public spaces

Walking around one of our neighbourhood's newest parks, I thought to myself: this is something France gets right. Public spaces. It's clear that some thinking had gone into the design of this park, how it could reinforce a sense of community, and this is reflected in the way it is used. 

A large stretch of grass is frequently occupied by families and groups of mothers and friends, who come from all over to picnic, to spend time together, to share laughter and to give children some space to play. No differences are made between who comes from where. On a sunny day, you're guaranteed to bump into many other families that you know. That's the main characteristic of public spaces, I suppose: they are open to everyone, without exception, and they permit a kind of organic, effortless union of people. A natural place of meeting. 

In this park, the grassed area is dotted with water fountains, which not only serve to beautify the space, but also provide much welcome relief to the (admittedly rare) summer's heat for children. It is hugged by flower beds on each side, behind which, on one side, there is play equipment for children, and on the other ping pong tables. One of my favourite sections is the vegetable garden. Since many residents live in tall apartment blocks, with no space for gardening, there are many plots available for growing local produce. So not only does this space invite the community to meet and reinforce bonds of friendship, it also encourages small scale, local farming.

There are other uses, too. On the side opposite is what you could call an educational area - labeled plant species to be admired and discovered by curious passers-by, but more significantly, little gardening plots dedicated to local primary schools classes. The plots are decorated with hand-drawn labels which identify the class that has created and is maintaining each unique, ornamental arrangement of colourful flowers (photos to come!). Overlooking the flower garden is an indoor area that features a long table and low chairs, to facilitate the learning of these children. Even in small ways, this place embodies values about local participation in the upkeep of the park. But, more importantly, it puts nature back on the curriculum, and brings it back to the home front, not to some far away place in the country that they'll only visit as tourists on vacation. Introducing children to the notion of gardening and tending the soil, helping them understand the efforts that are needed to make things grow, reconnects them to an earth that is increasingly hidden from their eyes. Values not to be taken lightly in these times of environmental neglect and climate change concerns. 

And people do come from all over, even from the neighbouring suburb, to use this space for all these different purposes. Our council plans to create more like these, with numerous park projects in the pipes, and many at various stages of development. Yet, from what I can gather, this is going against trends in the West towards public spaces, which are increasingly facing privatisation in the name of efficiency and development. A recent article in the Guardian describes how many public spaces in Britain's cities have fallen into private hands. This privatisation has been praised by many as a way of channeling private funding into the development of neighbourhoods, where once neglected spaces are transformed into beautiful - or at least more useable - places. Sometimes this might be parks and recreational areas, though usually with restricted access; oftentimes these might be commercial spaces, such as shopping malls or restaurant strips.When, as in many cases, public sidewalks and streets become the only truly 'public' spaces left, perhaps we should stop and ask, at what cost? And, in whose vision of 'development'?Far from the community friendly park described above, a major criticism towards the privatisation of public spaces is that the uses of these spaces become reduced to the pursuit of narrow commercial - and by default consumerist - interests. The article quotes 'Occupy' activist Naomi Colvin, who argues, "It's a vision of society in which you work and you shop. At times when you are not working or shopping, you may go to restaurants. You may possibly go to some officially sanctioned kind of entertainment activity which is sponsored by X but there's no scope for people do so something of their own." As the article notes, "these spaces are being designed on a corporate model that favours ornament - and high footfall for retailers - while community spirit and sustainability are not a priority." So what the "community" does together in these spaces becomes very limited. What Colvin describes - going shopping, going to restaurants - are a very narrow set of activities that fuel a consumption based economy, values towards which the private sector is more partial, but which are not necessarily conducive to a fruitful community life. Interactions are reduced to consumerist pursuits, and choices are narrowed to what we can buy (or afford). In his book, 'The Right to the City,' French sociologist Henri Lefebvre describes how, over time, such planning changes the very nature of our social fabric:






















   

    



     

Some will put into practice and will conretise a directed consumer society. They will build not only commercial centres, but also centres of privileged consumption: the renewed city. They will by making 'legible' an ideology of happiness through consumption, joy by planning adapted to its new mission. This planning programmes a daily life generating satisfactions ... A programmed and computerised consumption will become the hard rule and norm for the whole society.

