The Future of Cities: Building Communities That Actually Work

What if cities could be more like gardens you cultivate over time? Devon Zuegel's approach to urban planning might just change everything.

Key Takeaways

• Cities function as platforms that determine what's possible in your life, much like how iPhone APIs shape what developers can create
• The best urban environments are multigenerational spaces where kids can roam freely while having access to expert knowledge from adults
• Building successful communities requires a "ladder of commitment" - starting small and growing organically rather than expecting massive upfront investment
• Tokyo proves that 38 million people can live together peacefully with thoughtful design, while Paris shows how mid-rise development beats towers-in-the-park
• Remote work is reshaping where people can live, allowing values beyond job location to drive housing decisions
• Current regulations often prevent us from building the neighborhoods people actually want to live in, like Manhattan's beloved West Village

Computing as Gardens: A New Metaphor for Urban Development

Here's something that might sound weird at first - Devon Zuegel thinks about both computers and cities like gardens. Not in some abstract, flowery way, but in a very practical sense that changes how you approach building both.

When she describes her computing environment, she talks about notes that "accrete over time and turn into knowledge" rather than staying as scattered fragments. Some projects start as random 2 AM thoughts that get a small addition three years later, slowly growing into something meaningful. The key insight? This process requires active cultivation - you've got to pull the weeds and organize things, or your whole system turns into an unproductive jungle.

• The garden metaphor emphasizes patient, long-term cultivation rather than quick fixes or dramatic overhauls
• Just like gardens need regular weeding, computing environments need removal of unproductive elements to prevent them from taking over
• Ideas and projects can grow organically over years when given the right environment and occasional attention
• The parallel to cities becomes clear when you realize both require ongoing maintenance and thoughtful curation to flourish

This approach directly challenges the typical Silicon Valley mindset of rapid scaling and disruption. Instead, Zuegel advocates for something much more patient and organic. When you think about it, the best neighborhoods weren't built overnight - they evolved slowly, with each generation adding their own improvements while preserving what worked.

The really interesting part is how this connects to her work with Edge Esmeralda, her experimental month-long village in Healdsburg. She's essentially treating community building like tending a garden - creating conditions for organic growth rather than trying to force some predetermined outcome.

Cities as Platforms: Why Your Location Shapes Everything

Zuegel has this brilliant way of explaining why cities matter so much. She uses the platform metaphor - cities are like the iPhone's operating system, providing the APIs that determine what developers (residents) can actually build with their lives.

Think about it this way: until the iPhone had GPS, Uber literally couldn't exist. The infrastructure had to be there first. Cities work the same way. If your electricity is unreliable, you're probably not developing the next amazing technology. But give people a great transportation system, and suddenly the possibilities for who they can meet and what opportunities they can access become endless.

• Cities define the boundaries of what's possible in your life through their infrastructure and design choices
• Network effects make cities more valuable as they grow - more nodes mean exponentially more potential connections
• Young people gravitate toward cities because they offer the full range of human possibility and the deepest dating markets
• Countries like Japan, France, and Argentina benefit from having dominant cities where talent concentrates, unlike the US's more distributed model

The network aspect is particularly fascinating. Classic network theory tells us that value grows exponentially with each new node added. In cities, this plays out through increased opportunities to find jobs you love, meet your future spouse, or discover ideas that change your life's trajectory.

What's interesting about the US is how we've broken this pattern. Instead of having one obviously dominant city like Tokyo, Paris, or Buenos Aires, we've got this fragmented system where film people go to LA, tech people go to San Francisco, finance people go to New York. This creates what Zuegel calls "disjointed networks" - you might advance your career, but you're pulled away from family and old friends.

Countries with dominant cities actually solve this problem better. In Argentina, her husband's home country, people can stay close to their families while still accessing the best opportunities because everything concentrates in Buenos Aires. It's a different model that preserves intergenerational relationships without sacrificing professional growth.

The Oxford Model: Designing Cities for Agency and Independence

When Zuegel thinks about ideal cities, she keeps coming back to the Oxford depicted in The Golden Compass - not because it's magical, but because of how it's designed for childhood agency and independence.

