Columbus, Ohio, invented the first known off-street parking requirement for an apartment building in 1923. After nearly a hundred years, the results are in, and they’re not good. 

Last year, an assessment of the local zoning code—commissioned by the city as part of a comprehensive code revision process—concluded that off-street parking requirements were “not effective” and “often poorly matched to true parking demand.” 

That mismatch has gotten worse over time. Today’s parking requirements in Columbus are far higher than their cousins from the city’s midcentury zoning code. In 1954, an apartment building with 100 one-bedroom units was required to have 100 parking spaces; today it has to have 150. For a 2,500-square-foot restaurant, nine required parking spaces became 34, in the 90 percent of the city not covered by special overlay districts. These ratios are out of step with the local market, leading builders to request parking reductions more than any other type of zoning variance. City and regional plans have recommended reducing parking requirements and making them more consistent. 

Columbus is not alone. Across the United States, decades of similar parking requirements have led to a glut: researchers estimate that for every car in the country, there are at least three parking spaces—and some have suggested the number is closer to eight spaces.  

This oversupply has created a host of problems: parking requirements can inflate housing costs, block buildings from being adapted to new uses, and contribute to sprawl, making additional driving (and parking) necessary. They create an administrative burden. And the impervious surfaces of parking lots increase the risk of flooding and contribute to the urban heat island effect. 

But there is good news: of all the harms traditional zoning has inflicted on communities, parking requirements are the easiest to fix, said Sara Bronin, former chair of the Hartford, Connecticut, Planning and Zoning Commission. Bronin was at the helm in 2017, when Hartford became one of the first cities in the United States to eliminate residential and commercial parking mandates. The year before, city leaders had tested the waters by eliminating requirements in the downtown area, a move that yielded new development projects and new proposals for reuse. “Every community should be eliminating their parking requirements,” Bronin said.  

Each year, more cities are eliminating or reducing such mandates. In 2021, cities from Minneapolis to Jackson, Tennessee, eliminated minimum parking requirements from their zoning codes. In the week that this article was drafted alone, cities from Spokane to Chicago to Burlington, Vermont, rolled back parking mandates. 

Communities might reduce their parking requirements because they are trying to reinvent themselves by attracting new businesses and development, accommodate population growth with space-efficient infill, or focus more on transit and walkability. Regardless of the reason, parking reform advocates say this land use regulation could finally be on its way out. 

“We’re going to look back at this as just this weird, late-20th century aberration,” predicts Patrick Siegman, an economist and planner who has been studying parking since 1992, including as a partner at the national transportation planning firm Nelson Nygaard. “We created something wildly inefficient.” 

Hartford Leads the Way 

Like many industrial cities in the United States, Hartford saw dramatic population decline during the second half of the 20th century. In 1960, half of the people working in Hartford lived there, many walking or taking transit to jobs downtown; by 1980, less than a quarter of its workforce called the city home. Many white residents had fled for the suburbs and the overall population was declining. The repercussions of this demographic and economic shift are visible in the city’s bounty of parking lots: to accommodate the increase in car commuters, the city essentially paved over swaths of its downtown. 

As historian Daniel Sterner put it, “Hartford is famous for having so much torn down.” Not even the city’s first skyscraper, built in 1912, survived the demolition boom. It was razed to make way for a taller office tower, but those plans were abandoned in 1990 as the country entered a recession. The prominent corner lot became, and remains, surface parking. 

University of Connecticut professor Norman Garrick and his team found that from 1960 to 2000, the amount of land dedicated to parking lots in the downtown business district tripled, nearly equaling the amount of land underneath all the adjacent buildings. “The increase in parking was part of the collapse of the city,” Garrick said. “It’s typical of a lot of American cities.” 

Even without the research, there was little debate that Hartford had an oversupply of parking. “I don’t think every city needs a full-on parking history, or parking analysis,” said Bronin. “Most people should be able to just look around and say, ‘there’s a lot of parking in this city.’” 

The overabundance of parking came at a great cost for the city, Garrick’s team found in a report released in 2014. They estimated that the city was missing out on property tax revenue to the tune of $1,200 per downtown parking space, or about $50 million a year. That was a significant amount for a city whose downtown buildings were generating $75 million in annual tax revenue. 

Attracting investment is critically important for Connecticut’s capital city—and particularly challenging. More than half of the city’s real estate is nontaxable, because the land is owned by the government or nonprofit institutions. The rest is subject to the highest property tax rate in the state. Eliminating parking requirements citywide is one way to create a more flexible, inviting environment for development. 

“It’s easy to say we have no parking minimums, as opposed to ‘what zone?’,” said Aaron Gill, current vice chair of Hartford’s Planning and Zoning Commission. The biggest hurdle now is convincing developers they have new options, Gill said. He encourages developers to revisit parcels they might have discounted in the past, and to review how much parking is actually being used in previous developments.  

The strategy seems to be working. The quasi-public Capital Region Development Authority (CRDA) has funded more than 2,800 new homes downtown since 2012, aiming to build a critical mass of residents to support retail and other services. Mike Freimuth, executive director of the CRDA, said the new zoning code has helped reduce costs and increased the use of existing parking garages. 

One of the CRDA projects, Teachers Village, involved converting an office building that had been vacant for 20 years into housing for area educators. Thirty percent of the apartments were designated as affordable. Prior to the code change, more than one parking space would have been required for each unit, but the renovated building has only 18 underground parking spaces for 60 households. The spaces are leased separately from the apartments, saving money for those who don’t need a parking spot. According to estimates based on 2016 Census data, more than 30 percent of Hartford households don’t even own a car. 

Other redevelopment projects have cut deals with adjacent parking garages, which are also adapting to the new world of remote work, to provide an off-street parking option for residents for an additional fee. Two derelict commercial buildings on Pearl Street, which Freimuth used to joke were the largest pigeon coops in the state, went that route when the buildings were renovated into 258 new homes. A few blocks away, a former Steiger’s department store is being converted into 97 new apartments with commercial space below. 

The CRDA is also involved in an ambitious project known as Bushnell South, which aims to convert a 20-acre area dominated by surface parking into a vibrant, walkable, mixed-use neighborhood with up to 1,200 apartments and townhouses, restaurants and retail, green space, and cultural attractions. The city was reviewing proposals from developers this summer with the goal of moving forward this fall. Although some developers have expressed concern that the city is building more residential space than the market can support, Freimuth is eager to proceed. “This land has been laying fallow for 50 years,” he told the Hartford Courant. “Why do we have to keep on waiting?” 

The Benefits of a Citywide Shift 

On the edge of downtown Fayetteville, Arkansas, a building that had stood vacant for nearly 40 years now houses a local restaurant with a rooftop patio. Down the road, a formerly abandoned gas station is back in use as retail space. The reuse of these once-forgotten properties was made possible several years ago, when Fayetteville’s city council voted to remove commercial parking requirements citywide. 

While most cities start with reducing parking mandates in a central business district, like Hartford did, planners in Fayetteville were fielding requests about properties throughout the city, and opted against defining a smaller boundary. At 44 square miles, Fayetteville is nearly 2.5 times larger than Hartford, with 70 percent of the population. 

“As a city planner, you receive phone calls about what’s possible with this property,” Fayetteville planner Quin Thompson explained. “What I began to see was the same properties over and over again. Some of those properties were downtown, but a lot weren’t.” None of the parcels had enough space to meet the parking requirements in place at the time. 

The planning staff approached the city council with the idea of eliminating commercial requirements citywide. Some of these properties were so constrained, they explained, it was impossible to imagine how they could be redeveloped under the current rules. They also said investors taking on the financial risk of a project were best suited to determine their own parking needs, and would act as a backstop even when the city was no longer regulating off-street parking spaces. In October 2015, Fayetteville’s city council agreed. 

What happened next? “The buildings that I had identified as being perpetually and perhaps permanently unusable were very quickly purchased, redeveloped, and are in use right now,” said Thompson. “I can’t think of any that are still out there that I had used as case studies that haven’t been redeveloped.” 

Thompson and his colleagues were right that the distinction between parking needs in a central city versus outlying neighborhoods can be arbitrary. In the lead-up to the removal of parking requirements in Edmonton in 2020, a citywide study of 277 sites found no clear geographic trend that related to how full parking lots were, even after factoring in variables like population density, walkability as measured by Walk Score, or drive-alone rate. Of all the sites surveyed, only 7 percent neared capacity at the busiest times of day. It was far more common for parking lots to remain half empty, as was the case for 47 percent of observed sites. 

In Fayetteville and other cities, eliminating parking minimums citywide has had another benefit: reducing administrative work and freeing up city staff to work on other things. “One of the things you find in American cities is that they’ve got all of these college-educated planners, many of whom actually have graduate degrees, and what they’re doing is spending hour after hour processing parking variances,” explained Siegman. 

Kevin Robinson was one of those planners, until he was hired as director of Planning and Development Services for Albemarle, North Carolina. To his surprise, the city had almost no parking requirements, having eliminated virtually all of them two decades prior. “However you came about it,” he recalls telling city officials, “I think you’re on the right track.” 

Towns where he had worked previously had only reduced parking requirements in central business districts, not citywide. “From an administrative standpoint, it’s a heck of a lot easier to deal with,” said Robinson. “Quite honestly, a lot of times [parking minimums] are very arbitrary numbers,” Robinson said. Now that he no longer has to enforce them, he has more time to spend on other aspects of development—including a downtown parking plan. He has plenty of data to rebut complaints that there isn’t enough parking. Even at peak hours, public parking never gets more than half full, his heatmaps indicate. 

