Tag Archives: La Defense

The rules for changing rules

Paul Romer presents his solution to the problem of underdevelopment in this TED video.

Stanford economist Paul Romer believes in the power of ideas. He first studied how to speed up the discovery and implementation of new technologies. But to address the big problems we’ll face this century — insecurity, harm to the environment, global poverty —  new technologies will not be enough. We must also speed up the discovery and implementation of new rules, of new ideas about how people interact.

Throughout human history, big improvements in systems of rules took place when new governments entered the scene. In today’s world, this process has been largely shut down. To bring it back to life, Romer proposes that we create new cities where people can go to escape from bad rules and opt in to new and better ones. With better rules, people can be safe, self-interest can protect the environment, and investment can bring families all the resources that the modern world has to offer.

Paul Romer profile

Another, much longer presentation was made at the Long Now foundation.

As he sees it the problem of urban and economic development is not the bad rules. Most people and leaders understand that they are bad rules. The problem is that the system of government, the application of the rules, traps us in them. And so for example, if the prime minister of some derelict African state attempts to fix rules on the electrical industry, he will have to fight opposition from the many different people whose interests are affected by this change. Unless he is an all-powerful man, he is set to fail. This is a well-known problem, and the British have even turned the practice of bureaucrats manipulating politicians into doing the opposite of what they wanted to do into high comedy.

Romer says that the solution to the problem of bad rules is not to go into government but to create new governments, implying that processes of government have their own life and result in good or bad rules. While some leaders and communities may not be able to beat the system of government, they can create new ones at the margins. Romer proposes to develop, in effect, city-states all over the world where there currently is nothing, and populate them with settlers looking to build a new life.

People criticize me for proposing changes that they believe to be impossible and unrealistic. This may be true if we consider preserving the planning system to be the most important objective. And perhaps some of these people simply consider anything but the established system to be inconceivable. Even in this otherwise positive article about slums, you find a quote such as this one:

There are reasonable objections to titling. Is it fair for those who seized government land—or, worse, someone else’s private property—to be rewarded with a property title? Nor is ownership easy to disentangle. “How do you allocate titles within the dense fabric of Rocinha or Kibera?” Neuwirth writes. “Who should get title to each parcel? The family that built the house? The woman who bought it from them? The tenants who rent there? The man who owns his two-story home but sold his roof rights to a friend, who built two stories and sold his roof rights to someone to build an additional two stories?”

After praising slums for their ability to generate economic opportunities, they are denounced for not fitting into the conventional model of property rights. Yet it is precisely the use of more natural methods of property allocation that gives slums their organic morphology. I observed the same narrow-sightedness when researching my thesis on La Défense. The one defining characteristic of the project was that it was exempt from the national planning system and its rules, creating a completely open-ended area. No one working on the project could tell me that this was the reason for its success, neither did the records they kept acknowledge it. The only man who had understood this and written about it was Rem Koolhaas.

Just like we can’t make the organic morphology of slums fit into the modern rules of property ownership, we can’t make traditionally emergent cities through the current planning system. (All efforts to produce traditional neighborhoods have so far produced only imitations of them.) Romer’s charter cities offer a way out of this system, but Romer’s proposal to try out new forms of government at the scale of the city does not recognize the fractality of urban scale. It is possible to build not simply a new city out in the open wild, but a city within an existing city, at the edge or some such, thus creating a fractal of nested cities all working on a different planning system, and in this way not just serving as a comparative experiment but also benefiting from each others’ existence into one global system. I wrote before about such a patchwork of planning systems solving problems at conflicting scales.

The most characteristic feature of an emergent urbanism is that it tries to solve problems at the smallest possible scale first (in opposition to sprawl which solves problems at the regional scale). This means that an emergent city can be created at the margin of an existing sprawling metropolis, or in any pocket available within it.

The challenge then is truly to figure out the rules for changing the rules. If a spontaneous community of people can be sufficiently organized to claim an available place and declare that it is run on a different system, then by democratic principle will it be accepted, or opposed? If the political leaders of a dying city are going to abandon a part of their territory, can they concede it to a new organization, with a form of ownership that defies conventional practice? In any case, the initiative for such a measure will have to come from outside the system.

Related posts

The Cultivation of a Spontaneous City

This is the last of a series of excerpts from my article in the upcoming issue of the International Journal of Architectural Research, about the principles of emergent urbanism. Click here for part I, The Journey to Emergence. Click here for part II, The Fundamentals of Urban Complexity.

