Here is an excerpt from a book I recently read, "The Tale of Genji," by Murasaki Shikibu.
The sight of this palace gave a thrill of sadness to Genji, who was now leaving, and not returning, home. He saw the waves rolling on the coast and again sweep back. He hummed, as he saw them:—
I recently had the good fortune of meeting up with a friend of mine who does language translation on the side. I was marveling to them that I was in the middle of two literary classics – Divine Comedy and Tale of Genji – that were not only not written in English but were also penned several hundreds of years ago. Hence, these intrepid modern-day translators had to transcend language, culture, and time. Furthermore, both are partly or fully poetry, so the English translations had to rhyme! An astounding amount of considerations when trying to figure out how to faithfully represent the author’s intentions.
It occurs to me that, in a sense, all communication is translation. Even when we speak the same language and exist at the same time, there is a sense in which what I say comes from a specific perspective and context, and someone listening to me does not necessarily share (or even know) that perspective and context. And the reverse is true, as what I hear from others I naturally process from my own perspective and context but cannot assume that that is correct to do.
Good speaking involves acknowledging these differences and figuring out a way to clue listeners in to things they may not know and need to know in order to understand what you’re saying. Similarly, good listening involves acknowledging that how you absorb something may not be accurate, so some humility and follow-up clarifications are likely in order.
All this for two people speaking the same language and
living at the same time! But if you think about it, all conversations involve
some bridges that must be crossed, whether age gaps or cultural differences or ideological
diversity. Reading an Italian book from the 1300s and a Japanese book from the
11th century, plus conversing with an actual translator, has helped
reinforce this point for me, and has given me a lot more insight as to how best
to speak and listen.
A few years ago, I posted links to some of my favorite covers on YouTube. I love the creativity (audio and video), the musical purity, and the deftness of honoring the original while putting your own personal spin. So once again, and apropos to nothing of importance in the world, here are a few more I have on heavy rotation:
"Viva La Vida," Coldplay (Matthias Zangerle)
"Forever Young," Alphaville (Kreisorchester Borken)
"Dancing Queen," ABBA (First to Eleven)
"On Bended Knee," Boyz II Men (AHMIR)
You may not remember, but in your Econ 101 class way back when, you probably learned the terms “non-excludable” and “non-rivalrous.” Given that your eyes probably glazed over when you read those arcane phrases, you can be forgiven for wondering why I am attempting to construct a blog post on the subjects.
Bear with me while I further nerd out by trying to define these concepts:
1. A “non-excludable” good is one that you can’t really keep someone from freely enjoying. Once you secure national defense or clean air, you can’t easily prevent someone from reaping the benefits from them. Conversely, country club membership and running shoes are not universally available because you have to pay to access them.
2. A “non-rivalrous” good is one that, if I am enjoying it does not crowd out others from also enjoying it. Public parks and public sidewalks are good examples of “non-rivalrous” goods, because my accessing them does not meaningfully restrict others from also enjoying them. A country club membership, while being excludable, is also non-rivalrous, because my being a member does not adversely affect your being a member. Running shoes are rivalrous, though, since once I buy and own a pair, you can’t buy and own that pair too.
Having bored you to tears or perhaps stirred a faint memory from your undergrad days, let me get to the point of this post, which is that cities, at their best, are non-excludable and non-rivalrous goods. Which may seem obvious, but I want to further assert that they non-excludable and non-rivalrous in ways that suburbs are not.
This is all another way of saying what Paul Levy, founder of Center City District in Philadelphia, has long said, which is that in cities, more is more, whereas in suburbs, more is less. To restate this insight, more people in the suburbs means more traffic, more difficulty in finding parking, and perhaps other congestion issues that either diminish your enjoyment (e.g. the pool at the community center is crowded so you have to wait for a lane to open) or sock your tax bill (e.g. enrollment increases necessitate that your school district invest in expanding capacity).
Most cities, particularly in the Northeast and Midwest, are still well below their highest historic population levels. Which means that most of those cities’ main infrastructure can support many more people that current population levels. Roads, bridges, transit systems, schools, park systems, and so on may be in need of investment (more on this in a sec), but they exist in a way that can be scaled to meet any rising demand should population go up significantly from current levels. Another way I like to say this is that cities in the West and Sunbelt are levying taxes to raise tens of billions of dollars for the kinds of things that Northeast and Midwest already have in place, like mass transit and park systems.
