Following World War II, the American Dream machine kicked into full gear. Seemingly unrelated Federal government initiatives changed the face of the nation. President Eisenhower, impressed with the German Autobahn system, pushed forward the Federal Aid Highway Act in 1956. Appropriating $25 billion for the construction of 41,000 miles of the Interstate system over a 20-year period, it was the largest public works project in American history to that point. Although done in the name of military defense (the technical name was the National Interstate and Defense Highways Act), the most direct result of the act was the government’s subsidization of suburban sprawl, making commutes between urban centers to suburbs much quicker and furthering the flight of citizens and businesses and divestment from inner cities. A secondary result was the tearing up of any alternative urban transportation systems (e.g., the elimination of Los Angeles’ extensive interurban railway system as funded by auto-related industries).

On the housing front, the government heavily incentivized the home ownership of suburban detached homes through the widespread availability of mortgages (through the Veterans Administration and the Federal Housing Administration) as well as mortgage interest deduction. Somehow in the process we went from being able to build our own custom or Sears catalog “kit” home and have it paid off in 3-5 years, to the situation we find ourselves in today, in which 30-years of interest payments are the norm and millions of homes are in or face foreclosure. These trends along with lax underwriting standards have encouraged the median home size in America to become 2400 square feet, compared to 800 square feet in the UK and the European Union.

One fundamental departure from historical urbanity within the “antiurban” suburban model is the attempt to freeze time. Historically, any human settlement has been allowed to grow organically and mature in response to changing demographic, environmental, and economic demands. As the American “Leave it to Beaver” home was elevated to the status of an unquestioned dream, housing subdivisions created more elaborate Covenant, Codes, & Restrictions and Homeowner’s Association design guidelines to ensure that the status quo would remain forever. Ironically however, the other supportive land uses that followed the government subsidies and new freeways (strip malls, office/industrial parks, and even institutions) seemed to adopt and embrace a transient or temporal model: “throwaway” architecture in the name of minimalism, functionalism, or more honestly, cheapness. Pre-engineered metal industrial buildings, stick-built stucco prototype retail stores, and warehouse churches are standard in suburbia. Again, these are not simply aesthetic decisions. Financing models embraced by commercial lenders encourage lower construction costs, while governmental tax policies encourage faster depreciation of physical assets.

This is the reality of Autopia. And if you haven’t noticed, cracks in this version of the American Dream are getting harder to hide. People are tired of spending a quarter tank of gasoline to buy a quart of milk. Only ten percent of kids have a school they can walk to. After our long commutes, we pull into our three-car garage and enter the kitchen door without ever talking to our neighbors. We have little genuine community. Yet we think we have the home we want. Indeed, Americans have shown an amazing willingness to continue to extend their commute time in order to qualify for the home that they want. But as negative equity situations and foreclosures rise, some have questioned the viability of this version of the American Dream.

For starters, Autopia no longer fits our context. The American Dream machine has been focused on one demographic: married with children. With the aging of Baby Boomers, later marriages, and fewer children, less than a third of new US households formed are forecasted to fit this demographic! Many suburban church plants and mega-churches have almost exclusively focused on this demographic. One forecast states that the current glut of single family detached homes will not meet their anticipated demand until 2030. Gen “Next”, empty nesters, young urban professionals, and DINKs (Double-Income No Kids) are increasingly showing a preference for diversity over monotony in choosing more “urbane” live/work/play settings. Studies consistently show a willingness to pay a premium for smaller lots or properties if they are located within access to transit and/or have features of a “New Urbanist” community.

Second, Autopia no longer works. Various proclamations, from President Obama to the Urban Land Institute, have stated that the era of building sprawl is over. The biggest reasons have less to do with “consumer preference” or lifestyle choice, but with economics and the environment. Even young couples with children prefer foreclosure-resistant neighborhoods where transportation costs are low (about 9% of household expenditures) rather than foreclosure-risky neighborhoods in the outer suburbs where transportation costs are high (25% or more of household expenditures). According to a 2000 Impact Analysis for the Georgia Regional Transportation Authority, a suburban resident of Atlanta is likely to drive an average of eight times more miles than an urban resident. Low-density suburban development results in the highest per capita demands on natural systems and habitats, including impervious land cover, miles driven, water use, energy use, air pollution, and greenhouse gas production. Issues of energy availability (the near-term global prospect of peaking oil supply no longer being able to keep up with global demand) and the changing regulatory context of climate change (whether you believe in it or not) is making the cost of getting access to raw land and serving greenfield development higher and higher.

CREATING SACRED SPACE IN SUBURBIA

In my work, I have a lot of conversations about the future of the church with many established and emerging Christian leaders and pastors. One trend I have noticed is a tendency towards false dichotomies. Suburban is out, urban is in. The mega-church campus is out, while the multi-site alternative and church plants are in. I find some of these generalizations a bit troubling. As architects of the next generation of Christian community, I believe that pastors and church planters need to have a richer understanding of the emerging postmodern landscape. For the first time in human history, the UN estimates that half of the world’s 6.7 billion people are living in urban areas. This does not mean that half of humanity is crammed in high-rise towers in a Central Business District. In fact “Downtown” residents of major metro areas only represent around 2% of total households. More accurate definitions of “urban” and official jurisdictional boundaries of “cities” (as opposed to the classic definition as a walkable, dense, diverse settlement) fully incorporate the suburban periphery into their scope. For example, most of the Northeastern corridor of the US incorporating Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, and Washington, DC is considered urbanized according to the UN statistic.

So suburbia is part of the city.

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