How emergent urbanism works

In a traditional spontaneous city, 100% of the surface is initially a network structure, open land. From this surface the best paths are selected to fit the networks that are emerging, and the leftover space is progressively built upon. Starting with a completely open, fully-connected land structure, the city’s design can consist of a purely negative process by placing constraints on construction over important paths. In this way the street structure and hierarchy becomes an evolved structure that matches the history of its networks, and the placement of buildings and uses is also an evolved structure that matches the flows of movement. Over time these paths are paved and upgraded, and important junctions of paths become the central open space of the city. The central square of a spontaneous town can be explained as the remainder of a fractal process of subtraction, with the most underused part of the spatial network being removed at each additional step of feedback until no further network subtractions are possible. With the circulation of people optimized, the remaining space is augmented with street furniture specifically designed for crowds, such as benches, transit stops, billboards, kiosks and so on.

An emergent city similarly begins with a network structure, although one that is much more sophisticated than open land. In modern design the typical asphalt street produces a network that is suited particularly to automobile networks, but also has the unfortunate side-effect of cutting pedestrian networks that normally enjoy the entire surface in a spontaneous city. As a remedy these streets are equipped with sidewalks that are often narrow and unpleasant (if not dangerous) to walk, an effort at translating strict traffic control methods to the pedestrian. It is not surprising that pedestrians are so rare in modern cities, but some efforts have shown that pedestrian networks can emerge from modern design. One example is the three-story deck of the La Défense business city in Paris (shown in figure 7), which contains parking but also regional rail and subway links, as well as being an open pedestrian surface. At the ends of this network structure a generative process of spontaneous development creates the actual networks of the city. As evidenced by the crowds present on that surface and the abundance of neighborhood shops the pedestrian networks function quite well. What is more surprising is that the automobile networks are underused and some parking structures empty, despite the neighborhood having been conceived for the automobile.

Figure 7

Figure 7. The “pedestrian slab” style of design was blamed for the failure of modernist urban planning projects, but at La Défense the slab is a working structure. The developer adopted spontaneous building development instead of applying the complete architectural plan, enabling the formation of a dense local economy.

Because of the high costs and other complexities involved in producing networks for modern transportation systems it is not possible to practice a purely negative and subtractive process of street formation. However the network structure must still be an evolved structure that is produced with feedback from lot development instead of building an entire grid before it has been decided what size of lot is needed. Most importantly all forms of movement must be in balance in the street design so that one type of network structure does not cut another and prevent the network formation process. (Salingaros, 1998)

The cultivation of a spontaneous city

Once a network structure is in place the process of network formation can begin.

Wiki systems have shown that simple freedom to create does not necessarily produce networks unless there also exists a simple interface to this network. The World Wide Web provided a system of linked websites that could spontaneously produce an encyclopedia for many years before the Wikipedia system catalyzed the distributed knowledge of millions of people into an exponentially growing and internally coherent system. The creation of crowd-catalyzing systems has since been named “crowdsourcing.” Translating crowdsourcing principles to planning processes, Alexander described in The Oregon Experiment how an institution could directly support the spontaneous development of its city by providing designers and managers to assist individuals and realize the program that the individual users have in mind. (Alexander, 1975)

With the initiative for developing new building programs left deliberately undefined and in the hands of the individuals and organizations that develop the socio-economic networks of the city, there remains the issue of producing a geometrically coherent landscape that is harmonious and distinctive. This is accomplished with shared generative processes, (Alexander, 2004) and particularly the nesting of generative processes into one another (also known as a shape grammar or form language), as shown in figure 8.  No matter what configurations of space are required by any individual building program, if this configuration is realized physically by the same building process as for any other random configuration then the two realized buildings will share symmetric properties and the result will be a harmonious geometric order. This has been employed in many instances by the regulation of construction materials, which creates a geometric order at the scale of texture, but it also applies for any other scale of geometry, as evidenced by the geometric order created by the advertisements in Times Square.

Figure 8

Figure 8. Three volumes are randomly defined in space without relation to each other. When a shared feedback function is applied to transform these volumes the volumes become related by these transformations. The function in this case is: 1 – Cut out the top corners to half the volume’s height, 2 – Raise the center of the roof.

