As the TikTok ban in America dominates headlines, it’s been interesting to see the various reactions and opinions emerging. While I’m not qualified enough to provide any in-depth socio-political analysis of the ban’s implications, as an active user of social media and a wanna-be anthropologist, I wanted to share my musings about TikTok’s impact on social behaviours and culture. As a built environment nerd, I’ve been particularly interested in exploring what this means for cities and places.

TikTok has always stood out to me for many reasons:

• The democratisation of content creation and ease of virality

  TikTok is quite literally built different. Unlike Instagram, where content reach is largely restricted to your followers, anyone anywhere in the world can post content that can potentially reach millions of global users on TikTok - if the algorithm works in their favour. By prioritising interest signals over social connections, TikTok has lowered barriers to information, visibility, and earning potential. But like everything internet-related, it's a double-edged sword. While this democratisation feels empowering, it demands more critical consumption from audiences, especially in an age of AI-generated content and rising mis/disinformation.

• It might just be the ultimate super app

  TikTok is not like the other girls 💅🏾 You can do almost anything on the app these days. Looking for a new pair of trousers or a Cloud Shaped Raindrop Aroma Diffuser? TikTok Shop has got you covered (#TikTokMadeMeBuyIt). Job hunting? The corporate girlies are there for you with their CV/interview tips and day-in-the-life videos. Planning a holiday? Skip Google and head over to the clock app for the ultimate city guide (more on this later).

• TikTok as a digital microcosm of society

  The platform has evolved into its own digital ecosystem, complete with distinct subcultures (#BookTok, #CottageCore), social hierarchies (influencers vs regular users), and even its own language that spills into real-world conversations (my personal favourite: “I was today years old when I learned…”). Like any society, TikTok has its trends, politics and ever-evolving social dynamics. What I’ve found most fascinating is how these digital behaviours and cultural norms don't just stay contained within the app - they seep into our everyday lives and physical spaces.

Which brings us to what I really want to talk about: how digital culture is re-shaping the way we experience cities.

I’m well aware this is a very complex topic which could easily form the basis of a PhD thesis. So in this piece, I focus on two key ways I think social media is shaping urban experiences, drawing on my observations as a Londoner.

1 - Content Creation in Public Spaces: The Public-Private Paradox

The rise of content creation on platforms like TikTok has turned many public spaces into stages for digital content, which creates interesting dynamics in terms of how different people experience cities. While public spaces have always been public, it’s fair to argue that social media has fundamentally changed what it means to exist comfortably in these spaces. Whether it’s restaurants, public transport, or iconic landmarks, any location can become the backdrop for content creation, with everyone else in that space becoming involuntary background characters. I’ve experienced this first hand on the Tube after a long day at work, standing behind two girls filming a ‘Tube Girl’ style lip-syncing video. For days after, I lived in fear of being immortalised as a grumpy Londoner in the background of a viral TikTok.

Another interesting observation has been how this behaviour affects businesses and service providers in cities - especially small businesses that have grown because of digital marketing and user-generated content. I’ve noticed a few online posts or physical signs in-store where businesses ask customers not to film their staff’s faces without permission. The responses to these boundaries have been mixed. While some people argue that businesses should be grateful for the free publicity and increased sales that come with (viral) social media content, others recognise the deeper issue around consent and the right to privacy.

This trend raises broader questions about how freely we can exist in public spaces without the fear that any moment or action could become content. Yes, these are public spaces, but there’s a difference between being seen by passing strangers and potentially being viewed by millions online. Another question emerges: how do we balance the freedom to film content in public spaces (especially given content creation is now a well-paying job for many people) with everyone else’s right to privacy and comfort?

2 - TikTok Famous Places: Transforming Hidden Gems into Viral Destinations

In recent years, there has been a growing trend of certain attractions, restaurants, public spaces, and even entire cities becoming ‘TikTok famous’, often resulting in high interest from local residents and visitors alike. This has been an interesting trend to observe because it can bring many benefits (and pressures) for both businesses and cities. In London, it’s becoming increasingly common for long-standing, unassuming establishments to suddenly go viral after content creators make videos about their experience there. Trusting the recommendations, their followers are influenced to try it for themselves. This trend has led to a growing call to ‘gatekeep’ certain places, to avoid the overwhelming TikTok popularity that might compromise the experience for locals.

