Sweat the Big Things, Too

A damaged church wall in Waco, TX, after a car ran into it. (Source: KWTX-TV News 10.)

A few weeks ago, I was cautiously crossing a parking lot, beelining for my car, when out of nowhere, a young man driving a beat-up sports car came speeding toward me, his tires screeching and smoke flaring up from the back of the vehicle. I stared at him in shock, expecting him to slow down, gesturing with open, wide hands as if to say, “Don’t you see me here?” Not only did he not slow down, but he gestured back as if to say, “Why should I care?” before gunning across the rest of the parking lot and toward the busy road beyond. 

I hurried into my car looking behind me to see if he had gotten stuck at a red light…maybe I could get his license plate and call him in? But alas, he was gone. 

This episode is just one of several my husband and I have started collecting recently. We routinely count drivers running red lights as we commute to work and church. Pickup truck drivers racing each other are another common sighting on some of our city’s main streets. We’ve heard stories of neighbors seeing light poles and residents’ yards run into by speeding cars late at night; one such driver gunned straight into a church building not far from a friend’s house… It still hasn’t been repaired.

Last month, I wrote an article about why city leaders should take seriously the “small” things…those issues that might not seem like campaign-winners, but that seriously affect the lives of ordinary residents. One example of this in Waco is the abundance of stray pit bulls that roam neighborhoods, frightening people away from taking walks or riding their bikes. These kinds of issues matter because, “The built environment is the stage upon which we pursue these goals; it is our most immediate context and the one we must constantly examine for threats. Problems like bad street lighting, broken sidewalks, and unreliable public transit are directly related to our sense of safety and our ability to act in the world. We must be sensitive about these things; if they go wrong, it could be catastrophic not just to us, but to entire communities.”

Yet, this isn’t to say that addressing “big things” like dangerous drivers or crime should fall lower on the priority list. These are the kinds of issues that stabilize and secure the public sphere, making it possible for a wide variety of people to enjoy and participate in city life. More importantly, they are the types of issues that have the potential to severely impact a city’s financial ability to win at “the infinite game,” sustain convivial social space, and foster the development of trust-based loose ties between residents. All of these “ingredients” to a flourishing community require certain first conditions in order to work, among them a reasonable assurance of personal safety. 

Yet, a few developments unfolding in some of our nation’s biggest cities suggest that these preconditions once considered necessary are not as secure as we once thought. New York’s city council recently approved a “right to sleep outside” law that would essentially legalize homeless encampments, despite similar legislation in Austin, Texas, eventually being overturned by voters concerned about public safety. Meanwhile, Portland and San Francisco are experiencing a dramatic flight of businesses and downtown visitors due to a growing fear of crime, trash, and homelessness. Meanwhile, New York City Mayor Adams is calling for a review of bail and prosecutorial practices as the city experiences a 22% increase in major crimes, many of which Adams attributes to the city’s “catch and release” policies that put repeat offenders right back on the streets a few hours after they’re caught. 

I realize complex policy debates are at the root of all of these issues, but the point of this article is not to discuss policy. Rather, my goal is to draw attention to the relationship between public safety and the ability of our cities and towns to achieve their most basic purpose: to be a container for human life. In order for cities to do that well, we need a clear vision for what duties we all owe to each other, the kinds of necessary rules that govern the public realm and how best to interest private and public interests. Civic life and dialogue can in some many ways be seen as a perpetual dialogue about how to define our civic duties, maintain the public realm, and coordinate between our private and public interests.  

From this perspective, we can see conversation about crime and public safety as an invitation to rediscover the essentials about what’s needed for a city to do what cities do best: bring people together to share ideas, build social ties, solve problems, and celebrate creativity. This is at the heart of what it means to sweat both the big and little things. It’s to take seriously that social coordination and collaboration that makes cities great is not a given, but is the result of establishing certain first conditions. 

What might this look like on the street level? I submit it could begin by taking seriously three things: the duties we owe each other as citizens, the essential role of unspoken norms in creating safety, and the importance certainty plays in determining citizens’ participation in the public sphere.  

We’re All in a Relationship, Whether We Realize It or Not

Here in Waco, I spend a lot of time at coffee shops working and writing. I frequently get up to take a walk around the block, leaving my computer and backpack at the table unattended. My husband always raises his eyebrows at this habit, but I’ve never worried about my possessions. I’ve also left my bike unlocked outside cafés for hours without any issue. People here just don’t steal stuff. 

I could be taking for granted a social reality that is quite remarkable when you think about it, namely the fact that, for the most part, people treat each other with respect and obey the law. Humans getting along is an essential prerequisite for cities and towns to function, but it hasn’t always been the norm. It’s actually quite remarkable when you think about it: how, at a certain point, our ancestors realized they could choose between perpetual competition or some degree of collaboration. 

