Beyond Gated Communities [1 ed.] 0415748240, 9780415748247

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BEYOND GATED COMMUNITIES

Research on gated communities is moving away from the hard concept of a ‘gated community’ to the more fluid one of urban gating. The latter allows communities to be viewed through a new lens of soft boundaries, modern communication and networks of influence. The book, written by an international team of experts, builds on the research of Bagaeen and Uduku’s previous edited publication, Gated Communities (Routledge 2010), and relates recent events to trends in urban research, showing how the discussion has moved from privatised to newly collectivised spaces, which have been the focal point for events such as the Occupy London movement and the Arab Spring. Communities are now more mobilised and connected than ever, and Beyond Gated Communities shows how neighbourhoods can become part of a global network beyond their own gates.With chapters on Australia, Canada, Europe, South America, Asia, Africa and the Middle East, this is a truly international resource for scholars and students of urban studies interested in this dynamic, growing area of research. Samer Bagaeen is Associate Professor of Town Planning at the University of Brighton Planning School in the United Kingdom, and Visiting Professor of Planning at the Institute of Urban Economy in Lima, Peru. Ola Uduku is Reader in Architecture at Edinburgh University, where she is Programme Director of the taught MSc in Urban Strategies and Development, and teaches an interdisciplinary elective on African Cities.

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BEYOND GATED COMMUNITIES

Edited by Samer Bagaeen and Ola Uduku

First published 2015 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2015 selection and editorial material, Samer Bagaeen and Ola Uduku; individual chapters, the contributors The right of Samer Bagaeen and Ola Uduku to be identified as the authors of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloguing in Publication Data Beyond gated communities / edited by Samer Bagaeen and Ola Uduku. pages cm Includes bibliographical references and index. 1. Gated communities. 2. Communities. 3. Urbanization–Social aspects. I. Bagaeen, Samer. II. Uduku, Ola, 1963– HT169.58.B49 2015 307.77–dc23 2014048176 ISBN: 978-0-415-74824-7 (hbk) ISBN: 978-0-415-74825-4 (pbk) ISBN: 978-1-315-76597-6 (ebk) Typeset in Bembo by Out of House Publishing

This book is dedicated to both our long-suffering families, and in particular to Amera Ammari and Esme Frith, who both will have celebrated special birthdays in 2015

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CONTENTS

List of figures List of tables Notes on contributors Foreword: Gating as a variable by Saskia Sassen Acknowledgements Introduction Ola Uduku and Samer Bagaeen 1

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Beyond gated communities: urban gating, soft boundaries and networks of influence and affluence Samer Bagaeen

page ix xii xiii xviii xxi 1

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Gated communities in a changing geopolitical landscape: an exploratory genealogy of Occupy London P. Stuart Robinson

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Gating in urban Johannesburg: digging inside the social and political systems of a golf estate and an open suburb Federica Duca

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Gated communities in South Korea and the dilemma of the state Hee-Seok Kim

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Contents

5 Urban gating in Thailand: the new debates Veeramon Suwannasang 6 Gating in urban Ireland Therese Kenna, Denis Linehan,William Brady and Jonathan Hall 7 Gating in the Western Cape, South Africa: post-apartheid planning and environmental agency Manfred Spocter 8 Beyond gating: condo-ism as a way of urban life Gillad Rosen and Alan Walks

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9 Urban gating in Israel: home gating practices on kibbutzim and moshavim Guy Fayel

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10 Urban gating in Puebla, Mexico: an SOS for world solidarity and citizen empowerment Guadalupe María Milián Ávila and Michel Guenet

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11 Gating in South Africa: a gated community is a tree; a city is not Darren Nel and Karina Landman

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12 Urban gating in Chile: Chuquicamata – a corporate mining town: ‘bounded territory within a territory’ Ignacio Acosta

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Index

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FIGURES

I.1 1.1 1.2 1.3 1.4 1.5 1.6 1.7 2.1 2.2 2.3 2.4 4.1a

Osborne Foreshore (Gated) Estate, Ikoyi Island Housing at Ma’ale Adumim, Jerusalem York Terrace West, London San Borja, Lima The American embassy, Lima Housing at Gun Wharf Quays, Portsmouth Pachacamac and Santa Patricia neighbourhoods, Lima Pachacamac and Santa Patricia neighbourhoods, Lima Public relations at the Occupy camp Entrance to St Paul’s Information Tent, Occupy St Paul’s Occupy St Paul’s camp Rising arm barrier at Sinjeong Seyang Cheongmaru Apartment Complex (September 2014) 4.1b ‘No trespassing’ sign on a pedestrian path at Banpo Xii Apartment Complex (May 2011) 4.2 Map of Garak Siyeong Apartment Complex as of 1998 4.3 Redevelopment concept of Garak Siyeong Apartment Complex 4.4 District Plan of 2004, and its results in 2013 4.5 Gazebo and sitting area in AC1 (November 2013) 4.6 AC1, an urban fortress of electronic gates and elevated artificial ground (November 2013) 4.7 Attitudes of different social groups regarding the use of public space within apartment complexes 5.1 An island-like spatial form in Bangkok 5.2 Number of Bangkok GCs by district, 2013 5.3 Bangkok population change by district, average % (2005-11)

page 7 11 12 13 14 15 22 22 27 28 29 39 72 72 75 77 78 80 82 86 93 101 102

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Figures

5.4 An example of a Bangkok GC, looking from the outside 5.5 The reasons for moving into a gated community 5.6 The importance of a sense of community with other community members 5.7 SCI-2 score classified by dimension 6.1 Restricted vehicle access, Cork city, 2011 6.2 Gated laneway closure, Cork city, 2011 6.3 Location map of three interconnected gates that have privatised and closed off a residential area of Cork city 6.4 Images of three gates erected in the North Mall residential area of Cork city 7.1 Distribution of non-metropolitan gated developments by local municipality in the Western Cape 7.2 Distribution of gated developments located outside the urban edge by local municipality 7.3 Distribution of undeveloped gated developments by local municipality in the Western Cape 7.4 Gated developments in Swellendam overlaid on the Swellendam Density Plan 7.5 Distribution of retirement gated developments by local municipality in the Western Cape 8.1 A conceptual model of condo-ism 8.2 Mississauga’s rising skyline of residential condominiums 8.3 Neo-liberal urban landscapes in Toronto 9.1 A house in the residential expansion 9.2 Houses in the traditional part of a moshav 10.1 Gated communities in Puebla, 2013 10.2 Mind map 1: El Pilar gated community, Puebla, 2008 10.3 Mind map 2: Open urban space, Colonia Centro, Puebla, 2008 10.4 Entrance to the gated community of Arboledas de San Ignacio, Puebla, 2008 10.5 Puebla, a collapsed city? An example corridor, Angelópolis–Atlixcayotl, 2013 10.6 Concept plan: Puebla, a collapsed city 10.7 Later gated neighbourhoods 10.8 Lomas de Angelópolis, Puebla, 2014 10.9 Convenience store at the entrance of Los Héroes de Puebla gated community 10.10 Pedestrian corridor, Antigonas, Montpellier, 2010 11.1 Controlled entrance to Irene 11.2 Controlled entrance to Newlands 11.3 Location of four neighbourhoods in Tshwane, South Africa

102 105 105 106 121 121 124 125 134 136 137 141 143 155 158 162 174 178 185 186 187 188 189 189 190 191 194 196 209 209 210

Figures

11.4 Intersection density of Brooklyn, Irene (before and after gating), Newlands and Silver Lakes 11.5 Three types of junction (a) T-Junction; (b) X-junction and; (c) cul-de-sac 11.6 The node-gram 11.7 Cyclomatic number/km2 for Brooklyn, Irene (before and after gating), Newlands and Silver Lakes 11.8 Distance between intersections for Brooklyn, Irene, Newlands and Silver Lakes 11.9 Euclidean distance (a) and metric distance (b) between two points 11.10 Metric distance between two points in Irene before and after gating 11.11 Percentage of total surface area dedicated to recreation and educational facilities and roads within the four areas 11.12 Tshwane’s urban footprint and gated areas 11.13 The evolution of suburbia and the addition of a gated community at the extremity 11.14 Typical suburban layouts that lend themselves to urban gating 11.15 Evolution of modernistic planning in Tshwane 12.1 Aerial view of Chuquicamata

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212 213 214 215 216 216 217 218 222 222 223 223 229

TABLES

4.1 Gating features and their initiators for different types of Korean apartment complexes 5.1 SCI-2 Index 5.2 Top three reasons for moving into gated communities categorized by different level of socio-economic status 5.3 Reason comparison of three different levels of socio-economic status gated communities 5.4 Communities’ response rate, number of houses, family members and household income/month 5.5 Overall sense of community in SCI-2 score and as a percentage 5.6 A comparison of case studies’ household income/yr between Wilson-Doenges and the author 6.1 Total closures of public rights of way/year for each urban council area 8.1 Summary of major policies that have driven condominium development in Toronto 11.1 Indicators to explore the relationship between urban morphology and urban resilience within gated developments 11.2 Results from the calculations for Brooklyn, Irene, Newlands and Silver Lakes

page 73 96 104 104 104 106 106 120 159 211 220

CONTRIBUTORS

Samer Bagaeen is Associate Professor of Town Planning at the University of Brighton Planning School in the United Kingdom, and Visiting Professor of Planning at the Institute of Urban Economy in Lima, Peru. He is a graduate of University College London and holds an MBA from the Strathclyde Business School in Scotland. He was invited in 2012 into eminent Fellowship of the Royal Institution of Chartered Surveyors and in 2013 was invited to join the Academy of Urbanism as an Academician. He co-edited Gated Communities: Social Sustainability in Contemporary and Historical Gated Developments (Routledge 2010 and 2012); and contributed to Dimensions of the Sustainable City (Springer 2010). He has a research interest in the development of former military land, real estate development and tourism in the Middle East, and his publications in this field include ‘Saudi Arabia, Bahrain, United Arab Emirates and Qatar: Middle Eastern complexity and contradiction’ in G. Squires and E. Heurkens (eds) International Approaches to Real Estate Development (Routledge 2015); and ‘A tourism revolution? The case of Bahrain in the GCC’ in M. Stephenson and A. al-Hamarneh (eds) International Tourism and the Gulf Cooperation Council States (Routledge 2015). Ola Uduku is Reader in Architecture at Edinburgh University, where she is Programme Director of the taught MSc in Urban Strategies and Development, and teaches an interdisciplinary elective on African Cities. She has research interests in social infrastructure provision in urban areas, specifically for minority groups, and ‘urban gating’. Modern Movement Architecture in West and sub-Saharan Africa, and the history of school design in sub-Saharan Africa, are also themes of inquiry. She is also involved in environmental design teaching and active in environmental analysis research, specifically investigating the use of digital tools including computer modelling and ‘apps’ for environmental analysis teaching at tertiary level. She has held EU, DfID, and British Academy awards for research in these areas, and is currently working on the Alan Vaughan Richards Archive Project in Lagos, Nigeria. Aside from her collaborative editorship on this, and the previous volume Gated Communities: Social

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Sustainability in Contemporary and Historical Gated Developments (Routledge 2010 and 2012), she was a co-editor of Africa Beyond the Post-Colonial (with Zack Williams, 2004); and co-author of Social Infrastructure in Granby-Toxteth, (with Ben-Tovim, 1997). Professor Saskia Sassen is Robert S. Lynd Professor of Sociology at Columbia University and a Visiting Professor at LSE. Her research and writing focuses on globalisation (including social, economic and political dimensions), immigration, global cities (including cities and terrorism), the new networked technologies, and changes within the liberal state that result from current transnational conditions. In addition to her appointments at Columbia University, Sassen serves on several editorial boards and is an advisor to several international bodies. She is a member of the Council on Foreign Relations, and also of the National Academy of Sciences Panel on Cities. She has received a variety of awards and prizes, most recently, a Doctor honoris causa from the European Institute of Florence, in addition to others from the Universidad de Murcia, Ecole Normale Superieure (Paris), Universidad de Murcia (Spain), Ecole Normale Superieure (Paris), DePaul University (USA), University of Poitiers (France), Royal Stockholm Institute of Technology, Ghent University (Belgium), Warwick University (UK), Delft University (Netherlands). She was winner of the first Distinguished Graduate School Alumnus Award of the University of Notre Dame; and one of the four winners of the first University of Chicago Future Mentor Award covering all doctoral programmes. She has written for the Guardian, the New York Times, Le Monde Diplomatique, the International Herald Tribune, Newsweek International, Vanguardia, Clarin, and the Financial Times, among others. Peter Stuart Robinson, BA (University of Leicester), MA (Calgary), PhD (British Columbia), is Associate Professor of Political Science at UiT, The Arctic University of Norway. Building on his earlier work on decision-making in international military crises, his current interests lie in exploring the dynamics of social and political change – contemporary and historical – partly through a kind of geopolitics of global urban space. Previous publications include The Politics of International Crisis Escalation (London: I.B. Tauris 1996); ‘Individualism, Identity and Community in Globalizing Postmodern Society’ in D.  Jarvis (ed.) International Relations and the ‘Third Debate’ (Westport, Conn.: Praeger 2002: 165–90); and the entries for ‘Common Agricultural Policy’, ‘Levels of Analysis’ and ‘Mutually Assured Destruction’ in M.  Griffiths (ed.) Encyclopaedia of International Relations and Global Politics (London: Routledge 2005: 95–8, 502–5, 553–6. Robinson is also a regular contributor to the net-based film magazine Montages. Federica Duca is a PhD candidate in Sociology and Social Research at the University of Trento, Italy; and a Fellow at the Public Affairs Research Institute (PARI) in Johannesburg, South Africa. She is currently conducting research in Roodepoort on the social consequences of daily life in gated communities. She is trained in Sociology and did her BA research on gangsterism, and her MA research on residential segregation in an Italian coastal town. She has previously conducted research in South Africa on gangsterism and fear of crime in Soshanguve, near Pretoria. Her research interests include urban studies and the study of elite spaces and leisure. She conducts ethnographic research.

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Hee-Seok Kim started his study on urban planning in Paris and he is currently a PhD candidate at the Graduate School of Environmental Studies, Seoul National University. He is writing a thesis on the diagnostic of gated apartment complexes in Seoul and their impact on the lives of inhabitants (under the supervision of Professor Kwang-Joong Kim). His academic interests include urban spatial segregation, gated communities and public housing. Veeramon Suwannasang is a PhD researcher in town planning at the Bartlett School of Planning, University College London (UCL). She has an interdisciplinary background in European property development and planning (MSc, UCL, 2010) and international transportation (MSc, Cardiff University, 2007; BA, Thammasat University, 2005) which supports her interests in urban spatial structure, urban housing, urban regeneration, and sustainable urban development processes and practices. Her latest research is on the correlation between social sustainability and the built environment in Bangkok. Therese Kenna is a lecturer in Urban Geography at University College Cork (UCC), Ireland. Dr Kenna joined UCC in 2010, having previously worked at the University of Sydney, Australia. Her research interests are in the fields of urban social geography – particularly on the management, governance and privatisation of urban public space – the role of ICT and new technologies in cities; and social inclusion and exclusion in cities. Dr Kenna runs a dedicated research programme on the gating and privatisation of cities, and has published a number of peer reviewed articles on the topic of gated communities and private residential development in journals such as Geographical Research, Australian Geographer and Urban Policy and Research. Denis Linehan is a senior lecturer in Geography at University College Cork. He joined the School of Human Environment: Geography and Archaeology, at UCC, in 1999, having previously worked at the University of Swansea and the University of Lancaster. He lectures across a broad range of graduate and undergraduate modules, in areas concerned with the contemporary and historical conditions of urban life. His publications include Atlas of Cork City (CUP 2005, 2nd edition 2011), Spacing Ireland (Manchester University Press 2013) and Ordnance:  War, Architecture and Space (Ashgate 2013). During 2013 Denis also curated the exhibition ‘Lost Boys: The Territories of Youth’ at the Glucksman Gallery. William Brady is a qualified urban planner with a masters degree in Regional and Urban Planning from University College, Dublin; and holds an M.Phil [Geography] and a BA from University College Cork. William has been engaged on a wide variety of urban planning, design and transportation-related projects of various scales in both Ireland and the UK, and in both the public and private sectors. He has experience in a range of town and city centre regeneration. His research interests relate broadly to the patterns, forms and processes of social, physical and economic regeneration in Ireland’s cities, towns and villages; and to the concept of regeneration as an increasingly important part of urban strategy and local governance. Jonathan Hall has more than 30 years of experience in town and country planning and regeneration. He is a member of the Royal Town Planning Institute, holds a BA in Town and

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Country Planning from Manchester University, and an MSc from Salford University. He ran the development control service in a busy metropolitan planning authority for four years, and led the preparation of District Development Plans and Local Development Frameworks from conception, to formal public examination, to adoption. He has, during his career, also specialised in conservation and design and minerals planning. He has also worked on industrial investment strategies in the north-east of England, and housing renewal in Hull, also in England. Dr Manfred Spocter is a senior lecturer in the Department of Geography and Environmental Studies at Stellenbosch University, South Africa. He has a research interest in non-metropolitan gating, and fortification and securitisation practices and processes. Other research interests include geographies of public space privatisation, small town geographies, and golf geographies. Dr Gillad Rosen is a lecturer in Geography at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. His research focuses on housing policy, gated communities and condominiums, social justice and urban redevelopment. He is the co-author of Jerusalem the Spatial Politics of a Divided Metropolis. Dr Alan Walks is Associate Professor of urban geography and planning at the University of Toronto. His is the author of articles on urban social polarisation and inequality, gentrification and urban redevelopment, suburbanisation, place effects on voting and ideology, gated communities, housing policy, and household debt and mortgage markets. He is co-editor/ co-author of The Political Ecology of the Metropolis, and editor of The Urban Political Economy and Ecology of Automobility: Driving Cities, Driving Inequality, Driving Politics. Guy Fayel is a graduate student at the Department of Sociology and Anthropology of the University of Haifa, Israel. His research interests are urban anthropology, housing studies and gating processes. His current project involves examining questions of agency in the planning and construction of private homes in Israel. Guadalupe María Milián Ávila holds a Bachelor of Architecture, a masters, and a PhD in Urban Planning from UNAM (1993). She has been Professor at the Faculty of Architecture at Benemérita Universidad Autónoma de Puebla, Mexico, since 1980. She is a strategic planning consultant for the Regional Municipality of Vaudreuil-Soulanges County, Quebec, Canada. Her research focuses on socio-spatial segregation, gated communities and urban revitalisation in historic centres and community planning. She is currently leader of the International Research Network ‘Territorial Planning and Sustainable Management’, in which researchers from the University of Montreal and the University of Murcia in Spain are involved. Michel Guenet holds a doctorate in Geography, and is Professor of Urban Planning at the University of Montreal. As a Professor invited to the Benemérita Universidad Autónoma in Puebla, Mexico, he holds responsibility for the international network RED-PROMEP, and for the planning and management of sustainable development. His areas of research concern

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socio-spatial segregation and the analysis of gated communities in Mexico and Canada. He manages the research project of the Regional Municipality of Vaudreuil-Soulanges County, Quebec, Canada, and is a partner to the university initiative – the Incubator of the University of Montreal of Parole d’excluES – which investigates the social fight against social exclusion and poverty in Montreal. Darren Nel is an assistant lecturer at the University of Pretoria’s Department of Town and Regional Planning, where he previously earned his honours degree in Town and Regional Planning. He is currently busy with his master’s degree in Town and Regional Planning – which focuses on understanding cities as complex adaptive systems, and how and why they change. His master’s forms part of the University of Pretoria’s broader research project on Urban Resilience. Darren’s other research focus areas include urban morphology and urban gating. Karina Landman is an Associate Professor in the Department of Town and Regional Planning at the University of Pretoria. She has a background in architecture, urban design and city planning, and holds a PhD in Urban Design. Her research interests and experience relates to spatial transformation, crime prevention in the built environment, housing, and sustainable development. Other areas of research include the privatisation of urban space, services and local governance; gated communities; urban segregation; medium density mixed housing developments; and urban resilience. Ignacio Acosta is a London-based artist who was born in Valparaíso, Chile, in 1976. He is concerned with the economic and political forces that shape our landscape. He works on long-term interconnected research projects  – which involves photographic documentation using a large format view camera – as well as design, drawing and writing. Acosta is a PhD candidate at the University of Brighton. His practice-based PhD, ‘Copper Geography’, is a photographic investigation of the political geography of the Chilean-based copper mining industry. The research addresses an urgent need to develop artistic approaches to contest the impact of extractive industries on the ecologies in which they operate.

FOREWORD: GATING AS A VARIABLE

These chapters narrate the current forms of gating in a far more encompassing manner than do standard narratives about gated communities. Once gating is conceived of as a variable it can become a more complex and contradictory process, one that requires research, interpretation and debate. The first volume put together by Samer Bagaeen and Ola Uduku in 2010 brought history into the frame, signalling that gating is perhaps the more intriguing frame for understanding and conceptualising a pervasive process. In this second volume they basically explode the category of ‘gated communities’. In writing the foreword for the first book, Gated Communities: Social Sustainability in Contemporary and Historical Gated Developments, I saw gating as the emergent conceptual tool coming out of those themes being explored within the chapters. In this volume I see space-gating as yet another conceptual jump, opening up gating to more ambiguous processes whose valence may vary from the positive to the unstable in some cases. In my own work I have begun to think of what we now not-so-gently call ‘land grabs’ in the Global South, as a kind of gating executed by powerful states and powerful firms in foreign countries, and requiring extreme contractual innovations allowed by the sovereignty of state territories. The other term in play is ‘enclosures’.This is a term that had been relegated to older histories which have now re-emerged in today’s global modernity.‘Gating’ is less burdened by familiar thick past histories, and is more of a provocation when used. Both volumes represent an enormously exciting turn on what some of us thought was an exhausted concept. The work and the meaning of gating go well beyond the facticities of today’s gated communities for the top 20 per cent. The editors and authors are to be recognised as makers of expanded meanings of gating. In today’s global modernity, the work of gating a space is likely to consist of thick, localised interventions by diverse actors, who can be local or global, good or bad. Across the world, these localised and thick interventions begin to constitute a

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global condition through their recurrence in city after city. In my work I emphasise such local and thick interventions in the making of a global condition rather than the far easier invocation of floating signifiers – ‘beautiful architecture’ or ‘economic prosperity’ – as explanations for the transformation (in this case, gating). As an aside, this also shows us that the spaces and times of the global can contain thick immobilities – such as gated spaces. These begin to constitute a proliferation of partial, sometimes highly specialised, assemblages of bits of territory, authority, and rights once firmly ensconced in, or subordinated to, national institutional frames. At the limit, and at its most negative, this is a multi-sited, global presence of a vast array of logics of expulsion. In such a context, gating is one dynamic giving a particular shape to the act(s) of expulsion. At its most positive, probably, it is the proliferation of justice-seeking initiatives, such as the local ‘occupy’ movements described within this volume. And yet, across these differences, what is at work is the articulation between the particularity of the local event and the larger process that engenders it. Any large diverse city contains a range of spaces that are neither national nor global, which allow for a recurrence of themes (struggles, sufferings, humanities) across all these differences. In my view, this is the DNA of our current global modernity – that 2 per cent that can make all the difference. The way in which the chapters in this book expand the meaning of gating well beyond the standard notion of gated communities is by focusing on a far broader range of instances.These include the closures of what were once public laneways, to home fortification practices inside kibbutzim. Some of these chapters go digging to unsettle easy meanings of today’s gating formats – ‘let’s not collapse gating into an action confined to the rich’. Are there deeper infrastructures of meaning and of aspirations that generate outcomes we can conceive of as gating? I agree that there are multiple conditions, some of which are compelling and signal a range of strategies that go well beyond the aspirations of the newly rich who are not quite the top 5 per cent, let alone the top 1 per cent. Other work in this book ranges from examining border-making as the physical manifestation of far deeper dynamics than the established borders of the inter-state system, to an examination of gating as part of larger dynamics than privilege or security – notably the Occupy movement in London. In all these chapters effort goes towards not flattening gating into a single dominant meaning – a matter of elites and fear – but more contemporary modes and methods of exclusion. Some of these chapters make me think of a larger context within which gating can be seen as a strategic format or option as the decay of a dominant format sets in. Thus, for centuries national states worked at nationalising territory, identity, security, power, rights – all the key elements of social and political existence. When the national state is the dominant format, the overarching dynamic is centripetal: the centre grasps most of what there is to be had. Those nationalising dynamics assembled the pieces of what we now experience as the national – and the natural. And what happened outside the borders of territorial states was written out of history; whether the impoverished terrains of former empires, or the earth’s poles. As

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the national encasement weakens we can see the constituting of a proliferation of partial  – often highly specialised  – assemblages of bits of territory, authority and rights once firmly ensconced in national institutional frames. Today’s forms of gating begin to disassemble those earlier larger, and more encompassing, formats – the city, the region, the nation. Saskia Sassen

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

This book has been influenced and improved by many people who have challenged and inspired us. We are grateful to Saskia Sassen for her continued interest in this project and for kindly writing the foreword for Beyond Gated Communities. We also feel indebted to our anonymous reviewers, as well as to our educational institutions – the Universities of Brighton and Edinburgh, where we have both managed to juggle teaching, research work and a home life, while also putting together this volume. We dedicate this volume to our families, our contributors – who have had to deal with numerous revisions to their manuscripts – and also to the growing nation of residents in various forms of gated communities across the globe.

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INTRODUCTION Ola Uduku and Samer Bagaeen

Beyond Gated Communities seeks to contribute to the ongoing discourse on urban gated communities and their continuing role in the urban fabric of cities across the globe. The texts within this volume have been developed from position papers presented at the University of Brighton at the 7th International Conference on Gated Communities and Private Urban Governance, held between 26 and 28 June 2013. While the editors’ earlier 2010 volume, Gated Communities: Social Sustainability in Contemporary and Historical Gated Developments, grounded its discourse on the need to acknowledge that as a phenomenon, in its broadest interpretation, and making clear that ‘gating’ was neither recent nor confined to the ‘West’, but rather had significant connections to earlier built forms to be found in ‘faraway’ traditional African and Middle Eastern settlements, this volume presents an analysis more grounded in contemporary issues. Beyond Gated Communities, as the title suggests, asks the reader to think beyond our usual conceptualisation of the urban gated community, to a wider examination of the term ‘gating’ and what constitutes exclusion and inclusion in urban spaces within the globalised economies which we engage with today. The chapters this volume has compiled consider this in various ways as they describe various contemporary conditions in which communities are either physically gated, or conceptually excluding or exclusive to those within the urban context in which they exist. Additionally, there are chapters considering the affect of space, which effectively becomes colonised and conceptually gated for liminal periods, for a specific cause – short-term, as in the case of the Occupy movements activities worldwide; or longer-term through the ‘life’ of company towns featured in the photo essay documenting the leftover landscape of Chuquicamata, in Chile, Latin America. Saskia Sassen’s foreword, which follows on from her conference comments, suggests that we specifically consider the new ‘valency’ of gating which, in its examination in this volume, has been opened up to more ‘ambiguous processes’ that can

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be positive or unstable in effect. She reminds us that ‘the work of gating a space is likely to consist of thick, localised interventions by diverse actors, who can be local or global, good or bad’. Furthermore she points out that ‘gating’ – as the diverse multi-faceted phenomenon which we now debate and examine – has its historical roots in the earlier term ‘enclosure’, which is ‘thick with history’ but has re-emerged in today’s critical urban spatial discourses. ‘Gating’ as a term is considered less historic and more provocative in its use and associations.

Definitions Important to the reading of the chapters in this volume, then, is an overview of the definitions and terms of key words and concepts that are engaged with and debated within the text. The most obvious term for clarification remains the ‘gated community’ – what do we mean by this, and how is it constituted? For the purposes of this volume, as with the last, we have allowed the widest possible interpretation of what set of conditions might give rise to the use of the term ‘gated community’; thus, a whole town in the traditional modernist sense – such as the New Urbanists’ Celebration in Florida,1 or a corporate mining town such as Chuquicamata in Chile, described in the volume – could be described in this way; as could a row of houses that are occupied by middle-income residents and which have a security boom at the entrance to the ‘street’ in downtown or suburban Lagos or Lima. Conceptually, the term ‘gated’ can also be further stretched to take on the more global in its meaning, using concepts from cultural geography, and where the ‘gate’ is more psychological or conceptual than physical. Soja’s explorations of space in America come to mind (Soja 2014), as do the feminist geographers’ take on space and its ability to include or exclude through both physical and phenomenological settings (Fainstein 1996, 2010). Most importantly for this book, however, and as is demonstrated in a number of case studies, are the memories of older, more painful, histories of exclusion or spatial segregation, be it in post-apartheid South Africa or present day Jerusalem. Indeed, as Sassen intimates, what happened outside the borders of territorial states was written out of history … As the national encasement weakens we can see the constituting of a proliferation of partial, often highly specialized assemblages of bits of territory, authority and rights … Today’s forms of gating begin to disassemble those earlier larger and more encompassing formats. In Beyond Gated Communities, the contributors have been more careful to define the case study communities or conceptual communities they are exploring within their frame of reference but as they tie into the broad themes of the soft or more porous boundaries and networks explored elsewhere in the book. Thus, we have some chapters presenting traditional case studies, in fixed geographical locations and focusing within their specific local term of reference; while we have others that focus

Introduction

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on specific locations but explore, through the case study analysis, wider issues and causes that their reading of the situation produces. Finally there are a few contributions where the authors are less specific about the case study, but more focused on the connections, networks and implications of enclosing space. Thus, the semantic meaning of ‘gated’ is expanded to signify, in these cases, disassociation or exclusion from the rest – either wilfully, as Bhabba (2004) would say as a performative action by the actors; or in its usual sense the exclusion of actors through the agency of more economically and politically ‘powerful’, and often private and corporate, interests. In order to retain an element of comparative analysis and discussion, the authors have been asked to structure their chapters along the following themes: • • • • •

urban gating: the new debates urban gating: structures and processes new geographies of urban gating networks of power and social relations, and the future of urban gating: critical perspectives.

This determined shift, or engagement, with different meanings and contemporary nuances of ‘gated-ness’, it is argued, is entirely in keeping with today’s socioeconomic urban reality. We have gone beyond the traditional terminology of the gated community – fixed in history, location and urban-architectural typology – to a more fluid status with constantly changing meaning. The book’s remit has been to interrogate what constitutes urban ‘gating’ in the twenty-first century – who is doing the gating, and what affect/effect does this have on the individual and society at large? It retains its emphasis on ensuring that this question is responded to by all the chapters that have been contributed; and, importantly, that the global spread of research and case studies present in the first volume is equally demonstrated and reinforced in this second book. With contributions from Ireland, Chile, South Korea, Canada, Mexico, England, South Africa,Thailand, Israel and the Middle East, a good global spread of coverage has been achieved. The volume works on both case studies and the themes listed above. The case studies deal with the traditional morphological specificities and differences of ‘gated communities’ and their histories in various global locations. Similarly, many contributors explain the mechanisms of how the use of ‘gating’ has a more powerful effect in redefining socioeconomic relations in the area or location of the gated community. Kenna’s Cork case study, for example, describes how the gating of former rights of way near Cork city centre changes the effective public footprint of the city; and explores whose interests this action serves. Similarly, Rosen and Walks’s study on the emerging condominium movement in Toronto shows also how power relations between these communities and local authorities are becoming more skewed in favour of the interests of private condominium occupants and not those of the democratically elected state sector. At a more theoretical level, and using Johannesburg-located case studies, Nel and Landman compare the structure of a specific South African gated community with a

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similarly sized non-gated neighbourhood, from a space syntax perspective. They find that there are specific differences in how both communities work and are perceived. Similarly, Fayel, in his study of kibbutzim and moshavim dwellings, examines how the introduction of personal gating in these traditionally internally gateless community settlements has a more psycho-social effect as residents reorder their engagement with immediate local communities who are now geographically outside their private ‘gates’. Duca, Spocter and Bagaeen engage with the theoretical and conceptual position of gating through presented case studies and a discussion of their possible future implications. Duca and Spocter’s chapters, located in Johannesburg and the rural Western Province, attempt to make sense of, and rationalise, the post-apartheid evolution of ‘gated spaces’ – which cannot now be considered racially segregated, but remain predominantly exclusive white spaces, or indeed enclosures for the affluent, predominantly white, upper middle class South African bourgeoisie. In their case studies both writers, in different ways, suggest that the post-apartheid era promise that a democratically elected government would desegregate all space – commercial and domestic – has not been honoured. In urban areas Duca’s study shows how similar pre-apartheid practices have been reintroduced in newly created exclusive residential estates. As Duca comments: ‘It is crucial to provide an understanding of these areas not just as abstract entities, distant and inherently different but also as continuously changing environments and never fully completed.’ We also are agreed that there is the need to widen the scope of gating to consider more intertwined networks at global and local level, or as Bagaeen reminds us ‘[that] network[s] extend beyond borders and geographies to link affluent communities in the North to affluent communities in the South through a network of influence’. Similarly, at local level, networks of traditional thoroughfares can be redesignated and ‘gated’ off, as evidenced in Kenna’s contribution. This also would seem to confirm Nel and Landman’s assertion that the gated neighbourhood is more of a tree than a leaf in its self-sustaining structure. Spocter delves further into the examination of post-apartheid domestic space in his study of the new gating phenomenon taking place outside urban areas and in small rural towns, or ‘dorps’. His study of the establishment of such a community in the rural Western Cape province identifies how, through near-Orwellian sartorial policies, the new ‘gated community’ has all the attributes (and more besides) of those that existed in the era of ‘high’ apartheid in South Africa. Bagaeen’s position chapter lends its name to this volume. He argues that we need a new ‘roadmap’ to understand gating. He discusses in detail the contested spaces and the need to expand the idea of gating to its wider implication of spatial exclusion and expulsion, in some cases, of the ‘other’. The absurdities of this position are highlighted in cited case studies of fortification and territoriality – particularly from the Middle East. His central argument is that that there still remains a space for further discourse and research into gating and closure in its broadest sense, a discourse which needs expanding to examine the different networks of operation in which these take place – both global in time and space, and also among linked or networked actors.

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This gives a good contextual background to Robinson’s piece, arguably the most topical of the contemporary ‘moment’ in which this volume is being published.The Occupy movement has been the most influential disrupter of corporate social space we have seen in the second decade of the twenty-first century. Robinson’s incisive sociological analysis of the positioning of this protest, and its encounter with space in London, is particularly instructive and has clear connections and links with not only the global Occupy movement but other organisations that also challenge the formal order – also alluded to in Sassen’s preface to the volume. Beyond Gated Communities challenges the reader to engage with the wider realities of physical and psychological exclusion that many residents in cities and towns across the world face on account of exclusionary gating practices – whether they be real, perceived or subliminal in origin. This global engagement with the practice of gating, or the creation of the exclusive enclave – for good or for bad – is entrenched in urban developments worldwide in its various guises: its effect and affect becoming the backdrop to contemporary urban life.The year 2014 witnessed trials relating to two incidents in gated community settings – one in the USA and the other in South Africa.The Trayvon Martin affair in Miami, USA, and the Oscar Pistorius trial, in Pretoria, South Africa, both involved fatal shootings within exclusive gated enclaves. Both defendants were armed and [allegedly] felt threatened, despite both residing in territorially exclusive and fortified gated estates.2 At a ‘supra’ level, we now have the spectacle of exclusionary islands for the very rich, first manifested in Dubai with its man-made islands based on different themes. This idea has been further developed in Africa – the Eko Atlantic project in Lagos, an island created by dredging the Lagos Lagoon, has become an exclusive residential and commercial village for an African elite.3 The islands, in both these cases, further reify the idea of the ‘gate’ to the exclusive total inaccessibility of the island to a wider community. At the other end of the scale there are territories and islands of exclusionary access – such as Lampedusa, a small island near Malta – where refugees attempting to escape mainland north Africa are held after attempting dangerous and all-too-often fatal trips across the Mediterranean to make landfall in Europe. Similarly, the small island of Nauru in the south Pacific has become one of Australia’s offshore processing points for refugees and asylum seekers wishing to enter the country.4 Whilst these are both extreme examples of exclusionary spaces, more general examples of similar spaces at a lesser extreme of territorial exclusion are not difficult to identify. As with its predecessor, this book can be dipped into and read either by author, by theme or by region. Considering the book thematically, the contributions of Bagaeen, Robinson and Duca, read together provide conceptual themes to this volume. Site-specific case studies are presented in the form of contributions by Kim and Suwannasang; case studies that are used to explore wider themes are contributed by Kenna; Spocter; Rosen and Walks; Fayel; Milián and Guenet; and Nel and Landman. A photographic essay, contributed by Acosta, of a case study from Chile, concludes the volume.

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Summary How much further, then, can we go beyond urban gating? The variety of case studies, issues and contexts which the authors in this volume have written about makes clear that gating and exclusionary territorial practices remain as relevant to contemporary urbanism as they were a decade ago. If anything, the complexities and nuances of today’s practices of territoriality have widened our view on this. As Sassen points out, the issue has historical form, through past semantic discourses surrounding enclosure, reservations, and so on. The continuing growth of global cities, and our love affair with urban living – even in places where the city is fragmented, as in the war zone, urban dystopia or economic decline – means that our need to create and define territories and spaces of engagement will remain. There is still much to learn from the ongoing transformations in the processes and practices of ‘gating’. Furthermore, this learning has become located in wider globalised discourses surrounding economic power and social democracy; the general ideas remain a fertile source of debate, but more specific local issues continue to produce unique responses to individual city–urban contexts.We suggest, therefore, that the research agenda on gated communities remains open-ended – there need to be many more case studies and theoretical positions to engage with and study.This is an area of ongoing research, and one that still has much ground to cover.5 It is also important to take into account the conditions and situations of gating that are not fixed, but rather fluid in their manifestation on the ground and within wider social and economic discourses – as Robinson’s chapter and Sassen’s foreword have so clearly highlighted. This flux of activity in urban gating processes requires a greater sharing of information and knowledge than is currently the case. The primacy of the case study remains vital to our understanding of conditions of ‘gatedness’. However, as our use of new technologies has become more ubiquitous we need to harness them to improve our access to research and ‘on the ground’ urban networks that have interests related to urban space – web pages, blogs, tweets and other social media all allow near-instant 24-hour access to information. However, this does not make the task of the researcher any easier; filtering and checking information becomes a more overwhelming and exacting task. Networks often need to be constantly checked (and upgraded) if they are not to become obsolescent. However, keeping participants ‘bought in’ to the purpose can often be difficult or doomed to fail. From our viewpoint, we hope that this volume helps the reader by not only adding to the ‘literature’ and debate about ‘gatedness’, but also by encouraging research engagement with global urban networks that have similar spatial interests. NGO coalitions such as Slum Dwellers International come to mind, but also the successful Occupy movement, as documented in this volume and which has clearly demonstrated the power of the global network. Thus, it seems clear to us that forms of urban gating are likely to become more fluid in their execution and processes.This is likely, in turn, to lead to further examination of both traditional and new transformations that urban gating models are

Introduction

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FIGURE I.1 Osborne Foreshore (Gated) Estate, Ikoyi Island. Source: author.

already undergoing; and further, it means that we need to continue our engagement in research, debate, interpretation and recording of gating that is to be found in both our own localities as well as further afield. To do this effectively we need to use all the media formats at our disposal – we hope that Beyond Gated Communities is a small contribution to this process.

Notes 1 2

3 4 5

See Ross (2000) and Bierut (2007: 200–3). For Trayvon Martin see the Guardian at:  http://www.theguardian.com/world/ trayvon-martin and the New  York Times at:  http://topics.nytimes.com/top/reference/timestopics/people/m/trayvon_martin/index.html For Oscar Pistorius see the New  York Times at:  http://topics.nytimes.com/top/reference/timestopics/people/p/ oscar_pistorius/index.html and the Guardian at:  http://www.theguardian.com/world/ reeva-steenkamp-shooting (all accessed 2 October 2014). See: http://www.ekoatlantic.com/about-us/ (accessed 16 July 2014). See Crock et al. (2006) and recent media articles in the Guardian (http://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/australian-immigration-and-asylum) (accessed 6 October 2014). See, for example, Pow (2014), who surveys the current continuing ‘dystopia’ of urban gating research, and calls for a more ‘hopeful’ [continuing] research agenda in this area.

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References Bagaeen, S. (2010) ‘Gated urban life or kinship and social solidarity: the rise of gated communities in the Middle East’ in S. Bagaeen and O. Uduku (eds) Gated Communities: Social Sustainability in Contemporary and Historical Gated Developments. London: Earthscan Bhabba, H. (2004) The Location of Culture. London: Routledge Bierut, M. (2007) 79 Short Essays on Design, USA:  Princeton Architectural Press: 200–3. Looking for Celebration, Florida Crock, M., Saul, B. and Dastvari, A.(2006) Future seekers II, Refugees and Irregular Migration in Australia. Australia, Federation Press Fainstein, S. (1996) ‘Planning in a different voice’ in S.  Campbell and S. Fainstein (eds) Readings in Planning Theory. Oxford: Blackwell Fainstein, S. (2010) The Just City. NY, Ithaca: Cornell University Press Jumero, M. (2004) ‘Lets Build a Palm Island’ in Urry, J. and Sheller, M. (eds) Tourism Mobilities. London: Routledge. Chapter 16: 181–97 Pow, C. P. (2014) ‘Urban Dystopia and epistemologies of hope’ in Progress in Human Geography: 1–22 Ross, A.(2000) The Celebration Chronicles. London: Verso Soja, E.  (2014) My Los Angeles:  from Urban Restructuring to Regional Urbanisation. California: University of California Press UNDP (2013) ‘More futuristic African Cities in the Works’ in Development Challenges, South-South Solutions (Newsletter of the United Nations Office for South-South Corporation) August 2013: 4 Ventrella, M. (2013) The Control of people smuggling and trafficking in the UK and Italy, London: Ashgate

Online sources Trayvon Martin The Guardian:  http://www.theguardian.com/world/trayvon-martin (accessed 2 October 2014) New York Times: http://topics.nytimes.com/top/reference/timestopics/people/m/trayvon_ martin/index.html (accessed 2 October 2014)

Oscar Pistorius The Guardian:  http://www.theguardian.com/world/reeva-steenkamp-shooting (accessed 2 October 2014) New  York  Times: http://topics.nytimes.com/top/reference/timestopics/people/p/oscar_ pistorius/index.html (accessed 2 October 2014)

Global man made islands Palm Jumeira: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/middleeast/dubai/8271643/ The-World-is-sinking-Dubai-islands-falling-into-the-sea.html (accessed 6 October 2014) Eko Atlantic City: http://www.ekoatlantic.com/about-us/ (accessed 16 July 2014) Lampedusa: http://online.wsj.com/articles/a-year-after-lampedusa-shipwreck-italian-officials-still-struggle-to-identify-the-victims-1412351197 (accessed 6 October 2014) Nauru: http://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/australian-immigration-and-asylum (accessed 6 October 2014)

1 BEYOND GATED COMMUNITIES Urban gating, soft boundaries and networks of influence and affluence Samer Bagaeen

Introduction In first thinking about this book, and then in writing this chapter, I am attempting to set out a road map to reconceptualise our understanding of what have come to be known in the academic literature as ‘gated communities’. I lay out a template designed to explore the notion of the gated community as an identifiable transnational connector space, in the same way some boutique hotel brands are a sign of privilege for global travellers. The chapter illustrates how conflict, particularly urban conflict, has been a key driver in promoting aspects of fortification in the built environment that has subsequently led to the militarisation and fragmentation of urban space.The chapter suggests that the debates around aspects of fortification and militarisation in the built environment should shift from a focus on ‘gated communities’ to one on ‘urban gating’, i.e. a shift from the familiar notion of the hard edges of the self-contained gated community to the more fluid, sometimes softer boundaries and a generic notion of urban gating in the landscape. This discussion is driven by Sassen’s argument outlined in Bagaeen and Uduku (2010) that gated communities – as they have been built and conceived of in large urban areas over the last 20 years – are but one of a range of instances of urban gating; one phase in a long history across time and space. Especially in the case of the gated communities of the rich and the privileged, we may well have missed the fact of the growing cross-border interactions among these increasingly global elites – not only through their workplaces, but also increasingly, perhaps, through their family and social lives. Sardar (in Bagaeen and Uduku 2010) suggests an alternative view that takes on board these particularities, noting that ‘the gated community is a microcosm, a metaphor for the ideology and interlocking relationships, global in extent’ (2010: 9). In fact, this position reinforces Sassen’s view and would mean accepting that such elite gated communities are

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increasingly part of what she has called the ‘geographies of centrality’ that connect the power centres of the world and cut across the old North–South divide – leaving behind ‘geographies of marginality’, both of which ‘gate’. What this means, as I will demonstrate here, is that the poor also build gates. Following the publication of Gated Communities (Bagaeen and Uduku 2010) we were left with a nagging question: is ‘gated’ really the most appropriate term to conceptualise such global processes of (self-)segregation, exclusion and territorialisation? Or, is there merit in adopting Sassen’s more generic notion of ‘urban gating’? The contribution of that first book to this field of knowledge lay in examining how, historically, cultures and traditions have managed the public and the private, both as systems of values and responses to these in the built environment. This was an important question at the time because as we looked at different countries where the phenomenon of the gated community was present, we found different drivers. As a residential form, we also discovered it provided the new elites (such as those in China) with enough autonomy to participate in the market while asking them to participate in legitimating the regime. In order, therefore, to now attempt some kind of reconceptualisation, this chapter takes on a pensive and sometimes reflective mode. It is divided into several key parts, the first of which facilitates a clearer definition of the issues and drivers that have propelled urban security to the fore. The second looks at the implications of ‘security’ and ‘conflict’ in urban areas. A brief examination of the current debates and writings around gated communities precedes those parts of the chapter that seek to lend credence to an alternative view set around ideas of ‘urban gating’.These ideas will coalesce as the reader ploughs on through the many interesting chapters that make up this book.

Conflict and fortification in the urban environment Priest (2011) argues that conflict is inherent in society and is better understood as a transformative process by which opposing ideas and visions are voiced; and root causes of major social problems, inequalities or injustices, are challenged. For Piquard and Swenarton (2011: 2) conflict is an ‘event that interrupts and disrupts normality’. Gated communities have been described as divisive and fragmentary; as demonstrated elsewhere in this book, they can arise either out of necessity or tradition, and under certain processes  – socio-economic, political, or other. They can belong to what Soffer and Minghi (1986: 29) describe as a ‘security landscape’ that is the ‘result of the necessity to defend a territory’ (Figure  1.1). Calthorpe (1993: 137), in a discussion on American gated communities, wrote that physically, the gated community denotes the separation, and sadly the fear, that has become the subtext of a country once founded on differences and tolerance. Politically, it expresses the desire to privatise, cutting back the responsibilities of government to provide services for all … Socially, the fortress

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FIGURE 1.1 Housing at Ma’ale Adumim, Jerusalem. Source: author.

represents a self-fulfilling prophecy. The more isolated people become, and the less they share with others unlike themselves, the more they fear. This is an argument that Sassen returns to in the fourth edition of Cities in a World Economy (2012); and in Chapter 9 of this volume Sassen highlights ‘the sharpening distance between the extremes evident in all major cities of developed countries’ (2012: 325). The power to zone and regulate the use of space in urbanised societies extends from a legitimation of that power in the interest of the health, safety and welfare of the public. Brunn et al. (2000: 68) highlight the particular nature of security devices as landscape features that do not happen by accident but are the ‘conscious decisions of governing or corporate leaders [who] wish to exercise power or wish to encourage and persuade others, through propaganda, advertising or even fear to construct elements of a defence landscape’. According to the same authors (2000:  71), the most apparent and observed elements in these landscapes are walls, fences and gates, all of which may be used to enclose individual residences, apartment complexes or entire communities (see Figure 1.2 and Figure 1.3). Shirlow (2000:  85)  suggests that ‘in arenas of violent conflict, the control of territory is usually achieved through dominating social contact, iconographies

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FIGURE 1.2 York Terrace West, London. Source: author.

of devotion and political aspirations’. More recently, Piquard and Swenarton (2011:  4)  link this process to innovation; they note that from Vitruvius onwards, the fortification of towns and settlements ‘has been considered integral to the work of the architect and the need for defensive fortifications has often acted as a spur to architectural invention’. Phillips (2000: 134) described private communities as ‘landscapes of defence’ and noted that ‘many private communities have locational and architectural features that are highly reminiscent of the defensive features of a fortress’. Brunn et al. (2000: 73) note how a state can send various messages to those wishing to enter its spaces through architecture, colour, degree of openness, single or multiple checkpoints, and the friendliness (or otherwise) of its uniformed personnel – including whether they carry weapons. There are, of course, various degrees of fortification in the urban landscape. The sight of the military in border areas conveys the special security character of these areas. What can be different is the visibility of the military, and especially that of soldiers in uniform, carrying weapons in otherwise civilian contexts. In a study of Israeli securityscapes, Azaryahu (2000) argues that the most notable ones are military landscapes  – especially the army camps that adorn the Israeli landscape. The architecture of military camps combines military functions with notions of discipline and authority. Signs on perimeter fences indicate that these enclaves are

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FIGURE 1.3 San Borja, Lima. Source: author.

subject to a set of rules different from the ordinary ‘civilian’ code. He explains how ‘fortified gates stress that these are restricted areas, inaccessible to unauthorised persons. Photography is prohibited, which enhances the sense of secrecy with which such secluded areas are shrouded’ (2000: 106). Prior to this observation, Soffer and Minghi (1986) highlighted the link between a war’s physical-climatic background and the establishment of borders. In Israel, where the idea of the settlement as a protected space still prevails, the building of fences was reintroduced in the late 1960s following a new wave of attacks on Israeli settlements along the Jordanian, and later the Lebanese, borders. This produced a typical picture:  the kibbutz surrounded by barbed wire, locked at night, and with an armed patrol always on duty (Baignet and Leigh 1991: 27). Fences, with a guarded gate to control movements in and out of the settlement area – especially ones that are small and isolated – also encircle Jewish settlements in the Occupied Territories. An equally important function of the fence in these cases is to mark land claims, and the building of such a fence tends to be an occasion for a clash with the settlement’s Arab neighbours. The fence, of course, underlines the existence of the settlement as an enclave in a hostile environment. This is an image very similar to that of the gated community built out of fear of the ‘other’, and borne out of the same fear that allows for security personnel being positioned at entrances to cinemas and shopping centres, and at the gates of schools, to check the bags of people and to patrol their surroundings. Highly sensitive military and government intelligence spaces (Figure 1.4) may feature multiple entry checkpoints,

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The American embassy, Lima. Source: author.

FIGURE 1.4

voice pattern and face-scanning identification mechanisms, and approved authorisation protocols. An apt description of security in gated communities is given by Brunn et  al. (2000: 76). They note how armed security guards often stand at elaborate entrance gates or gatehouses that signal symbols of power, control, wealth, privacy and protection. Outsiders and unwelcome visitors are, ‘it is hoped’, deterred by elaborate security systems, concrete barricades, walls within walls, the requirement to show security documentation, and walls or fences that from the outside serve as sharp social class and economic dividers.The authors also point out that not everyone resides in ‘gilded ghettos or exclusive and expensive subdivisions’ (2000: 73).The desire for privacy may simply be reflected in the use of ‘no trespassing’ signs, or the placement of flower pots and low-growing or eye-level shrubberies, as illustrated in Figure 1.5.

The militarisation of urban space The growing emphasis on the militarisation of urban space was examined in great detail by Coaffee (2003, 2009). Blakely and Snyder (1997) could not help commenting on this in their seminal discussion on gated communities. It was, however, Mike Davis (1990:  223–4) who argued much earlier that ‘much of urban

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FIGURE 1.5 Housing at Gun Wharf Quays, Portsmouth. Source: author.

social theory has been silent about the militarisation of built environments’. In a discussion of the implications of this militarisation (1990: 224) Davis foresaw that the fortification of space would have three consequences:  it would create a new commodity whereby access to security became the decisive division between the merely well-off and the rich; rather than reducing feelings of insecurity it would in fact heighten levels of fear; and it would destroy public space, and particularly those spaces that allowed for social mixing. In her 2002 study for the Royal Institution of Chartered Surveyors in the UK, Minton (2002: 9) attempts to unravel some of the myths surrounding gated communities; in the absence of clear evidence to the contrary she argues that gating does not reduce crime, and that it does so is merely a ‘matter of perception’. She also highlights the issue of ‘polarisation’ in ghettos and gated communities. One consequence of this polarisation, she notes, is the appearance of ‘hot spots’ and ‘cold spots’ in the housing market, in urban and rural areas, and in city centre developments. Even though the concept of gated communities is more typically associated with new-build estates on the leafy fringes of suburbia, Thorp (2003) highlights how it is in the inner cities of Britain where developers have made the ‘greatest strides’. Bagaeen (2010:  21)  discusses the growth of retro-fitted and infill gating in urban developments, and how gating in these instances was perceived as a device for giving residents social control over their own environment. It is

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here, Thorp notes, that the social divide between the haves and the have-nots is at its most exemplary, with multi-million pound gated fl ats nestling alongside deprived social housing estates – as witnessed on the Isle of Dogs in London, for example (2003: 25), where there are many former public buildings and brownfield sites which now house loft-style apartments surrounded by walls and gates.

Shifting a ‘traditional’ view of gated communities There is an extensive literature on what have come to be known as gated communities. This literature suggests that the contexts in which these have developed over the last 20 years are similar – in most cases it involves an emergent middle class or bourgeoisie acquiring local affluence; and with this comes a real, or perceived, fear of encroaching crime and ‘contamination’ from a wider society that does not share their socio-economic status. Coupled with this fear has been the ability and willingness to pay for the segregation and services that a gated community can provide. As we read through this literature (Le Goix and Webster 2008; Blandy 2006; Wu and Webber 2004; Caldeira 2000; Blakely and Snyder 1997) we are left in no doubt about the reasons for the privatisation of public space, the fortification of the urban realm, and the rise of the contemporary gated community: a response to the fear of crime. In addition to this dominant thread running through the texts, McKenzie (2005) located gated communities in the landscape of the neoliberal city – a city characterised by a decline in the significance of public housing and public spaces, and the rise of entrepreneurial privatised landscapes of gentrification and mega-projects. Abaza (2011: 1076) notes how the neoliberal nouveau riche have opted to get out of Cairo. She adds that this imagined landscape is in Dubai-style walled off islands, with condominiums and gated communities with Disneyfield landscaping, together with endless private cars with chauffeurs, servants commuting [to serve them] with public transport, and multiple ring roads surrounding Cairo flying over unwanted hidden slums. From this literature, two definitions of gated communities stand out.The first, by Atkinson and Blandy, writing in a special issue of Housing Studies on the subject of ‘Gated Communities’ (2005: 177–8), is as follows: A housing development that restricts public access, usually through the use of gates, walls and fences … residential areas may also employ security staff or CCTV systems to monitor access … [may] include a variety of services such as shops or leisure facilities … and can be characterised by legal agreements which tie the residents to a common code of conduct and (usually) collective responsibility for management.

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The second, by Blakely (2007: 475), is as follows: Gated communities are residential areas with restricted access, such that spaces normally considered public have been privatised. Physical barriers – walled or fenced perimeters – and gated or guarded entrances control access. Gated communities include both new housing developments and older residential areas retrofitted with barricades and fences. Despite this outpouring of literature and research on gated communities since the early 1990s linking gating to new patterns of development, one also finds evidence to suggest that the phenomenon can be linked to historic patterns of enclosure, globally. Rosen and Razin (2009) argue that gated communities are not a unitary phenomena, suggesting two levels of analysis: a macro level, reflecting increasing social polarisation and segregation; and a micro level tending to be shaped by historical circumstances, local cultural meanings, and local planning and political institutions. Citing the case of Israel, they point out that there are three types of enclosed communities classified by their institutional and cultural settings. The first, they suggest, ‘consists of traditional ethno-cultural communities (ultra-Orthodox Jewish communities and neighbourhoods in Bedouin cities) in which enclosure protects unique cultural values, lifestyles and cohesion’ (p. 1707). The second group, they note, ‘consists of frontier settlements (kibbutzim and moshavim – communal and collective settlements) and community settlements in Israel and the occupied territories, developed particularly in rural locations in which Zionist and socialist ideologies play a major role’ (ibid.). They also refer to a ‘third, more recent type of neo-liberal enclave that is more in line with the global trend of gated communities’ (ibid.). Taking an overall view, we can argue here that none of the usual definitional features advanced for the gated community – including those listed above – are in themselves new. Returning to the writings on historic global patterns of enclosure – the practice of spatial segregation, defensible settlements, social-legal arrangements particular to a community that demonstrate the ideals and expectations of behaviour among group members  – all have their precursors in earlier forms of communal living. Edward Blakely himself acknowledges this (2007: 476) when he notes that gated and walled cities or residential areas are as old as community building itself. According to archaeological evidence, there is little doubt that early human settlements in the Nile River valleys were walled against the hunter-gatherer tribes that roamed the desserts. There is evidence to suggest that the phenomenon can be linked to older historic patterns of enclosure, found globally. Denyer (1978: 66–73) devoted an entire chapter on traditional African dwellings to ‘defence’, pointing out that

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even in the absence of armed conflict some protection was needed almost everywhere from large mammals … The slave raiding which intensified from the eighteenth [century] and the political upheavals of the nineteenth century meant that few people were immune from danger, and by 1900 nearly every village and town in sub-Saharan Africa had some form of defensive cordon. In Gated Communities: Social sustainability in contemporary and historical gated developments, we attempted to stretch and nourish the conceptual boundaries of gated communities with nuanced accounts of local contingencies, such as social struggles and conflicts. Within the pages of that book, Sardar offered a critical commentary of the politics of gated communities and delineated gated communities as ‘the physical embodiment of a wealth-driven, growth-oriented, idyll of conspicuous consumption in which individuals indulge their own celebrity/designer-styled existence in enclaves protected from those less fortunate’ (2010:  9). This is what Sassen (2012: 327) calls ‘new forms of inequality constituted into new social forms’. The case studies in that first book were essentially narrative – an attempt to analyse gated community precedence rather than critically tackling their longer term consequences for urban living. That was a task we took on when we conceived this second book.

Urban gating: the new debates Given the diversity of the existing literature, there is no escaping that gated communities have been recognised as a global phenomenon not restricted to a specific geographical area and developed within various historical contexts (in addition to Bagaeen and Uduku 2010, see also Havermans and Smeets 2010). They are by no means new, nor are they the product of universal principles or circumstances. Among other things, they reflect historical conditions, contemporary concerns, cultural ambitions and inter-group dynamics (Rosen and Grant 2011). They can also at times present a paradox. Roitman (2010) highlights some of the contradictions in the attitudes surrounding gated communities; in Latin America, for example, she points out that although local government staff see them as ‘anti-urban’ and sometimes disagree with the values behind them, they tend to accept the development because they see it as a solution to individual security problems. Csefalvay does pose a significant question about the lack of penetration of ‘gates and walls’ in some countries (2010: 4). In Budapest, he argues that far from being seen as socially problematic, they are seen as ‘the revolt of the upper middle classes against centralised government’ (2010: 15). Havermans and Smeets (2010) suggest that the enclosure of neighbourhoods can be seen as serving several interrelated functions: physical, economic, social and symbolic. The ‘physical’ secures residents and properties within the neighbourhood and creates identity for the project in terms of architectural style and types of amenity which appeal to a certain niche.

