What does this town have to do to become a “world city”?

Image: NASA/public domain.

People love ranking stuff. Over the years, a variety of organisations and academics have had their say on which cities are the best in the world under a variety of criteria: which cities are the most liveable, say, or the most friendly to millionaires.

The ultimate accolade, though, the gold standard of city rankings, is to become a “world city”: important not just to a country or region, but to the entire globe. No one really cares what happens in Exeter (except, perhaps, the residents of Exeter); everyone cares what happens in New York.

The characteristics required to qualify for this label are simple enough: it’s all about (sorry, this is a horrible word) “connectedness”. To be a world city, you need good transport networks to tie you into the world economy: that means a major international airport, possibly several, and ideally your own docks. You need your own, home grown media and communications industries. And your city should also be full of high-value jobs in international corporations, mainly in the services, finance and media industries. The presence of government and cultural centres helps, too.

If you have all those things then you probably have an economically powerful, international-looking, multicultural population and, congratulations, you are a world city.

But identifying these characteristics is one thing; turning them into a single, definitive ranking is quite another. Most authorities agree that New York and London should top the list. But as you move down the league table, things become a bit murkier. How do Tokyo and Beijing fare against Madrid or Toronto? How do we decide which cities should be relegated, like an under-performing football team, to some lesser division? And how can a city rise up through the ranks?

Below is a chart comparing four of the most recent sets of rankings (some have only been released once, or come out every few years, hence the earlier dates).  These four feature quite different criteria, taking in factors including politics, economics, and culture. But, despite some variation, there’s a lot of agreement over which cities come out on top:

All four lists, you’ll notice, are dominated by the same handful of cities (although a few others, such as Seoul and LA, make one appearance each as wildcards). The implication is that strong performance on some criteria leads to strong performance on the others: when a city becomes a global destination for finance, say, it’s more likely to become a cultural hub too. In jargon-speak, this is known as the “aggregation effect”: New York, London and other big-hitters are so important that people flock to them and so stay important.

So what criteria do these different lists use to rank their cities? Here’s CityMetric’s brief guide to the major rankings.

 

In 1998, some brains from the Globalisation and World Cities (GaWC) think-tank tried to decide, once and for all, how cities should be ranked. As part of something grandly titled “The World According to GaWC”, they graded cities by their activity in four different service sectors: accountancy, advertising, banking/finance and law.

Cities were divided into categories, ranging from “Alpha++”, down through Beta and Gamma, before finally reaching “sufficiency level” (cities which don’t quite qualify as global cities, but do at least have some influence).

The elite Alpha++ category has always been exclusively co-occupied by New York and London. The others, though, are more volatile, and in 2008, Shanghai and Beijing both jumped up into Alpha+, skipping an entire category (they were way down in Alpha- in 2004’s rankings).  

These photos of Shanghai’s financial district, Pudong give some clue as to why:

Pudong in 2000. Image: public domain.

Pudong in 2013. Image: PierreSalim at Wikimedia Commons.

We would include a picture of the skyline in 1990, but it’s just marshland and some low-rise apartment blocks.

Those new skyscrapers in the bottom picture are filled with the offices of international corporations: HSBC and IBM both occupy entire buildings and the one that looks like a bottle opener houses the new Shanghai World Financial Center. All this services-led development equates to big tickmarks in the GaWC’s book.

It’s a similar, if less dramatic, story in Beijing. The People’s Bank of China, the country’s central bank, has its headquarters in the city: as China becomes a more formidable economic force, this becomes a bigger point in the city’s favour.

Where there are promotions, there must also be relegations. Milan dropped down from the Alpha+ category when Dubai was bumped up in 2010: it’s the most populous city in Italy, but its financial centre isn’t on the level of other Alpha+ cities. Between 2010 and 2012, Glasgow also fell, from Gamma+ to mere Gamma. This is probably because it fared badly in the recession, losing 15,000 jobs between 2012 and 2013 (the 2012 GaWC figures were, confusingly, published in January 2014.)

A competing ranking, the Global Cities Index, first reared its head in 2008 and has been updated every two years since. Compiled by the American journal Foreign Policy and consulting firm AT Kearney, it uses a much wider set of criteria than the GaWC, including such important and excitingly-worded criteria as “human capital”, “cultural experience” and “political engagement”.


Conveniently for its American compilers, US cities fare rather better in this list. In the 2012 GaWC rankings, only 3 of the 23 Alpha cities were in the US. In the Global Cities Index, 4 make the top 10: New York, LA, Chicago, and Washington DC, which scrapes into 10th place entirely through its political importance.

Being a seat of government has worked in Beijing’s favour, too, and the capital of the People’s Republic rose swiftly from 15th place in 2010 to 8th in 2014. Shanghai has fared less well, and is languishing in 18th. It scored highly on business activity and human capital, because lots of foreign businesspeople live there; but poorly on culture and political engagement.

As with other rankings, though, there’s not much shifting around at the top of the scale – the irrepressible NYLON duo have dominated the top two slots ever since the ranking began.

