Wednesday, July 16, 2003

Paranoid Urbanism: Enclaves in Johannesburg


Published in Archis #5 2003

South Africa. The first free elections in 1994 turned the whites’ political, social and economic position upside-down. This challenge to white status was accompanied by insecurity about the future. In Johannesburg, the increasing crime rate across the city prompted an exodus of major first-world investors. Africans, previously confined to living outside the city proper in townships or ‘homelands’ started to move into the rest of the city. In response to this black ‘invasion’ the whites fled north in a spatial exodus that only the developers could keep up with. Most businesses migrated from downtown to the northern suburbs so as to be far away from ‘deteriorating’ downtown and ‘dangerous’ Soweto. Within seven years, a whole new suburban city – Standton – had been built in the north by speculators with new office blocks, a new financial centre, new malls, and new houses. Most of the developers’ plans consisted of walled and themed environments.

In Johannesburg, crime is the common topic of conversation among all races and classes. Stories, hearsay, anecdotes, mass media reports, even jokes amplify the threat of crime. Especially amongst the middle class, insecurity about the future, phobia about being the object of hostility and fear of losing possessions has grown into absolute intolerance of the ‘others’ and dramatic magnification of the need for self-defence. Paranoia about the unknown ‘others’, long suppressed under the protection of Apartheid, broke out with a vengeance once that protection was removed. Architecturally, the excessive self-defensiveness, the urge to counterattack, the desire to re-assume power and the longing for temporary mental escape from the unpleasant context, resulted in one logical solution: the fortified enclave.

The violent situation was skilfully exploited by the speculative development sector; high security ‘cluster homes’ and ‘office parks’ were launched, replete with extreme measures for combating crime. The enclave’s strategy for physical security can be summed up in one word, ‘fortification’. This fortification manifests itself in automatic gates operated by remote control, gatehouses manned by security guards, electrified fencing, surveillance cameras, rapid armed response by private security armies, lighting throughout the property, panic buttons, burglar-proof bars, built-in sirens, watch dogs, and spikes, broken glass, razor wire on top of walls, et cetera. Most of the enclaves have a single entry point; every time someone wants to enter, their personal details and the reason for their visit are recorded by security guards.

The characteristics of the enclaves – mono-functional, enclosed by walls and introverted – allow them to be built anywhere regardless of context. These walled and armed environments, filled with an array of programmes, both public and private, are located randomly in Johannesburg’s dry and boring landscape, like oases in the desert. Traditional public spaces, such as parks and squares, are less and less used since they are more likely to be exposed to crime. Emerging semi-public spaces like casinos, shopping malls, entertainment centres, gyms, golf clubs, have fully embraced the enclave principle by controlling access and so securing the commercial and communal environment.

While fortification provides physical protection, the demand for psychological security is satisfied by the architectural styles of the enclaves. Behind walls, all building typologies are European and historically styled; Victorian, Tudor, Mediterranean, Medieval and Georgian themed backdrops allude to safety and moral rectitude, allowing an unpleasant context to be psychologically denied. The theme park is the unconscious architectural strategy; super-reality and idyllic settings serve to replace the real world with an imaginary one. This escapism steers the mental image of reality to an interface between ‘somewhere else’ and ‘here and now’. Given the barren landscape and violent context, architecture in Johannesburg is obliged to provide an enhanced lifestyle in order to keep its inhabitants from emigrating. Every house has a lush garden, barbecue, swimming pool, or even tennis court. Dainfern, the biggest estate enclave in Sandton even has a golf course and clubhouse at the centre of the estate.

Johannesburg’s ‘bad’ taste is, however, fairly tame compared with that of Los Angeles. It is marked not by exuberance but by a mediocrity inspired by embarrassment and fear. Parading one’s wealth can have undesirable and predictable consequences such as kidnapping and robbery. This embarrassment and fear leads to the repressed desire for hedonism and that in turn results in mediocre vulgarity. Architecture best reflects this embarrassment: one lives in a Mediterranean villa, goes shopping in an Italian mall, works in a Tudor Mansion, relaxes in Caesar’s Palace, but all styles and gestures are hidden behind fortifications.