The article also highlights a reduced capacity for meeting in these places. Many members of the community are excluded from them, whether this is due to a lack of affordability or because private proprietors erect physical barriers. So, yes, the spaces might be more beautiful. But then, the most beautiful parts of the society are excluded from general public use.

Another article by cultural critic Henry Giroux frames the privatisation of public spaces as a threat to democratic values. Giroux describes the influence of a "neoliberal philosophy that reduces all relationships to the exchange of goods and money," where human agency is "replaced by market-based choices in which private satisfactions replace social responsibilities."

For Giroux then, the absence of public spaces signifies more than a lack of places to meet for recreation and to build community bonds, but represents rather an encroachment on public spheres for genuine exchange and discussion. 

 There is a growing sense in the popular imagination that citizen involvement, social planning and civic engagement are becoming irrelevant in a society in which the public sphere is aggressively dismantled and important social issues are trivialised into mainstream media. Those traditional, if not imagined, public spheres in which people could exchange ideas, debate, and shape the conditions that structured their everyday lives increasingly appear to have little relevance.

While Giroux's article goes on to take quite a political dimension, I find that his comments on public engagement and individual agency are worth reflecting on, particularly regarding the notion of who can best define how our neighbourhoods should be used.

The privatisation of space effectively excludes the public from having a say in its design and removes any thread of accountability towards them. The private sector has no obligation to take residents' views into account when deciding how to use the space it has purchased, and most of the time, it's in their best interests not to do so. This is not to say the private sector is completely indifferent to these questions, but rather that its primary incentive isn't to promote the public good.

These spaces, then, now beyond the reach of governments, become disconnected from issues of equity, social justice and civic responsibility. As French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu notes in the article, by surrendering control and ownership of these spaces, by outsourcing public goods, "government is discounted as a guardian of the public interest." Governments are effectively relinquishing their public duties.

This brings us then to a much bigger question - not just about how we uses spaces, nor whose interests this reflects, but on the role of government in providing the spaces (whether physical or otherwise) that reinforce the fabric of a vibrant community life, and that leave room for the exercise of individual participation. We see in the contrasting examples from France and the UK that the government has the power both to support community advancement, and to inhibit it.

We need thus to rethink the nature of the public, how new forms of social citizenship might be expressed through different institutions and spheres. Longing for a more human, participatory society requires agency, engagement and supportive institutions.

It seems to me then that true places of meeting - accessible to all, and reflective of the activities that bring out human beings' higher potential - require the involvement of engaged institutions, just as they require a vibrant community life and individuals who wish to contribute to this. And they require a renewed sense of the 'public', of people as people, not as private citizens, not as consumers, but as human beings who want to be able to express the multitude of things that make us human within the vicinity of their homes. And who want to know that they can do so as members of a public with equal stake in these spaces.

spaces for selling

So I need new glasses, and decided to check out a couple of the local spectacle stores. It turns out that these two stores, which face opposite each other, are opposite in may other ways too, and seemed to embody two very different ways of doing business. More specifically, two different attitudes to the role of work in one's life as well as different conceptions of the purpose of selling goods. At least, this is what was gleaned through my experiences in each store.

The first place was nice enough, and the sales clerk quite friendly. But there was an air of sterility about the place - perhaps an atmosphere towards sales that has become standardised through the large, impersonal supermarket model - everything is brightly lit, all of the products are on display in neat rows so that customers can come in and browse easily, without the need for interruption (or human contact). If we need help, we can ask, but what we see is what we get. If we like something, we buy it, if the shop doesn't have what we're looking for, come back another time. Much like the supermarket, shopping had become a solo trip through consumer-land, where the products alone should be sufficient to secure our interest.

At this point, I must add that finding glasses for me is an extremely difficult endeavour. I have a strangely small shaped/sized head meaning I need really tiny frames (my current pair is from the children's section, seriously). So I suppose I am a little more susceptible to the need for good service in this department. But nevertheless, service in the second store was so strikingly different to that encountered in practically any store I've entered, regardless of the product.

Owned by a young mother, the store has only been open for about six months. Upon walking in, my husband and I were a little taken aback - were we walking into a store, or into someone's living room? The centre piece was a couch, and then a table with chairs, while the glasses - the items for sale - were all tucked away on hard to get to shelving at the back. They were displayed in quite a decorative fashion which looked really nice, but which didn't match that ease of access to the glasses in the first store we visited - access required assistance.