By defining construction processes instead of fixed building designs it is possible to plan for future growth without eliminating spontaneous growth and feedback. A developer that is initiating a program of emergent urbanism can therefore prepare for construction in advance of any projects having been determined. Building high-technology structures is a complex art that requires significant expertise and a skilled workforce. The developer that creates adaptive building processes that can be used to generate and realize building plans easily and rapidly will provide the same spontaneity as squatter settlements achieve.

As evidenced by the popularity of historic towns of Europe and particularly the Mediterranean as tourist destinations there is enormous demand for and profit to be made from cities that adopt the geometry of emergent cities. For this to work however the development and banking industries must be persuaded of the effectiveness of process design as opposed to master planning, and the municipal authorities must be willing to approve urban design with no fixed configuration. (Alexander, 2004) Political issues also create a significant obstacle. The long approval processes that one must go through to develop a new city or neighborhood have significantly increased the length of the feedback loops and favored large-scale development as well as made small communities less competitive. Even when long review or public consultation processes can be avoided, a development has to comply with weighty subdivision and building codes that consume time to absorb and understand, and in so doing contribute to lengthening the feedback loops and making the urban tissue less adaptive and less sustainable.

References

Alexander, Christopher (1975). The Oregon Experiment, Oxford University Press, USA
Alexander, Christopher (2004). The Process of Creating Life, The Nature of Order Vol. 2, Center for Environmental Structure
Salingaros, Nikos (1998). ‘Theory of the Urban Web’, Journal of Urban Design, vol. 3, also in Chapter 1 of PRINCIPLES OF URBAN STRUCTURE, Techne Press, Amsterdam, Holland, 2005.

A conversation about the geometry of nowhere

In response to my last article, Bruce Liedstrand of Community Design Strategies in Paris writes,

I read with interest your essay on The Geometry of Nowhere because I divide my time between Paris and Silicon Valley (the site of your Cupertino Target store example). After re-reading the essay, I am puzzled. I hear your frustration with narrow sidewalks, but I am lost in understanding your concept of “place”.

My experience has been that a “place” is created by spatial enclosure, the use of adjacent buildings to enclose and shape the space into a comfortable “place”.  Paris is strong on spatial enclosure. To me it seems almost as if Paris started as a solid mass and that the boulevards were carved out of the mass by broad blades and the narrower streets (“rues”) by finer blades. Wherever I am in Paris I feel comfortably inside a good place.

Your essay seems to indicate that “place” exists without any enclosure by buildings. That, indeed, it can exist on the outside edge of buildings rather than inside a group of buildings. Is that what you intend?

I am puzzled also by your discussion of the Cupertino Target store, which I have personally visited. (Ed note: What are the odds?) When I look at your illustration of your changes, I don’t see any “place”. What I see new is open spaces outside buildings from which cars have apparently been excluded. Do you intend to say that exclusion of cars is the key to converting undifferentiated open space into a good “place”? What is it about these new open spaces around the store that would make them comfortable for people to linger in?

Perhaps I am reading your essay wrong? Can you please point me in the right direction?

Thanks.

Enclosure creates a room, but it’s not sufficient to create a place. You can see this in Paris, where some of the best places in the city are not enclosed, for example along the Seine, or the Luxembourg garden. And the most enclosed places, like Place Vendôme, are not very interesting.

To get a good understanding of the relative impact of enclosure and open space on place, all we have to do is take a long walk along the axe historique. Start at Place de la Concorde, which was about 50% sidewalk 50% free space when it was created and is not enclosed. All the free space was converted to road and now it is perilous to get across, but still a place. Walk down to Rond-Point de l’Élysée through a wood with substantial open space to walk across. I don’t know if that counts as enclosure, but it’s a good place. Then you have the model of place, the Avenue des Champs-Élysées with its straight-aligned buildings, that is also a place with 50% sidewalk and 50% road. And it is a major road, 10 lanes of traffic, but that doesn’t really interfere with it as a place because there is little reason to cross the road, and it can be done in two steps thanks to traffic islands.

Once you’re up the hill and you go across the monster Place de l’Étoile (horrible place, all cars driving maniacally so that pedestrians have to cross in underground passages), you end up on Avenue de la Grande Armée, which is morphologically identical to the previous avenue except that some of its space is taken by parking lots. That means the ratio of sidewalk to road is much less than 50/50. It’s also much less crowded and much less attractive than the previous avenue, but it still works.

