The Bogotá That Never Was: Failed Urban Projects That Shaped the City

The city as a collage of abandoned plans

Did you know that the Séptima almost became an elevated highway that would have passed over the houses of La Perseverancia? Or that in the 1940s, a plan to build a metro connecting downtown with the north emerged among Bogotá's proposals. Bogotá is a mosaic of stories, and many of those stories are projects that never saw the light of day. Every forgotten blueprint, every stored model, every discarded decree has left a mark, often invisible but profound, on the urban fabric we traverse today. This is the narrative of the Bogotá that never was and how those failures have shaped the city we know.

To understand today's Bogotá, one must look not only at what has been built, but also at what has been left by the wayside. The city is an archive of intentions, political struggles, and dreams of modernity that never materialized. In August 2026, as the first metro line advances, it is important to remember that this struggle has roots stretching back nearly a century.

The tram that never reached Usaquén and the 1940 metro

At the beginning of the 20th century, Bogotá was a small city, with just over one hundred thousand inhabitants. Public transport moved at the pace of mules and carts, alongside some horse-drawn trams. In 1910, the electric tram was inaugurated, a marvel that connected downtown with Chapinero. The idea was to expand this network northward to Usaquén and southward, covering areas like Tunjuelito. Blueprints existed, the rails were laid out, and feasibility studies were conducted.

However, the expansion was never completed. Why? A mix of economic crises, government changes, and the arrival of buses, which offered a cheaper and more flexible alternative. The tram, once a symbol of modernity, began to decline in the 1940s. Bus companies, many informal, preferred more profitable routes, and the tram became a nuisance: slow and costly, with rails that hindered automobile traffic.

In 1944, Mayor Jorge Eliécer Gaitán proposed an ambitious plan: an underground metro traversing the city from north to south. Foreign engineers were hired, stations were designed, and a route was mapped out that would pass along Carrera Séptima and Avenida Caracas. The project's model was exhibited at the Palacio Liévano, and the dream of a modern Bogotá, on par with Buenos Aires or Mexico City, captivated many.

But the project faded away. First, Gaitán's assassination in 1948 plunged the country into the Bogotazo and a spiral of violence. Then, resources were scarce for a government that had to prioritize housing and health after the riots. Furthermore, the interests of the automotive industry and road builders tipped the balance toward investing in roadways for vehicles rather than underground rails.

The tram continued to operate precariously until 1951, when it was officially eliminated. The rails were torn up or covered with asphalt, but today, if you look closely at some streets downtown, you can find traces of those rails under the worn pavement. A tangible reminder that the city once had a public transportation system on rails, which was discarded due to decisions that today seem like colossal errors.

The tram's legacy in urban memory

The tram left a cultural mark that still endures. Neighborhoods like La Perseverancia and Las Cruces were built around its stations. The wide streets of Chapinero and Teusaquillo were designed with the idea that the tram would be part of the landscape. Popular memory holds nostalgia for the yellow trams that once plied Carrera Séptima. In the archives of the Biblioteca Luis Ángel Arango, photographs from those times are preserved, and the Museo de Bogotá displays pieces of the old system.

The 1940 metro, for its part, became an urban myth. Every time a mayor launches a new metro plan, the media recalls it. History repeats itself: studies, models, hopes, and then cancellation due to lack of resources or political interests. The first metro line being built today (with Avenida Caracas as its main axis) represents, in a sense, the belated realization of a dream over eighty years old.

The highway that would have destroyed La Perseverancia

La Perseverancia is one of Bogotá's most beloved and symbolic neighborhoods. It was born at the beginning of the 20th century as a settlement for workers from the nearby Bavaria brewery. Its steep streets, colorful houses, and the famous festival of San Pascual Bailón make it a unique place in the city. But it was on the brink of disappearing.

In the 1950s and 1960s, influenced by the modern urbanism dominating the world, Bogotá's planners believed cities should be crossed by large highways. The Plan Vial Piloto contemplated an elevated highway that would pass right over La Perseverancia. The idea was to connect downtown with the north at high speed, avoiding the neighborhood's congested streets.