These public goods, and cities as a whole, are non-excludable and non-rivalrous, because much of what is good and enjoyable about a city is available to all and does not diminish but rather gets enhanced as there are more and more people there enjoying themselves. A bustling downtown does not portend traffic and parking issues as much as it creates a sense of safety in numbers and a vibrancy that comes from people watching and bumping into colleagues. Even a vibrant shopping and restaurant district, which may cost money to purchase food and goods, is free for folks to walk through without anyone feeling like they can be excluded or crowded out.
Ah, there’s a caveat. In fact, in the history of cities there have been occasions in which some people are made to not feel welcome, either by public pressure or official policy, so maintaining a welcoming and inclusive spirit takes work to overcome past barriers. And, the ability for cities to scale requires the existence and upkeep of mass transit to move people en masse, lest people choose to or have to drive, which does in fact have a diminishing effect on the value of density.
Cities, at their best, are non-excludable and non-rivalrous
goods. But it takes work. Let’s hope we are willing to put in that work.
Over the holidays, I had the pleasure of catching up with a dear friend from high school who lives in Oakland. In addition to journeying together as Taiwanese-Americans, husbands, fathers, and Christians over the years, we have compared notes on our experiences living in diverse and very left-leaning cities. I can't say we found much resolution in our most recent discussion, but I wanted to share a few thoughts that have continued to linger after.
Our main lament was that it was difficult to approach let alone solve the plight of the growing lawlessness in some parts of our respective cities. It is not good, for cities and for the diverse inhabitants of those cities, when things like looting and gun violence and rampant homelessness are not only present but accommodated. These issues are intricate, nuanced, and engrained, and they involve people who deserve to be afforded a sense of shared humanity and common grace. We cannot not address these challenges. And it is hard enough to figure out how to do so, given their complexity and the scarcity of resources. It is understandable to want to cover our eyes and hope for the best, but we must resist that temptation.
What we cannot do is vilify people for bringing up the problem in the first place. I was horrified to follow a thread on social media last year when a young mother (a labor organizer and self-described socialist) expressed her dismay at so much smoking on the subway when she boarded with her infant child, only to be scolded by her own peers for demonizing certain people and behaviors. Forget about what is productive to addressing these issues; for many commenters, clearly it was more important to express ideological purity even at the risk of coming off rudely to their fellow sojourner.
Societal issues have brought us to a boiling point, and I want to give wide berth for this truth and for the many reactions to it. Where people look down on protestors who clog up bridge traffic or pour paint on famous works of art, I want to give space to the possibility that outrageous acts may be justified to wake us up to the pain and injustice that is allowed to continue among us, where more polite expressions simply won't cut it.
What I'm struggling to tolerate is a ferocity of purpose that gives no room to express discomfort about the consequences of this societal turmoil, even and especially when it is directed at those who are on the same ideological side of these issues. As my high school friend put it, in the cities where he and I live, it's less that there's two sides to an argument, it's that there's one side, but half of that side is outraged that the other half would dare say anything out of line.
This is not kind, nor is it productive, nor is it consistent with what many of us are fighting for. I admit I don't have a good resolution. Anger is an appropriate response, and the consequences of that anger are not always predictable or polite or clear or constructive. But to me, angrily shutting down complaints and cutting off solutions in the name of ideological purity lacks integrity, doesn't get us closer to progress, and leads me to believe some folks prefer their looking better to things getting better.
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This Atlantic piece about social isolation (and this X commentary from the poster where I first saw the piece) really resonated with me, and reminded me of a blog post I'd written two years ago about America being a "pluralistic democracy."
It may be a wonky and obscure term, but it's a really important concept about our amazing country. We're diverse! And we don't govern by fiat! We are truly unique in the world and in history for this reason, or at least purport to be. Which is why it is so worrisome that this core characteristic, that we first revolted over to create and have since then spent 250 years safeguarding, seems to be unraveling right before our eyes.
Surely it is not a coincidence that at the same time we are becoming more socially isolated, we are becoming less tolerant of those who have different opinions than us. Since time immemorial, we have had opinions, held them closely, and fought for them. But we lived cheek to jowl with those who were different from us, so we learned to see them as human beings even if we vehemently disagreed with them. We may even have kept our minds open enough to learn from them. We certainly found common ground with them, if not on the dividing issues themselves than on other shared traits and values. That's what kid soccer sidelines, PTA meetings, and neighborhood fireworks shows are for.
