Car-Free Streets Fail Without Design: A Lessons From Europe
2 days ago
17 min read
A transatlantic collaboration by Giuseppe Guttà, M.Arch (based in Canada), and Federico Palumbo, M.Arch (based in Italy)
Four Canadian cities are currently running an experiment where traffic leaves a street, while three Italian cities have already done so and are still figuring out what comes next.
There are currently 4 live experiments taking place across Canada, in Calgary, Toronto, Vancouver, and Montreal, all of which are examining the extent to which a street can be made over so that it belongs to people rather than to vehicles.
The change is not difficult: barriers are installed, traffic noise stops, and a planter replaces a parking space. Calgary has already limited daytime vehicle access on Stephen Avenue Mall and now intends to carry out a complete rebuild of the street as a shared space, with no private cars allowed within the redesigned area except for emergency and maintenance vehicles. In June 2026, Toronto's city council decided to create a formal, citywide Pedestrian Streets Program, citing its pilot project on Church Street as evidence that such a scheme is practical. During the summer, Vancouver ran a full closure of Granville Street. Montreal, the most committed of the four, closes over a dozen streets to traffic each summer, following a schedule fixed enough to let people plan their activities around it.
In Turin, across the Atlantic, a comparable action on Via Roma quietly conveys the idea that closing a street to motor vehicles is the easy part of the task, and that most cities never manage the second part.
Not all wide pavements qualify, and it's important to make that clear at the start. A pedestrian scramble should not be considered a pedestrian street, any more than a 'complete street' that still allows cars through—even if it has a bike lane and a patio added to make it more balanced—can be called one.
The distinction is clear: it applies to streets where vehicle traffic is banned either permanently or on a fixed schedule, not to those that are more welcoming to pedestrians.
The section of Yonge Street, in the downtown area of Toronto, falls into the second group, while Stephen Avenue, which makes up most of Montreal's summer network, and Turin's Via Roma are in the first. Although the difference may seem trivial, it isn't—since the first category is the only type of street where the real design issue is raised.
Canada: The Street as Pilot Project
Calgary arrived there first, well before the term 'pedestrianization' was ever mentioned aloud. For years, Stephen Avenue has served as downtown Calgary's public living room, with vehicles kept out throughout the day and patios, buskers, and crowds coming for lunch filling in behind the barriers.
The next step will be more extensive: a complete rebuild of the street as a shared space, with no access for private vehicles within the redesigned area, except for emergency and maintenance vehicles.
The true challenge isn't whether the cars will remain outside since they mostly already do; it's whether the approaching reconstruction will transform the present pedestrian area — although it is old and a bit worn at the edges — into a real twenty-first-century public street, instead of just renewing the street by putting new paving stones under the old ones.
Calgary has an advantage no other city on this list can claim: a well-established corridor, demonstrated demand, and many years of behavioural data to use in the planning process. However, it is still uncertain what the city will do with that advantage.
Toronto is preparing its policy without first having the necessary network in place, and it currently has no coverage comparable to Montreal's. Although places such as the Distillery District show that car-free areas can flourish in the city and Kensington Market has been holding Pedestrian Sundays on a seasonal basis for 20 years, Toronto's municipal road network is still fragmented. All that Toronto currently has is evidence in the form of a successful pilot on Church Street, which city council referred to directly when it voted in June 2026 to establish a citywide Pedestrian Streets Program. The next area already cited is Kensington Market, with its own pilot planned following a major street reconstruction and public consultation expected to begin in the summer of 2026. Full pedestrianization is not being introduced in every corridor; the 3.2-kilometre section of Yonge Street between Bloor and Davisville was rebuilt as a permanent Complete Street—with broader sidewalks, café space and protected bicycle lanes—but cars still pass through it.
This is also a clear example of the line drawn earlier on. In terms of paper appearances, Yonge Street Midtown is the most extensive of the three transformations: it has the widest scope, the greatest number of kilometres rebuilt and the largest reported investment. However, it is a Complete Street, not a pedestrian one; Toronto has its own Pedestrian Streets Program, designed for the type of street Yonge Street is not.