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The ‘economic’ seeks the enhancement of property values and the protection of club amenities. The ‘social’ gives visual or spatial privacy and control to those inside, meaning that residents are obliged to conform to determined behavioural rules in order to preserve the quality of the community both physically and socially. The ‘symbolic’ is about communicating the status and power of the community, the expression of its exclusivity (using gates) and control of those outside. Havermans and Smeets (2010) suggest that the rise of the gated community is not necessarily a consequence of fear, but rather an expressions of the search among some social groups for a residential environment that better meets their lifestyles. They imply that this is because the public domain is no longer able to facilitate these needs for such groups – arguing that the gated community is a coping strategy (albeit an extreme one) in response to the disruption of place attachment and the threat of place identity in existing neighbourhoods. That said, they point out that residents living together with like-minded people does not necessarily make them a close knit community (citing Blandy and Lister 2005), or that they share a higher level of community than non-gated community residents (citing Wilson-Doenges, 2000). In fact, and mirroring what goes on outside the gates, it is often an active minority who run the development (Blandy and Lister 2005). Havermans and Smeets conclude that the gate, or physical barrier, is no guarantee of the creation of psychological people–place relationships – arguing, perhaps, that soft boundaries (psychological or virtual) can achieve a similar effect because strong place attachment – with or without a hard barrier – can lead to feelings of security and a sense of control, while also providing opportunities for privacy and personal display. The gate can also offer opportunities for social reorganisation because alterations of the built environment, and the creation of spaces of access and exclusion, can change social relations. According to Brunn et al. (2000: 70), social positions are made evident in the restriction or the making available of certain spaces. One’s identity is as much defined by their access, mobility and interpretation of space as it is by race, ethnicity, nationality, gender or sexuality. This is because space and social position track each other through the social relations – or their prohibition – as expressed in the cultural/built landscape. Brunn (2006: 8) envisages a variety of socio-economic characteristics defining those residing behind the walls: sexists, racists, bigots, supremacists; hermits, high income professionals, celebrities, underworld elements; loners, the rich and famous, the aspiring to be famous; as well as victims who face discrimination for reasons of religion, language, sexual preference and physical appearance; and victims of oppression and abuse. Brunn (2006) offers an opportunity to think about gatedness ‘outside the box’. He addresses three interrelated concepts about the ‘gatedness of life’: gated communities, gated lives and gated minds (2006: 6). He uses the term ‘gated lives’ to define those living behind the physical walls, gates and fences described above. By residing in these constricted and restricted spaces, the residents are living lives ‘separated’ or apart from others. They are not just physically separated; they may also wish to retain a certain ‘social and spatial distance’ from others – i.e. those ‘beyond’ or ‘outside’ the walls (2006: 7).Then there are those with ‘gated minds’, which Brunn defines as the kind of

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thinking that some have about others. He conceives these minds as being prejudicial, harshly stereotypical, and unhealthy in their unacceptable exclusion of others owing to their lifestyle, ethnicity, sexual preference, religious practice or skin colour (2006: 8–9). Brunn points out that the relationships between these three aspects are rarely straightforward; for example, not all people residing in a gated community live a gated mind and life – some may live a gated mind, but not a gated life. This raises interesting questions about the relationship between social space (gated minds) and physical space (gated places). In some cases (see, for example, Landman’s work on South Africa, in Bagaeen and Uduku 2010) gated places were the direct result of gated mindsets based upon a logic of difference (social space) that manifested in separated spaces in the built environment (physical space). In this analysis, Brunn offers us an insight into the dynamic between the social space (or ‘social forms’, as Sassen calls them) and the physical space. One of the questions Brunn (2006) asks is whether one can ‘live in a gated community and not live a gated mind and gated life?’ He answers in the affirmative in this instance, noting that such a person could reside in some “walled” or exclusionary space, but have experiences, contacts, and networks that are mostly outside of one’s residential space and be considered tolerant, open minded, and accepting of others. It is the residential gatedness that has fences and walls. He suggests we look at whether one chooses to live in a gated community because one also chooses to live a gated life. The second question Brunn asks is whether one can ‘live a gated life and not have a gated mind?’ Here, too, he answers in the affirmative, noting this is ‘possible, although perhaps hard to understand’. He points out that ‘a person could live a sheltered and protected life, that is, one’s associations with strangers and those outside one’s place of residence would have no barriers, but one would still harbour prejudices, biases, and hatred for others’. The third question Brunn asks is whether one can ‘have a gated mind and not live a gated life and live in a gated community?’ This, too, is answered with a resounding ‘yes’; Brunn noting that ‘it is possible for one to live a closed mind and harbour many fears, biases and prejudices of others and live a life with full restrictions and in a residence with no apparent walls or fences’. This third question raises another: whether gated minded individuals necessarily only live in gated communities. Landman (2010) adopts this reasoning – using South Africa as an example of the large-scale socio-spatial engineering that goes as far back as 1656, when the Dutch first settled in the Cape. She concludes that gated places, in some cases, are the direct result of gated mindsets based on a logic of difference (social space) that manifested in separated spaces in the built environment (physical space). In another study of dynamic segregation processes in Beirut, Alaily-Mattar (2008) outlines a new kind of spatiality of segregation that seeps through the totality of the city, rather than being restricted to certain localities. She describes this

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as a layer superimposed on the city. This is a new structure, a network of nodes where affluent status-seeking individuals practice different degrees of spatial segregation beyond the residential level, thereby creating different types of boundaries. The result is a network of affluence with soft boundaries around the social space, coupled with hard boundaries around the physical space. This is in contrast to the network we encounter in Palestinian and Israeli contested spaces. This can be perceived as more than the physical road network that privileges access to such contested space to Israeli settlers on the West Bank.This is in direct contradiction to the use of the same network as a physical device backed up with legalistic and political systems which deny Palestinians the same access and ease of passage through and out of this same, and therefore contested space in the West Bank (FMEP 2004; Cook 2010; Shamir 2005).

New geographies of urban gating There seems to be little discrepancy in the fundamental objectives of today’s gated communities: the need for security and (or) exclusivity. How this is achieved today seems to be modelled on the various definitions discussed earlier, i.e. the condominium/club exclusivity afforded by the affluent gated estate, versus the pragmatic response to high crime levels in cities such as Lagos and Johannesburg, which resulted in the lower middle classes and poorer neighbourhoods clubbing together to construct makeshift metal booms and pay security personnel to guard streets and neighbourhoods from external crime. In Latin American cities, for example, class politics, urban growth and conflict have had a defining influence on city formation and, subsequently, the formulation of gated enclaves where, in the main, gates are introduced to make places safer and to address the fear of crime. My own research, covering suburban examples in the Peruvian city of Lima, shows that urban gating is not restricted to the rich; the poor also build gates, and many city streets in Lima are removed from the public realm and handed over to private security agents who police access points into what are sometimes large urban swathes (see Figure 1.6 and Figure 1.7). One crucial question we would like to come back to here relates to the notion of gating as an ‘old’ phenomenon. More precisely, if ‘gating’ is not ‘new’, how can we still move the discussion around gating forward? What issues must we consider as the ‘global gated’ phenomenon continues apace in some parts of the world, but less so in others? Through this brief journey we have arrived at a juncture where we have the components of a new vocabulary that we can use to explore urban gating: namely, conflict, soft boundaries, and networks of influence and affluence.

The future of urban gating: gates and the global elite This chapter started off by highlighting the highly fragmentary nature of gated communities in the urban fabric – arguing that conflict, particularly urban conflict,

FIGURE 1.6 Pachacamac and Santa Patricia neighbourhoods, Lima. Source: author.

FIGURE 1.7 Pachacamac and Santa Patricia neighbourhoods, Lima. Source: author.

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has been a key driver in promoting aspects of fortification in the built environment, subsequently leading to the militarisation and fragmentation of urban space. Gated communities are seen as divisive and fragmentary, arising either out of necessity or tradition, and under certain processes – be they socio-economic or political. Many cities around the world are made up of islands of wealth nestling amid oceans of poverty, forming an intriguing urban patchwork in the process. In a study of Brazilian gated communities, Coy (2006: 122) notes that gated communities are only ‘one element in the extremely complex patchwork of the fragmented Latin American cities’. As concrete features resulting from urban fragments, Coy does not only observe gated communities – although these are, he points out, ‘at the fore of this contribution’ (2006: 123). He also observes an increased number of shopping centres, urban entertainment centres, highly sophisticated business parks as well as revitalised areas in the often-degraded city centres. In general, these different urban fragments are closely linked to each other, forming a network of spaces (social and physical?) in the everyday life of the socio-economically, culturally and politically dominant urban classes around the world. These are, indeed, part of a network – one that extends beyond borders and geographies and one that links the affluent communities in the North to the affluent communities in the South through a network of influence. Sassen (in Bagaeen and Uduku 2010) notes the following: [E]specially in the case of the gated communities of the rich and the privileged, we may well have missed the fact of growing cross-border interactions among these increasingly global elites, not only through their workplaces but increasingly perhaps also through their family and social life.This would mean that such elite gated communities are increasingly part of what I have elsewhere called geographies of centrality that connect the power centres of the world and cut across the old North–South divide. This chapter has explored the signifier and signals of gated spaces as neural transmitters to global upper classes of the status and connectivity that the gated enclave presents to both occupant and transient. In these elite gated places social status is conveyed by one’s address – allowing for a platform of expectations for residents, would-be residents and visitors. In essence, this boils down to having the ‘right’ address. Increasingly, such addresses act as communication channels, as well as being highly sought after for the purposes of generating returns on real estate investment. Urban gating has never before been seen through this lens – it is usually pigeonholed as urban development, and hence as somewhat epiphenomenal to the larger global arena.

References Abaza, M. (2011) ‘Cairo’s Downtown Imagined: Dubaisation or Nostalgia?’ in Urban Studies, May, vol. 48, no. 6: 1075–87

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Alaily-Mattar, N. (2008) ‘Beyond gated communities? Detachment and concentration in networked nodes of affluence in the city of Beirut’ in Urban Design International, vol. 13, no. 4: 263–71 Atkinson, R. and Blandy, S. (2005) ‘Introduction:  International Perspectives on the New Enclavism and the Rise of Gated Communities’ in Housing Studies, vol. 20, no. 2: 177–86 Azaryahu, M. (2000) ‘Israeli securityscapes’ (Chapter 6) in Gold, J. R. and Revill, G. (eds) Landscapes of defence. London: Pearson Education Ltd Bagaeen, S. (2006) ‘Redeveloping former military sites: competitiveness, urban sustainability and public participation’ in Cities, vol. 23, no. 5: 339–52 Bagaeen, S. and Uduku, O. (eds) (2010) Gated Communities: Social sustainability in contemporary and historical gated developments. London: Routledge Baignet, M. and Leigh, R. (1991) The Dead Sea Scrolls Deception. London: Corgi Books: 27 Blakely, E. J. (2007) ‘Gated communities for a frayed and afraid world’ in Housing Policy Debate, vol. 18, no. 3: 475–80 Blakely, E. J. and Snyder, M. G., (1997) Fortress America: Gated Communities in the United States. Washington, DC: Brookings Institution Press Blandy, S. (2006) ‘Gated communities in England: historical perspectives and current developments’ in GeoJournal, vol. 66: 15–26 Blandy, S. and Lister, D. (2005) Gated communities: (Ne)Gating community development? in Housing Studies, vol. 20, no. 2: 287–301 Brooks, R. D. (2007) The wall: Fragmenting the Palestinian fabric in Jerusalem. Jerusalem:  The Golden Press Brunn, S. D. (2006) ‘Gated Minds and Gated Lives as Worlds of Exclusion and Fear’ in GeoJournal, vol. 66: 5–13 Brunn, S., Andersson, H. and C. Dahlman (2000) ‘Landscaping for power and defence’ (Chapter 4) in Gold, J. R. and Revill, G. (eds) (2000) Landscapes of defence. London: Pearson Education Ltd Caldeira, T. P.  R. (2000) City of walls:  crime, segregation and citizenship in Sao Paulo. Berkeley: University of California Press Calthorpe, P. (1993) The next American metropolis: Ecology, community and the American dream. New York: Princeton Architectural Press Coaffee, J. (2003) Terrorism, Risk and the City. Aldershot: Ashgate Coaffee, J. (2009) Terrorism, Risk and the Global City – towards urban resilience. Aldershot: Ashgate Cook, J. (2010) ‘US funds Israel’s “apartheid” road network’ in The National, 15 May 2010. Available at: http://www.jkcook.net/Articles3/0483.htm (accessed 22 February 2012) Coy, M. (2006) ‘Gated communities and urban fragmentation in Latin America: the Brazilian experience’ in GeoJournal, vol. 66, no. 1–2: 121–32 Csefalvay, Z. (2010) ‘Gated communities for security or prestige? A public choice approach and the case of Budapest’ in International Journal of Urban and Regional Research, vol. 35, no. 4: 735–52 Davis, M. (1990) City of Quartz: Excavating the future in Los Angeles. London: Verso Denyer, S. (1978) African Traditional Architecture. London: Holmes & Meier Publishing, Dobson, J. and Bagaeen, S. (2012) ‘Forces for good: making the most of military land for public benefit’ in Town and Country Planning Journal (journal of the Town and Country Planning Association), vol. 81, no. 4: 192–5 FMEP (Foundation for Middle East Peace) (2004) ‘Israel Proposes a Separate Road Network for Palestinians’ in Settlement Report, vol. 14, no. 6 (November–December) Gold, J. R. and Revill, G. (eds) (2000) Landscapes of defence. London: Pearson Education Ltd

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Havermans, D. and Smeets, J. (2010) ‘Gated communities: a theoretical discussion on place attachment and identity’. Conference chapter presented at the 22nd International Housing Research Conference, ENHR 2010, 2–7 July, Istanbul Le Goix, R. and Webster, C. (2008) ‘Gated communities’ in Geography Compass vol. 2, no. 4: 1189–214 McKenzie, E. (2005) ‘Constructing The Pomerium in Las Vegas: A Case Study of Emerging Trends in American Gated Communities’ in Housing Studies, vol. 20, no. 2: 187–203 Minton, A. (2002) Building balanced communities:  the US and UK compared. London:  RICS Leading Edge Series Oliver, P. (1987) Dwellings: The House across the World. Texas: University of Texas Press Phillips, M. (2000) ‘Landscapes of defence, exclusivity and leisure: rural private communities in North Carolina’ (Chapter 8) in Gold, J. R. and Revill, G. (eds) (2000) Landscapes of defence. London: Pearson Education Ltd Piquard, B. and Swenarton, M. (2011) ‘Learning from architecture and conflict’ in Journal of Architecture, vol. 16, no. 1: 1–13 Priest, C. (2011) ‘The volumes of violence:  representations of conflict through spatial art practice in England’ in Journal of Architecture, vol. 16, no. 1: 89–98 Roitman, S. (2010) ‘The changing image of suburban areas in Latin America and the role of the local government’. Conference chapter presented at ‘Everyday life in the segmented city’, Florence, 22–25 July Rosen, G. and Grant, J. (2011) ‘Reproducing difference: gated communities in Canada and Israel’ in International Journal of Urban and Regional Research, vol. 35, no. 4 (July): 778–93 Rosen, G. And Razin, E. (2009) ‘The rise of gated communities in Israel: reflections on changing urban governance in a neo-liberal era’ in Urban Studies, vol. 46, no. 8: 1702–22 Sardar, Z. (2010) ‘Opening the gates: An East–West transmodern discourse’ in Bagaeen, S. and Uduku, O. (eds) Gated Communities: Social sustainability in contemporary and historical gated developments. London: Earthscan Sassen, S. (2010) ‘Urban gating – one instance of a larger development?’ in Bagaeen, S. and Uduku, O. (eds) Gated Communities: Social sustainability in contemporary and historical gated developments. London: Earthscan Sassen, S. (2012) Cities in a world economy (4th edition). Thousand Oaks, California:  Pine Forge Press Shamir, R. (2005) ‘Without Borders? Notes on Globalization as a Mobility Regime’ in Sociological Theory, vol. 23, no. 2: 197–217 Shirlow, P. (2000) ‘Fundamentalist loyalism:  Discourse, resistance and identity politics’ (Chapter  5) in Gold, J. R. and Revill, G. (eds) Landscapes of defence. London:  Pearson Education Ltd Soffer, A. and Minghi, J.V. (1986) ‘Israel’s security landscapes: the impact of military considerations on land uses’ in Professional Geographer, vol. 38, no. 1: 28–41 Thorp, S. (2003) ‘Enemy at the gates’ in Housing – Chartered Institute of Housing: 24–6 Wilson-Doenges G. (2000) ‘An exploration of sense of community and fear of crime in gated communities’ in Environment and Behavior, vol. 32, no. 5: 597–611 Wu, F. and Webber, K. (2004) ‘The rise of foreign gated communities in Beijing: between economic globalization and local institutions’ in Cities, vol. 21, no. 3: 203–13

2 GATED COMMUNITIES IN A CHANGING GEOPOLITICAL LANDSCAPE An exploratory genealogy of Occupy London P. Stuart Robinson

Imagine a walk westward from Cannon Street tube station early one Sunday morning in October, 2011.You soon catch sight of the imposing, monumental architecture of St Paul’s Cathedral.The striking dome and towers, reflecting the baroque style of Christopher Wren (Norberg-Schulz 2003: 192–4), have made the cathedral one of London’s central landmarks for more than three centuries (Nyong’o 2012: 137). Indeed, it is only in recent decades that is has ceased to dominate the city skyline. As you approach the churchyard (or what Wren would certainly have envisaged as a piazza), however, the ecclesiastical pomp and circumstance is somehow mocked by an unexpected, ironic presence close to the raised portico entrance-way intended to recall the grandeur of an ancient temple. To the north-west of the forecourt there appears to be an encampment, a quite extensive and anarchic collection of tents. They are all shapes and sizes – some shabby, dirty and grey, others resplendent in the brightest of colours. Similarly, colourful banners and signs litter, decorate and unify the site, giving the impression of some strange, nomadic community having surrealistically transported itself here to the gateway of the iconic inner citadel of the Anglican Church. It’s early and it’s a Sunday.The place is unusually quiet, though car traffic is steady as ever, albeit light. This is the only thing to quell a quiet sense of confusion, even foreboding, that all is not well. St Paul’s this morning seems to evoke the popular contemporary trope of dystopia or, ironically enough, the post-apocalyptic. According to this trope, only the shell of civilization remains and life regenerates and continues amidst its social ruins. It does so with an unmistakable and timeless provisionality. Momentarily, at least, the impressive edifices of brick and mortar, steel and concrete, have become disenchanted; and life and meaning seem to reside here, at the foot of the monument. We have begun with a sketch, a striking and certainly far-from-typical sample of imagery from the contemporary urban landscape. The purpose of this sketch is precisely to illustrate a dissonant feature of that landscape.We might address two related

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FIGURE 2.1 Public relations at the Occupy camp. Source: author.

questions arising from this ‘picture’. The first is:  ‘Why is it strange?’ The second is: ‘How, in its strangeness, is it nonetheless possible?’ By considering these obvious questions, we might thereby interrogate this dissonance and begin to uncover its meaning and social relevance. The camp described expresses a particular phenomenon, known vaguely as Occupy. The goal of what follows is to place it in its most meaningful context. This requires us, I will argue, to consider Occupy as a point or moment on a trajectory of disturbing geopolitical change. The word ‘disturbing’, with all its psychological connotations, is chosen deliberately. Occupy is an example of a series of cultural disturbances of some of the symbols and representations comprising our sensible world. Their impact can be assumed to be no more acute than on the psychological level. This chapter will explore the origins of Occupy in what I will argue is a kind of evolving urban praxis. The notion of praxis is intended to capture the way Occupy emerges from certain institutional and material conditions, but also an evolving set of understandings and norms. Placing Occupy in an interpretive context of any value requires an investigative strategy that is part linguistic genealogy and part broad political economy. Such exploratory work also requires some intuitive choices based on a combination of broad empirical observation and imaginative abduction. The value and ‘validity’ of such choices can be assessed reflexively, in terms of their broad empirical plausibility and internal consistency (Bhaskar 2008). One such intuitive choice, conditioning the reflections which follow, is to attempt to understand Occupy as a response to, and continuation of, the renewed salience and revitalized practice of various forms of gating and enclosure.The gating

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FIGURE 2.2 Entrance to St Paul’s. Source: author.

praxis we are about to examine more closely appears to be a reflection of times of geopolitical instability. A great many scholars would concur in characterizing this as a novel or at least extraordinarily intensified globalization, while differing wildly in their interpretations (Harvey 1989; Giddens 1990; Fukuyama 1992; Ruggie 1993; Held 2003; Hardt and Negri 2000; Sassen 2008). Our preliminary sketch illustrates the potential fruitfulness of a line of reasoning which might be thought of as a contribution to a burgeoning rediscovery of geopolitics. As a domain, geopolitics has long been a kind of archetype of statist analysis. Statist assumptions held as a constant, a set of paradigmatic working assumptions; geopolitics has explored the practical conditions of the strategic interactions of states as universally dominant political actors. Such analyses – and the work of Brzezinski (1997) is perhaps the most notable example – build on the theoretical tradition of political realism within

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FIGURE 2.3 Information Tent, Occupy St Paul’s. Source: author.

the field of international relations. Hence, a challenge to traditional geopolitics is a challenge to the unquestioned verities of immortal statecraft. This academic challenge has partly been conditioned by the response to a perceived globalization (Sassen 2008; Harvey 2012). The entrance to St Paul’s, in all its pomp and circumstance, itself represents a kind of gateway. It plays an important role in identifying and helping regulate the terms of the enclosure of the church premises – what is to be regarded as a sacred space. In other words, it marks a boundary between the sacred and the profane, and reproduces a spatial, social and hermeneutical order – a kind of spiritual hierarchy – on the basis of the division. It does so by means of important features and textures of the entrance-way as built environment. The decorations, embellishments and dramatic architectural accents (through the use of pillars and stairs, for example) lend conspicuous grandeur to the passage into the higher realm of the sacred interior. The same passageway as exit, on the other hand, is modest and even partially obscured by the internal symmetries and foci of the interior design. Exit is unobtrusive, even implicitly despised, for this is no more than the outlet, the run-off, to a lower domain: the relatively spiritually impoverished, outside realm of the profane. It is the grandeur of the sacred entranceway, then, upon which the Occupy camp so incongruously intrudes. Such an intrusion carries an undertone of irony, an audacious gesture in the very face of power – partly made possible by the disarming element of humour. As such, it recalls the traditions and tropes of the carnival, especially those miraculous and ironical reversals which are self-negating and disarming in their very absurdity. Its historical roots are deep (Handelman 1990: 51–4),

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arguably even recalling ancient Greek theatre, notable for its comedic and tragic reversals but whose carnivalesque characteristics have been largely overlooked (des Bourvrie 1993, 2012).While elements of the carnival may gently mock power, they will also emphasize their own irrelevance – and harmlessness – by highlighting the absurdity of its opposition. A modest yet conspicuous feature of the camp provides an ironical echo of the approach to St Paul’s.This is the central tent: unprepossessing but also thrust forward, positioned in such a way as to make it seem open and inviting but also unassuming. Its unrestricted corner entrance signals to the passer-by its quiet, organizing role and importance. Flanked by an informational whiteboard, it draws the curious visitor into a sort of combined reception desk and gift shop (though nothing is for sale). It is the public face of Occupy, and the gateway to its not so closely guarded secrets. It is the modest echo and ironical antithesis of, and at the steps of, St Paul’s.

Urban gating: the new debates If there is one development of the late twentieth century that contributes to the impression of geopolitical change, and signals a novel enthusiasm for redrawing and reinforcing urban (or suburban) boundaries, it is the international proliferation of so-called gated communities. Gating is heterogeneous, but by far the most replicable (and thus influential) organizational form is the ‘common interest development’ (CID) (McKenzie 1994; Blakely and Snyder 1997; Glasze et al. 2006).This is based on the principle of the condominium, whereby part of the real estate purchased is held in common. As property sales begin to be orchestrated on a grander – community – scale, the dimensions held in common open up a space which has been increasingly creatively employed to construct a contractually defined social order. Contracts of sale, with their meticulously drafted ‘restrictive covenants’, begin to resemble eternal constitutions of communal association – a sort of social contract by corporate diktat. Analysts regularly treat these as a form of club organization (Glasze 2003; Webster 2007). The effect of this is to naturalize them – as well as related commercial initiatives – from shopping malls to business improvement districts (BIDs); and downplay their significance as social or political innovations. In shaping all-encompassing local rules and authority structures – often within a heavily regulated, autonomous ‘territory’, cordoned off by walls, fences and gates – they nevertheless represent novel experiments in political association, albeit embedded within the broader jurisdiction of the sovereign state (McKenzie 1994). Historically speaking, gated communities per se are not exactly new (McKenzie 1994; Blandy 2006; Atkinson et al. 2005; Le Goix and Callen 2010). The ‘new wave’ of gated communities, initiated by large housing development companies in the United States from the 1970s onwards, was, however, quite new – both in organizational form and scale (Blakely and Snyder 1997). The essential CID model has become a recognized ‘best practice’, albeit modified, as needed, to accommodate a wide variety of juridical orders, replicated in a host of different countries from

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the United Kingdom to China (Glasze et al. 2006; Lee and Webster 2006; Glasze 2006; Grant 2005; Atkinson et al. 2005; Le Goix and Callen 2010; Landman 2010). Remarkably neglected by political scholars, the phenomenon has nevertheless generated considerable interest in the social sciences in general, in what could be characterized as the renewed salience of gating – of which the gated community may be only one of the most conspicuous examples (Davis 1992; Graham 2002; Harvey 2012). Gated communities’ gating decisively demarcates and separates out a residential enclave from its surroundings. It seems plausible to connect this to a more general tendency towards the private delineation and control of social space. This may express itself in more or less aggressive and more or less literal forms of ‘gating’, where this is understood as encompassing the wide variety of methods that might be employed to regulate territorial access. These need not entail the necessity for material structures to be opened or closed: that is, literal gates. The rise of gated communities themselves was prefigured, in the US as well as in other Western countries, by the spread of softer forms of ‘gating’ through the efforts of suburban planning. In the post-war period, especially, this aimed – through location, access restriction and navigability reducing street plans – to lend autonomy to middle-class enclaves (Langdon 1994). At the same time, the latest innovations in the ‘residential sector’ have almost certainly drawn inspiration from the organizational form and regulatory intent of those still more naturalized practices in the retail sector. The political economy of privately managed consumption represented by the ubiquitous shopping mall (Goss 1993; Crawford 1992) is in some measure a precursor to that of privately managed housing. Such developments are echoed in the contemporary public policy fashion for initiating public-private partnerships to create commercially managed BIDs, which can be applied in a huge variety of social-spatial settings – from the replication of the model of the shopping mall on public streets, to the ‘entertainment-industrialization’ of urban green space (Webster 2007; Lee and Webster 2006; Pack 1992; Mitchell 1995; Briffault 1999; McKenzie 2005), creating what Sylke Nissen calls ‘spaces of hybrid character’ (Nissen 2008: 1130). The lessons of mall and CID for public policy are, moreover, more far-reaching and subtle than these most obvious imitations. Strategies of zero tolerance policing – pioneered by the city of New York in the 1990s – echo the commercial system for the control of consumption and residential space in their emphasis of defensible space, and pre-emptive surveillance and profiling (Dubber 2001; Greene 1999; Pinckney 2001). The policing of protest also increasingly applies a comparable  – and even more conspicuous  – divide-and-conquer approach in the controversial use of ‘kettling’ (personal observation, Mayday protest, London, 2001; Mead 2012; Nyong’o 2012: 143; Townsend 2010). Finally, the public security hysteria that followed the 9/11 attacks has helped entrench the routine application of similar techniques (defensible space, surveillance and profiling) to transportation nodes and stations, and to national borders (Shamir 2005; Shearing and Wood 2003). Let us set aside for the moment the question of what might be driving such a cross-sector trend, given the major organizational and (arguably) political-economic

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qualities shared by shopping malls and CIDs, as well as the host of hybrid forms of public-private partnerships equipped to control and manage strategic parcels of urban space. Let us first consider more carefully the character of some of these shared qualities. We might thereby conceptualize more clearly – and on a more abstract level – what appears to have been happening in recent decades in what, in the light of globalizing tendencies, we might describe as the ‘cosmopolitan-metropolitan’ environment (Sassen 2008). It might also provide us with better crafted analytical tools for urban analysis per se, that we might see more clearly the relationship between such apparently disparate phenomena as the gated community and the Occupy protest. We might begin by examining more closely the character of gating itself as both a concept and a social practice.

Urban gating: structures and processes The scholarly examination of gated communities remains remarkably silent on the subject of their most conspicuous feature:  the entrance-way, or gate. These tend to be treated as a given, the centrepiece of the enclave per se, and thus the natural extension or focal point of the typical walls, fences or other barriers which mark off the exclusive territory from the world outside. The most telling illustration of the problem is provided by those analysts who have distinguished themselves by paying close analytical attention to the internal workings of zones of private governance – whether employing the tools of social anthropology, like Setha Low (2001, 2003) and Matthew Durington (2006); or those of political science, like Evan Mckenzie (1994, 2003, 2005). Even these especially acute observers have little to say about gating itself as a practice.The gates’ relatively crude portrayal as simple, albeit imperfect barriers, is betrayed in statements like ‘[t]he gates provide some protection but they would still like more’ (Low 2001: 55) and ‘gates and walls also have an impact on children and their relationship to other people and environments’ (p. 56); or their tacit equation with the walls they punctuate in the suggestion that – in the South African context  – ‘these spaces can serve as markers of segregation and continued class exploitation’ (Durington 2006: 150). Like many terms that constitute the far-too-seldom-questioned familiar furniture of the social sciences, they tend to be more clearly revealed by the use of a certain semantic strategy. This is to consider them quite deliberately in their verbal, rather than their substantive, form. It is precisely the facile acceptance of the substantive gate that conceals the active practice of gating, which it presupposes. Whereas walls and fences are relatively fixed features  – structures of some importance in the relatively enduring restrictions they place on the urban (or suburban) social space – gates are rather more contingent and more implicated in an ongoing practice. Active walling (or fencing) is a relatively transitory episode, with relatively enduring consequences. Such boundaries of the gated community – having been licenced, financed and implemented – enter the social landscape for better or worse, carving out a place with a certain presence and meaning

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within the broader space in which they have been inserted. Gates and gating are something else entirely. According to the famous – and notorious – dictum of Carl Schmitt, ‘sovereign is he who decides the exception’ (1985 [1922]). What this aphorism reveals so succinctly is the indispensability in politics – and not least in the practice of modern states (self-consciously constitutionalist ones, or otherwise) – of the agent and her discriminatory practice. This is the core manner in which the order and rules of a political association are reproduced, and, to some degree (and as required and licenced), modified. Such discriminating (or discriminatory) judgements constitute the irreducible acts of ruling that any system of rules presupposes, however mystified and idealized in terms of abstract, universal or sacred national principles. Michael Oakeshott draws our attention to the important distinction between the ‘office of rule’ and its human office-holder (1975: 198) It is the latter and her constitutive agency that liberal constitutionalists tend to neglect, thus overlooking a paradox intrinsic to any polity. This is the way in which its core identity and praxis are most clearly revealed, and most actively reproduced, at its very edges, whether in metaphorical or literal terms – whether we are talking about the extreme transgressor on the moral edge of acceptable society, or the means by which physical-spatial outsiders are held at bay or conditionally admitted, at the physical edges of the ‘body politic’. The value of attention to what may be ‘drawn more vividly at the edge’ is itself an argument for taking seriously the urban role of suburban enclaves, as Low acknowledges (2001: 45). The issue of admittance – and its conditionality – is an important one because this goes to the essence of gating practices. It is much too readily assumed that the gate is to be understood exclusively  – or almost so  – as a barrier to entry. In the geography of the enclave, in particular, the gate’s primary function is to allow – under conditions of the appropriate authority’s choosing – entry. In other words they are there, quite literally, to be opened. So the first conceptual step to a more rigorous social scientific analysis is to focus on the openness of the gate as the key variable. All gates are open (at least some of the time); the question is how open, according to what conditions, and on whose authority. Conceptualizing gating properly draws attention to the two central questions we need to consider to give an account of this phenomenon and other related ones, as we will see: (1) how open are the gates, and (2) how are they opened? Let us consider, for a start, how this helps us better understand gated communities.

Gated communities The majority of work on gated communities falls into the trap warned against so perspicaciously in that classic work of organizational theory, Essence of Decision by Graham Allison (1971):  the rational-actor model. That such a majority is to be observed is hardly surprising, since all warnings notwithstanding the rational (or public) choice model has achieved a remarkable dominance across an astonishing

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range of social scientific fields. This is hardly a contentious claim; but consider, by way of broad illustration, two examples  – the dominance of the field of international relations by neo-liberal institutionalism and its preferred game-theoretic methodology (Viotti and Kauppi 2010: 118–84; Axelrod 2006), and the influential work of Putnam (2000) in sociology. With this in mind, it would hardly be surprising if it should appear to many to be a kind of heresy to dismiss this rich vein of research and analysis as having fallen into the trap. This is not the place for a sustained critique of the rational choice scholarly tradition, or of its epistemological foundations in a particular kind of methodological individualism. For our purposes it will suffice to demonstrate the plausibility of the ‘trap’ thesis not just by reference to Allison’s classic complaints but also to the example of the rational actor model in action in the gated communities literature – and the problems this raises. A lengthy exegesis of such approaches is likewise beyond the ambit of this study, but we might nonetheless note some broad, common tendencies that it should be reasonably clear most of them share. The application of the rational actor model leads to the very common presupposition (rather than inquiry into this as a question to be considered empirically) that home owners choose to enter a gated community for clear and intelligible reasons, usually assumed to be security-related (extrapolated from the physical evidence of gates and walls).Thus, it is also implicitly assumed that the terms of gating are reducible to the rational decisions of discriminating real estate consumers. This is a central assumption, for example, of the hugely influential work of Blakely and Snyder (1997). In short, the denizens (or citizens, as they would scarcely be called) themselves control access according to conditions roughly determined by the requirements (usually) of maximized security. An argument spelling this out will not readily be found. It is, rather, a more-or-less conscious assumption regularly implied (and rarely interrogated) by the overwhelming majority of gated community studies. A quite explicit and categorical statement is nevertheless to be found in the work of Chris Webster. His analysis of the political economy of urban design and public space, in particular, is conspicuous for its analytical rigour and clarity (2007). As such, it reveals especially clearly the key – yet often implicit – assumptions that dominate the study of urban gating. Webster points out (2007: 82–3; 94–6) the instability and tendency towards dysfunction of the more purely public spaces, which he describes as an example of Hardin’s ‘tragedy of the commons’. Over time, such spaces will tend to be overused, as each individual gains from its use but has no interest in self-restraint to protect the space as a common resource from degradation – since she is unwilling and unable to take on the burden of its protection as merely one individual among many. It is therefore natural and desirable (and, of course, rational) that those relatively local actors – those who have a greater metaphorical and/or literal investment in the space – choose to more-or-less conditionally restrict access, and thereby institute better-managed consumption.The club form is, in these terms, an ideal model  – embodying local rationality, valued both for its economic efficiency and its expression of the freedom of the autonomous individual (ibid.: 96–8). Webster characterizes the tendency towards spatial fragmentation – in keeping with

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Hardin – as a kind of natural law of urban space. This begs the question to what degree such tendencies reflect the rather more specific circumstances we might describe as the twilight years of the welfare state.These have witnessed the enhancement of transnational corporate power and the decisive neo-liberal turn of public policy on a near global scale. Such circumstances feature in Don Mitchell’s much less sanguine account of the assault on public space (1995). What, for Webster, is the uninhibited expression of freedom defined as material satisfaction, especially qua the enjoyment of private property, for Mitchell is an infringement upon that more open-ended and (especially) political freedom associated with public space as something more than an arena of aggregate consumption. Such spaces, he argues, represent the crucial vehicle of a kind of democratic visibility for all who might be considered a part of the body politic. Social anthropological research, on the other hand, has used the tool of ethnography to gain greater insight into the mentality and ‘culture’ of the gated community dweller, as exemplified by the work of Setha Low (2001, 2003). This certainly takes us beyond the a priori supposition of rational, instrumental and material self-interest. Nonetheless, Low and others (see, for example, Durington 2006) tend to beg the following question: what process brought such dwellers into the ‘community’ in the first place.The statements of interviewees are too readily taken at face value; that is, as realistic accounts of choices made. This ignores the broader context of a dominant (Western, or at least capitalist) individualistic culture (Robinson 2002) which predisposes us to emphasize our own agency and downplay social-structural constraints (Robinson 1994). Given CIDs’ overwhelming dominance of large parts of the American real estate market, for example, what meaning should we attribute to denizens’ explanations of ‘why they chose to live in this kind of environment’? In this sense, the kind of question posed by researchers such as Elena Vesselinov (for example: ‘Why do households choose to live behind “velvet” bars?’) is inclined to generate misleading answers (2008: 539). Let us illustrate briefly the outlines of an alternative approach, one based not on the model of a kind of consumer choice, but rather on the model of the requirements of the exercise of political power in its purest form  – that is, the exercise of a kind of sovereign licence or warrant. By paying closer attention to precisely this central and immediate aspect of the process of gating, it should be possible to highlight some important difficulties with interpreting this process or, more precisely, agency as a straightforward response to – let alone satisfaction of – consumer demand. Large housing development companies devise the general thrust of CID gating with clear objectives in mind. They do so with assiduous attention to detail in the drafting of whatever restrictive covenants might be attached to the contract of sale for each new prospective homeowner – and in such a way as to achieve such objectives most effectively. Ideally, the management company will then administer these rules passively, but painstakingly, under the general oversight of a homeowner association whose mandate does not extend much beyond the parameters of how to ensure with maximum reliability that the predetermined rules be upheld by fellow

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homeowners or their tenants. Hence, what distinguishes such gating is how extraordinarily rigid and static it is on a day-to-day level. The primary objective is to obtain the highest price possible for each individual property. The strategy for doing so is to maximize the chances that the buyer will, first of all, regard this as a desirable place to live; and second, and perhaps most importantly, regard herself as having reasonable grounds to expect a further accumulation of value in that property, and thus increasing equity, in the coming years. The objective is pursued by means of a remarkably sophisticated system (based on a detailed blueprint of rules and roles) of social control. This is designed with a view to impression management – for the initial buyer as well as potential future buyers. The initial buyer should gain a positive impression, but she should also have some assurance that future purchasers are likely to be similarly impressed. In these terms, the ‘community’ and its rules are designed to reflect the demands of the ‘20-minute house’ – i.e. the practical window in which both a house and its location are typically marketed to any prospective buyer (Langdon 1994: 71). The restrictive covenants should ensure, year in and year out, that the pristine conditions of the desired 20-minute first impression of community property be preserved to the utmost. It remains open to question as to the degree to which such ‘security features’ serve security goals – as opposed to the construction of a clearly defined, distinguished and attractive location – as a key determinant of real estate value. One key element of the real estate package is, naturally, the construction and operation of the community’s entrance-way or gate. (In the case of some of the larger developments there may, of course, be several such entrance-ways.) The gate is a carefully conceived and constructed architectural feature. First, it is designed to be attractive in itself. Its ornamentation and style are meant to suggest promise, in some degree the promise of security but also the more vague anticipation of possibility that is offered by passage into an inner sanctum.The gate, in short, is designed to sell exclusivity, paradoxically by simultaneously exciting and reassuring outside observers. Moreover, the gate presents a portal, a prospective passage which is also a view and thus, of course, a perhaps decisive (in all-important economic terms) first impression. In this respect the gate should ensure that the pleasant attributes of a propitious environment should be stylishly framed and adorned. In this way the first function of gating is fulfilled – selective attraction; that is, to draw to the enclave the right kind of visitor. In the best case scenario this would be the prospective homeowner. The final, and perhaps most important feature of the gate is how it (or rather its keeper) regulates passage, i.e. the conditions under which it is open to  – and the conditions attached to – entry. Here we are into the very heart of the human agency of the gate, the day-to-day business of gatekeeping. The criteria of entry are simple  – residence or invitation  – but their practical application nevertheless entail a complex political economy of control. For a typical gated community of adequate size, a development company will draft the criteria in the form of restrictive covenants attached to the property’s bill of sale, the homeowner association will enact them, the management company administer them, and, finally, the private

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security guards will apply and enforce them on a case-by-case basis, monitoring and apprehending all potential intruders with the help of surveillance technology that is likely to include electronic tracking and CCTV cameras as well as human judgement in the form of profiling and evaluation. Thus fulfilled is gating’s second function – selective admittance. As suggested above, this expresses a more general trend towards profiling in the regulation of global human flows, a trend that preceded (but was catalyzed by) the onset of the so-called War on Terror (Shearing and Wood 2003). According to Shamir (2005) this has developed the attributes of a kind of global ‘mobility regime’, of which we might reasonably consider CIDs to be a part. The overall governance of the typical CID – i.e. how community life is broadly regulated – is not our chief concern here. We might nonetheless briefly consider how this general form relates to gating. Schmitt’s consideration of sovereignty plays with an interesting and important ambiguity  – the polity’s relationship with the outside and the assertion of the norm (even, and especially, in the sovereign act of violation).The rules of the community can of course be understood as a metaphorical gating, where certain kinds of conduct, and, ultimately, residents, are embraced – while others are excluded.We are interested specifically in the passage and its selective opening and closing. Nevertheless, the highly restrictive conditions of entry cannot be understood without some awareness of how they fit into and reflect the institutional order as a whole. This represents a rigorous system of social control derived from very clear and narrow economic objectives, implemented by means of juridical attention to detail in the design of the product and its contractual conditions qua the collective mode of existence. The saleability of the product reflects the degree to which it can be marketed as providing a desirable common – albeit individualistic – lifestyle.

Networks of power and social relations The gated community reflects and illustrates the distinctive historical conditions from which it has emerged.We might pause briefly to sketch the political economic outlines of such conditions. The gated community has emerged in an era marked by major organizational and technological innovation in the corporate organization of production, a process that has facilitated a huge expansion in the operations of large, transnational corporations (TNCs) – hence the further concentration of capital in the hands of increasingly large and – in the long run – increasingly oligopolistic actors. This small ‘industrial revolution’ has also facilitated and demanded the continued and accelerated expansion of global financial markets. David Harvey (1989) argues that such innovations represent a kind of post-Fordist industrial revolution. The grounds for such a claim lie in the increasingly complex coordination of heterogeneous, and commonly transnational, chains of production. Since the 1970s complex networks of finely tuned coordination have increasingly superseded, or at least supplemented, the traditional automated factory site of mass production. This has facilitated, in turn, more fine-tuning of products and their more

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dynamic upgrading  – hence the trend to supplement and/or replace mass- with niche-marketing. These developments have further strengthened products’ built-in obsolescence, a major contribution to the perfection of what – as long ago as 1958 – Hannah Arendt dubbed ‘the waste economy’ (1958: 138). Organizationally, corporations rely on the close coordination of disparate elements in the production chain. This chain continually blurs the lines of corporate identity. Outsourcing may entail tight control over, for example, software programmers or garment-assembling sweatshops, while placing them formally outside the boundaries of the corporation itself. The increasingly blurred lines of identity and responsibility are not wasted on corporations themselves. Witness the response of the multinational clothing retailer, Primark, in promptly paying compensation to victims of the collapse of a building that housed its (as well as other retailers’) garment suppliers, in Savar, Bangladesh, in April 2013 (Al-Mahmood et al. 2013). The dominance of oligopolistic capital throws into question Webster’s (2007) characterization of private spatial initiatives as the expression of local sensitivity, and the contrast he draws between this and the crude insensitivity of government initiatives. As McKenzie (2003: 226) persuasively shows, the thrust – and even much of the detail – of CIDs’ restrictive covenants are remarkably homogeneous. They represent a ‘best practice’ faithfully replicated according to the familiar pattern of post-Fordist networked coordination. Moreover, the state, far from being transcended by individual initiative, regularly collaborates with such vested interests – if necessary – against the grain of popular resistance. McKenzie (2005) demonstrates this in his study of the City of Las Vegas’s aggressive project to wall and gentrify an established inner city neighbourhood; as does Mitchell (1995) in his account of how ‘the Establishment’ domesticated Berkeley’s ‘People’s Park’. In this respect Webster can be charged with expressing what Karl Polanyi (1944) would call ‘market utopianism’:  that is, romanticizing an idealized model of the competitive market  – impossible to achieve in practice – and hailing the ubiquitous application of ‘market forces’ (regardless of context or social consequences) that follow from markets’ necessary ‘social embeddedness’. Outsourcing, in turn, has become the most popular means by which the state might preserve its role of setting broad public policy objectives while delegating the practical provision of services, where possible, to private enterprise. In this regard, governments both feed the further concentration of capital, and mimic corporations’ own post-Fordist organizational innovations. It is post-Fordist industrial development and the concentration of capital, on the one hand, and the related rise of the public-private-partnership (PPP), or ‘hollow’ state (Milward and Provan 2000), on the other, that constitute the key political-economic conditions of gated communities as outsourced local government.These dovetail with other related and contributory developments, some of which we might note briefly here: outsourced policing and the growth of private security; the more-or-less tacit global sharing of ‘best practice’ governance strategies (of which kettling is certainly an example); and other outsourced infrastructures or public frameworks, including shopping malls, urban transit systems and railways. Outsourcing as manifested in public policy

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FIGURE 2.4 Occupy St Paul’s camp. Source: author.

through various forms of privatization, typically involves intensified gating practices, i.e. imposing stronger conditions of entry to these public-made-private spaces (such as the shopping mall, to take the most obvious example). Note how the CID, in particular, exemplifies the coordinated network form of post-Fordist production. It is a mistake to prioritize, as many analysts do, local triggers to account for their incidence (Atkinson et al. 2005; Bagaeen and Uduku 2010; Dupuis and Dixon 2010). Though they may well resonate in different ways with local, historical antecedents – from English medieval walled towns, to South African pass-controls – these are permissive, not decisive conditions. Even where the initiative seems to come from local, as opposed to transnational enterprises – as Le Goix and Callen note in their investigation of French gated communities (2010) – such firms are still responding to the impulse of informal but insistent networks as much as any Bangladeshi sweat-shop does. Indeed, the CID could be regarded as taking post-Fordism to the next logical step by embodying not only the remote control of distant places, but also – through detailed restrictive covenants established, in principle at least in perpetuity – the remote control of (and immediate financial return upon) the distant future.

New geographies of urban gating Described above is the political-economic landscape upon which the Occupy Wall Street (OWS) protest action and its imitators appeared in the autumn of 2011.There

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are two key aspects to the way the Occupy initiatives relate to this landscape that we might identify. Let us deal with these in turn. One is the character of the Occupy camps as reactions to a specific (and ongoing) period of turbulence in the global economy: the financial crisis of 2007–08 and the sovereign debt crises following in its wake.This shaped the substantive character and focus of the protest. The focus was on financial institutions, hence the location of OWS, and the British action it more-or-less spawned – which began in and never strayed far from Paternoster Square, the heart of London’s financial district. The number one issue driving the activists who set things in motion, if we are to believe their own statements, was perceived economic mismanagement and associated conspicuous inequality – now exacerbated by the crisis – and how this underscored the complicity and essential elitism of political institutions. The other key aspect of the way Occupy relates to the political-economic landscape, and the one upon which we will focus in what follows, was probably more the effect of the occupation itself than something encoded into its conception or design. The peculiar impact and power of the Occupy actions – from Zuccotti Park to St Paul’s Cathedral – lay in the reactions they provoked and the severe limitations such reactions revealed in the practical application of supposedly cherished liberal-democratic – or republican – ideals of public space, freedom of expression and citizenship. It is here, especially, we can see the peculiar relationship of these occupations of putative public space to the recent history of gating as a social and political practice. A central dynamic of Occupy – as well as other protests and uprisings of that year, starting with the regional chain reaction of popular uprisings dubbed the ‘Arab Spring’ – related to the kind of space it disturbed and the reaction it provoked. The reaction varied enormously from case to case, but what they all shared was a revelatory quality – making clearer the logic of control of such apparently public spaces, and the latent mechanisms of power brought into play by this kind of challenge. As if by a kind of dialectic or an aesthetic of virtuous contrast, the Occupy actions engaged in what, in this context, looked like an ironic demonstration of the democratic and egalitarian principles so conspicuous by their absence in the response of authorities. The overall impression of the different manifestations of the Occupy ‘brand’ suggests that Occupy London was not exceptional in this regard. I therefore present a short consideration of Occupy London on the not implausible assumption that it was somewhat representative. To place this in the broadest possible context, then, what follows is a case study to examine the claim that this – and other actions like it  – can be usefully understood as responses to new developments in urban geopolitics, which can best be described as peculiarly oppressive forms of gating. What we have loosely termed Occupy London began on 15 October 2011 as Occupy London Stock-exchange – though it quickly metamorphosed into Occupy St Paul’s (Cathedral). The attempt to occupy Paternoster Square was swiftly and efficiently thwarted. This apparently public square is in fact privately owned. The defence of its ‘sanctity’ had been well prepared with a court injunction to prevent public access (directed against potential protesters), which the police were at the

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ready to enforce.The barred protesters spilled out across another sacred domain, but one much less zealously protected, the churchyard of St Paul’s Cathedral. The actions of occupation intrinsically opened up the possibility of exposing the corruption of public space, but this was only achieved with the help of some rather acute reflections on the part of activists about what they had done and what it meant. Such reflection was partly based on their own research, prompted by the experiences of the occupation itself (and to some degree aided by volunteer lawyers and academics), into the institutions they had disturbed. The protestors’ exclusion from Paternoster Square illustrated the often largely invisible privatization of what are customarily taken to be public spaces, and the ready collaboration of public law-and-order services to enforce their exclusivity and the socially foundational right of private property. Other rather more shadowy and more-or-less public institutions were also progressively brought into the light of day by the protesters’ transgression of the domain and property of the Anglican Church, and of the jurisdiction of that unique institution of local government – the City of London Corporation. The camp presence created divisions in the Church. More than one internal figure rejected the thesis that the camp should be evicted – especially since this was likely to require the use of force (Nyong’o 2012: 137). No less than three of them went so far as to resign in protest (Ward 2011). Interestingly, the chief objection to the camp, and the consideration that seemed to have most weight in determining that it must be cleared, was its detrimental impact on the site’s commercial operations.The Church expressed concerns that the encampment would discourage visitors and thereby affect revenues from church tours. Indeed, the leadership took the costly step of closing the building to visitors on health and safety grounds (Walker and Butt 2011). In this way the camp, by virtue of its proximity to the main cathedral entrance, impinged upon and revealed the gating practices of the Anglican Church  – sufficiently so to provoke unwanted public attention, as well as some soul-searching and conflict within the Church’s own ranks, all of which was tantamount to an identity crisis. To what extent had public ecclesiastical institutions themselves devolved into private, commercially motivated actors? Had they themselves (much more than the prosaic encroachments of Occupy) thus profaned what was sacred? Eventually the Church effected a kind of compromise by not actively seeking eviction, but rather passively acquiescing in the legal process begun by the City of London. The confrontation Occupy provoked with the latter, more shadowy, institution, was perhaps the most revealing and defining of them all. The institutions of this local authority still reflect their medieval roots, consolidated by royal edict in 1649 (Nyong’o 2012: 147) and much in defiance (however discrete) of more modern  – liberal and democratic  – principles. The influential commentator George Monbiot went so far as to call it a ‘plutocracy’ (2011). The City of London’s decisions are shaped by the block voting of financial institutions, and are shrouded in secrecy. At the same time it enjoys unique rights of access to Parliament, and autonomous control of its own police force. In its conflict with Occupy, the corporation seemed to come much more clearly into focus as the

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central vehicle of London’s financial elite and the guardian of its interests. This would include, of course, advocacy of the sort of deregulation that must bear some of the responsibility for the continued and progressive concentration of wealth in the hands of offshore financial interests, as well as the global calamity of the financial crisis of 2007–08. Moreover, the camp became a base for further strategic and symbolically powerful (albeit short-lived) occupations – including a disused court and school, both of which were demolished shortly after the successful eviction of the activists. Each eviction served to illustrate both the apparent impoverishment of the public realm and the indifference of public authorities. Perhaps the most symbolically and rhetorically powerful ‘spin-off ’ occupation, however, was the institution of the so-called ‘Bank of Ideas’. Occupation of the disused Union Bank of Switzerland (UBS) office buildings provided a powerful illustration of economic practices that were open to criticism as both unsustainable and grossly unjust.The empty office buildings are suggestive of a crisis of massive wealth concentration and the consequent chronic underutilization of resources for productive purposes. Their occupation, precisely as a site on which to explore and criticize problems with the global banking and finance sectors, represented a kind of semiotic masterstroke. The substantive critique and resistance of powerful institutions and actors – such as the City of London, the national Church and global banking interests – is quite explicit and readily identified. More subtle but equally important was the demonstration effect of the encampment and organization itself, which drew a pointed contrast with its adversaries. On this more symbolic level, the effect of Occupy was to attack the institutional compromise – or even betrayal – of central, almost unquestioned, Western ideals; and to provide an illustration of just how such values might be more seriously embodied in the example of its own constitutive and deliberative praxis.The centrepiece was the daily spectacle of the General Assembly – open to all (which could run to hundreds) – debating issues and making collective decisions. Its further work and new initiatives would stem from the working groups, also open to all, which would deal with specific issues only loosely guided by the Assembly, and report back to it. Let us take care not to underestimate the extraordinary openness of these decision-making organs. Such experiments in direct democracy have, historically (and the local decision-making organs known as ‘soviets’ that were established at the onset of the Russian Revolution of 1917 constitute one example), typically entailed some prior constitution and hence exclusivity of the relevant body or ‘body politic’. By contrast, there is no principle of exclusion at work in the activities of Occupy London.There is no residence requirement, for example; nor any criteria to determine adequate contribution to, and thus membership of, the movement. Being a part of the movement (as well as the character and extent of one’s participation) is a simple individual choice that is open, in principle, to anyone. Let us distil the ideas and principles which appear to animate and guide the praxis of Occupy London. The first is the principle of direct democratic governance whose egalitarian purity is to be ensured by making every effort to avoid it

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devolving into a hierarchy  – including the hierarchy necessarily entailed in the mechanism of representation (considered so indispensible to the modern nation state), however democratically this mechanism might be constituted. Coupled with this principle is a radical commitment to openness and transparency as being the ideals of free (i.e unrestricted by social hierarchy) and responsible (as made accountable by publicity) debate and agency. The commitment to openness – not only as the kind of procedural transparency described above but also the resistance of social or intellectual closure – runs deep: deep enough to be considered a profound culture of openness. This is to be observed in the relative socio-economic and demographic diversity of participants, but also in their discursive approach. In my own first-hand observations (at regular intervals over the course of several months at the encampment at St Paul’s in 2011–12), encounters with visitors were never confrontational but rather uniformly conciliatory and tolerant of opposing views. Participants were similarly uniform, on the other hand, in their objection to having their activities or agendas labelled in accordance with customary political terminology. They were universally unwilling to be characterized as left wing or socialist in orientation, for example (participant observation of Occupy St Paul’s and the School of Ideas [6 visits], November 2011 to April 2012).

The future of urban gating: critical perspectives Having conceptualized the practice of gating, we are in a better position to see the way Occupy confronts and engages with it. Even where the obvious physical trappings are absent, it is possible to see the similarities between Occupy and more conspicuous instances of gating. Perhaps the most conspicuous and, in many ways, most typical, is the one we have already discussed at some length: the gated community. Having established more clearly such comparative-conceptual parameters, we are also in a better position to understand the character of Occupy’s deviation from what we could loosely describe as ‘the norm’ of contemporary urban geopolitical practice. Like the gated community, Occupy exercises a degree of control over a determinate geographical area, and a set of social relationships and activities more-or-less confined to it. It has, in other words, a sort of zone of operations – or domain. In these terms it constitutes, like the gated community, a limited form of community. Like the gated community, Occupy influences the conditions of access to its domain from outside. The key difference lies in the radical open-door (or gate) policy adopted by Occupy. Conditions of entry are forsaken in favour of an open-ended egalitarianism that rejects even the premise of a definable body politic, or membership. Occupy presents a gateway in the form of a threshold of possibility, an open portal to its curious social experiment in free and critical thinking, and personal decision-making and empowerment. At the same time it juxtaposes this radical open-door strategy with the conspicuous logic of elitist and restrictive gating, not

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least the closed gates of Paternoster Square, and, for a while, the closed doors of St Paul’s Cathedral. Let us ponder for a moment the ‘radicalness’ and meaning of the ‘Occupy approach’. We might supplement its stark contrast with the gated community and related privatizations by seeing the contrast even with its own insurrectionary forebears. The blockade of the trade unionist picket line, or the obstruction of the civil rights sit-in  – to name a couple of historical examples  – are here exchanged for a symbolic juxtaposition and opening of a conspicuously alternative social space. This reflects the roots of the movement in prior culture jamming initiatives and organizations, one whose chief weapon was that last and most post-modern resort of the thoroughly disempowered: irony (McKay 1996, 1998). Arch culture jammers Ad Busters, for example, appear to have played a central role in the initiation of Occupy Wall Street (OWS) (Gitlin 2012). Occupy builds, in a more general way, on a kind of communications technology-based social networking culture. Like other transnational movements which achieved their apogee in the 1990s – including Critical Mass and Reclaim the Streets – Occupy reflects a kind of social network ‘shareware’ philosophy. It builds on and further develops what might be considered a contemporary tradition of open source social resistance and self-expression. Perhaps the most radical feature of Occupy is its combination of the openness described above with a socially progressive agenda. The open-door policy had another important consequence, turning the site into a kind of beacon for steadily increasing numbers of marginalized and impoverished. At the camp they found food and shelter – the former provided mainly by freely given donations (interview with Occupy activist, St Paul’s, London, February 2012). In this way Occupy forged a discursive connection between the fundamentally divergent values of liberalism and democracy (revolving around the notion of the freedom and empowerment of all individuals), and socialism, as a model of radical egalitarianism and inclusion. The putative incompatibility of such values and their associated political agendas has become an article of faith of a neo-liberal and post-Stalinist society. One cannot underestimate the importance of Occupy’s challenge to these kinds of unquestioned presuppositions.

Conclusion We have attempted to make sense of the contemporary urban environment in general, and the Occupy movement in particular, as expressions of a new, globalizing geopolitics. The case is made for conceptualizing this in terms of the active practice of gating. The case is supported by using this as a conceptual framework, which might facilitate a more rigorous comparison – and interpretation of the interrelationship  – of such apparently disparate phenomena as the gated community and the Occupy protest. Thus, brought into clearer focus are both what gated communities and Occupy share regarding their territorial gating, and what

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distinguishes them regarding their tendencies towards radical closure and opening, respectively. The similarities and differences plausibly reflect the meaning and origins of Occupy. The encampment and its spin-offs make a self-conscious and dialectical statement – partly in the form of physical, spatial revelation – in opposition to an elitist spatial (as well as economic) oppression. Important in this respect are: first, the symbolic and ironic placement of its activities; second, the demonstration effect of a practice clearly more in keeping with foundational liberal-democratic values than the institutions it exposes and critiques; and, last but not least, the combination of such practice with socialist initiatives commonly assumed to be anathema to such values. Debate rages on about the meaning and significance of Occupy. On the one hand it may be dismissed for having failed to achieve concrete policy concessions. On the other, it is lauded for nevertheless having changed the language and terms of debate by, among other things, bringing issues of inequality and social injustice back to centre stage, from where they have so long been conspicuous by their absence (Calhoun 2013). The most important legacy of Occupy, I  would argue, lies in its praxis. It succeeded in carving out a progressively gated space, and a definitively public one, for a bold experiment in emancipatory social and political practice – one that even succeeded in ‘occupying’ the attention, for a while, of a largely unenthused media. As such, Occupy London marks an important precedent and discursive triumph. Its legacy will not quickly fade from living, or any other form of memory. First, ‘associates’ of the Occupy movement continue to be active in a similar way to previous ‘generations’ before them – the pioneers of Critical Mass, Reclaim the Streets, and squatted social centres, for example. Second, Occupy has built on some important innovations and lessons learned by its forebears – learning from them just as future activists may in turn learn from Occupy. This is the continually evolving genealogy and episteme of the contemporary geopolitical struggle, a struggle borne of an urban environment that is one of the world’s most heavily – and proactively – policed. In this important regard the radical ‘open gaters’ of Occupy promise to be a source of inspiration and education for an increasingly revitalized radical left – whatever name it may choose to call itself – for years to come. This means, among other things, that the continued march of private or hybrid urban enclosure will most likely also continue to provoke social and political resistance.