Robinson acknowledges that eliminating parking minimums wasn’t a cure-all: “We are still seeing far more parking being built than is absolutely necessary.” (See sidebar to learn how the shift has played out in other cities.) Construction in Albemarle is picking up as people get priced out of nearby cities like Charlotte. In the last two years, this small city of 16,000 has approved permits for 3,000 new housing units, with another 1,000 in the works, including middle housing like duplexes and townhouses. 

Robinson is nervous that the parking requirements, which were discarded at a time when the city wasn’t growing, might return as development accelerates. “I’m trying to keep them from going in that direction,” he said. His concerns aren’t unfounded. 

When Mandates Make a U-Turn 

It took almost a decade for a new apartment building with no parking to arrive in Portland after the city waived requirements near transit in 2002. The political backlash came more swiftly. As Portland’s rental market tightened, the city found itself with the second-lowest vacancy rate in the country in 2012. Apartment construction was booming, and buildings without off-street parking were becoming increasingly common. 

Then controversy erupted. The epicenter was a 13-block section of Division Street, a car-oriented commercial corridor experiencing a building boom. By the time the issue made it to the front pages of Willamette Week, the local weekly paper, 11 new multifamily buildings were under development, seven with no parking at all.  

A city-commissioned survey of 115 residents of new apartment buildings would show that 72 percent of the respondents owned cars, with the majority parking on neighborhood streets. Even though the same survey showed that the areas around the buildings had plenty of available parking, neighbors didn’t perceive it that way.  

Mayor Charlie Hales, who had championed the removal of parking mandates as a council member in 2002, even floated the idea of instituting a building moratorium until the zoning code could be sorted out. Hales told Willamette Week that he had anticipated developers might build one parking spot instead of two, but hadn’t imagined banks would finance housing with no parking at all. 

In response to the outcry, Portland’s city council reinstituted a parking requirement for multifamily developments with more than 30 units. Those larger buildings would need to provide one parking space for every three or four units, depending on the building size. “That was the strategic retreat,” Hales explained. “We decided to adjust our ideal slightly to a watered-down version in order to reduce the controversy.” 

Hales, who is no longer mayor, still believes strongly in eliminating parking requirements. “There’s some things we really don’t need to regulate,” he said recently. “Minimum number of parking spaces is one of them.” Given the political pressure of the time, he has a hard time imagining how things could have worked out differently. 

While supporters of parking mandates prevailed in that case, the matter was far from settled. Several years after the 2013 brouhaha, regulated affordable housing near transit regained its exemption from parking requirements, after rising rents and economic displacement prompted Portland to declare a housing state of emergency and elect a tenant advocate to city council. Portland adopted an inclusionary zoning policy that same year, requiring multifamily buildings to set aside units for affordable housing—and waiving residential parking requirements for those buildings. 

Looking back, Portland activist Tony Jordan, who went on to launch the national Parking Reform Network, thinks the city was foolish to derail the housing construction wave. “Why would you do anything” to make developers think twice about investing in larger buildings, he asked. The way the code was written, adding one more unit to a 30-unit building came with “a penalty of six parking spaces, incentivizing builders to stay under the limit. “Even if we only lost 60 apartments,” he said, “that’s a housing subsidy that we just threw away—and for what?” 

Communities with No Parking Minimums 

According to the Parking Reform Network, the following communities do not have citywide minimum parking requirements (dates of implementation indicated when known). Learn more about these and other changes to U.S. parking mandates at www.parkingreform.org. 

• California: Alameda (2021), San Francisco (2018), Emeryville (2019) 

• Connecticut: Bridgeport (2022), Hartford (2017) 

• Georgia: Dunwoody (2019) 

• Indiana: South Bend (2021) 

• Michigan: Ann Arbor (2022), Mancelona, Ecorse (2020), River Rouge (2021) 

• Minnesota: Minneapolis (2021), St. Paul (2021) 

• Missouri: Branson 

• New Hampshire: Seabrook (2019), Dover (2015) 

• New York: Buffalo (2017), Canandaigua, Hudson (2019), Saranac Lake (2016) 

• North Carolina: Raleigh (2022) 

• Tennessee: Jackson (2021) 

• Texas: Bandera, Bastrop (2019) 

• Alberta: Edmonton (2020), High River (2021) 

Stopping Parking Spillover 

When parking complaints bubbled up in Portland’s Northwest neighborhood in 2016, the city was ready to try a different strategy: directly managing on-street parking. A local parking advisory committee had petitioned Portland’s city council to apply the citywide parking requirements to the growing district, which had historically been exempted. But when a study showed that those regulations would have made 23 percent of newly constructed homes in the neighborhood illegal, the council opted to improve the district’s fledgling parking permit program instead. 

“When city staff manage on-street parking properly, they can prevent that on-street parking from getting overcrowded with a 99 percent success rate,” said Siegman, who has spent much of his career studying spillover parking concerns. The problem, he said, is that almost no one has training in how to manage street parking in a way that is both effective and politically popular. On-street parking management is not part of the core curriculum for planners or transportation engineers. 

“What you’re essentially doing with on-street parking spaces is taking a valuable resource that belongs to the public and setting up rights to determine who gets to use it,” said Siegman. Any hotel manager knows that once the keys are gone, there is no vacancy. Yet cities often hand out multiple residential permits for every street space, and wait until the problem is so bad that neighbors have to petition for curbside management. When a neighborhood has more drivers seeking permits than there are on-street spaces, there are a number of ways to ensure balance. Boundaries for a parking district could exclude new buildings or households with driveways, or restrict the number of permits to the street frontage of the lot—forcing developers and incoming residents to make a plan for storing cars off-site.

Left to the Market, How Much Parking Gets Built? 

In Buffalo, New York, which struck down parking requirements in April 2017, a review of 36 major developments showed that 53 percent of projects still opted to include at least as many parking spaces as the previous code had required. The developers who did propose building less parking averaged 60 fewer parking spaces than the old minimum required, avoiding over eight acres of unnecessary asphalt and saving up to $30 million in construction costs. 

Seattle saw similar results after eliminating parking requirements near transit in 2012. A study of 868 residential developments permitted in the following five years found that 70 percent of new buildings in areas not subject to parking requirements still chose to have on-site parking. Collectively, the new buildings included 40 percent fewer parking spaces than would have previously been required, saving an estimated $537 million in construction costs and freeing up 144 acres of land. 

Siegman estimates the costs of setting up an effective parking permit program could be somewhere in the neighborhood of $100,000—a bargain compared to the cost of building parking, which can run as much as $50,000 per space. “There are all kinds of different feelings about what’s fair,” Siegman said, “but you can often come to a solution that has durable majority political support.” 

That’s what officials in Vancouver, British Columbia, did in 2017 to resolve crowded curbs in the West End. Despite 94 percent of residents having access to an off-street parking space, many still preferred to park on the street. Over 6,000 drivers had opted for the $6 a month permit for the chance to park in one of the 2,747 on-street spaces. When the city raised permit prices to $30 per month—more in line with what private garages charged—and installed more parking meters, curb congestion cleared up. Before that change, only one out of five blocks met the city’s standards of being less than 85 percent full at the busiest time of day. Within two years of the pricing adjustments, all of the blocks measured below that threshold, making it far easier to find a parking space. 

The Next Wave of Parking Reform 

More and more, champions of eliminating parking mandates are getting elected to offices and planning commissions, according to Jordan, of the Parking Reform Network. “One person can really get the idea and push it through,” he said. The growing number of cities that have taken this deregulatory action provides political cover for policy makers who have been hesitant to go first. 

But parking reform advocates say change should and will happen beyond the local level. Since “the perceived benefits of instituting parking regulations [have been] almost entirely local,” Siegman said, he thinks almost all of the productive reform to get rid of minimum parking laws is going to come from regional, state, or national governments. 

A wave of legislation against parking mandates has been gathering momentum on the West Coast. In 2020, Washington State quietly capped excessive parking requirements near transit for market-rate and affordable housing. California’s third attempt to limit local parking requirements near public transit succeeded in September with the signing of AB 2097. That came on the heels of another statewide rollback in Oregon, where a state land use commission struck down parking mandates for projects near transit, affordable housing, and small homes across the state’s eight largest metro regions, which house 60 percent of Oregon’s population.  

By July 2023, nearly 50 cities in Oregon will need to choose between wholly eliminating minimum parking requirements or implementing a suite of other tools to manage parking and comply with the new administrative rule. They are sure to have lots of company, as municipalities and states across the nation weigh the harm these regulations have caused against the 20th century dream of free and easy parking. 

Aaron Gill, of the Hartford Planning and Zoning Commission, has some simple advice for jurisdictions considering removing parking minimums: “I would say just do it. Don’t waste time having a discussion as to if it’s going to work or not. The reality is we have way too much parking in this country.” 

Catie Gould is a transportation researcher with the Seattle-based nonprofit think tank Sightline Institute. 

Lead image: Fordham Heights, New York. Credit: krblokhin via iStock/Getty Images Plus. 

Zoning is often considered a timeless element of land policy and planning. And it is. Zoning originated in Asia more than three millennia ago. In those days, it was used to designate land uses behind city walls or to separate people by caste. The practice was adopted more recently in the United States to pursue similar ends. It is now one of the biggest impediments to sustainability in U.S. cities in the 21st century. 