Queen Street West (Toronto). Photo Credit: Google Maps Queen Street West (Toronto). Render by Giuseppe Gutta
Vancouver's most significant action of the summer was the complete closure of Granville Street, between West Georgia and Davie, for the entire season—this being the biggest such closure among the four cities—and it served as a live trial of the long-range Granville Street Plan, which envisions a downtown area centred on people rather than on car lanes. Over a few blocks in Gastown, Water Street was also closed to traffic every Sunday from noon until eight o'clock between Richards and Columbia from July 5 to September 6, as part of a public space plan that the council had previously approved.
Vancouver is not denying this. Both of the closures are clearly presented as being part of research – an approach intended to find out what a street can become before deciding whether to permanently transform it, as opposed to making the change first and then finding out later. In this respect, it takes the most honest stance of all. No one in Vancouver refers to a summer closure as a completed public space; Turin, by contrast, explicitly called its final redesign a completed one. It turns out that the difference between accepting that a pilot scheme is just a pilot and confusing a full reconstruction with a completed one matters.
The city of Montreal no longer operates pilots and now has a programme. It says the 2026 schedule includes 7 of the main pedestrian shopping areas, and the calendar confirms this. Avenue Bernard, from Wiseman to Bloomfield, was closed from 23 May to 20 September. Avenue Duluth Est, between Saint-Laurent and Saint-Hubert, was closed from 18 June to 12 October. Long sections of Avenue du Mont-Royal in the Plateau area, between Saint-Laurent and De Lorimier, are reopening gradually during September and October. Nearly a kilometre of Rue Ontario, from Darling to Pie-IX, was closed from 20 June to 13 September. A more recent addition is Rue Villeray, which was closed from 18 June to 17 August. Rue Wellington, the most well-known of the group, is once again one of the city's most dependable closures. In Old Montreal, both Place Jacques-Cartier and Rue Saint-Paul Est are closed from 15 April to 29 October, together with Rue Saint-Vincent and Ruelle Saint-Amable. Sainte-Catherine Est, passing through the Village, is closed from 15 May to 12 October, with a larger, permanent redesign already being planned. One section does not reopen: the forecourt of the Notre-Dame Basilica, which has now been made pedestrian and links the church directly to Place d'Armes.
One summer calendar lists 12 names. If you keep doing this every year for a long time, the pilot ceases to be a pilot, and becomes a habit.
It is a different question whether any of these 12 streets do more than close off a lane to vehicles for a season, and based on the evidence currently available, this remains an open question. Whether the city meant it or not, one advantage of Montreal's seasonal approach is that nothing is treated as final. Each October the barriers are taken down and each spring they are put back up, so the scheme reviews its decisions annually. A trial which is repeated every year is still, in technical terms, a trial.
This is the inventory, and the common feature in all four cities is that when a street is closed to vehicles—whether temporarily or permanently—it is given the headline treatment, whereas what takes place behind the barriers receives far less notice. Exactly this omission Via Roma in Turin makes is the gap in question—a gap of such scale and cost that it is much more difficult to ignore.
Lessons from the Other Side of the Atlantic
The Via Roma Case in Turin
The redevelopment of Turin's monumental thoroughfare presents an opportunity to consider the relationship among preserving historical identity, the quality of public space, and the requirements of the modern city.
The fact that one of a city's most important urban avenues is to be converted into a pedestrian zone is, in itself, a design responsibility. Removing space from the car is in reality only the first step in a far more complicated transformation: decisions must be made regarding the role to assign to the reclaimed area, the kinds of activities to allow, the comfort conditions to provide, and, most importantly, the new relationship to establish between the public space and the architecture that defines it. From this point of view, we can examine the recent transformation of Via Roma in Turin, one of the city's most typical avenues and, at the same time, one of its most sensitive urban areas.
The new layout most certainly merits recognition for improving pedestrian access and the continuity of the space, as it has reduced vehicle traffic and restored the street to a broader, more even surface. Nevertheless, since the project is so important, we should consider whether the pedestrianization actually offered an opportunity to reexamine the experience of public space. There is a danger in confounding two quite different kinds of operation: making a space suitable for pedestrians and designing a space for pedestrians.