Paranoia is a significant determinant of new developments in Johannesburg. The enclaves are the spaces where middle-class Johannesburgers live, work and play nowadays. Fortification of the enclaves in the interests of physical safety is turning Johannesburg into a landscape of surveillance; the historic and European styles of enclave architecture – a form of psychological escape – are rapidly transforming the city into a giant theme park. Unless one is aware of that fear and paranoia, large parts of present-day Johannesburg do not make sense. But how will this evolve in the future?

Five scenarios for the future of paranoid Johannesburg
The following 5 scenarios are reflections of the nightmare images of what is currently happening or desired. The extreme prejudices and paranoia vis à vis ‘the others’ is manifested in the way the city is organized. In these scenarios, the Have-nots are represented by their movements and aspirations. The Haves are represented by their tools and tactics for modifying and defending their spaces. These 5 scenarios should serve as negative models and as metaphors that also apply outside the context of Johannesburg.

Scenario 1: Berlin Wall Model
Haves immediately erect a huge wall between themselves and the Have-nots.
Consequence
Absolutely no interaction between the two.
Resurrection of Apartheid, only cruder this time.

Scenario 2: Chinese Wall Model
Rows of walls are erected in the north. Located at openings in the walls, along the Highway of Emulation, are check points to control the entry of former Have-nots. But the Hotbed for Emulators is the only route by which Have-nots can acquire a different status.

Consequence
If entering the enclaves is the only aspiration for Have-nots, the Hotbed is crucial to their prospects of empowerment. Competition in the Hotbed will be fierce and the examination strict, but because of this whoever passes through the check points will be treated as an equal in the north. This system suggests that if one wants to become a member of Haves, there is no short cut. There is at least a sense of fairness. The landscape is divided into hierarchical layers with very strict caste system.

Scenario 3: Run-Away Model
As in the other models, those Have-nots who gain entry to the enclaves via the Hotbed and the Highway of Emulation, will become respected members of Haves society. Those who do not emulate and simply move to the north, lingering in the vicinity of the enclaves, make the Haves very nervous. The Haves build more enclaves further north and abandon those to the south in order to stay as far as possible from the ‘invasion’ and ‘threat’ of the Have-nots.

Consequence
Infinite sprawl. Ex-peripheries become new centres and ex-centres become peripheries. Little attempt at integration. Paranoia and escapist mentality of the Haves can radically transform life in the north.

Scenario 4: Medieval Model
With a limited number of former Have-nots successfully entering the enclaves and a majority of Have-nots moving freely and without access control to the north, Haves secure themselves behind thicker and higher walls. Several enclaves are merged into larger units and security measures are stepped up.

Consequence
The walls around individual properties or smaller enclaves start to disappear. The asphalt inside the enclaves can be replaced by parks, gardens or leisure facilities. The increased security measures around these large enclaves will lead to the establishment of small city-states, controlled and protected by private armies. And this will be the new type of wall.


Scenario 5: Secret Box Model
Technology is used to increase complexity and make it more difficult for would-be intruders. Shutters, controlled by Haves and their private armies, close off parts of the city at random times and places in order to make the pattern of the city irregular. It will be impossible for anyone to enter the enclaves if they do not know when and where to enter.

Consequence
The city is a seemingly open system with extremely brutal yet subtle, intricate and sophisticated mechanisms of exclusion. The north will become a giant labyrinth leading to the establishment of secret societies, with access codes only made available to private members with a similar mentality and interests; club membership is subject to the strictest scrutiny – the ultimate system of exclusion. The infrastructure will be privatized and lose its status as a universal right of the free citizen.


Inverting the horror of the wall
The lack of education and opportunities for Have-nots during Apartheid led to unemployment in the post-Apartheid era. Many Have-nots, without employment or the possibility of social betterment, resorted to crime to survive. This in turn gave rise to sophisticated [criminal?] organizations. The result was that the walls became ever thicker and more numerous. The sophistication of the defences against crime increased greatly; the fear and paranoia of the Haves intensified phenomenally; and the tension and stress deeply affected every member of the society. As a result of political, economic or social pressure or personal willingness, the Haves and Have-nots initiated experiments to ease the negative tension and to work together on a possible future.

In the future scenarios, previous forms of division between Haves and Have-nots are challenged by new sets of rules and conflicts. New types of walls are introduced to weaken or destabilize existing ones. These new walls invite and sometimes force Haves and Have-nots to discuss principles and to deal with the new and strange experience of being together. This dialogue could be visual, physical, spatial or economic.
Some of the existing measures of exclusion and inclusion, such as private security armies and check points, are used in a positive and productive manner to protect and serve members of both camps. These future scenarios try to invert the horror of the wall, rather than dissolving the division altogether.