I’ve made my feelings about hyperlocal land control known for many years. A decade ago, on a panel with Nic Retsinas, then director of the Joint Center for Housing Studies at Harvard, I opined that home rule and local land use controls were “dinosaurs” that made it almost impossible to coordinate regional transportation planning and affordable housing efforts. Nic reminded me and the audience that powerful political and economic forces stood firmly in the way of land policy reform. And he noted that dinosaurs lasted for millions of years before becoming extinct—because of a random asteroid colliding with Earth, not natural selection. 

But now, something almost as rare as a planet-changing asteroid is afoot in the world of land policy—bipartisan agreement. Numerous blue, red, and purple states have passed or are contemplating efforts to preempt local zoning so they can advance critical policy objectives. Why the sudden shift? Because many policy makers now understand that the national affordable housing crisis cannot be addressed without structural changes to the rules of the game. Other policy makers know that we cannot address one of the ugliest manifestations of zoning—spatial segregation by race and class—without aggressive affirmative action. 

Although we are seeing bipartisan agreement on the need for reform, the motivations of policy makers are quite different. Advocates from the right argue that the housing crisis is an artifact of overregulation that stifles housing production. These critics believe zoning reform will unleash market forces that will confront the housing crisis by accelerating new production. Advocates from the left argue that we cannot build affordable housing in places we need it most because of land policies that have effectively excluded people based on race and income for generations, such as minimum lot sizes and bans on multifamily housing. Zoning reform will make it possible, they say, to build affordable housing in “high opportunity” places with good schools and decent jobs. 

State preemption of local zoning is not new. In 1969, Massachusetts passed Chapter 40B, a measure that allows the state to override local zoning and approve mixed-income, multifamily developments in jurisdictions with little affordable housing. Although it has helped to promote some affordable housing development in some affluent suburbs, it was not a game changer, and few other states considered following suit, until very recently. 

Now, some 10 states are ready to preempt local zoning to permit development of multiple housing units on lots that are currently zoned for single-family homes. These include the right to add accessory dwelling units (ADUs) to single-family lots in Connecticut, Nebraska, Utah, Oregon, Maryland, California, and Washington; approving “middle housing,” two- to four-family townhomes, on lots zoned for single families in Virginia, Utah, Nebraska, Washington, and Maryland; or complete preemption of local government efforts to prohibit multifamily housing development on single-family lots in Oregon, California, Virginia, Maine, and Washington. Massachusetts and California also recently mandated upzoning in “transit-rich” communities. Clearly, local control over land use is no longer sacrosanct.  

Although zoning practice is thousands of years old, in the United States it is less than a century old, with a few exceptions. States began granting municipalities the power to dictate land uses in the 1920s, based on the Standard State Zoning Enabling Act drafted by the Department of Commerce in 1923. But what states giveth, states can taketh away. It is sometimes necessary for higher levels of government to supersede the decisions of lower levels of government to promote general welfare or address negative externalities that are artifacts of uncoordinated actions at lower levels. Too often, state efforts to override local governments are misguided; for example, when state policy makers curry favor from voters by imposing property tax limits. In the case of zoning, the need for state action is clearly defensible. 

We should celebrate the fact that we are moving in the right direction—mustering the political will to take on a challenge that was, until very recently, considered impossible. But we still know less about zoning than we should. Each state, and often individual jurisdictions in a state, developed its own zoning conventions, which makes it extremely difficult to compare zoning practices among them. It also makes it almost impossible to understand the implications of zoning decisions on land values, development patterns, or how zoning reform might address big challenges like the housing crisis, spatial inequality, or urban sprawl. This too is changing. 

Last year, a small team of visionaries at Cornell Law School, led by Professor Sara Bronin, produced the first Zoning Atlas for the State of Connecticut. Using spreadsheets, maps, and geographic information systems, the team documented, with impressive granularity, residential zoning practices in 180 jurisdictions with 2,622 zoning districts. Incredibly, this required reviewing more than 30,000 pages of text describing zoning practices—in one state!  

This herculean task apparently was not a big enough challenge for this plucky band of researchers. The Cornell team recently launched an effort to build a National Zoning Atlas. Now, with a field-tested methodology for creating the Zoning Atlas in Connecticut, they have set out to crowdsource zoning data from the rest of the country using the same methods. So far, self-organized teams in 11 states are participating. When they succeed at building the national atlas—and the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy will do all it can to make sure that happens—a new era of land policy scholarship will arrive. Debates about the costs, benefits, and consequences of zoning reform will be informed by real data. 

Zoning reform alone is not sufficient to solve the national housing crisis. But it is necessary. And we need to know a lot more about current zoning practices, and the potential benefits of improved zoning practice, to address the ills generated by decades of bad practice. A century of decentralized and isolated local control of land produced unacceptable levels of racial and economic segregation, urban sprawl that contributed to the climate crisis, and an almost unassailable affordable housing crisis. With the unprecedented alignment of political will with new tools and knowledge, possible solutions to this triple threat are closer than they have ever been. 

George W. McCarthy is president and CEO of the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy. 

Image: The interactive Connecticut Zoning Atlas is the first stage of a national effort to document zoning across the United States. Credit: National Zoning Atlas.

In northern California, three regional agencies representing some 11 million people are banding together to address long-term transportation planning issues. In the Northeast, a dozen states are collaborating on an effort to bring down greenhouse gas emissions. And in other places across the United States, from the Southwest to the Midwest, governments and organizations in large metropolitan areas are embracing regional strategies to address challenges that cross jurisdictional boundaries. 

It’s an approach that planners have been encouraging for some time, as adjacent U.S. metro areas seemed increasingly destined to merge. Jonathan Barnett remembers attending a conference in London in 2004, and watching as maps of expected urban growth and regional development in the United States flashed onto a screen. At the time, Barnett was the director of the Urban Design Program at the University of Pennsylvania. He and his colleagues had been pondering the implications of Census Bureau projections that the U.S. population might grow 50 percent or more by 2050, an increase of more than 100 million people. 

“What popped out at everybody in the room was that there was a pattern emerging in the maps of where these people were going to go,” Barnett says. “You can see [these urban patterns] from space, and it’s a little like looking at the stars and seeing Orion and Sagittarius. We realized that something important was happening.” 

Bob Yaro was in the room that day, too. “You could see that, across the country, the suburbs of one metropolitan region were merging with the suburbs of the next metropolitan region,” recalls Yaro, who led the Regional Plan Association at the time while teaching at the University of Pennsylvania. “Physically, these places were becoming integrated with each other. And then when we looked at economic and demographic trends, you could see that in fact the lives of these cities and metropolitan areas were merging with their neighbors.” 

This was hardly the first time that geographers and planners had taken note of the way linked metropolitan areas can share economies, natural resource systems, infrastructure, history, and culture. But by the turn of the 21st century, the scope and pace of the phenomenon were reaching new levels in the United States.  

Not long after the conference in London, Armando Carbonell—who retired from the Lincoln Institute this year after leading its urban planning program for more than two decades—gave the phenomenon a name that would stick: megaregions. 

A band of planners, including Yaro, Barnett, and others, has picked up the banner of megaregions, arguing that these urban areas have an outsize importance nationally. “More than eight in 10 Americans live in these places, and it’s over 90 percent of the economy of the country,” Yaro says. “So it’s very clear that if these places don’t succeed or aren’t operating at their full potential, the whole country’s economy and livability will suffer.” 

This spring, the Lincoln Institute published Megaregions and America’s Future, which Yaro wrote with Ming Zhang, director of Community and Regional Planning at the University of Texas at Austin, and Frederick Steiner, dean of the University of Pennsylvania’s Stuart Weitzman School of Design. They argue that megaregions may offer a way for the United States to contend with challenges that don’t respect arbitrary political boundaries, from climate change to public health crises like COVID-19. Megaregions can, if properly and creatively governed, strengthen climate resilience, natural resource management, economic competitiveness, and equity at the local, regional, and national levels. 

What Constitutes a Megaregion 

For more than a century, the heavily populated region stretching from Boston to Washington, DC, has drawn the attention of geographers. In his 1915 book Cities in Evolution, Patrick Geddes gave the swath of urban development running from Boston to New York the decidedly unlovely term “conurbation.” In 1961, French geographer Jean Gottman called the region a “megalopolis.” And in 1967, Herman Kahn gave the whole corridor the equally unlovely name “BosWash.” 

It would take another three decades before these boundary-busting phenomena began receiving more comprehensive academic attention, but the pace has been picking up over the last 20 years as the University of Pennsylvania, the Lincoln Institute, and others have worked to advance people’s understanding of what megaregions are and how they function. 

Definitions vary of what, exactly, constitutes a megaregion, but they are generally defined as regional economies that clearly extend beyond an individual metropolitan area. “I think of megaregions as a way of thinking about space, more than as real things that are out there,” says Carbonell. “I see it as a construct and a tool, [but] megaregions are not fixed and they change.” 

Researchers have used a variety of innovative approaches to identify and delineate individual megaregions. One analysis looked at the commuting habits of more than 4.2 million Americans to identify megaregions. Another used satellite imagery to identify contiguously lighted urban agglomerations across the globe, then—with a sort of Seussian whimsy—gave those places names like So-Flo, Chi-Pitts, Char-Lanta, Tor-Buff-Chester, and Am-Brus-Twerp (Florida, Gulden, and Mellander 2008). To estimate economic activity in each megaregion, that study combined the satellite-imaged light footprints with population and GDP data, extrapolating a “Light-based Regional Product.” It also used the number of patent registrations and highly cited scientific authors in each megaregion as a measure of technological and scientific innovation. 