Picture this: a young girl running around streets completely unsupervised, escaping over rooftops, playing elaborate games with her friends. But here's the crucial part - she also has access to professors who occasionally "grab her off the street" to teach her about physics or theology. It's an environment that supports both complete independence and expert guidance.

• The pre-car environment means an 8-year-old can roam freely without parents worrying about traffic accidents
• Children form their own societies and hierarchies, developing social skills and leadership naturally
• Expert knowledge is readily available but not forced - professors share wisdom when the moment feels right
• The physical design of narrow streets and connected rooftops actually enables this kind of childhood adventure

This isn't just nostalgic fantasy - it's a design philosophy. Zuegel grew up experiencing something similar at Chautauqua in upstate New York, where she could run around freely while also attending lectures by people like Jane Goodall. The combination of safety, independence, and intellectual stimulation created an environment where kids develop both confidence and curiosity.

Modern American cities have largely abandoned this model. We've prioritized car traffic flow over pedestrian safety, age-segregated our communities, and created environments where children need constant adult supervision. But places like Tokyo prove it's still possible - even in a metropolis of 38 million people, you can walk one street off the main thoroughfares and hear your own footsteps.

The lesson isn't that we need to go backward, but that we need to be much more intentional about designing for human flourishing at every age. When cities work well, they don't just house people - they actively cultivate better versions of who we could become.

Edge Esmeralda: Prototyping the Future Through Experimentation

The really cool thing about Zuegel's approach is that she's not just theorizing about better cities - she's actually building and testing them. Edge Esmeralda, her month-long experimental village in Healdsburg, represents what she calls a "giant time share presentation" for the kind of permanent community she wants to create.

The concept emerged from a simple question her husband asked while visiting Chautauqua: "Why aren't there more places like this?" It stopped her in her tracks because she'd never really examined what made Chautauqua special or considered whether it could be replicated elsewhere.

• The experiment attracts 1,000 people over a month, creating a truly multigenerational community where three or four generations of families participate together
• Programming ranges from adult-only deep technical discussions to family-friendly science experiments with biodegradable balloons
• Events are scattered throughout town along "Serendipity Lane" (the bike path) to encourage chance encounters while providing escape routes for alone time
• The month-long format allows for iteration and improvement - things that go wrong early in the month can be fixed and refined

One of Zuegel's biggest concerns was whether including families would ruin the intellectual intensity of the community. Previous events she'd hosted were high-octane affairs focused on innovation and technical topics. Would screaming two-year-olds destroy a presentation about gene editing?

The solution was elegant: instead of cramming everything into an intense three-day weekend, they spread programming across a full month. This created space for both adults-only expert-level discussions and integrated family activities. Community dinners run from 5 to 8 PM so kids can attend without missing bedtime. Science experiments engage both children and adults at their respective levels.

The results exceeded expectations. Adults told her they appreciated having options - they could choose high-intensity technical sessions when they wanted depth, or family-integrated activities when they wanted broader community connection. It turns out you don't have to choose between intellectual rigor and family inclusion when you design thoughtfully for both.

The Ladder of Commitment: How Great Communities Actually Form

Here's where Zuegel's approach gets really smart. Instead of asking people to make a massive leap of faith by moving somewhere permanently, she's created what she calls a "ladder of commitment" - a series of increasingly deeper ways to engage with the community vision.

Chautauqua itself started this way 150 years ago. A group of Unitarian Sunday school teachers decided to go camping together for two weeks, sharing ideas and teaching each other. They had such a good time that they returned the next year, then started bringing friends. Eventually, people built little shacks because they figured they'd be back anyway. Over decades, it evolved into a full town with proper homes and infrastructure.

• There was never a single moment requiring a huge leap of faith - the community grew organically through repeated positive experiences
• People could test the lifestyle before committing, reducing the risk of making a bad decision
• The gradual approach allowed the community to evolve and improve based on what actually worked rather than theoretical ideals
• Multiple generations could participate at different levels of commitment, creating natural succession planning

This model is particularly important for the kind of community Zuegel wants to build because moving somewhere new is one of life's biggest decisions. Your environment shapes everything about your daily experience, opportunities, and relationships. Asking someone to bet their entire life on an untested community is unreasonable.

