
LEFT: Underfunded park maintenance at Cherry BeachRIGHT: Infill development transforms a former brownfield in Etobicoke
There are exceptions, of course: Toronto’s iconic new City Hall and Nathan Phillips Square, designed by Finnish architect Viljo Revell; Mies van der Rohe’s TD Centre; Eb Zeidler’s Eaton Centre; and some of the more recent cultural buildings by Frank Gehry, Will Alsop, Daniel Libeskind, Jack Diamond, and Kuwabara Payne McKenna Blumberg Architects. But for the most part, attempts to introduce innovative urban design have met with resistance from residents and municipal officials alike. The city’s most distinctive public spaces — its unique system of river ravines — were preserved almost entirely by accident, spared by flood plain protection rules that prohibited development after Hurricane Hazel swept through the city in 1954, killing eighty-one people and causing $100 million in damage.
“We live in a culture that undervalues the public realm,” says former city councillor Kyle Rae. “It’s a serious emotional gap.” Early in his career, he pushed the city to expropriate and demolish several derelict buildings on Yonge Street to make way for a large public square. Politicians and landowners fought the plan for years, although Rae’s vision prevailed. Today Yonge-Dundas Square, Toronto’s answer to Times Square, attracts masses of visitors and has given the city’s main street renewed verve and energy. What it hasn’t done, sadly, is change bureaucratic and political cultures that allow shabbiness and mediocrity. “Our major problem,” says Rae, “is that we have a culture of ‘no.’”
The Ontario Municipal Board, a century-old quasi-judicial body with the power to overrule municipal planning decisions, often makes matters worse. In Toronto, with its robust real estate market, the OMB has a track record of approving high-density projects with little regard for how they function at street level. Nor does it help that since amalgamation the city has nickel-and-dimed departments with mandates to protect the public realm (parks, urban design, and forestry), sometimes with ironic results. While the city spent years figuring out how to redesign trash cans, thousands of trees planted along sidewalks died from neglect. (The trees are still dying, and the trash cans are already falling apart.) Before amalgamation, tourists invariably complimented Toronto on its cleanliness. Today it’s hard to believe that the city once prided itself on its appearance, because it now seems incapable of keeping its sidewalks free of litter and its parks free of weeds. Rob Ford’s proposed budget cuts will leave Toronto looking even shabbier, while his voluble campaign to eradicate graffiti has only encouraged its youthful practitioners.
Urban planners warn that the abandonment of public spaces can have enormous unintended consequences. Left untended, assets can become liabilities. Think Central Park in the late 1970s, a deteriorating and crime-ridden place New Yorkers tended to avoid. Such not-so-benign neglect, borne of a culture of stinginess, has been a long-standing element of Toronto’s DNA. It recalls that old saying about knowing the cost of everything and the value of nothing.
The author’s opening statement for
The Walrus Toronto Project Debate
”We Are Potential” by Shary Boyle
Prepared remarks for Imagining Toronto:
A City-Builders’ Symposium
”Better Living Through Collective Leadership”
by Naki Osutei
Prepared remarks for Imagining Toronto:
A City-Builders’ Symposium
”Kingston: The Metropolis That Didn’t Happen”
by John Lorinc
A Trudeau aide recalls the never-built high-speed train that would have reshaped Central Canada
In the grand scheme of things, the cancellation of a pedestrian bridge seems like a minor event, but it reveals much about the Toronto mindset. While the city can always find money to pave roads, it balks at investing in public spaces. In the world’s great cities, residents understand that as well as improving quality of life, a vibrant public realm creates wealth and attracts investment. Yet in Toronto… well, Torontonians complain endlessly about congestion but refuse to give their political leaders the tools to do anything about it. They boast about the city’s ethnic diversity but don’t much mind if immigrants are warehoused in vertical ghettos. They aspire to live in a creative-class city with serious cultural ambitions, but only if they can pay Walmart prices.
Six decades after the beginning of its epochal postwar transformation, it’s fair to say that Toronto has become a very big city, and a somewhat accommodating city, but not a great city — at least not yet. Which is more than a little strange, because the GTA contains an abundance of talent and energy, tremendous wealth, and intimations of a distinctly Canadian cosmopolitanism. What’s lacking is the will to abandon the story Torontonians have always told themselves, which is that they can’t afford the things big cities need and crave, that they mustn’t exercise the political clout that naturally accrues to large urban regions, and that they shouldn’t manage growth in the intelligent way that the twenty-first century requires.
Toronto, in short, remains the sort of place that plans to build bridges, but then can’t bring itself to pay for them.