This phenomenon of TikTok fame highlights how digital media and culture can shape our perception and use/exploration of urban spaces. For example, a local restaurant becoming TikTok famous could mean that long-time local customers struggle to simply walk in for dinner, and must book weeks in advance because of the surge in visitors coming from outside the locality or wider city. The ‘right to the city’ debate - who gets to access, use, and shape urban spaces - comes to mind as I consider this, but I think I’ll save that for the PhD thesis 😉

Back to my earlier point about TikTok being the place to go for travel recommendations — there are millions of ‘10 things to do in [insert city here]’ that many people use to shape their perception of a city before they’ve visited, or to determine how they will interact with the places and spaces within that city. This can have its pros and cons given the democratised nature of content creation on platforms like TikTok, whereby people are free to express their realities (but also to amplify false realities).

So what does this mean for cities?

In some ways, the widespread accessibility and use of social media tips the balance of power in terms of who gets the tools and opportunities to shape narratives that inform our collective understanding of a place. The growth and impact of platforms like TikTok gives us plenty of reason to trust that these stories and their telling can have tangible impacts for people and places, though the effects may vary in scope and permanence. In a growing attention economy, a compelling 15-second video of a small town can generate more interest and completely change how that town is discovered, understood, and experienced. The democratisation of place representation we’re witnessing could also create interesting dynamics between major cities and secondary cities, fundamentally challenging traditional urban hierarchies and place marketing strategies.

Professor Franklin presented her research on the sensor location and spatial inequality dilemma, using Newcastle upon Tyne's air quality sensor network as a case study to explore the trade-offs imposed on decision-makers.

Some interesting takeaways for me:

1️⃣ Sensor coverage and place politics

This was my first introduction to the concept of 'sensor deserts' - areas of a city where sensor technology is not present, resulting in a lack of data and knowledge about those areas. This raises important questions: what or who are we observing, and why? When considering sensor deserts, it's important to ask which demographic sub-groups are being disregarded, and conversely, who is privileged enough to avoid environmental or behavioural monitoring?

2️⃣ Smart city technologies and equity

Professor Franklin emphasised that sensors are infrastructure and therefore carry the same challenges, from cost to maintenance to issues of equity. There is always the risk that smart city technologies may privilege some places, people and activities over others. As city designers, we have a responsibility to minimise (spatial) inequities and deliver better outcomes for as many people as possible. For me, this was another reminder of the importance of diversity in the built environment industry!

3️⃣ Adopting technical processes for sensor network design

Before deploying sensors, it's important to carefully consider the purpose and intended outcomes of a sensor network. This can help us avoid biases in the design of networks, carefully considering the spatial distribution of sensors and ensuring our design decisions are informed by a good understanding of the trade-offs involved in prioritising certain demographics or objectives. Professor Franklin advocates optimisation algorithms as a tool to navigate these complexities and work towards more equitable outcomes.

Read more about this here: Optimizing for Equity: Sensor Coverage, Networks, and the Responsive City | Caitlin Robinson, Rachel S. Franklin & Jack Roberts (2022)

Overall, it was a brilliant discussion and I left feeling inspired and determined to continue asking tough questions and working towards creating more equitable cities!

On Monday 6th November 2023, I joined Future of London for the City Makers' Forum event on 'Activating Innovation in the Built Environment'. These events aim to bring together a diverse group of current and future place leaders to discuss and develop a holistic understanding of urban challenges.

In this article, I share some key takeaways from the event.

We often refer to the challenges today's cities and places are facing as 'wicked problems' - complex, interconnected challenges which can sometimes seem impossible to solve, making the job of urban planners, designers, policy-makers et al. quite difficult. From climate change and social/environmental inequalities, to funding constraints, rising costs of living and public health... the list goes on. On top of that, digitalisation and emerging technologies are set to completely transform the way we live, work and play in cities.