Via Roma is not just a road connecting two parts of the city; its importance lies in the clarity of the street's urban plan, the unbroken continuity of its facades, the presence of its porticoes, and,d most particularly, in the remarkable perspectival depth that links the Porta Nuova area with Piazza Castello.
The way the street looks today is due to a major redesign in the twentieth century, based on the principle of urban monumentality. The architecture, the repetition of certain features, the continuity of the facades, and the way the solid parts relate to the open spaces all combine to produce a very distinctive urban environment. And it is precisely here that the real issue concerning design arises. One should not automatically give up on introducing new features when respecting an existing historical layout. On the contrary, the quality of a modern project set in a historic setting is also judged by its ability to add without removing, to transform without disguising the changes, and to meet new requirements without weakening the characteristics that have established the place's identity.
The actual difficulty that Via Roma faced was precisely this: how to preserve the strength of its historic image while incorporating the features an excellent pedestrian street should have to become a truly livable public space.
Successful pedestrianization involves more than altering how people move; it changes their behaviour. People tend to slow down, alter their route, stop to chat with each other, and decide to spend time in an area which they had only used as a way of getting from one place to another. It is this change in behaviour that marks the transition from infrastructure to public space.
However, Via Roma has its own particular situation. Its porticoes already provide an exceptionally efficient route—sheltered, unbroken, lined with shops, and climatically more pleasant than the open space in the middle. Because of this, when the role of the car had been removed or greatly reduced, the project had to address one particular issue: why would a pedestrian choose to leave the portico and walk down the centre of the street?
This is no small matter. If the area gained through pedestrianizing the street provides no shade, no place to sit, no attractions that would encourage people to stay, no vegetation, or any other feature which could make it appealing, then people's existing habits are likely to remain mostly unchanged. Although the street may be designated and equipped for pedestrians, it does not necessarily become pedestrian-friendly in the overall urban experience. Here, an apparent paradox arises.
One of the most significant features of Via Roma, its perspectival symmetry, can only be properly appreciated by walking along its central axis. Yet if that central area does not give people sufficient reasons to use it, they will naturally prefer the sides and the porticoes. The outcome could therefore lead to two kinds of restriction. The first is functional: the central space will tend to be used merely as a passage rather than as a place to spend time. The second is perceptual: by not prompting people to use the central axis, the scheme ironically diminishes the opportunity to experience the very perspectival grandeur that the conservative method was intended to preserve.
That is to say, merely valuing the perspective does not mean that one has to empty the space which enables it; instead, it might involve designing modern elements to work alongside it. When viewed in this way, the issue of trees takes on a broader significance than merely a request to 'add some greenery'. A tree in modern public space has a function that goes beyond aesthetics since it provides shade, contributes to thermal comfort at a microclimate level, introduces a natural feature into areas that are heavily paved, helps in the management of stormwater, and, together with seating and other urban features, helps to create spaces in which people want to stop.
There are certainly real difficulties involved in introducing trees into a place such as Via Roma: the underground utilities, the below-ground parking, the need for maintenance, the question of sightlines, and the requirement to be compatible with heritage restrictions all set up a degree of complexity much greater than that found in a typical boulevard. However, this is precisely what the design process is for. The existence of such constraints should not mean that the design process comes to an end; on the contrary, it should mark the beginning of that process. It is then necessary to study suitable species, trees of limited size, patches of greenery, shading structures, seating arrangements, as well as temporary or permanent installations, and to develop solutions concentrated along the sides while leaving the main central view unobstructed.
The aim should not be to transform Via Roma into a straight canal or to make a radical change to its character; it would have been sufficient to acknowledge that there is a huge range of possibilities for design lying between a completely paved road and a boulevard with dense trees, and it is exactly within that range that this project could have succeeded.