Story 1: Chinese Wall Model
Comrades of the Have-nots outside the city convinced foreign political and financial institutions to impose sanctions on the Haves. This had such a detrimental effect on the Haves’ business undertakings that they were forced to negotiate with the Have-nots in order to survive.
The Have-nots, now in political power, initiate a new division of the city by building four giant walls running in a north-south direction. This new system links negative space outside the enclaves, such as green space and buffer zones, with positive space inside the ghetto. The new division creates a new conflict and makes the existing division obsolete. The five new districts of the city will start to investigate and resolve their inherited conflicts and possibly arrive at different resolutions. This process will be thoroughly documented and closely observed, and serve as a pilot project for future development models in other cities around the world.

On top of these walls is free space for the leisure and pleasure of the citizen. Walking from north to south, one sees the cityscapes of the enclaves, derelict green space, the buffer zone and the ghetto: one is witness to the landscape of apartheid as the most direct and physical manifestation of segregation and exclusion.
Climbing the walls requires a conscious decision to leave existing positions; the new perspective offers an overview of all contrasting conditions. The number of Haves entering the free space is recorded and registered as a gesture of respect towards the Have-nots and as a willingness to coexist. The more willingness the Haves exhibit, the more sanctions will be eased and the more foreign investment will be allowed. Haves try to be popular in order to secure their position in the future political and economic climate.

Story 2: Double Belgian Coast Model
The tension between Haves and Have-nots is getting so intense that it affects both negatively. The instability scares foreign investors away from the city and prompts an exodus of established institutions; both sides suffer the consequences. The economic leaders of the Haves and the political leaders of the Have-nots hold conferences and arrive at a mutual agreement to release the pressure and stabilize the existing situation while maintaining the dynamics of this tension.
This aim is achieved by a model comprising two identical buildings, similar to those unbroken rows of apartment buildings along the Belgian Coast, separated by a buffer zone.


The walled character of the buildings keeps out undesirable intruders, reassures society and hinders any over-hasty integration or reconciliation. The buffer zone is now a free space accessible to both parties and protected against developments outside. The programmes in the buildings are mirrored across the middle line of the buffer zone, so that members can observe the rituals and practices of ‘the others’. The buildings are visual laboratories aimed at familiarizing each group with the lifestyle of ‘the other’; binoculars are provided. Volunteers to live in the buildings are welcomed, living costs are subsidized by sympathetic humanitarian organizations and special taxation rates will apply. Several gaps are carved out of the buildings linking points on both sides and making the invisible connections visible.

The buffer zone is preserved as a reminder of the brutality of Apartheid and its walls. The free space is a space for respect, contemplation, leisure and freedom; members can come to this space to meet, to learn tolerance of the others, to tease or politely harass one other. It is a ‘conceptual dialogue’ space, devoid of architecture, but highly charged with dynamic possibilities. The colour grey symbolizes the co-existence of multiple colours. The sublime ‘wallness’ of the buildings can be fully appreciated here.
This model is a compression of all meanings of the wall: division, isolation, but also protection, connection and facade; altogether it inverts the brutality of the wall into a calming, relieving, sympathetic and connective architecture.


Story 3: Inverse Model
The walls of the post-Apartheid era perpetually thickened and merged into bigger ones (as in the Medieval Scenario); security measures multiplied to deter the proliferation of crime. Out of despair and mistrust of others, individuals started to migrate into ‘tribal’ enclaves: there were enclaves for the English, Afrikaaners, Jews, southern Europeans, Chinese, Indians, Zulus, Xhosas, et cetera. These large enclaves of tribal concentrations were like the artificial island of Deshima near Nagasaki (the only place in Japan to which foreign traders were admitted).

For a long period of time, the area outside these large enclaves was overgrown by nature. Wild animals wandered around freely. The large enclaves themselves, charged with nostalgia, exaggerated their own identity, their fear of the present and uncertainty about the future, which led to an escalation of historicizing architecture. The theme park, with its allusion to safety and moral rectitude, was the unconscious architectural strategy whereby an unpleasant context could be psychologically denied.