We're now at a point where we need to radically re-think how we plan, design and build cities and places - and we can't afford to get it wrong. For me, this means adopting more innovative and inclusive approaches to urban development and placemaking.

At the Future of London event, we heard from a brilliant line-up of speakers about how we can harness data and technology, together with open, cross-disciplinary and collaborative ecosystems, to design and deliver people-centred solutions to the wicked problems cities and places are facing.

Here are my top three takeaways:

1️⃣ Sometimes innovation happens on the frontline, not in boardrooms.

We don’t always need to come up with a new flashy idea or product. Sometimes the answer (or parts of it) might already exist, it might be simpler, or it lies with the communities we’re working to serve. We just need to be willing to challenge the accepted and expand our thinking to find the right solution(s). A key part of this is directly engaging and co-designing solutions with the people who deal with the realities of the challenges we're addressing.

2️⃣ Diversity of thought is key.

Bringing together diverse thinkers can only enrich the innovation process. It's important to engage and collaborate with people from different cultural/ethnic backgrounds, of different ages, and with varied lived experiences, or professional/educational experiences.

Sometimes, the problems we're tackling may have been poorly defined, resulting in no improvements or unintended outcomes. Embracing diversity of thought will encourage us to keep asking the right questions and challenging any biases.

3️⃣ We need to break down silos.

I know, I know… we hear/say this all the time, but it really is important. We need to continue fostering better collaboration between the public and private sectors, third sectors, and innovators. This could entail:

• creating a portfolio of solutions that address multiple problems, rather than focusing on an individual solution;

• driving systems change for genuine and sustained impact; and

• creating open innovation ecosystems where people can fail safely and share learnings to unlock further innovation.

As one of the speakers rightly pointed out, innovation is messy. It's not a straightforward, linear process; it's an inherently iterative process that never really stops. In the context of cities, it becomes increasingly difficult as the challenges we face as a society continue to evolve. However, the more we collaborate, ask the difficult questions, and challenge the norms, the closer we can get to building a more inclusive and sustainable world.

Nestled amongst the patchwork streetscape of Dalston’s bustling Kingsland High Street, Dixy is everything you expect from a typical chicken shop: four tables, a three-star hygiene rating, two bossmen and a mountain of fried chicken. The story of its parent franchise is archetypal of any fried chicken chain in London: founded by South Asian immigrants in the 80s and built on the cornerstone of providing cheap, halal alternatives to the products of globalised fast-food corporations.

As we sit inside, a pair of £3.50 meals between us, we hear the successive conversations with Bossman, each varying both in length and levels of playful familiarity. Elderly couples set up camp in the same spot where they’ve come for years, while mums with pushchairs feed their babies tiny chunks of chicken amongst clusters of black and brown school kids.

Traditional chicken shops like Dixy have long been the target of criticism from the government. From child obesity to knife crime, fried chicken regularly finds itself at the centre of controversy surrounding many a social ill. Sadiq Khan has been vocal about tackling the issue of obesity in London, showing particular concern for the health of young Londoners. The Mayor views stemming the greasy tide of chicken shops as a key move in this fight. A ban on new hot food takeaways within 400 metres of London schools is just one of several measures implanted into the London Plan that he hopes will act as barriers to hold back the burgeoning surge of fried poultry.

His rationale holds water. Fundamentally, chicken shops are fast food taken to its logical extreme; the pursuit of speed over healthiness distilled to its purest form. Health agencies point to chicken shops as being responsible for the exceptionally high child obesity rates in London boroughs including Hackney (where child obesity rates lie at over 40%)1. But outside the pages of government documents, the reality is that chicken shops and similar fast food outlets are often the only options some people have. Parents in low-income households and night-workers don’t always have the time and money to buy or cook healthier meals. “You’ve got mums working two jobs, looking after three or four kids with absent fathers,”2 says Stacey-Ann, Dalston resident and one of the older customers in Dixy. “It’s a struggle. Some kids have to fend for themselves.” she laments.

