Noah Smith cuts through the aesthetic noise of the housing debate with a provocative, data-driven skepticism: the idea that making buildings "prettier" will solve America's housing crisis is a distraction. While urbanists and conservatives alike clamor for Haussmann-style ornamentation to win public approval, Smith argues that the real barrier isn't ugliness—it's the fundamental design of the city itself. This piece is essential listening for anyone tired of the endless debate over cornices and facades, offering a sharp pivot toward the systemic changes that actually drive density and acceptance.
The Aesthetic Trap
Smith begins by dismantling a popular theory championed by tech investor Patrick Collison: that the "Yes In My Backyard" (YIMBY) movement has failed because it ignored the visual appeal of new apartments. Collison suggests that bland, boxy buildings are the reason people oppose density. Smith, however, points out that this framing ignores the reality of what Americans actually prefer. He notes that "regular Americans actually like the kinds of building styles that intellectuals often yearn for" is a false premise. In fact, when traditional European styles are transplanted to American cities, they are often ridiculed as "cheesy and inauthentic."
The author highlights a crucial disconnect between elite design tastes and public sentiment. "If you plunk down old-looking European-style buildings in the middle of Houston or Seattle, people tend to ridicule them as cheesy and inauthentic," Smith writes. This observation is vital because it challenges the assumption that aesthetic reform is a silver bullet for political resistance. Critics might argue that this dismisses the genuine desire for human-scale architecture, but Smith counters by citing research showing that even traditional brick facades fail to increase support for new housing.
"No one has shown that any specific set of design standards would materially improve public support for development, apart from pretty obvious stuff like 'don't put up new buildings in low-density areas that are much taller than their neighbors'."
Smith's analysis of the "QIMBY" (Quality In My Backyard) movement reveals a deeper truth: the problem isn't the lack of ornamentation, but the lack of context. He references the California YIMBY organization's own recent plan, which admits that current design standards often "assume you can 'design away' ugliness by chopping a façade into smaller pieces." This approach, Smith argues, often results in buildings that feel "fussy, not beautiful." The real issue, he suggests, is that the underlying form and materials often feel cheap or incoherent, regardless of how many decorative elements are added.
The Texas and Tokyo Models
Moving beyond aesthetics, Smith contrasts the American obsession with style against the pragmatic approaches of Texas and Japan. In Texas, where housing construction is booming, the architecture is largely "boxy and functional." The state builds these structures not because they are beautiful, but because they are "cheap and efficient" and necessary to support rapid population growth. Smith draws a parallel to Sejong City in South Korea, a recently built administrative capital that experienced rapid population growth despite its utilitarian design. The lesson is clear: "The fundamental driver of housing abundance in Texas isn't architectural beauty; it's a culture and politics that values and seeks out economic growth."
Even more compelling is Smith's comparison to Tokyo. While American intellectuals often pine for the grandeur of Paris, Smith argues that Tokyo has captured the American imagination for different reasons. "Downtown Tokyo is a forest of electric lights, strung up along the sides of stubby concrete mid-rises called zakkyo buildings," he writes. These buildings lack fancy cornices, yet the city is "absolutely enchanting." Why? Because the beauty comes from the "design of the city itself," not the individual structures.
"It's no coincidence, I think, that Japan is one of the best countries when it comes to building plenty of housing. Yes, most of its apartment buildings look like crap when evaluated in isolation on their pure architectural merits. But the urban system made up by those buildings is a wonderful place to live."
Smith's point is that the Japanese model prioritizes walkable streets, mixed-use zoning, and public safety over architectural grandeur. This stands in stark contrast to the American tendency to focus on building codes that forbid "bright cross-ventilated homes, true courtyard buildings, and mixed-use ground floors." The author argues that simply adding ornamentation to American buildings without fixing the underlying urban fabric would be a waste of resources. "Imagine Haussmanns along a giant American stroad instead of a cute walkable Paris street near a train station," Smith suggests. The result would be a marginal improvement at best, as the city would still be built around driving and lack the "cozy or lived-in" feel of a true urban environment.
The Path Forward
So, what is the solution? Smith rejects the notion of a top-down aesthetic revolution. Instead, he advocates for a gradual, organic evolution of American cities. This involves "hyperlocal control to allow neighborhoods that want to build more housing to do so as they see fit," as well as significant investments in public transit and safety. He calls for "state-level upzoning" to allow for "missing middle" housing and a simplification of zoning codes along the Japanese model. "Carry out sensible reforms like allowing single-stair buildings," he urges, noting that these changes can make smaller mid-rise buildings possible, which "fit on smaller lots, can be nestled into existing buildings, and add variety to the streetscape."
Smith's argument is that these functional reforms will eventually lead to the development of unique, local architectural styles that are more authentic than borrowed European motifs. "Over several decades, this gradual process will allow American cities to evolve into a better form," he predicts. This approach acknowledges that the path to housing abundance is not through aesthetic perfection, but through systemic reform that prioritizes efficiency, safety, and walkability.
"Ultimately, that will be cooler and more interesting than simply borrowing from old Europe."
Critics might argue that this pragmatic approach underestimates the emotional power of beauty and the role of design in fostering community pride. However, Smith's evidence suggests that without the foundational elements of a livable city, beauty alone is insufficient. The focus must remain on the systems that make density possible and desirable.
Bottom Line
Smith's strongest contribution is his refusal to let the housing debate get bogged down in superficial aesthetics, correctly identifying that the real barriers are systemic and political. His biggest vulnerability is the assumption that functional reforms alone will eventually generate the political will for density, a leap that may underestimate the deep-seated cultural resistance to change. Readers should watch for how local governments balance these functional reforms with the growing demand for more humane, well-designed urban spaces.