Four years ago, communities in North Carolina and beyond were reeling from the COVID-induced Great Suppression. After spiking into double digits in April 2020, the state’s headline jobless rate was still a painful 7.3% by August, with some 376,000 fewer North Carolinians employed than on the eve of the pandemic. Central business districts of Raleigh, Charlotte, Greensboro, and other cities were hardest hit as — thanks to a combination of government edicts and fear — workers, shoppers, and visitors stayed home in droves.
Subsequent years brought much recovery. But uptown Charlotte and downtowns in the Triangle, the Triad, and our other urban areas aren’t back to “normal.” Office spaces remain underpopulated, as do stores, restaurants, and other businesses reliant on spending by workers and visitors.
Some blame the persistence of work-from-home arrangements struck during COVID. Others blame crime and public disorder, or at least a public perception that urban cores are unsafe. Still others, more hopeful, argue that the growing presence of residents in downtown apartments, condos, and townhouses will power an urban renaissance — albeit with a lag time that hasn’t yet elapsed.
Each of these explanations has merit. They don’t convey the full picture, however. The truth is that the traditional hub-and-spoke pattern of urban development — a single, dense core of employment centers, entertainment venues, high-end retail, and service industries surrounded by residential suburbs and exurbs — was declining in relative significance before 2020. The pandemic merely accelerated trends that were already underway.
The pejorative word for this process is sprawl. A better word is dispersal.
That is to say, our metropolitan areas still feature clumps of offices, stores, restaurants, and entertainment venues surrounded by residential developments. There’s just more of those clumps, dispersed more widely within our fastest-growing regions.
In my own case, I worked in downtown Raleigh for many years. About a decade ago, I took a new job in North Hills. In both cases, I commuted in from elsewhere. In both cases, my office was close to many urban amenities. What changed were the options available to me, and the length and route of my commute.
Joe Kotkin, a professor of urban studies at Chapman University, observes that the share of jobs in central business districts has been declining for many decades. Even by the turn of the 21st century, downtowns accounted for only 7% of metropolitan employment. The ratio has continued to fall. Now that changes in technology, management, and culture allow more professionals to work from home at least part of each week, the odds of slowing or reversing this trend are approximately zero.
In a recent New Atlantis essay, Kotkin writes that “downtowns don’t matter.” I wouldn’t go quite that far. Some North Carolinians, natives and newcomers, do prefer a truly urban lifestyle. Our cities ought to respond accordingly, lifting zoning and building requirements so the private sector can serve their needs. And downtowns are home to many venues and attractions, built with public and private dollars, that North Carolinians will continue to patronize for many years to come.
Still, it’s time for policymakers to accept reality as it is, not as they might wish it to be. No matter how many transit projects they complete, or arenas they build, or growth controls they impose, the vast majority of the population aren’t going to live, work, or play in downtowns. Nor will the vast majority travel significant distances by means other than automobiles.
And, no, generational change isn’t the answer. Surveys show young people’s preferences aren’t all that different from their parents or grandparents.
To accept this reality isn’t defeatism. Indeed, it’s more than just pragmatism. Dispersal actually has many benefits — including environmental ones. As I’ve long argued, if your goal is to reduce emissions of greenhouse gases or pollutants, getting people to work more from home is far more effective than trying to get them into buses or trains. And even for commuters, dispersing employment centers can shorten their trips if done skillfully.
John Hood is a John Locke Foundation board member. His latest books, Mountain Folk and Forest Folk, combine epic fantasy with early American history.