Via Roma (Torino). Photography by Federico Palumbo Via Roma (Torino). Render by Federico Palumbo Via Roma (Torino). Render by Federico Palumbo
Bologna: When Pedestrianization Stays Mostly Paved
It is not a problem that is specific to Turin. The recent changes to Via Indipendenza in Bologna provide an interesting point of comparison. In this case too, we have a major historic urban avenue, one characterized by its porticoes and by its function of linking the city's monumental centre with the station area. Gradually returning the space to pedestrians and sustainable modes of transport has greatly altered the street's role, though the new arrangement remains largely paved. The Bologna example is more interesting not in terms of whether the project "succeeded" or "failed" — a judgment which would need a much wider evaluation — than because it illustrates a certain approach to transforming historic Italian spaces: reduced space for cars, new paving, better pedestrian connectivity, yet only a limited amount of structural greenery. It is a reasonable strategy, particularly in complicated historic environments, but it poses the same question as Via Roma: is freeing up the roadway the end of the project or its beginning?
In each instance, there is a risk of assessing the quality of the transformation solely by the amount of surface area removed from cars, rather than by judging it by the quality of the activities that then take place on that surface area.
Milan: The Monument Doesn't Necessarily Rule Out Greenery
In Milan, at the Largo Cairoli and Via Beltrami in front of the Castello Sforzesco, another method has been adopted. This example is particularly revealing given that the monumental setting is highly sensitive. Permeable surfaces, grass, shrubs and new trees have been incorporated into one of the city's most historically important areas. The vegetation does not aim to compete with the monument and does not necessarily weaken how it is seen; on the contrary, it is employed to create sequences, define edges, provide places to stay, and offer a variety of environmental conditions.
The Milan example therefore shows an important principle to the effect that the existence of monumental heritage does not automatically mean that greenery is incompatible with it; the issue is not one of having to choose between the monument and the tree, but rather where the tree should be placed, which species to use, how big it can grow, which sightlines to keep, and what kind of relationship should be established between the vegetation, the pathways, and the architecture. To put it simply, this is a design question. This is particularly pertinent to Via Roma, since a carefully calibrated, edge-focused arrangement of the various elements could indeed have strengthened the street's directionality rather than undermining it.
Madrid: Landscape as Part of Monumentality
In Madrid, the Paseo del Prado provides another useful example. The way heritage, vegetation, and urban space are linked is, in fact, part of the street's historical character. The trees and the landscape are not seen as foreign to the area's monumentality; on the contrary, they help create that image. The Madrid example cannot be directly applied to Via Roma — since the two streets differ in their histories, sizes, forms and climates — and it would be incorrect to treat it as a ready-made model to imitate. Nevertheless, it is culturally important because it shows that the monumental aspect of an urban avenue can be achieved through landscape as well as hard, paved surfaces.
This principle enables a way forward in relation to the opposition which remains strong in the heritage debate: on the one hand, the historic city, which is seen as mostly consisting of hard surfaces and something that cannot be altered; on the other hand, the modern city, which is given all the environmental and climate responsibilities. The two can exist together and, in fact, over the coming decades they will be increasingly obliged to. The main issue raised by Via Roma can be reduced to something surprisingly simple: once the cars have disappeared, what are we to do with the space we have regained? That is the most important question any major pedestrianization scheme is currently raising. Getting rid of traffic does not automatically improve the urban environment; design must transform it into public space. This therefore involves considering issues such as shade, seating areas, permeable ground surfaces, vegetation, temporary events, flexibility, slow mobility, accessibility, how the architecture is perceived, and the various ways the same place can be used throughout the day and across the seasons.
The Via Roma was, in fact, a particularly interesting case to examine, as it appears to have two opposing characteristics: a strong historical identity and, at the same time, a need to meet the new environmental and social demands placed on public space. It had never really been a question of choosing between preservation and transformation, but of working out how the two could coexist.
A redevelopment or just a resurfacing?
As we have already mentioned, the work carried out on Via Roma in Turin has a positive effect on several aspects: accessibility, surface, material continuity, quality, and the overall legibility of the space. Yet since this scheme involves one of Turin's most significant streets, it is reasonable to question whether these improvements are sufficient. Such a major redevelopment might have provided the opportunity not only to consider what Via Roma should look like, but more importantly, how it should be used in the coming decades. The difference lies in the fact that a paving project has a primarily surface-level effect, whereas a public space project influences behaviour — determining where we walk, where we slow down, where we sit, where we find shade, where we meet other people, what we look at, and the kind of relationship we establish with the buildings surrounding us.
