Who are the urban villagers?

San Jose’s General Plan is the urbanist’s Field of Dreams. They’ve told themselves, “If we plan it, they will come.” But will they? Long-time SJ community volunteer and local history enthusiast Tobin Gilman explores the assumptions underpinning this key planning question in an Opp Now exclusive. Gilman, actively engaged in city planning and zoning policy, recently relocated to Virginia but maintains deep roots in his hometown. To receive daily updates of new Opp Now stories, click here.

San Jose’s General Plan, originally adopted in 2011, is based on an assumption that 400,000 more people will be here by 2040. The plan anticipates these newcomers will be concentrated in 60 or so walkable and bicycle-friendly mixed use “urban villages” featuring high density housing units near major transit corridors. (This dramatic population increase will undoubtedly impact the quality of life for current residents. State and local urban planners consider this a feature, not a bug.)

The plan hinges on two big unknowns. What economic and occupational drivers will draw 400,000 more people to San Jose, and will they be willing to live in attached dwelling units within densely populated multi-family housing developments? 

The history of growth in San Jose and the greater Santa Clara Valley is rooted in producing tangible products. In the mid 19th century, San Jose’s initial industrial growth engine was spawned by mining mercury, the rare earth metal that fueled the California Gold Rush. At the same time, the valley’s bountiful agricultural production was feeding millions around the globe to such an extent that the region became known as “The Valley of Heart’s Delight.” Thousands worked in our orchards, fields, and canneries. 

By the mid 20th century, manufacturers such as IBM, FMC, General Electric, and nearby Lockheed were drawing thousands more to the city. In the 1970s, the semiconductor and micro computer industries were born. Companies like Fairchild, AMD, Intel, Apple, and Sun Microsystems brought more people to the city. In the ‘80s, the city council branded San Jose as “the capital of Silicon Valley.”  

By the 90s, as manufacturing became increasingly outsourced to far away countries where labor was cheap, software became the growth engine. The engine was supercharged by the birth of the Internet. Intellectual property replaced tangible goods. Cal, Stanford, San Jose State and local community colleges provided a strong base of young skilled workers. High paying jobs, great weather, and proximity to beaches and mountains attracted even more talent from all over the world. 

With a population density that’s now reached 5,359 people per square mile, the city’s quaint, calm suburban feel has been disrupted. Over the last ten years, real estate prices have soared from extreme levels to insane levels. Homeless encampments are proliferating in every council district. Property crimes are now so common and the police department is so understaffed that people have stopped bothering to report burglaries and auto break-ins. It came as no surprise to current residents when the 2020 census showed the city’s population shrinking for the first time in its history. The place is becoming both unaffordable and undesirable. 

And then came Covid. And Zoom. And the “cloud office.” Legions of local white collar workers no longer commute to cookie-cutter office buildings. They work from their homes. In Austin. Boise. Miami. Aspen. Tahoe. Bozeman. Places where they can afford spacious detached homes with offices to work in and yards to play in.

It’s no wonder that the “rack ‘em and stack ‘em” philosophy of San Jose’s General Plan isn’t drawing much interest from developers. Only 14 of the roughly 60 designated urban villages have approved plans. There are many reasons why that’s unlikely to change, but as we look to the future, a big reason is that a large percentage of skilled workers prefer single family detached houses. The American Dream of a house with a white picket fence is timeless. Apartments, condos, and attached townhouses in crowded urban settings are fine for some, particularly young people, but they’re not suitable for everyone. 

The General Plan was developed with extensive community input, thoroughly vetted, and seemed entirely logical when it was adopted over a decade ago. It was widely perceived and sold as a plan that would “build up in the city core” with minimal impact on the outlying suburbs where most residents live. Few citizens studied the details of where these villages would be located or how they would materialize. And no one envisioned a statewide ban on single family zoning. 

But it’s become painfully obvious that the General Plan is out of date, unrealistic, and demonstrably unworkable. And yet the urbanists downtown and in Sacramento press forward with their Field of Dreams philosophy, telling each other that “if we plan it, they will come.”

It’s time for San Jose politicians to acknowledge the disconnects between the vision of urban planners, seismic demographic and economic shifts, real estate market reality, and growing discontent among current residents. It’s time for San Jose to join the other California cities that are pushing back on mandatory housing quotas being handed down from Mt. Sacramento. And it’s time to refocus on fixing the city’s jobs-to-housing imbalance that not too long ago was the highest priority. 

As we envision the San Jose of 2040 and ponder these urban villages (that some have aptly dubbed “Weinervilles” in a nod to the California state senator best known for championing statewide densification), the questions that have never been asked can no longer be ignored. 

Who are tomorrow’s urban villagers? Why will they come here? What will their occupations be? And what kind of homes will they want?

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