The second thing we noticed was the bright, friendly face of the young woman who came to serve us. As usual, I explained my small-face predicament, as well as the details of what I was looking for (even though I know normally beggars can't be choosers...). She went straight away and brought me back a few different pairs, and each time I tried them she looked closely and gave her opinion. When it came down to two different pairs, she looked a while and said, "you know, these ones, they just become a part of your face." Okay, so it could just sound like a good sales technique. But she seemed to care about finding the right pair, which matters when you need to wear glasses often and don't want to make a fashion statement about them (i.e. just want to be able to see). So those were great words to hear.

When I inquired about her interesting and unusual range, she confided (with much passion) that she worked really hard to find things that were a bit unusual, in the hope that people could come and find products suited to them. She also tried to sell smaller brands that were a bit harder to find. I guess she was trying to go against the tide of mass-production. Irrespective of this business model, her prices were reasonable - in fact, better than the big brands you find everywhere. What impressed me more was the time she seemed to devote to this task - not because there was a major demand for it but because she was so passionate about it, and because she really wanted to try and provide more creative products for her customers.

I think it's rare to find someone so passionate about their work in any field, and also to see how this translates to her desire to serve her customers in every way - not only by trying to offer original products but also in her quest to create an ambience where everyone feels at home. She explained how that feeling we got when walking in was intentional - she wants her customers to be able to sit down and relax and for her to serve them, rather than that help-yourself-all-you-can eat supermarket model (my words, not hers). And then it dawned on me that perhaps we had simply gotten accustomed to this impersonal model - I am used to walking in and out of stores, browsing around, with barely even a "hello" to the sales clerk. When the relationship between the sales clerk and the customer is reduced to a simple economic transaction, there is no need for more than a hello, really. But when we set up shop in our own neighbourhood, when our main clients are our neighbours and inevitably friends, we have a different way of doing business. We conduct our service in a way that privileges building relationships rather than just exchanging goods. We try to offer quality over quantity and the best service possible. Even the spatial layout of the commercial space differs - the furniture arrangement clearly reflects the primacy of relations before sales, or at least as an integral part of the transaction.

I also inquired as to why she had decided to open such a specialist store here in the suburb we live in, which is hardly a hub for shopping. She explained, simply, that she lived nearby and that her children's school was opposite, so she wanted to be able to spend more time with her family. She admitted that sales in Paris would certainly be more profitable. But that wasn't the main thing driving her. Casually, she asked us about our lives, too. I think this natural conversation and this openness in which she felt at ease to put her family values on the table (along with the glasses) was welcoming, as was the passion she clearly held for her job. I mean, there are probably not that many people that take such a keen interest in glasses. But luckily there are some! We need such passion for all the diverse goods and services that we depend on in the world. And I can't help feeling that if more people felt that passionate towards their work, and treated it like a service, the way we conduct these transactions would transform into some kind of meaningful exchange. Additionally, the more that we see a greater coherence between our family and work values, as well as towards those within our community, the more these locally-embedded types of models might prove to be great approaches to 'doing business', not only reinforcing the relationships between members within a neighbourhood, but also increasing and diversifying the range of employment opportunities available locally too.

Once again, I appreciate how 'space' and the way it's defined reflects the types of relationships valued within a place. While I've tended to contemplate this at the level of the neighbourhood, or of the entire city, it's just as interesting to consider how this functions in the space of places like shops too.

places of exchange

Man must work with his fellows. Everyone should have some trade, or art or profession, be he rich or poor, and with this he must serve humanity. This service is acceptable as the highest form of worship.

- Baha'i Writings

Today marked the bi-annual 'brocante' in our neighbourhood - sort of a collective, community garage sale. Organised by the local council, interested members of the community can reserve a stand and come sell off any goods no longer needed - everything from shoes they've only worn once, to old VHS that the odd person can still play, to dinner sets and - in particular abundance - children's toys and books. As usual, the event attracts a steady crowd throughout the day. Held only a few blocks from where we live, we love to go to see who we might run into as much as (or more than) the actual items for sale.

