In the 19th century, the Erie Canal was critical in thrusting New York City to the forefront of the young Republic's cities, while the railroads later helped Chicago overtake St. Louis as the commercial hub of the Midwest. In the first half of the 20th century, rail lines, improvements in water and wastewater distribution systems, the emergence of streetcars and the development of electrical and telephone systems helped fuel the growth of America's great cities. And in the latter half of the 20th century, the construction of highways helped fuel a great suburban migration.
Viewed in this light, it seems obvious that the emergence of the Internet and other forms of telecommunications is likely to result in significant changes in land-use patterns.
For several decades, scholars and journalists have suggested that the growth of the information-based economy would reduce the importance of particular places because the technologies allowed people to live and work wherever they wanted. The net effect, it appeared, was the continued diminution of large cities and a continued spread of suburban sprawl and "edge cities."
But, the opposite seems to have happened. In particular, three kinds of places have thrived in the new economy, argues Joel Kotkin, in "The New Geography: How the Digital Revolution Is Reshaping the American Landscape."
The first, which he calls "nerdistans," are those exurban areas--such as Redmond, Washington, the home of Microsoft or the Research Triangle in North Carolina--where those who provide the technology that drives the digital economy enjoy a new form of the suburban dream. These people work on pleasant corporate campuses and live in pleasant climates with lots of opportunities for recreation.
The second, which Kotkin calls "Valhallas," are high-amenity rural areas--Vail, Jackson Hole, the Maine seacoast--where the affluent can keep connected to the business world via the Internet but still enjoy great scenery and recreation and, in many areas, such urban amenities as good restaurants and cultural fare.
If that were the end of the story, then the Internet would be solely a decentralizing force, on par with the automobile in its negative effect on cities. Reality is more complex, however. Kotkin, picking up a theme first popularized by architect William Mitchell, also points out that the Internet-based economy is helping revitalize neighborhoods in cities such as New York, San Francisco, Boston and Seattle. Why? Because the people who provide much of the content that drives the Internet-based economy thrive, as artists always have, on face-to-face contact and on the iconoclastic behaviors most likely to be tolerated and flourish in urban settings. Such interactions, Kotkin posits, are most likely to occur in those cities (and neighborhoods) blessed with both character and active traditions of grassroots cultural and artistic activities.
In contrast, three kinds of places seem to get lost in the shuffle, Kotkin warns. First are older industrial cities, such as St. Louis, that lack the character favored by content providers. Second are older suburbs that don't have amenities to appeal to the technology providers who prefer more bucolic Nerdistans. And last are rural areas lacking scenic vistas and recreational opportunities. (Some of these areas, Kotkin argues, have been saved from the worst ravages of the new economy: They house most of the nation's new immigrants and are finding ways to compete as lower-cost centers of industry.)
In terms of infrastructure investments, how should policy makers react to the changes Kotkin describes?
Two responses seem plausible. The first is drawn from a recent study of Pittsburgh, which hasn't boomed even though it has the universities and large-scale amenities--stadiums, convention centers and arts facilities--found in thriving medium-sized cities such as Boston or Seattle. Richard Florida, the study's author, found that potential workers in developing high-tech industries didn't put much stock in the traditional tools of downtown development. Instead, they sought regions that offered good opportunities for outdoor recreation and interesting neighborhoods full of thriving cafes, restaurants, music venues, art galleries, etc. The implication is that policy makers should focus more on small-scale quality of life investments (such as parks) instead of big-ticket items (such as stadiums) that often tend to capture their fancy.
A second, more common response is to focus on providing subsidized electronic infrastructure to areas that lack it. Here history offers a cautionary tale. For every Erie Canal, for example, there was another failed (and heavily subsidized) canal built in hopes that its construction would spur commercial development on a par with that of New York City's.
The lesson seems to be that infrastructure--whether it's transportation, environmental or electronic--is a necessary but not necessarily sufficient condition for local economic growth.
