On a recent trip to the United States, looking out the airplane window while taking off from Tampa, Florida, I was struck by the pristine green landscape of the American suburb. Neatly organized rows of seemingly identical trees blanketed the flat terrain like a green carpet. To some, this abundance of green might look like a dream of environmentally integrated sustainability.

Nothing could be further from the truth. The American suburb, based on the outdated concept of the “garden city,” was designed to favor the automobile, low-density single-family housing, and single-use zoning. This model virtually rules out active transportation (walking or cycling) and makes mass transit—which relies on density and walkability—wholly unviable.

While studying and traveling through cities around the world, one of the most striking urban scenes I witnessed was a square in Tokyo filled with uniformed children playing during their school recess. The square had only a low fence, yet a diverse range of people (like myself) could mingle and interact among the children. Childhood independence in Japan is world-renowned and was recently depicted in the Netflix series "Old Enough," where children under six run errands outside the home alone, without their parents. While these might be ordinary scenes for a Tokyo resident, for someone with a different urban reference point, the question "how is this possible?" immediately arises, so far removed is it from the reality of most of our large cities.

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In the film Aquarius, directed by Kleber Mendonça Filho, the character Clara, played by Sônia Braga, refuses to sell her apartment—located in a condominium building—to a real estate developer. Her neighbors, on the other hand, accept the deal. In an article for Estadão, economist Pedro Fernando Nery views the case through a lens opposite to the cinematic narrative: instead of a hero resisting unscrupulous real estate capital with no respect for Recife's coastal landscape, Clara is actually the villain.

Verticalization and population density are poorly understood aspects of our cities. Contrary to popular belief, a more vertical city is not necessarily a denser one. In Brazil, favelas and semi-formal housing make up some of the densest urban areas. These consist of small dwellings built close together, often home to multiple families. Conversely, there are neighborhoods with many high-rises and few people. These buildings may be commercial, with no residents, or they may contain large apartments, small families, and expansive open space around them. Few realize that Cidade Ademar, a low-rise residential district in southern São Paulo, is twice as dense as the high-rise jungle of Itaim Bibi.

The remarkable research paper “A Long History of a Short Block,” by Bill Easterly, Laura Freschi, and Steven Pennings, analyzed the development of a block on Greene Street in New York's SoHo neighborhood over four centuries. Throughout this period, the city remained in a constant state of development, demonstrating that the question “What is the ‘original character’ of a neighborhood?” is far more difficult to answer than it seems.

To begin with, the skyscraper-filled Manhattan we know today is a relatively recent development in its history. Before the Dutch arrived in what they would call “New Amsterdam” in 1625, the region was dominated by forests and wetlands—a rich ecosystem that even included bears and wolves.

In urban planning, population density is a subject that sparks discussion, doubt, and debate. A common point of confusion, for instance, is conflating built density (the amount of built area in a given location) or even building height with population density (the number of residents in a given location).

In New York, for example, Midtown Manhattan has perhaps the city's highest concentration of skyscrapers, despite having a population density of "only" 18,000 residents/km²—less than half of the Upper West Side, which boasts 44,000 residents/km² with lower but predominantly residential buildings, whereas Midtown has fewer residential buildings. In Brazil, this discrepancy is far more extreme: the densest neighborhoods in major Brazilian cities tend to be the most horizontal, as they consist of informal settlements (favelas) with small housing units, minimal space between structures, and larger families living in (or cohabiting) these units.

Are there more homes without people than people without homes? This recurring claim had already been described as a “myth” by urban planner Nabil Bonduki in 2018, but the persistent suggestion of a simplistic formula for solving the housing crisis deserves to be addressed once again. Recently, an article in Folha de São Paulo by urban planner Alexandre Benoit suggested that the approximately 300,000 vacant properties in São Paulo could be designated to “eradicate the city’s housing deficit.”

“How much does a subway line cost?” is a question frequently asked when discussing high-capacity rapid transit solutions for Brazilian cities. However, the cost of implementing rail projects varies enormously across different global geographies.

For example, a rail line in New York costs about twenty times more per kilometer than one in Seoul, reaching a budget of $6.4 billion for a segment of just 2.6 kilometers in the second phase of the Second Avenue Subway in northern Manhattan. Geographical factors, or even the high built density of the American metropolis, are insufficient to explain such a massive disparity in construction costs.

Urban planning is a vital tool for reducing inequality and promoting equity in cities. In Brazil, prioritizing these goals is even more urgent given not only the country's deep social disparities as a whole, but also the stark divide in access to opportunities, infrastructure, and urban services—which ultimately defines true access to the city itself.

