How many times do we Bostonians see or hear these words? It’s a favorite phrase of city officials, writers for various publications, and speakers at civic events. Is Boston truly world class? What do we have to do to make people think we are? What can we do to convince ourselves we are? When we mention those words, do we give ourselves away as anxiety-ridden and status-challenged? Boston has had an inferiority complex toward New York ever since the early 1800s when New York harbor bested Boston’s in shipping. But we are still fretting over the situation. Is Boston a world class city?

I’m here to answer this question once and for all. No.

I’ve got evidence. In the Global Cities Index, put out by the Chicago Council on Global Affairs, Boston ranked 16 among the 66 largest cities in the world, far behind—guess who—the top ten: New York, London, Paris, Tokyo, Hong Kong, LA, Chicago, Seoul, Brussels and Washington, D. C.

The council measured cities on five factors: business activity, human capital, information exchange, cultural experience, and political engagement.

The report explaining this index appeared in an online publication called “The Atlantic Cities” and was forwarded to me by my friend Bob O’Brien, executive director of the Downtown North Association. It didn’t mention Boston. There was a lot of talk about “urban vectors” and  “relationships among nation states” and “urban axes” that made my eyes cross with bewilderment. The message about Boston was clear, however. It is not world class.

In other rankings of important cities, Boston isn’t mentioned either. Forbes? Passed us right over. Mastercard’s list of top cities for commerce? Boston ranked 21^st. Even Philadelphia beat us out. We weren’t on Mastercard’s list for livability either, but San Francisco was.

So how can we face the truth that Boston may never be world class? My suggestion is that we celebrate it. We’re not like one of those places with gazillions of people and an exhausting global pace. Boston is a regional city up in a corner of a big country. But it has more than its share of charm. We might even consider Boston a boutique city.

This shouldn’t mean that we’re a boutique city in the way the Boston Foundation fears in its 2012 Boston Indicators Report—that Boston is full of wealthy retirees and a dearth of families.

Instead it should mean that our neighborhoods are attractive, with lively commercial centers, well-kept housing and excellent pedestrian provisions—in other words, unique in the U.S.

It should mean that we adjust our zoning, property tax structure and other mechanisms to encourage small scale, local, independent businesses rather than the national and regional chains that make every other American city look like a Dallas, one of my most favorite cities to hate. Once when I was there I saw a billboard for a gun show. I thought if I lived there I’d have to go to the show, because I’d want to shoot myself. But I digress.

It should mean that we nurture our parks and other public spaces, create new ones and rejoice in our openness to one another while the rest of the country hunkers down in their gated communities.

It should mean that we expand our public transportation system and care for it so that we can go anywhere in the metropolitan area—or dare I say the state—with ease and economy, and that in doing so we reduce the number of cars coming into the city so that the drivers who have to drive have a good experience.

It should mean that we establish an “experience” committee to create only-in-Boston experiences for all the residents—an adult spelling bee, community sings, and events people with more fertile minds than mine could think up. Let’s nix those things like the cows that went to every city in the world so that by the time they got here, the idea was dead. After all, since we’re not world class, we’re never going to be the first city to host someone else’s idea of an event.

And finally, we should stop using the words “world class.” It’s the sure sign that we are not world class when we use those words.