Also in 2008, the Institute for Urban Strategies in Tokyo published its first annual Global Power City Index. This list ranks cities by economy, research and development, environment, liveability, and accessibility. Its focus, according to its compilers, is cities’ ability to “compete with other cities worldwide in drawing creative people and companies to them”. This emphasis on creative people gives Amsterdam and Vienna, both art cities, higher positions than on any other list.

Since 2012, there’s been a veritable flood of new lists, from the interesting to the absurd.  The Wealth Report, compiled by estate agent Knight Frank LLP and Citibank, rates cities by how important they are to high net worth individuals, via the medium of (here comes the science part) asking them to name their favourites. The results come out roughly the same as in other rankings, with the exception of Geneva, which scores much more highly. Coincidentally, a lot of rich people keep their money in Switzerland.

In 2012, the Economist’s Economist Intelligence Unit published its Global City Competitiveness Index, which is based on cities’ ability to attract tourists, business and capital. Western cities dominate the top ten because of their “human capital” (or “people”, as people call them). These cities’ longer histories makes them more adept at attracting  visitors, businesses and what the compilers call “talent” (and what people, again, would call “people”).

What all the lists have in common is an emphasis on how international a city is – whether its population and companies hail from overseas, whether it is attracting international business, and whether it’s engaging with the international economy. If your city can’t attract people to it from all over the globe, then it’ll never make the list. Sorry.

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How the rise of anti-crime politics caused lasting harm to Black Americans

"I see an awareness that has developed in the Black community in the last 10 years or so about how deeply racist the criminal justice system has become," James Forman Jr. says. (David McNew/Getty Images)

The police killing of George Floyd, and the protest movement that emerged from it, has reinvigorated a national conversation around reinventing criminal justice policy in the United States.

At the same time, reports that violent crime is rising in many US cities have resurrected talk of the much-disputed “Ferguson effect,” a theory put forward by law enforcement professionals, and some researchers, who argued that police slowdowns in the wake of the first wave of Black Lives Matter protests resulted in elevated rates of violent crime. President Donald Trump is trying to weaponise this narrative, paired with images of federal officers clashing with protesters in the streets of Portland, to wage a 1968-style backlash election campaign.

“People who want to mobilise a lock-them-up style of either policing or prosecution have tried to weaponise those short-term increases,” says James Forman Jr., professor of law at Yale Law School. “Criminologists will say you have to be very, very cautious about short-term movement [in crime statistics]. We don't know whether or not what we're seeing right now [with violent crime increasing] is going to sustain itself. But the fact is, it's here and people are talking about it.”

In 2018, Forman won the Pulitzer Prize in nonfiction for his book Locking Up Our Own: Crime and Punishment in Black America. Drawing on his experience as a public defender in Washington, DC, he traced the emergence of anti-crime politics in late 20th century Black communities. Forman showed how newly empowered Black politicians fought for policies they believed would protect and uplift Black Americans, but inadvertently contributed to mass incarceration. 


CityMetric recently caught up with Forman to discuss crime trends, where he sees reason for hope in this moment and how the Black political class’s attitude toward crime and punishment has shifted since the latter part of the 20th century. 

This interview has been edited and condensed. 

There is talk right now about a resurgence of crime and violence in American cities. We saw similar, more localised concerns after the initial 2015 Black Lives Matter protests in Ferguson and Baltimore. Do you fear this could reinvigorate the kind of politics you describe in your book among segments of the Black community and political class?

I fear that it could be reinvigorated nationally and also in the Black political class. Look at the political conversations that are happening in Atlanta right now, for example, a city that also has seen a short-term uptick in crime as it is a site of a lot of protests about George Floyd and Breonna Taylor on the national level, as well as Rayshard Brooks and Ahmaud Arbery more locally in Georgia.

I think that you can already see in some of the language of the local elected officials this idea that we have to be very careful about pulling back. [They are saying] “while the protesters may make some valid points, we can't risk returning to the ‘80s and ‘90s.” Those decades really traumatised the United States, and particularly traumatised Black communities. There's a deep fear about returning to the levels of the violence that we saw in the crack years.

You write a lot about class divides among Black Americans, where middle income and elite Black people don't suffer as much from extremely punitive policies. They also have closer ties to the politicians who are creating these policies. There are very specific groups of people, even in marginalised communities, whose voices are heard.  As a result of these dynamics, you write about Black politicians fighting for things like mandatory minimum prison sentences or against decriminalising marijuana. Is there still that disconnect between those who suffer the most from criminal justice policies and those who are actually heard in political discourse?  

Let me just say a caveat, that when we talk about class divisions in the Black community it's important to hold two truths in our head at the same time. Bruce Western and others have shown the way in which class, educational status, income can dramatically reduce the likelihood of being hardest hit by the criminal system – namely incarcerated. Middle class and upper middle class Black people get some measure of protection. It's also true at the same time that Black people of all classes are worse off relative to their class counterparts in the white community. 

One area where class is least protective is policing and police stops. The police do not know how many degrees you have. They don't know how much money you have in your bank account. I want to be very clear that in making this point about class, I'm not making the argument that race or racism don't matter in this context. 