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Atkinson, R., Blandy, S. and Lister, D (2005) ‘Gated Cities of Today?’ in The Town Planning Review, vol. 76, no. 4: 401–22 Axelrod, R. (2006) The Evolution of Cooperation. New York: Basic Books Bagaeen, S. and Uduku, O. (2010) ‘Gated Histories: An Introduction to Themes and Concepts’ in S. Bagaeen and O. Uduku (eds) Gated Communities: Social Sustainability in Contemporary and Historical Gated Developments. London: Earthscan: 1–8 Bhaskar, R. (2008) A Realist Theory of Science. London: Routledge Blakely, E. J. and Snyder, M. G. (1997) Fortress America: Gated Communities in the United States. Cambridge, Mass.: Brookings Institution Press Blandy, S. (2006) ‘Gated Communities in England:  Historical Perspectives and Current Developments’ in GeoJournal, vol. 66: 15–26 Briffault, R. (1999) ‘A Government for Our Time? Business Improvement Districts and Urban Governance’ in Columbia Law Review, vol. 99, no. 2: 365–477 Brzezinski, Z. (1997) The Grand Chessboard: American Primacy and its Geostrategic Imperatives. New York: Basic Books Calhoun, C. (2013) ‘Occupy Wall Street in Perspective’ in British Journal of Sociology, vol. 64, no. 1: 26–38 Crawford, M. (1992) ‘The World in a Shopping Mall’ in M. Sorkin (ed.) Variations on a Theme Park: The New American City and the End of Public Space. New York: Noonday Press Davis, M. (1992) City of Quartz: Excavating the Future in Los Angeles. London: Vintage Books des Bouvrie, S. (1993) ‘Teateret under Akropolis’ (The Theatre under the Acropolis) in Ø. Andersen and T. Hagg (eds) I Skyggen av Akropolis (In the Shadow of the Acropolis). Bergen: Klassisk Institutt des Bouvrie, S. (2012), ‘Greek Festivals and the ritual Process:  An Inquiry into the Olympia-cum Heraia and The Great Dioysia’ in J. R. Brandt (ed.) Greek and Roman Festivals: Content, Meaning, and Practice. Oxford: Oxford University Press: 53–93 Dupuis, A. and Dixon, J. (2010) ‘Barriers and Boundaries: An Exploration of Gatedness in New Zealand’ in S. Bagaeen and O. Uduku (eds) Gated Communities: Social Sustainability in Contemporary and Historical Gated Developments. London: Earthscan: 115–130 Dubber, D. (2001) ‘Policing Possession: The War on Crime and the End of Criminal Law’ in Journal of Criminal Law and Criminology, vol. 91, no. 4: 829–96 Durington, M. (2006) ‘Race, Space and Place in Suburban Durban:  An Ethnographic Assessment of Gated Community Environments and Residents’ in GeoJournal, vol. 66, no. 1–2, 147–60 Fukuyama, F. (1992) The End of History and the Last Man. New York: Free Press Giddens, A. (1990) The Consequences of Modernity. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press Gitlin, T. (2012) Occupy Nation:  The Roots, the Spirit, and the Promise of Occupy Wall Street. New York: HarperCollins Glasze, G. (2003) ‘Private Neighbourhoods as Club Economies and Shareholder Democracies’ in BelGeo, vol. 1: 87–98 Glasze, G. (2006) ‘Segregation and Seclusion:  The Case of Compounds for Western Expatriates in Saudi Arabia’ in GeoJournal, vol. 66, no. 1–2, 83–8 Glasze, G., Webster, C. and Frantz, K. (eds) (2006) Private Cities: Global and Local Perspectives. London: Routledge Goss, J. (1993) ‘The “Magic of the Mall”:  An Analysis of Form, Function, and Meaning in the Contemporary Retail Built Environment’ in Annals of the Association of American Geographers, vol. 83, no. 1: 18–47 Graham, S. (2002) Splintering Urbanism: Networked Infrastructures,Technological Mobilities and the Urban Condition. London: Routledge

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3 GATING IN URBAN JOHANNESBURG Digging inside the social and political systems of a golf estate and an open suburb Federica Duca

Introduction Gating is a widespread practice in many countries. In South Africa it is multifaceted and internally differentiated. Many citizens aspire to live either in townhouse complexes, or in luxury estates – depending on their economic circumstances. One way to understand what ‘difference’ it makes to live in such a space is to look at them in a comparative way. What can be explored would then be the differences between an open suburb and a structurally gated settlement. In South Africa there is a great connection between the gated developments and the suburbs. Chipkin (2012) has noted that in the city of Johannesburg gated developments have different relations to the suburb according to the nature of the development: modest townhouse complexes represent a critique of the old suburb, while luxurious gated estates attempt to reproduce it. It is then possible, and fruitful, to compare and contrast gated settlements to other forms of suburbia. The relational perspective opens a spectrum of reference and discussion around suburbs and gated developments, accounting for the link – be it imagined or tangible – between different forms of suburbia and different areas of the city. These two different spaces should not be seen as separate entities; rather, it is important to read them in a relational and interactive way, such that exploration of the social and political systems that emerge is allowed. The purpose of this chapter is to locate gated settlements in South Africa, and specifically in the city of Johannesburg – a city famously known for being a divided, segregated and arduous space of which the walls and electric fences are the most tangible manifestation. To fully appreciate gated settlements we ought to look at how they interact with and relate to the rest of the city. This is possible if we adopt a spatial and relational perspective (Bourdieu and Wacquant 1992; Emirbayer 1997; Hart 2006 and if we study by way of following a comparative method within the city (McFarlane 2012).

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In addition, this allows – on the one hand – the demystifying of the world of gated communities; while on the other hand it enables a singling out of their characteristics vis à vis broader society in political and spatial terms, as well as the gaining of an understanding of what kind of systems they create. The reference to the general concept of gated communities is nowadays quite vacuous since it refers to a wide and different set of organized communities; this is why, instead of referring to gated communities, it is more fruitful to speak about ‘gating’ as an analytical concept. Thinking about the phenomenon of gated developments as entirely embedded in the broader societal system is a way of doing this. In other words, it is a call to look at gated developments as constitutive of systems of governance that go beyond that of the gated community itself  – as incubators of social and political processes of creation of communities (see Duca 2013 for an analysis of the ideal of community in a Johannesburg golf estate). It is crucial to look at these developments as entirely connected to other parts of the city, the nation and the globe – both in administrative and symbolic terms. Approached in this vein, gated settlements are not merely a ‘bubble’ (even though I maintain that they are the distinct site of a particular form of disengagement, and therefore potentially dangerous to society) or a geographical entity detached from the rest of the society; i.e. they should not only be seen as ‘pockets of wealth’. What do these ‘bubbles’ represent, and how are they connected to the rest of society? The aim of this work is to ‘unpack’ the political and social systems of a gated development (namely a golf estate) and an open suburb, fulfilling the attempt of connecting it to the broader functioning and organization of the city. This will be done by attending to the symbolic and material strata of the residents’ lives. In line with the relational perspective, this is crucial to provide an understanding of these areas not just as abstract entities that are distant and inherently different, but also as continuously changing environments that are never fully completed. By looking at gated developments as a ‘different species’ we risk falling into the trap of isolating them and not fully understanding their position and meaning. The reflections that I present in this chapter are based on ethnographic fieldwork, stretching over two years (2011–12). During the course of this period I became resident in two areas of Johannesburg (which shall remain anonymous) – a golf estate and an open suburb. I have mainly relied on observation, and only at the end did I conduct interviews to consolidate some of the data that had previously emerged. Becoming a resident has allowed me to gain a deep and close understanding of the everyday. I attended meetings both in the golf estate and in the open suburb, and participated in social activities. Ethnographic work in gated settlements is lacking except for a few exceptions (Low 2003; Durington 2006) due largely to the difficulty of entering a gated space. In fact, I went through a very long process before being able to ‘do research’ in the estate. The Home Owners Association (hereafter HOA) in the estate approved my research during one of its board meetings, but it was only upon approval that I was able to look for a room on the estate and start observing and interviewing residents.Thanks to this meticulous entry process, however, I have been admitted to board meetings and I have been granted access to the

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archives of the HOA. By contrast, entry to the open suburb has been less strongly regulated. I did not ask permission to do research there, and navigation of the space was negotiated daily. My research shows that in order to gain knowledge about this type of living, thick observation is needed – especially in the sort of luxurious and elitist environments where this type of investigation is lacking. In South Africa, the debate over gated developments is highly controversial, especially when linked to questions of segregation, transformation, and homogeneous and racially connoted space. Gated settlements are described as artefacts of the ‘new dispensation’; as milieus in which the reproduction of old assessments takes place. They are, it will be argued, spaces of ‘static transformation’ since they incorporate and produce the wish to live in a new and modern environment (such as, for example, being accessible to anyone who can afford it); while at the same time maintaining and fostering the characteristics of exclusion. The new dispensation carries with it, however, the seeds of the old regime; and the current debate rages as to what extent these gated settlements represent continuity or discontinuity with the past. The argument will unfold as follows: comparative research shows that exclusive ‘luxurious’ gated developments are the site of ‘static transformation’. The phenomenon is associated with the ‘new’ South Africa, and it symbolizes the new face of the country since the luxurious gated spaces we are talking about are (theoretically at least) open to anyone and are presented as ordered, civilized and regulated spaces. The golf estate is a site of spatial and social harmony – it is a soothing and sobering space guaranteed by the management of the HOA, the governing body of the estate that takes care of its administration and its well-being both internally and vis à vis the outside world. The open suburb is a self-regulated space where order and harmony are challenged daily by the need for continuous interfacing with institutions that are mostly mediated by the actions of ward councillors and the residents’ association. To these two spaces a different form of organization and scale of governance are matched: on the one side an individual-private (in the open suburb, where there is no structured collective organization); and on the other side the collective-private (mainly through the action of the HOA).Yet both (whether individual or collective in nature) rely on a system of walls for ensuring the well-being of the neighbourhood. The remainder of this chapter is organized as follows. In the next section I will address the question of the suburbs, introducing the idea that in South Africa luxurious gated settlements could be studied in relation to the old open suburbs.This will pave the way for two important aspects: the first being the relevance of gated settlements in the country, and the heterogeneity of the phenomenon; the second being the idea of continuum and a break with the past (static transformation). Focusing on luxurious estates and suburbs, the following paragraph will outline some of the central features of the study (Nader 1972), while maintaining the importance of notions of transformation in the city and in the nation. When considering groups (in this instance, predominantly white) it is important to be mindful of what Brubaker cautions against: groupism, or ‘the

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tendency to take discrete, sharply differentiated, internally homogeneous and externally bounded groups as basic constituents of social life, chief protagonists of social conflicts, and fundamental units of social analysis’. He qualifies his analysis thus:  ‘[I]n the domain of ethnicity, nationalism and race, I  mean by “groupism” the tendency to treat ethnic groups, nations and races as substantial entities to which interest and agency can be attributed” (2004: 164). This is another invitation to a relational approach: the groups that I have studied were mostly upper class and white, but the space in which they lived (old open suburbs or gated settlements) and the different institutions they referred to, have shaped their identities differently. The concept of a homogeneous ‘whiteness’ has been challenged; and merely sharing the same characteristics is not enough to be considered as part of a discrete group. Attention to institution and belonging will help in framing the connection between identity, institutions and space (in this case, suburbs). The chapter will conclude with a set of reflections taken from the census of 2011; and the questions of governance, belonging and values will come together to clarify how the two systems (old suburbs and gated communities) are the result of the actions of the respective institutions and their force in shaping identities in specific spaces.

Urban gating: golf estates and suburbs The proliferation of gated settlements changes the topography of the urban, suburban and rural landscapes. South Africa is no exception to this trend. The assemblage created by gated settlements is a diverse, dynamic and contested one: the ‘gating’ industry is prominent, and it has expanded and diversified rapidly in the last decade, contributing towards creating a varied landscape in terms of urban scenarios, levels of governance and organization. This scenario is differentiated in terms of size, organization, class and race. In South Africa, the Industry Data section of the Association for Residential Communities (ARC) show a series a startling data that speak to the relevance of this kind of settlement in a country where five million people reside in organized communities. In South Africa this success is linked to the quest for security: crime and the associated safety and security question is usually the main declared reason why residents choose one form of habitation over another. Speaking directly to the practice of gating, observation and interviews reveal that different practices of gating are mostly motivated by the crime question. When asked to describe their homes and their neighbourhoods in general terms, the primary element that is addressed by residents is their positions vis à vis crime. Different narrations and perceptions of security emerge, and the general tone of the discussion is about whose security is best. It is, indeed, an expected and predictable scheme: residents living in the golf estate state that they moved in for security reasons, and that the estate is the most secure space in the city; on the other hand, residents of the suburbs prefer to deal

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with their own security (at times relying on private security companies and making use of electric fences and cameras), and reject the idea of the estates as being somehow more secure. It is now worth pointing out the difference between complexes and estates. Usually, residents of the suburbs conflate modest townhouse complexes with luxurious estates. Only when they are asked to qualify their ideas do they highlight the difference; and in some cases they concur that estates are safer spaces. It is worth discussing the security question. On 14 February 2013 one of the most exclusive estates in Pretoria burst into the news after becoming the scene of a fatal shooting. Famous athlete Oscar Pistorius shot and killed his girlfriend in his own residence. At first he declared that he mistakenly thought she was a burglar and that he shot her in an act of self-defence (Mail and Guardian, 14 February 2013; a special report of the case can be retrieved at:  www.mg.co.za/report/ oscar-pistorius-shooting). But let us consider the environment. Pistorius lives in one the most secure gated estates in Gauteng, admission to which is restricted to residents; visitors are only admitted upon invitation, and even then only upon presentation of suitable proof of identification. It is very unlikely that a burglar could have made it through the security detail. The experience is symptomatic of a different paranoia – one in which crime is used at all times to describe and justify any action or violence. Without entering into specific details about the event, a few preliminary considerations may be made. The relationship between gated estates (highly secure) and the perception, experience and facts about crime, is not a straightforward one. Despite sophisticated mechanisms of surveillance and control, the question of crime and the linked inclination towards self-defence is immediately mobilized. This first consideration leads to a question: what would have happened had Pistorius lived in an open suburb, where such a tight, systematic and enclosed mechanism of security was not in place? The same rhetoric emerges in cases of domestic violence that takes place in houses lying outside secured estates (in fact, similar cases have been reported in the open suburbs of Johannesburg, where domestic violence has been justified by the perceived threat to one’s own personal safety). There is, however, one major difference: in the open suburb there is no record of who comes in and out of the house, or when and how the perpetrator has approached the residence and entered it. This constitutes a preliminary element over which the argument will be built. On the contrary, the system of the HOA monitors and regulates – yet it does not have control over people’s actions in their own private spaces. The monitored space of the estate creates a collective way of dealing with the ‘gated’ space, but at the same time concedes a degree of freedom to residents who, under certain circumstances, can act as if they were in a self-regulated environment (such as is the case in an open suburb) – where the absence of an institutional and continuous entry check can almost be said to legitimate a greater degree of self-protection.

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Gates in the suburbs and in the estates A walled and gated landscape is an insular one, apparently detatched and isolated; it seems to be a world of its own. Gates and walls have meanings which can signal or produce difference. Establishing a dialogue between different kinds of gates and walls is certainly a way to reduce their stateliness and also to dig into their meanings. The relational perspective seeks to debunk a substantialist approach (Emirbyer 1997), and at a socio-spatial level it helps not to overestimate the relevance of one type of gate over another. A relational approach also invites us to look at what the gate encloses, rather than what it excludes. Pistorius’s story leads the discussion to questions of power, belonging and gating – the last one being one of the most recurrent characteristics of contemporary societies. Razac (2000) proposes that the fence (which I transfer into ‘gate’) is both a sign and an action. The gate, with all of its wires, is an instrument of delimitation of space; it denotes private property and makes visible social differentiations. There are two characteristics of the gate and of the division of space produced by it: static (i.e. signalling the division, but not producing it), and dynamic (by producing difference it prevents, for instance, people going out or in – thus it functions as an action). Razac maintains that the gate is at the same time a sign and an action, and that we need to see what it produces in its different combinations, functions and dimensions. In the case of gated settlements, the gate produces the community (after defining the private space) and it defines its organization. In the case of the non-gated suburbs, the gates are still very relevant since they define the private boundaries – but they do not define a collective private space. Brown (2010) proposes that the neo-liberal world manifests itself in walls. Globalization ‘features tensions between national interests and the global market, hence between the nation and the state, and between the security of the subject and the movements of capital’ (p. 8). Walls and fences, i.e. gating, are a constant feature. The world of gated communities represents a pattern of walls within walls. There is a certain way in which these shape collective and national identity; but they are also the sites of production of ideas of belonging. Sassen (2013) suggests that gates, new settlements and cities are, from the outset, highly deurbanizing forces, since they promote a gap between the rich and the poor and they deprive citizens from engagement with the city. These forces are persistent in the contemporary landscape where ‘power, whether in the form of elites, government policies, or innovations in the built environments, can override the speech of the city’ (p. 219). Looking at the city in these terms, the suburb could be read and analysed as one of the most relevant deurbanizing sites of the city. However, it is important to define exactly what kind of suburb we are looking at. The suburb can be an old, canonical one; or a new one that is built following the idea of reproducing the previous one, but perceived as totally different by its residents. One example of this kind of suburb is that of the gated community, which, when associated with other suburbs, creates new centres of gravity. Kolb (2008) reports that contemporary suburbs are diverse,

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dynamic and changing spaces. Merging old and new suburbs in one space helps contribute to the idea of dynamism and difference. Johannesburg is a suburban city. Referring to Johannesburg, Guillame (2001) argues that the urban fabric of the city has been suppressed and put aside as part of a long process of suburbanization and repression – both in the townships and in the other suburbs of the city. Clive Chipkin (2012) describes the development of the first suburbs of the city of Johannesburg as stemming from the notion of the Garden City (Howard 1902). In Johannesburg there is a strong socio-historical link between the early suburbs of the twentieth century, the newer ones, and the more recent reproduction: the townhouse complexes and the large estates. The connection between gated estates and the idea of the Garden City is not a quintessentially South African feature: there are common aspects – such as the idea of a utopian society and way of living (affected at the time of Howard by More’s Utopia), and statuary membership to the association of the Garden City and to the HOA for those living in estates (or voluntary membership to Residential Associations for residents of open suburbs) are just a few that globally identifiable. The development of the city suburbs and the creation of Johannesburg as a suburban city have been determined by the development of an automotive culture that has run alongside the northward sprawl of the city. Currently, attempts to regenerate the city are highly popular. These speak to major questions of segregation, transformation, and right to the city. Inner city areas are being regenerated (gentrified) through processes of suburbanization, creation of areas characterized by visible (or invisible) gates, and exclusivity.Two such examples are 44 Stanley and Arts on Main, and Bahmann and Frekel (2012) provide an introduction to them. South African patterns of segregation have been well established and systematized during an apartheid period in which there was little confusion as to where people were supposed to be positioned – i.e. spatially, according to racial lines. In the aftermath of 1994 these patterns have been shuffled, resulting in unexpected spaces where race is not the determinant factor of access. Roitman et al. (2010) produce a framework of analysis based on the assessment of social, institutional and spatial fragmentation caused by gated communities, concluding that it is pre-existing and underlying social fragmentation processes that lead to gated enclaves, and institutional fragmentation (the emergence of condominium and other co-ownership laws and related legislation and policy) follows to reduce the social and private costs of contractual urban governance. (2010: 20) What is interesting for the discussion that follows is the longer history and legacy of gated communities, and how they differ from suburbs. Gated communities are said sometimes to reproduce the apartheid city with all its patterns of segregation – though Landman and Badenhorst (2012) suggest that gated estates do not cause increased spatial fragmentation since they are mainly located at the outskirts of cities. In the eyes of many of their residents these are sites of transformation, places

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where a new environment is created, places where the perception is of living in a new space (Duca 2013). There have been a multitude of views of concerning gated communities. Lemanski et al. (2008) caution us against thinking of them as being similar across the country. Indeed differences between them are also be found within the city of Johannesburg. Chipkin (2012), looking at townhouse complexes in the city of Johannesburg, reports that a process of ‘middle classing’ is taking place in modest complexes where there is a high degree of residential racial mixing, and one that is not necessarily coupled with a social mixing. These complexes are sites for the development of a new regime of ownership:  a communal capitalism. Luxurious estates – and especially golf estates – form part of what Cock (2008) has referred to as the embedding mechanisms of social polarization and environmental destruction, in stark contrast to the idea that golf estates can be seen as spaces of transformation.These spaces are more racially homogeneous (i.e. mostly white) than the ones Chipkin (2012) discusses, and, despite their newness, they mimic (and are very similar to) the old white suburbs of the city. The interconnections, imaginary and contrasts between these two forms of suburb will be explored. These enclaves, and particularly the more luxurious and exclusive ones, are in a way part of the suburbanization process. They are still spaces of utopia, albeit one entrenched within a new capitalist spirit that has changed the idea of the Garden City since the discovery of gold at the beginning of the twentieth century. These suburbs were once linked to the desire for living in a healthy, sanitized, sterile, functional, efficient and highly resourced space. Some of these old suburbs still operate as they were planned, though with improved infrastructures and a more securitized lifestyle. However, the new interpretation of this form of residential enclave – the heir of the garden suburb – can be said to be the gated estate. But let is turn back to gating. Nezar and Roy (2006) use the trope of medieval modernity to describe the political and social thickness of gating, giving it an historical perspective. They suggest that contemporary gated enclaves are a continuation of medieval assessments; that the walls of exclusion (albeit alongside more contemporary institutions such as that of the Homeowners Association) are easily related to the walls of medieval times. This concept is crucial in linking the past to the present; in making sense of gated enclaves vis à vis the phenomena of transformation. Suburbs and gated enclaves occupy a different space in the city of Johannesburg. It is a different mental space, even if at times it is in close proximity. But they both are spaces for the elite, and both rely on the practice of gating to assess belonging and identity.

Urban gating: new debates on elites and transformation in the city Bonner et  al. (2007:  147)  state that ‘due attention needs to be paid to variation within countries; … it means taking cities seriously as cosmopolitan sites, as nodes in transnational networks, and as sites of state power and class formation’.

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Ethnographic work on elites is certainly needed, since these are who set the standard of living to which people aspire. Michel and Monique Pinçon (2005) talk of elite groups as being militant about the maintenance of their own wealth and privilege. Nader points out (1972:  289)  that ‘if, in reinventing anthropology, we were principally studying the most powerful strata of urban society, our view of the ghetto might be largely in terms of those relationships [that are] larger than the ghetto’. This is why, I argue, it is important to study golf courses and suburbs in a relational way. ‘Studying up’ helps to break down the elites, and enable an understanding of what kind of common interests they are trying to preserve by perpetuating their own privileges; and finally helps us in understanding their role in transformation. Residents of wealthy suburbs and gated settlements have different ideas about who is vested in transformation, and who is a real citizen of the country. In a country such as South Africa – where ‘transformation’ and ‘new country’ are concepts hyper-charged with meaning – a different way of understanding the meaning ascribed to them is to look at the question of belonging. Marais (2011: 7) emphasizes that in the aftermath of apartheid, South Africa is a ‘wealthy country by continental standards … it has more luxury-car dealers than any other country outside the industrialized north”; this serves to obstruct the democratic process (Natrass and Seekins 2001; Terreblanche 2012). With this in mind, and thinking of the space that these elites inhabit and of the different spatial and organizational set-ups, transformation is both a top-down process as well as a bottom-up one. It is top-down in the sense that institutions and markets shape it, but it is also bottom-up because citizens might contest it or give it a different meaning. Looking at the management of gated estates from an institutional perspective, and following McKenzie (2011), we see that private governance is converging with local government. A communitarian approach would argue that institutions such as gated estates promote communal values (Putman 2000); while a critical urban theory approach would stress the patterns of segregation and fragmentation that are provoked (society-wide) by this self-same private urban governance (Davis 1990; Graham and Marvin 2001). The study of institutions might be enriched by a process of trying to understand what role they play in shaping people’s identities. In fact, the way in which a certain space is organized is crucial to processes of identity formation, representation and perception of other groups. Sometimes they are deliberately antagonistic; at other times they are merely embedded in a different organization. Looking at elites, transformation and the city, the focus is on a particular group of citizens who inhabit the safe and luxurious spaces – in this case an open suburb and a gated settlement. At stake is how the connection between space and institutions creates two different groups. As it will be shown, there are different ways of belonging – different ways of feeling attached to the suburb, the city and the nation.

Networks of power and social relations: the census brings it all together In the city of Johannesburg I  have undertaken observations of two differently organized suburbs – one old and non-gated, the other a golf estate.The connection

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between the two areas follows a very standard pattern, and at first glance it is informed by a crime configuration. Residents of the golf estate self-declare to have moved there as a result of personal experience of either armed robbery or a serious burglary. Many of the residents of the estate originate from the other suburb in my study, located some 12 km away. A real estate agent from Fine and Country laments the decrease of house prices in the suburbs: “[W]e have lost many clients to Eagle Canyon,” she told me. “Fewer and fewer people want to put up with old houses that need renovation; also, people want to live close to private schools” (interview with Pam, Fine and Country real estate agent, 20 September 2012). The golf estate is relatively new, and is located close to the townhouse complexes. It is a private development for approximately 4,000 residents, governed by the HOA and built on a former quarry. The open suburb was developed by an entrepreneur, on derelict land, and with the intention of creating an upmarket suburb for the new upper middle classes of the early twentieth century. The suburbs have different stories, even though they are only 12 km apart. The old suburb was proclaimed in 1930. It is now an established suburb, known by its residents as ‘the secret Johannesburg’. It is a changing suburb, though one where single families still live in many of the plots (even though some of them are gradually being sub-divided into smaller properties).The golf estate, meanwhile, is a new development, and is not quite yet part of the fabric of the city. Despite their differences in outlook, architecture and planning, both areas are quite well connected. Many of the residents of some of the extensions of the open suburb have moved into the golf estate since it was built. The attractiveness of this new site is not accidental. There seems to be a topographical connection between the imaginary and the life of the two suburbs. Having set the scene, I will now explore questions of belonging and space, utilising information gathered from the census. This will lead me to disclose how organization of the estate is regulated by the HOA, and how the suburb is self-regulated, although the various institutions at play do not necessarily have a direct impact on people’s lives. This examination will help us understand how institutions create difference between groups.

The census In October 2011 census fieldworkers needed to gain access to residents’ houses; for the golf estate this meant a great deal of organization. HOA and security managers began informing residents about the procedures that would need to be followed, and about the legitimacy of the census. A few extracts from emails and text messages sent out to residents helps put all this in context. Dear Residents, Stats SA is a state institution mandated in terms of the Statistics Act No. 6 of 1999 (hereinafter referred to as the “Act”) to collect any information

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from all persons, business, households etc. for statistical purposes … Security has been liaising with the department with regard to access procedures for their fieldworkers to enter the Estate.We await the designated employees’ names and ID numbers as well as the proposed hours of work before access will be authorised. We have also requested information with regard to the background screening of designated fieldworkers. (email received on 11 October 2011, my emphasis) To ensure the safety of our Estate and to assist residents, we have made arrangements for the Census staff to be accommodated at the Club House daily from 10h00–21h00 during this period. Work stations are being set up in the Club House foyer and ten fieldworkers have been screened and vetted. (email received on 19 October 2011, my emphasis) Census staff did not arrive at 10am today, they will be at the Estate at 1pm. Apologies for the inconvenience, we are in their hands and this is out of our control. (text message received on 21 October 2011) Further to our SMS today, the Executive Manager for Stats SA Gauteng visited the Estate yesterday afternoon and was unhappy with the current census arrangements. According to their procedure, fieldworkers are required to walk from home to home. This will commence at 14h00 today and the security Patrol vehicles will monitor. (email received on 27 October 2011) At the time of the census I was completing observations in the estate. The most common reaction to the census among residents were expressions of disinterest, disillusion and disappointment with the state (and its representatives) for not being up to standard with procedures; and for not having compiled a qualitatively challenging and valid questionnaire. Comments from residents were mainly linked to distrust. The idea that census fieldworkers were dangerous was widespread; which is why, often, there was a high level of reluctance to disclose all information requested – for the reason of protection of property. This resulted in inaccurate and superficial answers to some of the questions posed in the questionnaire. Interestingly, such disinterest was put down to the poor quality of the questionnaire, its excessive length, and its apparent inclusion of unnecessary and useless questions. At the time I was not carrying out observations in the open suburb, although I have heard second-hand the same comments being made about the census there. So what is the difference between the two experiences? The interventionist role of the HOA in ensuring a smooth, safe and ordered pathway through the census constitutes the main difference between the experience of the census in the golf estate and in the suburbs. In the latter, information about the procedure to be followed was communicated via public media, and there was no special security measures put in place to ensure the safe completion of

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the data collection process. Furthermore, residents of the estates felt less vulnerable because they were protected by a security apparatus; however, on the flip side, they were unsettled at having to allow (under state law governing the census) unwanted people inside their extended private sphere – i.e the Club House, where fieldworkers were authorized to carry out the questionnaire. As South African citizens and residents of a gated golf estate it is possible to escape some commitments to the city and the state – but residents cannot escape major commitments to the broader community, such as taking part in the census. The suburb, initially intended as an appendix to the city (especially in Johannesburg), is now considered to be part of the city. But belonging to the suburb does not necessarily equate to a feeling of attachment to the city. Residents of the open suburbs claim attachment to the suburb in which they live as well as attachment to the city since they feel that they dirty their hands with it, i.e. they have to deal, on a daily basis, with problems of service delivery (potholes and road maintenance, mainly). According to ward councillor Ingrid Reintman, residents and institutions participate in the democratic process because there is positive and constructive engagement with local authorities to make the lived space and the community better. In this sense they see themselves as the ‘real’ people, the ones that put up with problems vis à vis the city and the state. Residents of the golf estate, on the other hand, are detached from some of the downsides of living in the city, thanks to the mediation of the HOA. They still need to contribute as taxpayers, just as much as the open and unregulated suburbs’ residents. But concerns about service delivery in the golf estate are not linked to requests to the local municipality for (say) road maintenance; rather, it is to the management of the estate for the well-functioning of the SPA or the Clubhouse, a service for which residents pay levies. In this case the estate and its administration function as a structure in which the institutions of the suburb and of the local administration are melded together. This situation creates the perception of a different set of values for each of the two areas; a perception linked to the idea among residents of the open suburbs that they ‘live in the real world’, while those in the gated estates such as Eagle Canyon live in an extravagant bubble. Residents of the open suburb feel that they belong to the city in a social and political way. Residents of the golf estate belong to the city in more of a functional and contingent way: they go to work and they go shopping, but their forays into the city are more about survival and leisure. Residents of the estate have made a conscious choice  – at least, this is what they claim – to remain in South Africa, when in fact they could have left. They say they have decided to stay (even though the latest newsletters of the estate I have been observing report an increase in people emigrating to other countries) because they love the country, the land, the nation. Living in South Africa becomes a way of asserting a way of being South African. It is a form of loyalty to the country, though in a very particular way – one that involves living in a soothing, ordered

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environment. It is no surprise that one of the advertisements of the real estate agency Chaz Everitt reads: ‘Why emigrate overseas, when you can migrate to … [name of the estate]?’ But let us return to different suburbs and different gating. As has been shown through the example of the census, these are differently managed and the institutions within them are crucial actors.The golf estate is managed by the Homeowners Associations, which is the main actor inside the estate as well as the medium through which residents deal with external institutions. Membership is statuary. In the open suburb there is no such strong institution managing a resident’s life. Consequently they refer for support (though only in very few cases) to ward councillors, Community Policing Forums (CPF) or to the Residents Associations.To this, a different kind of gating corresponds. In the first case there is double-gating – one that creates the environment and the community, and which contains the organization and management of the estate (a collective-private); and one that concerns the individual homes (an individual-private). This last form of gating also exists in the open suburb. This study informs the relevance of comparative work as a way of grappling with the main features of gated settlements. The role of the different institutions at play in the differently organized suburbs is extremely relevant in understanding how identities are shaped in the urban space, and in the two suburbs.The different organization also tells a story about how identity is shaped in connection to the idea of belonging, especially when looking at the two suburbs in a relational and comparative way. Linking this to the notion of transformation, it is possible to speak of static transformation in the estates; and associated with this is the idea of who is part of the country and is vested in transformation, and who betrays it. In the golf estate in question, new spatial and social communities are characterized by a strong feeling of belonging to the nation but not to the city; it discloses a strong form of patriotism. Alternatively, in the old suburb residents feel that they live in the real world and that they are an integral part of of the city. The idea of the static transformation of the estate is linked to the promotion and institutionalization of this idea by the HOA. It is static because despite being a new environment (where everyone can buy a house without restriction by race, gender or background – provided they are able to afford it), elements of statis are maintained, not least the strong attachment to an idealized South Africa.

The future of urban gating: tying the threads By exploring the relevance of the fragmentation of the city into its different parts, and then knitting it back together again – thereby enabling an analysis of the interconnections, networks, differences, contrasts and similarities through use of a relational perspective and a comparative method – this work has attempted to embed the reader in deep views of two very different systems of urban spatial governance in exclusive communities, systems that create distinctively different identities.

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Two suburbs in the city of Johannesburg – a new, gated golf estate and an old open suburb – have been discussed. The former is governed by the HOA, while the second is governed by different bodies to which membership is not required. The case of the census has shown that understanding gated communities and enclosed spaces is not only about looking at the physical openness or closedness of spaces. A comparative look has helped us garner an understanding of deeper political and social systems that are embedded in historical trajectories; and at ways in which the city evolves according to its legacies. The different suburbs are all connected, though they perceive themselves as different. Belonging seems to be an important aspect that needs to be addressed when looking at institutions. In fact, in the golf estate the HOA creates a soothing and depoliticized environment – a safe space that lulls residents and reinforces their love for their country. Following Razac, the function of the gate is one of signalling division and producing difference.These mechanisms work in a parallel in the two suburbs, though – as already mentioned – the role of institutions in shaping the meaning of the gate is very important. In the open suburb it works as an individual-defining institution; while in the gated estates it works as a collective-defining one. Institutions such as the HOA, the ward councillors and the Residents Associations play a role in shaping the identities, values and perceptions of each other in a space in which the golf estate represents the attempt to reproduce a more ordered and safe ‘old school’ open suburb. Indeed, the gated community is the formalization of a broader system of gating, and it becomes the container of a set of institutions and practices that fuse political, administrative and social aspects. We speak of static transformation because what happens in the golf estate is the combination of aspects of transformation and aspects of stasis that are highly depoliticized and neutralized by the HOA (the notion of medieval modernity is very relevant). The most important aspect, one that is linked to transformation and the idea of the ‘new’ country, is that of belonging. Seen in a relational way, these two areas are in conflict because they share different values about what being a true and loyal citizen means. And the HOA in the golf estate reinforces this pattern of difference. The recent Pistorius case emphasizes the point. Finally, this chapter is a call to focus on elites: where do they look for representation, and under what conditions do they identify with the rest of the country? Questions of identity, community and belonging are to be taken into consideration when talking about the inner world of gated communities. Relating the study to an analysis of the system, and power relations, gives an idea as to the impact and relevance of these communities both in spatial and political terms. Spatially the concept of segregation is overcome; while politically the focus is on the emergence of communities that are intrinsically connected to the nation, even though they might seem separate.

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McFarlane, C. and Robinson, J. (2012) ‘Introduction experiment in comparative urbanism’ in Urban Geography, vol. 33, no. 6: 765–73 McKenzie, E. (2011) Beyond Privatovia. Rethinking residential private government.Washington: The Urban Institute Press Marais, H. (2011) South African Pushed to the limits:  the political economy of change. Cape Town: UCT Press More, T. (1997 [1516]) Utopia. Dover Publications, New Edition Nader, L. (1972) ‘Up the anthropologist: perspectives gained on studying up’ in Dell, H. H. Reinventing Anthropology. New York: Pantheon Books: 284–311 Nattrass, N. and J. Seekings (2001) ‘Democracy and Distribution in Highly Unequal Economies:  The Case of South Africa’ in Journal of Modern African Studies, vol. 39, no. 3: 470–98 Nezar, A. and Roy, A. (2006) ‘Medieval Modernity: On Citizenship and urbanism in a global era. in Space and Polity, vol. 10, no. 1: 1–20 Pinçon, M. and Pinçon-Cahrlot, M. 2005. Sociologie de la bourgeoisie. La Dècouverte Putman, R. (2000) Bowling alone:  the collapse and the revival of American Community. New York: Simon and Schuster Razac, O. (2000) Histoire politique du barbelé. La prairie, la tranchée, le camp. Paris: La Fabrique Roitman, S., Webster, C. and Landman, K. (2010) ‘Methodological Frameworks and interdisciplinary research on gated communities’ in International Planning Studies, vol. 15, no. 1: 3–23 Sassen, S. (2013) ‘Does the city have speech?’ in Public Culture, vol. 25, no. 2: 209–21 Terreblanche, E. (2012) Lost in transformation: South Africa’s search for a new future since 1986. KMM Review Publishing

Websites http://www.hoasupport.co.za/joomla-2 http://mg.co.za/report/oscar-pistorius-shooting

4 GATED COMMUNITIES IN SOUTH KOREA AND THE DILEMMA OF THE STATE Hee-Seok Kim

Urban gating: the new debates Apartment housing constitutes one of the principal urban orders in Korean cities due to their sheer number and a distinct organisational method called danji, which refers to a complex of buildings. In South Korea, an apartment complex is a private and master-planned residential compound built by a single contractor or consortium of contractors. It includes apartment buildings of five storeys or more with in-complex amenities. All the elements within the apartment complex, such as the apartment buildings, parks and streets, are treated as an indivisible unit that forms a large single parcel in a cadastre.Their borders are clearly demarcated by large roads, rivers or hills and, more definitively, by walls. As all the in-complex amenities are built and run at the expense of the homeowners, apartments are generally more expensive than other types of housing and are home to the country’s middle and upper classes. Although apartment complexes began to become popular in the country in the 1970s, it was during the 2000s that their incremental gating acquired enough momentum to capture the attention of scholars who study Korean apartments. At that time, gated communities were still viewed as a foreign phenomenon that occurred outside of South Korea, and as such they were understood as a potential type of housing for the future (Choi 2007) or as a limited occurrence that was at its inception (Nam 2006). Understanding of the gatedness of Korean apartment complexes reached a turning point in the 2010s with a series of studies that analysed the gated features of ordinary apartment complexes (Jung 2012; Kim and Choi 2012). Debates in the mass media about the subject were ignited very recently by two authors who published books in the same year, and who see the current apartment complex structure as overly privatised and disruptive to the urban structure (C. S. Park 2013; I. S. Park 2013). The proliferation of apartment complexes in Korean cities was orchestrated by the Korean state, which adopted their construction as the main driver of urban

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residential development. This development strategy was successful from an economic point of view. The state was able to achieve its goal of modernising cities at low cost through a private development scheme in which it entrusted the legal obligation to build and maintain the infrastructure necessary to support housing to apartment owners. However, the strategy became the root cause of the gating of apartment complexes by granting the right to the autonomous production of local public goods to apartment owners who subsequently wished to monopolise their collective assets by excluding the public. This chapter aims to examine the interactions between three actors in the gating of apartment complexes: 1. 2. 3.

the apartment owners the public the state.

The chapter argues that the ambiguous stance of the state towards gating is not helpful for the future evolution of apartment complexes. It discusses first the ‘minimalistic’ (Glasze 2005) or ‘neo-liberal’ (Coy 2006) approach of the Korean state towards its residential development policy, and the impact of such a policy on Korean cities in both a global and domestic context. Two case studies concerning the redevelopment of apartment complexes are introduced to analyse the conflicts of interest between three actors over common spaces within them. The analysis from the cases is used to assess the future outlook of gating and the role of the Korean state in alternative scenarios of private versus public cities.Written data for the case studies were collected from news reports, planning documents and the writings of apartment residents which were posted in closed internet forums. Interviews were conducted with redevelopment project leaders and municipal officials.

Urban gating: structures and processes The global perspective Scholars who study urban gating agree that gated communities are a worldwide phenomenon (Glasze 2005; Grant 2005). But the prevalence and intensity of gated communities in each nation appears to be different (Cséfalvay and Webster 2012) depending on the social, cultural, economic and institutional conditions of each country. Although the first important study regarding gated communities by Blakely and Snyder (1997) stressed the role of urban residents actively pursuing the advantages unique to gated compounds – such as particular lifestyles, or prestige – the state plays a central role in shaping the socioeconomic conditions of a country and setting up institutions that facilitate or encourage gated communities. Thus, it becomes the driver of the gating behaviour of its citizens. In this regard the role of the state in gating is twofold: an indirect role in guiding the socioeconomic development of the country, thus creating the conditions for gating; and the direct role of

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establishing housing policy and using institutional measures to influence residential gating. The outcome of these direct and indirect roles can be either favourable or unfavourable to gating, and it is one of the factors that explains the differences in the prevalence of gating in different countries (Cséfalvay and Webster 2012). Weak states tend to unwittingly promote urban gating due to their incapacity to support the optimum functioning of their cities. A city is mainly composed of private actors – households and businesses – but it needs public services for its private actors to function. Public services are provided by the state, and these include policing, public transport, waste removal, parks, education and cultural facilities. These services are unevenly distributed in the urban space because each neighbourhood has different levels of access to public goods. These goods, whose qualities depend on location, are called ‘local public goods’ (Tiebout 1956). When the state cannot provide local public goods because of insufficient public funding, war, or other structural problems, the well-to-do class (primarily, though not exclusively) will try to buy them from the market (Glasze 2005) by joining a ‘club economy’ that shares public services only among paying members (Buchanan 1965; Manzi and Smith-Bowers 2005). The physical manifestation of the club economy is the gated community, whose exclusionary mechanisms prevent outsiders from using privately provided public services. Gating that results from a fear of crime – one of the most frequent themes in urban gating literature – is, in fact, an example of the private production of a particular local public good (security) and is caused by residents’ distrust of the police service provided by the state. For example, in Rio de Janeiro in 2001, favela activists who were fed up with the drug dealers and police brutality meted out in the favelas, created the so-called ‘favela-condominium’ by installing gates in the city’s second largest slum town (Costa Vargas 2006). However, residential clubbing does not necessarily occur in countries with weak states. Although the Singaporean state has provided decent public housing for the majority of its people, middle-class Singaporeans started to seek better residential amenities. In response to this demand, the state made gated condominiums an integral part of its housing policy to satisfy ‘the rising aspirations of middle class home buyers’ and to maintain the government’s control of these aspirations (Pow 2009). As evidenced in the Singaporean case, the state does not remain a mere onlooker with respect to gating. It intervenes in the residential development process to either encourage or discourage gating, or sometimes both. Considering the planning obligation of the state to use space for the broader public interest (Cuthbert and McKinnell 1997), and the physical and social fragmentation that is caused by gated communities (Coy 2006), a discouragement of gating is the expected reaction by the state. Accordingly, some Canadian municipalities have introduced anti-gating measures such as the prohibition of private roads and locked gates, or the refusal of building permits for gated communities (Grant 2005). Similar anti-gating measures have been instituted for residential developments in London, although application of the various measures available is dependent on the circumstances under the discretionary planning system of the UK (Gooblar 2002). Conversely, some states are tempted to encourage gating in order to enjoy the financial benefits that

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are generated by communities which pay taxes, but which are self-sufficient in the provision of public services and therefore do not burden the state (Grant and Mittelsteadt, 2004). The City of Las Vegas is an extreme case of institutional gating, and one that has occurred against the will of its residents in the form of the installation of walls around traditional neighbourhoods; as well as encouraging gated developments in an effort to widen the tax base while simultaneously reducing expenditure (McKenzie 2005). The motivations of pro-gating states are sometimes political, as can be seen in the case of China, which uses privatised security within well-defined walls as an effective tool for maintaining social order over a heterogeneous population (Tomba 2010: 31). Contradictory stances towards gating emerge in the attitudes of different states. This dualism stems from the fact that gated communities generate both gains and costs for the state. First, the state gains financial benefits from gated projects due to their autonomous provision of public services without the need for public funding. However, gating is accompanied by hidden costs to society, such as the disruption of traffic flows and the intensification of social segregation. The dual impacts of gating drive the state to consider whether to choose benefit seeking over cost aversion.The Korean state is no exception in this dilemma; it has chosen the benefit-seeking path by taking a direct role in the institutionalisation and promotion of self-sufficient apartment complexes on a large scale, particularly during the time when South Korea was a developing country desperately in need of decent housing. However, the proliferation of gating in Korean cities, and its increasing repercussions on urban spaces and social relations within the developed economy, has led the state to adopt more cost-aversion policies  – including planning interventions that are aimed at reducing gating while at the same time preserving the current system of private development and maintenance of apartment complexes.

The Korean perspective South Korea suffered a severe housing shortage from the mid 1960s until the early 1990s, when the government’s Two Million Home Construction Drive created a housing glut. The main culprit of the housing shortage was rural migration to the cities as well as the rapid industrialisation of the country under a developmental Korean state which pursued state-led industrialisation in alliance with large conglomerates (Lee and Han 2006). When a large number of homes had to be supplied quickly to meet burgeoning housing demand in the cities, apartments were chosen by the state as the main form of housing on account of the ease with which they could be mass produced (Gelézeau 2008) to modern housing standards. Unlike contemporary Western governments, which provided public rental apartments, the much poorer Korean government stopped providing these (Gelézeau 2008; Jun 2009: 38) and instead chose to allow private contractors and public developers (Korea National Housing Corporation) to construct privately owned apartments. The existing literature blames the low funding priority given by the state to

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housing development on the characteristics of a Korean state which concentrated its resources in pursuit of a growth policy centred on industrial development rather than following a distributive policy based on housing development (Park 1998; Doling 1999). Public money saved on housing was maximised by the state’s requirement that apartment buyers pay for the construction and maintenance of their own residential infrastructure on top of paying for the construction of the apartment buildings themselves. The expansion of apartment stock came from either ‘new town’ greenfield development, or from brownfield redevelopment. The latter consists of the redevelopment of traditional neighbourhoods and old low-rise apartment complexes. The state minimised its financial engagement in both greenfield and brownfield developments, but the latter received even smaller amounts of assistance and contributions from the state. While new towns have been built as part of state initiatives, and while there have been city-wide masterplans that have been elaborated by the state, sporadic residential redevelopment has occurred as the result of private initiatives planned by private contractors. This chapter focuses on the redevelopment process, one in which the financial detachment of the state and laissez-faire home building schemes are more pronounced. The current redevelopment scheme came into being in 1983. Prior attempts at public redevelopment had failed due to the lukewarm attitude of the government towards making a financial commitment. But unlike these prior redevelopment schemes in which the public took the lead, the homeowners of the sites now to be redeveloped became autonomous project operators by forming Homeowners’ Unions for Redevelopment under the provisions of the Joint Redevelopment Scheme of 1983. At this point, redevelopment had to proceed with the homeowners providing their own resources and assuming all the construction risk; the state, meanwhile, only had an obligation to provide the necessary legal framework and approvals for the project. Private contractors became intermediaries between homeowners and the state, coordinating the differing demands of the two while extracting their own profit from the project. The scheme was successful because all three actors  – the homeowners, the state and the contractors – greatly benefited from redevelopment amid what was then a real estate boom. Currently, the system has become less viable, and the auto-financing of redevelopment has become impossible in many areas. This is because house prices have been stagnant since the late 2000s, having been affected by the global financial crisis and a low birth rate. Under the scheme, homeowners can obtain new and bigger homes with better infrastructure at below-market prices by selling additional homes constructed through vertical redevelopment to outside buyers. Their gain is not limited to obtaining new homes. The price of the new homes increases significantly soon after redevelopment due to improved living conditions and speculative forces. Contractors also benefit from the scheme because residential redevelopment guarantees a risk-free business in which their construction costs are always repaid by the sale of additional homes that are sold at high prices. The apartment complex system has played a vital role in the operation of this particular

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redevelopment scheme (Ha and Kim, 2003: 56). The construction of high-rise apartment complexes has made it possible to build extra housing units to sell to external buyers, to provide open space, and all without the need to reduce the number of apartments available (I. S.  Park 2013:  87). Since the infrastructure created – including electricity, water, parks and roads – was internalised within the apartment complexes and sold to homeowners as a package that included the apartment unit itself, the scheme could be totally self-sufficient without recourse to any form of public funding. The total self-sufficiency of the scheme enabled financial gains from the project to be allocated also to the state, since it was able to oversee a modernisation of the housing stock and its associated infrastructure with little investment from its own coffers (Ha and Kim 2003:  55; C.  S. Park 2013: 145). The internal structure and governance of the apartment complexes is defined by state regulations. Everything within an apartment complex parcel, including the apartment units, amenities, parking lots and streets, minus the in-complex shopping centres, are the collective private property of the apartment owners. The maintenance and management of these private properties is the responsibility of the apartment residents. Local public goods that are run at the expense of the apartment residents consist of parking, security, street maintenance – including lighting  – and the cleaning and maintenance of amenities such as parks, senior centres and playgrounds. All of these services, except parking, are provided by the district offices and the national police using tax money for residents who live in traditional neighbourhoods that are of lesser quality. Apartment complex dwellers are thus burdened with double payment for the provision of local public goods, since their state tax burden is not reduced as a result of their privately providing certain local public goods. As the costs of service provision are equally divided among the households, and since larger apartment complexes have more diverse local public goods, home owners are driven to larger apartment complexes to obtain economies of scale (C. S. Park 2013: 138). Apartment complexes comprising thousands of households are a familiar urban scene in South Korea. Regarding the governance of these complexes, the Housing Act prescribes that a resident council should be elected by the residents of any apartment complex having 300 households or more, so that the shared properties of the apartment complex can be managed by the residents themselves. In view of the ownership and governance structure, the apartment complex system designed by the Korean state is effectively a private neighbourhood in which local public services are privately produced and consumed by paying members who self-administer their common space.

New geographies of urban gating The residential development strategy of the Korean state centred on the mass production of collective housing, which has resulted in the prevalence of apartment

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complexes in today’s Korean cities. For example, the 3,794 apartment complexes in Seoul (100 km2) occupy 28 per cent of the urbanised area (363 km2) and 45 per cent of the residential zone of the city (223 km2) as of 2012.1 The total length of the walls of these apartment complexes is 637.69 km (8 per cent of the total length of roads in Seoul in 2005). The significant presence of apartment complexes in the urban milieu of Korea has yielded a lasting impact on the organisation of its cities and its society (Gelézeau 2008) in both positive and negative ways. One of the negative consequences is the fragmentation of urban space. Since apartment complexes are designed according to the principles of a self-contained neighbourhood (based on Clarence Perry’s Neighbourhood Unit), their internal organisation promotes the autonomous functioning of the complex rather than harmonised cooperation within the wider neighbourhood (C. S. Park 2013: 141–5). This rupture is most evident in the uncoordinated road networks between the apartment complexes and their environs. Most of the older low-rise neighbourhoods in Korean cities have grid pattern streets that were formed by land readjustment schemes between the 1930s and the early 1980s. The inward-oriented road networks of the apartment complexes (I. S. Park 2013: 103) only allow for a limited number of entrances. They ignore the easily navigable street patterns to be found in the surrounding areas, and effectively disrupt both vehicular and human movement in the wider neighbourhood (see Figure 4.2). Recently, this horizontal rupture has spread into a vertical one. As new apartment complexes increasingly opt for a carless environment by placing parking lots and roads exclusively underground, and creating an upper deck for pedestrians that has no incline, the altitude of apartment complex grounds and that of the surrounding areas are increasingly divergent. This phenomenon creates a high altitude natural wall, since the deck of an apartment complex is often designed to be higher than that of the surrounding area.The gap in height serves not only as a wall, it also acts as a visual screen and hinders pedestrian access, and runs contrary to the principles of universal design. Recently, this rupture in design has been exacerbated by an active and voluntary rupture that is being imposed by the apartment residents themselves.While vehicular access to apartment complexes by outsiders has been increasingly blocked since the 1990s in order to guarantee parking spaces for residents and prevent unwanted traffic (Kim and Choi 2012), pedestrian access by outsiders has been allowed (Gelézeau 2008). But this long-standing unwritten rule, which has existed since the construction of the first generation of Korean apartment complexes in the 1960s, has shown signs of crumbling since the late 2000s. If the prohibition of outside vehicles was indicative of the first wave of gating, residents of some of the newer apartment complexes built since the late 2000s have started a second wave of gating by prohibiting outsiders from using their indoor amenities – such as saunas and cafés – by putting up ‘no trespassing’ signs and even installing electronic gates (see Figure 4.1). These exclusionary devices against pedestrians, which were not included in the original plans of the apartment complexes, have been subsequently added by apartment residents. The appearance of such devices has coincided with the significant improvements to public spaces within the apartment complexes which have occurred since

Rising arm barrier at Sinjeong Seyang Cheongmaru Apartment Complex (September 2014). Source: author.

FIGURE  4.1A

FIGURE  4.1B ‘No trespassing’ sign on a pedestrian path at Banpo Xii Apartment Complex (May 2011). Source: author.

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TABLE 4.1 Gating features and their initiators for different types of Korean apartment

complexes

Features of gated communities

Initiator

Apt. complex Apt. complex Some apt. built before built since complexes since 1990s 1990s 2000s

Economic

State

Yes

Yes

Yes

State

Yes

Yes

Yes

Homeowners

No

Yes

Yes

Homeowners

No

No

Yes

Political

Physical

Private production and consumption of local public goods Private governance over in-complex affairs Rising arm barrier protects against unauthorised vehicles ‘No trespassing’ signs or electronic gates

the late 1990s.This period was an important turning point in the design of the open spaces and amenities of apartment complexes, which had previously been considered unimportant relative to that of apartment units themselves. The large numbers of unsold apartments caused by the housing glut of the mid-1990s and the Asian financial crisis of 1997 propelled building contractors to differentiate their buildings from those of their rivals. Coincidentally, the institutional barriers that had previously hindered product differentiation also disappeared in the late 1990s with the abolition in 1999 of price caps on new apartments. As a result, contractors began to compete by enhancing not only their apartment units, but also the amenities and open spaces within the complexes (Choi 2005). Green spaces were upgraded to parks; and in an effort to attract homebuyers, parking spaces and amenities that exceeded the legal requirements of the Housing Act were built. Apartment complexes solidified their position as residences for the middle classes through the private funding of infrastructure upgrades by homebuyers; while at the same time the low-rise neighbourhoods where infrastructure is maintained by the state have seen a deterioration in their liveability and reputations as a result of increases in density without corresponding infrastructure upgrades (C. S. Park 2013: 119–23). The physical rupture that has been caused by inward-looking apartment complex design and the gating behaviours of some apartment residents has not gone unnoticed by the state. Although it was central government that established the

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apartment complex system, it has been primarily the municipal governments that have tried to mitigate the negative impacts of the system. The municipalities, as the authorities that approve and control apartment complexes, are increasingly seeking ‘publicness’ in their design criteria; although reforming the fundamental root of the ‘privateness’ of apartment complexes, which originates from the private ownership of public spaces, is beyond their capacity. The Movement for the Demolition of Walls, which aims to replace walls with green space in government complexes, schools, detached houses and apartment complexes, was started by Korea’s fourth largest city, Daegu, in 1996, and soon spread to other cities. In 2012 the campaign was upgraded to the No Walls Movement, which intervenes in the design stage to create wall-less apartment complexes. The pursuance of publicness has also resulted in changes to planning regulations to protect the right to walk. The central government introduced the Public Pedestrian Path in its Guide for District Plan2 in 2000. Being designated as a Public Pedestrian Path makes pedestrian access to a newly developed lot whose size is considered to be excessively large, possible (Ministry of Land, Infrastructure and Transport 2000). The Seoul Metropolitan Government (SMG) established its own Guide for District Plan concerning apartment complex redevelopment in 2004. The Guide discourages developers from abolishing existing roads and merging lots to create apartment complexes that are too large (SMG 2004), a common practice in the establishment of self-sufficient apartment complexes. The intervention of the SMG in the design of apartment complexes took a leap in 2012 with the introduction of ‘public architects’.The public architect system was created to enable the SMG to be involved at the architectural design stage of residential redevelopment projects. Public architects, as representatives of the public, influence apartment complex projects to reflect the interests of the whole city rather than merely to maximise the profits to be gained under the Joint Redevelopment Scheme. It is a trial scheme that is aimed at moving the planning of apartment complexes out of private and into public hands. The redevelopment plan of the Garak Siyeong Apartment Complex in Seoul is the first outcome of the seemingly incompatible combination of the public architect and the Joint Redevelopment Scheme. Announcing its redevelopment plan, the SMG also declared that it would henceforth prohibit the construction of walls in any apartment complex with more than 2,000 households.

Networks of power and social relations Case 1: The pioneering redevelopment of Garak Siyeong Apartment Complex in Seoul The Garak Siyeong Apartment Complex, which accommodates 6,600 households, is exceptionally large even by Korean standards. The five-storey-high apartment complex was completed in 1982 by the SMG to house both former slum dwellers and regular homebuyers. It is located in the affluent and densely populated

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N

0

50

150

FIGURE  4.2

300m

Map of Garak Siyeong Apartment Complex as of 1998 (modified by

author).

Songpa Gu (a metropolitan borough) of Seoul. The 35-hectare apartment complex, built in the shape of a rectangle, is surrounded by sports grounds to the east and a large wholesale market for agricultural products to the south. It faces traditional neighbourhoods composed of numerous small-scale residential buildings to the north and the west. The apartment complex has three major entrances from which the in-complex arterial roads originate. The local roads that serve the 134 apartment buildings are mostly cul-de-sacs that are connected to the three arterial roads, a typically defensive design against outside traffic.The adoption of superblock and cul-de-sac roads that discourage an unwanted influx of traffic reveals a distinct design philosophy that results in ‘residential territorialisation’ (Charmes 2010) (see Figure 4.2). The decision to redevelop the apartment complex was made in 1999, less than two decades after its completion. It took more than another decade to finalise the redevelopment plan due to the large number of homeowners involved in the project. The redevelopment plan that was approved by the SMG in May 2013 envisages the construction of nearly 10,000 housing units after the current complex is demolished. The plan is significant as it is the first product of the SMG’s public architect system with the explicit intention of integrating the apartment complex with the surrounding areas. Although municipalities have increasingly intervened in the design of apartment complexes for the benefit of the wider public, their role

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has been limited to that of an approver who can demand modifications to the plan. This is the first trial in which the public has been able to actively intervene as one of the designers of an apartment complex. The result is a plan that has adopted ‘living together, openness and sharing’ as its main theme (SMG 2013). However, the plan is not free from imposed conditions. Some of the apartment buildings soar as high as 35 storeys in order to guarantee the financial autonomy of the project, and the whole apartment complex is car-free as a result of the parking spaces and vehicular roads being submerged underground in keeping with the dominant trend in current design. This car-free design will not enable any outside through traffic, and will create a gap in height as high as 5 m at the northern boundary of the site. The public architect, an architecture professor, did his best to enhance the publicness of the project within the given limits. The centrepiece of his endeavour is a central park that connects the eastern and western sections of the apartment complex, and two pedestrian streets that connect the northern and southern sections. The three links were designed to be a space that is shared by apartment residents and outsiders, thereby facilitating its integration into the wider neighbourhood. The 1 km-long x 50 m-wide central park was designed as part of a revolutionary concept that gives it the quality of a community facility for the wider neighbourhood beyond the apartment complex. It will accommodate public facilities such as a senior centre, a library and a gym, both on and beneath the park; some of the facilities will be open to non-residents as well as residents. Access to these facilities from the outside is enhanced by the park, which will function as a double corridor that allows pedestrian through traffic both on the surface and using underground streets. The existence of pedestrian corridors and the absence of apartment complex walls will significantly improve the walkability of the area compared to the current apartment complex, whose design is not outsider friendly. In spite of the far-reaching innovation in design, the unchanged apartment complex system leaves unresolved doubts regarding the practicability of the new design. The superior public spaces of the apartment complex, when compared to surrounding older neighbourhoods that have very limited public space, will entice non-paying neighbours into the new apartment complex, not least because of its open design. The public architect intended only the pedestrian corridors to be open to outsiders, while other parts of the apartment complex are to be a private space for residents only – but no physical barriers between the ‘public’ and ‘private’ spaces have been planned. Meanwhile, the SMG does not share in any of the costs necessary for the completion of this ambitious plan except for the cost of employing the public architects to complete the design. The three corridors, including the public facilities, are all the collective private property of the apartment owners. The maintenance of the parks, streets and public facilities will be paid by the residents, although some of the costs may be recouped through the collection of entrance fees from users of the indoor facilities. These public spaces are private property in every aspect; nevertheless, the SMG plans to impose their public use. In a Korean context in which gating against pedestrians is rarely practised, the inherent contradictions and potential conflicts of interest were overlooked during the design stage, although

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Being Open MASTER PLAN

Pedestrian flow

FIGURE 4.3 Redevelopment concept of Garak Siyeong Apartment Complex. Source: Jeong (2013), with modification and translation by the author.

a variety of participants – from homeowners, architects to city officials – have provided input for the redevelopment plan. Whether the future apartment owners will accept the public-oriented plan of the SMG, and whether they will be ultimately willing to pay for the operation of a public space that is open to all, remains to be seen. Although no one can provide a definitive answer before the new apartment complex is completed and in operation, the following case – which shares multiple similarities to the apartment complex we have looked at here – provides some clues with regard to the possible reaction of residents to an influx of outsiders into their territory.

