Kuweeqahsun*
And welcome to this newsletter.
It's where I (John Surico) talk each month about cities & their discontents: streets, climate, cultures, people, food, form, etc. This month, we cover:
- Infrastructure under Trump 2.0;
- The always-dead-until-it’s-not life of congestion pricing;
- The potential of AI for cities;
& much, much more.
Before we begin, a personal note:
At some point around Election Day, this newsletter clocked its thousandth subscriber. It coincided, by cosmic faith, with Angela and I’s wedding, where we steered about 100 people, as one does, through the streets and subways of New York City to the best party of both of our lives. It was a truly joyous occasion.
Streetbeat launched in 2020, on the eve of the pandemic. But its story really starts in 2017. Like many journalists, I was exhausted. I had just come off the 2016 campaign trail, covering Donald Trump’s rise from VFW lodges in New Hampshire to his inauguration on the steps of the Capitol forVICE. A movement to make the country seem smaller, not bigger, had been heard loud and clear–and now, they were in charge. Back home, my mother was dying; the end-result of an arduous saga of neurological degrade through our morally bankrupt healthcare system. Taking stock, I felt defeated and just infinitely small.
This felt like the time to be impactful—or, at least, get as close as possible to the people who were. And what had always inspired me was local action. On the ground, towns and cities were charting their future. On the ground, innovative stuff was happening. On the ground, nobody was waiting for Washington. And, frankly, nobody cared too much. They’d figure it out. Because that’s what they’ve always done. I had noticed this in bits and pieces before, but with Trump’s election, I dove in headfirst, seemingly for my sanity. I took an assignment to cover the New York City mass transit system, which opened up a Pandora’s box of planning for me (and never really closed, as the theme of our nuptials attests). I added policy research to my résumé, which would later spark action from City Hall—something I had never known as a reporter. This, I decided then, was what I wanted to dedicate my life to: shouting out the actual, substantive change that is making our world a better, more equitable place to anyone who’ll listen.
It happened again with the pandemic. But instead of cities, it was with my own community. Mutual aid efforts—as potent today, thankfully, as they were then—led me to the 31st Ave Open Street, which, outside of my partnership with Angela, is the single-most inspiring thing I’ve have had the pleasure to be a part of. It began in calamity, and still perseveres with that can-do attitude five years in. When I brought up the election results to a friend there recently, they replied without skipping a beat: “We’ll just do the same shit we’ve always done.”
As the second Trump era begins, I have been reflecting a lot on those moments, which, in hindsight, were inflection points. The movement to make the country feel smaller, not bigger, has returned to power, more audaciously and outright than the first time. So this is the time to be impactful. This is the time to lock in locally. This is the time to remind yourself that progress is possible, the news cycle be damned. (And I say that to you as someone who literally practices and teaches journalism.) Such important, invaluable work is happening all around you, no matter who’s in charge. This newsletter is meant to shine a light on it, whenever and wherever it can. And I hope reading it every month gives you some of the fuel you need to keep going. I know it certainly has for me.
Thanks, as always, for taking the ride. Here’s to the next thousand.
Locking in
Something I’ve been mulling over a lot this month is how much different 2024 feels from 2016. Trump’s election then was met with shock and awe—even the candidate himself reportedly didn’t think he’d win. His re-election, though, carries this air of recycled resignation; like a re-run of a show, but for an episode you haven’t yet watched. You generally know the plot lines and recurring characters, but you’re still unclear of what’ll actually happen next. I’d argue, again, that even Trump’s most ardent supporters aren’t sure.
But one very real distinction this time around is what’s at stake. For only the second time in American history, a former president is returning to the White House. And this go, he’ll inherit the greatest spurt of public works spending in decades. His predecessor, Joe Biden, passed three of the most consequential pieces of legislation of our lifetime: together, the Inflation Reduction Act (IRA), the CHIPS Act, and the Bipartisan Infrastructure Law (BIL), together, are catalyzing billions, if not trillions, of dollars in public and private investment—as well as climate funding packages worldwide. Regardless of how you feel about Biden, we’re witnessing a paradigm shift in the American economy towards a carbon-lite, tech-heavy future of green manufacturing and logistics, the likes of which we haven’t really seen since the Industrial Age. Full stop. (The problem for Democrats is that its impact reverberates in years, not short election cycles. Biden even said so himself.)
New York City has benefitted handsomely from this period, due in large part to its deputy mayor of operations, Meera Joshi. Under her leadership, City Hall has secured $2.4 billion (and counting) for the five boroughs, boosted by the hefty new pots of money that have come online. And just as that money is getting out the door, Trump’s circus is back in town. So what happens now?
I sat down at City Hall with Joshi to ask her that and much more, for New York Magazine’s Curbed. Check it out.
Traffic jam
The story of congestion pricing reads like a bad Aaron Sorkin tele-drama.