The emergence and development of cities is largely a result of us choosing collaboration. All the innovation, gains in efficiency, and culture with which we now associate cities is the result of citizens not just living in close proximity to each other and exchanging ideas, goods, and services. They are also the result of citizens realizing the city could only function if the people interacted according to a certain set of social rules and if those rules could be enforced. Of course, we have by no means attained perfection in this practice and there are plenty of injustices in need of remedying, but the general arc of history has delivered us to a point in time in which most people in the developed world live in stable, relatively safe cities in which they regularly experience basic politeness, respect of property, and protection against violence. 

Driving this success is a view of society in which citizens recognize and respect that we are all bound together by a social contract, one that comes with certain duties and expectations, whether it’s something as simple as basic politeness or as serious as agreeing to not steal from each other. This contract is the oil that keeps society running smoothly and it’s why crime should be taken seriously: unaddressed crimes threaten this contract and create a climate of uncertainty and fear under which communities cannot truly function nor flourish. Caring about the “big things” might begin by acknowledging the social contract and realizing that it is essential to our individual and collective wellbeing. Are we taking the kinds of actions that will strengthen that social contract and the certainty it affords us?

The Power of Unspoken Norms

Before I was married, I traveled a good amount alone, both within the States and abroad. I love travel but it definitely has its challenges, among them, not always knowing what to expect in various social settings. Entering restaurants, checking in at hostels and boarding overnight buses all came with elements of uncertainty… What if these spaces were governed by a set of cultural norms that I didn’t know about? 

One story: In Croatia, I boarded a bus for Bosnia. It would be a long ride and the bus had no bathroom, so I assumed we would take a bathroom break somewhere along the way. When we stopped at a gas station and I asked to get off, the gruff driver and his buddy refused to let me off, even going as far as guarding the door. I protested but to no avail and returned to my seat, unsure how much longer I could ride without relief. Fortunately, the woman next to me understood English, so she knew what had happened. When a female police officer boarded at the border to check passports, she gestured toward me and explained the situation, and the policewoman ordered the driver to escort me to the police bathroom. 

Unspoken norms are a key “ingredient” in functioning public realms (grocery stories, coffee shops, post offices). It’s the glue that holds them together and preserves them as spaces accessible to a wide variety of people. But norms are always susceptible to being challenged and must be reinforced in order to preserve the space. You could think of these norms as the unspoken “terms and conditions” of participation. We all know that we shouldn’t talk loudly on airplane rides, wear flip flops to a fine dining institution, or yell at the cashier who can’t honor an expired coupon. 

When social norms fall apart, not only does that threaten the preservation of public spaces and compromise our ability to build loose ties, but it also threatens the social balance and sense of trust that cities need in order to attract more residents, investment, and innovation; it’s something to take seriously. 

Uncertainty Certainly Matters

I literally couldn’t make this up, but as I write this article at an outdoor café, I’ve noticed several people begin to look up and watch a slightly disheveled man circling the outdoor courtyard. He hasn’t ordered anything, isn’t set up to work or read, and isn’t meeting any friends. Rather, he’s stopping to talk to various young women who are busy writing, reading, and trying to finish projects. I doubt any of the patrons here are uncomfortable by his appearance, per se, but rather by the fact that he’s engaging in a type of behavior that doesn’t fit into the unspoken, shared norms of the space.

Something similar happened to New York City’s subway cars during the pandemic when they transformed into homeless shelters. I remember the uncertainty and apprehension I felt every time I boarded a subway car, not because the homeless were homeless, but because it seemed the behavioral norms that formerly governed the public space of the subway were now no longer in effect. The cars reeked of body odor, and seating space became limited due to multiple homeless riders taking up several seats in order to sleep and/or to store their belongings. In cases of erratic behavior, it wasn’t clear how best to respond. Despite my sympathy for their plight and my awareness of how complex of a problem homelessness is, the subway began to feel less safe.

The point here: people need a certain level of certainty to venture into the public realm. At Strong Towns, we routinely argue for the benefits of public-realm-enhancing ideas like more public transit, bikeability and more walking-friendly design…all ideas that rely on convincing people to step out of their private realms and private vehicles. Yet, for all of those ideas to work (which remains to be seen), the public realm must be secured in such a way to minimize uncertainty.

Winning at the Infinite Game

At its core, “sweating the big things” is about taking seriously the preconditions humans need to participate in the public sphere. If these preconditions are allowed to erode, people are likely to contract even more into their private spheres and to abandon the city altogether, leaving it without the quietly stabilizing presence of a wide range of people going about their daily lives. At Strong Towns, a helpful metaphor we use for understanding cities is that of the infinite game: a game in which the only goal is not to win per se, but to survive, hopefully indefinitely. 

Cities’ futures are never secure. We know from the turbulence of the 1950s and 70s what can happen in the blink of an eye to our downtowns and neighborhoods. Too many cities have fought too hard to come back from such histories; a sudden relapse now would be a grave tragedy. Preventing such a tale requires taking seriously the challenges before us pertaining to crime and public safety. What kind of policies and practices do we need in place in order to win at the infinite game?

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