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Why do some countries only have one big city?

Dave Amos flips the script on human geography by asking not why some places are empty, but why entire nations funnel their populations into a single, overwhelming capital. While standard urban studies often celebrate polycentric growth, Amos reveals a stark reality: in countries like Uruguay and Mongolia, the capital isn't just the biggest city; it is the only city that matters, dwarfing all others to the point of statistical absurdity.

The Law of the Primate City

Amos anchors his exploration in the work of Mark Jefferson, a geographer who, in an era before the United Nations or digital databases, manually compiled global population data to identify a pattern. "The first person to ask this question and then write about it was a geographer named Mark Jefferson," Amos notes, highlighting how Jefferson's 1907 "law of the primate city" sought to explain why some nations had cities that "dwarfed all other cities in its boundaries." Jefferson's methodology was rudimentary but revealing; he assigned the primate city a score of 100 and measured others as a percentage of that total. This approach exposed extreme imbalances, such as Austria in 1939, where Vienna was 100, while the next two cities were merely 8 and 6.

Why do some countries only have one big city?

The author's use of Jefferson's historical data provides a crucial baseline, showing that this isn't a modern anomaly but a persistent structural feature of many nations. Amos writes, "For each country, the primate city was given the number 100... In this way, every nation's primate city metric could be reported as those three numbers." This framing effectively strips away the noise of absolute population figures to reveal the raw power dynamics at play. Critics might argue that Jefferson's 1939 data is too dated to explain modern urbanization, yet Amos successfully bridges this gap by showing how these historical patterns still dictate current demographics.

Urban primacy was the physical embodiment of consolidated power and wealth, whereas the rural countryside was poor and powerless.

Colonial Roots and Modern Realities

Moving beyond Jefferson, Amos tackles the "why" with a compelling historical lens, linking primate cities directly to colonial extraction and the consolidation of power. He argues that in many Latin American and African nations, these cities were not organic growth centers but logistical hubs designed by colonizers to funnel resources to Europe. "Urban primacy was initiated and enforced by colonizers who used the major cities as logistical hubs for transporting goods back to Europe," Amos explains. This historical context is vital; it shifts the narrative from a simple matter of economic efficiency to one of engineered inequality.

The author points out that even after independence, local elites maintained this status quo, keeping the capital as the sole repository of wealth and culture. "After independence, local elites maintained the status of the primate city," he writes, noting that this dynamic has only recently begun to ease in places like Argentina and Peru. This is a powerful argument because it identifies a specific, actionable cause rather than a vague cultural preference. However, the piece could benefit from a deeper dive into why some post-colonial nations, like Colombia, managed to develop secondary cities like MedellĂ­n, breaking the colonial mold.

Amos also highlights the sheer scale of these imbalances in the modern era. "Sri Lanka has the most distinct primate city with Colombo being 45 times larger than the next largest city," he states, illustrating how geography and history combine to create these singular urban giants. He contrasts this with large, diverse nations like the US and China, where "large countries... have some of the lowest scores," suggesting that sheer size allows for multiple centers of gravity. This comparison helps the reader understand that primacy is often a function of scale and history, not just poor planning.

The Limits of Theory and the Future of Nature

Despite the rich historical analysis, Amos is refreshingly honest about the limitations of primate city theory in modern urban planning. He admits that while the concept is intellectually satisfying, it offers little practical guidance for city officials. "Understanding primate cities doesn't really do much for city planners working on the ground in those cities," he concedes. This admission strengthens his credibility; he isn't selling a silver bullet but rather a framework for understanding global inequality.

The piece takes a surprising turn in its conclusion, pivoting from urban geography to the conservation of wildlife. Amos argues that just as we must understand the concentration of human populations, we must also pay attention to the "flows and concentrations of wildlife." He writes, "It's fun thinking about the flows and concentrations of humans on this planet, but it's critical that we think about the flows and concentrations of wildlife on this planet, too." This connection feels slightly abrupt, yet it underscores a broader theme: the concentration of resources, whether human or natural, creates fragility.

The answer to the question, why does everyone live here, is it's complicated.

Bottom Line

Dave Amos delivers a masterclass in connecting historical colonialism to modern urban inequality, proving that the dominance of a single city is rarely accidental but often engineered. While the pivot to wildlife conservation feels slightly disconnected from the core urban analysis, the piece's greatest strength lies in its refusal to offer a simple solution to a deeply complex historical problem. Readers should watch for how emerging economies in Africa and Asia might break these colonial patterns as urbanization accelerates.

Sources

Why do some countries only have one big city?

by Dave Amos · City Beautiful · Watch video

This is Monte Vido, the capital and largest city of Uruguay. It's not just the largest metro area, it's home to 56% of the nation's population. It's also 19 times larger than the next largest city, Sto. It's clear that Monte Vido is the economic and cultural center of Uruguay, something urban geographers call a primate city.

Monte Vido is just one such city on this planet. Ulan Batar is 43% of Mongolia's population and 15 times larger than the country's next largest city. San Jose is 42% of Costa Rica's population and 37 times larger than the country's next largest city. Reevic is 54% of Iceland's population and 12 times larger than that country's next largest city.

You get the idea. Across continents, there are countries that are often defined by its major city. Why does some countries have these primate cities while others like the US, Australia, India, Canada, the Netherlands, and China do not? And are these primate cities better than the rest?

Let's answer those questions after the bike bell. This video is sort of an opposite of the geography videos you may have seen on YouTube. The ones that ask you, why does nobody live here? I think that's a really clever framing to talk about human geography, but I can't help thinking about the opposite question.

Why does seemingly everyone in some countries live in the capital city? Why not spread out more evenly? I'm definitely not the first person to ask this question. The first person to ask this question and then write about it was a geographer named Mark Jefferson.

He was teaching at Eastern Michigan University in Ipsellante and started publishing papers on cities, his first in 1907. He would make a career out of trying to understand the relationship between people, cities, and economies. But perhaps his most impactful paper was called the law of the primate city. He wondered why some countries had cities that dwarfed all other cities in its boundaries.

The question percolated throughout his career. He spent much of his time traveling around the world in an a before the internet and access to reliable comparable population statistics. He had to gather them as he traveled and later call cities one by one to assemble the data for his journal article. There was no UN population statistics to refer to because there was no UN back ...