Overfamiliar with the boredom of life in the enclaves and the unnecessary thickness of the walls, many youngsters began to abandon their parents’ ideologies and prejudices and left the enclaves. They broke radically with the excessive nostalgia. The descendants of the former Haves and Have-nots pour all their talent and energy into the recovery of their society. Architecture is once again the instrument for creating this beautiful future. A new landscape arises.

In their future city, the large enclaves are preserved as a reminder of post-Apartheid segregation. They are renamed the ‘Cemeteries of Prejudice and Paranoia’. Outside the cemeteries is the new city.

Monday, June 30, 2003

Beijing Green Town Housing / 北京格林小鎮住宅

2002-2003
Beijing Green Town housing

Facade Design of 800 houses, 24.56ha
client: private developer, realised

2002-2003
北京格林小鎮住宅

立面方案設計,24.56公頃,800個住宅單元,
業主:北京金地鴻業房地產開發有限公司,已建造完成







Beijing Green Town community centre / 北京格林小鎮會所

2002-2003
Beijing Green Town community centre
4500 m² community centre
client: private developer, realised


2002-2003
北京格林小鎮會所
4500 m²建築方案設計
業主:北京金地房地產開發有限公司,已建造完成










Saturday, June 21, 2003

Taiwan Architect (Taiwan)

2003
Taiwan Architect, #342
International Biennale Rotterdam: Mobility

2003
臺灣建築師,第342集
鹿特丹國際建築雙年展:移動性

Friday, June 20, 2003

Interior (Taiwan)

2003
Interior, #125
Dutch Report
2003
室內雜誌, 第125號
荷蘭特訊

Wednesday, October 9, 2002

Dutchness at Your Service


Co-authro: Ruurd Gietema
published in Archis #4 2002


Like the great navigators of the 17th century who sailed off to unknown oceans in search of new lands to trade with, the young and fearless Dutch planners expanded their field of work to the East. Now as then the keys to success turned out to be an understanding of the foreign culture and an ability to adapt accordingly.
The booming megacity of Shanghai had invited the young planners and five other architectural designers to envisage a future for Gaoqiao Town, an 800-year-old satellite of Shanghai which in five years’ time will have 100,000 inhabitants on an area of 5.6 square kilometres plus a low-density resort area of 3.6 square kilometres. Situated at the point where the Huangpu and Yangtze Rivers flow into the ocean, Gaiqiao Town has throughout history been an important transport node. The competition (August 2001) was a rare opportunity to explore new concepts in large-scale urban design with the prospect of realization. The young planners accordingly set out full of good intentions and uncompromising utopian beliefs.
Many of the satellite towns around mother-city of Shanghai have been given themes. For example, Anting, where the Volkswagen works are located, was allocated a ‘German style’ and the winning development scheme (by Albert Speer & Partner) was a traditional German ‘fachwerkhause’. The officials identified Gaoqiao Town with a ‘Dutch style’. The competition brief expressed admiration for Amsterdam canal houses, tulips, windmills, traditional Dutch forms and aesthetics, but also for modern Dutch urban developments such as Vinex, Kop van Zuid and the eastern harbour areas in Amsterdam: ‘We want to put in major investment to transform the town with Dutch style and architecture, to formulate a visually Dutch town ... We hope that you will fully invest your intelligence and creativity to propose a Dutch theme park or plaza’. The competitors were three Dutch firms, one Australian, one French and one Chinese. How would the non-Dutch go about designing a Dutch town? Perhaps their towns would turn out to be the most Dutch-looking of the lot.

Such an explicit request for ‘Dutchness’ could be the most embarrassing or most glorifying brief for a Dutch designer, depending on your viewpoint. It was almost too unnerving and uncomfortable a subject to touch on. The most blatant and superficial interpretation of Dutchness was the retro-Dutch style, but the application of such style was considered inappropriate; the Dutch suburbs cultivate a middle-class living culture of the worst kind: no daring and vulgar luxury, no elegant and intelligent lifestyle, only mediocrity and complacency. The young planners felt the urge to take a stand. At the very beginning of design sessions, architecture of the kind to be found in the Holland Village theme park in Nagasaki was definitely ruled out and the discussion of ‘Dutch style’ was soon modified into ‘Dutch way’. Too much resistance might result in a major loss of opportunity; on the other hand, the young planners were firmly committed to a no-bullshit and responsible attitude towards architecture and urbanism.
At present, the southern area of Gaoqiao Town is bounded by heavy industry and business zones. To ensure instant modernisation, it was clear that the agricultural part of town would have to go: ‘Young, aspiring white collar workers will be the residents of Gaoqiao Town; farmers will be relocated to adjacent industrial zones as factory workers.’ In the name of modernisation and reform, everything was glorified and justified. Contextually, the town was surrounded by many regional and national ambitions. The town itself was to become an ‘international economic, financial, trade and shipping centre’ and a ‘modernised town with leading industrial advantage, economic power, prominent characteristic and beautiful living environment’.
The young planners envisaged a future for the town as a polycentric metropolis of high density and intensity with top-quality living conditions; it was impossible to imagine that the client wanted suburbs. Their proposal embodied precise engineering of land and water and strategies with the flexibility to respond to changing circumstances and so enable the town to compete and to complement its context.
The young planners did it the Dutch way; they questioned the question and posed an alternative one. In so doing, they doomed themselves to failure.