Today's little wander got me thinking about what a great initiative this event is - a far cry from the 'garage sales' that we organised back home in Australia, alone, putting some cardboard signs up on neighbouring streets in the hope of attracting some passers-by. Needless to say, they were few and far between! It made me realise the impact local government can play to support and facilitate local initiatives. Granted, this was just to sell off peoples' things (in itself great because it does encourage less waste and supports a sense of a local economy, of neighbours getting together and exchanging goods for reasonable prices - even if just for a day!)

But it got me thinking. What if these same kinds of initiatives also became platforms for the exchange of locally produced goods? I know that local markets are not a new concept, but those which exist in France tend to be dominated by centralised merchants who tour different markets on different days selling their produce. It doesn't actually facilitate much local exchange, nor serve as a portal for burgeoning young talents to access local markets - it really only brings outside products closer to home.

The reason these questions were floating around in my mind has to do with some reading and thinking I've been doing about social entrepreneurship. I attended a round-table discussion on this issue last week as part of the OECD Forum 2012, and listening to those around the table, it became clear that though once seen as an alternative career path for some innovative, 'risk-taking' individuals, entrepreneurship is now being considered as a more viable employment option, particularly for youth as the labour markets continue to shrink and traditional employment opportunities narrow further. Part of this shift entails a questioning of the current employment model - from an approach where we receive a specialised training to go out and look for a ready-made slot in the 'job market' to one where individuals can themselves start initiatives, based on responding to perceived needs, often in one's own locale.

I remarked how, having worked with many youth closely as part of our community building efforts in our neighbourhood, the extent and diversity of their talents is evident. Yet job opportunities here are few and far between, even before the effects of the 'crisis' set in. What deprivation, then, for these youth (as well as any others), if these talents and capacities are not expressed through a meaningful activity, by which they can earn their livelihood? In addition to these capacities, many of these youth also have networks locally - their families and friends, their community, a crucial ingredient in local trading schemes. What kind of education, I wondered, would help such youth build the skills they needed to embark on such endeavours? What kind of accompaniment and support structures would enable them to believe this route is viable - whether as a career or even as a part-time job to support them through their studies? What kind of access to finance would be required?

A second layer of questioning also involved the model of entrepreneurship that could be pursued - i.e. whether this would be a more traditional 'profit maximisation' approach or whether we can rethink the role of local enterprises as being embedded in some kind of community development framework.

These issues are explored in a little more detail in a publication produced by the OECD's Local Economic and Employment Development (LEED) programme. The book contains analyses of social enterprises already in existence, largely in Europe and the US.

Though there is not yet a common understanding of the term 'social enterprise', or 'social entrepreneurship', in Europe these endeavours tend to be conceived as a "different way" of doing business ('entreprendre autrement' in French). The main objective of social enterprise is not profit maximisation, but rather to meet relevant social needs in an economically sustainable way. According to LEED, typical characteristics include the continuous production of goods and services; autonomy; economic risk; an explicit aim to benefit the community; a decision making power not based on capital ownership; a limited profit distribution; and often a democratic governance structure with multi-stakeholder participation.

Clearly some of these elements make this approach well-suited for integration into a community development model. Indeed, some positive outcomes of this model when applied in the local context were found to include a reduction in legal costs due to the establishment of trust with customers; the spread of beneficial effects to the community at large; the creation of local employment; and  greater sustainability in the long term since production objectives are entrenched locally and adapted to local needs. The LEED publication highlights this point:

Since most groups of stakeholders are embedded at the local level, social enterprises mainly meet localised needs. This way, they are able to increase social welfare provision at the local level through action which increases income and employment, and promotes redistributive activities. Because of the embeddedness of personal linkages, the satisfaction of localised needs and of the asset lock, the activities undertaken by social enterprises are often relatively immobile. Hence they represent a more rooted and permanent source of development, which are less at risk of delocalisation compared to traditional manufacturing activities for instance. 

In this way, social enterprises can help develop local resources and promote an endogenously driven model of local development.

LEED analysis also finds that social enterprises have generally produced positive results by creating local wealth and increasing individual and collective well-being. The book notes that an increasing trend towards such models will partly be due to the effects of the economic crisis, "which has showed the world the negative consequences of reckless speculation and, more generally of an economy overly based on the financial sector." But the book notes that over and above this, the values promoted by social entrepreneurship are likely to become increasingly shared: the centrality of the human being in economic undertakings; a sense of responsibility towards society; and the realisation of collective well-being as an objective (and not as a 'positive externality').

