Michael Lewyn

<p> In much of the United States, day-to-day transit service is under assault as never before; state and local treasuries have been depleted by the recession, and the federal stimulus package is unlikely to be helpful because federal dollars are more likely to flow into capital programs (English translation: shiny new railcars) than into preserving existing service (1). Thus, Americans will have the worst of both worlds: billions thrown at transportation while existing bus routes get whittled away. </p>

<p> Often, participants in public debates use words to mean things very different from their common-sense meanings, in order to manipulate the public’s emotions. Two examples in the field of urban planning come to mind. </p>

<br /> A few weeks ago, I read a newspaper article commenting on a pedestrian who was killed in a car crash; the article suggested “educating pedestrians to cross at intersections.”  But sometimes, some pedestrians are actually safer crossing mid-block.<br /> <br /> Here’s why: when I cross at the intersection nearest my suburban apartment, I have to look for traffic coming from a variety of directions: not just oncoming drivers in both directions who might run red lights, but also drivers turning from the corners of the intersection. <br />

<p> It is a chestnut of urban planning that a neighborhood must have a certain number of dwelling units per acre (usually around 8 or 10) in order to have adequate bus service. But the quarter-acre lot seems to get no respect: too dense for estate-home luxury, not dense enough to constitute &quot;smart growth&quot;. But a 9 year-old girl recently taught me that, at least for children of a certain age, these medium-density neighborhoods have their advantages. </p>

A common refrain among environmentally-minded planners is: policy X will reduce global warming. So why would anyone be dumb enough to oppose policy X? <br /> <br /> But often, global warming will be the weakest, not the strongest, argument for policy X.