The Winner
The competition was won by another Dutch office, Kuiper Compagnons, an Australian and a Chinese office. The winning schemes were based on relatively standard suburban planning principles. The Dutch winner had designed Kattenbroek, a well-known pre-Vinex suburb in Amersfoort. At an Asian-Pacific urbanisation symposium in Berlin, the Dutch winner said that the city is aesthetic and static and does not lend itself to experiments.
The scheme was obviously the application of the Kattenbroek formula. The density of 55 houses/ha was comparable to that of Vinex developments, such as IJburg in Amsterdam. The winning layout was visually derived from familiar modernist paintings. The buildings referred to old and new Dutch houses. The winner also interpreted traditional Chinese architecture and applied it to canal houses. ‘The point of departure is the meeting of cultures, in our view a typical Dutch characteristic,’ said the winning project leader in a newspaper interview. The scheme was perhaps competent, realistic and suitable for instant realisation; nevertheless, it was conventional and lacking in imagination.
Various parts of the town were given evocative and commemorative names – ‘Edge of Thousand Leaves’, ‘Lane of Reflection’, ‘Treasure Hill’, ‘Chinese Heart’, ‘City of Longings’, ‘City of Memory’, ‘Pyramid’ – reminiscent of the use of associative symbolism in Kattenbroek. When the poetically and romantically branded Dutch suburb was presented to the slogan culture of Communist China, the Dutch winner’s success was inevitable.




What Do the Chinese Want?
Recent architectural media had depicted Asian urbanisation as a delirious and hilarious phenomenon; the reports seemed to encourage boldness and experimentation in design. However, such information proved to be somewhat misleading. The rapid urbanisation asked for quick-fix propositions. Chinese clients turned out to prefer proven, even if sometimes boring, models which have already worked successfully elsewhere. Their approach was pragmatic with no room for abstract theorisation, academic laboratory exercises or idealistic urban ideas which might risk failure in reality. Their brief was a strictly planned future with little flexibility for dealing with changing circumstances. As one jury member, Prof. Zheng, put it: ‘the approach of propositions should be instant, immediate, monumental, proved and to the question (not to question the question)’.

Realization
How would all three winners’ schemes be realised on the same site? ‘They (the Chinese client) will certainly realize part of our plan. Probably they’ll also use elements from the other prize-winning designs,’ said the winning project leader. These three schemes would be pasted together according to the Chinese client’s own will; the act of selection and montage would be the client’s (hopefully) creative input. This technique of montage suggests a better example: the history of Japanese modernisation. The technique of selecting-copying–transforming-pasting was constantly and consciously applied by the Japanese in studying and utilising western culture. The borrowing and sifting process escalated and accelerated the modernisation process. In the space of fifty years, Japan achieved political, economic, technological, infrastructural and sociological transformation from a closed, agricultural, feudal society into a major world power.
In the making of a new Chinese city, where the past is too weak to compete with the fierce desire for a future – whatever that might be – the importation of excellence from other civilisations is the most efficient shortcut. A ‘Dutch Town’ could become an experimental ground where the quintessential Dutch technology, knowledge and methods are modified and transformed both operationally and stylistically into something Chinese. Different ‘Dutch town’ designers would compete under much more creative, critical and demanding criteria; the jury would assess the designs on the basis of a thorough understanding of Dutch civil engineering, urban and architectural culture. Such knowledge could preserve the jury from easy submission to foreign styles simply because of their freshness, and give it the intelligence to combine the best-quality designs. The knowledge, and consequent critical attitude, could further avoid unrealistic expectations of instant modernisation and give more opportunities for pragmatic experimentation. The ‘Dutch’ brand could be creatively, strategically manipulated and represented to achieve maximum performance and effect. Exhaustive research and tireless experimentation are prerequisites to ensure the quality of the result.

