The Four Horsemen of Urban Decline

A Framework for Recognizing a City's Struggles

Do you feel like your city isn't what it used to be, but you can't quite pinpoint why? Maybe it's the proliferation of "For Rent" signs, the increasingly chaotic transit system, or the aisles of the local pharmacy beginning to resemble the deposit boxes of a Swiss bank. Perhaps it's the solitary construction crane that seems visible from every neighborhood, a harbinger of stalled growth.

Post-pandemic, urban issues have become starkly visible. Many sense that their cities are faltering, but is this just a rough patch, or are deeper structural issues at play?

It's hard to believe the dreamlike reality of the pandemic began five years ago. Since then, cities have faced unprecedented challenges — environmental volatility, a once-in-a-century global health crisis, and economic and social shocks that have reshaped urban life. Some cities have adapted, finding new ways to thrive. Others, however, have lost their way, unable to keep up with shifting realities.

Cities rise, thrive, and sometimes decline. But decline isn't always obvious at first. It starts with small warning signs: delayed maintenance, endless permitting delays, a growing divide between rich and poor. Over time, these cracks widen until one day, the city itself feels unrecognizable. In cities worldwide, the pandemic widened these faults, giving the impression in many places that the decline happened all at once.

To help assess whether your city is on the right track or heading toward decline, I've developed a simple framework: The Four Horsemen of Urban Decline. Spotting one is a warning. Two means trouble. Three is a full-blown crisis. And four? Your city isn't just stagnating—it's probably actively driving people away.

I'll admit, I developed this framework partly out of exasperation. I've visited all sorts of places over the years and seen both successes and failures. But in the years after the pandemic, I've grown tired of watching the same patterns of decline repeat themselves while leaders insist everything is fine. There will always be black swan events that exacerbate issues, but these events tend to intensify bad habits, not create them. At this moment, I think we need to put a face to urban failure.

1. The Disease of Me

The first horseman gallops in wearing the gilded armor of past triumphs. I borrowed this concept from nine-time NBA champion-winning player, coach, and executive, Pat Riley, who observed that previous success often becomes the greatest obstacle to future achievement. Players focus on individual stats and contract negotiations rather than team success, and the championship chemistry dissolves. Past success can also be a city's largest immediate vulnerability.

When a place thrives for too long, it starts to feel inviolable. San Francisco in the 2010s was a prime example. The tech boom brought unimaginable wealth, businesses flourished, and optimism reigned. However, underneath, housing shortages, homelessness, overreliance on the tech industry, and a deteriorating public realm were not getting enough attention. When the pandemic hit, the city's latent fragility was exposed.

A+ cities like New York, London, Hong Kong, and Sydney can suffer from similar hubris. They pride themselves on being the greatest cities in the world, assuming people will always want to live there. However, as remote work reshapes professional life and affordability declines, that assumption is being tested.

I remember moving to New York and experiencing the Disease of Me in action. Waiting for the A train on 8th Ave and 23rd Street, I'll never forget overhearing someone amazed at how "cheap, clean, and fast" the New York subway was. At the risk of sounding snobby, I’ll say this. Yes, the NYC subway is convenient, given no other option, but no resident of Shanghai or Berlin would echo this statement I heard on that platform.

I'm describing urban solipsism, which means city leaders, businesses, and longtime residents, thinking that the way their city is is the only way it ever can be, become more focused on protecting what they have than improving for the future. That unending bullishness can lead cities to violate two fundamental fiscal principles—one from Wall Street, and one from the streets:

1. Never spend the principal

2. Don't get high on your own (housing) supply

Outside fo finances, this unchecked confidence affects a city's ability to function at every level. When leaders refuse to acknowledge that their systems are broken, they create a culture of inaction. This is especially evident when it comes to actually building something new. What happens when a city needs change but can't physically execute it?

2. Construction Constipation

Yes, it's not a pleasant image. But neither is waiting two years for a building permit.

I will save you the embarrassment of asking your doctor and tell you the medical definition of Construction Constipation : When it takes longer to get a permit than to build the actual structure.

When cities experience this kind of sclerosis, nothing gets built. Consider the permitting timelines across different cities:

Tokyo: 2 months (a mild inconvenience, but manageable)

Copenhagen: 6–8 months (frustrating, but expected bureaucracy)

New York: 12–14 months (painfully slow, bordering on absurd)

San Francisco: 24 months (soul-crushing, FML)

At a fundamental level, this bureaucratic inefficiency prevents cities from treating their own ailments through physical transformation. Construction is already a slow, arduous, risky, and costly process, so further policy-induced lag can make it actually impossible for housing and infrastructure to keep up with demand. And at today's interest rates, every unnecessary delay costs thousands, sometimes millions, in financing costs. Who pays for that? The consumer, AKA the young couple trying to buy their first home, the school district struggling to modernize classrooms, or the small business that just wants to open its doors.

On a psychological level, let's also point out that Red tape isn't just frustrating, it's enervating. When bureaucracy overtakes buildings, rules become weapons to block change rather than tools to facilitate it. If a city can't build, it can't adapt.