After you get across Porte Maillot to Avenue Charles de Gaulle in Neuilly, then you find the same buildings with the same alignments and the same enclosure as the two previous avenues, except this time the space has been traffic-engineered to hell, combined with speed cameras to dissuade speeding. What space there was on Grande Armée has been cut even further, and the result is a dead street on what is a major business center of the city.

Finally cross the bridge and climb your way up to the Parvis de La Défense, where you will find that the buildings are modern and completely random, but the space is fully open to people and always full of people. (Even on Sundays!) I interviewed the master planner for the northern expansion, and he said the developer of La Défense did not agree to build the 25m wide pedestrian bridge he had designed to connect the site to the main place. After their small “passerelle” failed they backed down and built the full bridge, and it works, always full of people.

So there you have it, the closest thing to a controlled experiment on place and enclosure. Enclosure turns out to be irrelevant.

Have a nice walk.

Do you really find La Defense a pleasant place?  For me, it is utterly placeless – one of the worst locations in Paris?

If you have extra time on a pleasant afternoon, would you really rather spend it sitting in the open space of La Defense than in my neighborhood park?

p1010675_4

La Défense is a business place, and it works at what it is. But compared to Avenue Charles de Gaulle, which is another business place, and which has the same architecture and alignments as the rest of Paris, it is a much better place.

Can you say this is not a good place?

Look at all the people. They’re not locked up in their offices. The neighborhood is set up so you can go straight to your office to the metro using tunnels, but when I was there I always preferred taking a detour on the surface. Take my word for it, people even go there on the weekends to teach their kids how to ride bikes and roller-skate. They don’t care that the buildings aren’t aligned.

What I am asking with my article is how can we reduce and remove sprawl without going through an expensive process of total demolition for which we won’t have the money anymore? We don’t have the choice of your small neighborhood park. A place and a park are very different things anyway. Cities existed for centuries without parks, but never without place. If we reintroduce place in sprawl cities, that means shops that rely on place to survive don’t have to open up in the mall anymore, they can do business anywhere because the entire city is a mall (one of the first things I realized about Paris). Then your city starts to grow around place instead of around roads, and people have a reason to linger.

Yes, for me it is not at all a good place in the photo or in personal experience.  People are dwarfed by the size of the space (in the photo, the space is almost empty) and it is not comfortable.  One can look at the buildings as perhaps interesting objects, depending on one’s taste, but it certainly is not a place I would linger in or return to regularly if I didn’t work there.Let’s accept that we disagree, vigorously, about whether La Defense is a good place.  But what, in your view, makes a good place.  So far I hear you favor an absence of cars and openness?  Is that right?  Is that all, or can you tell me more?

And what would be good about your redesigned Target store?

I didn’t redesign the Target store, I left it there as a necessity of the context, and the people at La Défense aren’t looking at the buildings. They’re a necessary part of the décor, but they’re not the reason people use the place, or any place.La Défense became a success, despite everyone’s intent, because economic conditions forced the developers to break the master plan and allow any random building to be built. Had they not done so it would be exactly like Empire State Plaza in Albany. The difference between the two is not architectural, it is socio-economic.

You do not need to remove cars to make a good place, you only need to remove the exclusivity for cars. What makes a good place is total freedom of movement for everyone, including the freedom to stop and linger. You can’t do that in traffic engineered space because you are confined between very narrow limits. They tell you how fast to go, when to stop, where to turn, it’s a nightmare, but one that we put up with to go fast.

Is an empty space out in the desert a good place because everyone can move freely?  Or are you talking about places within cities?  Is it just traffic engineered spaces that you reject?  Are you advocating a Hans Monderman approach to streets?  Are you rebelling against “confinement”, or is some broader principle involved?

I agree that the Empire State Plaza in Albany is a terrible place.  Are you saying that the only problem with it is that, unlike La Defense, the buildings are not place at random?  What do you mean by saying that the difference is “social-economic”?

Could you please write in one paragraph what you believe are the key factors in creating a good place within a city so I can understand where we might agree or disagree?

Deserts can make a good place, although there is not much desert urbanization. (Desert driving is a lot of fun nevertheless.) Open space alone does not make a place, you also need people there, and the reason that people go through any place is to participate in and generate social and economic networks. This was not done at Empire State Plaza but was done at La Défense.