For a variety of reasons, we have chosen to sequester ourselves from those differences. We have our own group chats, social media platforms, and news sources. We may consume the same entertainment but do so increasingly from the comfort of our own homes rather than in shared spaces. When we do go out, the segregation usually remains, even if we are not conscious of our contribution to making our spaces less inviting for people different than us.
And let's not get started on more structural and therefore more engrained segregations. Where we live, where we send our kids to school, where we work and worship and shop - all of these have been influenced by a desire to be with those like us and away from those unlike us. In the process, we not only lose the positive influence of being around those different from us, but we are more likely to look down on and think the worst of those different from us.
Let me repeat: This is bad for America! As much as you want our country to be your way, I hope you want our country to ever be a place that is both diverse and free. By definition, that means we have to live together somehow, cobbling together a democratic process in which we voice our opinions, hash things out in the town square, elect our leaders, and hope for the best, all while treating our fellow human with respect and expecting the same back from them.
Maybe even, along the way, we'll become friends or at least amiable neighbors with those whose positions are opposite ours. Indeed, that is part of what is beautiful about our country, not that we are the same but that we are different and yet together. "Out of many, one" is practically our national motto.
As we come up on 250 years into this great experiment, I worry that our social isolation and our rejection of contact with those we disagree with are becoming a self-reinforcing wall that hinders our togetherness. What will it take to break that wall and, without relinquishing the beliefs we hold dear, find common humanity and shared contact with others around us?
This is the 16th year I have tracked car usage, so I think it's safe to say this has become a habit. As has the nerdy tracking and graphing of it in Microsoft Excel. (You can check out 2023 here, 2022 here, 2021 here, 2020 here, 2019 here, 2018 here, 2017 here, 2016 here, 2015 here, 2014 here, 2013 here, 2012 here, 2011 here, 2010 here, and 2009 here.)
As before, the Philly totals represent, in order, number of trips, number of legs represented in those trips (i.e. going to and from my in-laws, making one stop to get gas, counts as three legs), and number of legs in which I was driven (rather than driving).
The other city totals represent, in order, number of times I was in that location, number of days I was in that location, number of trips, number of legs represented in those trips, and number of legs in which I was driven.
January 10/32/0 OCNJ 1/1/1/6/0 Charlotte 1/1/1/4/2 Providence 1/1/0/0/2
February 10/37/0 NYC 1/1/0/0/0 OCNJ 1/1/1/4/0
March 12/36/0 OCNJ 1/1/1/3/0
April 15/42/1 DC 1/1/1/9/0 Denver 1/1/0/0/4 NOLA 1/1/0/0/4
May 14/42/2 Annapolis 1/1/1/4/0 Harrisburg 1/1/0/0/2
June 7/26/0 NJ 2/2/2/15/0 Camp 6/6/6/24/0
July 4/11/0 Baltimore 1/1/1/2/0 PR 1/4/0/0/3 MIA 1/6/7/18/4 Camp 5/5/5/24/0 NYC 1/1/1/6/0
August 15/52/1 Lancaster 1/1/1/8/0 Clemson 1/1/1/4/2 Allentown 1/1/1/3/0
September 10/38/0 Jersey Shore 1/1/1/4/0 Franklin County 1/1/1/5/0
October 12/38/1 Poughkeepsie 1/1/1/4/0 Minneapolis 1/2/0/0/2 DC 1/1/1/9/0 Point Pleasant 1/1/1/3/0
November 11/41/0 DC 1/1/1/4/0 NJ 2/2/1/4/2 OCNJ 1/1/1/4/0
December 6/23/0 CA 1/12/19/77/4
So my Philly total is 126 trips involving 418 legs, plus another 5 legs in which I was driven. So that works out to about 10.5 car trips and 35 legs a month. Then counting non-Philly trips it's closer to 15 car trips and 53 legs a month.
The car just crossed 75,000 miles and it turns 10 in April (just like Asher!). We're lucky to be able to afford a car, luckier still that we can have full lives without depending on a car. Urban living is good living!
Here are a few excerpts from a book I recently read, "Leaves of Grass," by Walt Whitman.
A learner with the simplest, a teacher of the thoughtfullest,
Here are a few excerpts from a book I recently read, "Moby Dick," by Herman Melville. Again, I always go to sea as a sailor, bec...
