VIEWPOINT - CUDC Quarterly 2:3/4 - Fall 2002

The Perils of the Creative Class
Ruth Durack
Director, Urban Design Center of Northeast Ohio

We’ve been hearing a lot lately about the "creative class" and correlations between the economic health of a region and its "creativity index". This index is one of a cluster of new measures –including the innovation, gay, bohemian, talent and melting pot indices – developed by Richard Florida, a professor of regional economic development at Carnegie-Mellon in Pittsburgh, whose book, The Rise of the Creative Class, is the hottest new title on the state of our cities.

Florida’s creative class is made up of people in science and engineering, architecture and design, education, arts, music and entertainment, and creative professionals in business, finance, law, health care and related fields. They are well educated and earn 75 percent more than the "working class" and over twice as much as the "service class"; they work 50 to 60 hours a week and are motivated by challenge rather than pay; they value individuality, self-expression, diversity and merit; they care about food, exercise a lot, don’t like to talk about money and frequently choose quality of life over corporate position or compensation in deciding where to live. Actually, with the exception of a tendency to in-conspicuous consumption, they sound awfully like what we used to call "yuppies" in the 1980s. 
And not surprisingly, the cities that were yuppie havens in the 1980s – San Francisco, San Diego, Boston, Seattle, New York – all turn out to rank in the top 10 on the Florida index of creativity. Cleveland, by the way, ranks 44th among the 268 regions studied; below Columbus (33rd), but above Cincinnati (52nd), Pittsburgh (57th) and Youngstown, which almost falls off the scale at 239th.

Florida’s thesis is that with creativity playing an increasingly dominant role in the new economy, the places that prosper will be those that attract concentrations of creative people. This idea derives from the observation that high tech companies now tend to locate where there is creative talent, rather than people moving to where the jobs are, as was the pattern through the 1900s. And the data certainly appear to support his proposition. Academics, no doubt, will argue about the validity of his measures and whether the new locational trend represents a "fundamental shift in the structure of the economy," as Florida claims, or just a recognition that the raw materials of the new economy are ideas and innovation, rather than coal and iron ore. But irrespective of the rigor of his science, Florida has produced a compelling argument for the importance of place in attracting creative people, and hence the value of urban design in economic development.

Recently, he presented his message at city hall during the second Arts Summit. Looking every bit the archetypal creative classman in his sharp black suit and Florida (the state) tan, he was entertaining, passionate, persuasive and received with resounding approval. I couldn’t help wondering, however, how much of our enthusiasm was just because the guest soloist was happy to sing along with the choir. After all, the council chamber that afternoon was packed with Cleveland’s creative class, who had gathered to lobby for increased support for artists and the arts.

And I couldn’t help remembering all the reasons that I chose to leave San Francisco, the hands down winner on the creativity index. The City-on-the-Bay is certainly a delightful place to visit, but living there is a far cry from the tourist’s experience. For a start, with a median home price of $514,000 (in 1995), finding an affordable place to live is a humbling exercise in lowering housing standards. But beyond the practical challenges, the hardest part of living in San Francisco is suffering its creative class, which has matured to an almost laughable caricature of diversity and hedonism. Tolerance, for example, has been so firmly embraced that even the most offensive behavior or ill-informed opinion is accepted with equanimity and a staunch refusal to argue or criticize. On the other hand, anyone without a therapist or a personal trainer is regarded as depraved, or at least deprived, and failing to participate in the pervasive fetish over food is an unforgiveable sin. It is not uncommon, for example, for the entire conversation at a dinner party to revolve around the relative merits of California artichokes from the Marin County market and imported ones from Chile that have a distinctly "woodier texture". Having no opinion on the matter is considered a clear indication of philistinism, and to point out the paradox in environmentally conscious people driving 35 miles to Marin County to get artichokes – however superior their texture – is simply crass.

But this wasn’t supposed to be about poking fun at San Francisco. My point is only that the creative class is not without its warts, and there could be a price to pay for living in a cool city that is much more painful than a crippling mortgage. Although Cleveland certainly could do with a better selection of artichokes, let’s make sure we’re working on the things that really count towards a superior quality of life before we get diverted by the superficial preoccupations of a self-consciously "creative" elite. After all, the most appealing characteristic of this glittering group is its interest in "real experience"– in authenticity – so we must resist the tempation to manufacture "cool" in our battle to attract (and retain) innovators and entrepeneurs.