“Yes. That is why we are investing in new growth. That is why we are improving the street.”
She looked past me, off into the distance, one of those long stares that people do when they are collecting their thoughts. I reminded myself that she had a lot to process here. My patiently exhausting her line of questioning was part of that process. I waited for her to speak.
“So how much will this street improvement cost?”
Now we were back on solid ground. I had prepared the cost estimate and knew this answer.
“The total project cost is nine million dollars.”
“Nine million dollars! Our city is broke. We can't afford to keep the streetlights on overnight. We have laid off our fire fighters and half our police force. Where are we getting nine million dollars?”
I understood the sticker shock. This was a large project, especially for this community, but now I had a chance to impress her. All of this new investment, all of these improvements, all of the new growth that would result, and all of the jobs and economic development was going to happen and most of it was being paid by others. As a taxpayer in this city, she was getting a tremendous gift.
“Seven million dollars is stimulus money coming from the state and federal governments. The other two million dollars will be assessed to the property owners that benefit from the project.”
“What does that mean, ‘assessed to the property owners that benefit from the project?’”
Cities are limited in the taxes and fees that they can charge property owners. Some of this limitation comes directly from equal treatment provisions in the U.S. Constitution itself. One exception to treating everyone equally is the assessment process. When assessing, a local government can charge a property owner whatever amount they want to so long as the property value they own increases by that amount.
If the project increases a property's value by, say, $10,000, the city could charge the property owner up to $10,000 for doing that project. The engineering firm where I was employed did this kind of work all the time. In fact, this neighborhood had been so neglected, the public infrastructure in such a state of disrepair, that just having new pavement was likely to improve this woman's property value.
Nonetheless, I dialed back my enthusiasm, reverting to the classic-speak I had heard other engineers use in public hearings on assessments.
“It means that the property owners who benefit will pay a share of the cost.”
“Who is it that benefits from the project?”
“Everyone who is on the street.”
The vacant stare evaporated. She looked me straight in the eyes, a combination of frustration and confusion apparent on her face.
“Wait, are you saying that I benefit from this project and will pay an assessment?”
I again looked down at my shoes. I tapped the ground with my foot, a reflexive behavior.
“Yes. You are one of the benefiting property owners who will be assessed for the project.”
“You must be kidding me. I have a nice quiet neighborhood street today. My kids play in the yard and it is safe. I can walk across the street to the grocery store, or up the street to the restaurant, and it is safe. To make it safer, you are going to flatten, widen, and straighten the street and add two more lanes of fast-moving cars. This is done because of traffic projections — because we want new growth in the tax subsidy area on the edge of town. And while my neighborhood crumbles and my home drops in value, you are going to assess me, too.”
I felt bad for her. She truly didn't get it.
“I'm sorry. But the traffic projections require a four-lane street for safety reasons. We must follow the standard.”
This conversation is a composite of many conversations I participated in during my years of working as a civil engineer and urban planner for cities across Minnesota. The thoughts and words I attribute to myself in this dialogue are all ones I've believed or expressed at one point or another during my career. In 2010, I shared these impressions in a YouTube video I titled, “Conversation with an Engineer.” The eight-minute exchange between two computer animations is now used in university courses and other training sessions. It has been watched over 340,000 times and can now be viewed at www.confessions.engineer.
For many years, I believed that my education, training, and license gave me superior insight into how cities work. I believed that I was uniquely positioned to know what was best for society — at least when it came to transportation.
I believed that the optimal approach to city-building was reflected in the codes and standards that had been developed by others in my profession and that adhering to them was the only responsible approach an ethical person could take.
I believed that the straighter, flatter, and wider we could make a street, the safer it would become, and that requiring clear zones free of obstacles on each side was a critical component of public safety.
I believed that the speed people drove reflected their own level of responsibility or recklessness, that my designs had no influence on traffic speed, and that the only real way to address speeding was through police enforcement and public awareness campaigns.
I believed that automobile crashes, and the frequent incapacitations and deaths that accompanied them, were random events mostly caused by driver error, that the best thing I could do to reduce human suffering was to strive to continually improve our transportation systems to higher and higher standards.
I believed that I could use models and simulations to predict future traffic flows and that I had an innate sense for how drivers would respond to the designs that I and other engineers put in place.
I believed that Level of Service and other measurements of traffic efficiency were strongly correlated with economic success and that the potential for increased jobs, growth, and economic development were all directly tied to the free flow of automobile traffic.
I believed that government transportation programs, public debt financing of infrastructure projects, and local tax subsidies for development were all responsible actions taken in response to the private marketplace and that government leadership was reinforcing the natural outcomes being expressed in a market-based economic system.
Most of all, I believed that my efforts to plan, design, and engineer transportation systems were a service to society, that I was part of creating a prosperous America that could be shared by everyone, and that the only real impediments to success were a lack of funding and the political courage needed to stand up to naysayers.
In all these beliefs and more, I was wrong. Utterly and shamefully wrong.
What follows here is my confession, along with my insights and recommendations for making things better by using a Strong Towns approach to transportation.
1 Embedded Values
Sagrario Gonzalez was at the Central Library on State Street in Springfield, Massachusetts, near closing time on December 3, 2014. As many loving adults are prone to do, she brought her niece and daughter to enjoy the library's children's section. Springfield was the home of Theodor Geisel, better known as Dr. Seuss. It has a great children's section.
It was lightly raining when they left the library, the December kind of rain that stings when the wind whips it against your neck. Their vehicle was in the library's