Public Spaces:
The Architecture of
Supervised Freedom
By R.L. Kumar
What
we know as public spaces today, are largely spaces of supervised freedom.
Roads, parks, capitols, beaches, zoological/botanical sanctuaries are
all public spaces which, in their design and intent, guarantee the freedom
of some while denying the freedom of others. This is the first fact
one must recognize. One of the well-known icons of modern public space,
the highway road was built not by laws/forces of free competition. In
the US, the auto giants systematically bought up and dismantled the
rail and streetcar networks making such travel unviable. The federal
government then built the super highway networks with public funds forcing
the automobile culture that is now exported worldwide (Roads, Douglas
Lummis, Dictionary for the 21st Century, forthcoming). It is also a
fact that the vitality and relevance of these spaces often arise from
uses contrary to their designed/designated intent. For instance, while
the Indian state designed the boat club lawns in Delhi as a cordon sanitaire
around the Parliament, trade unions, peasant organizations and other
movements of grieving people frequently turn that into a site for staging
their protests. While the colonial regime designed railways as an infrastructure
for ensuring the mobility of commodities and incidentally people, Gandhi
profoundly altered the meaning of such a public infrastructure by making
ticket less travel a popular symbol of protest. Roads are not merely
the means of automotive mobility; they are the sites of marches, barricades,
padayatras and dharnas. In this sense, to talk about public spaces as
an architectural project is also to be aware of the politics involved
in their actual and potential use. To understand the creation and production
of public spaces in modern societies, we must contend with at least
three things: the culture of democracy, the metropolitan city with its
built in fear of crowds and the politics of totalitarian planning.
The Insecure Capitol:
The public space par excel lance of our times is the Capitol Complex,
the symbolic seat of power and authority of the nation state. According
to Lawrence Vale " There is in all probability, no building or
building complex that can be considered public in as many different
senses as a capitol. They are public owned, constructed with public
funds, and house publicly funded institutions; they are places to gather
with the public and to make public statements; and they are expected
to represent the public interest. They are even, in theory much more
than in practice, supposed to be open to the public" (Architecture
Power and National Identity, Yale University press, 1992). The irony
that most capitols are least likely to be under public control or least
amenable to public access is not lost on Vale. Architecturally, most
capitols, Vale adds, are designed with a cordon sanitaire around them.
The limits start with the very location that is usually not in a crowded
or densely populated part of the city and the complex is saturated with
lawns, fences, guard posts and in the last few decades filled with massive
hardware and 'software' for security and surveillance. The persons and
the places that are supposed to represent people and their land are
invariably, in our times, most heavily guarded from precisely what they
are supposed to represent. It is a fact of our political life that heads
of state usually address the 'public' from the safe confines of a bulletproof
enclosure or in front of a secure TV camera.
While there are of many reasons
for this state of affairs which may not be directly related to the design
of the capitol, the paradox lies in the fact that these are by definition,
intent and therefore design, Public spaces marking a particular culture
of government (democracy) and a specific kind of political subjectivity
(citizenship) emblematic of nation state building in our times. This
symbolism of monumentality is at the heart of nation building and attempts
to create a 'national culture'. Capitols built in the modern era, are
striking in their contrast to the republican values of equality and
democracy they are supposed to reflect. They are very different from
the palaces of monarchs of the past. For instance, the Vidhana Soudha
(legislative assembly of Karnataka) is far more formidable, intimidating
and monumental than the modest palace of Tipu Sultan. Similarly some
other public spaces in free India are far less 'public friendly' than
their colonial predecessors. The colonial prisons of the early 19th
century were largely more accessible to the 'public'. Their courtyards
teemed with various hawkers and vegetable sellers every morning while
the inmates freely haggled and purchased their daily necessities (Subaltern
Studies). Something like this would be unthinkable in today's context,
especially when prison building is one of the fastest growing investment
opportunities for global capital. Monumental, forbidding and intimidating
architecture therefore is a tool of governing perfectly suited to serve
the imperatives of impersonal statecraft. And few things can be more
impersonal than the order of the city, in both senses of the term: as
regularity and regulation. This order is the central preoccupation of
another modern tradition: Planning.
The Totalitarian Plan:
Urban planning, an idea invented in the 19th century in Europe, has
proved to be, most insidious and enduring. The invention of the 'economy'
and the discovery of the idea of 'population', in the 18th century make
'urban planning' possible (Planning: Arturo Escobar, Development Dictionary,
Orient Longman, 1992). The idea of a 'diseased city' with its industrial
smoke stacks, overcrowded with uprooted peasants waiting to be retooled
as wage labor, streets overflowing with garbage and waste is the central
concern of town planning (urban planning is a more with-it phrase).