At this point, researchers have identified about 40 megaregions around the world (see sidebar). In Megaregions and America’s Future, the authors focus on 13 megaregions in the United States (see map). Those are the venerable Northeast; Piedmont Atlantic, a southern stretch that includes sections of Georgia, Alabama, Tennessee, and the Carolinas; Florida; Great Lakes; Gulf Coast; Central Plains; Texas Triangle; Front Range in Colorado; Basin and Range (Utah and Idaho); Cascadia (the Pacific Northwest from Portland to Vancouver, BC); Northern California; Southern California; and Arizona’s Sun Corridor (Yaro, Zhang, and Steiner 2022). 

Many of these megaregions have economies that put them within the rankings of the world’s biggest national economies. In 2018, for example, the Northeast megaregion had a GDP of $4.54 trillion—more than that of Germany. The same year, the nearly $1.8 trillion GDP of the Southern California megaregion was larger than that of Canada. In many ways, a megaregion is an increasingly spontaneous and organic unit of organization, one that presents more opportunity than the traditional political divisions that it transcends. 

Megaregions Around the Globe 

Scholars have identified more than 40 megaregions around the world, and several more are rapidly forming in China, India, and Southeast Asia. Established megaregions include: 

Pentagon, Europe. This region, whose outlines are defined by Paris, London, Hamburg, Munich, and Milan, was identified as an economic and transportation hub in 1999. It covers about 20 percent of the continent and is responsible for 60 percent of its economic output. Several other megaregion models have also been applied and explored in Europe. 

Tokaido, Japan. The corridor between Tokyo and Osaka is home to more than half of the country’s population. Its cities are linked by the Shinkansen high-speed rail network, which has reduced travel time between Tokyo and Osaka from eight hours in the early 20th century to two and a half hours today; a bullet train in development will further reduce the trip to one hour. 

Pearl River Delta, China. The most densely populated urban area in the world, the Pearl River Delta includes Guangzhou, Shenzhen, and Hong Kong. The Chinese government has invested several hundred billion dollars in high-speed rail designed to strengthen connections within and among the Pearl River Delta, Yangtze River Delta, the region around Beijing and Tianjin, and burgeoning megaregions in coastal and inland areas. 

Collaborating on Climate Mitigation 

One of the most prominent examples of successful initiatives that span a megaregion is the Regional Greenhouse Gas Initiative (RGGI), a cooperative effort to cap and reduce power sector carbon dioxide emissions in New England and the Mid-Atlantic. Known in shorthand as “Reggie,” it is the first mandatory cap and trade program for greenhouse gas emissions in the country and now spans 12 states. 

At the turn of the 21st century, efforts to establish a national cap and trade framework for greenhouse gas emissions were fizzling. In 2003, then–New York Governor George Pataki sent a letter to the governors of other states in the Northeast proposing a bipartisan effort to fight climate change. In 2005, the initial agreement to implement RGGI was signed by the governors of Connecticut, Delaware, Maine, New Hampshire, New Jersey, New York, and Vermont. In 2007, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Maryland signed on. 

“I think for the states that recognized that climate change was real and a problem, there was a desire and an appetite to take some leadership,” says Bruce Ho, who heads the Natural Resource Defense Council’s work on RGGI. “Climate change is a global problem, and we need to be acting as much as possible in a coordinated way. But at the same time, there’s a recognition that you have to start somewhere.” 

Even as climate change efforts at the federal level foundered, RGGI got stronger and expanded. In 2014, the participating states reduced the emissions cap by 40 percent and committed to further year-by-year reductions. Then in 2017, the states agreed to aim for an even steeper decline in emissions, and also agreed to extend those emissions reductions efforts through at least 2030. 

Since RGGI began, power plant emissions have decreased by more than 50 percent—twice as much as the national decrease during the same time—and the program has raised over $4 billion by auctioning carbon allowances. That money has been invested in local energy efficiency programs, renewable energy, and other initiatives. Virginia, for example, dedicates half of its RGGI funding to low-income energy efficiency programs and puts the other half toward flood preparedness and sea-level rise mitigation in coastal communities. 

While not immune to criticism, RGGI is “an early example of a megaregion-scale initiative that has held up quite well,” says Carbonell—and it continues to gain momentum. Although then–Governor Chris Christie withdrew New Jersey from RGGI in 2012, the state rejoined in 2020. Virginia joined in 2021, and Pennsylvania followed this year. Leaders in North Carolina, spurred by a citizens’ rulemaking petition, are now considering joining RGGI as well. 

Hopes for High-Speed Rail 

One of the key challenges of megaregions is how people get around within them. Because megaregions can run 300 to 800 miles across, they demand an approach to transportation that has largely been ignored in the United States. “They’re too small to be efficiently traversed by air, and too large to be easily traversed by road,” Yaro says. “And then on top of that, the airports, airspace, and the interstate highway links in these places are highly congested.”  

Putting a new emphasis on high-speed rail, which can reach speeds over 200 miles per hour, will help relieve a transportation system that is groaning under strain nationwide, says Yaro, who is now president of the North Atlantic Rail Alliance, a group advocating a high-speed and high-performance “rail-enabled economic development strategy” for New York and New England. In addition to reducing congestion, highspeed rail can decrease emissions; it can also spur economic development by connecting people with jobs and other opportunities throughout a region. 

Plenty of successful examples of high-speed rail systems exist worldwide. In Japan, for example, the world’s first high-speed rail line—the famous Shinkansen, or bullet train—has linked Tokyo, Nagoya, and Osaka into a single megaregion. The system, which now carries over 420,000 passengers each weekday, will mark its 60th year of service in 2024. In Europe, nine countries now operate high-speed rail on more than 5,500 miles of track. Perhaps no country has embraced high-speed rail as enthusiastically as China. Since just 2008, its government has built a system that reaches practically every corner of the sprawling country on more than 23,500 miles of track—and counting. 

In the United States, an early realization of the concept’s potential has been slow to gain traction. In 1966, U.S. Senator Claiborne Pell of Rhode Island proposed a high-speed line between Boston and Washington in his book, Megalopolis Unbound: The Supercity and the Transportation of Tomorrow. In 2000, Amtrak started Acela service between Boston and Washington. Because it reaches 150 miles per hour, it qualifies as high-speed rail—yet it hits that upper limit over only about 34 miles of the 457-mile route. The Acela’s average speed is just 70 miles per hour. 

Plans for intercity high-speed rail have been considered or are underway in other regions; the Texas Central Line would connect Dallas and Houston, while the Brightline West project would link Southern California to Las Vegas. Elsewhere in California, construction is underway on an ambitious line that will connect San Francisco and Los Angeles, with a second phase extending the line north to Sacramento and south to San Diego. But challenges related to funding, politics, and logistics have meant that high-speed rail has barely made it out of the blocks. 

Early versions of last year’s infrastructure bill included $10 billion for high-speed rail, but that was cut during negotiations. While proponents keep pushing for meaningful federal investment in a high-speed network, megaregions can also benefit from investments in existing systems—or “fast-enough rail,” as Barnett dubs it in his book Designing the Megaregion: “There are many transportation improvements that can be made incrementally to give a much better structure to the evolving megaregions.” 

Sharing Solutions in California 

The Northern California Megaregion extends across the cities of the San Francisco Bay Area, Sacramento, and the San Joaquin Valley. The region has seen a dramatic increase in commuters from inland communities like Tracy and Stockton to jobs in the Bay Area, and has some of the nation’s longest average commute times.  

James Corless heads the Sacramento Area Council of Governments, but previously worked for the Metropolitan Transportation Commission, the agency responsible for planning and financing regional transportation in the Bay Area. In the mid-2000s, he says, regional agencies began looking at the swath of cities running from the Bay Area to Sacramento as an emerging megaregion, and gave it a name that put it squarely in the ranks of places like So-Flo and Char-Lanta. “We actually coined the phrase ‘San Framento,’” Corless says. “Everybody hated it. But it got people’s attention.” 

In 2015, the Metropolitan Transportation Commission, Sacramento Area Council of Governments, and San Joaquin Council of Governments signed an MOU to create a Megaregion Working Group. Their goal: to begin tackling issues that transcended the boundaries of the 16 counties and 136 cities they collectively represented.  

It took a while for the effort to gain momentum, precisely because of the sprawling nature of the megaregion. “I kept seeing these megaregion meetings pop up on my calendar and then get canceled,” Corless says. “Because for elected officials to get together from across these 16 counties, it requires an entire day of travel.” 

The arrival of COVID, and the resulting turn toward conducting government business via Zoom, helped bridge that distance and give the effort momentum. “At first, we were struggling a little bit to find our focus,” Corless says. Gradually, though, the participating entities began asking a simple question: “Where are we stronger together?”  

Late in 2021, the Megaregion Working Group announced a list of a dozen transportation-focused projects, from highway improvements to expansion of three regional rail lines. The California high-speed rail system that’s under construction—but far from completion—doesn’t much play into the working group’s plans, Corless says. “I have no doubt that high-speed rail will be a game changer,” he says. But “if we could just get reliable medium-speed rail, we’ll take that.” 

In fact, much of the megaregional effort is more quotidian than flashy infrastructure projects. The partners are focusing on integrating their regional plans and synchronizing their long-range planning cycles. “Because so much of our travel and even our housing markets are now intertwined,” Corless says, “if we’re looking out at the next 25 years, we need to be in sync.” 