Case 2: Redevelopment and consequent gating of apartment complexes in a Seoul suburb The names of the apartment complexes concerned, and the city they are located in, are not revealed in this case study as a result of the negative publicity that the apartment complex in question has received in the Korean media. The study uses ACn and X as the names of the apartment complexes and the city respectively. X is a commuter town located outside Seoul and has a population of 350,000. It shares a border with Seoul and has a metro connection to the capital. The case

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LEGEND

Recommendations bv District Plan Location for amenities Vehicle and pedestrian flow Pedestrian flow

Sym bols added by the author Gating by residents AC1 to 4

N

0

50

150

300m

FIGURE 4.4 District Plan of 2004, and its results in 2013. Source: The District Plan of 2004, modified and translated by the author.

study concerns four apartment complexes (AC1, AC2, AC3 and AC4) in X, which were redeveloped and completed jointly in 2010. The larger neighbourhood where the four apartment complexes are located is composed of part of X’s downtown area and a residential area to the south. The metro station in the north of the commercial zone serves as a shopping area during the day and an entertainment district at night. The southern portion of the commercial area is dominated by a densely populated residential area that is almost entirely composed of apartment complexes that were built during different periods between the 1980s and the 2010s. A large park is located in the centre of the area, but its utility is rather limited since it is entirely located on a heavily forested hill and therefore has little usable space (see Figure 4.4). The area originally had six apartment complexes that were built in the mid-1980s by the Korea National Housing Corporation. When these apartments had been in existence for 30  years, a decision was made to redevelop the old AC1, AC2, AC3 and AC4 via the Joint Redevelopment Scheme. They were razed and rebuilt for a total of 7,000 households by early 2010. Since the redevelopment, AC1 and AC2 have become the most expensive apartment complexes in the city. Although

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their perimeters and their function as residences were kept intact, there were significant changes as a result of the redevelopment. While the old apartment complexes had low-rise apartment buildings, the new ones were reconstructed with high-rise buildings, some of them surpassing 30 storeys. As the apartment buildings went higher, the building–land ratio went lower, which meant a significant gain in open space. The whole of this enlarged open space could be devoted to amenities – primarily parks and sports grounds – because all the parking lots were placed underground. The quality of the open spaces was also significantly improved as a way of increasing the liveability and property values of the complexes themselves. While the open spaces of the old apartment complexes were a rarely used green ‘space’ with no apparent overall design, the new open space was transformed into an attractive and inviting ‘place’. The new open space was greatly enhanced with sophisticated landscaping that boasted expensive pine trees, ponds, waterfalls and even a miniature mountain covered with bonsai trees. Another important change in the design of the open spaces was the effort to turn them into gathering places for the community. Chairs, tables and umbrellas were placed on many corners of the apartment complexes, and traditional gazebos with wooden decking were built. Thus, the open spaces of these new apartment complexes were transformed from a mere green space (Koh 1996) into a park that people could enter and actively enjoy. While the change in the open spaces was the result of decisions made by homeowners and the private contractors, a second change came from the state. The street layout of the original apartment complexes built in the 1980s faithfully followed the principle of Perry’s Neighbourhood Unit, which discourages through traffic. The old AC2, AC3 and AC4 were designed not to allow any through traffic, while the old AC1 was designed to allow through traffic along its border with the hill park. Prior to the redevelopment, the planning authority established a District Plan for the redevelopment of the four complexes. This recommended allowing pedestrian through traffic in all four of the apartment complexes (City of X 2004). The pedestrian flow of the entire neighbourhood was planned to continue from one apartment complex to another, and from public roads to private roads. Unlike the old design, which strictly separated the flow into private and public territories, the new design established an integrated flow regardless of ownership of the space (see Figure 4.4). At first glance, the new changes seemed to be positive and to pursue a better living environment. With the enlarged and enhanced open space, the utopian dream of Le Corbusier – ‘Towers in a park’ – was realised (I. S. Park 2013: 102). The in-complex parks became a convivial place with plenty of seats and the dream of a walkable city took a leap forward as a result of the newly integrated pedestrian flows. However, it took less than a year from the completion of the redevelopment for the well-intentioned plan of the state to begin falling apart. One of the most contentious cases involving rights of way and gating in South Korea emerged in the new neighbourhoods after three of the four apartment complexes instituted partial or complete gating against pedestrians. In 2010 the residents of AC2 replaced the original low wooden fences with higher iron fences and installed two gates facing an

FIGURE 4.5A AND 4.5B

Source: author.

Gazebo (left) and sitting area (right) in AC1 (November 2013).

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older apartment complex. The residents of the neighbouring apartment complexes contested the decision and retaliated by sealing off their own gates, an action that proved largely ineffective and was later abandoned because the residents of AC2 had little reason to enter the older apartment complex anyway. AC4 soon followed suit, installing an electronic gate at an entry leading to an older apartment complex. The latter complex contested the decision, but its protests were ineffective. The series of gating incidents finally culminated in a rare case of large-scale residential enclosure in South Korea – at AC1. In late 2011 the residents of AC1 installed electronic gates at all eight of the pedestrian entry points that faced out to the public roads, literally transforming their residence into an urban fortress; this transformation was aided by the altitude of the apartment complex itself, which sat higher than the surrounding areas (see Figure 4.6). A local newspaper in X reported the plan before it was executed (Kang 2011), and the national media followed up the case less than a month after the electronic gates were installed.The media questioned whether such gating should be viewed as sheer selfishness or as a necessary security measure aimed at protecting privacy and property rights (Ham 2012; Jeong 2012; Kim 2012). The interest of the media stemmed from the fact that AC1 had broken a long-held social consensus regarding the common spaces of apartment complexes, a consensus under which pedestrian access by outsiders had previously been allowed. The residents of AC1 began experiencing an influx of outsiders into their open space not long after they began moving into their newly built apartment complex. AC1 is the only apartment complex of the four that does not allow any vehicular access on the ground; instead it has adopted a deck structure by placing roads and parking lots entirely underground. As a result, a road that crosses AC1 from north to south is entirely underground; this route also happens to be part of a shortcut for people living to the south of AC1 wanting to reach the metro station and the shopping area to the north. This underground road is a part of the traffic flow that is indicated in the District Plan, but it is also the main artery for the underground parking lot. Although outsiders’ vehicles could not use the road – which was blocked off by rising arm barriers – pedestrians used it freely to walk to the metro station. However, the residents did not easily tolerate this use of their parking lot as a public thoroughfare, and the police had to intervene following an incident in which underground wall tiles and a rising arm barrier were broken by drunken college students living in neighbouring apartment complexes.The nuisance was not limited to the underground areas and residents raised a variety of complaints about public use of ‘their’ space: these included the use of the grounds as a shortcut by outsiders; drunkards sleeping and urinating; high school students dating and smoking; kindergartens bringing children in for picnics; outsiders using the sports facilities in uniformed groups; and an increase in instances of littering. Residents were concerned about their deteriorating living conditions and a possible decline in property values; they also resented ‘running a public park for the whole city’ at their own expense. As a countermeasure, the residents installed more security cameras, hired a monitoring agent and two night security guards, and erected ‘no trespassing’ signs. These measures helped, but they could not eradicate the nuisance entirely due to the open

FIGURE 4.6A AND 4.6B

ground (November 2013). Source: author.

AC1, an urban fortress of electronic gates and elevated artificial

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design of AC1. Every available open space of the apartment complex is used either as a park or for sports facilities, so it is hard to monitor every corner. Owing to the two-level deck structure, the space that must be monitored is doubled.The 8-hectare apartment complex has 12 pedestrian entrances, making it hard to challenge every person suspected of being an outsider. The president of the Homeowners’ Union for Redevelopment3 of AC1, as well as some of the residents, had initially been against gating, deeming the measure too radical and too costly. However, the president was convinced of the necessity for full gating after being antagonised by the continuing level of nuisance and the botched repairs to the broken tiles in the underground road. Since the broken tiles were customised, the same product could not be found to replace them. Two electronic gates were installed at both ends of the underground road as the first exclusionary measure. Encouraged by the positive results of this partial gating, the Homeowners’ Union for Redevelopment voted by a large margin to install electronic gates at the other six entrances, a measure that cost residents KRW190 million (US$170,000). This comprehensive gating caused uproar in both the adjacent neighbourhoods and in the media, but the voices of protest were soon muted since they lacked a legal basis. The municipality was also alarmed by the unprecedented scale of the enclosure.The mayor and a local assemblyman tried to dissuade apartment residents from gating, but they failed to do so and lacked the power to prevent it taking place. A civil complaint was filed by the City during the construction of the gates, but after consulting legal experts the municipal Department of Housing was forced to concede the right of a private entity to determine who can and cannot enter its own territory (City of X 2011). Following this gating episode the local assembly formally denounced the incompetence of the local administration regarding the ongoing gating that was going on in various apartment complexes in the city, but no effective binding measure resulted (Municipal Assembly of X 2011). The episode ended with six of the 14 pedestrian flows envisaged by the planning authority for the four apartment complexes being blocked off by the residents within two years of completion of the new neighbourhoods (see Figure 4.4). No single argument can pinpoint precisely the reasoning behind the gating decisions, but the repeated rationale appears to be resentment arising from the free use of apartment complex space by the public – usage considered costly by the private owners of this ‘public space.’ I think the city should pay us a fee for using (our) park. The old members of the Homeowners’ Union for Redevelopment haven’t created an apartment complex but a free playground for the city. The special landscaping cost us an additional 5 billion won. Was it all for the benefit of outsiders? (President of the Homeowners’ Union for Redevelopment of AC1) The state’s dream of creating a city for all through public use of private territory was shattered when the apartment residents exercised their ownership rights to the maximum degree through the installation of gates. Faced with such resistance, the

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state’s plan collapsed easily because it could not contest the fact that its apartment complex system was entirely based on private ownership; indeed the apartment residents effectively utilised that very same system to negate the state’s new agenda. The ongoing redevelopment of the Garak Siyeong Apartment Complex is faithfully following in the footsteps of AC1. The rickety apartment complex will be reborn as a luxurious condominium following a private redevelopment that is based upon the public plan.The masterplan of the apartment complex, with strong public intervention, pursues even more openness than that of AC1. However, once again, the future imbalance between the newly upgraded neighbourhood and its stagnant surroundings has not been addressed by the planning authority. An influx of outsiders to the new apartment complex is almost guaranteed and the homeowners will be tempted to chase free-riders out of their expensive properties. If the electronic gates rise again, will the state acknowledge defeat once more?

The future of urban gating: critical perspectives The gating of apartment complexes in South Korea offers global and domestic insights into the phenomenon. Incremental gating in Korea over half a century exposes three dimensions of gated communities:  the economic, the political and the physical. The word ‘gated’ primarily represents the physical aspect, but a ‘community’ needs motivation to form and act together. The gated community, especially in South Korea, is an autonomous benefit-pursuing community based on geographical proximity. It is an economic and political phenomenon that manifests as a physical form. The gatedness that is embedded in Korean apartment complexes was born from institutions created by the state. The Korean case is unique in that the state has systematically created a certain type of residential community that is an autonomous economic and political unit. Apartment complexes in South Korea have been able to autonomously produce and consume local public goods without resorting to the sort of explicit gating seen in other countries. However, as the new generation of apartment complexes have been upgraded to attract non-residents to their new amenities, some of them have entered a phase of active gating. This ‘gating by phase’ clearly demonstrates the different categories of gating. Initially, the state unwittingly created the economic and political conditions that were ripe for the transformation of apartment complexes into gated communities. As new apartment complexes obtained rare local public goods that were not to be found in older neighbourhoods, the residents of the former added those physical features of gated communities that were aimed at excluding non-residents and enabling them to monopolise the results of the in-complex production. This has meant that the gating of Korean apartment complexes has moved from a kind of economic and political gating that was carefully controlled by the state, to a more physical type of gating that has been instituted by homeowners. The measures taken by the state to tackle physical gating can be understood as an expression of the state’s concern over its loss of control.

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Three distinct gating actors are found in this new dynamic: pro-gating apartment owners, the general public and the state. Each actor has its own interests in the public space of apartment complexes, and each acts rationally based on its own interests. The actions of each actor help to advance gating  – either intentionally or unintentionally – under the current privatised neighbourhood system. Pro-gating apartment owners want to exclude non-paying users from accessing the costly local public goods within their apartment complexes. To this end they install gating mechanisms to protect their own economic interests. The general public, meanwhile, wants to use the better maintained private territories that lie within the apartment complexes for passage, rest and leisure – regardless of the fact that they do not share in the cost. Nevertheless, they are still apprehensive about the enclosure of such spaces. In turn, their interests and actions provide the pro-gating apartment owners with a kind of justification for their residential enclosures.The Korean state has two contradictory interests with regard to gating. It has a financial stake in maintaining the economic and political structure of apartment complexes in order to reduce its own infrastructure management burdens; but it also has an interest in managing urban space efficiently  – not just for individual apartment complexes, but for the city as a whole, as a way of promoting wider economic and social gains. The state wishes to preserve the economic and political structure of apartment complexes because of their benefits to private service production, but at the same time it wants to deny the physical features that are characteristic of a private neighbourhood. The state is therefore situated in a contradictory position which neither denies nor accepts the nature of apartment complexes, which are set up in a way that inevitably steers them towards gating from the very outset (see Figure  4.7). The state’s efforts to pursue these opposite interests are, naturally, inefficient. Design interventions that are aimed at making apartment complexes open to the public are ineffective, and even embarrassing. They are ineffective because the interventions rely on the goodwill of the apartment residents. This tactic has generally worked in the past, but some new apartment complexes have begun to abandon this unwritten social contract as a result of the cost of producing such privatised local public goods increasing in line with the significant quality of the upgrades. It is embarrassing for the state to see its design interventions so easily defeated by apartment residents and used as a catalyst for (rather than a deterrent against) gating. The state cannot produce meaningful countermeasures against gating because it continues to maintain an apartment complex system that is completely based on private ownership and governance – a system that gives apartment owners free reign over the spaces that they have purchased. Three future scenarios emerge from the possible policy paths that are available to the state. The first scenario involves keeping the current apartment complex system intact, but tolerating gating. This scenario is financially attractive for the state and fair in terms of the cost-sharing in the production of local public goods that results from the user payment principle. However, this path may serve to exacerbate the gaps between different ‘qualities’ of neighbourhood; and the appearance of gates may also create social tensions as a visible symbol of segregation.

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Actors of gating

Private city

Public city

Pro-gating apartment owners General public State

FIGURE  4.7 Attitudes of different social groups regarding the use of public space within apartment complexes. Source: author.

While the first scenario addresses the continuation of the existing system of a ‘private city’, the second scenario aims instead for a ‘public city’. This is totally new territory in South Korea. More radical scholars argue in favour of the abolition of the apartment complex system as a way of restoring urban flows and enhancing communication (I. S. Park 2013: 310; C. S. Park 2013: 266). But following this path would be expensive, and it is unlikely that the state will pay to maintain the public spaces within all apartment complexes, let alone purchase them. This scenario will only occur if the negative impacts of residential gating reach an unbearable level. The most feasible strategy in this scenario is to abolish the apartment complex system for new residential developments; but ending such a firmly established system would require a catalytic event. When we consider the cost of implementing any new strategy, and the current behaviour of the state, the most probable scenario in the near future will involve identifying solutions that reduce gating by improving the existing apartment complex system. This scenario may be already occurring through the anti-gating efforts of the municipalities, but central government is scarcely involved. The two arms of government need to act together, especially since the municipalities can do little to affect the situation within the limitations imposed by institutions that have been established by central government. If the principal role of municipalities is the imposition of design interventions and the issuance of administrative measures against gating, then central government should take on the role of moderating the rigid privatised structure of the apartment complex system in terms of ownership and maintenance responsibilities. For example, it could create a cost-sharing programme for those public spaces within apartment complexes that are regarded as strategically important to the wider neighbourhood. An apartment complex size cap aimed at preventing any single one of them having an overly large footprint over the urban space might also be considered. The municipality could also participate in the restructuring of the system. For instance, municipal aid that is currently provided for apartment complex repairs on an age-based system could be made dependent upon their openness to the public. But in the absence of institutional change imposed by the state, this intermediate scenario will falter. In the event of the failure of this scenario, Koreans may be forced to accept either the first or the second scenario.

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The strong reaction of apartment complex residents vis-à-vis the intensifying zeal of the state to make the space within such places more public, coupled with the dwindling feasibility of the Joint Redevelopment Scheme, offers an opportunity to reconsider the current apartment complex regime in South Korea. Although the residential clubbing that was enabled by the apartment complex system has been one of the key factors behind the privately funded modernisation of Korean cities, the physical gating subsequently introduced by apartment residents as a way of monopolising those club goods that they viewed as their own has served, in fact, to sever the urban fabric and divide the people living in it. Urban gating is a global phenomenon, but its spread in Korean cities – where the ratio of privatised neighbourhoods is unusually high – will have bigger impacts on city life here than it does in most other countries. Today, economic and societal developments with regard to apartment complexes are driving the Korean state to a critical juncture – but which solution should it adopt? Whether neighbourhoods are turned into impenetrable cells or, alternatively, into organic parts of a more coherent city, will largely depend on the ability of the state to confront its own contradictions and elaborate effective strategies beyond the simple making of gestures.

Notes 1 2 3

The percentage of apartment complexes increases even more in regional cities that have shorter histories than Seoul. A District Plan is a detailed urban plan of the municipality that is established with regard to the scale of individual lots. It is applicable where a greater level of public intervention is desirable for proper urban development. The Homeowners’ Union for Redevelopment is supposed to be dissolved at the end of the redevelopment phase, but the one for AC1 continued to exist as a result of unresolved litigation.

References Blakely, E. and Snyder, M. (1997) Fortress America:  Gated Communities in the United States. Washington, DC: Brookings Institution Press Buchanan, J. (1965) ‘An economic theory of clubs’ in Economica, vol. 32 (February): 1–14 Charmes, E. (2010) ‘Cul-de-sacs, Superblocks and Environmental Areas as Supports of Residential Territorialization’ in Journal of Urban Design, vol. 15, no. 3: 357–74 Choi, B. D. (2005) ‘Revitalization of Common Space in Apartment Complexes for Urban Community’ in Journal of Korean Urban Geography, vol. 8, no. 3: 35–51 [In Korean] Choi, J. M. (2007) ‘A Case Study on the Gated Community of Lower Level Housing Complexes in the United States and in Japan’ in Housing Studies Review, vol. 15, no. 2: 99–132 [In Korean] City of X, Class I District Plan for Cheolsan 2 and 3 Danjis and Ha’anbon, 1 and 2 Danjis, Notification No. 2004–214 of Gyeonggi Province (6 September 2004) [In Korean] City of X,‘Construction work for gates of AC1’, Sae’ol Online Petition Centre (20 December 2011) [In Korean] Available at: http://eminwon.gm.go.kr (accessed 3 June 2013)

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Costa Vargas, J. H. (2006) ‘When a Favela Dared to Become a Gated Condominium – The Politics of Race and Urban Space in Rio de Janeiro’ in Latin American Perspectives, vol. 33, no. 4: 49–81 Coy, M. (2006) ‘Gated Communities and Urban Fragmentation in Latin America:  the Brazilian Experience’ in GeoJournal, vol. 66: 121–32 Cuthbert, A. R. and McKinnell, K. G. (1997) ‘Ambiguous Space, Ambiguous Rights  – Corporate Power and Social Control in Hong Kong’ in Cities, vol. 14, no. 5: 295–311 Cséfalvay, Z. and Webster, C. (2012) ‘Gates or No Gates? A Cross-European Enquiry into the Driving Forces behind Gated Communities’ in Regional Studies, vol. 46, no. 3: 293–308 Doling, J. (1999) ‘Housing Policies and the Little Tigers: How Do They Compare with Other Industrialised Countries?’ in Housing Studies, vol. 14, no. 2: 229–50 Gelézeau, V. (2008) ‘Changing Socio-Economic Environments, Housing Culture and New Urban Segregation in Seoul’ in European Journal of East Asian Studies, vol. 7, no. 2: 295–321 Glasze, G. (2005) ‘Some Reflections on the Economic and Political Organisation of Private Neighbourhoods’ in Housing Studies, vol. 20, no. 2: 221–33 Gooblar, A. (2002) ‘Outside the Walls:  Urban Gated Communities and their Regulation within the British Planning System’ in European Planning Studies, vol. 10, no. 3: 321–4 Grant, J. (2005) ‘Planning Responses to Gated Communities in Canada’ in Housing Studies, vol. 20, no. 2: 273–85 Grant, J. and Mittelsteadt, L. (2004) ‘Types of gated communities’ in Environment and Planning B: Planning and Design, vol. 31: 913–30 Ha, S. K. and Kim, T. S. (2003) Socioeconomic Theory of the Urban Development in South Korea. Seoul: Pakyoung [In Korean] Ham, J. (2012) ‘Don’t Enter Our Apartment Complex… A Locked Apartment Complex’, JTBC [Joongang Tongyang Broadcasting Company](27 January) [In Korean] Jeong, J. K. (2013) ‘Proposition for Redevelopment of Garak Siyeong Apartment Complex’. Presentation for Seoul Metropolitan Government [In Korean] Jeong, S. (2012) ‘Controversy over a Large Apartment Complex Completely Closed by Screen Doors’ in Herald Biz (25 January) Jun, S. I. (2009) Crazy for Apartments, Seoul: Design House [In Korean] Jung, H. M. (2012) ‘A Study on the Spatial Characteristics and the Socio-cultural Context of Gated Communities’ in Seoul Studies, vol. 13, no. 1: 37–56 [In Korean] Kang, C. (2011) ‘Fencing Apartment Complex Becomes Higher and Harder’ in X Times (6 October) [In Korean] Kim, J. E. and Choi, M. J. (2012) ‘Empirical Analyses of Physical Exclusiveness of Multi-family Housing Estates in Seoul and Its Socioeconomic Effects’ in Journal of the Korean Housing Association, vol. 23, no. 5: 103–11 [In Korean] Kim, J. (2012) ‘Why did You Come to My Home? … Eyebrows Raised over a Closed Apartment Complex’, Seoul Broadcasting System (26 January) [In Korean] Koh, J. (1996) ‘Survey of Preference for Improvement of the Quality of Apartment Complexes’ in Housing Forum, 1996: 2 [In Korean] Lee, S. J. and Han T. (2006) ‘The Demise of “Korea, Inc.”:  Paradigm Shift in Korea’s Developmental State’ in Journal of Contemporary Asia, vol. 36, no. 3: 305–24 McKenzie, E. (2005) ‘Constructing the Pomerium in Las Vegas: a Case Study of Emerging Trends in American Gated Communities’ in Housing Studies, vol. 20, no. 2: 187–203 Manzi, T. and Smith-Bowers, B. (2005) ‘Gated Communities as Club Goods: Segregation or Social Cohesion?’ in Housing Studies, vol. 20, no. 2: 345–59 Ministry of Land, Infrastructure and Transport (2000) ‘Guide for District Plan’, Government document [In Korean]

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Municipal Assembly of X, Minutes of the Committee for Welfare and Construction (2011) Municipal document (2 December) [In Korean] Nam, Y. W. (2006) ‘The Formation and Classification of Gated Communities’ in Korean Urban Geography Journal, vol. 9, no. 1,: 81–90 [In Korean] Park, B. G. (1998) ‘Where Do Tigers Sleep at Night? The State’s Role in Housing Policy in South Korea and Singapore’ in Economic Geography, vol. 74, no. 3: 272–88 Park, C. S. (2013) Apartment: a Society ruled by Public Indifference and Private Passion. Seoul: Marty [In Korean] Park, I. S. (2013) Apartment Society of Korea:  Cities Imprisoned in the Republic of Apartment Complex and Daily Lives. Seoul: Hyeonamsa [In Korean] Pow, C. P. (2009) ‘Public Intervention, Private Aspiration:  Gated Communities and the Condominisation of Housing Landscapes in Singapore’ in Asia Pacific Viewpoint, vol. 50, no. 2: 215–27 Seoul Metropolitan Government (2004) Guide for District Plan, Municipal document [In Korean] Seoul Metropolitan Government (2013) ‘Redevelopment Plan of Garak Siyeong Apartment Complex in Songpa Passes the Municipal Committee of Architecture’, Press release of the Department of Housing Policy, SMG (8 May) [In Korean] Tiebout, C. (1956) ‘A Pure Theory of Local Expenditures’ in Journal of Political Economy, vol. 64, no. 5: 416–24 Tomba, L. (2010) ‘Gating Urban Spaces in China: Inclusion, Exclusion and Government’ in S. Bagaeen and O. Uduku (eds) Gated Communities: Social Sustainability in Contemporary and Historical Gated Developments.London: Earthscan

5 URBAN GATING IN THAILAND The new debates Veeramon Suwannasang

Introduction There are a number of interconnected issues around urban form and sustainability that have played a big part in the international agenda in recent decades. While environmental and economic issues have been recognized as the two main pillars of sustainable development – and gained a wide range of consideration since 1990 – since the 2000s concern has moved towards the examination of the more social aspects of sustainability (i.e. social sustainability). Despite increasing concern over social sustainability, the theory of it is yet to be well-defined and is still part of an ongoing debate. Over the past 50 years the arguments and studies around the social aspect of sustainability have focused, with increasing concern, on the importance of ‘quality of life’ in cities (Jacobs 1962; Davidson et al. 1991; Elkin et al. 1991; Hediger 2000). The theory of quality of life itself has currency in many disciplines, including: planning (Newman 1972, Blamley et  al. 2006, Lorenc et  al. 2012), politics (Riddell 1985; Littig and GrieBler 2005; Furedi 2006; Renauer 2007) and socio-economic analysis (Riger and Lavrakas 1981; Burgess 1994; Ross and Jang 2000; Burke et al. 2009; O’Compo et al. 2009), as well as in various contexts, from the local to the national (Castell 1997; Polese and Stren 2000; Prezza et al. 2001; Burton 2003; Colantonio and Dixon 2011). Despite its popularity in literature, ‘quality of life’ is abstract in nature and is therefore difficult to measure. For this, researchers have attempted to clarify the dimensions of such a theory, leading to several concepts regarding quality of life in the literature. Among these, a widely accepted concept is that of a ‘sense of community’ (Sarason 1974; Chavis et al. 1986; McMillan and Chavis 1986). As with quality of life, sense of community is also an ambiguous concept and it is difficult to operationalize and quantify the construct. Among the available definitions of a sense of community in literature is one proposed by McMillan (1976),

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and one which has been widely accepted at the international level. According to McMillan (1976), a sense of community is ‘a feeling that members have of belonging and being important to each other, and, a shared faith that members’ needs will be met by their commitment to be together’. McMillan and Chavis (1986) principally studied the definition and theory of a sense of community. They found that there are four main dimensions directly relating to the concept, namely; ‘Membership’ (i.e. a feeling that one has in being a part of a community, and feeling one has a right to belong); ‘Influence’ (i.e. their impact on each other within their community); ‘Integration and needs fulfilment’ (i.e. the feelings of safety and support and the belief that need(s) will be met within their community); and ‘Shared emotional connection’ (i.e. the bond that has developed over time through positive interaction with community members) (McMillan and Chavis 1986).These four dimensions are distinct in their own right, and yet they are interrelated; consequently, they work dynamically to generate and maintain a sense of community. In fact, sense of community is an issue surrounding our everyday life, and various disciplines engage in the concept. Mostly, people look for belonging, identity, comfort and companionship with those who live around them, whether this be on their street, in their neighbourhoods, or elsewhere (Jacobs 1962; Relph 1976). There are numerous examples in past research which show that a decline in a sense of community, or its absence, has a negative impact (Fried 1963; Nisbet 1967).To underline this point, Sarason (1974) observes: ‘[T]he absence or dilution of the psychological sense of community is the most destructive dynamic in the lives of people in our society.’ It also appears that community support not only soothes emotional stress, it may also prevent it occurring in the first place (Riger and Lavrakas 1981). In addition, restoring a sense of community appears to be the answer to many of modern society’s deepest problems (Poplin 1972). Accordingly, much research has been undertaken to find out what the relationship is between a sense of community and the built environment; why different types of built environment lead to different levels of this sense of community; how the built environment can increase a sense of community so that the quality of life in cities can be enhanced; and how cities can themselves build resilience against the sort of social illness commonly to be found in the largest and most economically driven of them (Doolittle and MacDonald 1978; Robinson and Wilkinson 1995; Prezza and Constatini 1998; Kingston et al. 1999; Colombo et al. 2001; Miers and Fisher 2002; Rogers and Sukolratanametee 2009; Sakip et al. 2012). Consequently, the concept of a sense of community has captured the attention of social scientists across many disciplines, especially those covering the built environment and psychology. Although much research, worldwide, has presented the social aspect of gated communities (Bagaeen and Uduku 2010), there is no information available on the correlation between a sense of community and physical boundaries in gated and non-gated communities in Thailand. Despite the sharp rise in the number of gated communities in the country, there is a lack of research and no empirical data or

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quantitative information about their impact on a sense of community. Additionally, there has been no comparative study about differences in the sense of community between gated and non-gated community developments in Thailand. In addition to this absence of research on the correlation between a sense of community and gated communities, there is also a lack of studies that specifically investigate gated communities in Thailand especially in Bangkok – a city that has experienced a major growth of such housing developments in recent decades. The total number and location of gated communities in Bangkok is imprecise due to the absence of reliable data – which stems from a lack of consensus on how gated communities are to be defined in Thailand. Gated communities in the country, therefore, have different meanings for different audiences. Acquiring data from government agencies and private organizations on the number and location of gated communities is difficult. This is because the recorded data in their systems is made up from a combination of different types of housing developments (i.e. gated communities, apartments, condominiums, general communities and private roads with a few houses), which makes it impossible to extract the precise number of gated community developments. Accordingly, the key purpose of this chapter is to address this gap in our knowledge and clarify the overall number and location of gated communities in Bangkok; to study the reasons people move into gated communities; and to investigate the sense of community in gated and non-gated communities in a Thai context.

Urban gating in Thailand: structures and processes Thailand is a constitutional monarchy in South-east Asia, with an approximate total area of 198,000 square miles. In 2013 its population was around 64 million people and 94 per cent were Thai (United Nations Thailand 2013).The country has enjoyed economic growth since the 1980s and has recently (2011) been upgraded in terms of its income categorization, from being a lower-middle income country to an upper-middle income one (World Bank 2013). Despite Thailand’s economic growth, disparity remains a key problem. This has led to a cause-effect relationship, with large populations migrating to the big cities, especially Bangkok (National Statistical Office 2013). While Bangkok’s total area accounts for just 0.3 per cent of the country’s total landmass, it houses 15 per cent of the population (Bangkok Metropolitan Administration 2011). The significant differences between Bangkok and the rest of the country in terms of income, employment opportunities and public services (especially infrastructure) have created an influx of migration, which serves to not only exacerbate the disparity, but also to create a housing shortage in the city. With the rapid increase in population since the 1980s, there has been a growing demand for housing. As a result, housing has been variously developed by both the private and the public sectors.The course of such development has reinforced fragmented spatial forms, as well as moulding the distinct social characteristics of the city.

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Bangkok was laid out as a canal- and river-based spatial system, originally arranged in a grid or quasi-grid form along a number of alignments. The majority of these grids connect to the main roads, a few of them connect to other roads, and the rest are dead-ends (cul-de-sacs) (Kasemsook 2003). In a typical Bangkok urban layout, inhabitants were socially integrated regardless of spatial segregation: the rich could live next to the poor, and the immediate surroundings of the illiterate could also be those of the well-educated. However, this typical spatial layout has changed to a new form in recent decades as the city has expanded to the outskirts, a factor that has contributed to the more obvious spatial and social segregation of its inhabitants. Bangkok is now a road-oriented city and its urbanization has largely depended upon highway construction. Over the past 80 years, Bangkok’s urban growth was mainly concentrated in two directions: first, from the centre to the airport in the north; and second, from the centre to the port in the east. However, with the rapid increase in the numbers of Thais moving to Bangkok, along with the construction of expressways, ring roads, and the Bangkok mass transit system (i.e. BTS sky train), urban growth in more recent times has expanded in all directions out from the city centre. These developments, which have served to rupture the original grid layout of Bangkok, have led to a divided city. The local grid has now changed to a more ‘island-like form’ (Kasemsook 2003) whereby each island connects to the main roads via one or two small roads (see Figure 5.1). According to the author’s own observations (between May 2010 and July 2013)  the island-like spatial form is largely dominated by private gated communities in which most of the residents are of the same socio-economic status.

Small Road Small Road

Main Road

Small Road

FIGURE 5.1 An island-like spatial form in Bangkok. Source: author.

Small Road

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Gated communities: concept and definition It is important to clarify what ‘gated communities’ means in this chapter, since the term has been defined in several ways that has led to various meanings being understood in different countries. Mostly, gated communities refer to housing developments that restrict public access by the use of gates, fences, security guards or security devices such as CCTV (Blakely and Snyder 1997; Helsley and Strange 1999; Grant 2004). Regardless of this common understanding, consideration of physical characteristics alone is not enough for any definition. For example, do ‘gated communities’ include detached houses with their own gates, and what of flats with door entry systems, tower blocks with concierge systems, or partially walled housing projects? It is for this reason that this chapter is seeking a broader and more comprehensive definition. One of these includes the notion of collective tenure and incorporated organizational arrangements (Le Goix and Webster 2008). This central feature consists of legal frameworks and generates the constitutional conditions under which gated community residents live. The internal governing bodies are known variously as Common Interest Developments (CIDs) and Residents Associations in the United States; as Strata-Title Developments in Australia and New Zealand; and as and Homeowner Associations in the United Kingdom (McKenzie 1994; Webster 2001; Gordon 2004). In Thailand, such bodies are known as ‘Ni-Ti-Book-Kon’ and ‘Gam-Ma-Garn-Moo-Barn’. Combining both physical and legal characteristics,Atkinson and Blandy (2005) proposed a more precise definition of ‘gated communities’ to include ‘walled or fenced housing developments, to which public access is restricted, characterized by legal agreements which tie the residents to a common code of conduct and (usually) collective responsibility for management’. As a result of the preciseness of this definition, I shall adopt it as the main criteria when considering gated communities for this study.

Sense of community: concept, dimension, tools The words used to convey the sense of community that exists within gated communities are one of the techniques normally employed by gated developers (Blakely and Snyder 1997; Roger and Sukolratanametee 2009). But despite this popular claim, the correlation between the physical boundaries of gated communities and a sense of community is questionable and has captured research attention in recent years (see Abdullah et al. 2012). In many countries, the concept of a sense of community itself has seen a return to popularity (Blakely and Snyder 1997; Prezza and Costantini 1998; Talen 1999; Wilson-Doenges 2000; Atkinson and Blandy 2005; Roitman 2005; Wu 2005; Blandy 2006). Not only do politicians adopt the idea of endorsing community spirit to capture votes, urban planners also promote and operationalize the idea of a sense of community in order to cure social malaise, including crime (Taylor et al. 1984; Welsh and Hoshi 2002;Villarreal and Silva 2006). Therefore, the word ‘community’

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and the concept of a sense of community have returned to the political, social and planning agendas as not only something which is now ‘lost’, but also something that needs to be actively revitalized. Developers have picked up on this need, and their solution has been the creation of gated communities. According to past research, there are currently two ideas associated with the relationship between gated communities and a sense of community. Lang and Danielson (1997) suggested that gated communities helped increase the sense of community within a community as a result of the presence of boundaries and controlled access – there was a shared and protected territory among residents. Blakely and Snyder (1997) point out, however, that there is no significant difference to be found in the sense of community between gated and non-gated communities, because sense of community within gated communities is not a primary social value; the sense of community that residents felt was ephemeral and based on socio-economic status a rather than an actual bond with their community. Blakely and Snyder (1997) supported this claim by comparing gated communities with other communities. The results showed that gated residents felt the same sense of community as residents from elsewhere.This argument has been reaffirmed by Wilson-Doenges (2000), whose research showed that in low income communities (where annual income per family was below £7,200), both gated and non-gated residents showed no significant differences in the levels of their sense of community. However, when testing sense of community in the higher income communities (where annual income per family was above £43,200), she found that the sense of community among higher income gated communites was significantly lower than that of their non-gated counterparts (Wilson-Doenges 2000).

The measurement of sense of community Four decades ago, when Sarason (1974) introduced the concept of a sense of community, a number of renowned researchers have debated, developed and theorized the dimensions underlying the foundations of a sense of community (Doolittle and MacDonald 1978; Glynn 1981; Buckner 1988; Skjaeveland et al. 1996; Long and Perkins 2003). Four dimensions of a sense of community, proposed by McMillan and Chavis (1986), provide the best construct within this field (Chipuer and Pretty 1999; Prezza et al. 2009). Based on the four dimensions of a sense of community outlined earlier in this chapter, Chavis et al. (1986) introduced the 12-item Sense of Community Index, or SCI. SCI has become the scale most often used for capturing the level of sense of community at the international level, and it covers different cultures as well as various contexts; for example, blocks and neighbourhoods (Colombo et  al. 2001; Kingston et al. 1999; Brodsky et al. 1999; Chavis et al. 1986); religious communities (Miers and Fisher 2002); school settings (Pretty et al. 1994); work groups (Pretty and McCarthy 1991); internet communities (Foster 2004); immigrant communities (Sonn 2002); adolescents in residential communities (Pretty et al. 1996); and gated communities (Wilson-Doenges 2000).

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TABLE 5.1 SCI-2 Index

Not at all 1

2

3

4

5

6

7 8

9 10

11

I get important needs of mine met because I am part of this community. Community members and I value the same things. This community has been successful in getting the needs of its members met. Being a member of this community makes me feel good. When I have a problem, I can talk about it with members of this community. People in this community have similar needs, priorities and goals. I can trust people in this community. I can recognize most of the members of this community. Most community members know me. This community has symbols and expressions of membership such as clothes, signs, art, architecture, logos, landmarks and flags that people can recognize. I put a lot of time and effort into being part of this community.

Somewhat

Mostly

Completely

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Not at all 12

13

14

15

16

17

18 19

20

21

22

23

24

Being a member of this community is a part of my identity. Fitting into this community is important to me. This community can influence other communites. I care about what other community members think of me. I have influence over what this community is like. If there is a problem in this community, members can get it solved. This community has good leaders. It is very important to me to be a part of this community. I am with other communtiy members a lot and enjoy being with them. I expect to be a part of this community for a long time. Members of this community have shared important events together, such as holidays, celebrations or disasters. I feel hopeful about the future of this community. Members of this community care about each other.

Source: Chavis et al. (2008).

Somewhat

Mostly

97

Completely

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Regardless of its popularity in the literature, SCI is subject to limitation and criticism. Theoretically based, SCI consists of 12 statements that participants respond to with ‘true’ or ‘false’ answers. This has led to a series of studies that raise questions about the true-false response format, due to its limited variability. Importantly, the validity of its sub-scale items has also been subjected to criticism. According to various studies, SCI’s sub-scale items showed inconsistent reliability (Tartaglia 2006; Proescholdbell et al. 2006; Long and Perkins 2003; Chipuer and Pretty 1999). In addition to concerns about the variability of SCI’s response form, and the validity of its sub-scale items, SCI’s adequacy as a cross-cultural measure has also been questioned. Despite being widely used in various cultures and contexts, SCI has not reflected more recent research findings. In 1999 Chipuer and Pretty, who examined the psychometric properties of the SCI in neighbourhood and workplace surroundings, found that SCI seemed to be factored differently from the construct proposed by McMillan and Chavis (1986). Long and Perkins (2003) also pointed out similar problems with the SCI items.They employed confirmatory factor analysis (CFA) to test the 1-factor, and hypothesized 4-factor models of the SCI as a methodological improvement. They also found that the ‘goodness of fit’ indices showed a poor fit solution for both tests (Long and Perkins 2003). However, it is worth noting that these claimed weaknesses stem from the SCI items and not from the four dimensions of a sense of community.

Sense of Community Index 2 (SCI-2) In 2008, Chavis and his colleagues (2008) revised the sense of community components and came up with a new index called Sense of Community Index 2 (SCI-2). They proposed a new scale with 24 items, each categorised into one of four groups representing each dimension of sense of community: integration, membership, influence, and shared emotional connection. To test their index, 1,800 immigrants and host community members in 19 geographic areas across Colorado State in the USA, were selected through a stratified snowball sampling method. The study received an 88.5 per cent response rate and the Cronbach’s alpha showed that their overall index was, indeed, a highly reliable measure (coefficient alpha  =  0.94), with scores of 0.79–0.86 for the sub-scales (see Chavis et al. 2008). To eliminate the limited variability of true/false responses as required by the earlier SCI, SCI-2 adopts a four-point Likert scale (‘Not at all’ (score = 0), ‘somewhat’ (score = 1), ‘mostly’ (score = 2), and ‘completely’ (score = 3)) to interpret the level of a sense of community. The overall sense of community score is therefore the sum of a four-point Likert scale from 24 questions (see Table 5.1) – of which the SCI-2’s maximum score is 72. Accordingly, each index of SCI-2 is aimed to reflect McMillan and Chavis’s (1986) four dimensions of sense of community. In doing so, items 1–6 (see Table 5.1) represent the first dimension, ‘integration and

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needs fulfilment’; items 7–12 represent the second dimension, ‘membership’; items 13–18 represent the third dimension, ‘influence’; and the rest of the items represent the fourth dimension, ‘shared emotional connection’. The overall level of a sense of community is therefore the sum of SCI-2’s 24 items. To date there have been no claims against the veracity of the foundation of SCI-2 and its sub-scale items. With its credibility proven to counteract the weaker points from the original SCI, and its stronger method in testing a sense of community, SCI-2 is the scale selected by this study to assess a sense of community.

Methodology This chapter offers an empirical study of gated communities in Thailand; its three aims are to show the number of gated communities and their locations in Bangkok, to discover the reasons that motivate moving into gated communities, and to examine the levels of a sense of community in both gated and non-gated Thai communities. In pursuit of the first aim, the number and location of gated communities in Bangkok presented in this chapter have been solely observed and examined by the author herself between May 2010 and July 2013 – mostly by employing satellite imaginary and self-observation. The distribution pattern of gated communities is presented in map form (see Figure 5.2, below). In pursuit of the second aim, the author selected three gated communities of differing socio-economic status to study residents’ reasons for moving into a gated community. A set of formal emails introducing the author and the purpose of the research were sent to a list of potential gated communities, asking their internal governing association for permission to contact residents. Few granted permission. The selection of gated communities for this study was therefore limited to those that did grant permission, and from these three were subsequently selected. These three gated communities share similarities in terms of their size (total number of houses); but they differ in terms of residents’ socio-economic status (defined here solely in terms of the cost of buying their house). For the purposes of this study, a low socio-economic status gated community refers to one where house prices were under £200,000; a medium socio-economic status gated community refers to those between £200,000–£500,000; and a high socio-economic status gated community refers to those in which homes cost over £500,000.The majority of gated community residents in Thailand are Thai; accordingly all respondents in this study are Thai citizens. Questionnaires asking about their reasons for living within a gated community were personally handed to each respondent in each community. In pursuit of the last aim – to examine the levels of a sense of community in both gated and non-gated communities – questionnaires were personally handed to residents in six selected communities (three gated communities and three non-gated ones) that featured different levels of socio-economic status (low, medium and high).

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Residents were asked about their opinions regarding the sense of community in their community, using SCI-2 index as a research tool. In doing so, three gated communities already selected (as mentioned previously) were later being matched with three non-gated communities. The main considerations were their comparable level of socio-economic status and the number of houses in the community (see Table  5.4, below). The selection of three different socio-economic status non-gated communities was challenging, as the non-gated communities’ total area is considerably larger than that of gated communities, leading to a significant difference in the number of houses. In addition, it was difficult to differentiate the level of socio-economic status for non-gated communities, especially between medium and low ones. The difference between each community’s socio-economic status was therefore dependent mainly on the author’s own observation (i.e. the house’s immediate surroundings and its environment, as the more well-to-do inhabitants tend to look after their houses and areas better than the others). Unlike past research in the same field, this study did not utilize the postal service (Wilson-Doenges 2000; Atkinson et  al. 2004; Blandy 2006; Rogers and Sukolratanametee 2009; Sakip et al. 2012). Instead, the author went back to each community to collect the questionnaires herself, as this encourages residents to cooperate. So, at the time of distributing questionnaires each respondent was politely informed of the specific date and time it would be collected back.

Results Urban gating in Bangkok: number and location Despite the fact that gated communities have existed in Bangkok for a very long time, this form of private housing has enjoyed greater popularity in recent decades. According to the gated community definition proposed by Atkinson and Blandy (2005), the result shows that in 2013 there were 1,380 gated communities in Bangkok. Figure 5.2 (below) displays the number and distribution pattern of Bangkok’s gated communities by district, while Figure 5.3 (below) shows Bangkok’s population change by district from 2005–11. Considering both maps, it is apparent that gated communities have expanded outwards from the city centre, following the same pattern that city residents in general have spread outwards to the periphery. While central Bangkok is located on the east bank of Chao Phraya River, (coloured here in light grey, see Figure 5.2), the gated communities are generally located in the outer zone, contributing to the outflow of population from the inner area (see Figure 5.3). Two factors associated with gated communities’ distribution pattern are that of land value and its availability – since the further the area is from the centre, the cheaper the price of land. Figure 5.4 shows an example of a gated

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No. of Bangkok GCs by District 2013 0 1–10 11–30 31–50 51–70 71–100 101–130

FIGURE 5.2 Number of Bangkok GCs by district, 2013. Source: author (2014).

community surrounded by greenfield land on the outskirts of Bangkok; in fact, the majority of gated communities sit on land that once served agriculture before being bought up by the gated development companies. The majority of gated communities  – of all sizes and prices  – have dispersed in all directions towards the periphery in order to capture the escalating demand for gated communities across different market sectors. This distribution trend has changed the look of Bangkok’s outer areas as former agricultural land is put to residential and commercial use. It has also attracted the population to the outer zone, which, in turn, has increased car dependency and public expenditure on infrastructure investment.

Urban gating in Bangkok: the reasons The questionnaire contained a set of 15 potential reasons for moving into a gated community, and an open area for filling out other possible reasons. The questionnaire was distributed among three high socio-economic status gated communities, a medium socio-economic status one, and a low socio-economic status one (see response rate in Table 5.4). Figure 5.5 shows the questionnaire’s overall results,

Bangkok Population Change by District, Average % from 2005 to 2011 < –4.5% –4.5 to –3.01% –3.00 to –1.51% –1.50 to 0.00% 0.01 to 1.5% 1.51 to 3.00% 3.01 to 4.50% > 4.5%

FIGURE 5.3 Bangkok population change by district, average % (2005-11). Source: author (2013), data from Bangkok Metropolitan Administration (2011).

FIGURE 5.4 An example of a Bangkok GC, looking from the outside. Source: author (2014).

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while Table 5.2 principally displays the top three reasons for moving into a gated community. It is interesting to note that in a high socio-economic status gated community residents consider ‘worthiness compared to other communities’, ‘environment within a community’, and ‘gated community’s location’ as important factors. These choices register a substantially higher percentage score than the other two socio-economic groups. Some of the high socio-economic status gated community’s residents also mentioned the investment value as one of their key considerations when buying into a gated community; the investment reason was not mentioned at all in responses by lower- and middle-income residents of gated communities (see Table 5.3). Another point worth mentioning is the ‘housing price in a gated community’. While the low and medium socio-economic status gated communities consider price to be an important factor (with 82 per cent importance), the high socio-economic status group records only a 68 per cent importance. In addition, for a medium socio-economic status gated community, the ‘family members/friends living here/nearby’, ‘do not have to build a house myself ’, and ‘a place to start a new family’ reasons show higher percentages than those of the other two. And in a low socio-economic status gated community residents consider ‘shared facilities’ and ‘gated community’s location’ as less important reasons than those living in a high or medium socio-economic status gated community. Table  5.3 demonstrates this comparison of reasons between the three gated communities of differing levels of socio-economic status In summary, when results across all three socio-economic groups are taken together, the top three (average) reasons for moving into a Bangkok gated community are ‘environment within gated communities’, ‘security system within gated communities’, and ‘location of gated communities’. The least important reason is the resident’s ‘image in society’.

Urban gating in Bangkok: the sense of community in gated and non-gated communities Table 5.4 shows the response rate and general information about each community selected for the study. The low socio-economic status gated community recorded the highest percentage return rate (90 per cent), while the high socio-economic status group recorded the lowest percentage (51 per cent). So, the response rate appears lower when a gated community’s socio-economic status is higher; however, this pattern is not replicated within non-gated communities. Prior to the SCI-2 Index, the questionnaire asked each respondent an initial question regarding how important it was for them to feel a sense of community with other community members.The respondents’ answers are shown in Figure 5.6. The results suggest that the majority of community members feel that a sense of community with other community members is important; however, the answers of

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TABLE 5.2 Top three reasons for moving into gated communities categorized by different

level of socio-economic status

Security Environment Developer’s reputation Location

Low-SES GC

Medium-SES GC

High-SES GC

1 2 3 -

1 3 2

2 1 3

Source: author (2014).

TABLE 5.3 Reason comparison of three different levels of socio-economic status gated

communities

Worthiness Environment Location Investing value Price Family/friends live nearby Time-saving Start a new family Shared facilities

Low-SES GC

Medium-SES GC

High-SES GC

Less Less Less Equal Less

Less Less Less Equal More

More More More More Less Less

Less Less Less

More More More

Less Less Less

Source: author (2014).

TABLE 5.4 Communities’ response rate, number of houses, family members and household

income/month

High-SES GC High-SES non-GC Medium-SES GC Medium-SES non-GC Low-SES GC Low-SES non-GC Source: author (2014).

Response rate

Number of houses

Family members Household income/ (median) yr (median)

60% 51% 77% 69%

96 115 120 143

5 4 4 4.5

£72,000 £84,000 £48,000 £43,200

90% 54%

130 139

3 3

£24,000 £19,200

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Do not have to build a house myself Family members/Friends living here/nearby A place to start a new family Security system within a community Community’s location

Reasons

Shared facilities within a community Green space within a community Environment within a community The community’s image (looks privileged) House/Community’s layout Developer’s reputation Worthiness compared to other communities Housing price in a community Same level of SES as neighbour Your image in society 40

Low-SES GCs

50

60

70 80 Percentage

Medium-SES GCs

90

100

High-SES GCs

The reasons for moving into a gated community. Source: author (2014).

FIGURE 5.5

% 75 50 25 0 Prefer not to be part of this community H-SES GC

Not important at all

M-SES GC

Not very important

L-SES GC

Somewhat important

H-SES non-GC

Important

M-SES non-GC

Very important

L-SES non-GC

The importance of a sense of community with other community members. Source: author (2014).

FIGURE 5.6

the high socio-economic status gated community residents are more disparate than they are among other communities. As stated earlier SCI-2’s maximum score is 72 – which is derived from the 24 questions that are then categorised into four dimensions, each of which has a maximum score of 18 (i.e. 18 x 4 = 72 maximum; see Figure 5.7). Table 5.5 shows the overall SCI-2 score of the six communities studied. Considering the overall sense of community in each of the living environments (see Table 5.5), the result of the SCI-2 Index suggests that a medium socio-economic status non-gated community has the highest sense of community (67%), while the

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18 16 Integration

14

Membership

12 10

Influence

8

Shared emotional connection

6 4 2

N

on -G C

G C H A

H

A

ig hSE S

N

ig hSE S

on -G C

G C -S ES

A

M

A

M

ed iu m

ed iu m

-S ES

on -G C N

-S ES

Lo w A

A

Lo w

-S ES

G C

0

SCI-2 score classified by dimension. Source: author (2014).

FIGURE 5.7

TABLE 5.5 Overall sense of community in SCI-2 score and as a percentage

Type of community Socio-economic status

Gated communities

Non-gated communities

Low Medium High

29 (54%) 32 (59%) 29 (54%)

31 (57%) 36 (67%) 24 (44%)

Source: author (2014). TABLE 5.6 A comparison of case studies’ household income/yr between Wilson-Doenges

(2000) and the author (2014) Socio-economic status

Wilson-Doenges (2000)

The Author (2014)

High Medium Low

£43,200 £7,200

£78,000 £45,600 £21,600

Source: author (2014).

high socio-economic status non-gated community has the lowest sense of community (44 per cent). From Table 5.5 we can assess the average SCI-2 score of a gated community at 30, while that of a non-gated community is 30.33 – i.e there is an insignificant difference in the levels of a sense of community between a gated and non-gated environment.

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What is significantly different in the results is the SCI-2 Index scores from non-gated communities. Unlike gated communities, where SCI-2 scores are broadly similar across the different levels of socio-economic status, there is a significant variation among the scores of the non-gated communities. It is also interesting to note that while both low and medium socio-economic status gated communities have a lower level of sense of community than their respective non-gated counterparts, the sense of community in a high socio-economic status gated community is considerably higher than that to be found in a high socio-economic status non-gated community. This present study confirms the findings of Wilson-Doenges (2000). Table  5.6 shows a comparison of annual household income between Wilson-Doenges (2000)’s and the author’s (2014) case studies. Like that of Wilson-Doenges, this present study shows that there is an insignificant difference between a sense of community in the low socio-economic status gated and non-gated communities. In the medium socio-economic status, both studies also show that there is substantial difference between gated and non-gated communities. In a medium socio-economic status gated community, the sense of community is substantially lower than it is in its non-gated counterpart. What was not examined in Wilson-Doenges’s (2000) study was the high socio-economic status communities. Interestingly, this study shows a sharp contrast in the sense of community to be found in medium socio-economic status communities. My result also shows that the sense of community in a high socio-economic status gated community is significantly higher (10 per cent, numerically) than that found in the corresponding high socio-economic status non-gated community (see Table 5.5).

Conclusion Gated communities have long been established in Thailand. But despite the major upsurge in more recent times in the number of gated communities, until now there has been no study relating directly to the phenomenon and its consequences on society in terms of quality of life. Therefore, this study aims to reveal the wider context and implications of gated communities in Bangkok, and to discover their correlation with a sense of community. In doing so, the study employed satellite imaginaries and self-observation to investigate the number and location of gated communities in Bangkok as part of a process that began in May 2010 and ended in July 2013. Questionnaires were sent to three selected gated communities of different socio-economic status (low, medium, high), and asked residents their reasons for moving in. The study shows that in 2013 there were 1,380 gated communities in Bangkok, largely distributed in the outer zone of the city. The three main reasons given by Thais for moving into gated communities are ‘environment within gated communities’, ‘security system within gated communities’, and ‘location of gated communities’. For the study of the correlation of the sense of community between gated and non-gated communities, I selected six communities: three gated, three non-gated. The SCI-2 Index was adopted as a tool for assessing the sense of community in

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preference to the more typical Sense of Community Index (SCI) due to its greater credibility in the literature. The six communities selected were categorized into three different (i.e. high, medium and low) socio-economic statuses. The findings suggest that there is no significant difference in a sense of community between gated and non-gated communities, which reaffirms the research of Blakely and Snyder (1997). The result also confirms the study of Wilson-Doenges (2000) in that while the different sense of community felt by the low socio-economic gated and non-gated communities is largely insignificant, the sense of community in a medium socio-economic status non-gated community is significantly higher than it is in its corresponding gated community. The present study makes an extra contribution to the literature by examining the sense of community in high socio-economic status gated and non-gated communities. Interestingly, the result reveals a sharp reversal of the findings for the medium socio-economic status group – the sense of community in high socio-economic status gated communites is in fact significantly higher than it is in the corresponding non-gated ones (see Table 5.5), a complete reversal. In fact, the overall correlation between gated communities and non-gated ones – with regard to a sense of community – is unexpected, and rather surprising. While the majority of past research has suggested that gated communities have had a profound impact upon a deteriorating overall sense of community, which in turn degrades citizens’ quality of life, my study suggests that this may not actually be the case in Thailand. The SCI-2 score for a sense of community within a gated and a non-gated community shows an insignificant difference. Surprisingly, it is actually the different level of socio-economic status, especially in non-gated communities, that plays the major part in accounting for differences in the sense of community within each community. Gated communities in Thailand, and especially in Bangkok, have become one of the defining features of the Thai urban layout, contributing to the new landscape of the city. This form of private housing has transformed the local grid system under which inhabitants were socially and economically mixed, into a more island-like form where only those who share the same level of socio-economic status live together. The concentration of gated community developments in the outer ring of a city also plays a key role in drawing the inner city population to more outlying districts. Increasingly, gated communities have become a mainstream housing trend in Bangkok, attracting homebuyers across all market sectors. This network, created by gated communities, has led to both positive and negative influences on the city. The existence of gated communities has had a direct impact upon the availability of agricultural land and green space – which has had a detrimental effect upon the environmental quality of Bangkok. Also, since gated communities are normally located in the outer ring of the city, where public transportation is generally inadequate, it is important for the gated inhabitant to own a car. According to the author’s own observation, each home in the three selected gated communities has at least two vehicles; if the occupant does not drive, then a taxi service is necessary.This dispersal to the periphery has increased car dependency

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and car ownership in a city where traffic jams are already present a major problem. For this reason gated communities have indirectly burdened the public purse in terms of the infrastructure, especially roads, that are needed to service the new developments. That said, the presence of gated communities has contributed to a dramatic increase in land value at the periphery. This has contributed to a better redistribution of income among the area’s original inhabitants – who are mostly the poor. There are also many new cafés, restaurants and commercial sites around gated communities, which has served to create liveable areas where gated and local residents are able to have social interaction, and a better quality of life. In addition, municipal governments have benefited from higher tax revenues from gated residents, which has helped strengthen their power to control and managing the areas concerned. Last, it is worth raising the question that while there is no significant difference in the sense of community felt by gated and non-gated communities, is it reasonable to continue developing gated communities without any specific planning regulation? Is it reasonable to pursue the growth of this type of private housing when its layout intensifies spatial segregation in an already-divided city? Future research may consider an in-depth investigation of the effects of gated communities on their immediate neighbourhoods, the difference in crime levels and ‘fear of crime’ between gated and non-gated communities, the influence of gated communities on municipal governments (and vice versa), and the consequences of ‘gating’ in terms of its impact on the environment and the agricultural industry.