From this viewpoint, Via Roma appears to have been improved only structurally in terms of pedestrianization. A new paved surface has been constructed, but a new kind of public space that fully highlights what makes the street special has not yet been created. And this might be the most problematic point about the project. Not because every street has to have trees, benches, or other street furniture, but because every kind of transformation should begin with consideration of the behaviour it is intended to encourage.
If we want to restore Via Roma for pedestrians, we have to consider what would persuade them not only to cross it but to actually choose it, take up residence on it, and make it their everyday route. Although heritage constraints, preservation requirements, the presence of underground utilities, below-ground parking, maintenance needs, and the importance of keeping the view unobstructed are all significant factors that must be taken seriously, they should not be used as an excuse for abandoning design. Indeed, it is precisely these difficulties that make good design so essential.
If we also take into account the delays that accumulated throughout the construction process, the question becomes all the more difficult to ignore: shouldn't such a large investment in one of Turin's most iconic areas have called for a more ambitious vision? It needn't have been more spectacular, nor necessarily more intrusive, and certainly not even more 'green' in a purely quantitative way — it just needed to be better at turning pedestrianization into genuine urban design.
Via Roma never had to give up its monumentality in order to become modern; it only needed that monumentality to be reinterpreted in light of the needs of the contemporary city. Since preserving a major historic street involves more than just maintaining its appearance, it also means ensuring that it remains a place where people actually live. Perhaps this is precisely the way in which the quality of an intervention on urban heritage is now assessed: not by the capacity to decide between history and change, but by the much harder ability to design a point at which the two come together.
The Real Test Begins Here
Once the cars have disappeared, what are we to do with the space we have regained?
At this moment, Calgary, Toronto, Vancouver, and Montreal all have a sort of collective benefit, since none of them have come to a final decision. Stephen Avenue is set to be completely rebuilt, not just resurfaced. Toronto's Pedestrian Streets Program is still only on paper, with Kensington Market still at the consultation stage. In Vancouver, Granville and Water Street are being treated as areas of research rather than as ones where changes will actually take place. In Montreal, the twelve streets are reviewed every October, which means that each spring offers an opportunity to make revisions. In all these cases, the key decision—the one concerning what will, in fact, be built in the area previously occupied by cars—has not yet been finalized.
It is precisely at this stage that Turin's experience proves its value rather than merely serving as a warning. Via Roma illustrates the result when a city regards the elimination of traffic as the end of the story: the street becomes wider, smoother, and more accessible, but the fundamental behaviour remains unchanged, since no measures have been taken to encourage people to leave the porticoes and come into the centre. Bologna's Via Indipendenza indicates that this is not an isolated error but rather the standard outcome of a particular type of conservative, heritage-aware redevelopment — reduce the road, resurface it, connect the sections, and that's the end of it. In contrast, Milan and Madrid show that a grand, historically sensitive street can include trees, shade, and greenery without giving up what gives it its stateliness, provided the design treats vegetation and seating as structural elements rather than decorative features.
The point that Canadian cities can take away is not one that relates specifically to trees, since differences in climate and urban surroundings make such a lesson impossible to apply directly. It is a matter of sequence. The error made by Turin was not in making Via Roma a pedestrian zone; it was in treating 'no more cars' as if it were a complete design. Although Calgary, which has the most behavioural data of the four cities, is in the best position to avoid falling into that mistake, this will only be the case if its redevelopment directly addresses the unanswered question posed by Turin—that is, once vehicles have been removed, what actually will the space be used for and what will cause people to prefer it to the pavement they currently use? Both Toronto's citywide initiative and Montreal's now-permanent seasonal network also need to confront this same test on a bigger scale—a policy or a simple entry in a calendar does not, in itself, create a public space.
The four Canadian pilots are still at a stage where that question can determine the outcome, rather than merely allowing it to be criticized afterwards. This is the actual difference between a street which loses its cars and one which becomes a place people want to be.