The concept of megaregions is coming of age, Corless says, in much the same way that the rise of metropolitan planning organizations helped meet new challenges in the 1960s. “Once American cities suburbanized,” he says, “you couldn’t rely on the central city to do everything. People were more mobile, economies were bigger, and the issues transcended local city and county boundaries.” 

Moving Megaregions Forward 

What will it take to push the megaregion concept—which essentially invites those metropolitan planning organizations to an even bigger table—more squarely into the public consciousness and the policy realm?  

Bob Yaro thinks one answer is the climate crisis, which could push regions to work together in new ways. “I think it takes a crisis to do anything big in this country,” Yaro says. “You read these stories about whole counties running out of water. And that’s only going to get worse. [To address] the climate issue, you need both adaptation and mitigation strategies, and those mitigation strategies probably become most efficacious at the megaregion scale.” 

The RGGI initiative in the Northeast offers one example of how that kind of collaboration can work; the current water crisis in the desert Southwest offers another. There, tough times have, somewhat paradoxically, made for closer connections. Communities and governments have looked toward their neighbors and realized that they can do more together. 

The seven U.S. states that rely on water from the Colorado River, along with Mexico, have historically had an extremely contentious relationship. Yet, while recent headlines scream about impending water catastrophe, those parties have for more than 20 years been quietly working together on agreements intended to minimize the collective damage that they might suffer. A sense of partnership, however tenuous and prone to ongoing tensions, has been supplanting longstanding parochial attitudes toward the river.  

As metro regions melt together and global challenges ramp up, a growing sense of shared fate with historically distant neighbors could help tackle all kinds of problems that might once have seemed insurmountable. 

“I think one of the things we need to do is redefine ‘home,’ and the Southwest is Exhibit A on why that needs to happen,” Yaro says. “I think it’s redefining home at this larger scale. The final boundaries are going to depend on an individual community’s sense of association with their neighbors—but the place doesn’t succeed unless we do that.” 

Matt Jenkins is a freelance writer who has contributed to the New York Times, Smithsonian, Men’s Journal, and numerous other publications. 

Lead image: A rendering of the United States as seen from space, based on NASA images. Credit: DKosig via iStock.

In northern California, three regional agencies representing some 11 million people are banding together to address long-term transportation planning issues. In the Northeast, a dozen states are collaborating on an effort to bring down greenhouse gas emissions. And in other places across the United States, from the Southwest to the Midwest, governments and organizations in large metropolitan areas are using regional strategies to address challenges that cross jurisdictional boundaries. 

It’s an approach that planners have been encouraging for some time, as adjacent U.S. metro areas seemed increasingly destined to merge. Jonathan Barnett remembers attending a conference in London in 2004, and watching as maps of expected urban growth and regional development in the United States flashed onto a screen. At the time, Barnett was the director of the Urban Design Program at the University of Pennsylvania. He and his colleagues had been pondering the implications of Census Bureau projections that the U.S. population might grow 50 percent or more by 2050, an increase of more than 100 million people. 

“What popped out at everybody in the room was that there was a pattern emerging in the maps of where these people were going to go,” Barnett says. “You can see [these urban patterns] from space, and it’s a little like looking at the stars and seeing Orion and Sagittarius. We realized that something important was happening.” 

Bob Yaro was in the room that day, too. “You could see that, across the country, the suburbs of one metropolitan region were merging with the suburbs of the next metropolitan region,” recalls Yaro, who led the Regional Plan Association at the time while teaching at the University of Pennsylvania. “Physically, these places were becoming integrated with each other. And then when we looked at economic and demographic trends, you could see that in fact the lives of these cities and metropolitan areas were merging with their neighbors.” 

This was hardly the first time that geographers and planners had taken note of the way linked metropolitan areas can share economies, natural resource systems, infrastructure, history, and culture. But by the turn of the 21st century, the scope and pace of the phenomenon were reaching new levels in the United States.  

Not long after the conference in London, Armando Carbonell—who retired from the Lincoln Institute this year after leading its urban planning program for more than two decades—gave the phenomenon a name that would stick: megaregions. 

A band of planners, including Yaro, Barnett, and others, has picked up the banner of megaregions, arguing that these urban areas have an outsize importance nationally. “More than eight in 10 Americans live in these places, and it’s over 90 percent of the economy of the country,” Yaro says. “So it’s very clear that if these places don’t succeed or aren’t operating at their full potential, the whole country’s economy and livability will suffer.” 

This spring, the Lincoln Institute published Megaregions and America’s Future, which Yaro wrote with Ming Zhang, director of Community and Regional Planning at the University of Texas at Austin, and Frederick Steiner, dean of the University of Pennsylvania’s Stuart Weitzman School of Design. They argue that megaregions may offer a way for the United States to contend with challenges that don’t respect arbitrary political boundaries, from climate change to public health crises like COVID-19. Megaregions can, if properly and creatively governed, strengthen climate resilience, natural resource management, economic competitiveness, and equity at the local, regional, and national levels. 

What Constitutes a Megaregion 

For more than a century, the heavily populated region stretching from Boston to Washington, DC, has drawn the attention of geographers. In his 1915 book Cities in Evolution, Patrick Geddes gave the swath of urban development running from Boston to New York the decidedly unlovely term “conurbation.” In 1961, French geographer Jean Gottman called the region a “megalopolis.” And in 1967, Herman Kahn gave the whole corridor the equally unlovely name “BosWash.” 

It would take another three decades before these boundary-busting phenomena began receiving more comprehensive academic attention, but the pace has been picking up over the last 20 years as the University of Pennsylvania, the Lincoln Institute, and others have worked to advance people’s understanding of what megaregions are and how they function. 

Definitions vary of what, exactly, constitutes a megaregion, but they are generally defined as regional economies that clearly extend beyond an individual metropolitan area. “I think of megaregions as a way of thinking about space, more than as real things that are out there,” says Carbonell. “I see it as a construct and a tool, [but] megaregions are not fixed and they change.” 

Researchers have used a variety of innovative approaches to identify and delineate individual megaregions. One analysis looked at the commuting habits of more than 4.2 million Americans to identify megaregions. Another used satellite imagery to identify contiguously lighted urban agglomerations across the globe, then—with a sort of Seussian whimsy—gave those places names like So-Flo, Chi-Pitts, Char-Lanta, Tor-Buff-Chester, and Am-Brus-Twerp (Florida, Gulden, and Mellander 2008). To estimate economic activity in each megaregion, that study combined the satellite-imaged light footprints with population and GDP data, extrapolating a “Light-based Regional Product.” It also used the number of patent registrations and highly cited scientific authors in each megaregion as a measure of technological and scientific innovation. 

At this point, researchers have identified about 40 megaregions around the world (see sidebar). In Megaregions and America’s Future, the authors focus on 13 megaregions in the United States (see map). Those are the venerable Northeast; Piedmont Atlantic, a southern stretch that includes sections of Georgia, Alabama, Tennessee, and the Carolinas; Florida; Great Lakes; Gulf Coast; Central Plains; Texas Triangle; Front Range in Colorado; Basin and Range (Utah and Idaho); Cascadia (the Pacific Northwest from Portland to Vancouver, BC); Northern California; Southern California; and Arizona’s Sun Corridor (Yaro, Zhang, and Steiner 2022). 

Many of these megaregions have economies that put them within the rankings of the world’s biggest national economies. In 2018, for example, the Northeast megaregion had a GDP of $4.54 trillion—more than that of Germany. The same year, the nearly $1.8 trillion GDP of the Southern California megaregion was larger than that of Canada. In many ways, a megaregion is an increasingly spontaneous and organic unit of organization, one that presents more opportunity than the traditional political divisions that it transcends. 

Megaregions Around the Globe 

Scholars have identified more than 40 megaregions around the world, and several more are rapidly forming in China, India, and Southeast Asia. Established megaregions include: 

Pentagon, Europe. This region, whose outlines are defined by Paris, London, Hamburg, Munich, and Milan, was identified as an economic and transportation hub in 1999. It covers about 20 percent of the continent and is responsible for 60 percent of its economic output. Several other megaregion models have also been applied and explored in Europe. 

Tokaido, Japan. The corridor between Tokyo and Osaka is home to more than half of the country’s population. Its cities are linked by the Shinkansen high-speed rail network, which has reduced travel time between Tokyo and Osaka from eight hours in the early 20th century to two and a half hours today; a bullet train in development will further reduce the trip to one hour. 

Pearl River Delta, China. The most densely populated urban area in the world, the Pearl River Delta includes Guangzhou, Shenzhen, and Hong Kong. The Chinese government has invested several hundred billion dollars in high-speed rail designed to strengthen connections within and among the Pearl River Delta, Yangtze River Delta, the region around Beijing and Tianjin, and burgeoning megaregions in coastal and inland areas. 

Collaborating on Climate Mitigation 

One of the most prominent examples of successful initiatives that span a megaregion is the Regional Greenhouse Gas Initiative (RGGI), a cooperative effort to cap and reduce power sector carbon dioxide emissions in New England and the Mid-Atlantic. Known in shorthand as “Reggie,” it is the first mandatory cap and trade program for greenhouse gas emissions in the country and now spans 12 states. 

At the turn of the 21st century, efforts to establish a national cap and trade framework for greenhouse gas emissions were fizzling. In 2003, then–New York Governor George Pataki sent a letter to the governors of other states in the Northeast proposing a bipartisan effort to fight climate change. In 2005, the initial agreement to implement RGGI was signed by the governors of Connecticut, Delaware, Maine, New Hampshire, New Jersey, New York, and Vermont. In 2007, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Maryland signed on. 