References Abdullah, A., Salleh, M. N.  M. and Sakip, S. R.  M. (2012) ‘Fear of crime in gated and non-gated residential areas’ in Social and Behavioural Science, vol. 35: 63–9 Atkinson, R. and Blandy, S. (2005) ‘Introduction:  International perspective on the new enclavism and the rise of gated communities’ in Housing Studies, vol. 20, no. 2: 177–86 Atkinson, R., Blandy, S., Flint, J. and Lister, D. (2004) Gated communities in England. London: Office of the Deputy Prime Minister Bagaeen, S. and Uduku, O. (eds) (2010) Gated communities: Social sustainability in contemporary and historical gated developments. London: Earthscan Bangkok Metropolitan Administration (2011) Area, population, density and houses in Bangkok Metropolis by districts:  2011. Available at:  http://office.bangkok.go.th/ pipd/05_Stat/08Stat%28En%29/Stat%28En%2954/pdf%20%28no t%20edit%29/stat_ eng2011%20%28not%20edit%29.pdf (accessed 6 October 2013) Blakely, E. and Snyder, M. G. (1997) Fortress America. Washington, DC: Brookings Institute Blamley, G., Dempsey, N., Power, S. and Brown, C. (2006) ‘What is “social sustainability”, and how do our existing urban forms perform in nurturing it?’ Paper presented at the Planning Research Conference, Bartlett School of Planning, University College London Blandy, S. (2006) ‘Gated communities in England: Historical perspectives and current developments in GeoJournal, vol. 66: 15–26 Brodsky, A. E., O’Campo, P. J. and Aronson, R. E. (1999) ‘Psychological sense of community in community context: Multilevel correlates of a measure of psychological sense of

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6 GATING IN URBAN IRELAND Therese Kenna, Denis Linehan, William Brady and Jonathan Hall

Urban gating: the new debates and directions Urban scholars have long seen the inherent problems and injustices in the overt attempts to privatise and gate the city through large-scale private development projects and residential gated communities (see Blakely and Snyder 1997; Glasze et al. 2006). However, a focus on gating and closures in the city beyond these more obvious examples allows for the messiness and contradictions of the process of urban gating to come to the fore (see Sassen 2010). Following this observation made by Sassen (2010), we suggest that whilst a focus on large-scale gated residential communities remains a key issue, research into the small-scale, incremental shifts in policy and practice that has reduced urban accessibility, intensified urban marginality and increased the securitisation of public space, remains a vital area of investigation. Consequently, consideration of the loss and policing of more mundane, quotidian public spaces though the use of fences, walls and gates, and the implications this has for the quality of neighbourhood life and the urban experience of marginalised individuals, offers ongoing critical insights into the urban process of gating. The gating of some of the more everyday spaces of the city also works to demonstrate how the process of gating is implicated in an array of power struggles which impact on social relations, as we explore in later on in the chapter. By collecting evidence of a new form of gating which is distributed throughout the Irish city, rather than concentrated in specific or new urban residential developments, this chapter seeks to offer an alternative perspective on the urban gating phenomenon in Irish cities. We also report on the forms of urban governance that precipitate the rise of urban gating in Ireland. In this chapter we critique the ways in which local elected city councillors have been heavily involved in closing hundreds of public laneways in Irish cities over a ten-year period. As we will show, these closures are delinked from traditional planning instruments and procedures. Rather,

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they are politically motivated interventions  – in response to underlying urban social problems – that have been misrepresented in the context of an urban governance regime in Ireland dominated by neo-liberalism and conservative ‘tough on crime’ discourses. In particular, they have been driven by a powerful set of propositions propagated by the media – and national and local politicians – that have characterised the city as being under siege from ‘anti-social behaviour’ which has been variously described as being out of control and has devastating impacts upon community life. After a decade of use, these gated closures have left a negative mark on the Irish cities of Dublin and Cork, in particular, in the form of unsightly, obtrusive gates and barriers that lead to the legal extinguishment of established rights of way in the lanes they block, and in some cases destroy. These gated closures take precedence over other possible solutions to anti-social behaviour, which highlights the power and dominance that gating as an idea has over the city. Gating is seen as a solution to social problems. The gates in Cork city are the unappealing legacy of what has proved to be an ineffective attempt to deal with low-level crime and the (mis)use of public space by increasingly marginalised urban citizens – namely disadvantaged teenagers and youths, the homeless and drug addicts. Moreover, this new array of gates, built into the urban fabric, often contradicts urban planning objectives which seek to enhance local accessibility, neighbourhood permeability and the promotion of walking as a mode of transport and as means to enhance community life – further impairing the neighbourhoods in which, over time, these gates cluster. Again, this highlights the power that gates hold in both popular discourse and planning and urban development practice – i.e. that gating is the solution and saviour to urban social problems. Research on the discourse of anti-social behaviour has made important observations on the apparent rise of anti-social behaviour and direct transformations of the use of public space, and the securitisation of the built environment (Mitchell 2003). In line with the work of Mitchell (2003), we argue that it is not any discernible rise in crime that is the significant driver of the loss of these laneways in the Irish city. Rather, it is the development and instrumentalisation of ‘anti-social behaviour’ as a new urban discourse, and as a basis for legal intervention, which has allowed the issue to become the intense focus of different actors and state agencies – expanding in the process the action against apparently unruly individuals and spaces. Addressing this phenomenon of what is widely understood as ‘net widening’, Flint and Nixon (2006) have argued that instruments like anti-social behaviour orders ‘enable a more intensive monitoring of a wider range of public and private behaviours’. Similarly, Beckett and Herbert (2008:  5)  note that ‘these new legal instruments increase the number of behaviours and people defined as criminal and subject to formal social control’. In light of the international experience, it is clear that the very term ‘anti-social behaviour’ has become what Fraser and Gordon (1994) term a ‘keyword’ for social thinking, one which has shaped the modes and means through with urban social problems are addressed – becoming in the process an irrefutable social category, and a vector along which interventions are pursued:

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The terms that are used to describe social life are also active forces in shaping it. A crucial element of politics, then, is the struggle to define social reality and to interpret people’s inchoate aspirations and needs. Particular words and expressions often become focal in such struggles, functioning as keywords, sites at which the meaning of social experience is negotiated and contested. Keywords typically carry unspoken assumptions and connotations that can powerfully influence the discourses they permeate – in part by constituting a body of data, or taken for-granted common sense belief that escapes critical scrutiny. (Fraser and Gordon 1994: 26) In what can be called the ‘anti-social behaviours movement’, a sophisticated range of laws and interventions have targeted the most socially excluded individuals and enabled the police to move people from the streets and other public spaces. For instance, in line with the experience found internationally, Ireland’s Criminal Justice (Public Order) Act 2011 prohibited begging near ATMs and shops. In Ireland, anti-social behaviour was first closely associated with drug-dealing, but expanded progressively to encompass very low-level crime, and arguably normal social behaviour such as street football, congregations and play. Deploying ‘anti-social’ concepts has become so prevalent that it is not just the monopoly of politicians; it has become embedded in urban institutions such as schools, community development programmes, policing, housing services, resident associations and youth work. Hence, in the last decade in Ireland, no domain of urban life that sought to address social problems fell outside its framework. An increasing range of techniques, such as government reports, laws and media reporting, have meant that anti-social behaviour is rarely out of the public eye. Consequently, a range of organisations, institutions and political entities have absorbed the right to defend the city against practices and groups deemed as ‘anti-social’. Several major crime surveys, such as the first Dublin Crime Commission held in 2005, have helped to construct anti-social behaviour as an endemic urban problem in the Irish city. In 2005 the then Lord Mayor of Dublin said: People want to see Gardai [police] on the beat. They want to hear their feet on the streets, not their sirens as they speed past in cars with flashing lights. They want more judges in the District Court so that all low level crime, disorder and anti-social behaviour cases are dealt with – and speedily.They want the local authorities, the Gardaí, the Courts, health and education services to work together to target and reduce unacceptable behaviour like public drinking and drug taking, late night noise and other intimidating anti-social behaviour that affects so many communities in the city. (Commission on Crime and Policing 2005) These discourses often mobilise the language of defence to legitimate a host of revanchist strategies that have accelerated the securitisation of public space (see

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Smith 1996), and, we argue, created the political context for the increase in gated closures of urban laneways in Ireland. This language holds power over all other voices or positions in relation to the closure of neighbourhood laneways in Ireland. The decision to close a laneway is essentially a local one, which we will discuss in more detail below; but the national context which legitimates intervention to identify and address anti-social behaviour is constantly reaffirmed. This also shows the power imbued in these discourses, such that they take precedence over other ideas of social inclusion and essentially undermine ‘cityness’ (Sassen 2013)  – the difference and diversity that are characteristic features of urban life. Anti-social behaviour has taken on a legal form via a series of pieces of legislation – beginning with the development of new instruments to address disruptive local authority tenants, or tenants engaged in drug-dealing, under the rubric of Estate Management in Ireland’s Housing (Miscellaneous Provisions) Act 1997. As the term ‘anti-social behaviour’ has taken hold in both the public imagination and the policy arena, the movement finds legal expression in a range of areas with direct connections to the identification, representation and management of urban social problems. Arrayed across policing, social work, community development and housing management, these contexts construct anti-social behaviour as a coherent social force with well-defined forms. Framing the uses made of these laneways in terms of public order and nuisance (as discussed below) negates the issue of the needs and rights of the city’s other citizens. In suburban areas, and notably in disadvantaged urban neighbourhoods, the negative characterisation of the ways that young people make use of urban space and laneways is a good example of the cynical outcomes created by the anti-social behaviour movement. It has long been recognised that the streets can present opportunities for self-expression for young people that are beyond the comprehension of the adult gaze. The streets can often become spaces where young people ‘devoid of other meeting places retain some autonomy over space […] the street constitutes an important cultural setting where they can affirm their own identity and celebrate their feeling of belonging’ (Matthews et al. 2000: 281). It is clearly the case, however, that the amount of public space available to young people – whose very presence is perceived as, and acted upon, as if it is unruly and unacceptable – is shrinking. With the rising influence of revanchist urban policies and thought, the disadvantaged youth of Ireland find their mobility and presence in public space increasingly subject to regulation, by mechanisms such as CCTV, dedicated policing, the securitisation of community spaces, and the net-widening of youth crime interventions. More and more young people in deprived urban areas are being pulled into quasi-youth work programmes that are intended to reprogramme unruly behaviour. Local authorities in Ireland are now legally obliged by the Housing (Miscellaneous Provisions) Act 2009 to publish anti-social behaviour strategies and instruct their different service departments to collaborate on polices to identify and prevent this crime (see, for example, the Lord Mayor’s Commission on Anti-Social Behaviour 2012). The Garda Síochána Act 2005 provides for the introduction of Joint Policing Committees and Local Policing Committees, which in spite of their mixed success

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offer a mechanism for the public, police and city councils to meet and address local crime issues, and as such ‘speak’ anti-social behaviour into existence. These policing interventions have such strong political appeal that Ireland’s Department of Justice and Equality’s Strategy Statement 2011–14 reaffirms its commitment to develop community policing as a means of addressing anti-social behaviour and low-level crime. Additionally, in Dublin in particular, the role of the Business Improvement District Company has accelerated the closure and gating of laneways in the inner city, many of which are regarded by this organisation as a public nuisance. Such laneways are constantly depicted as dangerous and risky places to go. As noted by Ward (2010:  1177), ‘Business Improvement Districts  – charged with managing “micro” urban territories aim to strictly choreograph the spatial practices of citizens to facilitate a “favourable business climate”’. In Dublin, the privatisation of public space that intersects these laneways is taken to such an extreme that many laneways are currently monitored and cleaned not by the City Council, but under a private contract controlled by a global urban service provider: the Aramark Corporation. Taken together, this assemblage of organisations, laws and political interventions makes anti-social behaviour in Ireland a very powerful mode of producing urban space, which ironically results in the destruction and gating of laneways. As we will demonstrate throughout this chapter, this highlights the power that gating holds as a solution to social issues such as anti-social behaviour.

Urban gating: the structures and processes The neighbourhood laneways that form the focus of this chapter are officially referred to as ‘public rights of way’. A  public right of way is a person’s right of passage along a road or pathway. It has some form of legal or quasi-legal meaning and protection. Section 73 of Ireland’s Roads Act (1993) provides the power, and prescribes the process, to extinguish these public rights of way. Gating a laneway involves a four-part process whereby city councillors are approached  – in most cases by local residents living in close proximity to the laneway concerned  – to notify them of any social or other issues connected to them. The councillor then formally proposes the closure of the laneway and formal notices announcing the potential closure are published in a newspaper and erected at the site of the laneway. This is followed by formal consideration at committee level by the local authority, and a decision is made to either approve or refuse the proposed closure. The actual closure, if approved, is then formally advertised. Once closure is carried out the local authority has little or no ongoing maintenance responsibilities for the land in question since the space has now effectively become private. The legislation does not prescribe any criteria against which to assess the appropriateness or impact of a closure; and it does not include any formal assessment of the implications of the proposed closure in respect of existing planning policies as set out in the city’s development plan. However, it does include a general requirement that ‘it shall be a function of a local authority to protect the right of the public to use public rights of way

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in its administrative area’ (Roads Act 1993; emphasis added). Making decisions on the future of public rights of way is one of the few powers that are reserved for city councillors. This power in relation to gating and closing urban laneways should not be understated. Little information is provided to city councillors to help them assess the value and importance of the public laneways being considered. As a result, the wider implications of closure are not fully assessed. Information about the reasons for the closure are also not provided in full (discussed below): closure triumphs over consideration of keeping laneways open and public. Again, the power imbued in the symbol and physical presence of the ‘gate’ comes to the fore. The power to extinguish public rights of way has existed for many years. However, the power to preserve these is more recent, having been established in the Planning and Development Act (2000). Although there are now statutory powers and duties in place to preserve rights of way, the power of extinguishment remains the most popular way in which the powers over rights of way are exercised. This is the result of two situations. First, attempts in Ireland to address anti-social behaviour would seem to take precedence over other urban policy objectives (e.g. protecting public space, promoting permeability and walkability). Second, councillors exercise their discretionary powers to close and gate laneways as a way of winning votes. The dominance of policies and governance strategies aimed at tackling anti-social behaviour is leading to the gated closure of urban laneways in preference to any other alternative solutions. There is clearly an imbalance in this process, whereupon private concerns outweigh the interests of the common good.

Research methodology In an attempt to understand the new geographies of urban gating in Irish cities, we embarked on a nationwide survey of closures of public rights of way in urban centres in the Republic of Ireland. The research focused on the city council areas of Cork, Limerick, Galway, Waterford and Dublin, as well as the wider Dublin Metropolitan Region (including Dun Laoghaire-Rathdown, Fingal and South Dublin). The study focused on extinguishments of rights of way occurring in the aforementioned urban centres in the period 2000–11. While undertaking the research it emerged that there is no formal record kept by any of the councils involved in this study concerning the number of public right of way extinguishments that have taken place during the timeframe of this study; nor indeed prior to the year 2000. Essentially, there is a total absence of any documention or record of the number of extinguishments of public rights of way in urban Ireland. The data on rights of way closures is only available within the minutes of the local council meetings at which such decisions are made. Thus, our research required analysis of 192 council documents (minutes of council meetings) from the period 2000–11. The minutes of these meetings also contained information relating to the reasons behind the closure of these rights of way. These reasons were also documented and analysed.

Source: Authors’ compilation.

Cork City Galway City Limerick City Waterford City Dublin City Dun Laoghaire-Rathdown Fingal South Dublin Total/ year

3 2 – 0 20 1

10 0 36

11 14 65

2001

1 0 4 0 33 2

2000

11 4 33

3 0 6 0 9 0

2002

4 6 76

8 12 1 2 42 1

2003

4 11 52

10 0 0 3 23 1

2004

TABLE 6.1 Total closures of public rights of way/year for each urban council area

4 1 65

11 2 3 0 41 3

2005

12 4 60

11 1 4 2 18 8

2006

6 8 61

9 2 2 0 17 17

2007

1 4 44

13 2 1 0 22 1

2008

2 4 35

8 1 2 0 16 2

2009

4 5 29

1 4 1 1 13 0

2010

3 3 20

0 1 0 0 6 7

2011

72 64 576

78 27 24 8 260 43

Total

FIGURE 6.1 Restricted vehicle access, Cork city, 2011. Source: Denis Linehan.

FIGURE 6.2 Gated laneway closure, Cork city, 2011. Source: Therese Kenna.

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New geographies of urban gating The compiled data on extinguished public rights of way showed a total of 576 closures across the urban centres we studied in Ireland during the period of 2000–11. Based on the data, an average of 50 extinguishments were approved each year across Irish cities (see Table 6.1). Three main reasons for closure were indentified. The first type of closure is related to development (e.g. a new apartment complex), which often results in the total disappearance or erasure of the laneway or public right of way. Second, there is closure of laneways that restricts vehicle access to deter cars from nearby residential areas (see Figure  6.1). Finally, and most importantly, the main type of closure of a public right of way is one that restricts pedestrian access to deter congregation in the area concerned. This involves the boarding up or gating of a pedestrian laneway (see Figure 6.2). Gated laneways, or closed off pedestrian access, are the dominant types of closure and account for nearly 80 per cent of all closures (see below). Data pertaining to the reasons for the closure of public rights of way was also examined. Of the 576 total extinguishments there was data on the reasons for the closure of 246 of them (43 per cent). In the remaining cases no reason was provided. This, in itself, is troubling, since it shows a lack of reporting about the closures; and in some instances a lack of evidence to support the closure. Councillors are making decisions about closures in the absence of full information. Of these 246 laneways, 195 (79 per cent) were closed for reasons of ‘anti-social behaviour’. A further 11 per cent were for reasons of development, and the remaining 10 per cent were for a range of ‘other’ reasons such as deterring vehicles from a particular street or residential area. As noted above, the minutes of council meetings are the sole location for information on extinguishments of rights of way – both proposals and decisions to extinguish, or otherwise. The quotes below are taken from the minutes of a Cork City Council meeting on 12 January 2004: That this Council agrees that the laneway from the North Main Street to Peters Church Avenue be permanently sealed off, this laneway is attracting serious anti-social behaviour to the detriment of the residents. (Proposer: Seanoir Con O’ Connell 03/352; emphasis added) That this Council agrees that the alleyway connecting Connolly Place and The Green, Tramore Road be blocked off , this alleyway has attracted serious and ongoing anti-social behaviour drinking parties etc. for many years. (Proposer: Ald. C. O’Connell 03/353; emphasis added) These quotes are indicative of the information minuted for each decision to close and gate an urban laneway. The quotes offer very limited information about the full reasons for the closure and there is no formal requirement to provide evidence supporting such claims. The form of anti-social behaviour at issue is not specified, nor is its frequency. No record or log of incidents is provided or made available as part of the decision to close a public right of way.

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The data suggests that the trend is one that sees the closure of neighbourhood laneways for reasons of anti-social behaviour, and that it is driven by local residents and city councillors. Local residents of a neighbourhood space lobby their elected member and essentially claim public urban space as their own through gating the space or denying public access to it entirely through full closure of the site. In either case, local residents, with the backing of elected officials, are encouraging private spaces and a reduction of urban public space. These findings depart from the traditional literature on gated communities. While residents in traditional gated communities opt into these spaces – and the form of living that it offers – they do not actively create the private space: that is done for them by the developers (see Glasze et al. 2006). In the Irish context of public rights of way closures, local residents are actively arguing for private and gated spaces. As discussed earlier, the popularisation of anti-social behaviour discourses in Ireland has driven the closures of these laneways. Initiatives in Irish cities encourage community policing and inspire local residents to take charge of the issues of anti-social behaviour that are directly affecting their neighbourhoods; and motivate them to lobby their local politicians to address these issues on their behalf. Given the power that councillors have to make these decisions, and together with their interest in being re-elected, we see gated closures of laneways taking place as a first option. This is a critical point which demonstrates power imbalances in relation to the gating of urban spaces in Ireland. Residents with access to those in powerful positions are able to encourage the erection of gates as this is seen to be the best way of addressing anti-social behaviour. The young and other minority groups who predominantly use the spaces concerned find themselves excluded without consideration or consultation. In some instances, such as those reflected in the quotations above, a closed or gated laneway is a one-off closure; but in other cases there are a series of interconnected closures in a local area. Gated laneways are clustered in certain areas of the city.We use one such example from Cork city to illustrate our point. Figure 6.3 and Figure 6.4 show a map and photographs of three interconnected gates that were erected to close off an entire residential area of Cork city. The following quote is taken from the minutes of a Cork City Council meeting on 12 January 2004, at which the decision to make the area private was documented. The council noted: That Cork City Council would put gates in place at Rock Steps off Blarney Street and at the North Mall end to make the area safe for the Residents. (Proposer: Comhairleoir C. Clancy, Ref. 03/265) As with the similar earlier quotes, no detailed information is provided regarding the reason for the closure, or of the precise kinds of activity that were making the area ‘unsafe’. In this case, making the area ‘safe’ refers to safety from low-level crime (broadly defined); hence, gating the area reduces the likelihood of further unsafe or unruly acts. Here, as with the other examples above, no information is given about the detail of the safety concerns or of the number of incidents that might be occurring, or their frequency. This is a prime example of the ways in which ‘keywords’ (see Fraser and Gordon 1994), when they continue to circulate,

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FIGURE  6.3 Location map of three interconnected gates that have privatised and closed off a residential area of Cork city. Source: Authors’ compilation.

become powerful terms, notions and ideas that dominate the public discourse. By becoming dominant, such keywords are accepted in their own right and without the need for detailed definition. Hence we see the gating of laneways (rather than their preservation) due to the popularity, acceptance and dominance of keywords such as ‘anti-social behaviour’, alongside the notion of making cities ‘safe’. The power of the symbol of the gate in the public mind is such that it is seen to address all of the city’s social problems – erecting gates becomes a first option. The result of this is an overall reduction in the difference and diversity of urban life. The act of gating excludes certain groups and types of behaviour from public spaces, thus reducing the diversity that should be so inherent in city life (see Sassen 2013). Many of the laneways that have been gated or closed off are pedestrian laneways – no vehicles pass through the area. These laneways have a historical significance for Irish cities and add to the urban aesthetic. In Cork’s inner city, for instance, its morphology and urban character is derived from a distinctive combination of its topography, built form and diverse architectural heritage, and the pattern of street and laneway layouts is an important part of that character. Changing the accessibility profile of these areas through laneway closures therefore has a significant impact upon the distinctive nature of the urban landscape. The closure of these laneways not only alters the physical appearance and aesthetics of a place, it also alters public access and mobility within the area concerned as well as in surrounding locations. Such closures can result in longer journey times and significant inconvenience as pedestrians are forced on to what can be less attractive, more circuitous main road

Images of three gates erected in the North Mall residential area of Cork city, mapped in Figure 6.3. Source: Therese Kenna. FIGURE  6.4

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environments. These closed spaces, without vehicle access, make for more pleasant and safer pedestrian journeys through the city. However, wider considerations in support of keeping them open are rarely taken into account because the anti-social behaviour discourse dominates all others.

Networks of power and social relations The closure of urban laneways should be situated within a much wider context of city planning. The process through which these closures take place results in this wider context failing to be recognised. There are a series of implications that need reflection. We would argue that one of the main issues with the extinguishment of public rights of way in Ireland is that the gates and closures are being presented as the first and only option. The fact that gates hold such power is a very worrying trend for Irish cities. As discussed earlier, anti-social behaviour is a loose term that is being applied to any form of social activity that is deemed inappropriate. The issue in Ireland is that when a ‘problem’ laneway presents itself, it is closed off or gated as the first option. This should not be accepted. No wider impact assessment is taking place to consider alternative options. For example, if an area was unsafe or allowing people to congregate in an anti-social manner, could new lighting be installed or trees cut back regularly to open up the space and deter such congregations? We could argue for or against any of these different approaches, but no alternative approaches are considered. Questions such as what else could be done to preserve the public spaces of the city need consideration. Questions also need to be asked as to why alternative options are not being considered. The power of councillors to make these decisions drives the outcomes. Due to a lack of consideration about the wider urban context in which these closures are taking place, there is a mismatch in urban policies in Irish cities that sees policy objectives running parallel. The powerful image that gating holds as a solution to urban social problems sees gating take priority over other initiatives to address social issues such as anti-social behaviour. These closures of urban laneways go against current city planning visions and agendas aimed at improving the walkability of urban areas to promote connectivity, accessibility and public health generally. Strategic planning documents, not least those developed for Irish cities, espouse the virtues of social inclusion and integration, of greater mobility and accessibility, and a quality built environment and the planning of quality public spaces (see Pinder 2006; Cork City Council 2009). As such, the need for accessible public spaces that encourage, not discourage, walking in the city, is a necessity for these planning objectives to be met. The closure or gating of public laneways in the inner city runs counter to these objectives. Again, the powerful view of gating, and the power of the anti-social behaviour discourse, takes a higher priority than broader goals for social inclusion across the city. The closure of pedestrian laneways in Irish cities also impacts on walkability for those within the surrounding local areas. As noted above, pedestrians are often diverted through lengthy alternative routes, and are forced to

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use less attractive and less convenient main roads, thus detracting from the pedestrian experience. Visually, too, the gates and closures (as illustrated in Figure 6.2) are a harsh addition to the urban realm. They do not blend with the surrounding built environment. It is these much wider planning concerns that are being ignored in the process of gating public laneways. This is occurring, we would argue, due to the powerful dominance of anti-social behaviour orders and governance strategies to address social behaviour in Irish cities – which works to accommodate a small number of residents in a local area and not the wider urban population. The more powerful and affluent groups in Irish cities usurp the less powerful when it comes to the issue of gated laneway closures. These two policy strands run parallel in the context of gated laneways since addressing issues of anti-social behaviour is given priority in relation to other urban policies concerning walkability, the positive use of public space and social inclusion.

Conclusions: the future of urban gating The sheer scale of gated closures of public laneways in Irish cities is significant. Nearly 600 closures of city laneways took place over a ten-year period in Ireland. Very little attention has been directed towards this trend  – which is passing more-or-less unnoticed, and certainly undocumented. There is no framework in place for approving and reviewing proposed gates for urban laneways and this needs urgent attention and review. Decisions are also being made without detailed information that justifies the closure, although broad references to ‘anti-social behaviour’ are deemed adequate enough to approve the gated closure of a laneway. There needs to be a formal record of these extinguishments so councils can keep track of the number of closures in an attempt to minimise the numbers being approved. City councils are not considering the wider impacts of these one-off closures, or even a series of interconnected closures, especially when, by law, it is the responsibility of local authorities in Ireland to protect the public’s right to access these laneways. These closures may sufficiently address an issue for a handful of residents, but the ramifications include, for example, reduced mobility for a wider group of people who may have used this laneway to walk home from the inner city, not to mention the exclusion of people from public spaces. The study also highlights the need to continue to develop the everyday, small-scale and perhaps even mundane spaces of our cities. Urban scholars can see the inherent problems and injustices in the overt attempts to privatise and gate the city through large-scale private development projects and large-scale gated communities. A  focus on gating and closures in the city beyond these more obvious examples allows for the messiness and contradictions inherent in the process of urban gating to come to the fore (following Sassen 2010: 160). Indeed, as is the case in Ireland, we have seen seemingly ‘public’ offi cials actively encouraging the creation of private and gated spaces within the city through the

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very loose application of the increasingly powerful term ‘anti-social behaviour’. Subsequently, what this gating of urban laneways also creates is a reduction in the diversity of city life within public spaces. One of the fl agship pillars of cities is their very diversity, and the ability to accommodate that diversity. Indeed, most cities market and pride themselves on their diversity. Gating residential laneways only serves to reduce the inclusion of different groups in the city, as well as erode social diversity in public spaces. The closure of a single laneway may appear innocent enough – indeed many pass entirely unnoticed – but in Ireland one has turned into 600, and this has had a considerable impact on the aesthetics of the city, on the experience of mobility throughout the city, and on the amount of open public space that is available. It has also served to exclude people from using these spaces. In summary, there are major ramifications for equality in Irish cities, and in particular upon social justice for young people. There is a continued need to be critical of the underlying social relations and power imbalances in cities that are mobilised to encourage privatisation and gating of urban spaces – including the prevalent anti-social discourses that assist in generating social inequities via the gating of urban space.

References Beckett, K. and Herbert, S. (2008) ‘Dealing with disorder: Social control in the post-industrial city’ in Theoretical Criminology, vol. 12, no. 1: 5–30 Blakely, E. J. and Snyder, M. G. (1997) Fortress America – Gated Communities in the United States. Washington, DC.: Brooking Institution Press Commission on Crime and Policing (2005) ‘Dublin Lord Mayor’s Commission on Crime and Policing Wants Reforms in Community Policing’, 7 February, Dublin, Ireland. Available at:  http://www.irishpressreleases.ie/2005/02/07/ dublin-lord-mayors-commission-on-cr ime-and-policing-wants-refor ms-incommunity-policing/ (accessed 9 October 2013) Cork City Council (2009) City Development Plan 2009–2015. Cork City Council. Flint, J. and Nixon, J. (2006) ‘Governing neighbours: Anti-social behaviour orders and new forms of regulating conduct in the UK’ in Urban Studies, vol. 43, no. 5–6): 939–55 Fraser, N. and Gordon, L. (1994) ‘A Genealogy of Dependency: Tracing a Keyword of the U.S. Welfare State’ in Signs, vol. 19, no. 2: 309–36 Glasze, G., Webster, C. and Frantz, K. (eds) (2006) Private Cities: Global and local perspectives. Oxon: Routledge Lord Mayor’s Commission on Antisocial Behaviour (2012) Lord Mayor’s Commission on Antisocial Behaviour. Dublin: Dublin City Council. Matthews H., Taylor, M. and Percy-Smith, B. (2000) ‘The Unacceptable Flaneur:  The Shopping Mall as a Teenage Hangout’ in Childhood, vol. 7, no. 3: 279–94 Mitchell, D. (2003) The Right to the City:  Social Justice and the Fight for Public Space. New York: The Guildford Press O’Sullivan, E. (2007) ‘Criminalising People who are Homeless?’ (FEANTSA Magazine, Summer 2007: 11–13). Available at:  (accessed 29 September 2007)

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Pinder, D. (2006) Visions of the City:  Utopianism, Power and Politics in Twentieth Century Urbanism. New York: Routledge Sassen, S. (2010) ‘Global inter-city networks and commodity chains: any intersections?’ in Global Networks, vol. 10, no. 1: 150–63 Sassen, S. (2013) ‘Keynote address’, 7th International Conference on gated communities and private urban governance, 26–28 June, Brighton, UK. Smith, N. (1996) The New Urban Frontier:  Gentrification and the Revanchist City. New York: Routledge Ward, K. (2010) ‘Entrepreneurial Urbanism and Business Improvement Districts in the State of Wisconsin: a cosmopolitan critique’ in Annals of the Association of American Geographers, vol. 100, no. 5: 1177–96

7 GATING IN THE WESTERN CAPE, SOUTH AFRICA Post-apartheid planning and environmental agency Manfred Spocter

Urban gating: the new debates City landscapes are changing. Gated developments are mushrooming in cities around the world and they are altering the way cities are administratively, socially, politically and economically organised (Roitman and Phelps 2011; Chipkin 2013). The contemporary South African urban and rural spatial form has moved away from a legally enforced race-based segregation to one displaying a class-based segregation (Donaldson 2009). Residential gated developments have become an omnipresent feature of the South African urbanscape. Driven by various actors and agents in the private and public domains, these gated developments have expanded their spatial manifestation beyond South Africa’s metropolitan areas. Forces of commodification and consumption have resulted in the transplantation of the metropolitan phenomenon of residential gated developments, onto the non-metropolitan landscape of the Western Cape Province in South Africa: this transplantation of an urban residential commodity into a rural locale leads to a commodification of the rural lifestyle – the consumption of an urban residential commodity in rural space. Consumptive urban lifestyles brought about by incoming urbanites are transforming rural landscapes into sites of consumption, driven by tourism and leisure activities (Hoogendoorn et al. 2008). In this study, the politico-administrative term ‘non-metropolitan’ includes all the towns in the Western Cape irrespective of population size and density, level of urban function and level of main economic sector. The problem with defining ‘rural’ lies in the intermingling of urban and rural functions across space. Static borders of designated space are not viable given the cross-cutting and integrated nature of rural and urban functions. All settlements undergo temporal changes in size, extent and nature, and this has blurred the urban-rural difference with one-dimensional classifications of settlements being brought into question (Champion and Hugo 2005). In the United Kingdom, the concept of ‘rural’ is largely viewed as land-based

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production or extraction, be it animal, vegetable or mineral, and where the lives of people are intertwined with these activities (Halfacree 2006). However, these activities are present in urban areas too (Battersby and Marshak 2013). One can argue that metropolitan areas receive the bulk of their resources from outside their borders, while the bulk of non-metropolitan resources tend to be sourced locally. However, with all-reaching modern resource distribution systems, the same products are available in both metropolitan areas and non-metropolitan ones. Moreover, Brown and Cromartie (2005) believe that a multidimensional concept of rurality should include social, economic and demographic variables. Various South African studies link the concept of ‘rural’ to population-based definitions.The Centre for Development and Enterprise (1996) recognises small towns (in rural areas) as having fewer than 50,000 persons. The CSIR (1999) recognised six settlement types; this typology, based on population size and location, classifies small towns as rural settlements with a population of less than 50,000 inhabitants. Statistics South Africa (2003) cites the Municipal Demarcation Board which notes that neither the Constitution (Act 108 of 1996) nor the Municipal Structures Act (Act 117 of 1998)  define the concepts of ‘urban’ and ‘rural’. Consequently, there is no agreed, robust and clear definition of ‘rural’ in South Africa (Ministry of Rural Development and Land Reform 2009). This situation results in ‘the term [being] used loosely for different purposes and this causes confusion’ (Rural Doctors Association of Southern Africa 2006: 4). Although the Municipal Structures Act (Act 117 of 1998) does not define ‘urban’ and ‘rural’, it does contain a politico-administrative definition based on a particular tier of government. The Constitution (Act 108 of 1996) does make provision for the formation of metropolitan areas in South Africa. This process is facilitated by the Municipal Demarcation Act (Act 28 of 1998), which gives criteria and procedures for the determination of municipal boundaries by an independent authority: namely the Municipal Demarcation Board. Eight metropolitan municipalities have been determined by the Municipal Demarcation Board, of which only the City of Cape Town is located in the Western Cape. The rest of the Western Cape is governed by district and local municipalities which are called non-metropolitan municipalities. Hence, rather than employing the term ‘rural’ to describe the area of investigation, the politico-administrative term of ‘non-metropolitan’ is preferred. However, there are differences between the various district and local municipalities regarding population size, population density, main economic sectors and geophysical factors. The potential exists for small towns and rural areas to become new spaces of post-apartheid fortification.The spread of non-metropolitan gated developments in the Western Cape has been facilitated by various agents in the gating process. These agents include developers, local government authorities, provincial government authorities, civil society and environmental impact assessment practitioners. These agents operate at various spatial scales whilst directing the non-metropolitan gating process from different locales. This research investigates the roles of two sets of agents in the gated development chain – namely, government planning authorities and environmental impact assessment practitioners – and their impacts on broader

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planning processes within the non-metropolitan sphere. The choice of investigating the role of planning authorities and environmental impact assessment practitioners is because of the power and authority these agents have to restrict or approve the construction of gated developments, based on planning and environmental principles, policies and issues.The concept of ‘post-productivist change’ is introduced as it underpins the changes under way in the non-metropolitan Western Cape. The distribution of gated developments in this study area is presented; whereafter the roles of government planning authorities and environmental impact assessment practitioners are investigated.

New geographies of urban gating The boundaries between metropolitan and non-metropolitan are becoming blurred, with the two concepts being little more than dialectical definitional constructs (Davis 2004). Activities and functions that were (in certain cases, exclusively) part of the metropolitan domain can also be found in the non-metropolitan sphere. An example of such a transfer is the growth of the creative class in small towns due to inmigration (Ingle 2010). The suburban dream is no longer the only point of call for a middle class which has expanded its preferences and reach to small towns that are close to metropolitan areas. As such, the non-metropolitan sphere has been transformed from being, exclusively, an area of production for the consumptive metropolitan areas. New activities and consumptive practices are occurring in non-metropolitan areas – largely to cater for the newcomers. This represents a shift from conventional non-metropolitan spatial practices. To explain this non-metropolitan consumptive shift and production focus, agricultural and rural geographers have recognised that the theoretical underpinnings are moving from a productivist non-metropolitan landscape to a post-productivist one. In Australia, for example, attractive but agriculturally marginal areas are more likely to adopt a post-productivist approach (Wilson 2001; Holmes 2002)  – an example of which is the wide variety of amenity-orientated land uses that are making inroads into pastoral and agricultural areas. This change in land use is being driven by urban actors whose involvement has increased land values. The leisure pursuits of urbanites in spaces outside the metropolitan areas have added a new dimension of land use pressure in non-metropolitan areas (Banks and Marsden 2000). Features of a post-productive landscape presented by Wilson (2001) give a comprehensive listing and broader compartmentalisation of post-productivist conceptualisations by focusing on, inter alia, the inclusion of previously excluded or non-involved actors and agents in the social, economic and political conditions of rural spaces. It is against this background that agents who are part of the non-metropolitan gated development chain, are explored. The distribution of non-metropolitan gated developments in the Western Cape assists in creating a greater understanding of where the processes of non-metropolitan change are under way – these locational aspects are presented and discussed next.

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Locational aspects on gated developments An understanding of non-metropolitan gated development distribution is a good basis for the investigation of the developments’ presence in specific towns. A concentration of gated developments in a local municipality calls for an investigation into the reasons for the agglomeration. A  survey by Spocter (2013) yielded 449 non-metropolitan gated developments, which were mapped to present a provincial snapshot of their locations (Figure 7.1). The municipal distribution of gated developments displays a concentration in local municipalities with coastal borders and/or in close proximity to the metropolitan region of Cape Town.The number of gated developments per local municipality tends to decrease with increasing distance from the coast. The local municipalities (LM) with the most gated developments (40 or more) are George LM (66), Overstrand LM (62), Mossel Bay LM (57), Stellenbosch LM (42) and Knysna LM (40).These five local municipalities house 60 per cent of all the gated developments in the study area.Three of the five largest towns in the province, measured by population size, are located in these local municipalities; namely George, Paarl and Worcester. Proximity to the coast and/or the City of Cape Town is a characteristic of these LMs: four are situated along the coast, while two border the City of Cape Town. The coastal LMs and their respective towns are well-known tourist destinations. It is also noteworthy that the population of the towns in these five LMs grew markedly between 2001–07, necessitating the construction of new housing units (Spocter 2013). There are only 54 towns in non-metropolitan Western Cape in which gated developments are present, i.e. 41 per cent of the 131 towns identified by Van der Merwe et al. (2004). However, not all the non-metropolitan gated developments are located in towns. This feature is examined in the following section.

Gated developments within and outside the urban edge An ‘urban edge’ is a planning instrument for containing development and preventing urban sprawl: ‘urban edges are … pro-active growth management tools … to promote more compact contiguous urban development and to protect agricultural [land], biodiversity, heritage and other resources from development’ (Western Cape Provincial Government 2005a: 6, emphasis added). However, municipal urban edges in South Africa are not static delineations (Palmer et al. 2011). The negative aspects of urban sprawl include leapfrog development and the loss of farmland (Jansen van Rensburg and Campbell 2012). Provincial policy cautions that authorisation of developments outside the urban edge brings ‘the province closer to irreparable harm’ (Western Cape Provincial Government 2005b: 46). Some 95 per cent (428) of non-metropolitan gated developments in the Western Cape are located within the urban edge of towns in the province; the remaining 5 per cent (21) are located outside the urban edge of towns on land that might have had a zoning for agriculture. Specific planning processes must be followed to transform agricultural land to a residential area and/or to amend the urban edge

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to include the development in the town. Of the 21 gated developments located outside the urban edge, four were undeveloped projects, i.e. no dwellings had been erected on the sites. The remaining 17 developed gated developments are security estates, implying a bias towards the location of space-intensive security estates outside town borders – so as to accommodate the amenity facilities used by development residents, such as golf courses and open water areas for watersports activities. Numerically, Stellenbosch LM (five gated developments), George LM and Knysna LM (three gated developments each) have the most gated developments outside the urban edge (see Figure 7.2). The prevalence of gated developments located outside the urban edge – rather than in towns – warrants closer inspection, since there are certain planning processes that govern such excursions into agricultural zones that have had notable impacts on rural change in the Western Cape. Conversely, all the gated developments in the Saldanha Bay LM (23) and the Oudtshoorn LM (18) are concentrated within the urban edge. Present in gated developments lying both within and outside the urban edge of towns were some 50 undeveloped gated projects. They are discussed next.

Undeveloped gated projects Undeveloped gated projects are ones that are planned for the future. Although no houses had been built in these undeveloped projects at the time of the survey, the land use applications, rezonings and environmental impact assessments (EIA) – where required – had been completed in readiness for building construction. Gated developments per se do not require an EIA, but if the development triggers any one, or a combination of listed activities, completion of an EIA is required by law. These listed activities are the erection, upgrading or construction of certain infrastructure for the development; a change of land use; proximity to river floodlines; impact on indigenous vegetation; and the subdivision of land. It is pertinent to note that when gated developments undergo an EIA process an environmental authorisation to commence development is issued.This authorisation, known as the Record of Decision, is valid for two years from the date of issue. Thus, in order to enact the Record of Decision, construction may start but the development is not completed. Such construction activities may include the installation of bulk services or the erection of perimeter walls. If construction activities do not commence within the Record of Decision’s two-year time limit, a new EIA has to be commissioned and the costs are borne by the developer. Some 89 per cent (399) of the 449 gated developments in the study area are classified as ‘developed’, while 11 per cent (50) are ‘undeveloped’. The presence of undeveloped gated projects is an indication of gated housing that will come onto the market in the short- to medium-term. Numerically speaking, it is in Overstrand LM (seven gated developments), Mossel Bay LM (six), Bergrivier LM (five) and Stellenbosch LM (four) that future gated development growth will occur (Figure 7.3). This points to a widespread establishment of gated developments in non-metropolitan Western Cape in the near future.

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F IGURE 7.3 Distribution of undeveloped gated developments by local municipality in the Western Cape. Source: Spocter (2013).

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The Bergrivier LM features quite prominently, both in terms of the percentage of undeveloped gated developments within the local municipality and the number of undeveloped gated developments. Bergrivier LM may therefore be seen as a hotspot for the expansion of gated developments, with Velddrif as the epicentre (four planned developments in close proximity). The owner of a guesthouse in Velddrif opined that market speculation by developers had driven the number undeveloped gated projects: ‘It is the money wolves who thought they could come in here (town) and make a quick buck.’1 This sort of dissenting opinion should speak volumes to developers unfamiliar with local housing market conditions. Developers from locales outside the town do not understand the local housing market preferences, a factor which may result in their investment being unsuccessful. While developers and gated development residents are arguably the main actors, it is the planning authorities and EIA specialists who hold influence in non-metropolitan areas.

Networks of power and social relations There are local and international actors due to the internationalisation of gated developments. International investors are ready to invest in developments, and gated golf course developments have courses designed by international golfing personalities. In Chile such investment is facilitated by local policies that create the best climate for gated development investment (Borsdorf and Hidalgo 2008). The international nature of finance capital, expertise, architectural design and the companies involved are all part of this globalisation of gated development. The quest for gated prestige is directed by multi-industry companies offering gated development living products as a new way of life (Kolarikova 2010; Güzey 2014). The large developers often have good connections with local authorities. There are instances of developers shaping the urban morphology by first developing an area, and only then applying for local authority approval (Leisch 2002).The close relationships between real estate agents, financial institutions and construction companies have led to the integrated development of new residential living ideas, including gated developments. A number of examples of the globalisation of the gated development chain exist.The unique regional and national characteristics of South-East Asian cities have been penetrated by First World city elements (Dick and Rimmer 1998). Elite locales were produced using the services of planners from the USA as drawcards for the lifestyle. Genisç (2007) speaks of the global-local connections, and the manifestation of transnational ideologies, as important factors in producing gated developments in Turkey. Raposo (2006) found that in Portugal approximately 23 per cent of the gated developments surveyed were developed by companies with Brazilian stakeholder components. It would appear, therefore, that the influences for the growth of gated developments in Portugal have not come from the USA but from Brazil. Not only is Brazil a former colony of Portugal, the growth of gated developments in the latter country may be significant. Brazilian companies have the knowledge, expertise

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and experience of building gated developments; a New World export to the Old World. Brazilian marketing techniques, which have been imported from the USA (Coy 2006), have assisted the Portuguese real estate industry to commodify, package and market gated development living to a specific target group. Developers, planning authorities and homeowners form part of the construction, planning and management of various phases of the establishment of a gated development. While local authority policy and planning regulations may be significant during the construction phase, there are instances where local authority rules are relinquished in favour of self-governance once the developments are established. Day-to-day management (assuming that units within the developments have been sold) becomes the responsibility of a resident collective – which becomes an important actor in the gated development chain. Homeowner associations (HOAs) are formed according to legal codes that manage and control all aspects of living in a gated development. Developers facilitate the formation of HOAs – the governing bodies elected by homeowners – which subsequently control and manage various communal aspects of the development:  including security, service provision and rule enforcement. HOAs have an elected mandate to act against those homeowners and renters who do not conform to rules and regulations that have been previously agreed. However, it has been found that in many cases commitment by homeowners to governance and administration is lacking (Glasze 2005). The growth of gated developments would not be possible without these various actors and agents in the development chain; that is, people, institutions and organisations. These actors and agents are found on both sides of the development: there are various persons or institutions on the outside responsible for setting up gated developments, as well as those on the inside who set rules and regulations for their administration.

Agents in the gated development arena There are a host of actors and agents in the gated development arena, from the initial seller of the land, through to the HOAs of completed developments. This chapter, however, concentrates on just two sets of agents: the planning authorities and the EIA specialists. Both these agents have particular influence in non-metropolitan gated developments, and at times their behaviour is contradictory. These contradictions are due in part to the policy vacuum in which the proliferation of non-metropolitan gated developments occurs.

Planning authorities The planning authorities in the various local municipalities use gated developments in their towns to promote different agendas. The case studies of the Swellendam LM and the Oudtshoorn LM (see Figure 7.1) emphasise this point: the former uses gated developments to increase building densification in the town, while the latter loses municipal income due to political meddling in the establishment of gated

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development. This serves to emphasise that there is no overriding provincial gated development policy to guide such developments in the non-metropolitan areas. Provincial authorities cannot enforce such a policy, although it can be made part of a provincial planning process that compels local municipalities to align their planning processes to include a gated development policy.

Gated developments as a residential dwelling densification mechanism Densification is advocated by planning authorities as a way to combat urban sprawl. The Swellendam LM has used gated developments as a way to increase residential dwelling density. The town of Swellendam, which had a population of 17,537 in 2011, is situated at the foot of the Langeberg Mountains along the Koornlands River in the Swellendam LM. Swellendam is the third oldest settlement in South Africa (after Cape Town and Stellenbosch) – the magisterial district of Swellendam having been declared in 1747. Consequently, there are a considerable number of architectural heritage sites in the town. More than 50 dwellings have been declared national monuments. Swellendam is located on the N2 national road, 218 km from Cape Town and 206 km from George, the second-most populous settlement in the Western Cape.The almost equidistant location from the two largest settlements in the province places Swellendam approximately two hours’ drive from each. In addition to the agricultural hinterland of the town, there are also two nature reserves nearby, as well as many hiking trails in the Langeberg Mountains. The Breede River, the largest river in the Western Cape, flows close by.The importance of agriculture in the local economy has declined, whilst the tourism sector has shown strong growth (Spocter 2013). The Swellendam Spatial Development Framework (SDF)2 stipulated that the town advocate densification as a means to promote social integration and mixed land use, while containing urban sprawl (Swellendam Municipality 2008). It is based on the densification and urban integration objectives contained in the provincial SDF (Western Cape Provincial Government 2005c). The Integrated Development Plan (IDP)3 of Swellendam LM records that there are opportunities for the subdivision of land in the town – with a view to increased densification and spatial integration (Swellendam Municipality 2010). Individual plots within gated developments are a means of achieving this increased density, through subdivision (Hattingh 2011). A  similar process of increasing density through the construction of gated developments that utilise space in the older town core has been documented in Tijuana, Mexico. Here, high-density housing is marketed at the middle and upper classes and located in a mixed land-use area (Gallegos 2009). By mapping the location of gated developments in Swellendam over the Swellendam Density Plan itself, it is possible to determine the existence of any link between the proliferation of gated developments and densification in the town (Figure 7.4). Zone 1 indicates the historical zone, tourism use, CBD and residential areas. In this zone the SDF proposes ‘[l]imited densification … due to the sensitive historical nature and streetscape of the area’ (Swellendam Municipality 2008: 122).

Legend

0

0.45

0.9

1.8 Kilometres

FIGUR E 7.4 Gated developments in Swellendam overlaid on the Swellendam Density Plan. Source: Data overlay on Swellendam Municipality (2008: 117).

Undeveloped

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However, three developed gated developments and one undeveloped gated project are located in Zone 1. This conflicts with the historical features in the zone – particularly the Olive Grove and other unnamed developments that are situated along the historical spine of the town. However, only two citizens have complained to the authorities that inappropriate subdivision and densification is harmful to the town’s character. Both live close to the properties concerned and are worried that their immediate surroundings will be aesthetically or otherwise harmed by subdivision, densification and gating. Zones 2 and 4 each have one gated development – a townhouse complex and a security estate respectively. In these zones densification is proposed by subdivision and second dwelling units (Swellendam Municipality 2008). Zone 3 contains four gated developments, of which three are classified as infill developments. Two of these are security estates and two are townhouse complexes. The latter are located closer to the CBD than the security estates.The SDF states that this zone has ‘several infill development opportunities … [and] … can be developed at higher densities (Swellendam Municipality 2008: 122). Gated developments in Swellendam are used to densify and contain the growth of the town (Hattingh 2011). Importantly, higher densities can be achieved by constructing townhouse complexes rather than security estates. But in Swellendam a contradictory situation exists – instead of higher density townhouse complexes being developed, it is mostly the lower density security estates that have been developed to increase the number of dwelling units per hectare. An answer to this conundrum is found elsewhere in the comments of estate agents in Ceres: residents of small towns do not want to live in small, high-density townhouses – they want space to move in (Kotze and Smit 2011). It appears, therefore, that developers have made the correct choice by developing security estates rather than townhouse complexes in Swellendam – this is, in fact, more in line with what existing residents want. Furthermore, the security estates in Swellendam do not have vast expanses of open space contained within them, further increasing the dwelling densities of these kinds of estates also.The more houses a developer can build in the development, the lower the cost per unit; which in turn makes the units more affordable for potential homebuyers (Erasmus 2011). In addition to meeting its housing density targets, the municipality saves money by allowing the development of gated developments. The municipality does not have to provide bulk services (water, electricity, sewerage) inside the developments: this is the developers’ responsibility. The money that the municipality saves in this manner may be directed at other areas of municipal need.

Local municipality not cashing in on economic impacts of gated developments The importance of retirement gated developments relates to them being sites of age clustering; their impacts on the economy, social relations, town morphology and migration; and their ability to provide the dual service of security and care.

50

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Saldanha Bay

Swartland

Bergrivier

Overstrand Cape Agulhas

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Breede River/Winelands

Theewaterskloof

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Breede Valley

Witzenberg

Drakenstein

Cederberg

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Number

Kannaland

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Laingsburg

Retirement gated developments

District Management Areas

George

Indian Ocean

Mossel Bay

Oudtshoorn

Prince Albert

Knysna

Beaufort West

Northern Cape

Bitou

Eastern Cape

FIGUR E 7.5 Distribution of retirement gated developments by local municipality in the Western Cape. Source: Spocter (2013).

0

Atlantic Ocean

Matzikama

Legend City of Cape Town

N

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Retirement gated developments cater specifically for the housing needs of retired or semi-retired persons above a certain age, although some may still be working full-time. Some 31 non-metropolitan gated developments (7 per cent of all non-metropolitan gated developments in the Western Cape) are retirement gated developments (Figure 7.5). Oudtshoorn is the epicentre of such developments in the province, closely followed by Mossel Bay (see Figure  7.1)  – a classic case of what McHugh (2000) refers to as the spatiality of aging, whereby retirement gated developments have a tendency to be located in a specific area.The town Oudtshoorn in the Oudtshoorn LM had a population of approximately 61,507 in 2011. Although Oudtshoorn is located 418 km from the metropolitan area of Cape Town, it is only 62 km from the second largest settlement in the Western Cape – namely, George. The local municipality receives rates and taxes from each of the developments. According to Nel (2011) the two Rotary International developments in Oudtshoorn each employ a staff complement of 55 people. They are the fourth largest employers in Oudtshoorn after the municipality, various government departments and the ostrich co-operative. The operating budget of Oudtshoorn Retirement Village is approximately R5 million/annum, which does not include resident spending.The municipality collects about R100,000 a month in rates, taxes and electricity fees from the Millennium Park development. The combined asset value of the two Rotary-managed developments is just over R500  million. The development of another Rotary International retirement gated development in Swellendam poured R250 million into the town and, together with the money the residents spend locally, underlines the development’s economic importance to the town (Olderwagen 2011). Clearly, the retirement gated developments represent a substantial financial investment – they create employment and are a secure source of revenue for the local municipality. The two retirement gated developments in Oudtshoorn managed by the Oudtshoorn Rotary Club are much in demand. Requests have been made for more developments to be constructed and managed by Rotary in Oudtshoorn. A proposed multi-million rand exclusive retirement gated development by Rotary in Oudtshoorn – located close to the army base – drew 38 potential buyers in one week, despite the upfront R1 million deposit. However, plans to construct the development did not materialise because negotiations with the municipality reached a political stalemate. But the demand for the development was there: ‘The demand! We had to give back people’s money! I mean, they literally threw their money at us!’ (Nel 2011). In this instance political factors within the municipality were to blame. So, while one municipality (Swellendam) has used gated developments to its advantage (to achieve densification), another (Oudtshoorn) has spurned gated developments due to political factors. In the absence of provincial gated development policy guidelines, local municipalities have the power to decide whether or not gated developments can be established in their areas of jurisdiction. This in turn results in the development of new geographies of gating away from metropolitan areas – in non-metropolitan towns which agree (or not) to gated developments in order to achieve certain objectives, be they planning, economic or political objectives. The

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proliferation of gated developments in certain towns, and the stagnation of gated development growth in others, has the potential for the creation of new areas of non-metropolitan fortification.

The provincial viewpoint The similarities and differences between metropolitan and non-metropolitan gated developments in South Africa exposes the need for policy direction on the matter.The City of Cape Town is the only metropolitan municipality in South Africa that has a policy for gated developments. No national or provincial policies exist. The ideal would be for a provincial policy on gated developments that deals with the broad aspects and impacts; while municipal level policy would be informed by provincial policy but would address the finer aspects of gated developments such as their location and planning aspects. There is no known gated development policy for any non-metropolitan municipality in South Africa. The Stellenbosch Local Municipality presented a draft gated development policy to its council in December 2011 (Stellenbosch Municipality 2011). The Western Cape government, in the current review of the provincial SDF, has recognised the need for a provincial policy on what it termed ‘smaller security estates’ (Western Cape Provincial Government 2012). The provincial planning authorities cannot compel local municipalities to adopt a gated development policy, but they can suggest, lead and guide the lower tier of government (Munro 2012). Should the provincial planning authorities include non-metropolitan gated developments in the provincial SDF, the municipalities will be compelled to align their SDFs to the provincial one and give effect to provincial policy as stipulated in the Municipal Systems Act (Act 32 of 2000). Thus, where local municipalities have gated development policies contained in their SDFs, the SDF becomes part of their IDP – the document that guides integrated development planning in each municipality (Munro 2012). A gated development policy in each local municipality will provide for the differing social, historical, heritage, communal and other place-specific factors that influence the insertion of any development in its built environment. Another set of actors in the gated development chain are the EIA specialists who are involved in non-metropolitan gated developments outside the urban edge  – these will be the focus of the next section.

Environmental impact assessment (EIA) specialists The transformation of agricultural land in the Western Cape is a controversial issue (Niemand 2011). The historical use of the land and its zoning designations provide evidence of land use changes on the sites of gated development. The zoning designation is a land use planning tool used by municipal and provincial authorities to regulate and manage the use of land:  ‘Within each zone there are provisions which set out the purposes for which land with such zoning may be used, and the

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manner in which it may be developed. Land can only be developed as permitted in terms of its zoning’ (Western Cape Provincial Government 2004: 10). All the gated developments located outside the urban edge were once sites of farming activity, or designated as farms. The change in land use from primary production to residential testifies to a post-productive rurality (Wilson 2001). All except one of the gated developments outside the urban edge have at least one associated amenity function, adding credence to the post-productivism observation of Wilson (2001) and Holmes (2002). The various specialists involved in the integrated environmental management process – and who are appointed by the developers – provide various reasons as to why farmland should be relinquished for the construction of gated developments. The farming potential of the soil is a common explanation given for why farming should not (even cannot) continue. Soils classified with medium to low potential are viewed as being agriculturally uneconomic; an alternative, therefore, is in order  – in the interests of economic sustainability (Praktiplan 2000; Formaplan 2001; Nel and De Kock 2003; Withers Environmental Consultants 2003). Moreover, the small size of some farms (due to subdivision over the years), the distance to markets and the high transport costs for farmers are further impediments to profitable farming (Anel Blignaut Environmental Consultants 2006; De Lange 2011; Nelson and Nelson 2011). Long periods of a farm not being used for agricultural purposes and/or the unavailability of water are further justifications for requests to have land use redesignated (OVP Associates 1992; Avierinos and Randall 2004). None of the specialist reports oppose or question the impacts of gated developments. Specialists, appointed by the developers, promote an uncritical acceptance of the final gated product and try to ensure a positive outcome for their clients. It is left to broader civil society to appeal against authorisation granted to gated developments. There are contrasting views on whether the growth of gated developments outside the urban edge leads to a loss of rural character. The Record of Decision of one development application submits that ‘it will create much needed residential space in the area while not detracting from the agricultural and rural appeal of the area’ (Department of Environmental Affairs and Development Planning 2001: 3). Another Record of Decision prescribes that the design, layout, fencing and lighting of developments must ‘be adapted to enhance the rural residential nature, [and] visual sense of place’ (Department of Environmental Affairs and Development Planning 2007: 7). In one case environmental consultants admitted that the development in question ‘will lead to a loss of the existing rural amenity currently enjoyed by … properties adjacent to the site’ (Withers Environmental Consultants 2004:  v). Another environmental impact report (Pezula) conceded:  ‘Losers:  change in the rural character of the farm (local)  – change in the rural character of the stretch of coastline (regional)’ (Hilland Associates 2002: 35). Yet another maintained that the ‘agricultural area is not a loss of good agricultural land and … the proposal is desirable as measured against this’ (Formaplan 2001: 23). In spite of this recognition (or not) of the change of the rural character that the development of a gated

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community would bring, the fact remains that the agricultural and farming nature of these locations have undergone significant change. The involvement of environmental specialists and practitioners in gated developments occurs not only in the planning phase (design and construction of the gated development), but also during the operational phase (a functioning gated development). In some developments, portions of the land are retained for agricultural purposes or as nature areas with indigenous vegetation. Residents can benefit from the enjoyment value of the nature reserve and/or the good wine produced on the farm – which all become part of the exclusive living package offered to them. A study in the USA has established that many such developments emphasise the importance of their being located in or close to ecologically sensitive areas – as a way of promoting the maximum satisfaction to be had from living in a rural idyll (Kondo et al. 2012). In South Africa there are conscious efforts to promote, cultivate and maintain indigenous flora close to such developments (Ballard and Jones 2011). Some gated developments endeavour to improve the conservation-worthy indigenous vegetation by implementing environmental management plans and appointing environmental managers to work on the estates (Department of Environmental Affairs and Development Planning 2003; Pezula Private Estate 2011; Jakkalsfontein Nature Reserve 2012). These interventions improve conservation efforts and help to maintain agricultural practices in nearby farms, while also having a residential component. Gated developments introduce to the agricultural landscape the issues of employment opportunities and discourses surrounding controlled access to them  – but these matters are not critically questioned by EIA specialists, and neither are social impact specialists included as part of the impact assessment. As an example of how such development change social and economic relations, it was found that retirement migrants from the UK (residing in Spain) employed the local populace for specific service roles: ‘locals tended the land of the migrants, cleaned their houses, cooked and did their washing’ (Oliver 2005: 53). It is not known how many agricultural jobs have been lost on land that is now occupied by gated developments beyond the urban edge, but government planners expect that gated developments outside the urban edge in the Western Cape will provide employment opportunities not only during the construction phase, but also during the operational one (Department of Environmental Affairs and Development Planning 2007). These exclusive enclaves of the rich are seen as having the potential to contribute to local employment by providing low-skilled jobs to people living nearby. Or as it has variously been described by the advocating specialists: ‘possible employment of domestic workers and gardeners from surrounding farms’ (Praktiplan 2005); ‘the 100[]house estate will provide domestic and gardening jobs’ (Withers Environmental Consultants 2004). An example of a mutual relationship between a gated development and the surrounding community is the Longlands Country Estate, which has donated a portion of its land for the development of an agricultural village alongside (Withers Environmental Consultants 2004). This village, which will be separated from the

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Longlands Country Estate by a security fence and a guarded entrance, features high-potential soils on which a vineyard will be planted  – providing low-skilled employment opportunities for the local population. The location of the soils necessitates that the dwellings of two separate developments (the country estate and the agricultural village) will not share a common boundary. Similar rural community relations have been researched elsewhere (Chávez 2005; Tubtim 2012). Locating an exclusive gated development alongside a poor community to serve as a pool of low-skilled labour may have social consequences. Research in Santiago, Chile, reveals that a positive social relationship exists between gated estates and their bordering low-income neighbourhoods (Sabatini and Salcedo 2007). In South Africa, however, the reality is different, as evidenced by research in Cape Town into the relationships between Westlake village residents and those living in the nearby gated Silvertree Estate. A lack of neighbourliness between the two groups was documented (Lemanski 2006). This dualism requires further research in South African agrarian locales (Van der Waal 2005). Research conducted in Japan, the USA and Australia reveals that there may be antagonism between surrounding farmers and gated development residents as the former are involved in farming activities and the latter are not (Murakami et  al. 2009; Smith and Sharp 2005). The proximity of gated developments serves to increase local land prices, which consequently affects the profitability of farming activities (Curry et al. 2001). This tension is heightened when the surrounding farmers and landowners have opposed a development from the outset by appealing against environmental authorisations issued by the provincial authority. These appeals reflect the changing social relations of on- and off-farm interactions that an exclusive, securitised, entrance-controlled estate brings to the farming milieu. It is then the provincial authorities – and to a lesser degree, the EIA specialists – who are tasked with defusing the situation once a decision has been made.

