I’m not an urbanist any more. I’ve been radicalized. The stabbing in Charlotte is not about the video, not about mental health and also not about transit. It is a painful indictment of every single urban policy that has “doubling down on failed ideas” as its preferred response. An indictment of everyone whose only solution is to throw more money at things, an indictment of activists, academics, weak policymakers, and even democracy, if we dig deep enough. Those of us who love cities see them as man’s greatest creation. This is where man has developed innovations in healthcare, science, industry, commerce, and education. We love cities and we are not willing to see them die. We’ve tolerated enough, we’ve let ourselves be shamed into coexisting with squalor in the name of compassion. But that has to end. Charlotte might be our Rubicon (or, better, our frozen Delaware🇺🇸). Alea jacta est. The word compassion has a Latin root that means shared suffering. Somewhere along the way, the fate of every city dweller became to celebrate suffering, and the Apotheosis was reached when suffering was shared. It is appealing to these high ideals that we have long justified putting ourselves in high risk of becoming a statistic. An isolated incident. An outcome of adverse socioeconomic factors. A sacrifice at the altar of progress. What is the course of action for those of us who refuse to go gentle into that good night, who have hope that kindness, beauty, and truth can speak to those who want to hear, and inspire them to create? Rage. That is the course of action. Pure, unfiltered, unadulterated Rage, against the dying of the light. Against fear taking up all our living spaces. Against squalor. Against stubbornness. Against the greatest civilization the world has ever seen dying in the hands of stupidity. Too long have our cities suffered. Too long has a twisted understanding of compassion trounced common sense. Too long have we been shamed into accepting it. Now is the time to build a new way. Forge a new path. Tread unknowns as the ancients trod, fearlessly, when they built the peace and wealth we now enjoy. The name of the Greek goddess of peace was Eirene. She was also associated with prosperity and societal harmony. Often depicted holding a cornucopia for abundance, a scepter for authority, or an olive branch for peace. In ancient Greece, Eirene was revered in times of post-war recovery, embodying the restoration of calm. The slavic form of Eirene is Iryna. Rage, rage. But build. Don’t let rage win. Don’t let them win.