The issue is at core about freedom. How much freedom of movement do I enjoy, how much freedom to grow and build do I enjoy? In a place you can walk anywhere and build anything anywhere, or just occupy the space to conduct some activity like playing hockey or learning to ride a bike. That creates networks and attracts people. In sprawl the entire space is traffic engineered. To move around you are practically on a conveyor belt, offered only a linear path, delimited speed and a select few choices. You can’t build anything because of the zoning. The choices available to you have been selected by the traffic engineers and the planners, and they only fit  their model of what they want you to do. There is no creativity possible to invent your own journey. A famous game designer once said “a game is a series of interesting choices.” What kind of choices does sprawl offer?

The one place in sprawl where people are given a shred of creativity is the mall, and that’s how people who live in sprawl spend their free time. You can go there and just hang out, inventing an activity from nothing. It’s all the place they have left.

Producing land with nested markets

The Poundbury Grid, from Streets and Patterns by Stephen Marshall

The Poundbury Grid, from Streets and Patterns by Stephen Marshall

When the modernists unleashed their program for simplifying cities, they did not limit themselves to redirecting existing institutions. Within the modernist ideology was implied the idea that transportation, open space and buildings were separate, isolated things and could therefore be made in isolation. This lead them to create entirely new institutions that operated independently. One of these was the Department of Transportation, also called Ministry of Transportation, or Délégation Départementale de l’Équipement, or somesuch. Its mission was clear: build roads, make them fast, clear away all obstacles and let’s drive. While the collapse of the modernist program in architecture swept away the building typologies they had invented and would later make room for the creation of such architectural artifacts as Poundbury, the transportation system they had devised continues to operate unchallenged. This system, it must be realized, is sprawl. It is the engine of urbanisation throughout the world. It does this by taking rural land and upgrading it, without any conscious realization of what it is doing, into urban land. The very existence of Poundbury, or any other New Urbanist development, is owed to this urbanization. Without it, it could not have any economy. It is therefore incorrect to refer to it as only a transportation system. It is a land production system, creating markets for land where there were none before.

Writer Alex Marshall (not Stephen) correctly diagnosed what was occurring in How Cities Work. In it, he identified the architects and planners of economic powerhouse Silicon Valley as being the state and federal transportation agencies, and invited New Urbanists to work for these agencies if they wanted to have an effective impact on the design of cities. While his book is an illuminating exploration of the processes for building cities and even lays the groundwork for an emergent theory of urbanism, by the middle chapters Alex Marshall seems to lose his mind and lays the blame for the urban mess on market ideology, Republicans and the almighty Libertarians. If only government authority over land was unrestricted, and the voters (I presume) realized that an urban planning system is a choice and not an inevitability, then once again real cities could be made instead of sprawl.

I appreciate his arguments in favor of making better, more informed, richer choices in how cities are planned. But the fact that the tone of his book radically shifts from cool, rational analysis about systems for urbanisation to anger and blame over restrictions imposed on government authority shows that he has disentangled one layer of confusion about cities only to expose another, even more entangled layer: that of land ownership and market creation. To see through that layer requires traveling back in history to the very beginning of the industrial age and farther.

Our ancestors in America lived almost exclusively as homesteaders and independent land owners. The appeal of migrating to the new world was the abundance of homesteadable land. At the beginning of the 19th century, places such as New York City were shipping towns of little importance relative to the agrarian economy. This was not the case in Europe, where the land was owned in very large estates by a small number of aristocratic families. The rest of the population lived upon the land as tenants. Cities also were estates, with those not owned by the aristocracy being owned either by the clergy or by corporations of merchants chartered in the middle ages. (The City of London somehow miraculously continues to operate by this system.)

The fact that Europeans and Americans had a vastly different starting point in land ownership affects the way they conceive of municipal authority. Because land estates always regulated tenants and built improvements such as roads to collect rents, Europeans will see the city as a public service and consider zoning and regulation as completely normal and legitimate. In America every man was his own land owner. Land rents, roads and zoning were imposed through the force of government upon those small land owners. Because of this, Americans see the city as a government interference and resist zoning and regulation.