The future of urban gating: critical perspectives Gated developments are an inescapable feature of the South African urban landscape which have also spread to non-metropolitan areas. Post-apartheid fortification practices are set to pervade non-metropolitan, small town and rural spaces. Non-metropolitan spaces have evolved into commodities to be bought and sold; the fact that rural land has become hot property is an indication of an increasing post-productivist landscape. However, no matter what the location of gated developments, there are actors and agents ensuring that the product, and the process of delivering it, is successful. Gated developments in the Western Cape are mostly located in towns close to the City of Cape Town, or in tourist towns along the coast. They are also found outside towns, on land previously used for farming activities. Furthermore, as a result of the economic recession a number of gated developments have not been constructed in their entirety – they remained undeveloped. Nevertheless, all gated

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developments have to follow a planning process that is administered at various levels of government. It is here that individual municipalities have carte blanche to choose to use gated developments to achieve their local planning and economic goals, or not. Municipalities are unrestricted by guidelines as to which locations in their towns can be used. Hence, there is a clear need for policy direction from the provincial authorities on the matter of non-metropolitan, small town and rural gated developments. EIA specialists employed by the developers of gated developments have been slow to highlight their negative biophysical, economic, visual and social effects. Their silence and uncritical acquiescence with regard to non-metropolitan gated developments has created a condition whereby the phenomenon has diffused into previously ungated areas. These new geographies of gating possess the potential to alter networks of power and social relations in the non-metropolitan arena. Furthermore, by supporting non-metropolitan gating, EIA specialists have contributed to the change from a productivist to a post-productivist agricultural regime in the Western Cape. And while the developments have improved biodiversity aspects within their boundaries, this has been purely for the enjoyment of development residents and not the wider populace. In fact, non-residents are barred from entering the developments at the same time as measures are being instituted to enable access to local wildlife. Furthermore, EIA specialists are providing positive reasons as to why developments should be built – touting them as areas of employment for surrounding poor communities.This represents a post-apartheid twist on the apartheid phenomenon of the labour reserves.The increasing numbers of gated developments, driven by the vigour of various actors and agents, may add another layer of contestation in the non-metropolitan economic and social terrain of the Western Cape.

Notes 1 2 3

Informal interview with guesthouse owner, 8 November 2009.Translated from Afrikaans. The SDF guides current and future land uses within a municipality and gives effect to the Integrated Development Plan (IDP). The IDP is an overarching development plan for a municipality.

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Niemand, B. (2011) ‘Transformation of agricultural and undeveloped land in the Boland region of the Western Cape’, thesis presented in partial fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Arts in the Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences at Stellenbosch University. Stellenbosch: Stellenbosch University. Available at:  "http://scholar.sun.ac.za/ handle/10019.1/6776 (Accessed 1 October 2013) Olderwagen, C. (2011) ‘Rotary in Swellendam  – 1965 to 2011’ available at:  "http://www. rotaryswellendam.co.za/index.php/news (accessed 1 October 2013) Oliver, C. (2005) Retirement migration: Paradoxes of ageing. London: Routledge OVP Associates (1992) ‘Oubaai resort zoning application’, Cape Town: OVP Associates. Palmer, B. J., Hill, T. R., McGregor, G. K. and Paterson, A. W. (2011) ‘An assessment of coastal development and land use change using the DPSIR framework: Case studies from the Eastern Cape, South Africa’ in Coastal Management, vol. 39: 158–74 Pezula Private Estate (2011) ‘Private Estate’, available at:  http://www.pezula.com/index .php?option=com_content&view=article&id=92&Itemid=422 (accessed 4 January 2012) Praktiplan (2000) Aansoek vir die hersonering en onderverdeling van Plaas 1455, Paarl. July 2000. Praktiplan (2005) Verslag: Aansoek om hersonering, onderverdeling en konsolidasie van Plase 1455/11, 6 en 10, Paarl. February 2005. Raposo, R. (2006) ‘Gated communities, commodification and aestheticization: The case of the Lisbon Metropolitan Area’ in GeoJournal, vol. 66: 43–56 Roitman, S. and Phelps, N. (2011) ‘Do gates negate the city? Gated communities’ contribution to the urbanisation of surburbia in Pilar, Argentina’ in Urban Studies, vol. 48: 3487–509 Rural Doctors Association of Southern Africa (2006) ‘A rural health strategy for South Africa’, available at: http://www.rhap.org.za/document-library/doc_download/22-rudas a-ruralhealthstratdraft2006 (accessed 1 October 2013) Sabatini, F. and Salcedo, R. (2007) ‘Gated communities and the poor in Santiago, Chile: Functional and symbolic integration in a context of aggressive capitalist colonization of lower-class areas’ in Housing Policy Debate, vol. 18: 577–606 Smith, M. B. and Sharp, J. S. (2005) ‘Growth, development and farming in an Ohio exurban region’ in Environment and Behavior, vol. 37: 565–79 Spocter, M. (2013) ‘Non-metropolitan gated developments in the Western Cape: Patterns, processes and purpose’, PhD dissertation, Stellenbosch University. Available at: http://scholar.sun.ac.za/handle/10019.1/79915 (accessed 2 August 2013) Statistics South Africa (2003) Investigations into appropriate definitions of urban and rural areas for South Africa: Discussion document. Pretoria: Statistics South Africa Stellenbosch Municipality (2011) Minutes: Planning, IHS and property management committee meeting. Reference number 3/4/3/5/2/4. 5 December. Available at:  www.stellenbosch.gov.za/jsp/util/document.jsp?id=4672 (accessed 7 October 2012) Swellendam Municipality (2008) ‘Swellendam spatial development framework (Final draft) November 2008’, available at:  http://www.swellenmun.co.za/sdf.pdf (accessed 1 October 2013) Swellendam Municipality (2010) ‘Review of the integrated development plan, 2010–2011 (First draft)’, available at:  http://www.swellenmun.co.za/idp2010.pdf (accessed 1 October 2013) Tubtim,T. (2012) ‘Migration to the countryside: Class encounters in peri-urban Chiang Mai, Thailand’ in Critical Asian Studies, vol. 44: 113–30 Van der Merwe, I. J., Davids, A. J., Ferreira, S., Swart, G. P. and Zietsman, H. L. (2004) Growth potential of towns in the Western Cape. Stellenbosch: Centre for Geographical Analysis Van der Waal, C. S. (2005) ‘Spatial and organisational complexity in the Dwars River Valley, Western Cape’ in Anthropology Southern Africa, vol. 28: 8–21

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Western Cape Provincial Government (2004) ‘Provincial zoning scheme model by-law’, Cape Town: Department of Environmental Affairs and Development Planning. Available at:  http://www.westerncape.gov.za/Text/2008/3/model_regulations__provincial_zoning_scheme,_oct._2004_.pdf (accessed 5 October 2012) Western Cape Provincial Government (2005a) ‘Provincial urban edge guideline’, Cape Town:  Department of Environmental Affairs and Development Planning. Available at:  http://www.westerncape.gov.za/other/2006/11/page1_18_urban_edge_guidelines.pdf (accessed 5 April 2012) Western Cape Provincial Government (2005b) ‘Guidelines for golf courses, golf estates, polo fields and polo estates in the Western Cape’, Cape Town: Department of Environmental Affairs and Development Planning. Available at:  http://www.capegateway.gov.za/ Text/2005/12/gcgepf&pe_guidelinesfindec05.pdf (accessed 5 April 2012) Western Cape Provincial Government (2005c) ‘Western Cape provincial spatial development framework’, Cape Town: Department of Environmental Affairs and Development Planning. Available at: http://www.westerncape.gov.za/eng/pubs/public_info/W/186589 (accessed 15 March 2012) Western Cape Provincial Government (2012) ‘Provincial spatial development framework:  Spatial perspective’, Cape Town:  Department of Environmental Affairs and Development Planning Wilson, G. A. (2001) ‘From productivism to post-productivism … and back again? Exploring the (un)changed natural and mental landscapes of European agriculture in Transactions of the Institute of British Geographers, vol. 26: 77–102 Withers Environmental Consultants (2003) ‘Application form and scoping checklist:  The proposed development of Longlands Estate on Portions 9 and 11 of the Farm Longlands No. 393,Vlottenburg, Division of Stellenbosch’, November Withers Environmental Consultants (2004) ‘Environmental impact report:  The proposed “De Bosch” development on Portion 1 of the Farm No. 1374, Stellenbosch’, July

8 BEYOND GATING Condo-ism as a way of urban life Gillad Rosen and Alan Walks

Urban gating: the emerging debate on condominium development Cities are perennially transforming their form as a function of government policies, corporate interests and consumer tastes in tandem with shifting socioeconomic and ideological tenor. Traditional neoclassical economic philosophies favored the logic of the market over government planning and intervention. Neo-liberal parties and politicians continue to advance deregulation and promote entrepreneurial governance arrangements that constantly reshape the urban form (McKenzie 1994, 2005; Kohn 2004; Harvey 2005; Nelson 2005; Hackworth 2007; Peck 2010, 2011; Grant and Rosen 2009). In 1970 Henri Lefebvre (2003 [1970]) posited what he saw as a shift from an industrial form of capitalism to a form based on urbanization, making the production of urban space the most important dynamic through which social relations are being reproduced. The laissez-faire capitalism that was advanced via rapid industrialization has, of late, reinvented itself in a ‘third wave’ of urbanization. Intensifying global flows and deepening neo-liberalism have produced a rejuvenated urban landscape inhabited by a new and diverse clientèle of urban dwellers (Scott 2011). Despite the age of the industrial metropolis having long entered its twilight and yielded to its sprawling post-modern suburban successor, the urban core has rebounded – in population and economic function – in recent years. New employment opportunities in the office, retail and culture sectors, as well as growing numbers of higher income residents that seek to live in the inner city, signify a renewed interest in downtowns and dense urban living (Smith 1984; Ley 1996; Glaeser et al. 2001;Walks 2001, 2006a, 2011; Birch 2002; Atkinson 2006; Glaeser 2011, Rosen and Walks 2013). At the cusp of the current urban transformation lies the condominium  – which is a form of urban tenure and not, as frequently assumed, a construction style

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FIGURE 8.1 A conceptual model of condo-ism. Source: author.

in which a parcel of property is divided horizontally and vertically into units that are each privately owned. Common areas that may vary in scale and scope – such as the atrium and gardens – are shared and jointly managed by members of the condo corporation (or body corporate, in those countries that prefer the term ‘strata title’) (Moriarty 1973; Hansmann 1991; Harris 2011). Homeowners in these projects may decide on internal rules and restrictions, which in turn may tighten control over common property and on community life (McKenzie 1994, 2011; Kern 2010a, 2010b; Low 2012). This chapter expands the study of gated communities by directing scholarly attention to an emerging debate over the production of privatized and secured forms of urban living that are not always or necessarily included among the traditional definitions of gating, but which function in a very similar fashion. We examine condo-ism as an urban phenomenon in which various sundry and principled actors, values and ideals, policies, and institutions alter not only the physical urban form, but ultimately reconstruct social relations, social boundaries, urban networks and ways of urban living. Condo-ism both reflects and fosters the drive toward urban densification, gentrification, and the shifting of power dynamics from the public to the private sector (Lees 1994; Kern 2007; Blandy and Wang 2013; Rosen and Walks 2013). Using the City of Toronto as our major case study, we conceptualize the ways in which condo-ism is formed and how it operates; and identify its major driving forces to illustrate its potential impact on urban life (see Figure 8.1). We argue that condo-ism is fundamentally about the changing physical and social dynamics of cities, which are working to shift development trends from suburbanization and urban dispersion toward concentration, but also privatization. Our work is based on an extensive dataset derived from a mix of quantitative and qualitative methods, including over 30 in-depth interviews with key informants, analysis

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of planning documents, compilation of finely detailed data on the existing condominium stock in the City of Toronto, custom data purchased from Statistics Canada on condominium trends (1981, 1991, 2001 and 2006), data from the American Housing Survey for the years 1975–2007, and finally a computer assisted telephone interview (CATI) survey of 318 residents living in the inner cities of Toronto and Vancouver.

Urban enclosures: the expansion of privatopia to North America’s urban centers Condominiums are one of several development arrangements  – including US co-operatives, gated communities and homeowner associations (HOAs)  – whose community ownership and governance structure take the form of a Common Interest Development (CID) (sometimes known as a Community Association (CA) or Common Interest Community (CIC)) (McKenzie 1994; Webster and Le Goix 2005; McCabe 2011). CIDs are a unique form of territorially based property-regime in which communities privately manage their financial and political affairs (Webster 2002; Glasze 2005; Manzi and Smith-Bowers 2005, Kirby 2008, Warner 2011). As crossbreeds between public and private ownership (McKenzie 2003), CIDs are both a product and a driver of urban neo-liberalism, and have come to personify the city that eschews public goods, housing, and spaces in favor of privatization, gentrification and downtown redevelopment (Webster 2002; Hackworth 2007). Condominiums originated in Europe in the early nineteenth century and have since diffused throughout the globe (Cribbet 1963; Moriarty 1973). Unlike rental buildings that are controlled by a single owner, manager or government official, public space in condo properties is jointly owned and controlled by the condo residents (Cribbet 1963; Lees 1994; Low et al. 2012). Condominiums operate through a corporation or board of homeowners elected by, and responsible to, the owners. Most medium- and large-sized condo complexes are managed by professional management companies that are responsible to the condo board. State agencies have traditionally promoted condominiums for two major reasons:  first as an attempt to deal with urban sprawl in the context of scarce land resources; and second, as a means of providing affordable private housing for the middle classes in the face of government austerity – while at the same time ensuring provision of private amenities, the safety of the condo-residents, and a boost to property values (Lee 1989; Lees 1994; Kern 2007; Pow 2009; Low 2012). The rapid growth of condo construction and occupancy in North American cities in the last decade typifies a trend toward downtown intensification (Kern 2007, 2010a, 2010b; Lehrer and Wieditz 2009; Lehrer et al. 2010). In fact, a greater percentage of new housing built in the centres of both US and Canadian cities has been of the condo form, underscoring condo building as a primarily urban phenomenon. Nearly a quarter of all new housing constructed in the centres of North American cities since 1975 – both in the USA and in Canada – have been in

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condominium form – 21 per cent in the USA, and 29.5 per cent in Canada’s MTV regions (Montreal,Toronto and Vancouver). According to the Census of Canada, the number of new condominiums entering the market each year between 1970–2010 has increased sevenfold. Canadian condo construction patterns have largely followed (and currently surpass) those of their American counterparts. Canada’s largest metro region – Toronto – has seen a sharp uptake in condominium development. Today home to nearly 360,000 condo dwellings, it is one of the top five condo markets in North America – alongside Miami (810,600 condo units in 2007), Chicago (474,400 condo units in 2009), New  York (385,100 condo units and 474,900 co-op units in 2009) and Los Angeles (245,500 condo units in 2003) (Rosen and Walks 2013).

Toronto’s changing landscape: condo-ism for a new urban lifestyle The Greater Toronto Area (GTA) is one of the largest industrial and office hubs in North America. It is famous for its CN Tower, Rogers Centre, waterfront and urban parks, but also for its reputation as a tolerant multicultural city with an investmentfriendly environment that is highly attractive to immigrants (non-Canadian citizens born abroad) and entrepreneurs. More recently, the city region has also become known for its unparalleled pace of condominium growth, and its spectacular cityscape (Figure 8.2). Our work shows that policies originating from all levels of government have been significant in both leading the very existence of Toronto’s condo market (Table 8.1, below), as well as in manipulating the spatial distribution of development sites – all of which has promoted high density condo development in the urban core (see Figure 8.3, below). Table 8.1 summarizes the major polices that have driven condo development in Toronto over the years. The very existence of the condo form of housing is attributable to innovations in legislation (i.e. Ontario’s Condominium Act, 1967)  that have formalized multi-unit structures for owner-occupation rather than for rent. In the following years changes in housing programs, land taxation and interest rates, as well as availability of private credit, have led developers to redirect their capital from rental buildings to condo units. Declining interest rates in the 1980s, coupled with growing access to credit in the late 1980s and again from the late 1990s, allowed condo developers to cash in immediately on their investment rather than having to wait many years to derive a profit (as they had to with rental buildings). Developers had long criticized city rent controls, imposed in the 1970s, for being counterproductive towards the provision of further rental housing development. As one condo developer explained, ‘rent control stifled the construction of apartments, but maybe it was an impetus for the construction of condominiums’ (Interview with developer, 2010). Estimates reveal that 23–45 per cent of condo units are purchased with the intention of renting them out (CMHC 2012: 64). Some condominiums are rented

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FIGURE 8.2 Mississauga’s rising skyline of residential condominiums. Source: Eran Razin.

out by the developers themselves, but now without the confining limitations of rent controls (Interview with developer, 2010). Condos are in fact a legal loophole creating ‘a new form of rental housing in a different form of tenure’ (Clewes, cited in Rosen and Walks 2014). This transition from rental building to condo building is a further indication of diminished public control over housing, and reinforces socioeconomic disparities by spatially segregating economically weak renters (who cannot afford expensive areas such as the downtown and waterfront zones), from the economically strong ones who can (Hulchanski 2010; Walks 2011, 2013). Among the initial catalysts of condo construction has been the City of Toronto’s ability to redirect growth (since the 1980s) by adopting intensification as a major planning principle. Intensification became even more prominent after the 1998 metro-Toronto amalgamation, and after the 2005 provincial legislation that further defined urban growth boundaries to produce a clear road map for future development in the region. As a result of this process Toronto identified specific areas for intensification, while simultaneously preventing other areas from being developed at all. This policy of densification has been relatively successful in maximizing existing infrastructure capacity along transportation corridors, while incrementally reducing the rate of urban sprawl (Figure 8.3). A condo developer explained that his company’s development philosophy has always been to build where existing infrastructure and transitways allow for a ‘no-car lifestyle’, and where ‘amenities are

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TABLE 8.1 Summary of major policies that have driven condominium development in

Toronto

Policy decision

Period

Ontario’s Rent Control Act

Ontario’s Condominium Act

Major stakeholders

Outcomes

May overturn decisions of elected municipal councils and alter and amend municipal decisions regardless of existing municipal by-laws or plans. Provides developers with power to balance political pressures. These ‘lot levies’ or Municipalities Incentives for 1989, but developing high development impact and originated in house-building rise in Toronto 1950s under the fees are one-time in comparison to growth-related levies industry name of ‘lot other suburban that are collected levies’ communities in from developers the region Encouraged Provincial Limits rent control 1960s, developers to Government increase for tightened in redirect capital and landlords, posing a the house-building away from challenge for the mid-1980s rental buildings industry financial viability and towards of residential rental condominiums. development in Providing Ontario developers with larger and more immediate profits Major spatial, Province of 1967 Offering an social and Ontario and alternative to house-building economic rental transformations – industry accommodation condo-ism by providing housing in multiple unit structures

OMB (Ontario 1930s, since Municipal 1990s with Board) more significant powers

Provincial Development Charges Act

Aims Govern land use planning in the form of a land use tribune (an appeals body)

Provincial and municipal planning, local communities and property developers

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TABLE 8.1 (cont.)

Period

Canada’s Immigration Policy

Dramatic influx of population that has created vast demand for housing in the region. Toronto has become home to over 1,200,000 immigrants, 20% of Canada’s total immigrant population City of Toronto, Establishing Early 1980s Negotiated deals a negotiating real estate with real estate mechanism developers, developers that for density secure cash or other and local bonusing. This contribution for the communities development City in return for instrument exceeding existing fastens planning height and density permission restrictions in to developers the City’s zoning in return for policies carrying out additional work for local communities. De facto establishing a new system for providing public infrastructure and amenities dependent upon new high density development Directing City of Early 2000s, but Defining growth Toronto, local growth and originating from boundaries, regulating sprawl communities identifying the late 1980s by designating and some areas for City Plans intensification while house-building growth centers, employment industry preventing other centers and major areas from being transportation developed arteries to accommodate development

Provincial legislation of Section 37 in Ontario’s Planning Act

The City of Toronto’s Official Plan

Mid-1970s

Aims

Major stakeholders

Policy decision

Non-discrimination and commitment to absorbing refugees and producing multiculturalism. Also, attraction of skilled, educated and wealthy human capital

Federal Government

Outcomes

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TABLE 8.1 (cont.)

Policy decision

Period

Legislate the 2005 Provincial Places to Grow and Green Belt Acts

Aims Providing a vision for the Greater Golden Horseshoe in 2031, planning and managing regional growth, advocating a compact and sustainable pattern of development

Major stakeholders Provincial Government and local municipalities

Outcomes Direct effect on local decisions for developers, whose investments are channeled to existing centers

in your backyard’ (Interview with developer 2010). The relaxation of zoning laws and a planning focus on design (that permits mixed land use development with the stipulation that streetscapes be preserved) – particularly in designated growth centers, avenues and the downtown – has facilitated the gentrification and privatization of urban life via the building of high density condominiums. While the condo development of the 1970s was low-rise and sporadically distributed, by the new millennium development had become more confined and directed by intensification policies that were eventually written into Toronto’s Official Plan (City of Toronto 2002). General density trends show an indisputable concentration of development in growth centers (most notably the downtown and waterfront, Eglinton-Yonge centre and North York centre) and along transit corridors (specifically along Yonge Street, Toronto’s main north-south street which also harbors an underground subway system).The addition of new subway stations along the inner suburban arterials in the 1990s (e.g. the Downsview Subway Station), and the Sheppard ‘stubway’ Line of the early 2000s, has led to condo development at Sheppard Avenue and Allen Road and at Bayview Avenue and Sheppard Avenue respectively. Density ‘bonusing’ (also known as bonus zoning, impact fees, linked development, community benefit agreements) is the practice of allowing developers additional density/height above the zoning law’s sanctioned limits in return for providing the city with key infrastructure (or cash in lieu of such infrastructure). It is a mechanism by which the City encourages high density forms of intensification, and is achievable, realistically, only through condo development (Devine 2008; Moore 2012; Rosen and Walks 2014). Density bonusing is legally sanctioned by Section 37 of the Ontario Planning Act. Between 2007–11, the City of Toronto entered into 157 Section 37 agreements, almost 90  per cent of which were for residential development. Through such agreements the City secured from developers cash contributions totaling Can$136  million, as well as in-kind benefits. These agreements, however, concentrate geographically in the urban districts of North York and the Downtown, wards that have experienced the greatest property development

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FIGURE  8.3 Neo-liberal urban landscapes in Toronto are dominated by corporate headquarters buildings, gated communities and condominiums. Source: the authors.

over the last two decades (Moore 2013a, 2013b). This potentially increases spatial inequalities by distributing money to what are already the fastest growing areas of the city (Hulchanski 2010). Condominium development is, therefore, increasingly sought out for the public benefits that it can provide, and which the City has in turn increasingly become dependent on. This practice provides a direct link between the rise of condo-ism and neo-liberalization of city policy – by reconstructing the way public goods are derived, funded and redistributed, both socially and spatially. A ruling of the Ontario Municipal Board (OMB) – the quasi-judicial body created by the Province of Ontario to hear challenges to planning decision – relating to the case of Minto (an influential land developer, builder and management company) provides a lens on the property-led dynamics in the city. The OMB is often viewed as a body that leans towards the enabling of development, and limiting the abilities of the municipalities to control land use. A president of Minto explained that while local councilors ‘have the power’ to restrict development, developers can count on the OMB to ‘protect’ their interests. Using the example of the Minto-Midtown development of two condo-towers at Yonge Street and Eglinton Avenue East, he said: The land was zoned for two 20-storey buildings of about 450,000 square feet … and we took them on.We got a million square feet, [spread across] 54- and

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39-storey buildings … We had a lot of people fighting us at this site … [This] was the most important decision by the Tribunal [OMB] in 30 years to shape the future of Toronto because the ‘nimby-ists’ and politicians tried to keep us down. (Interview 2010) Minto provided cash contributions of Can$1.2 million to be used for social housing and Can$200,000 toward provision of a connection to the transit system. In a way the OMB’s decision (Order Number 1263) has set the foundations for a ‘new deal’ era for condo development in the city. As long as these new game rules are observed – i.e. development occurs in designated growth centers and is accompanied by appropriate local community planning/amenity gains – intensification (and gentrification) has been allowed to continue Other municipal policies serve to reinforce preferences for urban intensification, with downtowns as the scene of development. Development charges – one time fees covering the condominium development’s associated infrastructure costs (Nelson 1988; Tomalty and Skaburskis 1997; Lampert 2002; Burge et al. 2007) – are generally lower in the cities than in the suburbs, augmenting the preference for condo construction in dense urban settings (Rosen and Walks 2014). Federal government policy likewise supports condo-ism in the form of immigration policies that favor large streams of educated and wealthy foreigners. This serves to funnel large numbers of cash-rich newcomers into the large cities, creating a ripe condo-market in the process (Olds 1998; Ley 2003). These immigration policies, in tandem with more general globalization trends, effectively act as Canada’s urban population policy (Ley and Hiebert 2001; Boudreau et al. 2009). Immigrants, who since the 1970s have been mainly from the developing nations, tend to concentrate in areas with high earning employment opportunities. Under financialized capitalism these opportunities are increasingly located in the urban core. Immigrants are housed in Toronto’s condominium housing stock in disproportionate numbers (58 per cent, versus 43 per cent of Toronto’s population). And as another developer explained, some immigrants are used to the condo form in their respective home countries, and are therefore further attracted to the condo’s familiarity, A lot of immigrants come from the Far East and are very much used to high-rise … they don’t think twice before lining up for an apartment building that won’t be delivered for three or four years, whereas native Canadians can go: ‘Oh I never buy off plan.’ (Interview with developer, 2010) One reason for the disproportionately high numbers of immigrants in Toronto’s condo buildings is that many of the units are rented. Some are looking for a high quality urban housing arrangement without the accompanying burden of a mortgage, i.e the rented condominium units close to the city centre are attractive. A developer commented on the immigration-condominium connection, ‘as long

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as immigration continues and immigration policy does not change, there will be demand [for condominiums]’ (Interview with developer, 2010). Buyer demand for condominiums is also related to changing lifestyles, household habits and preferences, including a growing appreciation of tolerance, diversity, density and urban amenities. Reflecting the changing demand trends, the condo market is often seen as being comprised of three clientèles; namely, retirees in the process of downsizing, young households taking a first step to eventually purchasing their own home (Hulchanski 1988; Skaburskis 1998), and young adults and families typically without children for the convenience of close proximity to places of employment, consumer amenities and social opportunities – all without the added bother of home maintenance (Rosen and Walks 2013). One developer argued that demand for accessible inner city locations is redirecting condo development to the core areas, which in turn promotes infill development and intensification.‘Our basic philosophy for high-rise condominium development is really simple:  along the waterfront, near a subway station, near a major mall, or on an exception basis near a major park’ (Interview with developer, 2010 – the park being referred to is High Park, designed by Frederik Law Olmstead and Toronto’s version of New  York’s Central Park). Another developer further highlighted the importance of transit corridors: ‘Our strategy is transit-oriented.We want to be 100 yards from a subway stop … we are going after a lifestyle where people are prepared to take public transit or walk’ (Interview with developer, 2010). Surveys of condo residents reinforce developers’ understanding of growing consumer demand for services and amenities that are associated with inner city living. Condo residents are significantly more prone to exhibit a preference for living near downtown areas, and for regarding their place of residence as an investment. Surveys also reveal condo residents – even after controlling for gender and tenure (homeownership) – to be six times more likely than non-condo residents to indicate a preference for privatization of public services (Rosen and Walks 2013). Condo development is producing a reorientation of urban life in the twenty-first century city, towards more privatized lifestyles, politics and intensified urban development patterns. With the growing impact of condo-ism on the city and its dwellers, private condo developers gain immense amounts of financial and political power (over land development, land use planning and policy, the redirecting of capital flows, financing the growth machine, etc.). Those who are knowledgeable about the financing of condominium development emphasize the high return on equity, and the ability to leverage capital received from pre-sales of condo-units. With the rise of condo-ism, the media has become ever-more dependent on advertising revenue from the condo sector, throwing into doubt the ability of the media to be truly objective. We’re in a sleazy world. You watch television advertising, it’s not always sincere. The worst advertising, the most hype, is in the condo business. Our newspapers, which are normally fairly objective, over the years have sold their soul to condo developers. (Gluskin 2012)

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Such a scenario is perhaps not surprising given the increasing importance of condominium development to the urban economies of large cities like Toronto. Providing jobs, sustaining livelihoods and whole ways of living, condo-ism can also be expected to involve a shift in the discourses through which development is understood and supported, and shifts in the power relations concerning how such a discourse is managed in public.

Condo-ism for a new urban lifestyle: new privatized and secured forms of tenure Urban forms and lifestyle experiences have undergone dramatic transformations in the last several decades, morphing from an industrially driven capitalism into a real-estate and consumer amenity-driven market that features chiseled cityscapes of modern residential and commercial skyscrapers. While the spatially separated, suburban and segregated gated community remains a highly salient form of neo-liberal (sub)urbanism (Walks 2006b; Peck 2011), we argue that a more important shift has been towards urban intensification and densification – but via new privatized and securitized forms of tenure. At the cusp of this remarkable urban transformation lies the condominium and strata tenure. ‘Condo-ism’ refers to both the processes of space production at particular locations within the city, as well as to the nexus between urban intensification policies, financialization and securitization practices which extend access to mortgage credit, emerging private developer interests and business models based on pre-sales  – economies that are increasingly dependent upon construction, and the shifting of power dynamics from the public to the private sector, and the increasing gentrification of the city. As condo-ism has wielded increasing power over urban development patterns and has become an integral part of the urban fabric – by providing jobs, public benefits and a whole new style of living – the sheer size and wealth of the developers has given them increasing control over both the urban development process and, in turn, the condo narrative. Condo-ism has clearly served as an agent of urban redevelopment and transformation, regardless of its potential drawbacks – particularly vis-à-vis transparency and social equity, and the uncertainty as to whether ‘condo-mania’ might continue its inexorable conquest of the urban landscape. But while all this has translated into an urban resurgence, the boom has not been experienced equally by all urban residents. The linking of public benefits to intensified property development translates into a reduced provision of public amenities and infrastructure for neighbourhoods that are not undergoing development. It also accentuates disparities between urban residents of different socioeconomic strata. Condo-ism thus functions as a key mode of development – producing new privatized and securitized ways of life in the city, which in turn heighten urban segregation and polarization processes. These function similarly to, but without the visible markers of, gated subdivisions. The rise of condo-ism portends new forms of the ‘fortress city’ characterized by private high rise neighbourhoods differentiated by

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class, level of security and other social variables (particularly degree of rental/landlordism, but also immigration status, age, race, etc). A key question going forward is not whether condo-ism will continue, but how it might be reoriented towards more socially just ends.

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McKenzie, E. (2011) Beyond Privatopia: Rethinking Private Residential Government. Washington DC: Urban Institute Press Manzi, T. and Smith-Bowers, B. (2005) ‘Gated Communities as club goods: Segregation or social cohesion?’ in Housing Studies, vol. 20, no. 2: 345–59 Moore, A. (2012) ‘Trading Density for Benefits: Toronto and Vancouver Compared.’ IMFG Paper on Municipal Finance and Governance No. 13. Toronto: Institute on Municipal Finance and Governance, Munk School of Global Affairs, University of Toronto. Moore, A. (2013a) Planning Politics in Toronto:  The Ontario Municipal Board and Urban Development. Toronto: University of Toronto Press Moore, A. (2013b) Trading Density for Benefits: Section 37 Agreements in Toronto., University of Toronto: Institute on Municipal Finance and Governance Moriarty, M. J. (1973–74) ‘A comparison of United States and foreign condominiums’ in St. John’s Law Review, vol. 48, no. 4: 1011–27 Nelson, C. A. (1988) ‘Development impact fees’ in Journal of the American Planning Association, vol. 54, no. 1: 3–6 Nelson, R. (2005) Private Neighborhoods and the Transformation of Local Government.,Washington, DC: Urban Institute Press Olds, K. (1998) ‘Globalization and urban change: tales from Vancouver via Hong Kong’ in Urban Geography, vol. 19, no. 4: 360–85 Peck, J. (2010) Constructions of Neoliberal Reason. New York: Oxford University Press Peck, J. (2011) ‘Neoliberal suburbanism:  Frontier space’ in Urban Geography, vol. 32, no. 6: 884–919 Pow, C. P. (2009) ‘Public intervention, private aspiration:  Gated communities and the condominisation of housing landscapes in Singapore’ in Asia Pacific Viewpoint, vol. 50, no. 2: 215–27 Rosen, G., and Walks, A. (2013) ‘Rising cities: Condominium development and the private transformation of the metropolis’ in Geoforum, vol. 49: 160–72 Rosen, G., and Walks, A. (2014) ‘Castles in Toronto’s sky: Condo-ism and urban transformation’ in Journal of Urban Affairs. DOI: 10.1111/juaf.12140 Scott, A. J. (2011) ‘Emerging cities of the third wave’ in City, vol. 15: 289–321 Skaburskis, A. (1998) ‘The nature of Canadian condominium submarkets and their effect on the evolving urban spatial structure’ in Urban Studies, vol. 25, no. 2: 109–23 Smith, N. (1984) Uneven Development:  Nature, Capital, and the Production of Space. New York: Basil Blackwell Tomalty, R. and Skaburskis, A. (1997) ‘Negotiating development charges in Ontario: Average cost versus marginal cost pricing of services’ in Urban Studies, vol. 34, no. 12: 1987–2002 Walks, A. (2001) ‘The social ecology of the post-Fordist/global city? Economic restructuring and socio-spatial polarization in the Toronto urban region’ in Urban Studies, vol. 38, no. 3: 407–47 Walks, A. (2006a) ‘The causes of city-suburban political polarization: A Canadian case study’ in Annals of the Association of American Geographers, vol. 96, no. 2: 390–414 Walks, A. (2006b) ‘Aestheticization and the cultural contradictions of neoliberal (sub)urbanism’ in Cultural Geographies, vol. 13, no. 3: 466–75 Walks, A. (2011) ‘Economic Restructuring and Trajectories of Socio-Spatial Polarization in the Twenty-First Century Canadian City’ in L. S. Bourne, T. Hutton, R. Shearmur and J. Simmons (eds) Canadian Urban Regions: Trajectories of Growth and Change. USA:  Oxford University Press: 125–59 Walks, A. (2013) ‘Mapping the urban debtscape:  The geography of household debt in Canadian cities’ in Urban Geography, vol. 34, no. 2: 153–87

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Warner, E. M. (2011) ‘Club goods and local government’ in Journal of the American Planning Association, vol. 77, no. 2: 155–66 Webster, C. (2002) ‘Property rights and the public realm: gates, green belts, and Gemeinschaft’ in Environment and Planning B, vol. 29, no. 3: 397–412 Webster, C. and Le Goix, R. (2005) ‘Planning by commonhold’ in Economic Affairs, vol. 25, no. 4: 19–23 Webster, C., Glasze, G. and Frantz, K. (2002) ‘The global spread of gated communities’ in Environment and Planning B, vol. 29, no. 3: 315–20

9 URBAN GATING IN ISRAEL Home gating practices on kibbutzim and moshavim Guy Fayel1

Introduction The last two decades have witnessed a growing global debate on gated communities. Although there have been some local manifestations of this phenomenon in Israel, there has been relatively little public discussion of the topic. The emergence of contemporary urban enclaves in Israel began in the late 1990s and early 2000s, with the proliferation of new leisure-oriented gated communities and retirement villages (Rosen and Razin 2009). However, as Rosen and Razin (2008) emphasize, rather than being new, gating practices and patterns of spatial segregation have been part of the Israeli landscape since the establishment of the state. From self-contained Orthodox Jewish communities and isolated Bedouin villages, to enclosed community settlements, ethnic, religious and national rifts in Israeli society have led to the creation of homogeneous neighbourhoods and communities, often distinct and separate from their larger environments. In addition, other factors such as the Arab-Israeli conflict have promoted the fortification of settlements in frontier areas, including the use of various security and surveillance practices. One such case of a traditional form of gated community is that of the cooperative rural settlements, known as kibbutzim and moshavim (‘kibbutz’ and ‘moshav’ in the singular). These ‘ideological enclaves’, to use Rosen and Razin’s (2009) term, share many features of the gated community, but unlike the contemporary neo-liberal model they mostly evolved from ideological concepts and were organized according to collectivist principles. Over the last 30 years, the kibbutz and the moshav have been undergoing processes of transition as new populations with divergent values have entered such communities, which have increasingly adopted the characteristics of the market-driven gated community. One of the most interesting manifestations of this slow and

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multifaceted process is the adaptation of exclusion strategies and practices – from the macro-level of the neighbourhood or community, down to the micro-level of the private home. As part of this process, homeowners in kibbutzim and moshavim increasingly choose to construct walls and fences around their homes and adopt various other privacy and security measures, such as intercom systems, CCTV cameras and the erection of warning signs.The use of these gating practices, this chapter argues, often reproduces the cosmological order of the gated community at home, and serves to transform each house into a type of a small-scale, autonomous gated community of its own. One of the attractions of gated communities, other than the promise of security, is the sense of shared community. For this reason, it is rare to find the use of gating practices inside the gated community, except in cases where individual walls and gates preceded the construction of the peripheral enclosure – as is the case in many Latin American countries (Arreola 1988, Caldeira 1996). Accordingly, Bagaeen and Uduku (2010: 2) argue that ‘the sustainability of the gated community, as a physical and ideological urban design concept, depends on the ability to maintain barriers between those within the gates and those without, both physically and psychologically’. They leave open the question of what happens when the walled boundaries of the gated community are breached and the threatening outside world penetrates. The influx of new populations to the enclosed rural settlements, and the manifestations of gating practices inside these already-gated and secured communities, present just this case. It is important to recognize that the construction of walls around one’s house is rarely an incidental or unintended action. The construction of cement walls around a house is a complex and expensive endeavour involving tedious bureaucratic procedures. Therefore, this chapter will focus mainly on homeowners who have decided to add walls around an existing house at substantial cost. In these cases, the construction of fences and walls were a conscious and wilful action that constituted a meaningful expression of change in the local community and a redefinition of local boundaries. This chapter is based on ethnographic fieldwork conducted between 2011–13 on six moshavim and kibbutzim in central and northern Israel, including open interviews with members and participant-observation study. It examines the rise in gating practices in these communities and the ways in which the built environment, and especially the construction of walls and fences, is used as a means to negotiate and redefine the traditional boundaries between private and public spaces. This chapter is part of a larger, ongoing research project headed by Nurit Bird-David, entitled ‘Personhood at Home: An ethnographic exploration of home-production in middle-class  Israeli consumer culture’, and which is supported by the Israeli Science Foundation (Grant No. 560/09). The project examines houses as ethnographic sites for studying ontological senses of person and family in a middle-class consumer society.

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New geographies of gating: the rural settlements In 2013 there were 267 kibbutzim and 442 moshavim in Israel, holding a combined population of about 450,000 (Central Bureau of Statistics 2013). Many of these communal rural settlements were established as part of the Zionist project in the early twentieth century, and as part of the Jewish national struggle for the acquisition of the land. The kibbutzim and moshavim symbolized socialist ideals and were based on the collective and egalitarian values of mutual aid and cooperation (Sherman 1993). Although both settlement types shared many features – including a cooperative and communal framework – they also differed markedly. While the kibbutz started as a utopian community – i.e. as a highly cooperative society based on collective ownership of property – the moshav presented a more conservative alternative by attempting to mitigate these cooperative social desires and synthesize them with private enterprise (Chyutin and Chyutin 2007). As such, the moshav was organized as a cooperative smallholder settlement, allotting each household a separate farming plot. The cooperative element was manifested mainly in arrangements of mutual aid and an egalitarian division of means, and organized cooperative marketing (Sofer and Applebaum 2006). The collective ideology and self-contained nature of these communities – as well as the security considerations originating from their frontier roles – led many of these settlements to adopt various exclusion and screening practices. Most are physically enclosed, surrounded by a fence and accessed only by one entrance gate that is often controlled at night by security guards. In addition, these settlements often apply various institutional and social screening mechanisms to help sort the acceptance of new members. These mechanisms include formal and informal admission practices that allow these communities to accept only those deemed socially and ideologically fit to be part of it (Charney and Palgi 2013a). Over the last 30 years, the kibbutzim and moshavim have been undergoing a major transition which has diminished their ideological and collective characteristics, reducing the disparity between them and the market-driven gated communities often described in scholarly literature. The economic crisis of the 1980s, and the drop in institutional support following the end of the three-decade reign of the Labour Party in 1977, resulted in enormous debts that threatened the continued existence of many of the rural settlements (Near 1997, Sofer and Applebaum 2006). In addition, the decline in the prestige and profitability of agriculture, along with the diminishing socialistic ethos and collective ideology, led many of the younger generation to migrate to the cities. During the 1990s, and in order to compete with these economic and demographic crises, many kibbutzim chose to undergo a process of privatization and adopt the model of the ‘renewed’ kibbutz – which replaces the egalitarian values of the traditional kibbutz in favour of market-driven ones. As part of this process, members’ earnings were privatized, leading to transition from equal kibbutz wages for all members to differential salaries (Russell et al. 2013). In addition, and as a result of the privatization, members were given ownership of their houses and were now able to renovate them to their liking or even build them anew (Burmil and Enis 2011).

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By the early 1990s, following real estate pressures and an immediate need for available housing, the Israeli government made a precedent-setting decision – permitting moshavim to rezone former agricultural lands for residential use (Israel Land Authority 1992). This decision, which was later broadened to include kibbutzim as well, led to dramatic changes in the rural parts of Israel and specifically in the cooperative settlements around the country. During the late 1990s and early 2000s, many settlements added residential expansion neighbourhoods in order to attract new residents and improve their dire financial and demographic situation.The introduction of these new neighbourhoods has altered the appearance of the settlements considerably. While the original layout of the rural settlements had been carefully planned to both reflect and serve communal and cooperative identities, the new neighbourhoods were built according to suburban ideals and often expressed middle class planning values (Yaski and Bar Or 2010).The new sections of the kibbutzim and moshavim resemble suburban neighbourhoods, with highly developed infrastructure and lots averaging 500 square metres in size and on which single-family detached homes were erected. The demand for housing in the rural settlements in Israel correlates with other counter-urbanization processes of urban to rural migration that have occurred in Europe and North America (Charney and Palgi 2013b). Generally speaking, those who choose to move to these neighbourhoods are ‘young couples with children, with relatively high education and white-collar occupations, whose main aim is to improve their quality of life’ (Sofer and Applebaum 2006: 331). For most, the move is made not for ideological reasons, but rather to fulfil the dream of a home in the countryside (Glass 2008). The disparity between the built environment of the traditional parts of the rural settlements and the newer attached expansion neighbourhoods is often quite striking. The luxurious houses of the expansion neighbourhood embody and express values of individuality, privacy and separation, and stand in stark contrast to the homes of the traditional settlement – which still carry the residues of their collective past. Walls and fences, as well as other forms of gating and exclusion practices, are prevalent in these neighbourhoods, as the houses reproduce the defensive architecture typical of the gated community. Impervious walls and tall fences separate the house from the street; threatening signs caution against invasion of private property or notify of the existence of guard dogs and alarm systems; intercom panels on steel gates screen and monitor visitors; and high-tech security cameras are purposefully set up to be visible from the street. The high walls to the front of houses often connect to each other, creating an endless-looking wall that gives the street the appearance of a long corridor. Like the stairwell of an apartment building, the street loses its essence as a domain of public life and becomes a liminal site of void and motion; a transitional space which is ‘neither here nor there’, but rather ‘betwixt and between’ (Turner 1969: 95). Although more prominent in the newer residential expansion neighbourhoods, the gating process is not limited to these sections. The influence of the gating practices in the newer sections can increasingly be observed in the traditional parts of

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FIGURE 9.1 A house in the residential expansion. Source: Guy Fayel, 2013.

the rural settlements, where more and more homeowners choose to invest both time and money on constructing high walls and fences around their homes and adopt other practices and strategies of privacy. This phenomenon is currently more prevalent on moshavim, where fences (mainly hedges and short picket fences) were sometimes used in the past to demarcate members’ plots and prevent animals from entering. However, the recent shifts which have taken place on the kibbutzim – such as the privatization of house allocation and ownership rights, coupled with the emergence of fences and walls around new and renovated houses on the traditional kibbutz (Karniel and Churchman 2012) – point to the start of the same fortification processes taking place on kibbutzim.

Urban gating: structures and processes In contemporary Western society the home is usually portrayed as a shelter, a haven of privacy disconnected from the public sphere. At the same time, however, the home is never truly separate from society. Located in the midst of the public sphere, the home is always subjected to the regulating efforts of the community. These efforts are usually expressed at the exterior of the house, in the liminal spaces of the balconies and yards, as well as at the windows and entrances that lead into the house. These efforts can be seen, for example, in the American middle-class suburban neighbourhoods, where homeowners are often expected to maintain their houses in good order, keep outer walls freshly painted, and lawns and shrubs neatly trimmed. Failing to abide by these requirements leaves homeowners facing social and legal sanctions (Lang and Danielsen 1997).

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These regulating efforts are most prominent in the liminal border zones of the house  – at balconies, yards and porches, where public and private spaces collide. Describing the liminal character of the balcony, Aronis (2009) argues that it serves as ‘an intermediary zone between the private and the public’. As such, this area is often characterized by a ‘dual belonging’: on the one hand, it belongs to the homeowner, but at the same time, it also ‘belongs’ to the community and to the street since it is located (visually at least) in the public sphere and influences public conduct. It is at the same time both public and private. Aronis’s claims regarding the balcony can also be applied to the front yard. Like the balcony, the front yard serves as a liminal border zone in which the public space of the street and the private sphere of the house conflate. This unique embeddedness in the public space turns the exterior of the house into a medium of communication between the home and the street, as well as between the homeowner and the community. To use Goffman’s (1959) dramaturgical metaphors, the openly displayed exterior parts of the house act as its ‘front stage’. Like theatrical masks worn to create a designated impression, the public character of these areas allows homeowners to express and communicate various claims regarding their identity. They act as arenas of communication and impression management, allowing residents both to see and to be seen. Sitting outside becomes a communicative act and often serves as an invitation to others. Traditionally, in the rural settlements, the areas adjacent to the house served an important role. Without air conditioning and televisions, it was customary for people to sit outside their homes and interact with other members of the community. The lack of fences and walls highlighted the public character of such areas and promoted casual encounters between members of the community. In the past, those who sat outside their doors encountered mostly familiar faces, mainly due to the exclusion features of the rural settlement which served to limit the entrance of outsiders into the community. However, the expansion neighbourhoods introduced new populations and brought many strangers to the kibbutzim and moshavim. These newcomers, many of whom have come from urban backgrounds, were often ignorant of local norms and customs, as well as of the subtle spatial cues which served to demarcate private and public boundaries in the community. Thus, the old communal settlement was no longer the same exclusive space of the community. It ceased to be a familiar and organized sphere, but rather became an urban-like space filled with ‘threatening’ strangers. With the entry of new populations into the rural settlements, the traditional lack of spatial boundaries between the private sphere and the public space became a source of anxiety. This feeling was further heightened by the newcomers’ popular practice of going for ‘power walks’ in the evenings. The new population did not limit itself to the area of the expansion neighbourhood, but started appearing on the doorsteps of the older houses, which were often unfenced. Many informants complained about the large volume of pedestrian traffic that had developed outside their homes; as well as the frequent gazes of passers-by, which prevented them from comfortably using their own front yards. In the words of Tamir,2 a married kibbutz member in his thirties living in the traditional part of the settlement:

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I love to sit outside and read the newspaper with a cup of coffee. But people always go by, whether on foot or by car, and stare at me. It feels as if they are invading my privacy. It’s my home, not the beach. I want my peace and quiet. I want to sit in private but outside. I want my privacy to extend to the front yard as well. Passers-by rarely physically enter a house’s territorial space; neither do they pose any threat in the traditional ‘fear of crime’ sense of the word.The sorting procedures and strict admittance criteria of non-members has limited the acceptance of newcomers mainly to a homogeneous group of secular, middle-class, Jewish families who are deemed ‘compatible’ with the community (Charney and Palgy 2013a). But by looking at the front yard, as well as into the house itself through the various windows and entrances, newcomers are perceived to threaten the sense of privacy and undermine Tamir’s and other members’ feeling of control. These involuntary and unintended acts of trespass turn these areas into alienated sites of disorder and uncertainty. The absence of privacy and the invading gaze of passers-by limit the usage of these territories to practices of impression management, and to what Colomina (2007: 168) refers to as ‘a public representation of conventional domesticity’. In his book, Geographies of exclusion, Sibley (1995: 33) argues that: for the individual or group socialized into believing that the separation of categories is necessary or desirable, the liminal zone is a source of anxiety. It is a zone of abjection, one which should be eliminated in order to reduce anxiety. By building a wall or raising a fence around their territory, homeowners do just that. They ‘emancipate’ their yard for private use and significantly reduce the liminal intermediate zones between public and private spaces. Thus, the built environment is used as means to negotiate and redefine the spatial boundaries in the community. The walls and fences serve to stabilize the formerly ambiguous, lucid boundaries.The front yard no longer serves as a liminal border zone, but rather as a private space that is separated from the street by a wall or a fence. This is illustrated nicely in Sarah’s account. Sarah, a divorcée in her fifties who has been living on a moshav for the past 30 years, has recently built a high wall outside her home. This has turned the yard into an inseparable part of her home’s private space. ‘When I enter my yard and close the gate behind me I feel at home,’ she explains. ‘I feel as if I can freely take my clothes off . In the past I used to start undressing only after I closed the front door, but now I actually start shedding my clothes after I pass the gate.’ Walking naked around the house is something most people only allow themselves to do when they are certain that they cannot be seen and have complete privacy. Thus, the extension of the ‘nude zone’ into the front yard can be seen as an expression of this feeling of privacy. Returning to Goffman’s (1959) dramaturgical metaphor, the gated front yard turns into a ‘back stage’ – a sheltered informal area in which the individual can privately relax without being exposed to the gaze of the outside world.

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It is, of course, not enough to put a low walled barrier or a barbed wire fence around the house. It takes a high wall or fence to block the invading gaze of passers-by and reclaim the yard as part of the private sphere of the home. These walls and fences often act as ‘symbolic objects of meaning-making’ (Kotchemidova 2008) since they serve to redefine the legitimate act of looking at the yard as an illegitimate act of peeping (even in cases where the wall is low enough to allow this). The walls thus convey, in a very physical felt-in-the-body sort of way, the border between the private and the public spaces. Paradoxically, the walls work in synchronization with another architectural feature of the house  – large panoramic windows. These windows often expose the domestic space of the home to the eyes of the outside world, and therefore constitute a seemingly opposing practice to that of the walls and fences. However, the large windows work in synchronization with these features: the walls and fences conceal the yard and fortify the private sphere, while the panoramic windows lessen the separation between the interior of the house and the territories directly adjacent to it. Thus, the private area is expanded beyond the physical boundaries of the house and into the yard. The yard becomes another room in the house – connected (visually) via the large windows to the other rooms, but separated from the outside world by impervious walls and fences. In order to complete this transformation of the yard, flowers and ornamental trees are planted along the interior facade of the wall, mitigating the alienating character of the fortified walls and turning the yard into a serene, pastoral retreat from the world. The built environment in the rural settlements begins to reflect the same ‘unreckoned fear of exposure’ which, according to Sennett (1990:  xii), characterizes the modern city. ‘Exposure,’ he explains, ‘more connotes the likelihood of being hurt than of being stimulated.’ Unlike the controlled space of the private sphere, the public space is perceived as belonging to ‘the Other’, who transforms it into a threatening arena of disorder and lack of control. In the gated community, the gating practice symbolizes the separation between ‘Us’ and ‘the Other’ – the members of the community, on the one hand, and the disorder of the outside world, on the other. However, the prevalence of gating practices inside the already-gated community – as evidenced by the use of walls and fences around the houses of the rural settlements – suggest that the disorder is no longer perceived as being limited only to the borders of the community. To a large extent, the walls around the houses redefine the category of ‘the Other’ and apply it to all those outside the narrow household group. Even neighbours, who were once considered part of the community, are increasingly seen as strangers since they have also come to represent the disorder and uncertainty of the outside world. Accordingly, many informants complained about the ‘neighbours’ eyes’ and the ways in which they felt their neighbours were encroaching on their privacy. Such was the case with Yossi, a veteran moshav member who had recently erected a high concrete wall in front of his house. ‘I don’t think I owe anybody an explanation for the mess I have in my yard,’ he told me. ‘This way is much more comfortable. I have my privacy; my own corner. People no longer invade my yard, you understand? I live with my own mess and it’s nobody’s business.’

FIGURE  9.2 Houses in the traditional part of a moshav. In both cases the walls were added to existing houses which previously had an open façade. Source: Guy Fayel, 2013.

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By enclosing the yard with a wall, homeowners are granted almost complete control over their territory. One of the main expressions of this new-found freedom is often described as the ability to leave one’s yard in a state of disarray.Yossi’s front yard is a good example of this. The unmowed lawn is strewn with toys and garden tools. In the middle of the yard stands a white plastic table covered with old newspapers, an overflowing ashtray and over half a dozen coffee mugs left over from previous days.This mess, more than anything else, symbolizes Yossi’s (and other members’) freedom from the policing gaze of the community and the perpetual need for impression management. Interestingly, the respective meaning of order and disorder reverses in the transition between public and private space. In the public sphere, order is often seen as increasing the individual’s sense of control; while disorder reduces it and increases anxiety. In the private space of the home, however, these attributes reverse, since order and organization come to signify the individual’s lack of control and subjection to others, while disorder – or more accurately, the freedom to disarray – symbolizes the emancipation of the individual and their control over their own space. Blocking the front yard from view, the walls negate its communicative function. Sitting outside one’s home is no longer a social act, but rather a private practice limited to the individual and those they choose to let in. The walls reduce the frequency of spontaneous encounters between members of the community and limit them mostly to scheduled meetings. ‘Stopping by’, or visiting without prior notice – a common practice in Israel’s informal culture, and particularly on the kibbutzim and moshavim – is increasingly seen as inappropriate. While in the past one could just ‘stop by without invitation or reason’, as Rachel (Yossi’s wife) explains, ‘it is no longer acceptable. Today if you want to go to the neighbour, you need a reason.’ Yossi adds: ‘It’s not like in our parents’ time when everything was open – “come when you like and go when you like” – Today, you can’t just go and knock on someone’s door if you don’t call before.’ The decline in social interactions leads to a growing feeling of alienation and a decrease in social capital. Many informants lamented such changes and the ‘urban mentality’ that has started to permeate the moshav and the kibbutz.‘They send a message of “stay out of my space and I’ll stay out of yours”,’ claims Yossi (describing the luxurious gated houses of the expansion neighbourhood). ‘It’s an urban mentality, very different than that of the moshav. I’m willing to bet that some of these people actually built their walls before they even started building their houses.’ The once collective and communal rural settlements increasingly now adopt what Baumgartner (1988: 10) refers to as moral minimalism – a term she uses to describe the ‘culture of avoidance’ in American middle-class suburban neighbourhoods. These neighbourhoods, she contends, are spatially and socially organized around strategies of conflict aversion and social control. Conflicts and confrontation are often prevented from arising, she explains, ‘because [the layout] keeps unacquainted people away from one another to a degree not seen in cities, reducing the sorts of friction likely to arise in face-to-face encounters’ (p. 101). The original layout of the rural communities was often the result of careful ‘top-down’ planning

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processes (Chyutin and Chyutin 2007) that were consciously designed to reflect and support members’ participation in each other’s lives, and enhance the collective and communal character of such settlements. The forming ‘gated landscape’ of the houses over the last few years, however, is a result of bottom-up processes of appropriation and a redefinition of space and boundaries. The construction of walls and fences around their houses allows members to retreat to the confines of their homes in order to avoid friction and confrontation with others in the community, thereby enabling them to adopt the same ‘culture of avoidance’ described by Baumgartner. No discussion of gated communities, walls or fences, would be complete without taking into account the security aspect of the phenomenon. As mentioned earlier, rural settlements in Israel are often enclosed by perimeter fences. Many of the settlements close their gates at night and employ security guards to patrol the area. These communities are considered safe for the most part since the threat of crime in such settlements consists mainly of sporadic incidents of burglary and theft. In fact, until recent years it was quite customary for members in both kibbutzim and moshavim to leave their doors open throughout the day and unlocked at night. Although the rise in break-ins over the last decade has persuaded many members to start locking their doors and install alarm systems, old habits are often hard to change. Such was the case with Galit, a member of a moshav in central Israel, who laughed as she relayed the story of how their house had never been broken into. When it eventually did happen, it occurred only a couple of months after they had finished constructing a high and impenetrable fence around their property. But although the house was surrounded, both the front door and the entrance gate had been left unlocked. It is tempting to ascribe the rise in construction of high walls and fences to security concerns, as well as to feelings of fear. Gated communities are often seen as a response to a rising fear of crime (Blakely and Snyder 1998; Atkinson and Blandy 2006). The walls and gates of these fortified enclaves are said to offer their residents a sense of increased safety both from crime and from the unknown ‘Other’. As often happens in such small communities, news of a burglary quickly spreads and becomes the ‘talk of the town’. Indeed, many of my informants pointed to the rise in break-ins and theft as a reason for the construction of fences and walls. Yet although these fortification elements often serve to increase the owner’s sense of security, and although most of the walls are indeed high and apparently impervious, a more thorough examination reveals that many have been constructed in a way that offers only partial protection – often concealing the front of the house, but leaving its sides and rear exposed. In such cases the wall can be bypassed easily from the side or via a neighbour’s property. It can be deduced, then, that these partial walls were erected not to fortify and protect the house, but rather as a practice of creating privacy and separating it from the street and the gaze of passers-by. It is important to remember that fences and walls often serve as symbolic meaning-making objects rather than as impenetrable barriers (Kotchemidova 2008). As such, they are more effective against those who abide by social rules and less so against those determined to invade any individual house. Granted, the imposing walls – along with the various other security practices such as CCTV cameras and

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alarm systems – have a deterrent effect. But at the same time they also transfer the risk of ‘invasion’ to adjoining houses that do not employ such practices. Thus, the fortification of one’s own house can be viewed as a practice of risk transference, i.e increasing the risk to other houses in the community, and thereby raising the chances that neighbouring homeowners will also choose to construct walls. Moreover, the construction of walls and the privatization of risk management within a community often acts, paradoxically, to turn the street into a less safe place to live since the walls reduce the number of ‘eyes upon the street’ – to use Jacobs’ (1961) famous quote – and weaken the supervising gaze of the community. The high walls and fences not only block the house from the street, they also obscure the view of the street from the house. Unobserved, the street becomes an unfamiliar site of uncertainty and lack of control, fulfilling the same fears that originally spurred the construction of the walls in the first place. Thus, in a classic case of the prisoner’s dilemma, the attempt of each homeowner to improve their individual sense of security results in an overall decrease in the security of all houses in the settlement.