The analysis goes on to explore the ways various governments have tweaked the national policy framework to support these emerging entities. While this level of detail is beyond the scope of this post, it is nevertheless useful, from my perspective, to think about the role of government in supporting such local initiatives.

During the roundtable discussion, some elements that were mentioned as issues to address to help facilitate youth entrepreneurship included ensuring youth had access to relevant education. This could imply rethinking our education models, which many perceived as training youth to get accepted into university courses, and not necessarily preparing them to embark on a path of developing their talents and putting them to use for the benefit of themselves and society. Others mentioned the need for access to finance, as well as creating the right enabling conditions - getting rid of the cumbersome red tape that surrounds start-ups in places like France, and moving towards what many felt was a more inviting model - that of the US, where tax incentives encourage entrepreneurship.

The brocante today also made me think how, quite simply, at the local level, the council could also supply a place, and publicity - much like it does for the brocante - to entrench this type of local exchange within the culture of the neighbourhood. At the very least this approach could serve as a launching pad for motivated youth, complemented by national policies that enable people to easily formalise such endeavours. This could encourage youth to try things with little risk, and take away the burden of them having to find a market straight up, and finding ways then to reach this market. Granted the approach might seem old-fashioned, and even limiting, next to the world we can connect to via the internet. But today's visit reminded me that such local exchange still works (and evidently the different approaches don't need to be mutually exclusive).

The market, then, is a place of meeting that underpins community. The brocante brought people together from all different parts of the neighbourhood. It made me realise the way that exchange always has, and always will, bring people together. When embedded locally, this serves even to reinforce the bonds between neighbours. And, if used in more innovative ways, all that talent left untapped can find a way to be put to use, to reach others. Such spaces can also be used for service to the community, including through fundraiser endeavours (often youth who participate in our community building efforts come up with great fundraising ideas but lack a place to execute them without violating a law!)

The extent of society's responsibility to ensure the provision of adequate employment becomes evident when we contemplate the importance of having a profession. In the Baha'i teachings, work is seen not only as a means to earn a livelihood, and not only as a means to contribute to the betterment of society, but also as a means of worshipping God. What a tragedy then we are faced with as youth unemployment continues to escalate, as those who desire to embark on a meaningful path of service through their professions, find no space in which to fulfill this goal. An excerpt from the Baha'i writings reminds us of the need for better support structures to facilitate these burgeoning new models, which may just provide hopeful alternatives.

It is the duty of those who are in charge of the organization of society to give every individual the opportunity of acquiring the necessary talent in some kind of profession, and also the means of utilizing such a talent, both for its own sake and for the sake of earning the means of his livelihood... for work, especially when performed in the spirit of service, is according to Bahá’u’lláh a form of worship. It has not only a utilitarian purpose, but has a value in itself, because it draws us nearer to God, and enables us to better grasp His purpose for us in this world.

It seems to me then that if all youth have talents to apply, part of accompanying them includes helping these youth to read their locality and to think about the needs of their neighbours, and how they can use their talents to help provide them. So that as well as earning one's livelihood, one can feel a direct social benefit from such actions - whether that be through working together with others in a more horizontal governance structure or responding to local needs (or both!) The example of the market place is mainly about locally produced goods, but surely there is an even bigger market for locally produced services. These go on already in an informal way, but how to formalise them relatively simply so that individuals can get these things started properly, and to enable their service to reach more and more people? 

where paths converge

Thinking about the characteristics of these so-called "places of meeting" - places in our communities where people from all backgrounds and strata of society can come together purposefully, as equals - I thought that some of the views expressed by geographer Fi-Yu Tuan in his book, Space and Place: the Perspective of Experience, were worth reflecting on.

Tuan shares some interesting thoughts on how the way we use and design space reflects the way we conceive of society. In a chapter on architectural space and awareness, he traces how the progressively increasing fragmentation of society is reflected in the way we use space today. In past times, he notes, the social, economic and religious aspects of our lives tended to be integrated. Both the meaning and functionality of space reflected this. Those spaces which were accorded a high social value usually also had a strong religious significance. Naturally, our built environment reflected the harmony between these elements.