In terms of how it plays out now, I see an awareness that has developed in the Black community in the last 10 years or so about how deeply racist the criminal justice system has become. Twenty or 30 years ago they had a consciousness, but there's levels of understanding. Many of the people I write about in the book wanted to promote the interests of the Black community. They weren't motivated by indifference or callousness. When presented with mounting evidence of how awful this system has been in Black lives, they're reconsidering and recalibrating. 

Lots of former elected officials have said to me some version of “I didn't know at the time and I appreciate that you showed us in our full complexity. I appreciate that you showed the pressures we were under. If I had known then what I know now, maybe I would have been less quick to go along with some of these harsh measures.” 

The second thing that has affected the Black political class has been the emerging movements, led by Black people in particular and led by young people. They not only educated leaders, but pressured them and made them understand that there is a political cost. If you're not moved by the moral argument, then you'll be moved by the political argument. You'll be moved by the people protesting outside the office of District Attorney Jackie Lacey in Los Angeles, for example, where Black Lives Matter LA has held, I believe, a year of consecutive protests against a Black district attorney who has had really some of the worst practices.

From what I can tell, she's been pressured by the movement to change some of her positions on important issues like prosecution of low-level drug offenders, for example, and the aggressiveness with which she prosecutes police officers for acts of violence.

What do you make of the calls to defend or even abolish the police?

What I find so compelling about abolition, initially in the prison context and extended to the police as well, is that it shifts the conversation and forces us to go through experiments in which we imagine what it would take to build that world. I think that exercise is very important, because it pushes us further than we are naturally inclined to go. Cultivating a broader imagination is an incredibly important part of this work, because as you know from my book, often it was lack of imagination that caused people to fall back on [punitive policies]. 

That's what caused D.C. Councilmember David Clarke to call the police rather than public health experts when he was overwhelmed with letters about heroin addicts in public space. He was anti-drug war, but he couldn't imagine responding to a call for help with heroin addicts with anything other than police. That's a very common move from even really good and progressive people. 

People who are for defunding, for abolition, are absolutely right about reinvesting that money into alternative structures that support communities. But the reinvestment part doesn't follow naturally from the terms. We might want to come up with a term that captures the new stuff we want to do. I think that's particularly important because one of the reasons Black communities have ended up supporting more police is that Black communities have always wanted their fair share of the resources.

Then, the evidence suggests the United States has too many police officers doing prophylactic, preventative, or stop-and-frisk style policing. The style of policing that leads to district level harassment, pulling people over for no reason. But we have too little investment in the parts of police departments that investigate unsolved crimes. I'm talking about the investigator or the detective who comes to your house after there's been a robbery, an assault, a rape, or homicide. 

As compared to European countries, in the United States we actually underinvest in those parts of our police departments. Jill Leovy’s book Ghettoside shows this in dramatic detail. She describes an LAPD that's stopping and frisking Black drivers wantonly and yet the homicide detectives are still relying on a fax machine and the fax machine is broken. They have to go with their own money to Staples to buy a printer. Meanwhile, other aspects of the department are kitted out in this ridiculous riot gear that makes them look like they're in Fallujah. 

That under investment is particularly damaging to Black communities because we're disproportionately victimised by crime. Because of racism and this allocation of resources, the police are less likely to respond in Black communities. The kids I used to work with in the charter schools in DC, we talk about no snitching, but one of the reasons they would never call the police after they'd been victimised by crime is they would say, “They're not even going to come. You're wasting time.” 

I did a Q&A with Jill Leovy too and her argument is one I've struggled to articulate in our present moment. She argues the state doesn't have a monopoly on violence in low-income Black neighbourhoods, because investigations of violence are deemphasised and crime victims or their loved ones often take retribution into their own hands.  But right now, establishing or preserving the state's monopoly on violence isn't an appealing talking point. 

Yes, this is another thing nobody's talking about. Whatever we're going to do instead of the police has to be accountable to the public. The best, most direct way to have accountability is to have the individuals be public employees. As long as we have 300 million guns in this country at least some of those state employees are going to themselves be armed. It's unreasonable to ask them to do the job without it. Not as many need to be armed as are armed now, but some of them need to be. But they can't be hiding behind union contracts or civil service protections which make it impossible to remove even the worst performing, most abusive officers. 

We can not call them police if we want to. That's semantic, but maybe symbolism matters. But those people have to be state employees. They can work with community-based nonprofits, but there are also communities that don't have as robust of a nonprofit network, and they deserve protection too. These [community] groups have to be accountable to the state and, when they don't exist, the state has to be there. 

Progressives get all the points I just made when it's applied to education. The notion that things be public and accountable to the state is understood when it comes to schools. It's exactly why so many people on the left are opposed to charter schools, because they say they don't have public accountability. They want these things to be a state function. But this point about the difficulty in removing this entirely from the hands of the state is, I think, one that liberals and progressives understand from other contexts.

Jake Blumgart is a staff writer at CityMetric.