Conclusion: beyond the walls In her opening remarks at the Israeli Landscape Architects Association’s conference on gating, Tsurnamal (2005) observed that fences have become an increasingly dominant feature of the Israeli landscape, and argued that a transformation in the spatial formation is often the result of a change in the cultural and political structures that produced it.Thus, she concluded, conceptual changes are responsible for both the construction of fences and the tearing down of walls. Accordingly, in the case of rural settlements in Israel, the traditional built environment of these communities was shaped by collective ideology. However, over the last 30  years these settlements have undergone major social, ideological and structural transitions, which include a change of values in these communities along with the admission of diverse new populations. To a large extent, the rise in individual gating practices in these communities is a result of this process, since the built environment in the rural settlements increasingly reflects changes in the cultural and ideological structures of the rural communities and Israeli society at large. Thus, this case serves to illustrate the ways in which the built environment – and gating practices in particular – are embedded within wider networks of power and social relations.Yet the walls should not be seen as mere passive intermediaries in this process, since the spatial changes not only reflect these transformations, but rather serve to reinforce and perpetuate them. This process in turn brings about a unique, localized version of the gated community, one in which every house serves as its own microcosmic gated community – of gating within the gated community. To a large extent the aim of this book has been to move away from a static notion of gated communities and towards a more dynamic conceptualization of gating as a process. Following this approach, this chapter attempted to go beyond the level of the neighbourhood or community, and explore the use of gating practices as

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ongoing agential processes enacted at the level of the private home. In doing so it sought to contribute to the growing literature and critical analysis of ‘gatedness’, defined by Dupuis and Thorns (2008: 147) as ‘a psychological response which results in and leads to a range of “forting up” behaviours that appear to share similar characteristics’. Dupuis and Thorns call for a paradigm shift from focusing on gated communities to exploring the ‘mentality of gatedness … and the growth in forting up practices in everyday life which are responses to increased levels of anxiety and risk’. Yet whereas they view gating mainly as a response to the post-modern abstract situation of increased risk and personal anxiety, the case of the kibbutz and the moshav, this chapter argued, is of neither risk nor fear but rather of the use of gating as means for the negotiation and redefinition of local social relations and spatial divisions.

Notes 1 2

This research was supported by The Israel Science Foundation (Grant No. 560/09). In addition, the author would like to thank Nurit Bird-David for her guidance, Igal Charney for his comments, and Carmia for her help and support. Informants’ names were altered to prevent identification and to protect their privacy.

References Aronis, C. (2009) ‘The balconies of Tel-Aviv:  cultural history and urban politics’ in Israel Studies, vol. 14: 157–60 Arreola, D. D. (1988) ‘Mexican American housescapes’ in Geographical Review, vol. 78: 299–315 Atkinson, R. and Blandy, S. (eds) (2006) Gated communities:  international perspectives. London: Routledge Bagaeen, S. and Uduku, O. (eds) (2010) Gated communities: social sustainability in contemporary and historical gated developments. London: Earthscan Baumgartner, M. P. (1988) The moral order of a suburb. Oxford: Oxford University Press Blakely, E. J. and Snyder, M. G. (1998) ‘Separate places: crime and security in gated communities’ in M. Felson and R. B. Peiser (eds) Reducing crime through real estate development and management. Washington, DC: Urban Land Institute Burmil, S. and Enis, R. (2011) The changing landscape of a utopia: the landscape and gardens of the kibbutz past and present. Wernersche Verlagsgesellschaft Caldeira, T. P. R. (1996) ‘Fortified enclaves: the new urban segregation’ in Public Culture, vol. 8: 303–28 Central Bureau of Statistics (2013) Statistical abstract of Israel 2013 – No.64. Jerusalem: Central Bureau of Statistics Charney, I. and Palgi, M. (2013a) ‘Sorting procedures in enclosed rural communities: Admitting “people like us” into renewing kibbutzim in northern Israel’ in Journal of Rural Studies, vol. 31: 47–54 Charney, I. and Palgi, M. (2013b) ‘Interpreting the repopulation of rural communities: the case of private neighbourhoods in kibbutzim’ in Population, Space Place, doi:  10.1002/ psp.1840

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Chyutin, M. and Chyutin, B. (2007) Architecture and utopia:  the Israeli experiment. Hampshire: Ashgate Publishing Colomina, B. (2007) Domesticity at war. Cambridge, Mass: MIT Press Dupuis, A. and Thorns, D. (2008) ‘Gated Communities as Exemplars of “Forting Up” Practices in a Risk Society’ in Urban Policy and Research, vol. 26, no. 2: 145–57 Glass, M. (2008) Together or seperately? The kibbutz and the expansion neighbourhood. Ramat Ef ’al: Yad Tabenkin [Hebrew] Goffman, E. (1959) The presentation of self in everyday life. Garden City, New York: Doubleday Israel Land Authority (1992) ‘Resolution no. 533 Regarding Agricultural Land Redesignated for another Purpose’, 11 May [Hebrew] Jacobs, J. (1961) The life and death of great American cities, New York: Random House. Karniel, T. and Churchman, A. (2012) The changing nature of spatial and architectural planning in the kibbutz as a reflection of its social and ideological transformation. Jerusalem: The Hebrew University [Hebrew] Kotchemidova, C. (2008) ‘The culture of the fence: artifacts and meanings’ in Counterblast – The Journal of Culture and Communication, vol. 2: 1–4 Lang, R. E. and Danielsen, K. A. (1997) ‘Gated communities in America:  walling out the world?’ in Housing Policy Debate, vol. 8, no. 4: 867–99 Near, H. (1997) The Kibbutz Movement:  a history. Vol. 2, crisis and achievement, 1939–1995. London: Vallentine Mitchell Rosen, G. and Razin, E. (2008) ‘Enclosed residential neighborhoods in Israel: from landscapes of heritage and frontier enclaves to new gated communities’ in Environment and Planning, vol. 40: 2895–913 Rosen, G. and Razin, E. (2009) ‘The rise of gated communities in Israel: reflections on changing urban governance in a neo-liberal era’ in Urban Studies, vol. 46: 1702–72 Russell, R., Hanneman, R. and Getz, S. (2013) The renewal of the kibbutz: from reform to transformation. Rutgers University Press Sennett, R. (1990) The conscience of the eye:  the design and social life of cities. New York: W.W. Norton Sherman, N. (1993) ‘Kibbutzim and moshavim: from ideological symbol to interest group’ in Ben-Zadok, E. (ed.) Local communities and the Israeli polity. Albany:  State University of New York Sibley, D. (1995) Geographies of exclusion: society and difference in the West. London: Routledge Sofer, M. and Applebaum, L. (2006) ‘The rural space in Israel in search of renewed identity: the case of the moshav’ in Journal of Rural Studies, vol. 22: 323–36 Taylor, R. B. and Brower, S. (1985) ‘Home and near-home territories’ in Altman, I. and Werner, C. M. (eds) Home Environments. New York: Plenum Press Tsurnamal, V. (2005) ‘On walls, fences and what lies between’, Paper presented at the Landscape Architects Association Conference, Israel Turner,V. (1969) The ritual process: structure and anti-structure. Chicago: Aldine Pub Yaski,Y. and Bar Or, G. (eds) (2010) Kibbutz, architecture without precedents. Tel Aviv: Top-Print

10 URBAN GATING IN PUEBLA, MEXICO An SOS for world solidarity and citizen empowerment Guadalupe María Milián Ávila1 and Michel Guenet2

Introduction Puebla, capital city of the state of the same name, holds fourth place in the Mexican urban context, due to its population of one-and-a-half million inhabitants, which reaches three million in its metropolitan zone (National Institute of Statistics and Geography, INEGI, 2005).This historic city, originally settled in 1531, was included in the list of UNESCO’s World Heritage Cities in 1987. Its territorial expansion has not been contained, especially during the last four decades. It has expanded into neighbouring towns and invaded community-owned agricultural lands (ejidos) whose family and common ownership was once only transferrable by bequest. This changed with the Agrarian Act of 1990, which facilitated the sub-division and sale of such lands (Jones and Ward 1998). The Municipal Sustainable Urban Development Programme for the city of Puebla estimated its area in 2005 to be 22,375 hectares. This trend of outward expansion takes shape as a chaotic and socially segregative urbanisation that has been led by the gated communities. Such communities account for the most of the residential growth of the city. From previous research conducted in 2000–01, and the publication Fragmentación socio-espacial y caos urbano, los vecindarios cerrados en la aglomeración de Puebla (Milián and Guenet, 2006), we showed in detail the social-spatial consequences that these residential forms are creating. Particularly on the outskirts, the absence of legislation and clear institutional regulations enable abusive appropriation of land with no consideration for its owners, for the natural environment, or anything in the way of well-ordered urbanisation. Based on a census of 912 gated communities in the city of Puebla, and its fringes, we proposed at the time a typology based on some of the urban and social impacts caused by these communities. Among the most relevant consequences of these enclaves are: the breakdown of the urban fabric, the interruption of roads and the disorienting effects of displacement.

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FIGURE 10.1 Gated communities in Puebla, 2013. Concept and Cartography: M. Guenet and G. Milián Ávila, 2013.

We warn of the increasing difficulty of neighbouring settlements to gain access to basic services since the gated communities are exclusive to their occupants (in Mexico 50 per cent of the settlements are irregular; that is, they are built without a formal plan (Iracheta 2013)). We therefore have questioned the violation of citizens’ rights resulting from the impediment of free transit and access to infrastructure for the residents, and through the sui generis regulations imposed by the managers of the irregular community residents, which have transformed into small fiefdoms over time. We argue that these processes operate as segregation mechanisms which serve to deepen inequality and the social disintegration of city. Figure 10.1 shows the 912 gated communities and their location within the city of Puebla. Milián and Guenet’s ‘Un mundo peligroso en el imaginario social’ (2010) presents the results – on another cognitive level – of a phenomenon we study more closely. That is, the changes taking place in gated community residents’ mental image of the space that occupies their lives (Frémont 1976). This image contrasts with that of the inhabitants of the surrounding areas. The application of the mind map concept (Lynch 1960; Gould and White 1974; Bailly 1977; 1989; Downs and Stea 1981; Tsoukala 2001; Chiappero 2002) to residents and inhabitants, and the interpretation of 80 drawings based on contributions from psychology by Jung (1971, 1973), Piaget and García (1984), Braden (2007) and Lipton (2005), give important indicators about the residents of gated communities. The majority of the 40 people interviewed (70 per cent) limited their living space (in their drawings) to the area inside the walls of their gated communities and did not know what urban elements made up the nearby surroundings. In contrast, the 40 inhabitants of the open areas who we surveyed represented broad sectors accompanied by various urban elements.The results allowed us to conclude that the mentality of the gated community inhabitants is creating a progressive lack of recognition of the ‘other’; that is, of the city and

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FIGURE 10.2

Mind map 1: El Pilar gated community, Puebla, 2008.

Source: author.

the other inhabitants of it. Figure 10.2 and Figure 10.3 are diagrammatic examples of the perceptions people have about gated and open communities, with respondents asked to highlight in their diagrams the names of the streets they are drawing, some of the shops, as well as marking their daily routes using arrows. Our study shows that gated neighbourhoods reinforce feelings (such as fear), negative behaviours (such as hostility), and individualism. There is also an absence of a feeling of solidarity with ‘others’ from outside. In summary, gated communities lead to greater levels of social disintegration. This verification of urban and social malaise supports the need to study gated communities as an active, relevant and multifaceted problem that demands attention. We will deal with this further study from this broader perspective. It is necessary to explore the role these enclaves play in the invisible mechanisms of local power networks that are intertwined with the global economy. Understanding the true interests that underlie the definition of the urban model and modern society’s way of life, undoubtedly constitutes a condition for a more aware social action. It is also necessary to look at other realities present in the contemporary urban panorama and that discretely face the torrent of enclosure that we believe annihilates the city. But there are inherent human values that tend to orient citizens towards improving the quality of life and recovering the city as a place for social encounters and cohesion.

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FIGURE 10.3

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Mind map 2: Open urban space, Colonia Centro, Puebla, 2008.

Source: author.

Puebla, a city of gated enclaves Some 30  years after the rise of these gated communities, and the problems have worsened.These urban forms threaten the very functioning of the city when seen as a whole. The gated communities have multiplied at an accelerated rate and occupy and block off larger and larger areas, progressively fragmenting the urban and social territory in the process. Figure  10.1 shows some of the new communities that have sprung up in the south-west sector of the city, known as Zona Angelopolis; among these is Lomas de Angelopolis, set in 585 hectares and geared towards higher income social groups. Gated communities, due to their unique conditions, cause great impact upon the city’s mobility. Their insertion into the urban fabric  – with their towering walls and their reduced connections to the outside – demand a supporting road infrastructure that consists of primary arteries. These have served to substitute for the ‘traditional’ street. This situation is exacerbated by gated residents’ dependence on the automobile as a necessary means of transportation. The convergence of these three elements (enclosure, roads and dependence on the automobile) – besides causing road congestion – render traditional grid patterns obsolete, make non-motorised movement difficult, and place overall mobility in the city in crisis.

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Gated communities and the primary arterial system: an immobilising mobility As we have seen, urban growth in Puebla tends to be concentrated in the residential gated communities. But even educational, health service and commercial activities are assuming walled or partially gated forms (Bouguessa 2012). These partially gated forms are a series of independent and all-purpose buildings that have been integrated to form large and impenetrable spaces. Both modalities – gated or partially gated – are, in large part, carefully designed and have sophisticated security mechanisms.They also occasionally focus on the ‘green’ aspect and therefore some of the population consider them beneficial. However, from the outside, the walls and gates function as isolating elements, radically reducing links with the city; connections are limited to the distance necessary to give access to two to four automobiles at a time, and the pavements are narrow. Figure  10.4 illustrates this situation. The conventional grid framework that allows free movement and four-point access at junctions has, in the past, given meaning to the city as a favourable location for forging social interrelationships. But this is being replaced by a narrow ‘funnel’ system that functions as a point of access for residents’ automobiles.We estimate that the community of Lomas de Angelopolis attracts 100,000 automobiles, on average3 – all using the limited entry and exit points, all at the same time, as can been seen in Figures 10.5 and Figure 10.6. With the exception of the historic (but small) downtown area, where the buildings have been declared as historic monuments, important changes in the urban infrastructure are taking place in the city of Puebla. But between the downtown area and the peripheries (see Figure 10.7) the city authorities have been allowing the closure of streets that were once open. This has had the effect of creating gated neighbourhoods, almost overnight. The peripheral areas of the city are often in the hands of real estate speculators, and represent a kind of ‘no man’s land’. Faced with a lack of institutional planning and supervision, urban sprawl has adopted labyrinth-like patterns that intermingle with enormous gated residential, educational and commercial areas, agricultural

FIGURE  10.4

Puebla, 2008. Source: author.

Entrance to the gated community of Arboledas de San Ignacio,

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Puebla, a collapsed city? An example corridor,Angelópolis–Atlixcayotl, 2013. Concept and Cartography: M. Guenet and G. Milián Ávila, 2013.

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FIGURE 10.6 Concept plan: Puebla, a collapsed city. Concept: M. Guenet and G. Milián Ávila, 2013.

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FIGURE 10.7 Later gated neighbourhoods. Concept and Cartography: M. Guenet and G. Milián Ávila, 2013.

lands awaiting speculation, and what remains of rural settlements. Although some of the grid framework still remains, especially in the former towns, the gates that have sprung up impede the continuity of traffic flow and therefore the efficient movement of traffic and pedestrians. The only way to travel is via the high-speed routes – such as the Anillo Periferico, or the various highways and federal freeways which, since they are connected to the multitude of boulevards, avenues, diagonales and primary roadways, only serve to immobilise the city of Puebla. Lomas de Angelópolis is a revealing example of these problems. As can be seen in Figure 10.8, the area is situated between the Atoyac River, the Puebla–Atlixco Highway and the Periférico Ecológico Freeway. Yet this ‘new city’ is planned to serve a population of 125,000 people, as well as having its own town centre which will attract greater numbers than this to work there. Zoning policies have resulted in the emergence of more-or-less closed sectors of the city, and reliance on a system of primary roadways that non-gated (and gated) residents are forced to use to remain ‘mobile’. These constantly congested roadways spill out into the side streets as unending lines of automobiles desperately trying to pull out onto equally unending lines of traffic on the freeways. Despite the numerous urban engineering projects – overpasses and underpasses – built by successive

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local administrations, in 2014 the city of Puebla seems to suffer from thrombosis when its residents try to go about their daily business.

The private car: a necessary but problematic evil A central element of the structural breakdown is growing dependence on the automobile. As has been widely documented, public transportation is deficient, and there are no mass transportation modalities within or near the gated communities (Fuentes 2013). As a result, those sections of the population with the economic means to do so use private vehicles. With the exception of some enclaves that are oriented towards social housing, access to public transportation services is not permitted inside the gated communities. This situation forces their residents to purchase at least one vehicle. During our field visits it was confirmed that the gated communities’ car parks were always full. Faced with this problem, and instead of establishing the link between traffic congestion and gated neighbourhoods, the authorities have tried instead to tackle each of these elements separately rather than taking them as a whole. They have given carte blanche to the developers to continue to construct gated communities, on the one hand, but have failed to take into account the need for the improved

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connectivity that such a policy demands, on the other. Instead, the authorities resort to the ‘solution’ of widening the primary roadways and erecting overpasses and underpasses, which is no solution at all. At rush hour in particular, the boulevards, diagonales, and peripheral highways (anillos periféricos) are constantly congested, turning daily travel into a nightmare. Such is the phenomenon of urban gating.

Gated communities: a link in the economic and political power networks Our evidence shows that the metropolis of Puebla is not governed by any conscious institutional project aimed at improving the quality of life for its inhabitants, and even less so towards promoting social cohesion. What is occurring is a blind process – a set of situations is being dealt with by logic rather than by a careful analysis of the city’s real needs. A more detailed examination of what is occurring reveals that government actions, and the actions of private agents, are being guided by the rationalities of power and money. The monumentalist projects that are taking place (both those that exacerbate the problems, as well as those that seek to resolve them) seek to legitimise the position of the ‘ruler on duty’ by implying enormous expenditure on engineering projects. In this context such projects make sense. This is the only rationale by which we can make sense of the reality of agricultural lands being swallowed up (often against landowners’ wishes, and for less than market value) to satisfy the hunger for gated developments. It is about a profit-driven real estate market that seeks to gain greater rewards for its investors by acquiring land on advantageous terms, as has been the case with acquisition of the common land or ejidos. The authorities have been complicit in this process. Accusations and complaints of fraud abound with regard to the underhand way in which real estate developers have acquired the land (Hernández 2010). The forces at work that act to oppose a functional and social mix within the city also explain the economic proliferation and success of the national convenience store chains which accompany the march of gated communities. In light of such relationships, it can be affirmed that we are dealing with an urban paradigm that functions for the benefit of the concentration of wealth. In reaching this conclusion it appears that Habermas’s proposals (1987) about the ‘colonisation’of life by the logic of money and power are completely fulfilled. In sum, a systemic framework is delineated which, although anchored in its own local context, extends outwards to reflect a globalised economy.

The immediate benefits Those who have benefited from the phenomenon of gating include politicians and city employees who make deals ‘under the table’ for the authorisation of such neighbourhoods, the store chains, and those involved in the construction of the costly road engineering projects aimed at ameliorating the situation. Evidence from various parts of the world abounds about acts of corruption by government officers, even

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in developed countries (Aviña 2009; Rivera 2009). While other cities are tearing down overpasses and giving priority instead to public transportation, the last four city administrations of Puebla have insisted on increasing the number of these transit superstructures. In the last ten years, 12 technically unjustifiable and inappropriate overpasses have been built over roadways. Such constructions have been responsible for a number of fatal accidents. During 2012, on the peripheral highway Periférico Ecológico, 121 accidents were recorded (Rojas 2013). If we add to this the fact that the construction of overpasses is justified due to congestion caused by privately owned automobiles, and that only 30 per cent of the population always travels by car (Medina 2012), we can conclude that the authorities are favouring certain interests.

The national networks Nationally, the group that is immediately favoured by all of this are the large real estate companies. These companies – Casa Ara, Casas Geo, Urbi, Homex and Grupo Sadasi, to name just a few – are responsible for extensive neighbourhood developments in Puebla (and other cities in Mexico). The Los Heroes de Puebla housing development, operated by the real estate company Sadasi, has 10,535 houses sited on a 107 hectare area. At the same time the company operates a property development company dedicated to building roadways, overpasses and underpasses. Such property development companies have earnings in the millions. The newest overpass, Viaducto Carlos Camacho Espiritu (inaugurated on 5 August 2013), cost 315 million pesos (Imagen Poblana 2013). Thanks to these monumental roadway projects the steel and cement companies, as well as the quarries, have also benefited financially. Shopping malls and convenience store chains also feature as beneficiaries since they are always to be found at the entrances of the gated communities (see Figure 10.9). The profitability of such chain stores is ensured by the internal regulatory policies of the enclaves, which only authorise land use within them for residential purposes, not commercial ones. A study has revealed that the establishment of an OXXO convenience store, a chain belonging to Grupo FEMSA, caused the disappearance of a number of small grocery stores within a 5 km radius (Martinez 2012).

International links The most direct beneficiaries of gating are the international banking groups. All real estate transactions are carried out through such institutions – at all levels from the mass construction of the neighbourhoods, right down to the sales of the houses to private individuals. In Mexico these institutions tend to be foreign and therefore form part of an international geography. Thus, the gated communities are linked to – and favour – the expansion of these financial networks. In turn, such financing allows and promotes further territorial expansion. The gated community of Lomas de Angelópolis is illustrative. It was begun by a family from Puebla who were originally the owners of a flour mill. In the third stage of expansion they created a master

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FIGURE 10.9 Convenience store at the entrance of Los Héroes de Puebla gated community. Source: Michel Guenet, 2014.

plan that envisioned a town centre with a floor space of 70,000 square metres of commercial space. For the construction and commercialisation of these shops, foreign (Spanish) capital and real estate developers were incorporated into the project. The automobile industry is yet another fundamental part of this international economic network of gating beneficiaries. According to the Mexican Automobile Industry Association (AMIA 2013), car production increased 21 per cent in Mexico between 2000–10. As part of this analysis of the international scope of beneficiaries it is also necessary to consider the countless products and devices – many of them coming from abroad  – that are required to provide the operational security that is installed in some of the more exclusive gated neighbourhoods.

Sustainability and popular initiatives: a potential network In contrast to the networks created by economic interests and the search for political legitimacy, a rival framework of actions and processes that seek to improve quality of life, democratise access, decrease social inequalities and strengthen natural resources, has been taking shape. Local and global groups are reflecting on questions of global warming, and on society in general. Land use projects geared towards redressing social imbalances are being implemented, especially in Europe. Citizens are increasingly expressing a desire to defend their spaces as part of a new paradigm of ‘power of the people’. This mood finds its expression in community

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organisation, social activism, research, art, and in the popular press – basically, among all those interested in the health of society and in creating better living conditions for humankind. It is about power networks that are not obvious, and as Saskia Sassen (2013b) points out, they are writing an alternative narrative.

Building new ideas about space The viability of the city is currently under threat. Since the 1990s, Choay (1994), Pellegrino (1994) and Monnet (1996) have demonstrated the difficulties facing modern cities in terms of disruptions to networks and flows that condemn the social interrelations taking place within them. The global city is under attack on the basis that its orientation is primarily economic, and that there is a lack of concern for social aspects (De Koninck 2013). In the meantime, several voices have been raised in defence of the cultural peculiarities of cities (Mongin 2013; Roncayolo et al. 2003, 2013). New categories have been invented to refer to the city of unlimited expansion, including the ‘emergency city’ (Roncayolo et al. 2003); the ‘generic city’ (Koolhaas 2011); the ‘no city’ (Paquot 2006, 2009); the ‘nomad city’; and the ‘octopus city’ – ‘full of tentacles and cannibal[istic]’ (Mongin 2013). Chakrabarti (2013) states that while the world’s population is becoming increasingly urbanised, it is at the same time becoming increasingly suburbanised as part of the same process. In his ‘manifesto for an urban America’ Chakrabarti proposes a rethinking of the city. There are many texts that condemn gated communities (Le Goix and Webster 2008; Paquot 2009); in a similar vein, other authors have discussed the importance of the urban form and of the need for a compact city to create a better quality of life (Krisek and Power 1997; Aicher 1998; Burgess 2000, among others). The studies of Vernez Moudon et al. (2006), Gehl (2010, 2012), Morency (2010), Lapierre (2010), Brun (2013) and Chakrabarti (2013) show the importance of establishing connectivity between mobility networks (e.g. the permeability of transit networks) and the urgent need to rediscover the ‘human’ aspect of urban design. Panerai et al. (1997, 1999) argue in favour of rethinking the arrangement of the city according to the pedestrian viewpoint, taking into account the conditions necessary for safe and convenient travel by foot. Sustainable development and strategic planning are the manifestations of this new tendency (Borja and Castells 1998).

Urban development: towards sustainability Urban development and sustainability as joint concepts find particular expression in European and American cities. In France, for example, the Schemes of Territorial Coherence 2006 (or SCOT in French) have as their basic values the achievement of social mix, multiplicity of function and the intensive use of pedestrian space. Projects carried out in the last decade have succeeded in integrating social housing with modern shopping centres, offices, and local and metropolitan infrastructures. In Montpellier, for example, the neighbourhoods of Antigonas, near the old centre; Ritcher, next to the Lez River; and Malbosc, outside the city limits; constitute useful

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FIGURE 10.10 Pedestrian corridor, Antigonas, Montpellier, 2010. Source: Michel Guenet, 2010.

examples (Figure  10.10). Through a process of urban renewal (densification and improvement of infrastructure that already exists), and the creation of new neighbourhoods, such projects have sought to avoid social segregation, regulate urban expansion and prevent the wasting of space – which in turn has decreased pressure on surrounding agricultural land and enhanced the natural environment. A fundamental part of this arrangement is an efficient public transportation network, with smooth displacement modalities. This serves to decrease reliance on the car and therefore decrease the need for monumental highway projects (SCOT 2006; Guenet 2012). An interesting case has been that of the Vaudreuil-Soulanges Regional County Municipality (MRC) in Quebec, Canada. Faced with the perils of uncontrolled development, the authorities initiated a strategy of building a programme of awareness training for mayors. Between 2009–12, 23 mayors attended eight specialised seminars on territorial planning and sustainable development. Additionally, two missions to Europe were arranged so that the mayors in question could witness new forms of urban development and social solidarity that were being put into practice in some of the cities in ‘the Old World’. Four years of intensive work in this regard have led to a change in thinking. The mayors have moved away from pursuing local visions centred on solving the immediate problems of the city’s daily needs, towards an appreciation of the need for long-term territorial urban planning. The process

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culminated in 2013, with the mayors’ participation, with the formulation of a sustainable territorial strategy for the MRC (Guenet and Milián 2013).

Analco neighbourhood: an example of citizen resistance The manifestations of citizen resistance are varied, with the historic neighbourhoods at the vanguard. Although numerous actions have been implemented to gentrify the city, complete eviction of traditional populations has never been fully achieved. A case in point is the neighbourhood of Analco, situated in the historic zone of the city of Puebla. This area was at the heart of a huge urban renovation project implemented by the authorities in 1993 (Milián 1997). The intention was to create an economic and commercial city hub – but to do so would require eviction of the area’s residents. Two decades on, and although many of its buildings are abandoned or in need of renovation, many of the old vecindades [tenements] still stand and their traditional residents continue to give life to the neighbourhood. The convention centre, shopping malls, cinemas, theatres, hotels and restaurants still stand alongside traditional housing, but the residents’ refusal to be moved out has slowed down the government’s plans for the area (Milián 2003; Milián and Guenet 2008).

Clavijero: an example of successful citizenship empowerment Clavijero is an urban settlement established in the 1960s. Currently, it is not regularised, and the introduction of basic services has been left to the residents themselves. The majority of the land has been built on, but half of the streets remain as dirt roads, especially in the higher lying areas. Under an initiative begun in 2013 by one of its residents, an interesting and successful citizen empowerment process has begun.This person, a graduate student and social activist, looked to deal with the problems in his own neighbourhood as part of his doctoral dissertation4 – which looked at the creation of a neighbourhood park via a process of citizen self-management. During a year of intense work – including workshops, organising sports events and hosting community parties – the student has been able to strengthen neighbourhood organisation and sensitise locals to the need for open park land, entertainment facilities and sports activities. In the process he has established meaningful contacts with government employees at City Hall.The Clavijero neighbourhood is now firmly in the government’s sights and demands raised by local petitions are now being fulfilled. It still does not have the land it needs for the neighbourhood park, but options are being explored. Meanwhile, the neighbourhood has received donations of trees, and City Hall has filled in the potholes on some of its streets. The neighbours are excited by this new wave of participation, which has resulted in organisation of security mechanisms such as the Vecino Vigilante [Vigilant Neighbour programme], as well as cleaning campaigns. It will be a very long journey indeed to meet all their

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demands, but the community has been made aware of the possibilities and are more determined than ever to fight for the services they need.

Towards an urbanism based on solidarity As we have seen through the case study of the city of Puebla and its surrounding areas, gated communities are a harmful phenomenon that require us to delve deeper into the reasons. The results of our initial work confirm that these forms create social segregation and urban fragmentation; they reinforce individualism, and they weaken solidarity towards the ‘other outsiders’.The prestigious enclaves do not only take in ‘important businessmen and celebrities’ (De la Mora and Riwilis 2012) they also become the safehouses of wealthy criminals. In February 2014 a Mexican druglord was arrested at his home in the prestigious Vista Country Club in Puebla (a gated community). This third and final phase of our research is geared towards unravelling the complexity found beyond the walls. On the first level we have shown that we are dealing with a systemic functionalisation that is implemented in the urban structure, one that drives the entire city to physical and psychological collapse – a process other authors have called ‘urban gating’. On a second level of complexity, the analysis revealed links around the economic and political processes that underlie these physical-spatial forms, both local and global.These gated communities favour processes of economic concentration that are translated into invisible and distant power structures. As part of a vicious dynamic this power assumes leadership of the whole city and of its surroundings. These powers also determine the dimensions of urban expansion, the organisation of land use, the forms of mobility within the city, and the possibilities for social integration/segregation – but only in a way that accords with the strategies and interests of international capital. The case of Lomas de Angelópolis is illustrative – inside its walls is ‘the other city’, the place where the real American Dream can be found, a place free of the social contradictions, disorder and insecurity of the outside. Here is implemented a doubly reinforced enclosure which operates very rigid control measures for employees from the ‘outside’ who want to work on the ‘inside’. All the while, outside the enclosure the city and its occupants are in peril, but what seems to have been lost is that so too are those who are meant to be benefiting from enclosure since they too are part of the larger urban fabric. However, and as seen in other studies we have developed, and as Sassen (2013a) has stated, processes that question the abusive nature of the modern paradigm of the city are being configured at a global level – and acted upon. This conception understands – and is sympathetic to – the need for urban development that is geared toward constructing a humanised and respectful environment for the benefit of all – including, to use an ecological analogy, the ‘other’ species that make for biodiversity. As we have shown, those who have adopted this way of thinking are social leaders and activists with expertise as well as clarity of vision. A good example is the

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late Georges Frêche (President of Montpellier Agglomeration, 2001–10) who led three years of debate to help facilitate agreement between various local actors and the local authorities – and in so doing breathe life into the Montpellier Territorial Project. Social groups that defend traditional settlements undoubtedly serve as a counterbalance to the explosion of gated communities referred to earlier in this chapter. In conclusion, gated communities are not just an interesting research topic. They are an active problem which, as part of a voracious and self-fulfilling need for expansion, seek to establish perverse relationships with other processes that threaten the viability of the city as an environment fit for human settlement. Given the increasing concentration of the world’s population in the city, gated communities might therefore be said to threaten the future of global society as a whole. This being the case, it is more urgent than ever that we move beyond the walls of academic reflection, and seek to influence decision-makers, private agents and citizens to drive a new urbanism that is based on world solidarity and citizen empowerment.

Notes 1 2

3 4

Benemerita Universidad Autonoma de Puebla, Facultad de Arquitectura, Puebla, Mexico. Tel: (222) 2444768, email: [email protected]. Université de Montreal, Faculté de l’aménagement, Institut d’urbanisme, Montreal, Canada.Tel: (514) 343–2373. email: [email protected]. Translation to English by Marsha J. Way, Benemérita Universidad Autónoma de Puebla, School of Languages, [email protected]. For this calculation, we considered 25,000 dwelling units, and 90,000 square metres for office buildings and commercial spaces. Juan Carlos Rivera Arenas is a student of the Doctorate Programme in Territorial Processes at the Benemérita Universidad Autónoma de Puebla, under the tutelage of Guadalupe Milián and Michel Guenet. For the past eight years he has worked in the Department of Parks and Gardens at City Hall in Puebla. His Master’s dissertation discusses the management of green space.

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Paquot, T. (2006) Terre urbaine: cinq défis pour le devenir Urbain de la planète. Pris La Découverte Paquot,T. (2009) Guettos de riches: tour du monde des enclaves résidentielles sécurisées. Paris: Perrin Pellegrino, P. (1994) ‘Culture architecturale, culture urbaine’ in P.  Pelligrino, Figures Architecturales, Formes Urbaines. Genève, Anthropos Piaget, J. and García, R. (1984) Psicogénesis e historia de la ciencia. México: Siglo XXI Rivera, J. C., (2009) ‘Reconceptualización y gestión de las áreas verdes municipales en Puebla’, unpublished thesis. Maestr ía en Ordenamiento territorial, Benemérita Universidad Autónoma de Puebla Rojas, G. (2013) ‘Bajo riesgo 200 mil personas al día en el Periférico:  Actívate por Puebla’, available at:  http://e-consulta.com/nota/2013-06-11/seguridad/ bajo-riesgo-200-mil-personas-al-d%C3%ADa-en-el-periférico-act%C3%ADvate-por-p uebla (accessed 4 October 2013. Roncayolo, M., Levy, J., Paquot, T., Mongin, O., and d Cardinali, P. (2003) De la ville et du citadin. Marseille: Éditions Parenthèses Roncayolo, M. (2013) ‘La ville, emblème de la civilisation’ in Le Monde, L’Atlas des villes. Éditions Le Monde-La vie (Hors-Série): 22–3 Sassen, S. (2013a) ‘Gated Communities keynote lecture’. Available at:  https://student. brighton.ac.uk/videos/newvideos.php?ID=1843 Sassen, S. (2013b) ‘La ville selon …’ in Le Monde, L’Atlas des villes. Éditions Le Monde-La vie (Hors-Série): 15 Tsoukala, K. (2001) L’image de la ville chez l’enfant. Paris, Anthropos:  Collection La Bibliothèque des Formes Vernez Moudon, A., Leed, C., Cheadles, A. D., Garvin, C., Johnson, D. and Schmid, T. L. (2006) ‘Operational definitions of walkable neighborhood:  Theoretical and empirical insights’ in Journal of Physical and Health, vol. 3: 99–117

11 GATING IN SOUTH AFRICA A gated community is a tree; a city is not Darren Nel and Karina Landman

Introduction This chapter builds on the seminal work of Christopher Alexander, ‘A city is not a tree’ (1966), as well as on more recent work by the French architect/economist Serge Salat on urban morphology and urban resilience. The chapter explores the urban form and structure of a number of gated communities in the eastern part of Pretoria in order to determine their impact on sustainable urbanism, and in particular urban resilience. The aim is to identify whether gated communities typically resemble a tree-like structure (lattice) or a leaf-like structure (semi-lattice), with the latter being more resilient over time according to recent studies. Gated communities are analysed according to a number of indicators for resilience  – including connectivity, complexity, diversity, intensity and proximity – and compared to an ‘open’ neighbourhood. This is then followed by a discussion of the implications for spatial transformation and the reconsideration of boundaries within cities. Concluding, the chapter then considers the relationship between gated communities and urban resilience in South Africa in the light of the statement that a gated community is a tree, while a city is not.

Urban gating: introducing new debates While urban sustainability has been a focus for growing concern within built environment studies, recent research in urban planning and design have begun to highlight the importance of urban resilience.Walker and Salt (2006) emphasise that urban resilience thinking is critical to achieving greater urban sustainability, while Du Plessis (2012) maintains that resilience thinking has emerged as an alternative lens and potential mechanism for understanding problems related to urban sustainability,

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as well as a means for framing new ways to look at appropriate interventions. One of the areas that is receiving more attention is the relationship between urban resilience and urban morphology. In a seminal study, Salat (2011) illustrates this relationship in an eloquent manner, supported by in-depth studies and calculations. He argues that the resilience of a city is directly influenced by the nature of the urban morphology and its ability to limit and/or absorb the spread of perturbations and increase or decrease the complexity of the urban form. In another recent study, Allan et al. (2013) highlight the influence of urban morphology on the resilience of cities in the aftermath of an earthquake. Not only do these studies begin to confirm a direct relationship between the nature of urban morphology and the resilience of cities, they also start to identify certain attributes and indicators of urban morphology that are likely to positively influence urban resilience. These studies open up new avenues to explore various urban phenomena and their potential relationship to urban morphology, forming part of a growing number of studies on urban planning and resilience. One such phenomenon is that of gated communities. Although fortified cities are not something new, the last 20 years or so have witnessed an explosion of various types of gated community/ developments all over the world. These vary in size from small complexes or a few gated streets, to large gated neighbourhoods within cities. In some cases these developments have become so commonplace and concentrated within certain parts of the city that they have started to raise questions regarding urban sustainability (Landman and du Plessis 2007). However, given the increased focus on urban resilience and the potential impact of these large concentrations on the morphological patterns of cities, this also raises questions about the relationship between gated communities and urban resilience, especially in a country like South Africa where the development of gated communities has significantly increased in recent years. While there have been an increased number of studies on the social aspects of gated communities, the spatial aspects have received comparably less attention (Landman 2008), and very limited work has been completed on the morphological aspects. It has been argued that certain cities or neighbourhoods resemble trees; while others resemble leaves (Salat 2011; Salat and Bourdic 2012).The aim of this chapter is to explore whether gated communities typically resemble a tree-like structure (lattice) or leaf-like structure (semi-lattice).Two gated developments are analysed according to several indicators for resilience, and then compared to a more traditionally structured ‘open’ neighbourhood. This not only raises questions about the resilience of different neighbourhood types in terms of their form and structure, it also starts to highlight issues around the transformation of urban form and structure and how this involves a reconceptualisation of different types of boundaries within the city.

Urban gating: structures and processes related to urban resilience and morphology Resilience refers to the amount of change a system can experience before shifting to an alternative state with different structural and functional properties. Urban

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resilience is concerned with the dynamics within cities and their relationships to the different sub-systems that constitute the whole; or in other words, the distance between the existing urban system’s state and the critical threshold that would force a collapse and total transformation of that existing system. As a result of specific urban dynamics, one or more sub-systems may be disturbed, either temporarily or on a more permanent basis. These disturbances could then lead to system changes, thus moving the system beyond the critical threshold and into an alternative state. Specific urban sub-systems may be more vulnerable to such changes. They may also point towards a combination of disturbances that could increase the vulnerability of a specific system, especially if these occur at a time when the system has not yet had a chance to recover from a previous disturbance or set of disturbances (Resilience Alliance 2010); or in a vulnerable system where a small disturbance may cause dramatic social consequences (Folke 2006:  253). However, in a resilient socio-ecological system, disturbances can also create opportunities for innovation and development (Folke 2006; Ernston et. al. 2010). It is therefore important to understand the pattern of disturbances over time in order to obtain an idea of how to respond to them – not necessarily by trying to control them, but rather to initiate the appropriate response to strengthen the system’s resilience (Resilience Alliance 2010). Salat and Bourdic (2012: 65) argues that ‘urban resilience can be understood as the robustness of urban structures and networks against random failures’. These failures may occur on a small scale  – for example disruptions to local transport networks or energy supplies – or on a large scale (ibid.). The likelihood of these disruptions is influenced by the urban form. As early as the 1960s, Christopher Alexander introduced the idea that cities may reflect either a lattice (a typical tree-like structure in which no overlaps occur) or a semi-lattice (containing overlapping units). He argued that the city should not be a tree; instead it needs to be a semi-lattice that allows for a social structure that is filled with overlaps (Alexander 1966). Salat (2011; Salat and Bourdic 2012) takes this argument further and refers to these two paradigms as cities that resemble trees or cities that resemble leaves – with the key difference being that one is open and the other closed. Trees are completely disconnected at a given scale, and therefore moving from one twig to another, even if they are close together, will mean going down one branch and up another to make the connection. Leaves, on the other hand, are connected on intermediate scales. So although the veins are disconnected at the two larger scales, they are entirely connected at the following three scales before presenting small tree-like structures on the finest capillary scale. Cities that resemble leaves are argued to be more resilient since they reflect fractal structures, are multi-connected, and complex on all scales (Salat 2011: 17). Following from this discussion it is possible to start identifying a number of indicators to explore the relationship between urban morphology and resilience. It is not the aim of this chapter to provide a detailed description of all the relevant indicators, or the entire spectrum of different techniques to measure them. Rather, we introduce a few initial indicators that are particularly relevant for the study of gated communities and their morphology in relation to urban resilience. These indicators

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will start to give an indication of the system’s ability to withstand disruption, and increase or decrease complexity, as referred to earlier. Successfully performing environments are complex and contain a variety of overlapping conditions and activities that are typically characteristic of the semi-lattice structure. These conditions and activities generate urban opportunities through interaction and spontaneous activity (Dewar and Uytenbogaardt 1991:  19–20). Cities exist in a vortex of continually changing energy  – i.e. nature  – which is organised in a complex way. In contrast, many systems built by human beings  – including some of the more recent cities – are informed by a simple mechanical logic. The complexity of human systems must be enhanced to be more like natural systems. In this regard, living systems and local ecosystems serve as the best model for the conceptualisation of a complex system since they have developed and become more complex over billions of years of evolution. Evolution, which involves a combination of continuity and change, permitted the survival of species via a process of constant transformation, and it is therefore through adaptation via incremental change that great transformation and diversity can occur over time. In this way a complex order is created through the evolution of small-scale objects and elements, which in turn influence the higher scales (Salat and Bourdic 2012: 57–8). The problem today is that cities are changing so fast, and on such a vast scale, that there is barely time for complexity to develop. Dewar and Uytenbogaardt (1991: 23) argue that one cannot design for complexity. Rather, one can only put in place the preconditions for it to occur over time. If the structure is too rigid, fixed and over-controlled, individual creativity based on specific desires and priorities cannot find expression. Sterility is guaranteed. Quality rich environments are complex and contain diversity, spatial overlap and concentration of uses (ibid). Complexity is therefore an essential aspect of a sustainable and resilient city in that it generates a rich urban fabric through multiple points of contact, exchange and interface (Salat 2011: 490). In this way it relates directly to connectivity and diversity. The historical city increased its complexity and connectivity as it grew. But in the modernist city the opposite has happened – there has been an over-simplification of its morphology and a reduction of connectivity. Any analysis of resilience needs to look at form, function and connectivity, and of these elements it is the connections that are most fundamental in creating a living and sustainable city. When these connections are destroyed – as has happened in the last 30 years of city-building – a huge anti-urban product follows (Salat and Bourdic 2012). City plans offer valuable indicators as to the type and level of connectivity by looking at the role of the street and at the intersections (Salat and Bourdic 2012; Cardillo et al. 2006). The resilience of a network can be understood through the level of fragmentation of the structure as it relates to the growing amount of fraction that occurs due to the removal of nodes (Buhl et al. 2004) – which in turn relates back to the level of connectivity:  ‘Resilient living cities maintain their axes of development; they preserve the placement of their arteries; they grow while continuing to conform to orientation and a sense determined by older facts whose memory has often been erased’ (Salat and Bourdic 2012: 60).

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Therefore, to survive, a city has to be able to change continuously and adapt to new needs  – which implies a transformation of urban form where necessary. Successful urban developments are based on an intersection between urban planning and self-organisation (Salat and Bourdic 2012:  60). Both of these concepts, namely adaptive capacity and self-organisation, are considered as critical in resilience theory (Resilience Alliance 2010). Interestingly, a study conducted by Cardillo et al. (2006: 5) that measured the street networks of 20 cities worldwide – based on the number of connections to nodes, and the lengths of streets between nodes – found good local performances of the local structural properties of the street networks in terms of both their enmeshment level and complexity.This was the case in both the grid-planned cities – such as New York, Savannah and San Francisco – as well as in those with self-organised patterns, such as Ahmedabad, Cairo and Seoul. Those cities with suburban ‘lollipop’ layouts  – such as Irvine and Walnut Creek in the USA – performed the worst. The capacity of structures to last over time therefore depends on the ‘complexity of their organisation, the intricacy of their network, the richness of their connectivity, and the creation of a fractal order of the same complexity at various scales’ (Salat and Bourdic 2012: 60). However, as mentioned above, the complexity and richness of the urban fabric, and the connections within it, only develop over time. This raises the issue of emergence, which is also considered a critical concept within resilience thinking (Resilience Alliance 2010). Emerging properties are not integrated in the system from the start and need to develop at small scale, initially, so that they can support the higher scales later on during development cycle. Emergence is necessary for a system to repair, stabilise and evolve. Three conditions support this: high connectivity, the presence of mechanisms that enable creation of new connections, and a low degree of control (Salat and Bourdic 2012). In other words, enough flexibility for various responses to take place over time (Dewar and Uytenbogaardt 1991). A multiplicity of connections enhances resilience, which is further strengthened if these are connected in diverse ways and at a variety of scales and hierarchies. This contributes to the adaptive capacity of the structure and physical system, and its ability to deal with fluctuations and disturbances, which in turn enables greater self-organisation (Salat and Bourdic 2012). The complexity and adaptive capacity of the urban system is also further enhanced through diversity, diversity being taken to refer to similar objects operating at the same scale – for example, a mix of population groups, income groups, land uses and housing units in a given area – as well as diversity at different scales (Page 2011; Salat 2011), for example, the presence of certain large-scale metropolitan facilities that are located in only a few places, including large hospitals or sports stadia. Increased diversity makes provision for greater redundancy and increased capacity in terms of the response to certain system failures and disturbances/disruptions. ‘Diversity’ can also be enhanced by spatial distribution, which refers to the concentration or dispersion of objects at a given scale in proportion to need – and in a way that would be considered equitable – allowing people to access places where they can address their everyday needs. This might be judged, for example, by the number of public buildings in a district (Salat 2011).

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Linked to this, but somewhat different, is proximity. This takes into account the average distance between two things – for example home and leisure activities or home and work. The aim is to minimise distance in order to minimise travel needs, such as commuting (Salat 2011) or related costs of time and energy. The final indicator that will be used in this chapter is intensity, which is aligned closely to complexity and diversity. According to Dewar and Uytenbogaardt (1991) the greatest chance for the generation of urban opportunity is through intense interactions and high levels of popular support (Glaeser 2011). This highlights the importance of intensity and the overlap of activity. This does not however mean ubiquitous levels of intensity, but rather a range of intensity and exposure from the very intense to the more private:  ‘High-stimulus environments which promote learning are fine-grained and diverse’ (Dewar and Uytenbogaardt 1991: 20). Intensity, or density as it is often referred to, is used to measure the concentration of an object at a given scale. It can, for example, describe a concentration of people or of housing. Intensity implies the relationship between the result and the means employed to reach that result. Complexity, connectivity, diversity, proximity and intensity are all typical elements of a leaf-like structure (or semi-lattice), and they enable a number of resilience attributes to develop or be accommodated  – including greater adaptive capacity, self-organisation, emergence and increased response diversity to system failure or disturbances. The absence of these factors may have a negative impact on the adaptive capacity of a system and its ability to respond to system failures. This raises interesting questions about the urban form and structure of a typical gated community. It might be argued that such a community-type is the response to a failure in the larger social system (in the form of ‘crime’) and to the fact that traditional social measures and soft boundaries are no longer considered adequate to address this disturbance; hence the need for extreme measures and hard boundaries to re-establish control. But how does this influence the resilience of the city?

New morphologies of urban gating As discussed above, for a city to continue to survive it requires a high degree of connectivity and sufficient intensity, which can in turn facilitate a diversity of use. Additionally, spatial distribution is preferable, since this allows for an increase in proximity. However, gated communities do not necessarily display these properties. In the following analysis, gated communities are compared to an ‘open’ neighbourhood. These neighbourhoods are all located in the east of the city of Tshwane (Figure 11.3) in South Africa. Brooklyn is an older neighbourhood based on a slightly deformed grid layout. Both Irene and Newlands used to be ‘open’ and accessible neighbourhoods but have been transformed into enclosed ones (Figure 11.1 and Figure 11.2). There are two main types of gated community in South Africa, namely enclosed neighbourhoods and security villages. The former comprise existing

FIGURE 11.1

Controlled entrance to Irene.

Source: author.

FIGURE 11.2

Source: author.

Controlled entrance to Newlands.

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FIGURE 11.3

Location of four neighbourhoods in Tshwane, South Africa

Source: author.

neighbourhoods that have been closed off for security purposes, while the latter includes private developments built for different target groups and for different purposes. These include gated estates, gated townhouse complexes and apartments, and gated office parks (Landman 2012). Silver Lakes, the fourth area that will be analysed, is a typical gated estate. The analysis will make use of the following measurements (indicators):  complexity, diversity, connectivity, proximity and intensity. For each indicator a set of quantifiable measurements are provided.

Complexity For the purpose of this chapter diversity and connectivity will be used as proxy indicators for complexity. This is due to the fact that complexity emerges over time and is facilitated through an increase in diversity and connectivity (Cardillo et al. 2006; Page 2011; Porta et al., 2006; Salat and Bourdic 2012; Salat 2011).

Diversity Diversity is an essential component of a complex system because it helps to build complexity by facilitating a multitude of interactions between parts (Page 2011; Salat and Bourdic 2012). It can be described in many different ways depending

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TABLE 11.1 Indicators to explore the relationship between urban morphology and urban resilience within gated developments

Diversity

Diversity of objects (population, income) Spatial distribution (functional mix – land use) Diversity of scale

Connectivity

Hierarchies of scale (also linked to diversity of scale above) External connections (connections to surrounding areas) Internal connections (shortest paths – related to edges or lengths of streets, and connections from/ to nodes)

Complexity

Proximity (connectivity at a broader scale)

Distance between two key destinations (e.g. home and leisure, or home and work)

Intensity (also linked to diversity)

Population density (residents per hectare) Housing density (units per hectare) Built density (footprint through FAR)

upon what is being considered. Salat and Bourdic (2012:  490–4) provide three various definitions of diversity, namely: diversity among similar objects, diversity in space or spatial distribution (linked to proximity), and diversity of objects at different scales. Diversity among similar objects refers to the differences in objects that can be grouped together (Page 2011: 20; Salat 2011: 491). For example, we can look at the number of different land uses within an area, the diversity of road types/classes, or population diversity (in terms of age, gender, race, language, etc.). This measure of diversity – land use for example – is simply calculated by counting the number of different land uses within an area. The more different land uses, the higher the level of diversity. Within our selection of case studies Brooklyn has, by far, the highest diversity of land uses, since it has a mixture of residential, commercial, business, educational, etc. In addition to the mixture of different types of land uses, it also has diversity within each type. For example, there are different types of residential options within the area, i.e. flats, townhouses, communes, guest-houses and the traditional single free-standing house. When compared to the other areas, Irene has the next highest

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Intersections per km2 51

54

37

37 25

Brooklyn

Irene (BG)

Irene (AG)

Newlands

Silver Lakes

Intersection density of Brooklyn, Irene (before and after gating), Newlands and Silver Lakes.

FIGURE  11.4

diversity of land uses: five different uses. It does not, however, have the same diversity within each type that Brooklyn has. The same can be said about Newlands and Silver Lakes, which are both primarily residential areas with Silver Lakes having the additional feature of recreational facilities.

Connectivity Connectivity is the measure of how connected an area is – internally and externally. It examines the number, as well as the configuration, of these intersections. ‘Creating enough intersections multiplies the number of possible routes, reduces distances and traffic jams, and makes places more easily accessible to pedestrians’ (Bourdic et  al. 2012:  597). Additionally, a larger number of intersections creates more possible routes, and builds in a greater level of redundancy (Bourdic et  al. 2012: 597–9; Salat and Bourdic 2012: 32). This implies that if one path is blocked there is an alternative path available.The way that this can be calculated is by counting the number of intersections1 per area or per square kilometre. When comparing the internal connectivity of our areas (see Figure  11.4) in intersections/square kilometre, Irene, after it was gated off (AG), has the highest score, with an average of 54 intersections, followed by Brooklyn and Newlands, both with 37 intersections, and Silver Lakes with 25. At a first glance Irene’s result of 54 may seem quite high but these intersection densities are very low when compared to other parts of the world like London (200),Venice (688),Toledo (420), Paris (Bastille) (186) and New  York (Manhattan) (120) (Salat 2011). Our scores are closer to those of Brasilia (41) and Washington DC (residential) (53), yet not as low as Irvine’s suburban layout of 12 intersections/square kilometre (Salat 2011). Although Irene has a higher number of intersections, many of these are in fact

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5b

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5c

FIGURE  11.5 Three types of junction (a) T-Junction; (b) X-junction and; (c) cul-desac, the ‘lollipop’ that leads to a dead-end. Source: adapted from Marshall (2005).

cul-de-sacs that have been created when it was gated off. These have a negative effect on connectivity. In addition to the number of internal connections, and particularly relevant to the study of gated communities, is the number and location of external connections or the number of entrances into a gated area. This has a great impact on distances travelled and is strongly linked to proximity. As Brooklyn is primarily an open grid system it has many (34) possible places that one can enter from. Irene (before it was gated off) also had a large number of external connections (24). However, this has been reduced to only two entry/exit points. Newlands and Silver Lakes have three and two entrances respectively. However, it is not all about the number of connections. It is also the configuration of these connections that helps determine a city’s resilience (Salat and Bourdic 2012: 501). This can be analysed by looking at the types of intersection. Cardillo et al. (2006) and Marshall (2005) describe three main types of intersection. They are: three-arm (T-Junctions) [Figure 11.5a], four-arm (x-junctions) [Figure 11.5b] and cul-de-sac (dead ends) [Figure 11.5c].2 When looking at the intersection type and connectivity of an area, Marshall (2005: 89) demonstrates that a road network with more X-junctions (such as a grid pattern) has a much higher level of connectivity than that of a network comprised mainly of T-junctions and cul-de-sac (which are often a feature of the ‘lollipop’ layout of a typical modernist suburban road system). To indicate the connectedness of an area in terms of its intersection types, the proportion of (or relationship between) X-junctions, T-junctions and cul-de-sacs within the area under study should be considered. This relationship can be represented in a ‘node-gram’ (see Marshall 2005: 100–1) (Figure 11.6), which shows the proportion of X- junctions, T-junctions and cul-de-sacs in relation to one another. The more of any one type, the closer it will be towards ‘1’ on that corresponding corner of the diagram. The node-gram in Figure 11.6 shows the proportion of X-junctions,T-junctions and cul-de-sacs for the four study areas. Brooklyn has the highest proportion of X-junctions while Newlands does not have any X-junctions and consists predominantly of T-junctions (which is why it appears on the T-junction axis).

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1 Proportion of T-junctions

Newlands

Silver Lakes

Irene (BG)

Irene (AG)

Proportion of Cal-de-sacs

0

Brooklyn

Proportion of X-junctions-

1

The node-gram. A  point is plotted depicting the proportion of X-junctions, T-junctions and cul-de-sacs in an area. Newlands is located on the axis closest to the highest ratio of T-junctions since it has no X-junctions. Source: adapted from Marshall (2005: 101).

FIGURE  11.6

Of particular interest is Irene. From the node-gram the effects of its having been gated off is evidenced by the large move of the node towards the cul-de-sac axis (i.e from Irene Before Gate (BG) position to the Irene After Gate (AG) position). The increased number of cul-de-sacs and the decrease in the number of entry points indicates a decrease in the continuity and overall connectedness of the area. The fourth variable for connectivity is that of the cyclomatic number (μ). This number is associated with the number of blocks within a network. The ‘cyclomatic numbers measure the number of independent circuits in the road network. They are indicators of the multiplicity of possible choices offered by the network’ (Salat 2011: 243). In short the cyclomatic number measures the number of primary loops within the network. The more loops, the more possible routes are available within an area. This is a good way to quantify redundancy within in a transport network (Bourdic et al. 2012: 599). An increase in redundancy is vital when the goal is to build a resilient network (Ahern 2011; Newman et al. 2009; Pelling 2003). The cyclomatic number calculation is described as μ = L – N + 1 (L: number of links – a link is the section of road between two intersections; N: number of nodes) (Bourdic et al. 2012; Salat 2011). The higher the number the more possible routes exist within the network. However, this number is of little use unless areas of the same size are being compared. For a more accurate comparison the cyclomatic number should be divided by the area of the network being studied. This gives the cyclomatic number/square kilometre.

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Cvclomatic number oer km2 24.3 15.8 .

Brooklyn

Irene (BG)

10.9

10.2

8.7

Irene (AG)

Newlands

Silver Lakes

FIGURE  11.7 Cyclomatic number/km2 for Brooklyn, Irene (before and after gating), Newlands and Silver Lakes. The general trend is a decrease in the number the more control-oriented an area becomes.

As can be seen in Figure  11.7 there is a general decrease in the cyclomatic number from Brooklyn (highest) to Silver Lakes (lowest). This decrease is due to the large proportion of T-junctions and cul-de-sacs within the lower scoring areas (this is particularly true for Silver Lakes and Newlands). Because of the nature of the intersections there are fewer connections, which in turn reduces the number of possible routes. This point can be illustrated by looking at the figure for Irene (AG). It has the highest number of intersections, yet, because of the limited number of connections between intersections (the result of the large number of T-junctions and cul-de-sacs) the cyclomatic number will ultimately be lower. Average distance between intersections within a network is the final measure of connectivity that we describe. This is a useful proxy indicator of how ‘walkable’ a city is (Bourdic et al. 2012: 599). The longer the distance between intersections the further and more difficult it is to move around. Figure  11.8 shows the average distance between intersections for each of the study areas. Although Irene has the shortest distance between intersections it is still not very pedestrian-friendly compared to other cities in the world, for example Turin [80 m], Kyoto [88 m], Paris (Bastille) [100 m] and New York (Manhattan) [120 m] (Bourdic et al. 2012; Salat 2011). However, the intersection distances are not to the extremes of Brasilia [400 m] and Washington DC (residential) [300 m], both of which are car-oriented areas (Salat 2011)

Proximity Proximity is the link between diversity and distance. Proximity measures how far one location is from another; i.e. home, work and leisure. Ideally this should be minimised so as to reduce the time spent travelling. There are two ways

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Average Distance between Intersections (m) 169

158

158

163

Brooklyn

Irene (BG)

Irene (AG)

Newlands

192

Silver Lakes

Distance between intersections for Brooklyn, Irene, Newlands and Silver Lakes. The longer the distance between intersections, the less pedestrian-friendly the area is.

FIGURE  11.8

a FIGURE 11.9

b Euclidean distance (a) and metric distance (b) between two points.

to measure proximity. The first is straight line or ‘euclidean’ distance (‘as the crow flies’) [Figure  11.9a]; the other is the metric (route or actual) distance [Figure 11.9b]. It is important to differentiate between these two measures of proximity since an object may be close in terms of euclidean distance, but, as a result of the local road layout or as a result of gating, may be much further away in reality. This point will be illustrated later. For each of the study areas we randomly selected a point within the area and then looked at its proximity to the nearest commercial area. Brooklyn had the best proximity to commercial activities (the metric distance was never more than 1.4 times further than the euclidean distance) because of the higher number of

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F I G U R E   1 1 . 1 0 Metric distance between two points in Irene before it was gated (left) and after it was gated (right). Source: author.

commercial land uses as well as the fact that it has an open grid pattern. In one of the examples for Irene (AG – after gating) the metric distance was more than 13 times further than the euclidean distance (see Figure 11.10). This was ten times further than when same two points were checked for Irene (BG – before gating). This is primarily the result of a reduction in the number of entry/exit points in Irene. Silver Lakes’s proximity figure was the worst; on average the metric distance was found to be 2.3 times further than euclidean distance.