Edge Esmeralda serves as the first rung on this ladder. People can experience the lifestyle for a month, get to know potential neighbors, and understand the community's values before making bigger commitments. Some might decide to buy a second home in the eventual permanent village. Others might make it their primary residence. But everyone gets to make informed decisions based on actual experience rather than marketing materials.

The approach also benefits Zuegel as the community builder. Even though she learned tons from studying Chautauqua, there are important differences in target audience and geography. Watching what works and what doesn't during Edge Esmeralda directly informs the design of the permanent village.

Technology's Role: Faster Feedback Loops and Human-Scale Solutions

When it comes to technology's impact on cities, Zuegel focuses less on flashy innovations and more on solving fundamental structural problems. The biggest issue? Feedback loops in city building are insanely long.

Getting a single building built in San Francisco can take a decade. Imagine trying to learn to ride a bicycle if you only got to practice for five minutes once every ten years - you'd never improve, and by the time you got your next chance, you'd have forgotten everything from your previous attempt.

• Construction alone often takes years, but permitting and approval processes stretch timelines even further
• Long feedback loops mean cities get built based on assumptions from a decade ago rather than current needs and knowledge
• By the time we learn what works and what doesn't, it's too late to apply those lessons to current projects

Faster construction methods like 3D printing could dramatically accelerate the learning process

One of the people at Edge Esmeralda, Nick Foley, builds beautiful 3D printed structures and is creating solar A-frames on site - basically teepee-shaped structures with solar panels instead of wooden walls. Zuegel watched them go from zero to completed building in just one week, with attendees able to camp in them immediately.

This kind of rapid iteration could revolutionize how we think about urban development. Instead of betting everything on theoretical designs that take years to test, we could build quickly, learn fast, and iterate based on real user feedback.

Remote work plays a crucial role too, though Zuegel and the host disagree about its trajectory. She believes remote work will continue growing, both in terms of how many people do it and how intensively they do it. This fundamentally changes the calculus for where people can live.

Historically, people chose locations primarily based on job opportunities. Now, a growing demographic can prioritize other values - community, natural beauty, cost of living, family proximity - without sacrificing economic opportunity. The internet provides many of the network effects that previously required physical proximity, from finding jobs to meeting potential romantic partners.

Design Philosophy: Lessons from Tokyo, Paris, and Policy Failures

Zuegel's critique of American urban planning gets pretty specific, and it's eye-opening when you realize how many seemingly minor decisions shape our daily lives. Take road width - she argues most American roads are way too wide for no good reason. Each individual road might only be a few extra feet, but multiply that across an entire city and suddenly everything is spread out, less walkable, and more expensive to build.

Tokyo offers a masterclass in density done right. With 38 million people in the metropolitan area, you'd expect chaos and noise. Instead, walk one street off the main thoroughfares and you can hear your own footsteps. They've figured out how to live close together while maintaining livability and peace.

• Japanese urban design prioritizes human scale and livability even at massive population densities
• Narrow streets and mid-rise buildings create more intimate, walkable neighborhoods than towers-in-the-park models
• Paris demonstrates how mid-rise development can achieve higher density than San Francisco while remaining one of the world's most beloved cities
• Most Parisian buildings are six to eight stories, creating great street life and community feel

Paris provides another excellent model. It's three times more population-dense than San Francisco, meaning it uses much less land per person, yet it's probably the most beloved city in the world. Very few buildings exceed eight stories, most are around six, and the result is amazing street life and a strong sense of community.

The towers-in-the-park model that the AI-generated story about Nova Confluence described represents everything Zuegel thinks we should avoid. These developments feature tall buildings surrounded by large green spaces that look impressive on maps but don't actually get used or loved by residents. The buildings themselves are designed to be photographed for magazines rather than lived in comfortably.