Here, you have an (actually conservative!) idea that’s been kicking around since the 1960s—“hey, cars cause congestion and air pollution; maybe they should pay for that at peak hours”—come out of New York City, but other cities enact it first: Singapore, Stockholm, London. Then just as some version of it is about to start in New York in the 1970s, the election of a business-friendly mayor freezes it in place. Then yet another mayor revives the idea in the 2000s, as congestion worsens, only to be doomed by a powerful local official. Then, in 2019, the governor shoves it through the statehouse, but the president of the whole damn country—who, also, is from New York—delays it indefinitely. But then that president leaves office, and that governor’s replacement is about to hit the ‘On’ button, but then pause its at the eleventh hour, out of affordability concerns. And then, in somehow yet another plot twist (what were we even talking about?), that president is now returning to office, and that governor suddenly now says all systems go—albeit at a lower price point.
(Want more details on all of this? Sure you do!)
Phew. If you’re keeping count—and I do not blame you if you’re not, because even I’m tired of talking about it—congestion pricing has had nine lives. Yet the finish line (the MTA has approved it, the feds have rubber-stamped it, cameras are set to clock on January 5th, 2025) appears closer than it has ever been before. And by “close,” I really mean a mile away. But there are still some X factors (Trump! Congress! The world ending!) that could unravel the whole damn thing, the most serious of which is that good ol’ fashioned American pastime: suing.
Latching onto my pre-law degree of yesteryear, I wrote about how the courts could tie up congestion pricing for NYU’s Brennan Center for Justice. Have fun!
Artificial governance
AI has come up maybe twice in the Streetbeat archives. The first instance was when I described DALL-E, the generative AI machine that designers and street safety advocates have used to reimagine our roads as something almost mystical. And the second was when I cited a new study showing that those renderings do, in fact, boost support for street redesigns, by helping folks visualize what was previously perceived as impossible to imagine.
Other than that, I’m admittedly green on AI. I don’t regularly use ChatGPT. I hardly notice, nor try, the AI-powered features popping up in all of my apps. I follow some pretty groovy AI accounts on Instagram, but I couldn’t tell you how to use Midjourney myself. And okay, fine, I use AI for transcribing, but that’s only because I was losing hours of my life to stenography. In short: I keep stock of what’s going on, but I wouldn’t call myself an AI evangelist by any means. (When folks repeat that classic AI refrain—“It’s gonna change everything”—I usually give a Larry David-like shrug and say something like “Eh, is it?”)
So when I was asked to be a part of a policy report on how New York City could position itself as a leader in AI, I didn’t really know where to start. I used the chance, instead, as a jumping-off point, to hear from folks in my fields of interest who are actively thinking about AI and trying to deploy it. I had some experience writing about transit tech, but this was the first time I really heard from that world about what it was like to work with, and within, City Hall. What were some of the hurdles there? And what were the actual opportunities (and challenges) in bringing this technology to our towns and cities?
Those questions underlie a new report I co-authored at Center for an Urban Future, entitled “Maximizing NYC’s AI Opportunity.” It looks at specific moves that the Big Apple could take to ensure we’re scaling AI responsibly and effectively, recognizing that it’s here to stay and, also, fueling a ton of new, well-paying jobs. (The New York Times took note.) And it also mentions some case studies of ways AI could help, like monitoring crosswalk conditions, understanding where buildings are leaking energy, and speeding up permitting for infrastructure and housing projects. Again, I am someone who still very much remembers the short-lived obsession with “smart cities” of the 2010s, and where that led us. But this process taught me of a future that excites just as much as it may overwhelm or disappoint. (All of the AI slop aside.)
Hope you give it a read.
OSA: Local wins
Each year, our season on the Open Street intensifies just as we approach winter hibernation. From Halloween on, it’s a stretch of nonstop holiday markets and programming, where we try to pack in a lot before the sun sets early. This year-end conclusion, however, has been unique: we’re closely monitoring the ongoing redesign of 31st Avenue, which is gradually transforming our two-way avenue into a one-way ‘bike boulevard,’ with traffic conversions, curb extensions, and a two-way protected bike lane. (You can see what it looks like in past newsletters.)
The city’s crews work according to the weather. Once temperatures drop below freezing (32-degrees in Fahrenheit), the different paints used for traffic islands, crosswalks, and bike lanes no longer congeal. So, barring an unseasonably warm winter—which is a real possibility these days—the crews have about two or three weeks left to do any sort of extensive redesign work citywide. We’re entering what’s become somewhat of an annual tradition, where the city rushes (and often fails) to meet stated goals for bike and bus lanes. It’s a mad dash.
With that in mind, we were recently told by NYCDOT (the city’s transportation department) that the stretch of the redesign that touches the Open Street—which will see two full ‘shared’ streets—is being punted to the start of next year’s markings season. Instead, the city is focusing on firming up the two other segments already done, which equals almost 20 blocks. Of course, our group was disappointed to hear this, and so we’ve pushed for some measures in the meantime: repainting crosswalks; adding boulders and bollards; and getting a firm commitment from NYCDOT that they’ll be back first thing in April or May.