Intensity Density, or intensity as Bourdic et al. (2012) and Salat (2011) prefer to call it, refers to the quantity of something there is within an area. It is often expressed as people or dwelling units/hectare or per square kilometre. For the purposes of this chapter we have chosen human density, housing density, sub-division intensity, road (area) intensity and the density of social amenities. Each of these can be calculated as shown below. Human density or population density refers to the number of people within an area. Similarly, housing density refers to the number of dwelling units within an area. Sub-division intensity shows the average number of plots within an area. The average size of a plot gives us an indication of how the land has been sub-divided and is calculated as the size of the area divided by the number of plots. This can be adapted by exchanging the total area with the area used for a particular use – residential or commercial, for example.This gives a better reflection of the size of the plots for a particular type of use.

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60.0 50.0 40.0

34.7

30.0

24.6

22.3

20.0

16.1 9.6

10.0 2.7

3.4

0.7

0.0 Brooklyn

Irene

Newlands

Recreational and educational

Silver Lakes

Road surface

Percentage of total surface area dedicated to recreation and educational facilities and roads within the four areas.

FIGURE 11.11

There is very little noticeable difference between the selected areas in terms of their human density. With regards to sub-division intensity and average plot size Irene is the only place that stands out because it has fewer plots/hectare, while also having larger average plot sizes and fewer dwelling units/hectare. Road intensity and social amenity density give us an indication of how much land is being used for a particular use. As can be seen from Figure 11.11 Brooklyn’s roads take up a large expanse of the total surface area (24.6 per cent) when compared to Irene (16.1 per cent) and Silver Lakes (9.6 per cent).What is interesting to note is that Irene and Brooklyn were established at the same time (1902), and both have a grid-like pattern. However, Irene has much narrower roads (the lanes were initially only used for waste collection but were widened in the 1970s to facilitate access to the newly sub-divided plots). Brooklyn has a very similar grid pattern and spacing to Tshwane’s CBD, found to the west.This size grid was typical for this part of the city at the time. In terms of social amenities (recreation and education) Silver Lakes stands out with nearly 35 per cent of its area taken up by recreational facilities. This large private recreational space reduces the amount of space available for other uses, such as residential. It is useful to look at all of these measures in combination, since together they paint a much clearer picture of the way in which land is being used. From the analysis it is clear that the gated communities have lower levels of connectivity and diversity. This often means residents have to take longer routes to reach places where they can address their daily needs (Table 11.2). Given this, these gated communities resemble a typical tree-like structure that, when multiplied over the urban landscape (see Figure 11.12), could have a significant impact on the urban resilience of the city. Yet, as illustrated in the discussion above, it is clear that the urban form and structure is part of a continuous process of spatial transformation. The transformation of

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the city and of gated communities in South Africa is also part of a constant process of change (Landman 2010). This raises questions concerning the role of physical boundaries and their relation to larger urban systems.

Networks and boundaries: the tree and the evolution of suburbia Gated communities are, however, not the only tree-like structures. Many of the modernist layouts and typical suburban areas also resemble tree-like structures, with low levels of connectivity, diversity and intensity (Figure 11.14). Does this imply that gated communities are not, in fact, so very different from the typical suburban layout; are they just a logical evolution of suburbia? In the book by Salat and Bourdic (2012) the evolution of different types of urban layout is traced, including the more organic ones, typical Roman grids, more irregular medieval patterns, and the closed suburban systems (Figure 11.13). Should gated communities therefore be considered as a new type of urban morphology, or are they just the ultimate manifestation of suburbia with a wall? Were suburban layouts not also intended to separate the neighbourhood from its surroundings by using physical elements such as highways, green buffer strips, open spaces at the periphery, and limited numbers of entrances? If this is the case, the only difference is that gated communities involve the remaking of old boundaries using more visible vertical hard boundaries at the periphery as part of a process to re-establish a sense of control. It therefore becomes a question of who controls which urban spaces in the city. In order to address this question, one needs to ask how agencies of power exercise control over space, and how territorial control underlies social control. In the public realm this is usually the task of the police (Herbert 1997). In the private realm this task is taken over by private security guards, who effectively become the agent of control. Enforcement of control is facilitated by clear boundaries. Mann points out that boundaries ‘derive from an emergent need to institutionalise social relations’ (in Herbert 1997: 18).This highlights the intricate socio-spatial relations between space and power. It also provides insight into modern power and its investment in territorial practice, and points towards the spatial foundations of modern social control. In this way the demarcation of space is closely related to the regulation of human behaviour (Herbert 1997: 18–19). The relationship between space and social action is clear: ‘social action always occurs in place and thus is shaped by spatial contexts. At the same time, places themselves are always socially and culturally constructed’ (Herbert 1997: 21). One can therefore argue that as social control weakens in the traditional ‘open’ neighbourhoods, the soft boundaries also tend to lose their power. These soft boundaries are then invariably replaced or supplemented by hard boundaries. In this way, the hard boundaries can be regarded as an expansion of the soft boundaries or a physical manifestation of particular societal/community needs. The transformation of space therefore reflects the evolution of form, but also the specific needs of a particular society at a particular time. It may therefore be that

TABLE 11.2 Results from the calculations for Brooklyn, Irene, Newlands and Silver Lakes

Indicator Diversity

What is being calculated?

Number of different land uses (within boundary) Connectivity Internal connectivity (intersections per km2) External connections External connections per km2 Intersection type proportion, % (X-; Tand cul-de-sac) Cyclomatic number (per km2) Ave. distance between intersections (m) Proximity Path Euclidean (m) Metric (m) Difference factor Intensity Human density (people per hectare) Housing density (dwelling units per hectare) Sub-division intensity (plots per hectare) Sub-division intensity (excluding recreation and education) (plots per hectare) Average plot size (excluding recreation and education) (m2) Road intensity Social amenities

Brooklyn

Irene (BG)

10

N/A

38

51

34

24

11.6

14.6

X 67%

T 28%

Cul-de-sac 6%

X 27%

24.3

15.8

169

158

A-B 620 880 1.4 14.3

B-C 880 1,140 1.3

A-D 1,220 1,330 1.1

A-B 165 220 1.3 N/A

6.2

N/A

4.8

N/A

6.6

N/A

1,491.2

N/A

24.6% 2.7%

16.1% 3.4%

T 64%

Cul-de-sac 8%

A-C 890 1,230 1.4

A-D 895 1,040 1.2

Note: [a] = calculation made by including the larger, non-gated area since lower level data was not available. As a result of this results may be skewed.

Irene (AG)

Newlands

Silver Lakes

5

1 (residential)

2 (residential and leisure)

54

37

25

3 (functionally 2)

3

2

1.2

6.1

0.6

X 24%

T 46%

Cul-de-sac X 30% 0%

T 89%

Cul-de-sac X 11% 5%

10.9

10.2

8.7

158

163

192

A-B 165 2,200 13.3 16.32

A-C 890 1,560 1.8

A-D 895 2,130 2.4

A-B 940 1,100 1.2 21.3 [a]

A-C 175 400 2.3

A-D 620 870 1.4

A-B 450 1,460 3.2 17.2

4.8

8.1

6

3.9

5.3

4.2

4.8

6.9

7.5

2,139.7

1,432.7

1,294.5

16.1% 3.4%

22.3% 0.7%

9.6% 34.7%

T 69%

Cul-de-sac 26%

A-C 1,570 2,690 1.7

A-D 1,450 2,970 2

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Tshwane Urban Footprint Legend City of Tshwane Tshwane's urban footprint (excludes small holdings) Formal Informal Gated off areas

15

0

15

30

45 km

FIGURE  11.12 Tshwane’s urban footprint and gated areas. Gated off areas take up ± 14.4% of the built-up area of the city of Tshwane. Source: author.

The evolution of suburbia and the addition of a gated community at the extremity. Source: adapted from Marshall (2005).

FIGURE  11.13

in older cities the presence of social boundaries were strong enough to facilitate an acceptable level of control. But as cities expanded, suburban layouts started to reflect a new sense of order manifested through physical boundaries such as distance, road reserves, open spaces and a lack of access to public transport. Ultimately, a level of control could be restored by offering a reduced number of entrance points into the typical suburban layout. Gated communities, therefore, represent the ultimate evolution of suburbia (Figure 11.15).The physical boundaries are raised and the entrances controlled. Soft boundaries have become etched into the physical landscape through concrete and steel.

FIGURE 11.14

Typical suburban layouts that lend themselves to urban gating.

Source: author.

FIGURE  11.15 Evolution of modernistic planning in Tshwane. With sections (from left to right) of Brooklyn, Irene, Newlands and Silver Lakes. Source: adapted from Marshall (2005).

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Conclusions on urban gating: critical perspectives This chapter has reconsidered gated communities in terms of their morphology and their relationship to urban resilience. It has shown that gated communities represent an evolution of modern town planning principles that can be considered as the ultimate representation of ‘suburbia with a wall’. Therefore, in terms of morphology and function, typical gated communities are very different from complex and well connected medieval towns. Although some gated communities may be well-connected internally, most are disconnected with the larger urban fabric and display low levels of connectivity, diversity, intensity and proximity to facilities. They therefore tend, typically, to follow a tree-like structure, and hence the gated community can be considered as a tree. However, a city is and should not be a tree (Alexander 1966), since a tree is not resilient (Salat and Bourdic 2012). Among the policy implications of urban gating with regard to the indicators provided in this chapter, and especially concerning connectivity, are the increased cost of transportation and the associated increase in carbon emissions. Street design that promotes a lower rate of pollutants has: (1) Adequate percentage of land allocated to streets that has provision for alternative means of transport; (2) Efficiently designed streets that support traffic movement to reduce congestion; (3) Street design that allows for shorter trip configurations with multiple choices; (4) Mixed land use patterns that allow for shorter travel distances. (UN-Habitat, 2013: 37) In the case studies provided, the gated communities did not meet any of these requirements as they did not allow for alternative means of transportation and were specifically designed not to allow for the easy movement of traffic. Gated areas increase the length of journeys – due to their poor proximity and road configurations – and are characterised by a lack of variety in the use of land that contributes further to an increase in travelling distances.The focus on connectivity is an increasingly important feature of the drive for sustainable cities (UN-Habitat 2013) and urban resilience. As indicated in this chapter, typical tree-like structures do not perform well in terms of resilience. Given this fact, the typical gated community is not likely to be very resilient. Instead, there is a need for a city of ‘leaves’, i.e. neighbourhoods with leaf-like structures that will enhance resilience by accommodating complexity, connectivity, diversity, proximity and intensity. However, until such time as hard boundaries can be substituted with softer ones that enable greater levels of tolerance and acceptance; and until disruptions and disturbances in the urban system – such as crime – become less significant, it is likely that gated communities will remain a key feature of many South African cities.

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Although the case studies presented in this chapter are both from South Africa, urban gating is not a uniquely South African phenomenon. Many examples can be found in countries such as the United States, Brazil, Australia, Egypt and China, to name but a few. The global trend away from a well-connected configuration of streets and towards a disconnected suburban network can be seen across the world, and is evidenced in the report by UN-Habitat (2013) entitled Streets as Public Spaces and Drivers of Urban Prosperity. In the report, various city core and suburban areas are compared with each other, both historically, and using many of the same indicators provided within this chapter. Based on this similarity of trends across many of the countries of the world, it may be safe to assume that the more recent development of gated communities, globally, will exhibit similar results when measured against the indicators for resilience that have been presented in this chapter. If this is indeed the case it will require a much larger global rethink of the consequences of urban gating and its effects on our urban environment – not just in terms of connectivity, but also in terms of the overall resilience of the modern city.

Notes 1 2

Cul-de-sacs are also included when counting the number of intersections. T-junctions are preferred by traffic engineers because they have fewer possible collision points compared to an X-junction. In addition, they are also used to control the speed of vehicles on long sections of roads to which side-street access is afforded higher priority than mobility (which is the case in residential areas) (Marshall 2005).

References Ahern J. (2011) ‘From fail-safe to safe-to-fail:  Sustainability and resilience in the new urban world’ in Landscape and Urban Planning, vol. 100:  341–43 DOI:10.1016/j. landurbplan.2011.02.021 Alexander, C. (1966) ‘A city is not a tree’ in Design, vol. 206: 46–55 Allan, P., Bryant, M., Wirsching, C., Garcia, D. and Rodriquez, M. T. (2013) ‘The influence of Urban Morphology on the Resilience of Cities following the earthquake’ in Journal of Urban Design, vol. 18, no. 2: 240–62 Bourdic, L., Salat, S. and Nowacki, C. (2012) ‘Assessing cities: a new system of cross-scale spatial indicators’ in Build. Res. Inf, vol. 40: 592–605 (DOI: 10.1080/09613218.2012.703488) Buhl, J. Gautrais, J., Solé, R. V., Kuntz, P., Valverde, S., Deneubourg, D. L. and Theraulaz, G. (2004) ‘Efficiency and robustness in ant networks of galleries’ in The European Physical Journal B, vol. 42: 123–9 Cardillo, A., Scellato, S., Latora,V. and Porta, S. (2006) ‘Structural properties of planar graphs of urban street patterns’ in Physical Review E, vol. 73: 066107 Dewar, D. and Uytenbogaardt, R. (1991) South African Cities:  A  Manifesto for change. Cape Town: Urban Problems Research Unit and Urban Foundation Du Plessis, C. (2012) ‘Applying the theoretical framework of ecological resilience to the promotion of sustainability in the urban social-ecological system’, Paper presented at the 4th Annual CIB Conference: Smart and Sustainable Built Environments, Sao Paulo, June 2012.

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Ernstston, H., van der Leeuw, S. E., Redman, C. L., Meffert, D. J., Davis, G., Alfsen, C. and Elmquist, T. (2010) ‘Urban Transitions:  On Urban Resilience and Human-Dominated Ecosystems’ in Ambio, vol. 31: 531–45 Folke, C. (2006) ‘Resilience: The emergence of a perspective for social-ecological systems analyses’ in Global Environmental Change, vol 16: 253–67 Glaeser, E. (2011) Triumph of the City: How Our Greatest Invention Makes Us Richer, Smarter, Greener, Healthier, and Happier. New York: Penguin Herbert, S. (1997) Policing Space:  territoriality and the Los Angeles Police Department. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press Landman, K. (2008) ‘Editorial – Special issue: gated communities’ in Urban Design International, vol. 13: 211–12 Landman, K. (2010) ‘Gated minds, Gated Places:  The Impact and Meaning of Hard Boundaries in South Africa’ in Bagaeen, S. and Oduku, O. (eds), Gated Communities: Social Sustainability in Contemporary and Historical Gated Developments. London: Earthscan Landman, K. (2012) ‘Gated communities in South Africa: tensions between planning ideal and practice’ in South African Journal of Town and Regional Planning, vol. 61: 1–9. Landman, K. and Du Plessis, C. (2007) ‘The impact of gated communities on urban sustainability: a difference of opinion or a matter of concern?’ in SA Town and Regional Planning, vol. 51 (May): 16–25 Marshall, S. (2005) Streets and Patterns. New York: Taylor & Francis Newman, P., Beatley, T. and Boyer, H. (2009) Resilient Cities:  Responding to Peak Oil and Climate Change. Washington DC: Island Press Page, S. E. (2011) Diversity and Complexity. Princeton: Princeton University Press Pelling M. (2003) The Vulnerability of Cities. London: Earthscan Porta, S., Crucitti, P. and Latora, V. (2006) ‘The network analysis of urban streets:  a dual approach’ in Physica A,, vol. 369: 853–66 Resilience Alliance (2010) ‘Assessing Resilience in Social-Ecological Systems: Workbook for Practitioners’, available at: www.resalliance.org/3871.php (accessed 3 November 2011) Salat, S. (2011) Cities and forms on sustainable urbanism. CSTB Urban Morphology Laboratory: Hermann. Salat, S. and Bourdic, L. (2012) ‘Urban Complexity, Efficiency and Resilience’ in Morvaj, Z. (ed.) Energy Efficiency – a Bridge to Low Carbon Economy. In Tech, Online: 25–44. Also available at:  www.intechopen.com/books/energy-efficiency-a-bridge-to-low-carbon-economy/ urban-complexityefficiency-and-resilience (accessed 26 August 2013) Southworth, M. and Ben-Joseph, E. (2003) Streets and the Shaping of Towns and Cities. Washington: Island Press UN-Habitat (2013) Streets as Public Spaces and Drivers of Urban Prosperity. Nairobi: UN-Habitat Walker, B. and Salt, D. (2006) Resilience Thinking: Sustaining Ecosystems and People in a Changing World. Washington: Island Press

12 URBAN GATING IN CHILE Chuquicamata – a corporate mining town: ‘bounded territory within a territory’ Ignacio Acosta

Introduction Since the start of the twentieth century, the open-cast mine of Chuquicamata in northern Chile has contributed to globalisation processes by supplying large volumes of copper that have enabled global communication and information technologies to develop. Both the mine and the corporate town have been integrated into a global network of capitalist exchange. This essay discusses the Chuquicamata corporate town, and attempts to offer a revision of the dynamic relationship between gated communities and mining settlements, between exploitation and appropriation, between aesthetics and politics, and of history and image making. The first section presents Chile as an isolated and bounded territory. It argues that because politically stable Chile holds the world’s largest reserves of copper, it presents ideal conditions for the establishment of multinational corporations and of ‘transnational’ zones of exploitation, thereby contributing to the formation of a new geography of urban gating.The second section outlines the historical framework in which the contested site of Chuquicamata has developed.This history begins with the role of the leading finance capitalists in the world’s metal market during the twenty-first century – the Meyer Guggenheim family, who began large-scale extraction processes in 1915. It passes through the control of the mine by the Anaconda Corporation and the nationalisation of copper resources carried out by President Salvador Allende in 1971, and concludes with the closure of the settlement in 2007 when the population was displaced to the nearby city of Calama to enable the mining operations to grow. The third section analyses the urban structure of the mining settlement – which was created by the mine development company – and its closed social systems. The fourth and final section of the essay draws attention to the systems of visual representation chosen to approach globalisation dynamics through an exploration of copper hyper-mobilities and copper geographies.This visual contribution is

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a crucial element for understanding the contested urban space of Chuquicamata. As well as the written text, this essay presents a photographic series taken with a large format camera in 2012. These photographs use a topographical strategy of documentation and seek to uncover the hidden power structures of the town’s closed social system. This chapter stems from ‘Copper Threads:  How Documentary Photography Reveals the Uneven Geographical Development of the Chilean Copper Mining Industry and its Global Hypermobility?’ The research explores copper, a miraculous and paradoxical metal that is essential for nearly every human enterprise. The work addresses an urgent need to develop artistic approaches to contest the impact of extractive industries on the ecologies in which they operate. ‘Copper Threads’ evolves through a series of field survey explorations of geographically disparate landscapes historically connected by copper, making visible both the transformation of the ecologies in which it is extracted and its global circulation.The project develops diverse ways of mapping the transformed geographies of copper, including an objective documentary photographic approach using large format analogue cameras and writing on the political dynamics of place. ‘Copper Geography’ is a practice-based PhD programme, part of ‘Traces of Nitrate: Mining History and Photography Between Britain and Chile’, developed in collaboration with photographer Xavier Ribas and art and design historian Dr Louise Purbrick, based at the University of Brighton, and funded by the Arts and Humanities Research Council (AHRC).

New geographies of urban gating On the map, Chile presents itself as a curiosity.The long and narrow Latin American nation (4,300 km long by an average of 175 km across) appears geographically isolated from the metropolitan centres of the north and disconnected from the rest of the Latin American region. In fact, impenetrable natural barriers surround it. Lying between the high Andes Mountains to the east, the cold Pacific Ocean to the west, the Atacama Desert to the north and Antarctica to the south, Chile is a geographically bounded and isolated territory. Active volcanoes  – the product of the rift between the Nazca and South American tectonic plates – accompanied by a long history of earthquake activity, form its dramatic geography. These conditions have created an extraordinarily diverse landscape that contains a rich profusion of natural resources. Overflowing with mineral wealth, the land of Chile holds the largest reserves of copper on the planet and sits on the major copper porphyry deposits of the Andes Mountains. As Caputo and Galarce suggest, with just 0.5 per cent of the world’s territory Chile contains an impressive 35 per cent of its copper reserves. In fact, copper is the country’s main source of income, representing more than 60 per cent of total exports over the last few years. As such, the importance of copper to Chile is similar to that of oil to Venezuela or Saudi Arabia (Caputo and Galarce 2011). Consequently, the world’s principal copper mining operations can be found

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FIGURE 12.1 Aerial view of Chuquicamata Source: image © Servicio Aerofotométrico de la Fuerza.

within the national territory of Chile. These include the Escondida, currently the largest single producer of copper, and Chuquicamata, the largest open-cast copper mine in the world. Both are located in the northern region of Antofagasta, which was annexed from Bolivia after the Pacific War (1879–83) (Figure 12.1). As Alonso notes, its 4.5 km long x 3.5 km wide x 850 m deep open pit is deeper than the highest built structure in the world: the Burj Khalifa in Dubai. ‘Chuquicamata dominates an entire territory, not only because of the oceanic, sedimentary depth of this hole in the ground, but because of the nearby ranges of slag-heap mountains that its excavation constantly engineers’ (Alonso 2013).

Urban gating: structures and processes The Guggenheim brothers (Kennecott Copper) acquired the Chuquicamata site through their subsidiary, the Chile Copper Company, in 1913, with operations starting on 18 May 1915.1 The brothers believed in driving profit opportunities to the limit, and were, as O’Brien has suggested, ‘the corporate crown of a classic American success history’ (O’Brien 1989). Despite the fact that the primary source of their fortune came from the wholesale trade, the family consolidated the expansion of their wealth through ownership of other mining, smelting and refining businesses. Their empire extended worldwide through Utah, Alaska, Mexico, the Belgian Congo and Chile. Their companies’ use of advanced techniques of non-selective mechanised processes of extraction permitted the processing of larger

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volumes of material in a highly cost-effective way, revolutionising the whole industry in the process. The Guggenheim brothers pioneered the use of power shovels (from 1892), and the flotation system  – both of which completely reshaped the landscape of the mining sector. Driven by technological developments that permitted the processing of large quantities of material, the brothers imported systems of extraction, smelting and refining that were already in place in their US subsidiaries. Jones explains how the knowledge and processes developed in one country were applied across borders in order to maximise efficiencies and returns. This was the result of the capital intensive nature of the business, since long periods of preparation were needed before profits could be made (Jones 2005). In addition, technological developments powered the acceleration and transformation of the mining business ‘from a family-run, small scale, cottage speculation to a highly developed, large-scale, mechanized business’ (Culver and Reinhart 1989: 738). Economies of scale were needed for securing long-term growth and return of value, and therefore the key points of this historical shift lay in the development of new technology to process large amounts of material and high levels of investment. Jones argues that the legal framework in which the so-called ‘multinational’ developed in the United States from a centralised business operated by its owners towards being a much larger firm, contributed to a change in the scale of the business – one which permitted a new type of corporate power to develop, and one that facilitated the raising of capital (Jones 2005: 25). The Guggenheims formed the Chile Copper Company in 1910 (O’Brien 1989). At the time of their arrival on the scene, the nation’s primitive industry needed huge capital investment if it was to be operated profitably. As Schmitz suggests, the brothers’ major ventures in Chile changed not just the nation’s old-fashioned mining industry, but also contributed to a new direction of the modern world economy by ‘developing a new generation of giant, low-grade copper mines’ (Schmitz 1986:  396). Chuquicamata rapidly began contributing to the consolidation of the brothers’ dominant position as the leading finance capitalists in the world’s metal market.2 In 1923, and with the aim of investing in the nitrate industry, the Guggenheim brothers sold their mine to another US mining corporation: Anaconda. On 1 March 1923 Murry Guggenheim received the largest cheque in history at the time:  for US$70  million. Flushed with cash, the brothers were recognised as having the fourth largest fortune in the US (O’Connor 1976: 414) The Anaconda Corporation controlled the mine until the nationalisation of copper resources by the Chilean state, which was completed by Salvador Allende in 1971. This process evolved through 20  years of disputes between the North American copper mining corporations and the Chilean state. Some years later, the nationalisation of copper resources was reversed as part of the neoliberal policy implementation of the Pinochet dictatorship (1973–89). Characterised by strong property rights, free markets and free trade, the neoliberal regime privileged export-led growth industries over the import of foreign manufactured goods. Natural resources – including water, fishing and new mineral deposits (Harvey 2005a: 8) – were handed over to mostly unregulated exploitation by private companies. Although the Chilean State

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retained Codelco, including Chuquicamata3 as a key source of the financial viability of the state, today the mine contributes just 30 per cent of the total national output. The remaining 70 per cent is in hands of the transnational mining corporations.

Networks of power and social relations The corporate town of the Chuquicamata mine – which has the same name – was designed as a model town in the offices of the Guggenheim bothers in New York in the early decades of the twentieth century. More than 30 architects were hired to design its urban plan.4 The town grew up next to the mine, following the patterns of other mining settlements in the US, i.e. Butte, Bisbee and Tyrone. This runs counter to the general processes of global urban transformation that are usually generated by industrialisation: i.e. that access to transport networks determines where urban development takes place. Due the capitalist nature of mining endeavours, corporate towns are designed, according to Carter (2012: 50), to fulfil basic social necessities by maximising profits. They are thus both hypercapitalistic and socialist at the same time. The companies maintain dictatorship authority over the towns and the residents but provide for certain needs so that the workers stay happy and, much more important, productive. As result, both architectural formations and urban design are conceived in a typological form. While reducing substantially the costs by increasing efficiency, the standardisation and mass production of the architectural foundations of corporate towns can be seen as a reflection of the mechanised nature of the modern mining industry. In this way, it is important to recall that the functionality and profitability of industrial development is the main driving force behind the growth of corporate mining towns. As Carter (2012) suggests, to archive efficiency these closed urban systems must fulfil the basic needs of their inhabitants. This includes: housing, educational establishments for primary and secondary students, a healthcare system for the miners and their families, and retail and foodstuff businesses. The Guggenheim brothers financed the investment needed to plan and execute the urban settlement of Chuquicamata, including public services and a complete welfare, social and housing association system for the workers and their families. Within the confined zone of the town everything was subsidised by the company, including a modern hospital, primary and secondary educational institutions for the children, and housing schemes  – depending on the needs of each family. This paternalistic social system, which covered all basic needs, allowed workers to concentrate fully on their work. As a result, no one outside the corporate umbrella was allowed to live within the town’s boundaries: if a worker left his employment, he was also required to move out of town. Constructions were built initially as temporary structures. However, as the town expanded and the population settled, these structures became permanent. With

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regard to their spatial layout, concepts of social stratification and the division of labour influenced the urban design. These separations within a bounded territory had a strong impact upon the power relations created between inhabitants. To give one example, different ‘types’ of worker were given different ‘types’ of accommodations. These divisions respected institutional hierarchies in relation to skills, citizenship and marital status. Thus, the now-disappeared Campamento Americano settlement was created for US citizens only. It was located 3 km away from the main settlements for the local workforce, and represented the best type of accommodation available. To give another example, Campamento Nuevo was designed around a central square – similar to Tyrone in New Mexico, and other mining settlements in the US. The social divisions between different ‘types’ of worker reflected the closed urban systems created by the company in the first place. The production of copper increased over time and the mine grew to become the world’s biggest open-cast copper mine. Accordingly, the subsidised settlement expanded its capacity to fulfil the housing demands of the workforce. This process of expansion preserved, however, the town’s isolation from its natural surroundings. This was a key factor; partly a product of the tough geographical conditions of the Atacama Desert, and partly a result of Kennecott’s corporate policies which established a new legal regime that ran parallel to state sovereignty. Furthermore, these conditions created a ‘bounded territory within a territory’, an autonomous enclave controlled by foreign interests and responding to an international corporate legal framework within state sovereignty. The town was closed in 2007 when high levels of pollution became a threat to public health. At the time of its closure there were some 25,000 resident workers, who were subsequently relocated to the nearby city of Calama, where new neighbourhoods were being built that followed the same strategies of social segmentation and urban fragmentation.Today, the majority of its 140,000 inhabitants work around the mine. Since the evacuation, the town of Chuquicamata has been detached from its original function, i.e to accommodate the mine’s workforce. Its boundaries are fenced off and its buildings closed to habitation. Half of them are buried under a mountain of thousands of tons of waste material; the other half is abandoned and waiting to be consumed by the new artificial topography. Its boundaries are fenced and protected against unwanted guests. The remaining houses, banks, shops, schools and public spaces have been closed. Some iconic buildings remain open for daily tours run by the state mining corporation. While guides explain the material qualities of copper that permit today’s world of hyper-connectivity, as well as the importance of Chuquicamata to the local economy, visitors photograph fragments of its ghostly appearance. The closed social system that Kennecott once conceived as a fundamental structure of the urban configuration, has disintegrated; US investors have pulled out, local workers have been scattered throughout the national territory, and new spatial configurations have been built to absorb the growing workforce that is needed to run the mine.

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The future of urban gating: critical perspectives The new geography of globalisation is a product of transnational flows of capital and trade. David Held (1999: 16) claims that globalisation can be considered a process (or set of processes) which embodies a transformation in the spatial organization of social relations and transactions  – assessed in terms of their extensity, intensity, velocity and impact  – generating transcontinental or interregional flows5 and networks of activity, interaction, and the exercise of power. Sassen has identified a ‘geography of globalisation’ which is revealed ‘in terms of the strategic sites where global processes materialize and the linkages that bind them. Among these sites are export processing zones, off-shore banking centres, and, on a far more complex level, global cities’ (Sassen 1998). Those sites might not necessarily be geographically connected to each other, but are instead increasingly linked through modes of capital production across borders, forming the bases for the flows of trade and activity networks that Held discusses. A ‘new geography of power’ entitles a transformation of the physical space of global capitalism – which can be traced, represented and interpreted.The mediation of these spaces can achieved ‘through representational forms, such as documentation, written text, maps or photographs’ (Harvey 2006). In this respect, globalisation processes can certainly be understood through an examination of representational forms that examine the rupture that exists in the landscape where industry operates. There is an established tradition of documentary practices working with film and photography contesting the impact of globalization dynamics. Documentary practices become crucial for a production of space since they contest the way we perceive the impact of globalisation. My photographic practice explores the dynamic relationship between capital, landscape and politics. It aims to articulate neglected connections between distressed ecologies of resource exploitation, and centres on global consumption  – mainly between Latin America and Great Britain. I work on a long-term interconnected research project that involves photographic documentation using a large format view camera, as well as mapping, drawing and writing. Working with photographic series, I attempt to build what Allan Sekula called a ‘territory of images’ (Sekula 1983), which functions within and against neoliberal capitalism. The work aims to create a framework within which the viewer can understand the new geographical configuration produced by neoliberal capitalism. Current work on copper focuses on traces that remain in the landscape as result of its production, exchange and distribution. The photographic research produced explores copper hyper-mobilities and uneven geographies – two aspects of the nature of the metal business that are central to globalisation processes. The commodity, copper, has been chosen for two reasons:  first, its crucial historical

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role in forming the transnational corporation as it exists today; and, second, for its decisive function in contributing to the construction of a ‘virtual’ space that is inhabited by today’s worldwide information technologies, which are central to globalised development. This is linked to what Sassen has described as a ‘new geography of power’, which concerns a new territoriality of economic globalisation. This, in turn, deals first with ‘the actual territories where much globalisation materialises in specific institutions and processes’, and second with the development of a new legal regime for ‘governing cross-border economic transactions’, and third with a growing number of ‘economic activities happening in the electronic space’ (Sassen 1996). Chuquicamata can be seen as an exemplary case of a ‘transnational’ space created ‘for the circulation of capital’ (Sassen 1988). The ‘landscapes of resources and future wealth’ (Sörlin 2002) of Chuquicamata are presented through photographs of man-made sites transformed by geographies of corporate power. Chuquicamata certainly recounts a narrative of US imperial intervention in Latin America and its role in shaping the modern world economy. The typological strategy of documentation mirrors the seriality and repetitions of the built structures. The way of presenting these fragments  – as residues of a metropolitan/satellite structure of global capitalism – would like to suggest that the disappearance of the architectural formations underlies the disintegration of the closed social systems and the values introduced by the Guggenheim brothers. I would like to suggest that the disruption of Chuicamata’s architectural formations signifies the beginning of new era in which, as has been argued, Latin America rises as a global power6 (Guardiola-Rivera 2011). Finally, this chapter would like to propose the inverted open pit shape of Frank Lloyd Wright’s Guggenhem Museum in New York as part of a network of commodity exchange in which Chilean copper mining plays an important part. Both the museum and the corporate town can be read as post-industrial archaeologies that resist forgiving their history of exploitation. Perhaps the most relevant contemporary comment relates to the commodity’s hidden connections and the ways in which photography is able to articulate them. As Mimi Sheller (2012: 14) suggests, ‘we are bound up in metallic threads that fuse with our bodies, infiltrate our buildings, alter our way of life, and even make their silent way into our foods, makeup, antiperspirants and medicines’.

FIGURE 12.3

FIGURE 12.5

FIGUR E 12 . 2

FIGUR E 12 . 4

Documenting the disintegration of the Chuquicamata mining town7

FIGUR E 12 .8

FIGUR E 12 .6

FIGURE 12.9

FIGURE 12.7

FIGUR E 12 .12

FIGUR E 12 .10

FIGURE 12.13

FIGURE 12.11

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Notes 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

For more detail see Orellana Retamales (2004): 169–206. By 1918 American interests accounted for over 87 per cent of Chile’s copper output. For more see O’Brien (1989): 122+. Today, both the settlement and mine of Chuquicamata are still owned and managed by the state mining corporation Codelco, which produces roughly 11 per cent of the world’s copper. More on this can be found in Gutiérrez-Viñuales (2008): 74–91. ‘Flows refer to physical activities of artefacts, people or symbols, tokens of information across space and time, while networks refer to regularised or patterned interactions between independent agents, notes of activity, or sites of power’ (Held 1999). See more in Guardiola-Rivera (2011). The photographs that follow are the product of a field exploration survey undertaken in order to document the process of disintegration of the Chuquicamata corporate mining town.They are part of a series of 43 photographs titled ‘Chuquicamata, the Slag’. C-Type Prints, 50x40cm each. Edition of 5 (2012).

References Alonso, Pedro Ignacio (2013) ‘Mountaineering’ in AA Files, vol. 66: 81–6 Caputo, Orlando and Galarce, Garciela (2011) ‘Chile’s neoliberal reversion of Salvador Allende’s copper nationalization’ in Barra, X (ed.) Neoliberalism’s fractured showcase: another Chile is possible. Leiden: Brill Carter, Bill (2012) Boom, Bust, Boom. New York: Scribner Corporacion Del, Cobre (1975) El Cobre Chileno. Santiago: Corp del Cobre Culver, William W. and Reinhart, Cornel J. (1989) ‘Capitalist Dreams: Chile’s Response to Nineteenth-Century World Copper Competitio’ in Comparative Studies in Society and History, vol. 31, no. 4: 722–44 Demos, T. J. (2010) ‘Another World, and Another… Notes on Uneven Geographies’ in Demos, T.J. and Farquharson, A. (eds) Uneven Geographies:  Art and Globalisation. Nottingham: Nottingham Contemporary Fietzek, Gerti (2002) Documenta 11, Platform 5:  Exhibition, Catalogue. Fridericianum daM, Kassel: Hatje Cantz Girvan, Norman (1972) Copper in Chile: a study in conflict between corporate and national economy. University of the West Indies: Institute of Social and Economic Research Guardiola-Rivera, Oscar (2011) What if Latin America ruled the world?: How the South will take the North through the 22nd century. London: Bloomsbury Gutiérrez-Viñuales, Alejo (2008) ‘Chuquicamata:  patrimonio industrial de la miner ía del cobre en Chile’ in Apuntes: Revista de Estudios sobre Patrimonio Cultural – Journal of Cultural Heritage Studies, vol. 21: 74–91 Hardt, Michael and Negri,Antonio (2000) Empire. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press Harvey, David (2005a) A brief history of neoliberalism. Oxford: Oxford University Press Harvey, David (2005b) The new imperialism. Oxford: Oxford University Press Harvey, David (2006) Spaces of global capitalism. London: Verso Held, David (1999) (ed.) Global Transformations:  Politics, Economics and Culture. Stanford University Press Jones, Geoffrey (2005) Multinationals and global capitalism: from the nineteenth to the twenty-first century. Oxford: Oxford University Press Kiely, Ray (2010) Rethinking imperialism. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan

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Moran, Theodore Harvey (1974) Multinational corporations and the politics of dependence: copper in Chile. Princeton, London: Princeton University Press O’Brien, Thomas F (1989) ‘“Rich beyond the dreams of avarice”:  the Guggenheims in Chile’ in Business History Review, vol. 63, no. 1: 122+ O’Connor, Harvey (1976) The Guggenheims. The making of an American dynasty. New York: Arno Press Orellana Retamales, Luis (2004) ‘La lucha de los mineros contra las leyes:  Chuquicamata (1900–1915)’ in Historia (Santiago), vol. 37: 169–206 Sassen, Saskia (1988) The mobility of labor and capital: a study in international investment and labor flow. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press Sassen, Saskia (1996) Losing control?: sovereignty in an age of globalization. New York, Chichester: Columbia University Press Sassen, Saskia (1998) ‘The Global City: Strategic Site, New Frontier’ in Laguillo, M., Manolo Laguillo: Barcelona 1978–1997. Barcelona: Museu d’Art Contemporani de Barcelona Schmitz, Christopher (1986) ‘The Rise of Big Business in the World Copper Industry 1870–1930’ in The Economic History Review, vol. 39, no. 3: 392–410 Sekula, Allan (1983) ‘Photography between Labour and Capital’ in Shedden, L., Macgillivray, D., Sekula, A. and Halifax, N.S. (eds) Mining photographs and other pictures 1948–1968: a selection from the negative archives of Shedden studio Glace Bay Cape Breton. The Press of the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design Sheller, Mimi (2012) ‘Metallic Modernities in the space age:  Visualizing the Caribbean, Materializing the Modern’ in Rose, G. and Tolia-Kelly, D.P. (eds) Visuality/materiality: images, objects and practices. Farnham: Ashgate Smith, Neil (2010) Uneven development: nature, capital, and the production of space. London: Verso Sörlin, Sverker (2002) ‘Can places travel?’ in Fietzek, G. (ed.) Documenta 11, Platform 5: Exhibition, Catalogue. Documenta and Museum Fridericianum, Kassel: Hatje Cantz

INDEX

Page numbers in italics are figures; with ‘t’ are tables. Abaza, M. 16 Acosta, Ignacio 5, 227–37 adaptive capacity 207–8 Ad Busters 44 admittance 33, 36–7, 176 Africa 17–18; see also South Africa agriculture: Australia 148; Israel 172; Puebla (Mexico) 184; Thailand 101; in Western Cape Province 133, 144, 146–8 Alaily-Mattar, N. 20, 203 Alexander, Christopher 203 Allan, P. 204 Allende, Salvador 227, 230 Allison, Graham 33–4 Alonso, Pedro Ignacio 229 American embassy (Lima) 14 Anaconda Corporation 227 Analco (Puebla) neighbourhood 197 anti-gating 67, 86 anti-social behaviour, Ireland 115–19, 122–4, 126–8 Arboledas de San Ignacio (Puebla) 188 Arendt, Hannah 38 Aronis, C. 175 Arts and Humanities Research Council (AHRC) 228 Atkinson, R. 16, 94, 100 Australia 148 automobiles 188, 189, 190–2, 193, 194 awareness training for mayors 196–7 Azaryahu, M. 12

Badenhorst, W. 55 Bagaeen, Samer 4, 5, 9–23, 15, 171 Bahamann, D. 55 balconies 174–5 Bangkok see Thailand ‘Bank of Ideas’ 42 banks, international 193 Baumgartner, M.P. 179–80 Beckett, K. 115 Beirut (Lebanon) 20–1 belonging: Ireland 117; Israel 175, 177; Johannesburg 52, 54, 56, 57, 58, 60, 61–2; Thailand 91 Berkeley (California) 38 Bhabba, H. 3 BIDs see business improvement districts (BIDs) Bird-David, Nurit 171 Blakely, Edward 14, 17, 34, 66, 94, 108 Blandy, S. 16, 94, 100 borders 13, 130; cross- 9, 23, 233, 234; liminal 175–7 Bourdic, L. 205, 211, 217, 219 Brady, William 114–58 Brazil 23 Britain 15–16, 15; Occupy London movement 26–30, 27, 28, 29, 39, 40–3 Brooklyn (neighbourhood in Tshwane) 208, 210, 211–13, 212, 215, 215–16, 216, 218, 218, 220t, 223 Brown, D.L. 131

Index

Brown, W. 54 Brubaker, R. 51–2 Brun, G. 195 Brunn, S. 11, 14, 19–20 Brzezinski, Z. 28–9 Budapest (Hungary) 18 business improvement districts (BIDs) 30, 31 Cairo (Egypt) 16 Callan, D. 38 Canada: anti-gating 67; awareness training for mayors 196–7; condominiums 156–7; see also Toronto Cape Town (South Africa) 131, 133, 134, 136–7, 143, 145 Caputo, Orlando 228 Cardillo, A. 213 Carter, Bill 231 census, Johannesburg 57–61, 62 Chakrabarti, V. 195 Chavis, D. 91, 95, 98 Chile 138, 148; see also Chuquicamata Chile Copper Company 230 China 10, 68, 225 Chipkin, Clive 49, 55, 56 Chipuer, J. 98 Choay, F. 195 Chuquicamata (Chile) 1, 2, 227–8, 235–7; future of urban gating 233–4; networks of power and social relations 231–2; new geographies of urban gating 228–9, 229; structures and processes 229–31 Church of England, and Occupy London 41 CIDs (common interest developments) 30–2, 35, 37–9, 94, 156 Cities in a World Economy (Sassen) 11 citizen resistance 197 citizenship empowerment 197–8 Clavijero (Puebla) 197–8 club model 19, 21, 30, 34, 67, 87 Coaffee, J. 14 Cock, J. 56 Colomina, B. 176 Colonia Centro (Puebla) 187 Common Interest Communities (CICs) 156 common interest developments (CIDs) 30–2, 35, 37–9, 94, 156 Community Associations (CAs) 156 complexes, South African defined 53 complexity 206, 207, 210, 211t condo-ism 155, 165; see also Toronto

241

condominiums 30, 154–6, 155; see also Toronto conflict, and fortification 9, 10–14, 11 connectivity 206, 207, 210, 211t, 212–15, 213–17, 218, 224 copper mining 227–34, 229 Cork (Ireland) 3, 115, 119, 120t, 121, 122–4, 124–5, 126 corruption, Puebla (Mexico) 192–3 covenants 30, 35, 36, 38, 39 Coy, M. 23 crime 15, 16; fear of 10–11, 13, 19, 20, 186; Latin America 18; South Africa 52, 58; Thailand 109; see also policing criteria of entry 36–7 critical perspectives on the future of urban gating 43–4 Cromartie, J.B. 131 Csefalvay, Z. 18 ‘culture of avoidance’ 179–80 cyclomatic numbers 214–15, 215 Danielson, K.A. 94 Davis, Mike 14–15 debates in urban gating 18–21, 30–2, 203–4; Ireland 114–18; Johannesburg 56–7; Pretoria 203–4; South Korea 65–6; Western Cape of South Africa 130–1; see also Thailand definitions 2–5, 53; ‘gated’ 2–3, 16–17, 94; rural 130 democracy, direct 42–3 densification/intensification: France 196; Korea 73; Toronto 155, 157, 158, 160t, 161, 164, 165; Tshwane (Pretoria) 208, 211, 211t, 212, 217–19, 218, 220t, 220–1t, 224; Western Cape Province 130, 139, 140, 141, 142, 144 density ‘bonusing’ 161–2 Denyer, S. 17–18 Dewar, D. 206, 208 disassociation 3 diversity 207, 210–12, 211t, 218, 224 documentary practices 233 Dubai 5 Dublin (Ireland) 115, 116, 118, 119, 120t Duca, Federica 4, 5, 49–62 Du Plessis, C. 203–4 Dupuis, A. 182 economic function of gated communities 18–19 Eko Atlantic project 5 elites 9–10, 56–7, 62, 138; global 21, 23

242

Index

El Pilar gated community 186 emergence 207 ‘emergency cities’ 195 ‘enclosure’ 2 environmental assessments, Western Cape Province 131–2, 135, 139, 146–8, 149 Essence of Decision (Allison) 33 estates, South African 53, 54–6 ethnography 35 exclusion/inclusion 1, 3, 4, 5, 10, 21; Ireland 128; Israel 172; South Korea 71 exposure, fear of 177 Fayel, Guy 5, 170–82 fear 10–11, 13, 19, 20, 186; of crime 15, 16, 21, 67, 109, 176, 180, 180–1; of exposure 177 fences/walls 32–3 Flint, J. 115 fortification 4, 16, 23; and conflict 9, 10–14, 11–13, 14, 170; of individual houses 181, 182; see also militarisation fragmentation 34–5, 55–6, 57, 67, 71, 92, 206; and conflict 6, 9, 10, 21, 22, 23; Puebla (Mexico) 184–5, 195, 198–9 France: Montpellier Territorial Project 199; urban development 195–6, 196 Fraser, N. 115–16 Frêche, Georges 199 Frekel, J. 55 future of urban gating 21, 23; Chuquicamata (Chile) 233–4; Ireland 127–8; Johannesburg 61–2; and the Occupy movement 43–4; South Korea 84–7, 86; Western Cape of South Africa 148–9 Galarce, Graciela 228 Garak Siyeong apartment complex (Seoul) 74–7, 75, 77, 84 Garden City 55 ‘gated’ 10; defined 2–3, 16–17, 94 Gated Communities (Sardar) 18 ‘gated lives’ 19–20 ‘gated minds’ 19–20 gating, individual 170–82 ‘generic cities’ 195 ‘geographies of centrality’ 10, 23 ‘geographies of globalisation’ 233 ‘geographies of marginality’ 10 geographies of urban gating 21; Chile 228–9, 229; Chuquicamata (Chile) 227, 228–9, 229; Ireland 119, 122–6, 124, 125; Israel 172–4; and the Occupy movement

39–43; South Korea 70–1, 72, 73–4, 73t; Western Cape, South Africa 132, 144, 149 globalization 54, 163, 227, 234; ‘geographies of ’ 233 Goffman, E. 175, 176 golf estates and suburbs study 49–56, 49–62, 57–63 Gordon, L. 115–16 groupism 51–2 Guenet, Michel 5, 184–99, 185 Guggenheim brothers 227, 229–30, 231, 234 Guillame, P. 55 Gun Wharf Quays (Portsmouth) 15 Habermas, J. 192 Hall, Jonathan 114–28 Harvey, David 37 Havermans, D. 18–19 Held, David 233 Herbert, S. 115 history, gated communities 17 Holmes, J. 146 Home Owners Associations (HOAs) 156; Johannesburg 50–1, 55, 59–60, 61, 62; United Kingdom 94 identity 19, 38, 57, 62 immigration, Canada 163–4 impression management 36, 175, 176, 179 inclusion/exclusion 1, 16, 17, 19–20, 44; South Korea 71 individual gating, Israel 170–82 influence, and sense of community 91 Integrated Development Plan (IDP) (Western Cape Province) 140, 145, 149 integration and needs fulfilment 91 intensity see densification/intensification international relations 28–9, 34 intuition 52 Ireland: future of urban gating 127–8; networks of power and social relations 126–7; new debates in urban gating 114–18; new geographies of urban gating 119, 120t, 121, 122–6, 124, 125; structures and processes 118–19 Irene (neighbourhood in Tshwane) 208, 209–10, 211–13, 212, 216–18, 218, 220–1t, 223 Isle of Dogs (London) 16 Israel 17; Ma’ale Adumim (Jerusalem) 11; militarisation 12–13; see also kibbutzim/ moshavim Israeli Science Foundation 171

Index

Jacob, J. 181 Japan 148 Johannesburg (South Africa) 3–4, 49–56; future of urban gating 61–2; networks of power 57–61; new debates in urban gating 56–7 Jones, Geoffrey 230 junctions of roads 213–14, 213, 214 Kenna, Theresa 3, 4, 5, 114–28 keywords 115–16, 123–4 kibbutzim/moshavim 13, 17, 173, 178; new geographies of gating 172–4; structures and processes 174–7, 178, 179–81 Kim, Hee-Seok 5, 65–87 Kolb, D. 54–5 Lagos 5, 7 Lampedusa (near Malta) 5 Landman, Karina 3–4, 5, 20, 55, 203–25 laneways in Ireland 114, 115, 117–19, 121, 122–4, 124–5, 126–8 Lang, R.E. 94 Lapierre, L. 195 Las Vegas (Nevada) 38, 68 Latin America 18, 21, 171; see also Brazil; Chile; Chuquicamata (Chile); Lima (Peru); Puebla (Mexico) lattice/semi-lattice see trees/leaves metaphor of cities/neighbourhoods leaves see trees/leaves structure of cities/ neighbourhoods Lefebvre, Henri 154 Le Goix, R. 39 Lemanski, C. 56 Lima (Peru) 13–14, 21, 22 liminal spaces 174–82 Linehan, Denis 114–28 local municipalities (LMs), Western Cape Province 131, 133, 139–40, 144, 145 ‘local public goods’ 67, 70, 73t, 84 ‘lollipop’ layouts 207 Lomas de Angelopolis (Puebla) 187, 188, 189, 190, 191, 193–4, 198 London: Occupy London movement 26–30, 27, 28, 29, 39, 40–3; York Terrace West 12 Long, D.A. 98 Longlands Country Estate (Western Cape Province) 147–8 Los Heroes de Puebla 193, 194 Low, Setha 33

243

Ma’ale Adumim (Jerusalem) 11 McHugh, K.E. 144 McKenzie, E. 16, 38 McMillan, D. 90–1, 95, 98 malls, shopping 31, 32, 39 management of communities 16, 35, 36, 51, 57, 60, 61, 70, 94, 139, 156; open suburbs in South Africa 61, 62; see also Common Interest Communities (CICs); common interest developments (CIDs); Home Owners Associations (HOAs) Marais, H. 57 Marshall, S. 213 Martin, Trayvon 5 mayors, and awareness training 196–7 medieval modernity 56 membership, and sense of community 91 mental image of community 185–6 Milián Ávila, Guadalupe María 5, 184–99 militarisation 9, 14–16, 23 mind map concept 185, 186–7 Minghi, J.V. 13 Minto 162–3 Minton, A. 15 Missisauga condominiums (Canada) 158 Mitchell, Don 35, 38, 115 mobility, Puebla (Mexico) 187–8, 188–91, 190–2 Monbiot, George 41 Montpellier Territorial Project (France) 199 moral minimalism 179 Morency, P. 195 morphology, urban 204, 205, 208–19, 209–10, 211t, 212–18, 219, 224 moshavim/kibbutzim 4, 13, 17, 173, 178; new geographies of gating 172–4; structures and processes 174–7, 178, 179–81 Nader, L. 57 Nauru 5 Nel, Darren 3–4, 5, 203–25 Nel, P. 144 net widening 115, 117 networks of power and social relations 37–9; Chile 231–2; Ireland 126–7; Israel 181; Johannesburg 57–61; South Korea 74–9, 75, 77, 78, 80, 81, 82, 83–4; Western Cape, South Africa 138–9, 149 Newlands (neighbourhood in Tshwane) 208, 209–10, 212, 212, 213, 216, 218, 221t, 223 Nezar, A. 56 Nixon, J. 115 ‘no cities’ 195

244

Index

node-grams, Tshwane neighbourhoods 213, 214 ‘nomad cities’ 195 non-metropolitan/metropolitan, Western Cape Province 130, 131, 132, 133, 134, 145 Oakeshott, Michael 33 O’Brien, Thomas F. 229 Occupy movement 6, 40, 43–5; Occupy London 26–30, 27, 28, 29, 39, 40–3; Occupy Wall Street (OWS) 40–1 ‘octopus cities’ 195 Ontario Municipal Board (OMB) 162–3 Ontario Planning Act 161 open neighbourhoods: Johannesburg 49–52, 53, 55, 58, 60–2; Pretoria (Tshwane) 205, 208, 219 openness 33, 43, 44 order/disorder, and public spaces 179 Osborne Foreshore (Ikoyi Island, Lagos) 7 Oudtshoorn LM (Western Cape Province) 139, 143, 144 outsourcing 38–9 Panerai, P. 195 Paternoster Square (London) 40–1, 44 pedestrians: and French urban development 195–6, 196; in kibbutzim/moshavim 175–7; and laneways in Ireland 114, 115, 117–19, 121, 122–4, 124–5, 126–8; South Korea 71, 72, 74, 76, 77, 79, 81, 83 Pellegrino, P. 195 Perkins, D. 98 Phillips, M. 12 photography, as documentation 233, 235–7 physical function of gated communities see security Pinçon, Michel and Monique 57 Piquard, B. 10, 12 Pistorius, Oscar 5, 53, 54 planning authorities, Western Cape Province 131–2, 139–40 Polanyi, Karl 38 polarisation, social 15–16, 17, 55 policing, of protests 31 post-productivism 132, 148, 149 poverty 15–16, 21, 22, 54 Pow, C.P. 7n5 power, politically 3 Pretoria 5, 53; see also Tshwane Pretty, G. 98 price of housing 36, 69, 73, 103, 104t, 105

Priest, C. 10 Primark 38 privacy 14, 19; Israel 171, 173, 174, 176, 177, 180; Korea 81 proximity 208, 211t, 215–17, 216–17, 224 ‘publicness’/‘privateness’ 74, 76, 86; see also privacy public services 38; Chuquicamata 231; Korea 67–8, 70; Mexico 191, 197–8; Thailand 92; Toronto 164; Western Cape 135, 142 public spaces 34; made into private spaces 39, 74, 188; and order/disorder 179; and the Other 177; and security 113; see also laneways Puebla (Mexico) 184–99, 185; mobility 187–8, 188–91, 190–2; networks of power and benefits of gating 192–4; sustainable development 194–8 Purbrick, Louise 228 Putnam, R.D. 34 quality of life 90, 91, 107, 108, 109, 173, 186, 195 rational actor model 33–4 Razac, O. 54 Razin, E. 17, 170 Records of Decision 135, 146 redevelopment, South Korea 69–70, 74–9, 75, 77, 80, 81, 81, 83–4 Reintman, Ingrid 60 Residents Associations 51, 61, 62, 94 resilience, urban 203, 204, 205–8, 211t, 218, 224 retirement gated developments 142, 143, 144 Ribas, Xavier 228 risk transference 181 Robinson, P. Stuart 5, 6 Roitman, S. 18, 55 Rosen, Gillad 3, 5, 17, 170 Rotary Club 144 Roy, A. 56 Royal Institution of Chartered Surveyors (UK) 15 rural 130–1, 173 St Paul’s Cathedral (London) 26, 28, 29–30, 39 Salat, S. 205, 211, 217, 219 Salt, D. 203 San Borja (Lima) 13 Sarason, S.B. 91

Index

Sardar, Z. 9; Gated Communities 18 Sassen, Saskia 1–2, 6, 9, 18, 23, 54, 114, 198, 233; Cities in a World Economy 11 Schmidt, Carl 33 security 21; from crime 15, 16, 18, 34, 52, 180–1; and public spaces 113, 115; see also anti-social behaviour; fortification; militarisation security landscapes 10, 11–12, 11–13 segregation: Chuquicamata copper mining town 232; Puebla (Mexico) 185, 198–9; South Africa 55, 57, 62, 130, 149; Thailand 93 Sekula, Allan 233 selective admittance 37 selective attraction 36 self-organisation 207, 208 Sennett, R. 177 sense of community: Thailand 90–2, 94–5, 96–7t, 98–100, 103, 104–6, 105–9 Sense of Community Index-2 (SCI-2) 96–7t, 98–9, 106t, 107–8 Sense of Community Index (SCI) 95, 98, 107 Seoul (South Korea) see South Korea Shamir, R. 37 shared emotional connection, and sense of community 91 Sheller, Mimi 234 Shirlow, P. 11–12 Silver Lakes (neighbourhood in Tshwane) 210, 210, 212, 212, 213, 216, 218, 218, 221t, 223 Singapore 67 Slum Dwellers International 6 Smeets, J. 18–19 Snyder, M.G. 14, 34, 66, 94, 108 social action 186, 219 social capital 179 social control 36 social function of gated communities 18–19 social networking 44 social relations 19; see also networks of power and social relations social space, control of 31 Soffer, A. 13 soft boundaries 19, 21, 208, 219, 222, 224 Soja, E. 2 solidarity 198–9 South Africa: historical gated communities 20; see also Johannesburg; Pretoria South Korea: future of urban gating in 84–7, 86; networks of power and social relations 74–9, 75, 77, 78, 80, 81, 82,

245

83–4; new debates in urban gating 65–6; new geographies of urban gating 70–1, 72, 73–4, 73t; structures and processes 68–70 space 1; liminal 174–82; social and physical 19–20, 195 spatial fragmentation 34–5, 55–6 spatial segregation/distance 17, 19, 20–1 Spocter, Manfred 4, 5, 130–49 static transformation 51, 61, 62 Stellenbosch LM (Western Cape Province) 145 Strata-Title Developments 94 Streets as Public Spaces and Drivers of Urban Prosperity (UN-Habitat) 224, 225 structures and processes 32–3; Chuquicamata (Chile) 229–31; Ireland 118–19; Israel 174–7, 178, 179–81; Pretoria 204–8; South Korea 66–7; Thailand 92–3, 93 suburbs, and golf estates study 49–62 sustainability, social 90 sustainable development 90; Pretoria 204; Puebla (Mexico) 194–8 Suwannasang,Veeramon 5, 90–109 Swellendam LM (Western Cape Province) 139, 140, 141, 142 Swellendam Spatial Development Framework (SDF) 140 Swenarton, M. 10 symbolism, and gating 18–19, 54, 180 terminology 2–5 territoriality 4, 6, 234; see also fortification Thailand: sense of community 90–2, 94–5, 96–7t, 98–100, 101–2, 103, 104–6, 105–9; structures and processes 92–3, 93 themes of the book 3; see also future of urban gating; networks of power and social relations; new debates; new geographies; structures and processes Thorns, D. 182 Thorp, S. 15–16 Toronto (Canada) 3; condo-ism 157–8, 158, 159–61t, 162 traffic congestion: and connectivity 206, 207, 210, 211t, 212–15, 213–17; Puebla (Mexico) 187–8, 188–91, 190–3 transnational corporations (TNCs) 35, 37–8, 234 ‘transnational’ space 234 trees/leaves structure of cities/ neighbourhoods 203, 204, 205, 208, 218, 224 trespass 14, 15, 71, 72, 73t, 81, 176

246

Index

Tshwane (Pretoria): networks and boundaries 219, 222, 222–3; new debates in urban gating 203–4; new morphologies of urban gating 208–19, 209–10, 211t, 212–18; South Africa) 203; structures and processes 204–8 Tsurnamal, V. 181 Uduku, Ola 9, 171 UN-Habitat 224, 225 United States: agriculture and gated communities 148; and Chilean copper 230, 234; ‘culture of avoidance’ 179–80; embassy in Lima (Peru) 14; gated communities 30, 35; liminal spaces 174; value of nature reserves 147 urban development 23, 115, 206, 207; and condo-ism 164, 165; Puebla (Mexico) 195–7, 198; and transport networks 231 urban edge 133, 135, 136 urban gating 3, 10 urban morphology 204, 205, 208–19, 209–10, 211t, 212–18, 219, 224

urban resilience 203, 204, 205–8, 211t, 218, 224 Uytenbogaardt, R. 206, 208 Vernez Moudon, A. 195 Vesselinov, Elena 35 Walker, B. 203 Walks, Alan 3, 5 walls/fences 32–3; see also kibbutzim/ moshavim Webster, Chris 34–5, 38 West Bank 21 Western Cape Province (South Africa) 4, 135–7; future of urban gating 148–9; networks of power and social relations 138–9, 149; new debates 130–1; new geographies 132, 144, 149 Wilson-Doenges, G. 95, 106t, 107 Wilson, G.A. 132, 146 windows 174, 176, 177 yards see liminal spaces Zona Angelopolis (Puebla) 187