Yet, while many believe that urban inequality stems from a lack of planning—as if it were merely a product of chance—the reality is that, historically and to this day, urban planning has often exacerbated inequalities rather than mitigating them.

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In the book “Quarto de Despejo – Diário de Uma Favelada” (published in English as Child of the Dark), Carolina Maria de Jesus recounts, in poetic and dramatic everyday language, the harsh reality of life as a waste picker living in the former Canindé favela in São Paulo, which at the time had about 50,000 residents.

Published in 1960, her text is considered a milestone in Black women's writing in Brazil and has been translated into more than thirteen languages. Carolina's entries offer a unique perspective on the extremely precarious living conditions of a favela resident in late-1950s Brazil—a narrative previously ignored or simply unknown to the general public, let alone to policymakers.

Although Juscelino Kubitschek is remembered for executing the project for Brasília, he was not its creator. The political will to build a new capital in the country's interior dates back to 1808, driven by the desire to elevate Brazil's international standing and symbolize its post-independence development. This developmentalist ethos, or rather the pursuit of the new, underpinned the arguments of most advocates for the relocation, each proposing a different approach.

In 2013, the film *Her*, in which the protagonist falls in love with an operating system, sought to depict a not-so-distant future of a relatively dystopian reality. Although the city depicted was likely a futuristic Los Angeles, the filming actually took place in Shanghai. After visiting the city, I believe this was a wise decision, given the pervasive atmosphere that constantly evokes this very theme. I remember standing on a massive circular pedestrian overpass above the Mingzhu roundabout, which connects major avenues in the heart of Pudong, Shanghai's current financial district. Ahead of me, I saw the bizarre Oriental Pearl Tower, a 467-meter-tall TV tower built by a Chinese state-owned enterprise in 1994. Looking back and up at the Shanghai Tower—the second-tallest building on the planet at an impressive 632 meters—the impact was even greater. This is Shanghai's image to the world, the showcase of a new China, breaking paradigms and reaching for the sky.

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From my hotel room, it was possible to see the roofs of the Forbidden City, though only as a faint shape through the haze blanketing the landscape. Beijing (or Peking, depending on the language or spelling) is one of the most polluted cities in the world, covered by a constant smog produced not only by automobiles—which account for 70% of the city's air pollution—but also by factories, coal-fired power plants, and sandstorms from neighboring regions. It looked like a cloudy day, but in reality, there was not a single cloud in the sky.

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Hundreds of towers repeat across a hazy horizon. Traditional buildings crumble, while others have been rebuilt into tourist shops. Colorful Lamborghinis share sluggish traffic with old taxis, laborers' tricycles, and executives riding yellow bikes from Ofo, the world's largest dockless bike-sharing company. Some pedestrians wear masks to filter the polluted air, others carry shopping bags, others spit on the ground or walk the streets in pajamas. Street vendors are extremely rare, in contrast to the police and military personnel seen on almost every corner.

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Videos

One of the most engaging ways to learn about cities is through movies and series. Below, Anthony Ling from the platform Caos Planejado shares six recommendations for online series to learn about Brazilian communities, Soviet cities, and other corners of the world.

One of the main objectives of this website is to disseminate ideas that enable cities to have more affordable housing. There are several indicators that can be useful in observing and analyzing a city's housing market, such as the price-to-income ratio, which we covered in a previous article. While no single indicator is perfect, they can provide guidance regarding the scale or direction of a given real estate market.

About 14% of the population of Porto Alegre, nearly 200,000 people, live in favelas, classified by IBGE as "subnormal agglomerations." These residents typically lack guaranteed property rights and do not have access to basic public utilities and services such as sanitation, drainage networks, or street lighting. Around 4,000 people experience homelessness. The city's public transit system, which carries over 20 million passengers per month, is facing the worst crisis in its history, with unsustainable operations. Our public spaces are dominated by cars, whose drivers enjoy the privilege of parking for free on public streets. Dumpsters, which are meant to receive only organic waste and non-recyclables, end up filled with all kinds of trash, undermining proper waste collection in the city.

Cities offer opportunity, diversity, and economies of scale, which ultimately attract more residents and retroactively drive their growth. Despite decades of predictions foretelling the demise of cities due to the telephone, the internet, videoconferencing, or virtual reality, cities and face-to-face interactions continue to grow. Large urban areas continue to draw more and more people. Driven by more than just tourism, the travel industry has also grown year after year, demonstrating how much people want to be physically present where things are happening—whether for meetings, events, concerts, or simply to gather with friends and family.