This project threatened to destroy hundreds of homes in La Perseverancia and surrounding neighborhoods like Egipto and Las Aguas. Families rooted there for decades would be displaced. However, the community, backed by local leaders and the parish, organized. Protests, open town halls, and an awareness campaign managed to halt the project in the late 1960s.

It was one of the first victories of the citizen movement in Bogotá against imposed planning. The highway was never built. Instead, the Avenida Circunvalar was chosen, which skirts the eastern hills and, although it also involved expropriations, managed to preserve the neighborhood's social fabric.

The cost of victory

La Perseverancia's victory came at a cost. The city lost a fast route connecting downtown with the north, and traffic continued to congest on Carrera Séptima and Avenida Caracas. But the neighborhood survived, becoming today an example of resistance and community life. Its streets are an open-air museum of traditional Bogotá, with its corner stores, mechanic workshops, and houses declared of heritage interest.

For urban planners, La Perseverancia is a clear example: planning is not only technical but also political and social. The city that was not built, in this case, would have been faster for the car but poorer in terms of community and memory.

The airport downtown: the Techo proposal and its rejection

Today, El Dorado International Airport is located in the west of the city, near Fontibón and Engativá. But that location was the result of a long debate that spanned decades. In the 1930s, when commercial aviation was beginning to take off in Colombia, Bogotá needed a modern airport. The Techo airfield, in what is now the Kennedy neighborhood, then a rural area southwest of the city, was initially considered.

The proposal to build Techo Airport was serious. Studies were conducted, land was acquired, and the first runways were built. In 1932, it was inaugurated as the city's main airport. However, problems quickly arose. The area was prone to flooding, which made operations difficult. Additionally, the city was growing southward and westward, approaching residential areas, generating noise and danger.

In the 1940s and 1950s, the possibility of keeping Techo as the main airport was discussed, but pressure from urban planners and residents led to the search for a new site. In 1959, El Dorado was inaugurated, designed by architect Cuéllar Serrano Gómez, becoming one of the most modern airports in Latin America. Techo was closed for commercial aviation, and the land was designated for housing, giving rise to the Kennedy neighborhood, which today is one of the most populous localities in the city.

The rejection of Techo had profound consequences. On one hand, the city lost an airport closer to downtown, but gained a huge urban lung in the west. At the same time, the development of Kennedy and nearby neighborhoods accelerated, transforming the city's social map. That airport that never was became a neighborhood that today symbolizes popular and working-class Bogotá.

Techo's mark on the urban landscape

Today, walking through Kennedy, it is hard to imagine planes taking off there. However, its mark persists: Avenida Boyacá, which passes nearby, was the access road to the airport. Some streets in the neighborhood still bear the names of pilots and aviation, such as Calle de los Aviadores. And in the memory of the oldest residents, the recollection of those DC-3 planes landing amidst the pastures still resonates.

The Techo case shows that infrastructure decisions have an impact felt for generations. The Bogotá that never was, in this case, could have had a central airport, with noise and congestion, but also proximity. The Bogotá that is, instead, has a distant airport that has driven the development of the west but forces travelers to cross the entire city to reach downtown.

Other failed projects that left their mark

The history of failed projects in Bogotá is extensive and rich. Here are some other cases worth remembering:

• The Ciudad Universitaria elsewhere: Before deciding on the current location of the Universidad Nacional, land in the north, near what is now Usaquén, was considered. The final decision, made in the 1930s, defined the development of the city's west.
• The San Francisco River canal: In the 1940s, it was proposed to channel and cover the San Francisco River (current Avenida Jiménez) to create a great underground avenue. The project was discarded due to costs, and the river remains a visible element of the urban landscape, although it now runs in a pipe under the avenue.
• The Satellite City of Bosa: In the 1960s, a plan was designed to establish a satellite city in Bosa, with housing, industry, and green spaces. The project never materialized, and Bosa developed informally, with the urbanization problems that entails.
• The commuter train: On several occasions, a commuter train connecting Bogotá with municipalities like Zipaquirá, Cajicá, and Chía has been proposed. Some sections were built and operated for years, but the service was suspended in the 1990s. Today, there are plans to revive it, but the infrastructure remains in ruins.
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