However, this is just one factor fuelling London’s idiosyncratic chicken shop culture. Chicken shops aren’t just a source of cheap food; they also act as social hubs for young people. By 4pm, Dixy is packed with school kids debating philosophical matters such as the difference between melted cheese and cheese sauce. Amongst the after-school rush is a group from a local school. They sit huddled around the table, their uniforms a study in navy and grey. The most vocal of the boys is Isaiah. “The school lunch doesn’t even taste nice. I just save my money so I can go to Dixy with my mates”.3

With the ripples of austerity manifesting in the form of government cuts to youth centres, teenagers like Isaiah have fewer places to spend free time outside the tiled walls of chicken shops. Unfortunately, the cash flow brought by the rapidly materializing luxury towers and trendy coffee shops tends to elude the pockets of deprivation dotted across Dalston. While the government wages a war against chicken shops, it fails to provide alternative spaces for Dalston’s youth to feel safe and fulfilled.

To some, chicken shops are the only things keeping many young people out of the clutches of opportunistic gangs on the hunt for fresh meat. At-risk children escaping unstable, deprived homes often turn to chicken shops as safe havens. However, a govern­ment inquiry suggests that in the comfort of chicken shops, lured in with the promise of free chicken, many end up falling into the beckoning hands of those same waiting gangs. This practice of chicken shop grooming, combined with rising knife crime, prompted the government to implement its #knifefree chicken box campaign. In August 2019, boxes printed with anti-knife crime messages were rolled out in chicken shops across the country, including London staples like Morley’s, Chicken Cottage and, of course, Dixy. However, the gov­ernment’s initiative sparked controversy, swiftly being dubbed as racist.

Clearly, lectures from chicken boxes alone aren’t going to cure London’s crime ailment. The cuts to youth services are just the tip of the iceberg. Other deep-rooted socio-economic issues lie at the heart of the problem. These include the Coalition government’s scrapping of the Education Maintenance Allowance scheme in England, growing exclusion rates in schools, a country-wide housing crisis exacerbated by gentrification, mental health issues among BAME children, and system­atic racism4. Stacey-Ann has a simpler explanation: “Those kids, they’ve got the devil in them.”

At the other end of Kingsland Road, sandwiched between corner shops and vast social housing complexes, lies Chick’n’Sours. This establishment prides itself on its use of ethically sourced, free-range, Asian fusion fried chicken. Their chickens come from a small farm in Yorkshire, raised on a diet of over 10 herbs and fresh salad leaves. Evidently, these are very privileged chickens. However, healthy fried chicken is somewhat of an oxymoron, and eating it is an oddly disconcerting experience.

Chick’n’Sours is just one of many similarly trendy enterprises sprouting up in every nook and cranny of Dalston. It is a prime example of food gentrification whereby culturally important and traditionally inexpen­sive foods become fashionable and unaffordable, spiralling out of the reach of low-income communities. It’s apparent that Chick’n’Sours are trying to cater to a wide customer base with several options on the menu suitable for their ‘vegan and flexi­tarian friends’. Yet one notable omission is halal chicken: an interesting oversight given Dalston’s sizeable Muslim population. But this isn’t the only form of exclusion occurring at Chick’n’Sours.

If you took a £2 coin to Dixy you’d walk out with a portion of chips and some change. If you walked into Chick’n’Sours with a £2 coin you’d walk back out with the same coin because, firstly, nothing on the menu is that cheap, and secondly, they won’t accept your coin, as they’re a cashless business. This social and financial exclusion undoubtedly contributes to the overwhelmingly homogenous customer base of young white professionals that we find inside. The room is brimming with freelancers snacking on fried chicken with blueberry hoisin sauce; the intellectual discussions of cheese sauce a distant memory. Instead, the air is oozing with talk of architecture drawings and finance.