The suburban dream, to own one’s house, has come to replace the American dream, to own one’s land. But the economic reality of owning a parcel of land and being a landowner are completely different. Our ancestors lived from their land, not simply on it. Their wealth came from their land. A house owner simply resides on his property, he does not live from it. His living is made from his participation in the life of the city, and he needs the roads in order to do that. Should the road to his house be blocked off, either intentionally or by natural accident, the house would become useless but he would not lose his living. A house owner is as much a tenant as his European ancestor. He rents the streets he lives from.

The relationship between transportation and land rents has been known forever. In the late 19th century railroad developers created new neighborhoods of cities by buying up isolated land, extending the railroad to it and then parcellating it into lots. The people of this new neighborhood lived from the railroad commute. The development of Los Angeles is famous for having been driven by streetcar companies expanding to new areas and profiting from the land they improved. The ownership of the streets was then transferred back to city corporations. It was moved from private to communal ownership, with all the pitfalls this implied.

Seeking to increase the value of their developments by adding a more restrictive layer of controls over the subdivisions they produce, developers have for the last few decades been creating home owners’ associations to provide for the roads and control covenants upon the private parcels of home owners. In doing so they have chosen to take an alternative course to municipal incorporation, but unfortunately the organizations have shown themselves to be draconian in their application of rules as banal as the height of lawns and in so doing compounded the reputation of suburban subdivisions as zones of conformity. The HOA is a cooperative ownership model that transforms subdivisions into structures as rigid as a condominium tower, without the material rigidity of the tower itself. If one is an advocate of the suburban subdivision in the name of freedom, this model seems to miss the mark.

It is indisputable that HOAs provide a good, environmental control, that home buyers wish to have. They are willing to give up control over their house in exchange for part control over the neighborhood. The developers are creating neighborhood value by tying their product into a system of rules, and in doing so increasing the demand for the individual homes. Developers are creating rules-constrained markets within the framework of the HOA, a cooperative of home owners who pay a rent to have the right to be part of this market. The HOA market itself exists within the market created by the road that integrates it to the productive economy, road which has almost certainly been created by a municipality or county administration. It is a market within a market, and both have their specific rules as to how land may be utilized.

Alex Marshall claims that market creation is the exclusive domain of government. I believe this is dangerously incorrect, not out of anti-government bias but because the organization of government places strict limits on the complexity of the markets that will be created, something that we both appear to agree is a major flaw of our urbanism. To show this, I will explain the history of one of the weirdest cities of Paris, the business district La Défense.

almost-utopia gare-grande-arche noeud-gordien-ii

The most peculiar aspect of the city is its organization of land. It was founded in the late 1950’s and planned in the early 60’s in the model of utopian modernism, which meant strict separation of pedestrian and vehicular traffic and rows of identical tower blocks. The master plan rapidly fell apart and was abandoned when it was realized that the companies for whom the towers were meant had no use for them in their planned shape. From that moment they were free to define what kind of tower they wanted to build, however the system of traffic separation remained. The developer proceeded to build an enormous structure (about three stories tall) over the natural ground called, roughly translated, The Slab. The Slab is the main pedestrian space that integrates all the towers into the mass transit network of metropolitan Paris and the commercial activity of the district. The centre of The Slab (seen left) turns out to be the ceiling of the gigantic mass transit station (seen middle) that distributes 150,000 people to and from their offices morning and night. The buildings at La Défense do not have any connection to land or streets, they float upon The Slab.

This project is said to be one of the flagships of the French state, but the interesting thing about this is that the state had to go around its own system of land administration in order to create it. Municipalities in France are organized around 36,600 communes whose statutes regarding urban planning and land use are strictly defined in the legislation of the administration. La Défense does not have an administration in the same sense that communes do. It was created as a national interest operation, meaning that the state, realizing that its own territorial administration system could not deal with a project of such complexity, declared a zone of territorial exception where the legislation was suspended. Instead, the land inside the zone was purchased by a developer, the EPAD, whose statutes are defined by private business law but whose majority shareholder is the state. In other words, the state had to go through the market to avoid flaws in the system of government in order to create a market unlike anything the country had seen before.

The EPAD has since operated profitably by investing in land improvements, most importantly paying to bring regional rail and metro links to the district, and selling development rights for towers that are limited by contract to certain open-ended morphologies. No one owns land there except EPAD, but private companies do own their buildings. Those buildings never could have been built had EPAD not created a market for them through the expansion of the mass transit network it paid for, and of course by building The Slab.

