The press releases sound the same as they did five years ago. "New initiative to address youth unemployment." "Innovative program to revitalize neighborhoods." "Historic investment in workforce development." Meanwhile, the same problems persist because we keep building programs instead of systems.
I've sat in hundreds of meetings where well-intentioned leaders announce the next big program. The funding is secured, the partnerships are signed, the ribbon-cutting is scheduled. And I've watched most of these programs fade away within three years, leaving behind nothing but a few success stories and a lot of unfulfilled potential.
The Program Trap
Programs are designed to solve problems. Systems are designed to make problems obsolete. This distinction isn't semantic – it's the difference between temporary relief and permanent transformation.
A program to train 500 unemployed residents in coding is a good thing. But when the grant ends, the trainers leave, the curriculum becomes outdated, and the next cohort of unemployed residents faces the same barriers. A system for continuous workforce development – one that connects employers, educators, and community organizations in self-sustaining loops – keeps producing results long after any single funding cycle ends.
Programs are band-aids. Systems are immune systems. One treats symptoms, the other prevents disease.
Why We Keep Choosing Programs
Programs are easier to fund, easier to measure, and easier to take credit for. A politician can announce a program and point to ribbon-cuttings and participant numbers. A foundation can fund a program and track outputs for their annual report. Everyone gets their win.
Systems are messier. They take longer to build, harder to measure, and the credit is distributed across many actors. When a system works, no single organization can claim the victory – which means no single organization is incentivized to build it.
This is the fundamental misalignment in how we approach urban development. The people with resources optimize for visibility and attribution. The communities they serve need infrastructure that persists regardless of who gets credit.
Building Systems That Last
Real systems share three characteristics that programs lack:
Self-sustaining feedback loops. A system generates its own momentum. When we built the Builders Cohort, we didn't just train entrepreneurs – we created a network where successful founders mentor the next generation, who in turn mentor the generation after that. The system grows stronger with each cycle, rather than depleting with each cohort.
Multiple stakeholders with aligned incentives. Programs typically have one funder and one operator. Systems distribute ownership across multiple parties who each benefit from the system's success. When everyone has skin in the game, everyone works to keep the system running.
Adaptive capacity. Programs are designed for the problem as it exists today. Systems are designed to evolve as problems evolve. The best urban systems I've seen aren't static – they have built-in mechanisms for learning, adapting, and improving.
Detroit's Systems Opportunity
Detroit has a unique advantage in the systems-building game: we've already hit bottom. The bankruptcy forced us to question every assumption about how cities operate. The old systems are gone, which means we have the rare opportunity to build new ones from scratch.
But we keep squandering this opportunity by falling back into the program trap. Every new mayor, every new foundation president, every new corporate partner wants to launch their signature program. And the cycle continues.
What if we committed to a different approach? What if we evaluated every initiative not by how many people it serves in year one, but by whether it will still be serving people in year ten? What if we rewarded systems-builders as much as we reward program-launchers?
Stop asking "what program can we launch?" Start asking "what system can we build?"
The Path Forward
I'm not against programs. They serve a purpose, especially in crisis response. But programs should be entry points into systems, not ends in themselves. Every program should be designed with a clear path to becoming unnecessary – either because it has seeded a self-sustaining system, or because it has addressed a problem that no longer exists.
This requires a fundamental shift in how we think about urban development. It means accepting longer timelines, messier metrics, and shared credit. It means investing in infrastructure that outlasts any single administration or funding cycle.
Most importantly, it means having honest conversations about why we keep starting over. The answer isn't that we lack good ideas or committed people. The answer is that we've optimized for the wrong outcomes. We've built an ecosystem that rewards program creation rather than systems building.
Detroit deserves better. We deserve systems that compound over time, that get stronger with each cycle, that make the next generation's problems easier to solve. We deserve to stop starting over.
The question isn't whether we can build these systems. The question is whether we have the patience and the courage to try.