In this territory, the middle-aged Pakistani bossmen are worryingly absent, replaced with youthful, British chefs and waiters. Cardboard boxes and plastic forks make way for embellished ceramic plates and hefty steel cutlery, and on this end of the road, a meal will set you back around £18. Of course, it comes as no surprise that Chick‘n’Sours has frequently been a contender for the best chicken shop in London in lists curated by the likes of GQ and Timeout, being hailed as “the greatest gift from the god of fried chicken” - a claim we, and no doubt Isaiah, would dispute.

The contrast between Dixy and Chick’n’Sours exposes the social division within Dalston; yet their coexistence reflects how gentrification has also led to local residents and wealthier newcomers going about their daily lives in their respective social bubbles. Dixy challenges the assumed and seemingly ubiquitous trend of newer establishments replacing traditional, local shops. Throughout our time in Dixy, the door barely rested on its hinges, with a steady stream of customers flowing in and out at all hours.

This highlights a key factor that allows Dixy to resist the pressures of gentrification. Dixy plays a twofold social role, first as a source of affordable food and then a safe space for Dalston’s most vulnerable. When combined with the prevalent social housing in the area providing an established customer base for which Chick’n’Sours would not even be an option, it’s clear there will always be a need for Dixy. The chicken shop has been elevated to the level of a community institution. Meanwhile, well-meaning yet naïve outsiders working for not-for-profits are trying to spread the gospel of cheap, healthier food to London’s youth through subsidised food vans. For now though, Bossman has little to worry about, because these poorly-conceived benevolent crusades eventually unravel as many vans overlook the need for halal products.

With chicken shops growing in number across London, while almost every other type of high street shop has been seeing more closures than openings, Dixy is just a microcosm. It may not be unreasonable to speculate that, with its limited social value, lack of a strong foundation in the community, and reliance on potentially short-lived societal trends, Chick’n’Sours may invert expectations of gentrification and disappear before Dixy ever budges.

In Dalston, they’re trying to scrub away the grease, but it just won’t come off.

Recently, I discovered the People’s Park in Korogocho, Nairobi - a community-led green zone along the Nairobi River that has catalysed the transformation of one of the city’s largest informal settlements. But where did it all begin? 

The People’s Park was previously a dumping site and crime hotspot in Korogocho. In 2017, as part of the Korogocho Slum Upgrading Programme, young people in Korogocho were employed to work on the development of a bridge between Dandora and Korogocho. Prior to this, Korogocho's youth often engaged in criminal activity as a way to make a living. This lifestyle proved to be very dangerous as many lost friends to mob justice, police brutality and gun crime. The bridge was completed in 2018 and after this, many young people feared they would be forced to return to crime to survive. Thankfully, three locals, Mzee Muchina, Dredrick Okinda and Christopher Waithaka, decided to mobilise the youth of Korogocho to form a youth-led volunteer group called Komb Green Solutions. Since the completion of the People’s Park, there has been a reduction in crime in Korogocho and local residents now have access to greenery, cleaner air, and a safe space - particularly for women and children.

What we can learn from the People’s Park

The People’s Park is a testament to the power of community mobilisation and the importance of community participation (especially of young people) in slum upgrading initiatives across Africa. Projects like the People’s Park offer a range of social and environmental benefits including improved quality of life, an increased sense of safety and security, reduced air pollution, and the promotion of social interaction across different demographics. There is also educational value to be gained through the creation and maintenance of urban parks - particularly related to environmentalism and sustainability. Most importantly, initiatives like the People’s Park present a strong case for pushing the creation and preservation of green spaces further up the agenda in slum upgrading initiatives and urban development in African cities.

Despite their importance, there are various barriers hampering the preservation of green spaces in African cities. For example, in Kampala, Uganda, urban parks make up approx. 0.04% of the land area, revealing how the government and private landowners do not prioritise the retention and creation of green spaces. In South African cities, the legacy of apartheid is reflected in the unequal distribution of green spaces across race and income geographies. This is referred to as ‘green apartheid’ - a phenomenon that affects 96% of South African cities. Aside from the entrenched socio-political and economic inequalities that are prevalent in some African cities, there are a number of other factors that hinder the development of urban parks in Africa. These include inadequate legislation, development pressures, budget constraints, competing demands for other services, and a lack of awareness about the importance of recreational spaces. Moreover, despite their value, urban parks are also the spaces in which crime, substance abuse and environmental harm, such as illegal waste dumping, occur. Therefore, it is not enough to simply provide these spaces; proper maintenance is equally important to ensure that everyone, especially vulnerable groups, can feel safe in these spaces and enjoy all the benefits.