“I think for the states that recognized that climate change was real and a problem, there was a desire and an appetite to take some leadership,” says Bruce Ho, who heads the Natural Resource Defense Council’s work on RGGI. “Climate change is a global problem, and we need to be acting as much as possible in a coordinated way. But at the same time, there’s a recognition that you have to start somewhere.” 

Even as climate change efforts at the federal level foundered, RGGI got stronger and expanded. In 2014, the participating states reduced the emissions cap by 40 percent and committed to further year-by-year reductions. Then in 2017, the states agreed to aim for an even steeper decline in emissions, and also agreed to extend those emissions reductions efforts through at least 2030. 

Since RGGI began, power plant emissions have decreased by more than 50 percent—twice as much as the national decrease during the same time—and the program has raised over $4 billion by auctioning carbon allowances. That money has been invested in local energy efficiency programs, renewable energy, and other initiatives. Virginia, for example, dedicates half of its RGGI funding to low-income energy efficiency programs and puts the other half toward flood preparedness and sea-level rise mitigation in coastal communities. 

While not immune to criticism, RGGI is “an early example of a megaregion-scale initiative that has held up quite well,” says Carbonell—and it continues to gain momentum. Although then–Governor Chris Christie withdrew New Jersey from RGGI in 2012, the state rejoined in 2020. Virginia joined in 2021, and Pennsylvania followed this year. Leaders in North Carolina, spurred by a citizens’ rulemaking petition, are now considering joining RGGI as well. 

Hopes for High-Speed Rail 

One of the key challenges of megaregions is how people get around within them. Because megaregions can run 300 to 800 miles across, they demand an approach to transportation that has largely been ignored in the United States. “They’re too small to be efficiently traversed by air, and too large to be easily traversed by road,” Yaro says. “And then on top of that, the airports, airspace, and the interstate highway links in these places are highly congested.”  

Putting a new emphasis on high-speed rail, which can reach speeds over 200 miles per hour, will help relieve a transportation system that is groaning under strain nationwide, says Yaro, who is now president of the North Atlantic Rail Alliance, a group advocating a high-speed and high-performance “rail-enabled economic development strategy” for New York and New England. In addition to reducing congestion, highspeed rail can decrease emissions; it can also spur economic development by connecting people with jobs and other opportunities throughout a region. 

Plenty of successful examples of high-speed rail systems exist worldwide. In Japan, for example, the world’s first high-speed rail line—the famous Shinkansen, or bullet train—has linked Tokyo, Nagoya, and Osaka into a single megaregion. The system, which now carries over 420,000 passengers each weekday, will mark its 60th year of service in 2024. In Europe, nine countries now operate high-speed rail on more than 5,500 miles of track. Perhaps no country has embraced high-speed rail as enthusiastically as China. Since just 2008, its government has built a system that reaches practically every corner of the sprawling country on more than 23,500 miles of track—and counting. 

In the United States, an early realization of the concept’s potential has been slow to gain traction. In 1966, U.S. Senator Claiborne Pell of Rhode Island proposed a high-speed line between Boston and Washington in his book, Megalopolis Unbound: The Supercity and the Transportation of Tomorrow. In 2000, Amtrak started Acela service between Boston and Washington. Because it reaches 150 miles per hour, it qualifies as high-speed rail—yet it hits that upper limit over only about 34 miles of the 457-mile route. The Acela’s average speed is just 70 miles per hour. 

Plans for intercity high-speed rail have been considered or are underway in other regions; the Texas Central Line would connect Dallas and Houston, while the Brightline West project would link Southern California to Las Vegas. Elsewhere in California, construction is underway on an ambitious line that will connect San Francisco and Los Angeles, with a second phase extending the line north to Sacramento and south to San Diego. But challenges related to funding, politics, and logistics have meant that high-speed rail has barely made it out of the blocks. 

Early versions of last year’s infrastructure bill included $10 billion for high-speed rail, but that was cut during negotiations. While proponents keep pushing for meaningful federal investment in a high-speed network, megaregions can also benefit from investments in existing systems—or “fast-enough rail,” as Barnett dubs it in his book Designing the Megaregion: “There are many transportation improvements that can be made incrementally to give a much better structure to the evolving megaregions.” 

Sharing Solutions in California 

The Northern California Megaregion extends across the cities of the San Francisco Bay Area, Sacramento, and the San Joaquin Valley. The region has seen a dramatic increase in commuters from inland communities like Tracy and Stockton to jobs in the Bay Area, and has some of the nation’s longest average commute times.  

James Corless heads the Sacramento Area Council of Governments, but previously worked for the Metropolitan Transportation Commission, the agency responsible for planning and financing regional transportation in the Bay Area. In the mid-2000s, he says, regional agencies began looking at the swath of cities running from the Bay Area to Sacramento as an emerging megaregion, and gave it a name that put it squarely in the ranks of places like So-Flo and Char-Lanta. “We actually coined the phrase ‘San Framento,’” Corless says. “Everybody hated it. But it got people’s attention.” 

In 2015, the Metropolitan Transportation Commission, Sacramento Area Council of Governments, and San Joaquin Council of Governments signed an MOU to create a Megaregion Working Group. Their goal: to begin tackling issues that transcended the boundaries of the 16 counties and 136 cities they collectively represented.  

It took a while for the effort to gain momentum, precisely because of the sprawling nature of the megaregion. “I kept seeing these megaregion meetings pop up on my calendar and then get canceled,” Corless says. “Because for elected officials to get together from across these 16 counties, it requires an entire day of travel.” 

The arrival of COVID, and the resulting turn toward conducting government business via Zoom, helped bridge that distance and give the effort momentum. “At first, we were struggling a little bit to find our focus,” Corless says. Gradually, though, the participating entities began asking a simple question: “Where are we stronger together?”  

Late in 2021, the Megaregion Working Group announced a list of a dozen transportation-focused projects, from highway improvements to expansion of three regional rail lines. The California high-speed rail system that’s under construction—but far from completion—doesn’t much play into the working group’s plans, Corless says. “I have no doubt that high-speed rail will be a game changer,” he says. But “if we could just get reliable medium-speed rail, we’ll take that.” 

In fact, much of the megaregional effort is more quotidian than flashy infrastructure projects. The partners are focusing on integrating their regional plans and synchronizing their long-range planning cycles. “Because so much of our travel and even our housing markets are now intertwined,” Corless says, “if we’re looking out at the next 25 years, we need to be in sync.” 

The concept of megaregions is coming of age, Corless says, in much the same way that the rise of metropolitan planning organizations helped meet new challenges in the 1960s. “Once American cities suburbanized,” he says, “you couldn’t rely on the central city to do everything. People were more mobile, economies were bigger, and the issues transcended local city and county boundaries.” 

Moving Megaregions Forward 

What will it take to push the megaregion concept—which essentially invites those metropolitan planning organizations to an even bigger table—more squarely into the public consciousness and the policy realm?  

Bob Yaro thinks one answer is the climate crisis, which could push regions to work together in new ways. “I think it takes a crisis to do anything big in this country,” Yaro says. “You read these stories about whole counties running out of water. And that’s only going to get worse. [To address] the climate issue, you need both adaptation and mitigation strategies, and those mitigation strategies probably become most efficacious at the megaregion scale.” 

The RGGI initiative in the Northeast offers one example of how that kind of collaboration can work; the current water crisis in the desert Southwest offers another. There, tough times have, somewhat paradoxically, made for closer connections. Communities and governments have looked toward their neighbors and realized that they can do more together. 

The seven U.S. states that rely on water from the Colorado River, along with Mexico, have historically had an extremely contentious relationship. Yet, while recent headlines scream about impending water catastrophe, those parties have for more than 20 years been quietly working together on agreements intended to minimize the collective damage that they might suffer. A sense of partnership, however tenuous and prone to ongoing tensions, has been supplanting longstanding parochial attitudes toward the river.  

As metro regions melt together and global challenges ramp up, a growing sense of shared fate with historically distant neighbors could help tackle all kinds of problems that might once have seemed insurmountable. 

“I think one of the things we need to do is redefine ‘home,’ and the Southwest is Exhibit A on why that needs to happen,” Yaro says. “I think it’s redefining home at this larger scale. The final boundaries are going to depend on an individual community’s sense of association with their neighbors—but the place doesn’t succeed unless we do that.” 

Matt Jenkins is a freelance writer who has contributed to the New York Times, Smithsonian, Men’s Journal, and numerous other publications. 

Lead image: The United States seen from space at night. Credit: DKosig via iStock.

Berkeley, California, might be described as a victim of its own success—a roaring innovation economy, a college town, and a hugely popular place to live, minutes from Oakland and San Francisco, but plagued by a staggering lack of affordability, rampant real estate speculation, and homelessness. 
 
When it comes to new housing development, much of the narrative in recent years has been framed in terms of two camps: those who oppose neighborhood infill development, labeled as proclaiming “not in my backyard,” and advocates of dramatically increased supply of different kinds of housing, under the banner of YIMBY—“yes in my backyard.” 
 
In an interview for the Land Matters podcast, Mayor Jesse Arreguín makes it clear he believes the more housing, the better. 

“We need to build new housing,” he said, in a recent interview at Berkeley City Hall. “What we have is a crisis that is decades in the making through deliberate actions on the part of government, through racial segregation or redlining, through fierce resistance to building housing, and through policies that have constrained the production of housing, and now we’re in a crisis. I think a crisis and emergency requires that we take emergency action. That’s why we are embracing building more housing—and we will continue to build lots more housing, because we think that is the solution to addressing our housing crisis.” 
 