Dutchness
The Chinese idea of ‘Dutch style’ never met up with the young planners’ idea (from the media) of the Chinese; when they proposed an optimistic vision for a vigorous metropolis charged with vitality and dynamism, their gesture was as much heroic as naive and stupid. According to one of the young planners: ‘Dutch architects and planners are particularly “Dutch” when they design on non-Dutch sites. In Holland, most of them do what they are asked to do; they are loyal followers of prevailing policies’. What is real Dutchness? In a situation where ‘Dutch style’ was required as the character of the design, and Dutchness was the existential basis from with the young planners developed their positions and ideas, true Dutchness actually penalised them. Dutchness is the courage to explore; resistance to nonsense; an intelligent and critical attitude to questions, and thus to answers; and the willingness to invest immense effort to realise an ideal. In this foreign urban exercise, the young planners’ ideals became their weakness, and their very Dutchness led to their failure.

If at first you don’t succeed...
One month later, the Shanghai Urban Planning Administration Bureau launched another international competition, inviting nine firms from the West to come up with a development plan for Luchaogang New Town, a port-town covering 80 square kilometres which would have 100,000 inhabitants in 2005 and 300,000 inhabitants by 2020. Their glorious failure in the first Chinese urban exercise did not deter the young and fearless planners; the frustration had toughened and sharpened them. Armed with ideals and a positive attitude, they set off for the East once again. This time they changed their strategy and conducted the operation in Shanghai.

The brief
The brief of this competition was vaguer, but the scale, programme and scope were even bigger and more complex than the previous one. The brief was fully charged with Shanghai’s regional and China’s national ambitions.
According to the new overall development programme, ‘Shanghai is to be built as one of the world economic, financial, trade and navigation centres’. Luchaogang New Town would be the container terminal of Yangshan Deep-water Container Hub Port, located on several islands 32 kilometres from the mainland in the East China Sea. The port and its town would function as a single entity, ‘the sea gate of Shanghai’. ‘It will be the major port of East Asia and network with Hong Kong, Yokohama, Singapore and other port cities along the Pacific Rim’. The port and town would be ‘an international marine navigation centre of north-east Asia, co-ordinated with the Asian Pacific Air Navigation Centre of Pudong Airport’. This combined infrastructural centre would realise ‘a global material-flow function zone of high efficiency and elevate the functional development and image of Pudong to a new level’.
The port and town would be connected by the 35-kilometre-long Luyang Bridge, whose main function was to provide an artery for the transportation of containers and logistical supports such as water, energy and communications. Luchaogang New Town would be the base for the collection and distribution of containers. The port had to be able to handle 2.2 million, 15 million and 21 million containers by 2005, 2020 and 2100 respectively and on completion have a handling capacity of more than 30 million containers per year. The port town should ‘serve the whole country while catering for the world’, and ‘enhance the comprehensive competitiveness of Shanghai and its participation in the world economic circulation’.




Future
With such a broad and vague brief, the young planners had to come up with a design that fulfilled the demands and had the flexibility to project forward into an unpredictable future – growth or non-growth. Le Corbusier’s Ville Radieuse of 1930 was the precedent for their planning concept. Ville Radieuse had a theoretically limitless and classless layout; zones were organised into linear, parallel bands allowing for independent expansion. The young planners doubled this layout and turned one of them 90 degrees. Two Villes Radieuses intersected to form one cruciform shape and four main quadrants. Different zones could grow indefinitely and independently of one another; their overlapping could lead to new combinations of programmes.
The Cruciform Shape accommodated a container distribution park with related programmes such as warehouses, manufacturing, administration and a dual waterfront (riverfront/seafront) city centre development. The container distribution park, a perfect logistical machine, connected directly to the highway and a 500-ton canal. Spaces reserved for future expansion included a tree nursery and large urban programmes such as a stadium and a concert hall. On the waterfront the administrative and business programme would be combined with hotels, housing, ferry terminal, shopping, culture and entertainment. Along the riverfront was the city centre; along the seafront, high-rise signature buildings and landmarks monumentalised the ‘gateway to Shanghai’.
The Four Quadrants were nuclear cities accommodating inhabitants and a complete urban life. The quadrants were based on the existing gridded agricultural landscape structure. The residential zones would be a patchwork of specific housing areas; each had a cocktail of density, typology, organisation and public space.
The Interface Zone where container and urban programmes overlapped and interacted, joined the cruciform shape (port: container distribution) and quadrants (town: urban life) together. Unintended, unpredictable, multi-functional uses and vivid (sometimes bizarre) urban areas would spring up.
The young planners were confident that this concept would be able to deal with changing circumstances and to withstand the rigour of forces in the modernisation process. Their design tried to encompass visions and imagination which could absorb and incorporate whatever might come.