Tuan goes on to note how our modern world has become more compartmentalised. Not only has the economy been divorced form society, but both have been separated from religion. And just as these elements go on co-existing in different spheres, so too do the places we create reinforce this disconnection. Our sky-scrapers and business centres belong to one part of the city - fast-moving, devoid of nature, reserved for one segment of the population. While our temples, churches and mosques exist in other localities, as do our schools and hospitals. Different roads, different directions for the different compartments of our lives.

So perhaps one characteristic of these places of meeting is that we will see houses of worship side by side with local centres for education and health, with local trading, with performance spaces and the arts. So that we don't forget the interconnectedness of these aspects of our collective lives, nor the coherent nature of our identity whether we are at work, with our families, or in a place of worship. Perhaps this way of conceiving space, of conceiving our lives, will help these places to reflect the sacred nature of all these activities, and the coherence between who we are, and what we do.

Tuan also discusses society's transition from believing in an all-explaining "cosmos" to possessing "splintered beliefs and conflicting ideologies." Symptoms, we could say, of a post-modern world trying to come to terms with the challenge of breaking with the oppressive meta-narratives of the past, without having yet agreed on a contemporary source of unity and common understanding.

For Tuan, humanity's divided sentimental reaction to the sky-scraper embodies this splintered belief system. He notes how individuals can hold opposing views of the sky-scraper - for some it represents a symbol of human progress and accomplishment, for others a threat or sign of greed - this in spite of the fact that the high-rise "is the product of an age to which we all belong." As Tuan notes, there is no consensus on the meaning of the artefacts of modern culture.

But before taking this view too far, perhaps it's important to underscore that individual human sensibilities and interpretive frameworks will naturally take away different meanings from like objects and events. For centuries, the diverse palette of expression that a unique image can evoke has been the stuff poetry is made of. But going beyond these more artistic or romantic sensibilities, perhaps it could be argued that such places also stand as symbols for the institutions they are housing - whether that be the family, the government, the banks or religion. Would it be fair to say that humanity is approaching - and desires - a common understanding of the nature of these institutions and the roles they ought to play in our life? To this extent, does Tuan's perceived societal polarisation over the meaning of the skyscraper reflect a deeper discord over the character and ideology of the business world it represents? For a "place of meeting" to truly welcome all, can we expect that some agreement on these questions would be necessary?

Finally, Tuan also touches on the point of community participation in the construction of places. The last post featured a video of a talk by architect Mark Raymond, where he evoked the idea of moving towards a broader definition of architecture as the "construction of the built environment" (as opposed to the exclusive work of experts). This may seem like a new concept, but until recent times this did indeed reflect the building process, which was literally all hands on deck in the physical construction of buildings. This included sites of worship, for which construction itself was regarded as a sacred act. Naturally, going back to this approach would probably be a bit counter-productive. But this doesn't rule out a space in architecture for active participation. It's one thing for people to no longer build their own houses. But, as Tuan points out, "nor do they participate even in a token manner in the construction of public monuments."

And herein lies our problem. To be "inclusive," places of meeting need to reflect the viewpoints of those who are to use them. And though it might be helpful to come up with some over-arching principles for such places (some of the ideas mentioned here include reintegrating the different aspects of society into one place or site; seeking out common understanding as to the nature and functions of our institutions for which our buildings are constructed to house; and ensuring that planning takes place through a participatory process), ultimately the construction of these places should be undertaken in accordance with the needs and ideas of those who are going to use them. So that all have a stake in building the communities of the future, and in fashioning the environments in which such communities will flourish.

designing inclusive spaces for participation and community

A previous post, "timeless places," touched on the idea that the construction of places within the paradigm of 'modernity' appears to us as natural, as a given. As though the modern city is the inevitable outcome of humanity's progress.

In the TEDxTalks video above, architect Mark Raymond delivers a compelling talk suggesting the contrary. From the practical perspective of 'architecture', which he defines as the "construction of the built environment" (and not as specialised knowledge reserved for experts, setting the stage for his more participatory vision of society), Raymond reflects on the values underpinning the ways that we create and use space within this paradigm of modernity, and the impact these choices have upon society.

Raymond feels that the city planning ethos that saturates government priorities everywhere in their quest for 'modernisation' (high rise developments, shopping malls, highways...) undermines the city's capacity to accommodate broad social interaction:

Those types of buildings, while they work for segments of society, don't work for everybody. They're not equitable.

