On Twitter last week, I had an interesting, friendly argument about 15-minute cities and the conspiracy theories surrounding the idea. I’ll be writing further about the argument and unpacking the disagreements I think were at stake but here I want to focus on language.

That social media exchange got me thinking about how we use a lot of words to describe what are really very old and time-tested concepts, and sort of imply that they’re newfangled (if you don’t like them) or innovative (if you do).

There certainly are some top-down types in urban planning, and some of the “against” sentiment is driven by a dislike of that top-down approach. But I think a lot of “against” feelings are based on the unfamiliar language a lot of us use. This isn’t my first time making this point, but it’s a key point. What we call things and how we describe them is a key chokepoint in making urbanism—natural, historic, really deeply human stuff—feel relatable.

I’m talking about these kinds of words: single-stair reform, upzone/upzoning, exclusionary zoning, mixed-use, 15-minute city, walkshed, sneckdown, desire path. I could go on. What the hell do any of these words mean? I’ve chatted with folks who don’t even know what “market-rate” means: I guess the idea that the price has a specific name seems kind of weird, kind of precious or out-of-touch. “Income-restricted,” or whatever term of art we use for “housing for poorer people,” is another instance where we sometimes use wonky-sounding terms. Various terms of art for homeless people often pop up in urbanist discourse, and they can be similarly weird or off-putting. Has any human being except a policy analyst of some stripe ever said the words “unhoused person experiencing a mental health crisis?”...