TAKE IT TO THE STREETS:
Appreciating the Public Realm From A Bicycle

In the age of private content-controlled enclosed malls and sidewalk-less, single-use subdivision pods, the only public space we know in common is that which we traverse by car, and never occupy, share, or mingle at the same time, at least not in a manner that facilitates communication or interaction. The internet has capitalized on the sad fact that we as a society have forgotten what it's like to interact with each other. Why? There is no place to do it. We peer at each other through tinted glass or stare at tail-lights. This is our only interaction. No conversations can be struck up in passing, no impromptu meetings or demonstrations or spontaneous theater materialize in this world (and by theater, I mean both the scripted performances of intentional actors as well as the drama of everyone's lives that pass before our eyes).

Civil life and democracy themselves are withering (or have long since withered, depending on where you live or who you talk to). Freedom needs unprogrammed spaces to flourish; it needs space with equal and easy access to all people for it to function. Discussion, debate, exchange, openness - these are the things that cannot exist merely in the private enclaves of office buildings, houses, and malls. Ideas die without fresh air.

Now in the age of the Internet and "cyber-communities" it's sometimes hard to think that we really need physical places to meet one another face-to-face. Yet we do more than ever. American civilization plunged into a dark, cold era at the end of World War II when people abandoned the cities and fled to the vast open expanses of this continent and holed themselves up in ranch houses with attached garages only to emerge in the protection of steel-n-rubber en route to and from the office. Sidewalks disappeared - who needs 'em? Plazas in city centers were converted to parking lots. Parks were sliced up by freeways - faster, farther, disperse! And the streets became mere functional swaths of ever-widening asphalt surrendered to unceasing swarms of speeding vehicles.

The Cold War wasn't just fought between the US and the USSR, it was fought here at home. We didn't want to have anything to do with each other, and we certainly didn't want to share any space: If I want to see you, I'll drive to your office or home to talk to you, this is a country of private interests, and "sharing" or "community" or "public" are communist code words. Now people are trying to reconnect and reach out to each other via email and chat rooms, but it doesn't fill the void. Humans crave human contact. It's well documented in the textbooks of child development that babies and children that are denied the loving contact of parents grow up with more social problems and learning disabilities. The same holds true on the macro scale at the city and societal level. A society that lacks real contact and mingling of people withers. Democracy is not an institution that can survive or function properly in a vacuum. When left to blow in the breeze by an apathetic populace and controlled by the corporate and private interests that swoop in to ensure steady rates of return, eliminate dissidence and unpredictability, and control the flow of information, democracry dries up and taken out of the hands of the community. Democracy cannot exist behind closed doors. it must be acted out in the open, in plain view, on the stage of community life.

The only spaces designed to hold large numbers of people are stadiums, malls, and fairgrounds, all located on the fringe, all isolated from the concentrations of people, and all only populated for special events. They largely sit vacant - not exactly the nexus of casual crossed paths or the likely crucible of the next revolution or social movement. Drive-to self-contained attractions are not functional public spaces. Good public spaces are integrally and seamlessly tied into the urban fabric. They are spaces that feel equally intimate when occupied by a single cyclist or a noontime concert. They are welcoming and accessible, not foreboding and monolithic.

I fully believe that the vitality of a city can be measured by the amount of people jaywalking. Once streets are ceded solely to cars and taken away from people, they become dead space, moats that separate us - barriers when full of whizzing (or gridlocked) cars and eerie rivers of asphalt when they're empty. It's inconceivable that the law can tell you where you can and cannot walk. Like breathing and eating, walking is a fundamental part of our existence. Coloring within the lines - it's the act of automatons. Just like a canvas is meant to be filled with brush strokes and splashes of color, so too should a city be filled with people traversing its spaces, exploring and exploiting its nooks and crannies. Streets are the largest parcels of open space in any city, and they belong to the people. The frenetic activity and entropy of city streets is exciting, it's infectious, it livens the pulse. The marketplace of ideas and mingling of cultures. The romance, the rock-n-roll, the revolution. It's in the streets.

When I first began cycling around San Francisco a few years ago my eyes opened to a new dimension that was not home or work. It was not inside a store or restaurant, it was not contained or commercially oriented. The public realm-the stage of city life, where real community grows. On the sidewalks, in the streets, in the squares, train stations and steps of city hall, plazas, and parks. It's those spaces that are both designed and unintentionally left over-where people congregate, meet and greet, think and drink. They are the places we cross in our daily routines as well as use as gathering places on special occasions. As cyclists, we become intimately familiar with these public spaces, and with a city's terrain and its inhabitants. Cycling is an exercise in geography - natural, social, cultural, political.

Though a solo act of transportation (except for you tandem buddies), riding a bicycle is a very social activity. Cycling not only exposes you to the natural elements, but to passing bits of conversation and chance encounters, to suddenly pulling over to buy a burrito or a book, to taking a rest on a park bench on your way home, to zigzagging down unknown alleys, to cruising through the farmers' market on your way to work. The bicycle is a versatile and non-intrusive tool of transportation: in motion it is swift and silent and graceful; it can be held in your hand while walking on a sidewalk and chatting with a friend; parked on a rack or against a lightpost outside a neighborhood cafe it takes up little space. Cyclists are keenly aware of the sentiments of a neighborhood and the rhythms of a city. Intimate enough to engage with people on the streets and mobile enough to get a sense for the big picture, bicycles are vehicles of perception. A bicycle is the perfect scale to appreciate the place you live, to move through it while still being a part of it.

I have a much greater appreciation now for the public spaces of our cities and towns. We must always defend these communal places and keep them public and free and pleasant places to be. Old places with history ground into their bricks and painted into their murals should be cherished and reclaimed, and new ones forged. These are our public streets, sidewalks, and parks. Don't let 'em fence them off, lock them up, push you to the side of the road, or tell you you're not welcome. Reclaim the streets, reclaim the cities!

-Josh Switzky

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