Why is it that a person in one city can wake up late, stroll to a nearby coffee shop, and savour a leisurely start to the day, while another in a neighbouring city wakes at dawn, battling traffic just for a lukewarm cup of instant coffee at work? The answer stretches far beyond a simple "why." It delves into the realm of urban design – how the built environment shapes our choices, even seemingly mundane ones like our morning routines.
This exploration bypasses the complexities of free will vs. determinism. However, it acknowledges that our "free" choices often operate within a framework shaped by external influences, including the design of our cities. We don't choose our childhood environments, and even when we choose where to live and work, we don't get to dictate road designs, building density, or bicycle lanes. We can migrate or change jobs, but even then, we enter a new web of urban (or rural) influences.
Let's explore two contrasting cities, Draba and Prana, through the mornings of two fictional residents, Mr. Shonebare and Mr. Tomide. While acknowledging their individual choices, we'll highlight how urban design shapes their experiences.
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<h5><b>Morning 1: The Rush Hour Symphony of Draba</b></h5>
It's 4:00 am in the sprawling outskirts of Draba, a city of concrete and sand. Mr. Shonebare, a man built for comfort more than speed, stirs awake. As on every weekday, he beats his alarm and dresses quickly, hoping not to disturb his wife. By 5:00 am, he's on the road in his Jeep, navigating the pre-dawn darkness. He speeds past the few figures trudging to the bus stop, a fleeting moment of smugness crossing his face as he hits the highway – no traffic yet. He arrives at work early, the third person through the door at 6:00 am. He settles into his seat and switches on the electric kettle for coffee. Before the water boils, sleep overtakes him. He awakens with a jolt 35 minutes later, heavy-eyed and burdened by fatigue. He sips his poorly made coffee, staring at the city awakening through the glass walls of his corner office on the 9th floor. "Thank you, God, for today," he murmurs, collapsing back into his chair at 7:00 am.
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<h5><b>Morning 2: The Gentle Serenade of Prana</b></h5>
Meanwhile, across the continent in the heart of Prana, the time is 7:21 am. Outside a brick and timber house on the edge of a quiet cul-de-sac, Mr Tomide finally emerges from bed. The aroma of freshly made pancakes, courtesy of his girlfriend Katherine, proves more effective than the alarm or the morning light filtering through the blinds. A leisurely 20 minutes later, he's out the door with a half-eaten pancake in one hand and a briefcase in the other. He greets his neighbour Tommy with a smile as he heads to his bicycle, and arrives at his local coffee shop by 8:14 am. "My usual, please," he says, reaching for his card. "Here you go, Mr. Tomide," replies the barista, Sharon, with a smile. "Thank you, Sharon. See you tomorrow," he replies before heading to work. He stumbles into his office seat at 8:50 am, exchanging greetings and completing his daily check-in. By 9:00 am, he finishes his coffee with a satisfied sigh, a sense of accomplishment washing over him for having navigated a smooth morning routine.
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<h5><b>The Architect's Invisible Hand</b></h5>
Let's assume both men work similar corporate hours and have comparable social-economic backgrounds. Now, let's examine how the design of their respective cities shapes their experiences.
Draba is a car-dependent city. Wide, abundant roads prioritize automobiles. Walking is impractical; affordable housing sprawls far from the central business district. Sidewalks are patchy, and disrupted by car access points. Buses, though available, get caught in traffic, offering little advantage. This design practically forces car ownership. Mr. Shonebare's 4:00 am wake-up call isn't a personal choice; it's a consequence of Draba's car-centric layout. Waking up later would mean battling rush hour traffic, a Hobson's choice at best. There's no time for a coffee shop stop – they might not be open at his ungodly hour. Even if there were a nearby shop, his constant rush blinds him to his surroundings. His free will isn't eliminated, but certain options become more practical within the framework of his city.
In contrast, Prana is a walkable city. While the central business district isn't necessarily within walking distance for everyone, bicycles and well-maintained walkways offer convenient alternatives. Mr. Tomide's leisurely wake-up reflects this design. Since his city prioritizes pedestrians and cyclists, he can choose a more relaxed pace. He has time for breakfast with his partner, a friendly exchange with a neighbour, and a familiar coffee stop. His life unfolds at a less frenetic pace, allowing him to savour his surroundings and potentially work more efficiently. Ironically, Mr. Shonebare might not realize how much better his morning could be, just as Mr. Tomide might not grasp the luxury of his daily routine.
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<h5><b>Beyond Choices: A Call to Design</b></h5>
Both men make choices, reflecting a compatibilist view of free will and determinism. Our "free" choices operate within a world that shapes and influences them. This underscores the importance of thoughtful urban design. Decisions about city plans and architecture aren't just about aesthetics; they impact the daily lives of residents. They create a web of influences, some with far-reaching consequences. Here, we've focused on how urban design can influence something as seemingly mundane as a morning routine, even affecting how sweet a cup of coffee tastes.
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<h5><b>A Look to the Future</b></h5>
Moving forward, urban planners and architects can play a crucial role in shaping more empowering environments. Prioritizing walkable neighbourhoods, public transportation networks, and green spaces can empower residents to create their own "morning ragas," daily symphonies composed of choices that lead to a more fulfilling life. Imagine a world where Mr. Shonebare doesn't have to wake up at the crack of dawn, battling traffic just for a lukewarm cup of coffee. Imagine a world where Mr. Tomide's experience and the choices afforded his will are the norm, not the exception. The power to create such a world lies partly in the hands of those who design our cities.
The Song of the City and the Taste of our Coffee
By
Joshua Omoijiade