Sometimes when I get in the car in the morning, I feel stupid. My commute is long, all the way from Uptown. Over time, the absurd width of the road, tired-looking trees on either side, the grey expanse of the highway, and the dejected face of the driver that stops next to me combine to form a mucky sense of wrongness. I wonder if all of history’s progress has intended for me to sit and languish in an ordered, colorless landscape of moving metal compartments.
Cars and highways are an American symbol of freedom and individuality. However, cars now feel like a cage, the only option for most of the population to get from A to B.
Historically, mass transportation in the US was public. Railroads, streetcars and subways carted millions in extensive urban, suburban and rural networks around the country. Cars were initially unpopular, seen as only for the wealthy and dangerous to pedestrians. The rise of car ownership coincided with the fall of streetcars rather than consumer choice, which were hampered by unregulated traffic and wartime inflation.
Oil and automotive corporations, for their part, bought streetcar lines through holding firms in an illegal effort to replace them with buses. They formed the National Highway Users Conference to mold federal transportation policy and raised a campaign to convince the public and government that the construction of highways was a public responsibility.
From then on, highway systems ripped through cities, used as tools to destroy so-called “urban blight” or multi-ethnic neighborhoods, spurring crime as residents were forcibly relocated, and sending wealthy residents packing for the new, racially exclusive, suburbs.
As a result, newer American cities and suburbs prioritize cars, not human beings. By the 1950s, the federal government had defunded public transportation. This causes what we see today: a lack of public and green spaces, decreased walkability, and urban sprawl. These increase dependence on cars. Day-to-day social interactions with strangers and community members are reduced, especially as 67% of commuters drive alone.
Environmentally, the US transportation sec- tor produces 1.74 million metric tons of carbon dioxide per year, more than China, India, and Russia’s combined transportation emissions.
The US is not equipped to address public transportation needs because it is not a political priority. Most systems are underdeveloped, ineffective, and viewed by lawmakers as social welfare for those without vehicles. Citywide expansions, like the construction of the Metro Green Line in Minneapolis, exemplify efforts to integrate public transportation into more people’s lives; but without cohesive networks, the construction of this infrastructure can feel disjointed.
The answer is more investment. As public transportation systems expand, they become more connected and inclusive, improve health, reduce emissions, and prevent motor-vehicle deaths (of which the US has the most amongwealthy peers). According to the American Pub- lic Transportation Association, under a scenario of sustained (20+ years) higher investment in public transportation, the result is a ratio of more than $3.7 billion of additional GDP and 50,731 jobs per $1 billion invested annually.
Cars are not some inevitable solution. The US government could have invested in developing and maintaining public transportation networks that could coexist with cars, like in Canada, Australia and European countries. But it didn’t. Just like we chose to invest in cars, America has a choice in whether we will continue to depend on them. With more public transportation, we would be environmentally, socially, and economically better off. Denser, more efficient urban and suburban communities connected by commuter rails and buses are possible, the first step is wanting to improve. Let’s start wanting.
