I had, on a recent vacation, the delightful chance to spend a morning in one of those ancient and overstuffed used book stores who seem to take pride in selling nothing since the turn of the millennium. While there I grabbed this basically on a lark – the title meant nothing to me, but Jane Jacobs is one of those figures who the entire intellectual environment I grew up in was downstream of, but who I have never actually read directly. So, in the name of becoming familiar with primary sources (and because the place had a 4 for 3 deal) I grabbed this to read in the park. It was interesting as a cultural artifact, but frankly I can see why this isn’t the work of hers anyone actually talks about.
The book is at least formally interesting. While functionally a series of essays, it is framed as a series of meandering dinner- (well, lunch-)party dialogues between different intellectual types of the same class, living in the then-contemporary New York of the 1990s. Each essay is framed as a different conversation all (in a very ‘90s-meta way) being recorded by one of the participants to eventually be cleaned up and published. This is mostly just a framing device – each chapter consists overwhelmingly of long monologues occasionally intercut with helpful followup questions or obvious strawman objections to give a springboard for further monologuing in response. The different characters ostensibly have different personalities and skills
The fundamental thesis of the book is that humans and everything we create are, axiomatically, not unnatural. And, more provocatively, that this means the same laws and principles that govern complex ecological systems can also be applied to human societies and economies (both in a descriptive and a prescriptive sense). This lens is used to present a theories of economic development and decline, with each chapter/essay being used to present and examine a different aspect of it by way of analogy to natural ecosystems.
The ecology in question is all fairly basic, except in the places where it’s clearly 30 years out of date. The economic theory is interestingly heterodox, though. It is first and foremost a cry against economic specialization and in favour of economic diversity and local interdependence. And, specifically, in favour of urban agglomeration and complexity (the book spares barely any thought at all for economic units smaller or larger than that of the city, and has a sort of implicit assumption running through it that the ideal political order would be one of independent, fiscally sovereign city-states freely trading with each other as peers).
The key to that is the idea of ‘co-development’ – that economic development is a process, not a discrete phenomenon and still yes just a certain set of goods and practices that can be imported and instituted by fiat. It’s only by combining different industries and skill sets in the same area, such that there is genuine interaction and cross-pollination between them - that the innovation and symbiosis which genuine development and evolution depends upon can occur (and the only way that the overall economy/ecosystem is dense and resilient enough to survive and adapt to a genuine disruption or shock to any one part of it).
Following this is a comparison between a desert and a rainforest – even recieving equal amounts of sunlight, and even positing some deluge provides the desert equivalent amounts of rainfall to the forest, the later ecosystem does far more with the energy received than the former. By this analogy the book pitches the basic idea of ‘import stretching’ – that the measure of a city’s development and wealth is how many times and how efficiently a given unit of imported resources can be used and how much of the city it enrich before the resources (or their products) flow outward again in exports. This, along with the creation of local industries to meet needs that previously required imports, is the essence of economic development (and the pressure created by other cities doing the same requires doing so constantly to maintain dynamic stability, a virtuous cycle of development). The failstate this is contrasted against is a one-industry factory town or (even worse) farm or mine – somewhere that can have truly eye-popping amounts of capital and raw materials flow into it, only for the absolutely overwhelming majority flow right out again with barely anything captured and stretched for use by the town itself.
This all sounds convincing enough on its own merits, though theories of specialization and comparative advantage are hardly given a fair hearing for their best arguments against it. As the argument develops, I was surprised by the strong undercurrent of economic libertarianism running through it all. Partially, it seemed, as a way of explaining how the failed Import-substitution industrialization schemes of the 20th century are totally different than the import-substation the book is talking about. But generally the book consistently sings the praises of serendipity and competition, development as something bottom-down and emergent, and generally is incredibly skeptical of any sort of planning or state intervention at any point in the process. It all feels internally consistent, and so very ‘90s, but given how left-coded Jacobs is in the popular memory, it did take me a bit by surprise.
It’s a slim, easy read – less than two hundred pages, short on intricate arguments or technical vocabulary. I finished it pretty easily in two short sittings, and it was a pleasant enough way to kill some time with both. But neither the arguments, nor (with the surprising exception of the forward) the quality of the writing ever really arrested me or struck me as really novel. Which is the curse of thirty years of imitators, I suppose (and it is pretty bleak how little the general tone of discussing the environment and how humanity is treating it has changed in that time). But yeah, it’s pretty obvious why this is not the book of Jacobs’ that anyone still talks about or cites.