Arreguín was elected mayor in 2016, becoming the first Latino to hold the office and, at 32, the youngest mayor in a century. He was reelected with over 65 percent of the vote in 2020. The son and grandson of farmworkers, Arreguín grew up in San Francisco. At nine, he helped lead efforts to name a city street after activist Cesar Chavez, beginning a lifelong commitment to social justice. 
 
After he graduated from the University of California, Berkeley, he stayed in the city, serving on numerous boards overseeing planning and zoning, and ultimately the city council. He is also now president of the Association of Bay Area Governments, which is the Bay Area’s Council of Governments and regional planning agency. 

Arreguín came into office mindful of the concerns of established residents who expressed skepticism about allowing additional height and density, but says the situation is so dire, creative solutions are in order—in keeping with the area’s reputation for innovation in the private sector. 
 
“We are looking at innovation, not just in terms of scientific research, but from a government perspective, innovation in creating public policy,” he said. “I see Berkeley as an innovation lab, a test lab for new approaches to public policy, which is why we’re really thinking intentionally about how we can create solutions to housing and homelessness, and a lot of the other challenges facing cities in 2022.” 

An edited version of the interview is available online at Land Lines magazine, as the latest installment of the Mayor’s Desk feature. 

You can listen to the show and subscribe to Land Matters on Apple Podcasts, Google Podcasts, Spotify, Stitcher, or wherever you listen to podcasts. 

Further Reading 
 
From Downtown to Single-Family Blocks, Berkeley Eyes Big Zoning Changes (Berkeleyside) 

Through the Roof: What Communities Can Do About the High Cost of Rental Housing in America (Land Lines) 

Backyard Brouhaha: Could Inclusionary Housing Break the YIMBY Deadlock? (Land Lines) 

Anthony Flint is a senior fellow at the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy, host of the Land Matters podcast, and a contributing editor of Land Lines. 

City dwellers around the world noted one surprisingly welcome side effect of the lockdown phase of the pandemic era: less noise. Urban soundscapes have largely returned to form, but that peaceful interlude served as a loud and clear reminder to planners and policy makers that the audible does shape city life—and can, in turn, be shaped by policies that include thoughtful land use and design. Inger Andersen, executive director of the United Nations Environment Programme, highlighted the issue in the Financial Times earlier this year, writing that “city planners should take both the health and environmental risks of noise pollution into account.”  

Of course, the underlying insight here is not new. Citizens have probably complained about various forms of city noise, from construction to concerts to rude neighbors, for as long as cities have existed. While a relatively quiet urban neighborhood might register an ambient level of about 50 decibels, higher levels can begin to interfere with conversation; a busy roadway can measure about 70 decibels (about equal to a vacuum cleaner), and a train crossing that road can push the decibel reading to 90 or higher.  

Studies documenting the health effects of noise pollution, which range from sleep disturbances to cognitive issues to heart disease, date back at least to the 1970s. The World Health Organization, along with regulators in the United States, Europe, and elsewhere, has highlighted the issue for decades, often spurred by a panoply of noise activists.  

“The good news is, there is much more interest today,” says Arline Bronzaft, a City University of New York professor emeritus who conducted some of the earliest studies documenting the impact of city noise on health and well-being. Trained as an environmental psychologist, Bronzaft continues to advocate for quieter built environments as a board member of the environmental nonprofit GrowNYC. Today, she says, there’s much more research, and an openness to policy experimentation. “Now that you’ve got the data,” she says, the question is becoming: “What are you doing about it?” 

The answer is a work in progress, but we may be at a pivotal moment for thinking about what might be termed “built soundscapes.” The tools available to assess the challenge have radically improved. And that may help planners and policy makers devise and enable better design and policy strategies to cope with the problem.  

Maybe the most prominent example involves the evolution of tools to measure sound, which have become more sophisticated and are being deployed in new ways. Recently, for example, authorities in Paris and other French cities have begun to experiment with “sound radar” devices meant to function like speed cameras: triggered by noise that exceeds code decibel limits, the sensors photograph the offending vehicle’s license plate and fine the owner.  

The French sensors were developed by Bruitparif, a state-backed agency devoted to studying city acoustics in Paris and elsewhere. Similar technology is being tested in New York, Edmonton, and other cities. Most cities already have some sort of noise ordinances in place, but such rules are rarely enforced in a systematic or consistent way. The advanced new sensors could help remedy that.  

Still, there’s an argument for going deeper in thinking about sound—using technology as a planning tool, not just a punitive one. Erica Walker, professor of epidemiology at the Brown University School of Public Health and founder of Brown’s Community Noise Lab, spent years creating the “2016 Greater Boston Noise Report,” mapping noise data she collected at some 400 locations around the city. The experience gave her a different perspective on soundscapes.  

“I started as pro-quiet,” Walker says. In fact, she explains with a laugh, she was partly interested in finding out whether city noise codes might help her get some loud neighbors to pipe down. Creating her noise report brought Walker into contact with a cross section of situations, teaching her that “neighborhoods and sound are complex.” Because ordinances focus almost exclusively on sound as a nuisance, they’re often incomplete or counterproductive, she explains. Since some level of sound is inevitable in a city, Walker says, considerations of how the acoustic environment affects residents and their interactions with each other should be built into planning and development: “Now I’m anti-quiet—but for peace.”  

Her Community Noise Lab project is focused on reworking the soundscape dialogue between citizens and policy makers; among other initiatives, that has included creating a free app called NoiseScore to make sound measurement an accessible, collaborative activity. City officials in Asheville, North Carolina, used the tool as part of their effort to incorporate more community feedback into revisions to the city’s noise code, which was updated in the summer of 2021. While that still boils down to crafting ordinances, it’s an example of technology broadening the discussion, rather than simply serving as an enforcement tool. “They didn’t start with: ‘We’re going to put these sensors up across the city and punish people if they are doing this or that,’” Walker says. “They wanted to understand all of the partners’ perspectives.” 

Tor Oiamo, a professor in the Department of Geography and Environmental Studies at Toronto Metropolitan University who conducted a recent public health noise study in that city, notes that more sophisticated sensors, mapping, and modeling software are creating opportunities to plan with sound in mind. In the years ahead, he says, the tools at hand could include a kind of global noise database similar to those tracking air pollution. But there’s an obvious challenge: “The difficulty in mitigation with a city that’s already built is that the structure is in many ways locked in,” he says.  

In some cases, cities have found ways to modify or add to existing infrastructure. Bronzaft’s groundbreaking research in the 1970s—she documented the negative impact of a New York subway traveling on an elevated line near a school—resulted in the installation of sound-muffling acoustic tiles in classrooms, and the use of rubber pads on tracks throughout the subway system to lessen train noise. Other train systems now use rubber tires, and the next wave of quiet mass-transit innovation includes maglev trains and electric buses.  

Oiamo also points to successful efforts in Amsterdam and Copenhagen to revise traffic patterns, with the specific goal of reducing noise in residential zones. And he credits Toronto with a thoughtful approach to its current Port Lands development project: because it’s reminiscent of a master-planned neighborhood, it’s possible to factor the soundscape into the design process. In addition, many of the most measurably useful ways to mitigate urban noise overlap with thoughtful land use: more green space and trees, careful consideration of building density (strategic density can actually create pockets of quiet), and so on.  

Land works have been used to mitigate urban noise for years, from the berms around the edges of New York’s Central Park to trees and sound barriers along highways. A more recent tech-forward iteration comes from German firm Naturawall, which has designed “plant walls”—galvanized steel frames with a relatively slim profile, filled with soil and sprouting a thick layer of foliage and flowers. The walls, currently in use in some German cities, are said to block sound levels roughly equivalent to typical city traffic. Other companies, including Michigan-based LiveWall, are undertaking similar projects around the world.  

None of these strategies offers a silver bullet. But Oiamo, like Bronzaft and Walker, emphasizes that at this point, there is plenty of expertise to draw upon to improve our built soundscapes. Newer technologies are helping define the issues with greater nuance and offering fresh solutions. While sensors helping issue tickets for noise violations may not represent the kind of holistic approach Walker or Bronzaft have in mind, they’re a start. As the subject gets more attention and technological options proliferate, soundscape experts are sensing the potential for real, if incremental, progress. “There’s a million things to do,” says Oiamo. That’s the challenge—and the opportunity.  

Rob Walker is a journalist covering design, technology, and other subjects. He is the author of The Art of Noticing. His newsletter is at robwalker.substack.com.  

Image: Sensors in Paris and other cities monitor and report noise levels from passing traffic. Credit: Courtesy of Bruitparif.

As cities and towns seek funding for transportation, parks, affordable housing, and other public goods, they often overlook one of their most valuable assets—land. A new Policy Focus Report from the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy shows how local governments make land more valuable by building infrastructure and facilitating urban development, and how they can ensure that the community reaps the benefits. 

Land value capture enables communities to recover and reinvest the land value increase that results from actions such as building new train stations or changing regulations to enable more dense development. In Land Value Capture in the United States: Funding Infrastructure and Local Government Services, author Gerald Korngold explains how the major land value capture tools work, and recommends a path forward for leaders who want to implement them. 

The Trustee Professor of Law at New York Law School, Korngold also lays out the legal precedents for different types of land value capture and recommends ways policy makers can minimize legal risks. 