EPAD, an organization who was meant to last at most 20 years, celebrated its 50th anniversary this year while many people struggled with the “outlaw” nature of its existence. Proposals for reform all crash against the challenge of The Slab and how it could continue to function as a form of urbanism within the framework of standard territorial law. This territorial law is itself being questioned and most likely headed for reform, although there is no guarantee that reformed law will be competent to handle a structure of this nature. The way things are going, it’s possible that EPAD could have a longevity comparable to the City of London.

The lesson of La Défense is that for-profit enterprises can create urbanism, markets for land supported by large capital structures, provided that the law allow them to. In other economic sectors this arrangement is nothing unusual. To persuade Republicans and Libertarians of the benefit of urbanism, it suffices to make a comparison with the New York Stock Exchange company, an icon of capitalism. While the service the company provides is a means to trade stocks efficiently, this service does not come free. The NYSE occupies some valuable real estate in downtown Manhattan, and provides sophisticated computer equipment and trading services to participants. You must pay for your right to take part in the NYSE, and then obviously must pay again to buy shares. Your ability to trade shares may not be possible without the supporting capital investments of the NYSE company. The NYSE, although it creates a market, is itself competing in a bigger market, that of stock exchanges. It must be better at enabling stock trading than other stock exchanges in order to attract traders and companies, and it can itself be bought, sold, merged or spun-off as a company. The stock trades are a market that is nested within the market for stock exchanges.

For the liberal-democrat wary of such fine capitalist institutions, the work of market creation can also be done by a non-profit organization. This is what one of my favorite examples, the Wikimedia Foundation, does with its different wikis. Although the trades are free, the foundation does provide the framework for people to rapidly and easily share and structure information. A foundation which owns land could in the same way create a market for buildings by enabling its inhabitants. It is exactly such a process that Christopher Alexander described in The Oregon Experiment. By his proposal, the University of Oregon was required to provide design assistance to faculty and students who wanted to initiate building projects. This form of market would obviously put enormous power in the hands of the users and less so in those of big developers, which is the opposite of what municipal planning systems have done.

Municipal planning systems, as we have known them for the last two centuries in America, have been held up by two pillars. The grid of streets and later on the supergrid of arterials have urbanized land in a manner that favored land speculators and developers, and then the large land speculators and developers. The second pillar has been the zoning ordinance and building code, a system of bureaucratic regulations that has grown in size to the point where consultants must be hired to navigate the process. The non-professional who wants to build something in this market, if he has been lucky enough to benefit from the grid, must first understand a stack of regulations that will take him enormous effort to master. This cost evidently favors developers who have a lot to invest in building and discourages the creation of the small events, quirky house, shops and businesses, that make a city so pleasurable. Bureaucratic regulations also have the nasty side-effect of being unable to translate qualitative standards into rules, the result being a long list of quantitative regulations that produce big subdivisions, big malls and big business. The SmartCode, 60 pages long, does not improve upon this process. It makes the big subdivisions take a different shape.

Paris' 16th borough (front) and La Defense (back)

The 16th borough of Paris (front) and La Défense (back). Two different markets creating two different emergent morphologies, and different environmental qualities as well. Those are choices.

The creation of the municipal system in Europe was an act of land reform, breaking down land estates that had their origins in feudal privilege. The French communes were the product of the revolution, and the municipal corporations acts of Great Britain in the 19th century put an end to quite a few “rotten boroughs.” The end of the feudal tenure system could be justly seen as progress by Europeans, and the new powers wielded by municipalities did not exceed those wielded by the previous landlords. In America the incorporation of land into municipalities, and the transfer of ever greater powers to county governments, took place at the expense of small land owners who considered themselves independent and resisted the limitations imposed upon them by new municipal regulations, while profiting at the same time from the new markets created for their land by investment in structural improvements, most of all roads. Both processes for creating municipalities have since been the monopoly of governments, and the slow action in creating, dissolving, merging and splitting cities has caused crisis in all areas. Alex Marshall points out that state governments have the authority to create and merge municipal corporations, and should make use of this authority more often, but governments only have limited attention to devote to these issues. In the early 19th century it required an act of government to charter any business corporation. The regularization of this system allowed businesses to incorporate without going through the legislative process, and the dynamic market economy we have enjoyed since has this process as one of its foundations. For some reason it was never thought of to extend the same rights to city corporations.