But two centuries of town planning world over has seldom questioned
the wisdom of industrial development itself. Few question the spread
of rampant tourism is say Ooty or Darjeeling; or the unbelievable pollution
of 'chemical' towns like Tirupur. Instead, most lament the lack of 'proper
planning' in these places. The city for the town planner is an object
to be framed within a grid of regulated traffic and hygiene while being
mostly unconcerned with equity, justice and culture. In this exercise,
modern planning has found political democracy to be a major constraint.
Le Corbusier's core principles of urbanism were, for instance, the death
of the street and the Plan as Dictator. His model of rational planning
was the factory, which stood far above the 'disorderly' chaotic city
street and 'jumbled' residences. The factory for him embodies the core
principles of urban planning, and the ideal worker embodies the citizen-subject
of his planned space where " they accept (to) manage themselves
like a colony of worker-bees: (with) order, regularity, punctuality,
justice and paternalism" (James Scott, Seeing Like a State; Yale
Univ Press, 1998). Scott's argument is wide-ranging and formidable.
He shows how, the annual census, the permanent fixing of surnames, the
standardization of measures, the cadastral surveys, the clearing of
crowded cities, widening and beautification of roads, the planning and
clearing of forests, every single practice of modern planning had but
one goal: improving the legibility, predictability and the control of
diverse practices by which people lived, produced and transmitted life
and knowledge. It is to this 'enlightenment' spirit that urban planning
belongs. It is in this crucible of vanishing customs and emerging order
that our current notions of Public Spaces are born
The City has its order
and the Village its custom: Javanese Proverb
This proverb serves Scott well in describing the process/politics of
urbanization. The association of the term 'public' with city life and
metropolitan culture is not easy to shake off. After all the word civilization
itself means the history of cities! While the relationship between the
village and the city is too complex to be handled here, in our world
it has become a matter of essential opposition. To recall Gandhi's famous
words, India does live in her villages, but we might add that her destiny
is almost fatally tied to her cities. It is the anxieties and fears
of the city that largely inform the Architecture of public spaces. Who
ever heard of an 'Architecture of the village square'? What we hear
frequently is mostly about regulating public parks, clearing pavements
and widening bus terminals. If urban planning aims to transform custom
into order, in the late 20th century it has found solid support for
this from the ideology of environmentalism and conservation.
Anand Patwardhan's path breaking
film Bombay Hamara Shehar in the 80's, posed dramatically the politics
of public spaces like the pavement and the street. Are pavements for
walking your dog and jogging or are they for those who driven from the
village, arrive in the city to only live on its pavements? Is urban
space to be reserved first for parks, sanctuaries and industrial expansion
or for providing homes for the homeless? These were the polemical questions
it dealt with. Two decades later, a vague but discernible consensus
seems to be emerging among the elite and the English media. This consensus
can be gauged by the strident noises made by the conservation movement
which has found support in the new 'judicial activism' that seem to
fascinate many Judges these days. The general apathy towards slums that
are cleared is matched by the strident empathy to save/restore dying
lakes and old buildings (not to mention dogs, cats and horses). Janaki
Nair points to the increasing privatization of public spaces like the
Cubbon park in Bangalore where gates and fences have been installed
with a view of making this park more jogger friendly and keeping a 'plebian'
culture at bay (Past Perfect: Architecture and Public Life in Bangalore,
Forthcoming in the Journal of Asian Studies). If Nair saw a totalitarian
mindset in this, she is right. Hitler did justify his autobahn construction
by saying that all strategic roads in history were built by tyrants.
He disliked the humble path created by custom and use because they 'wind
like processions and waste everybody's time' (Lummis).
Nair also cites an interesting
incident that is of relevance here. Bangalore has for a long time, had
its own version of 'Hyde Park', the famous space of supervised protest
in London. It is a corner of the Legislative assembly building that
over the years has become the favorite spot for agitating or protesting
groups. Fasts, dharnas and various demonstrations take place here. In
an attempt to make this place truly and properly supervised, the secretary
of the Department of Environment proposed in 1997 that this be turned
into a sort of 'speaker's corner' reserved only for speakers of 'green
issues'. Not surprisingly this idea found enthusiastic support from
the five star hotel Windsor Manor, which even offered to serve tea on
such occasions. Along with privatization, the new culture of sponsoring
everything from parks, traffic circles/islands to even police vehicles
itself, points to the increasing insecurity of the elite and the powers
that be. It points towards a republic in search of a public.