For Raymond, this lack of equity comes down to a question of access. As he points out, getting jobs in those high-rise developments requires access to a certain level of education and often, by default, to adequate resources, just as access to shopping malls hinges on access to a disposable income. According to Raymond, these urban design choices - far from being the inevitable solution to a sprawling, out-of-control megalopolis - are made to privilege economic profit over social benefit, the latter of which would likely result in more construction of places like schools, parks or pedestrian friendly streets.

As for the impact of these choices, Raymond sees them as leading to the increased polarisation of society, a society divided into isolated pockets of activity, access to which depends on means.

So, if we really are serious about the need for 'places of meeting' which can accommodate everyone, not just segments of society, what role can architecture play in creating spaces that encourage interaction and a sense of community?

Raymond rightly points out that design alone cannot overcome the various forces at play in the increase of this polarisation. Nevertheless, he does see value in using architecture to address the conditions within which people live, whereby the design of places within which all members of society can participate could contribute to the creation of more equitable societies.

Thus as co-creators of the spaces we live in, we should give some thought to determining the kinds of usage that would privilege community building - Raymond suggests spaces for children to play with others, spaces for performance, spaces for people to do things they like to do collectively, or spaces for reflection. We could also add spaces for learning, spaces for worship, spaces for sports activities, or spaces for gardening. In short, places of meeting where people can come together, and advance together.

For Raymond, this implies breaking down barriers - removing the stigma around income levels, race, and where one lives. So that these spaces demonstrate an inclusive society. To do that, people need to feel included - we need to design spaces with everyone in mind. But more than that, we need to design spaces modelled on the types of communities that we want. These are as much questions of design as they are questions about the very nature of community. What kinds of activities would we do together? What would define the nature of our relationships? And what kinds of spaces would promote these fruitful interactions?

These are essentially Raymond's questions, from the perspective of the architecture of our cities. And they are perhaps most powerful because simply asking them implies that we have a choice in the characteristics of our urban spaces, which ultimately reflect how we as a community see ourselves, and what we see ourselves as doing together.

timeless places

"Let everyone look at the space around them. What do they see? Do they see time? They live time, after all; they are in time. Yet all anyone sees is movements. In nature, time is apprehended within space - in the very heart of space: the hour of the day, the season, the elevation of the sun above the horizon, the position of the moon and stars in the heavens, the cold and the heat, the age of each natural being, and so on. Until nature became localised in underdevelopment, each place showed its age and, like a tree trunk, bore the mark of the years it had taken to grow. Time was thus inscribed in space, and natural space was merely the lyrical and tragic script of natural time ... With the advent of modernity time has vanished from social space. It is recorded solely on measuring-instruments, on clocks, that are as isolated and functionally specialised as this time itself."

As I read this passage from French sociologist Henri Lefebvre, I found myself a little taken aback by the significance of this claim - have our modern cities, our urban lifestyles, uprooted us from temporal reality, transporting us into a sort of timelessness?  

Maybe what Lefebvre is really talking about is our shared sense of history. With the erasure of time, a place becomes ahistorical. In our modern cities, nothing is built to last. Everything can be built anew. Buildings are here today and gone tomorrow. Local businesses open up and then close back down. So that any traces of the past can simply become lost along with the memories of passing generations. As its residents, we rarely question how a place came to be. Places just are. The paradigm of modernity within which we live becomes invisible, appearing to us not as a choice, not as one of many possible models that was selected (or imposed) among others, but as an inevitability. 

What are the implications of these ideas for community building within a neighbourhood? 

A first consideration might be a community's sense of ownership. If collectively we do not feel intertwined with the history of a place, does it affect the way we conceive of our role in the development of its future? 

Another consideration might concern our sense of progress. If we cannot conceive of place as existing in time, how can we conceptualise where it stands on a path of an ever-advancing civilisation? Perhaps this is one of the effects that the shift towards a more consumerist society has had on the places within which we live. Materialism writes its own histories, based on its notions of who we are and what our purpose in life should be. The consumerist motor that drives the development of our cities forward propels us to look ahead, towards infinite novel possibilities, but with little sense of direction nor purpose. 

This leads to yet another consideration - our sense of responsibility towards our planet. In promoting an urban design that personifies humanity's triumph over nature, modernity is cutting us off from the natural world. A rampantly growing materialism has built over it, covering up the destruction of our planet being left in its wake (behind smooth surfaces, long roads and towering edifices).