Singapore implements this model heavily, and while Zuegel admires the country in many ways, she finds the urban design lacking. Residents spend too much time in elevators, the green spaces feel sterile and unused, and the overall experience prioritizes visual impact over daily livability.

Policy plays a huge role in these outcomes, often in counterintuitive ways. California's Environmental Quality Act (CEQA) was designed to protect the environment but actually encourages sprawl. The law only kicks in for development projects above a certain size, which sounds reasonable until you realize it discourages dense, clustered development in favor of scattered single-family homes that consume way more land.

Many American cities face similar policy contradictions. The places people love most - like Manhattan's West Village - would be illegal to build today under current regulations. Fire departments require turning radiuses for their trucks that force wider streets and more dispersed buildings, but they could simply buy smaller trucks instead.

Environmental Realism: Density as Conservation

Zuegel's environmental perspective is refreshingly honest and might ruffle some feathers. She points out that many environmentally conscious people drive Subarus to their cabins in Tahoe, enjoying nature while requiring significant infrastructure that's actually harmful to the woods they're trying to experience.

Living in Manhattan your entire life actually results in a much smaller carbon footprint than the cabin-in-the-woods lifestyle, even though the latter feels more "natural." It's a classic case where our intuitions about environmental impact don't match reality.

• Dispersed development requires more roads, utilities, and infrastructure per person than dense urban living
• The "cabin in the woods" lifestyle requires cutting down trees and building roads that fragment natural habitats
• Dense urban living allows more land to remain truly wild by concentrating human impact in smaller areas
• Current environmental regulations often accidentally encourage sprawl rather than conservation-friendly density

The broader principle is that using less land through thoughtful design is one of the most powerful environmental strategies available. Instead of trying to make every development project "green" in isolation, we should focus on designing communities that minimize total land use while maximizing quality of life.

This connects back to the garden metaphor - the goal isn't to make every part of the city look like nature, but to create concentrated human habitats that leave more space for actual nature to thrive undisturbed.

Learning from California Forever and the Path Forward

When discussing California Forever, the proposed new city project, Zuegel's enthusiasm is palpable. As someone born and raised in California who's spent her career thinking about urban development, she sees it as potentially "the first real city in 100 years in the United States."

Her excitement isn't just about the specific project but what it represents - a willingness to think big about creating fundamentally better places to live rather than just tweaking existing systems around the margins.

The conversation reveals how starved we are for genuine innovation in city building. Most development focuses on individual buildings or small modifications to existing neighborhoods. The idea of creating an entirely new city from scratch, designed around human flourishing rather than legacy constraints, feels almost revolutionary.

What makes this particularly significant is the regulatory environment. Getting approval for anything substantial in California is notoriously difficult, which is why Zuegel is starting with a smaller village-scale project for her own community. But if California Forever can navigate the approval process for a full city, it could provide a template for others to follow.

The key insight is that we don't have to accept the status quo. Many aspects of how we build cities that feel inevitable are actually just choices we've made - often bad choices that we can unmake with sufficient will and creativity.

Looking at cities around the world proves that better approaches are possible. Tokyo's peaceful density, Paris's beloved mid-rise neighborhoods, Buenos Aires's family-preserving concentration of opportunity - these aren't theoretical ideals but functioning realities that demonstrate what's achievable with thoughtful design.

The first step toward better cities might simply be recognizing that improvement is possible. As Zuegel puts it, often "the biggest constraint to those possibilities is ourselves" and the limiting beliefs we've internalized about what cities can be.

When you've grown up experiencing something like Chautauqua, the idea that communities can be simultaneously intellectually stimulating, multigenerational, and personally fulfilling doesn't seem utopian - it seems obvious. The challenge is scaling that insight and helping others see what's possible when we design places around human flourishing rather than just economic efficiency or regulatory compliance.

The future of cities isn't about flying cars or smart sensors - it's about remembering how to build places where people can live fully human lives surrounded by community, opportunity, and beauty. That future is entirely within our reach if we're willing to cultivate it like the garden it could become.