Once a year, people who live in the city are given the right to explore it freely, without the beeping, noise and exhaust of half a million cars.

Above: Kids on bikes cruise past the Azrieli towers.

That’s right – Yom Kippur. A somber day of introspection in most of Israel, in mellow Tel Aviv the Day of Atonement is the closest thing to a day without cars in the Middle East. With all cars banished from the pavements for 25 hours, helmet-clad children take to the streets in their masses.

In contemporary Israel, where land is running out, asphalt is eating up the landscape, the air is thick with smog and gas isn’t getting any cheaper, a day like this is an absolute necessity, reminding us all that the car’s dominance of our living space is not a divinely-ordained decree, but a conscious decision that we have made – and that we can decide otherwise if we wish.

As local newspaper Haaretz notes, this year is the 100 year anniversary of the Model T, Henry Ford’s standardized, mass-produced automobile, which (much like today’s Tata Nano) brought endless mobility within reach of the masses, and changed the streets of world cities beyond recognition.

A couple of years ago I read a book called Carfree Cities, which put forward a very convincing case for reducing the use of private cars in the city, and set out a whole series of design alternatives which, according to author J.H. Crawford, would obviate the need for automobiles in urban areas.

Around the same time, I read another book – James Kunstler’s The Geography of Nowhere – which bemoaned the loss of place and the banal commercialization of the American built landscape. The central villain in Kunstler’s narrative was (surprise, surprise) the automobile.

Left: Strolling down Dizengoff Street.

These days, everyone knows that the automobile is a problem, and the race is on to reduce the negative side effects of our dependence on our cars: pollution, noise, fatal traffic accidents, etc. However, as we race to build a better car, be it electric plug-in, hybrid, hydrogen fuel cell or even liquid natural gas, we may be missing the bigger picture.

The thesis of Carfree Cities is that the car itself is the problem, for a variety of reasons. Of course, there are alternatives to car-based cities, and one of them is to integrate walkable cities with modern rapid transit. In other words, building systems that move lots of people around between different places where they can actually get around on foot (or bike).

Cities built for foot traffic are naturally designed differently than cities designed for traffic propelled by the internal combustion engine. Streets, buildings, lighting, signage – all can be scaled for a car, or scaled for people.

If you want to see a city built according to the needs of cars, visit almost any American city or suburb, with their parking lagoons, strip malls and drive-thrus. Tel Aviv, like most cities built before the middle of the previous century, was built with human dimensions in mind.

Most of the time, this fact is obscured by the traffic jams, the honking and the fumes that emanate from the city’s streets. On Yom Kippur, the original character of the city becomes visible again – a human-scaled city, with small blocks and medium-rise buildings, street trees and compact storefronts. A city that can be traversed on foot in less than an hour.

Suddenly, on Yom Kippur, the city no longer feels so very crowded. Even though the city’s residents came pouring out of their apartments and into the streets last week, on foot and on bike, there was none of the usual feeling of stuffiness and stress. The human body takes up much less room, and puts much less stress on its surroundings, than the car.

An unusual quiet pervades the city – no honking, no tires squealing – and suddenly the air is clean. People take to the streets to casually stroll about. Absolutely nothing is open, neither shops nor restaurants (many people observe the traditional fast). Nothing is broadcast on television either.

In cities all over the world, a new trend has taken root. Once a week, the city’s streets are reclaimed from motor traffic and given over to its human inhabitants. In Bogotá, they call it the Ciclovia. In Portland, it’s known as Sunday Parkways, and in New York, Summer Streets.

The names are different, but the message is always the same: asphalt, which covers so much of our urban space, can be more than just a carriageway for vehicles, it can also be a recreation space for people.

This year, the Israeli blogosphere was full of people expressing their appreciation for Yom Kippur, the local version of Carfree Day, and the one day of the year when the car does not rule the public sphere.

Haaretz  also ran a piece entitled “A Day that Connects Man and Place,” which reflected on the charming cityscape that reveals itself once a year when the smog lifts and we can actually roam freely and unmolested through our city.

While, of course, I am not suggesting that we abandon the car altogether (at least not overnight), it is my hope that the experience of this day without cars will help convince Israeli cities to finally create pleasant, efficient and comprehensive systems to help people get from one place to another, without the soot and the smog.

Article and photos by Jesse Fox. Originally published on GreenProphet.com on Oct. 12 2008. Also published on TreeHugger.com and featured on The Huffington Post.