But it’s not all bleak. Projects like the People’s Park and many others being developed in African cities prove that it is possible to create change with the right tools and the political will. Here’s to hoping that the success of these projects sparks a bigger movement to preserve green spaces and develop more urban parks in African cities, thereby transforming urban livelihoods and building community resilience.

Some interesting resources:

• Korogocho Streetscapes: Documenting the Role and Potentials of Streets in Citywide Slum Upgrading

• ‘Green apartheid in my city’ interactive simulation

• Urban parks, urban futures: Insights from Africa [webinar]

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The car played an important role in reshaping modern cities and offered a degree of freedom to people (as long as you could afford one).

There is no conversation about urbanisation or industrialisation that does not involve transportation. Transport plays a key role in the distribution of socio-economic benefits and can either make society fairer or increase economic disparity.

From access to services and opportunities to mobility, transportation systems are at the heart of cities, affecting how a city functions and how people live.

We see this relationship clearly in the twentieth century as the use of cars increased with the suburbanisation of jobs and changing family structures – women simultaneously managed domestic duties and paid employment. People had more activities and commitments, leading to a greater need for mobility.

For those who could afford cars, the dispersed distribution of jobs may not have posed major issues; whereas non-drivers and individuals from lower-income groups may have been at a disadvantage.

Transport equity

There is an interplay between urban form and transportation; and this relationship underpins one strategic approach to achieving transport equity: high density and mixed land use.

Density plays a key role in determining the levels of transit use, and mixed land use has the potential to encourage walking and cycling. So, by combining these two factors, cities can become more efficient, sustainable and equitable through more compact urban design. Compact urban environments contribute to transport equity and help address some of the negative social outcomes of motorisation by ensuring that cars are not a necessity.

For example, Stockholm’s high-density satellite centres are based on a policy that focuses urban development around stations on the rapid transit system. Satellite centres (think Vällingby) are designed based on planning principles like (a) locating workplaces and shops closer to homes to minimise the distances, and (b) linking centres through a network of bicycle and foot facilities. This way, you encourage walking/cycling and reduce the reliance on cars, ultimately offering people more convenient, environmentally-friendly transportation methods. It also supports the global sustainability agenda. 👍 ♻️

Cars and social justice

If you look hard enough, you will be able to draw lines between popular inventions or cultural norms and social (in)justice. Cars are not exempt.

In the 20th Century, the car was a status symbol. Having one suggested that families or individuals were able to afford luxuries. Car ownership had an impact on a family’s social status, and it is possible that the lack of a car could have excluded lower-income groups from accessing the same opportunities as their middle-class counterparts.

Although the car became a technological reality in the 20th Century, ownership was restricted to a small minority due to its price. However, mass production later on resulted in lower prices and greater accessibility to a greater percentage of the American population.

“Transport disadvantage is not equally distributed throughout society, but follows the well-established lines of structural social inequality” – Kerry Hamilton and Linda Jenkins

In the context of mobility and accessibility, people who suffer the most from structural inequalities (e.g. racism and poverty) tend to be at greater disadvantage. Research in the US shows that there is a mutual causal relationship between transportation deprivation and poverty simply because poorer people cannot access employment opportunities due to the inadequate transport facilities in their local areas. And yet, they are unable to overcome these deficiencies because of their limited income. For example, car ownership rates for black people are lower than those of white people in deprived neighbourhoods; thereby making black people more reliant on inefficient public transport systems. Moreover, the racial discrimination faced in the housing market could influence where people live.