A clear solution? A permitting shot clock. If an application isn't processed within a set timeframe, it's automatically approved. This creates accountability and ensures that change isn't stalled by procedural ossification. Civic leadership may not be able to develop projects themselves, but applying pressure on the agencies who permit and authorize physical development is a low-hanging and common-sense maneuver that would be politically popular.

But when change is resisted, the consequences ripple across the entire economic structure, not just stopping at development. If a city can't build housing, infrastructure, or active spaces fast enough, wealth becomes further concentrated among those with access, while those without resources are left behind. This is how the third horseman arrives.

3. High Capital Contrast

Behold a figure split in two, one side draped in luxury, the other in destitution.

A city where extreme wealth and poverty exist in stark, unavoidable proximity is a warning sign of urban distress. When economic inequality so clearly fails the eye test, it leads to demoralizing bewilderment that grows over time, I call this high capital contrast.

Take San Francisco's Mid-Market district, home to the now-abandoned Twitter headquarters and amenity-filled apartments catering to high-earning tech workers. Just steps away, as goes the old real estate refrain, open-air drug markets thrive in the Tenderloin. Let’s call this the Twitterloin effect or the visceral collision of extreme wealth and extreme poverty that is impossible to ignore.

This phenomenon isn't unique to San Francisco and is particularly acute on the American West Coast. Visible imbalance breeds resentment, social instability, and the sense that something is fundamentally broken. You also see this dynamic in developing contexts, like the super-tall mansions of Indian elites overlooking sprawling slums or the famous image of luxury Paulistan condos built directly adjacent to a favela.

Paraisopolis, São Paulo by Johnny Miller, from Unequal Scenes

High capital contrast is also a sign of inefficiency. The 'E' word has become divisive of late, thanks to the disruptive antics of DOGE, but efficiency remains a goal worth striving for in almost any context. The ability to do more with less allows cities to reinvest saved resources—whether money, time, or political capital—into other priorities. The more reinvestment can occur, the more benefits can compound.

Wealth inequality is not inherently the issue, but rather, stark, jarring disparity is. Cities will always have contrasts, economic class being one of them, but when that contrast becomes too extreme, it shifts from coexisting with different kinds of people to merely enduring their proximity. Cities should not normalize this condition. To respond, they must actively work toward abundance, ensuring that opportunities and resources grow rather than resigning themselves to managing extremes. Furthermore, the image of such high capital contrast yields a childishly naive yet fundamental question. What kind of place is this? A city caught in this contradiction struggles to establish a clear vision, setting the stage for the final horseman—an identity crisis.

4. Identity Crisis

A city without a clear vision is doomed to drift. This is the identity crisis—when a place no longer knows what it stands for or where it's going.

Many cities today talk out of both sides of their municipal mouths:

"We need more housing!" they proclaim while making it impossible to build any.

"We embrace innovation!" they declare while fighting every change to the status quo.

"We want economic growth!" they insist while taxing businesses into exodus.

A city must evolve while maintaining its core essence. Last week, I discussed how cities should approach their Density Appetite, recognizing it as a defining factor in shaping their urban identity. A great city knows what it is and where it's headed. This involves being both physically conservative and progressive, striking a balance between progress and preservation. A declining city waffles between conflicting interests, paralyzed by indecision and nostalgia. This is where strong and effective leadership really matters and the cities I worry about most are those where leaders can't articulate a clear vision beyond vague platitudes.

The most confident cities build upon what has worked while adapting their identity to suit the current moment. Some of the most enduring places thrive in contradiction—London is both old and new, Hong Kong is both East and West, and Rio embraces both mountains and beaches. Rather than suffering from an identity crisis, these cities find strength in their dichotomy.

How do you test for a lack of identity? Poll a diverse group of people and ask them what the city should be. Some variation in responses is natural—even healthy—but when the answers are wildly discordant, it signals deeper uncertainty. A city with no clear sense of itself struggles to act decisively, leading to inertia, conflicting policies, and an inability to adapt to change. Without a unifying vision, progress stalls, and stagnation takes hold.

Recognizing the Signs—and Reversing Course

Cities don't die by accident. They decline through neglect, denial, and a failure of imagination. Recognizing these four horsemen isn't about giving in to despair—it's about diagnosing the illness before it's too late. Cities are not static; they are living organisms that can heal and become stronger. Some places and their inhabitants will deny these problems until they are irredeemable. Others will rise to the challenge, making bold changes to ensure their relevance and resilience. The most dynamic cities will take control of their future rather than become victims of it.

So, how does your city stack up? Are people working to fix it, or are they making excuses? This framework is designed to be accessible to anyone, combining sentiment, anecdotes, and data to provide a clear picture of urban health.

I encourage everyone to start conversations about what's happening in their own cities and in those they visit or admire from afar. Pay attention to the patterns. How many horsemen have arrived? Set a quarterly check-in—track changes, notice trends, and discuss solutions. Cities don't fix themselves. The difference between decline and renaissance is whether people recognize the signs early enough—and choose to act.