Work in Shanghai
The young planners finalised the design concept in Rotterdam. Armed with sketches and production gear, they flew into Shanghai. The hot humid midsummer in the metropolis was exhilarating, and the pressure to produce and present the huge project in two weeks was overwhelming. They organised a temporary office with a team of five young local architects and three rendering wizards. The Chinese teammates were sincere and enthusiastic. At an average of 26 years old, they had already built 15-storey housing projects.
To start with, the communication was a problem. There was a linguistic as well as conceptual, historical, cultural, educational and psychological gap. The Chinese teammates’ local experience did not prepare them for conceptual thinking, nor did the enthusiasm lead to self-motivated work ethics. Communist ‘passive labour’ diminished their potential performance; there was a regrettably great discrepancy between what could be and what was. The southern Chinese summer was fierce; one overnight storm flooded the streets of Shanghai, the young planners half waded, half swam to get a taxi to work. The cars floated slowly through the swamped city like gondolas in Venice. The extremely hard work could only be compensated by rich and diverse evening meals. Chinese teammates were great ambassadors; they introduced the young Dutch planners to an exciting and liberating food experience. Thanks to such meals, team spirit began to flourish. Towards the deadline everyone took initiative and responsibility to accomplish the mission. There is a local custom called guanxi: emulation through social relationship. Appointments for dinners, lunches and extra consultation sessions were made in order to meet politicians and experts who might be on the jury. The young planners’ local contact tried to convince them: ‘the more familiar they are with you, the more likely they are to choose your scheme’. The young planners’ experienced a moral conflict between their professional ethics and their desire to realise the project.



The Crucified Future
In the presentation, some 30 members of the ‘Committee of Experts’ – grey haired, middle-aged/old, rather overweight – judged nine entries in a closed hotel room. The young planners presented their scheme conceptually, leaving much time for questions, discussion and further clarification of ideas. The Committee was evidently looking for physical characteristics it could trust; being young, fit and not grey, the planners doubted whether they stood a chance. The questions asked indicated a basic misunderstanding of graphical language. Points and lines had to be literal; there was little room for conceptual expressions or implicit suggestions.
The result was announced the day after the presentation. There were three winners; the young planners got the fourth – the most pitiable place. There was no evaluation report after the announcement of the result; the reason for their failure remained a mystery. The contact person arranged a meeting with one of the jury members. The grey-haired expert remarked that ‘one of the winners had used the metaphor of a sunflower to explain their scheme. The middle part of the flower is a nice big lake; the petals of the flower is the city’. A sunflower! He added, ‘you are from Holland. Why didn’t you use a metaphor of something Dutch?’ Indeed, the young planners’ concept of the cruciform container distribution park and polycentric cities in the quadrants could have been represented by the metaphor of the windmill. The container terminal would be the large fans of the windmill. The fans are activated by climatic forces, and as people are running the city, the polycentric cities would be the wind. Then waterfront development, propelling the whole city, would be the engine of the windmill. When the young planner joked about the windmill metaphor, the grey-haired expert replied with joy, ‘yes, we would have liked that very much!’ It scarcely mattered what the design was, but what it symbolised. How a project was explained determined its success.
Why didn’t the young planners learn from their previous failure and Kuiper Compagnons’ success? Why were they unable to surrender to the selling technique of the metaphor?
They made no apology for the loss, although in fact they owed one to urbanism. Because of their obstinacy and resistance they were unable to sell their work and so they missed out on the opportunity to realise a good design.












Archis (the Netherlands)

2002
Archis #4 2002
Dutchness at your service
2002
Archis建築雜誌#4 2002期
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