In their pleas to “leave things to the market” Americans severely restricted what kind of operations municipalities could undertake, and limited their authority to take action against public problems. In doing so they did not realize what kind of market was being created, and who would benefit most from it. A municipality that does more is no less of a market than one that does less. A municipality that builds a hierarchical grid of differently-scaled streets and helps non-professionals to create their own buildings would be creating a market, and ultimately an emergent urban morphology, vastly different from what limited municipalities have been allowed to create. More restrictive rules could also create environmental quality that would raise the value of the market as a whole. The municipality could be creating a better market than it currently is if it had more freedom to act.

Inventing and organizing such a municipality will itself require a process that systems of government cannot handle. This is where things truly ought to be left to the market. Independently owned and operated cities could adapt and reorganize themselves to experiment with new forms of markets. They could merge and spin-off to meet the challenges of metropolitan scale. They could buy the land that they intend to urbanize. They could regulate the land to preserve the quality of the environment and create greater neighborhood value. They could make the immense capital investments in roads, mass transit, public squares, parks and utilities that would earn them a profit in increased rents from their markets. Finally, the disintegrated land creation institutions brought about by the modernist program could be reintegrated in cities with enough authority to employ them efficiently and productively.

Sprawl would soon after be a footnote of history, along with many other urban ills.

References

How Cities Work by Alex Marshall

Streets and Patterns by Stephen Marshall

The Oregon Experiment by Christopher Alexander

Cinderella architecture

If you ever find yourself speaking to an architect at a party, most likely the word transparency and the supposed need for it is going to come up over and over. This is a recent concern for the building arts. Modern architecture, traditionally, has been philosophically focused on honesty of materials, or the meaning of forms. Transparency is in a way a renunciation of architecture. Its purpose is to make the form of a building as unnoticeable as possible. Architecture just gets in the way, so making it unnoticeable is the best design choice. Nothing is the new something.

Glass-covered office buildings have been the norm for decades, mostly because corporations are not taken in by architectural fashion and just want regular, boring, functional floor space. The glass curtain wall dominates the office parks and central business districts the world over. The physics of light being what they are, for most of the business day the building offers nothing but a mirrored glass box to the world, or for worse buildings, repeating checkerboard or line patterns (Class II behavior in Stephen Wolfram’s categories). The Houston-style CBDs have been described as soulless and boring, But something strange happens when the sun sets. The soulless, boring cluster of glass boxes becomes a setting worthy of postcards. A glass city at night has a completely different emotional and psychological effect on its visitors, something I’ve witnessed many people express, and have felt myself.

The patterns that the interior of an office building takes are controlled by its inhabitants, and, so far as the architect who designed the thing is concerned, purely random. And what happens at night to a glass tower is that the architecture of the building, the geometry controlled by the architect, blacks out and becomes indistinguishable from the background, while the lit floors are exposed for everyone to see. This nocturnal geometric transformation we can call the phenomenon of Cinderella architecture.

That a soulless glass city becomes beautiful at night cannot be accounted for only by lighting. A parking lot is lit up at night as well, and no one feels any better about it. Instead, I believe that the phenomenon of Cinderella architecture is an example of structured chaos. The office buildings, while no longer being themselves visible, create common frames within which random events are pictured. These random events can be as simple as lights being switched on or off, and can go into deeper details such as the placement of furniture. The result, seen from far away, is a geometric pattern that is overwhelming in complexity, especially when occurring in thousands of windows over dozens of buildings.

Looking for evidence of this phenomenon, I went to Paris’ version of the Houston CBD, the La Défense office city in the first ring outside Paris, in the sunset hours of a working day. La Défense holds a reputation for having the most boring kind of corporate architecture, but even this small district benefits from the Cinderella effect. Here are some pictures that I hope will illustrate my point.

The regular day-time modern business district.

The same spot at night.

The lower floors of the building on the left are not occupied and the visual complexity of the building suffers from it.

This building was one of the first built on the site, and is one of the most obsolete, but it lights up as much as any other at night, if not more.

How can the most routine kind of modern corporate architecture be creating such complexity? The answer is that it is not the buildings that create the complexity, it is the people living in them, adapting their environment to suit their activities. What makes it beautiful is the common frame that this adaptation takes place in. The frame is the architecture, the complexity is the adaptations that people make with it.