What’s helpful is that our calls are backed by a much larger contingency of elected officials and advocates. Together, that group put out a Western Queens Street Safety Plan (which I wrote about then) this time last year, which presented a larger vision for the neighborhood. Aside from the ongoing redesign of 31st Ave, one of the plan’s top priorities, it’s paying dividends: without much fanfare, the city ‘daylighted’ Broadway, a main commercial corridor, this last month. That’s when visibility at intersections, where most crashes happen, are improved with permanent or semi-permanent fixtures. It can save lives. (In this case: nearly every corner for about 15 blocks received painted curb extensions with vertical delineators, a fancy word for flimsy bollards.) The district-wide plan called for universal ‘daylighting,’ which street safety advocates are pushing for citywide. And because of that political cover—and a heightened goal of 1,000 intersections ‘daylit’ each year—the city just went ahead and did it.
So one step backward, two steps forward. Or maybe it’s the other way around. Regardless, it’s something that organizers can herald as the days darken.
Bright Side: Bright Future
This was a tough one to write this month. To be blunt, the future doesn’t seem all too bright at the moment; instead, it feels pretty damn dim. But I will, once again, proudly assume the role of class dad, where I brag about why the next generation is lifting my spirits. It happened a few instances this month.
I’m going to hold the applause for my own course on climate reporting in New York City—and what a time it’s been to teach that, lemme tell you—until the semester ends next month, when we have a full portfolio of student work to present. (Spoiler alert: they’re doing some great stuff.) In lieu of that, I want to first mention a recent invite to join the advisory board of Untapped Cities’ new Urban Journalism Fellowship. The publication is bringing on someone for six months to write about the unsung systems—both built and invisible—that make New York City function. (If interested, readers, you’ve got until Sunday to apply.)
I’ve been reading Untapped Cities for years. It hits this really nice balance of city nerd-out and thoughtful analysis. (I gave them my favorite books on New York City a few months back.) As media bleeds local voices, Untapped Cities wants to restore a notable gap of coverage of what’s around us, which seems more prevalent than ever to understand and improve. “But what could be more important than the environment in which we live and interact with every day?” the application asks. (Completely unbiased take: I agree.)
On that note: Michelle Young, its co-founder, had me partake in the ‘arch crit’ for the graduate design studio she teaches at Columbia University. That’s when architecture and design students present a final project to a panel of ‘experts’ for feedback. They’re known for being harsh. (I remember a specific moment from planning school when the group who presented before ours was told by a professor afterwards that they seemingly knew little about London, where we were based then.) But I am happy to report: these students had vision.
Their prompt was the FDR Drive, the highway that runs up Manhattan’s East Side, which Robert Moses elevated from a street-level boulevard to a busy expressway in the 1950s. What should we do about it? Does it work for New Yorkers anymore? Has it ever? The students took a few different tacks to answer that: one spoke to over thirty residents about what they’d want to see underneath the Drive, which is currently underutilized and often derelict; another, whose background was in psychology, mapped out the hazardous experience of navigating the area, and suggested short-, medium- and long-term fixes, which included weekly car-free days and, ultimately, removal.
These were interventions that, until recently, were seen as far-fetched in the field. Graduate students would often be tasked with crafting commercial development plans or, maybe, a park. But increasingly, they’re reckoning with structures that we’ve taken for granted for generations, as so many towns and cities are, too. It was neat to hear the panel share the same sentiment: “How can you be more bold?” The students replied—they were thinking the same thing.
On the Radar
The Light Eaters, by Zoë Schlanger
Okay, I am not just holding up Zoë’s book because we cut our teeth together as editors at NYU Local. Or because I badger her at least once a year to come talk to my class. Or because I think her work as The Atlantic’s climate reporter is quite good (!). Or anything else. Rather, I want to focus on why she wrote The Light Eaters—which made several best-book lists this year—in the first place.
In the opening pages, she describes a numbness that overcame her after years of covering climate catastrophe. This cognitive dissonance so many of us in this space feel as we casually talk about, say, a record drought and literal brushfires in New York City; or the hopelessness of staying below 1.5-degrees Celsius; or the storms that are ‘historic’ until the next one hits; or the sort of speechless shrug I gave to my climate reporting class the morning after the country handedly returned the White House’s keys to a person who calls the whole thing one big ‘hoax.’ It can all feel very normal when it should feel anything but.
For Zoë, where she sought inspiration amidst all that is the burgeoning field of plant intelligence, where scientists continue to unearth a truly magnificent myriad of ways that plants are present in our lives and the planet’s. You can tell the almost-sublime awe she experiences watching Japanese knotweed consume her backyard in Brooklyn or navigating endangered flora in Hawai’i. Reading about it comes with this newfound appreciation for what’s growing above and below the surface. And so, when that numbness of being alive in 2024 bear its brutal head, books like this encourage us to find wonder where we can.
Streetbeat Gig Board
New Yorkers for Parks, the city’s leading parks advocacy group, is hiring a development and administrative associate. (New York, NY)
Global Designing Cities Initiative is looking for a program associate to implement Bloomberg’s road safety initiative. (Remote, Latin America)
New York City’s outdoor dining program needs all the help it can get, so go join NYCDOT as a community coordinator. (New York, NY)
***
Tell us where the jobs are where you live. Submit them here.
Kita Monthly
