The Poetry And History Of Cities
Far from a soulless commercial center, the city is the most intense expression of humanity around
“Culture is the art of growing things” — GK Chesterton
It’s hard to describe modern cities as “historic,” or bearing the sort of history conservatives can love. When we think history, we think of places preserved by neglect, or by a deliberate effort to protect from modern civilization: The small towns and parks, the archaeological sites and museums, the architecture and picture-perfect places so beloved of sight-seers.
The history of cities is for tourists and school children. See the sites of the past before returning to enjoy the present. It’s something to be indulged in for a bit, not part of who we are or what we pass on to future generations.
Or so we think.
Properly understood, cities are the true essence of humanity, constructed from layers of human effort, like links in a chain going back generations. Go to small towns and you will connect with nature. But go to cities, and you will become part of the great chain of humanity. Every stone you see, every building, will tell you a part of that story.
GK Chesterton, a stalwart defenders of cities, put it best:
This realization of the poetry of London is not a small thing. A city is, properly speaking, more poetic even than a countryside, for while Nature is a chaos of unconscious forces, a city is a chaos of conscious ones. The crest of the flower or the pattern of the lichen may or may not be significant symbols.
“But there is no stone in the street and no brick in the wall that is not actually a deliberate symbol — a message from some man, as much as if it were a telegram or a post-card. The narrowest street possesses, in every crook and twist of its intention, the soul of the man who built it, perhaps long in his grave. Every brick has as human a hieroglyph as if it were a graven brick of Babylon; every late on the roof is as educational a document as if it were a slate covered with addition and subtraction sums.
History in Every Corner
All this has meaning beyond the literary flourish of a Paul Simon song. It means that far from being a soulless graveyard where the spirit goes to die, cities are enormous reservoirs of humanity waiting to be tapped. They are not just a boon for “thin” conservatives interested in economic flourishing. They are a gold mine for the “thick” conservative who desires a true sense of place and connection.
From the apartment buildings to the stores, from the identity of streets and neighborhoods to squares and fairs, from kids playing in the park to old timers sitting around on benches, even the most boring city contains human stories and traditions waiting to be learned, cultivated, grown.
This point is particularly vital for conservatives. Years of media impressions of the city as nothing more than a tourist spot or a superficially cosmopolitan mishmash have made us lose sight of their roots and potential.
Yes, traditions and communities work differently in cities than in small towns. They change more rapidly, and they involve far more interaction and challenges from the outside. Cities are almost always diverse, which means whatever tradition you cultivate will never be as “pure” as a small town’s.
But that’s a strength.
A Place to Cultivate Heritage
The scale and resources of the city can bring enormous benefit. Witness the size of parades, the hum of religious study, the vast libraries, the audiences at the theater, the crowd at the games, or the people packing restaurants, bars, and coffee shops.
It’s no accident so many great places of learning, worship, interaction, and dialogue throughout history were in cities. Whatever it is we wish to preserve and cultivate — whether it be families or culture, tradition or art, religion or games — it’s a good bet many others have ideas we can use. We are, after all, but one link in a chain of a city that has seen our kind pass through since its founding.
It’s true that in cities some traditions may fade. Others will be assimilated beyond recognition. But the best of them will become part of the layers of poetry — part of the tradition of the ever changing yet somehow never changing landscape of that magnet of human community we call the city.
Traditions and communities formed and forged in the city are the sort that can expand and prosper outward. Small towns need cities as a source of replenishment no less than cities need small towns that keep some ideas safe from the churn.
Cities maximize human choice and potential. You can be a tourist, or a “been here, done that” cosmopolitan. You can be someone who wishes to improve their material lot while enjoying the music and restaurants.
But you can also take full advantage of what cities offer to create and cultivate, leaving an imprint that lasts long after the latest fad has passed. You can take your place as a link in the chain.