Participatory and inclusive policy-making 

Over the years, it has become clearer that we need planning that is not dependent on cars, and these changes should centre the unique needs of communities in different cities. When cars became popular, public transit services (e.g. rail and bus transport) seemed less desirable because they did not offer the same level of freedom and flexibility. This is why better investment in bus and rail systems is important.

To address these issues of social inequity, cities must shift from automobile dependency to the diversification of transport systems. This ensures that the needs of disadvantaged groups are met and it helps cities work towards achieving transport equity. 

Curitiba is a good example of a city that has implemented a good cost-effective BRT system, which now acts as a model for other cities.

BRT systems tend to incorporate the high-quality performance of rail transit with the low-cost nature of traditional bus services. Through its affordable fares and inclusive design (which considers people with disabilities), the system clearly pursues transport equity and makes room for the important social aspects of transportation. 

Curitiba’s system enables urban growth to occur in a linear way, along designated corridors. High-density development occurs closer to the main BRT corridor, with a combination of commercial, business and residential use. Further outwards, there is low-density development, consisting mainly of residential land use. The high-density urban form with mixed land use is in close proximity to the BRT corridor because this attracts greater transit use. As a result of this BRT system, the city has seen a shift away from automobile travel towards commuting by bus. 

To illustrate this point, by 2005, about 1.3 million passengers were served by the buses and roughly 80% of city commuters used the bus services. One of the most successful aspects of Curitiba’s BRT is its affordability, as citizens spend about 10% of their income on travel, which is below the national average and therefore a more viable option for lower-income groups.

What’s the rub?

While transport equity is desirable in theory, it is often difficult to achieve in practice for various reasons. Firstly, there are challenges with operationalising concepts such as ‘social justice’ and ‘transport equity’ because of the various definitions and factors to consider. Thus, without a universal understanding of these concepts, levels of social justice and transport equity will vary because all cities face unique circumstances which shape their needs and priorities.

Secondly, the applicability of strategies and the openness to pursue transport equity pose issues. On one hand, what might be successful for one city may not be adequate for another, based on factors such as levels of development, capacities, and priorities. For instance, developing cities may have to prioritise more urgent needs such as the provision of sanitation, healthcare or education over equitable transport planning. Consequently, when assessing the practicality and applicability of strategies, it is important to view each city independently rather than blindly imposing models that have proved successful in other cities.

Moreover, perceptions of the car as a symbol of prosperity may lead to the neglect of infrastructure investment and enabling policies. Some developing cities, like Lagos and Jakarta, have been unable to deliver highly effective BRT services as seen in Curitiba, because of political pressures to maintain the status quo.

Sometimes, the biggest obstacle to transit equity is political rather than financial or technical.

Where do we go from here?

When discussing transport equity, it is important to acknowledge the difference between equality of opportunity and equality of outcome. Equality of opportunity is about providing all people with the same means to access opportunities, whereas equality of outcome is concerned with the extent to which, all things being equal, people end up in the same position.

Placing this in the context of transportation, it is one thing to provide diverse transport modes to access jobs in the city centre; whether people will actually find employment is a different issue determined by individual and external structural factors.

Where transport equity has been sought because all members of society have access to job opportunities, they may not all experience the same socio-economic gains. This tension highlights the overall complexity of transport equity and shows that transport planning must fully integrate itself with other social factors if policies aim to achieve social equity, as seen in Curitiba. 

Ultimately, cars changed the nature of cities since the 1900s, and while transport equity is not easy to achieve, it is important for policymakers around the world to rethink priorities and adopt more comprehensive transport policies in order to enhance the overall livability of cities and minimise any adverse effects on social justice.

Interesting resources:

• Transport and inequality: An evidence review for the Department for Transport (.pdf)

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Photo credit: Phil Hauser on Unsplash

I’m Fola Olaleye, a built environment specialist and Senior Smart Places Consultant at Jacobs. I work at the intersection of technology and urban development to create more liveable, inclusive, and sustainable cities.

Through this platform, I aim to share insights and perspectives that bridge the gap between urban planning, technology, and innovation. My goal is to reach like-minded individuals who are excited about the future of cities and the role technology plays in shaping them.

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