“Land value capture has in various forms been used and legally upheld in the United States for some 150 years,” he writes. “It remains a valid and viable option to finance government activities, provided policy makers leverage available tools appropriately.”  

Korngold provides an in-depth analysis of seven land value capture tools—exactions, impact fees, linkage fees, special assessments, mandatory inclusionary housing, incentive zoning, and transferable development rights. He uses case studies from around the country to explain how land value capture can contribute to public policy goals such as equity and sustainability. 

For example, in the Northern Virginia suburbs of Washington, DC, commercial property owners agreed to tax themselves more than $700 million to fund a 23-mile extension of the Metrorail system to Dulles International Airport, roughly an eighth of the total cost of the project. The first section of the new line opened in 2014, and the rest is scheduled to open later this year. 

In downtown Chicago, the city grants developers permission to construct larger buildings in exchange for voluntary fees, which are calculated based on the size of each project. The city directs 80 percent of the revenue to commercial development in underserved neighborhoods, 10 percent to public improvements near each downtown project, and 10 percent to the restoration of landmarks. 

Such policies are possible because transportation infrastructure and zoning for greater density have both been shown to increase the value of land, either by providing access to jobs and amenities, or increasing the profitability of a development, as Korngold documents in the report.  

“Without land value capture, this increased land value remains exclusively in private hands despite the public actions that created it,” Korngold writes. 

 The report is intended for state and local policy makers, urban planners, economic development officials, civic leaders, lawyers, advocates, and other stakeholders. 

“Gerald Korngold provides an all-too-rare pragmatic overview of land value capture, a topic that stokes great passion from theorists and practitioners alike,” said Ian Carlton, senior economic advisor for ECONorthwest, a consulting firm that specializes in economics, finance, and planning. “He clearly explains many of the value capture options that one could implement in the U.S. context.” 

The report is available for download at no cost: https://www.lincolninst.edu/publications/policy-focus-reports/land-value-capture-in-united-states 

Will Jason is the director of communications at the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy. 

Image: The Dulles Airport Metrorail extension continues to raise funding from special assessments as the project moves through its second phase. Credit: Tom Saunders, VDOT/Flickr/CC BY-NC-ND 2.0 

Researchers and policy makers have long sought to understand how infrastructure development can stimulate economic growth, reduce poverty, and promote regional integration. Two chapters of the Lincoln Institute book we edited, Infrastructure Economics and Policy: International Perspectives, seek to advance such an understanding in ways that can inform national or regional infrastructure plans. Three other chapters examine the effectiveness of alternative approaches to promoting economic growth through regional integration. 

Infrastructure and Economic Growth 

Chapter 2, written by former Lincoln Institute President Gregory K. Ingram and Zhi Liu, senior fellow and director of the China program at the Lincoln Institute, reviews empirical studies of the relationship between infrastructure and economic growth. They report that the estimated effects of infrastructure investment on economic growth vary significantly among countries and sectors, but are generally positive. These positive effects are larger in developing countries than developed countries, and larger in electricity and telecommunications than in transportation. Studies suggest that the performance or efficiency of infrastructure is a very important determinant of its economic impacts.  

Ingram and Liu also review the empirical analyses of the short-run multiplier effects of infrastructure investment. These analyses find little to no short-term economic impact, even when the long-term economic impacts are clearly positive. The small multipliers are due in part to the substantial time required to undertake and complete construction and in part to the crowding out of private investment by government investment. While the increased public spending for infrastructure investment can help reduce unemployment by creating jobs for low-skilled workers, many of today’s construction workers are in fact highly skilled. These findings suggest that the chance for such spending to boost the economy is very limited, especially in the short run. 

Infrastructure and Poverty Reduction 

In chapter 4, authors Sameh Wahba, Somik Lall, and Hyunji Lee of the World Bank analyze the global evidence and literature on the relationship between infrastructure and poverty. They argue that the poor suffer most from a lack of access to infrastructure networks, since they must spend a disproportionately higher share of their income to secure basic services such as water or electricity from costly tankers, bottles, and batteries. While access is typically higher in urban areas than rural areas, many of the urban areas in developing countries are struggling to keep up with the infrastructure demands of rapid urbanization.  

The global evidence and literature reviewed by the authors also shows that investments and policies that promote equality in access to physical infrastructure tend to reduce income and spatial inequalities. Moreover, the effectiveness of programs targeted on the infrastructure problems of the poor depends greatly on the details of their design. It helps if an improvement to physical infrastructure is coupled with complementary social policies, such as combining slum upgrading with reforms to dysfunctional land markets, pairing isolated rural electricity systems with the expansion of local educational or business opportunities, or matching basic sanitation facilities with public health or basic water programs. Similarly, when a new infrastructure facility or service is established, it is important to include a realistic plan for funding ongoing operations and maintenance. 

Infrastructure and Regional Integration 

In chapter 15, Professor Jose Manuel Vassallo of the Polytechnic University of Madrid examines the effectiveness of European Union infrastructure programs in fostering regional integration. In theory, EU members should have a strong interest in promoting integration, since many have relatively small populations and thus would benefit from the opportunities that integration offers to develop their competitive advantages or exploit economies of scale. Toward that end, in 1992 the EU members agreed to designate a trans-European network of priority transportation projects (TEN-T), which was subsequently divided into a “core” TEN-T network and a larger “comprehensive” TEN-T network. Similar trans-European networks for energy (TEN-E) and communications (eTEN) were also established. 

However, the outcomes of the TEN-T plans are mixed. There is some evidence of increased integration, but progress is disappointingly slow, in part because the EU is essentially a federal system in which the targeted facilities are owned by member states, and their priorities for improvements are not always the same as those of the EU. The EU has had to motivate the states to improve TEN-T facilities by offering special matching grants and other financial support. The need for such financial support has effectively increased the cost of the TEN-T to the EU and made it less likely to complete the core network by the 2030 deadline. 

Japan has been more successful in using infrastructure to promote regional integration. It is the first country to use high-speed passenger rail as a tool to shape regional development. Its rail services are widely admired for their scope, reliability, and safety. In chapter 16, Professor Fumitoshi Mizutani and Professor Miwa Matsuo, both of Kobe University, analyze the factors that have contributed to the railroads’ success. Japan is almost unique in the world in relying on railroad companies that are both privately owned and vertically integrated (meaning the railroad that owns the track also operates almost all the trains that run over it). Their success is also attributed to travelers seeking alternatives to congested airports and heavy volumes of automobile traffic concentrated in a few linear corridors, in addition to their excellence in service and development of innovative business models that exploit economies of scope and internalize externalities. The railroad companies, for example, are permitted to develop ancillary activities, like shopping malls in stations, that reduce their dependence on passenger revenues but also attract more passengers. Unlike the EU, the Japanese government builds and owns its high-speed lines and leases them to operators, with the lease fees based on the expected operating profits from each line. So far, the resources gained by innovation and vertical integration seem to have helped finance the cost of extending high-speed service to less dense corridors and more remote regions. 

China is similar to Japan in its reliance on high-speed rail as an important tool for shaping national development. The two countries differ, however, in that 92 percent of Japan’s population lives in urban areas, compared to 65 percent in China. As urbanization continues, the Chinese government has adopted a strategy to promote the formation and development of 19 enormous city clusters or megalopolises, each comprising several major cities linked with high-speed rail. This strategy can be seen as an effort to create a variety of opportunities to absorb rural migrants and improve urban worker productivity by encouraging various forms of agglomeration economies. If the rail service is sufficiently fast and convenient to encourage commuting among the cluster’s cities, then it will increase the effective size of the labor pool and help workers match their skills with employers. If each major city in the cluster is large enough to support a high degree of specialization, say, in trade, high-tech manufacturing, tourism, or finance, then it can support specialized suppliers as well. 

In chapter 17, Zheng Chang, a researcher with ETH Zurich, uses a case study of the Guangdong–Hong Kong–Macau Greater Bay Area (GBA) to demonstrate how high-speed rail contributes to city cluster formation by strengthening agglomeration economies. His empirical analysis of the GBA suggests that high-speed rail enhances agglomeration effects at the cluster level, but the gain in employment for the larger cities seems to come at the expense of the small ones. It is unclear, however, whether the agglomeration benefits of the city cluster strategy actually outweigh the costs in additional rail services. Gaining a more complete understanding of the effectiveness of the strategy will require further studies using a cost-benefit analysis framework.  

Three Lessons from the Case Studies 

The three case studies from the EU, Japan, and China demonstrate different approaches to and lessons about the use of infrastructure to promote regional integration. First, the EU case suggests that it is hard to achieve central infrastructure goals under a federal system of infrastructure provision, because the priorities of the member states are often different from those of the central government. Second, although Japan is unusual in its reliance on private and vertically integrated railroads, its experience demonstrates that regional plans can be implemented successfully by private providers overseen by the central government. Japanese private passenger railroads were the source of critical innovations that helped keep down the cost of providing an extensive and expanding rail system. Third, agglomeration economies can be harnessed by using infrastructure investments to promote the formation of city clusters, as in the case of China. But this bold strategy can be risky due to the heavy investments needed. The risks can be reduced if the strategy is subject to a rigorous cost-benefit analysis. 

José A. Gómez-Ibáñez is the Derek C. Bok Professor Emeritus of Urban Planning and Public Policy at Harvard University. Zhi Liu is senior fellow and director of China Program at the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy. They are the editors of Infrastructure Economics and Policy: International Perspectives. 

Image: Shinkansen high-speed rail line, Japan. Credit: gérard via Flickr.