How does this all affect our sense of oneness with our planet, as beings wound up in a common fate with each other and with the world?

The consumerist credo underpinning the very structures of our modern society has taught us to expect whatever we want, whenever we want it. Even our food is no longer bound by the seasonal conditions of a given place. Have seasons, too, lost their meaning, now that we no longer live according to nature's rhythm? Is it thus surprising that our collective sense of responsibility towards the nature we have blindly inherited is diminishing? That, in pursuit of modernity, our actions wreak havoc on a planet whose greatest assets are increasingly hidden from our eyes? How to recover this sense of oneness, how to rekindle an organic connection with place, while still embarking on a course of progress?

A final consideration is the following perspective on the value of history, taken from the Baha'i publication, The Century of Light.

History is a powerful instrument. At its best, it provides a perspective on the past and casts a light on the future. It populates human consciousness with heroes, saints and martyrs whose example awakens in everyone touched by it capacities they had not imagined they possessed. It helps make sense of the world and of human experience. It inspires, consoles and enlightens. It enriches life. In the great body of literature and legend that it has left to humanity, history's hand can be seen at work shaping much of the course of civilisation - in the legends that have inspired the ideals of every people since the dawn of recorded time... 

To feel engaged in a process, to perceive humanity as being on a path of progress, perhaps we need to feel that we are part of its shared history. For places, real places, just as much as people, are inscribed with the stories of how we got to where we are - stories of heroism and triumph; stories - often gone untold - of humanity's nobility, of its potential. Stories that illustrate our oneness. And perhaps within these stories lie vital clues to where we are going, as well as signs of what we care about.

Is there a feeling that such features of place are missing from our current urban models? And, to return to the original question, what are some implications of these ideas on community building processes within a neighbourhood? 

Would love to hear any thoughts :) 

places of meeting

One hundred years ago, Abdu'l-Baha, then head of the Baha'i Faith, expressed a wish "that humanity might find a place of meeting."

A wish so deceptively simple, yet a glance in any direction, in any part of the world, proves that humanity is still in want of such a place. Boulevards and "ghettos" divide us geographically just as mindsets and social strata divide us both conceptually and in terms of the opportunities available to us. The places we construct reflect our choices about the world we want to live in, yet so few of us have a say in their design. And so we find ourselves clunkily adjusting to the ways of a world in which it is hard to imagine the emergence of this meeting place for all of humanity, where it's often hard to even get to really know our neighbours, where there are spaces that we avoid because we don't feel like we'd be welcome there, where fear and prejudice ostracise entire populations, and where we've come to learn to value our homes based solely on their financial worth rather than the role they could play in advancing the life of our communities.

We might start off thinking that the concept of place is straightforward. However, it's in thinking about the places that we as humanity inhabit that we can start to pose much larger questions about the way we choose to organise society and how this both reflects and shapes the nature of the relationships between us all. How does the way we use and conceive of a place shape the character of the life of a community? And their hopes and aspirations? Who should be the 'architects' of these places? By what means? Based on which principles? Using what kinds of approaches? What would be some of the characteristics of a place where all of humanity could meet as equals?

These questions are as much about urban planning as they are about the very social fabric of our world. And these are some of the questions that this blog will explore, drawing on principles from the Baha'i Faith about the oneness of humanity, on different thinkers on place and space, and on this blogger's experiences of community building in my neighbourhood.

For the realisation of the oneness of humanity in practice, not just in theory, requires a meeting point. Common understanding can only be reached if diverse people from all walks of life can come together, in a spirit of harmony, to share moments of their lives, and to exchange perspectives, in the hope of finding convergence, not conflict, among their different points of view, based on common aspirations for humanity's prosperity, and on those elements of our human nature that bind us all together.

We don't need to go out in search of these places. We can build them together, to make manifest the world that we wish for right here, in our living rooms, in our parks, in our local markets. Just what capacities, tools and materials we will need in order to do so will also form the substance of these reflections, and I hope to learn a lot from others who also want to try and build them.

Places live in our hearts as much as we live in them. That's not me being nostalgic, but rather a reflection on  how they really are a part of us. We can't exist without a place to exist in. So surely we must have some ideas about what we want those places to be like.