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City as a Political Community

Death of Polis

Pierre Manent writes, “[City] is the idea of a public space in which people live together, consider and decide together about everything that relates to their common interests. This was, therefore, the idea of possession by a human community of the conditions of their own existence. This was quite naturally, therefore, also a political idea” – and further – “Cities […] are ‘ideologically weak’; they are something ‘individual’ between these two universalisms: the idea of empire and the idea of the mission of the Church.”10 The fact that the City is (also) a political being seems clear, but mostly this politicisation is now understood as the presence of structures and institutions external to the City – of the national state or international organisations. Alternatively, the city is understood as a structure within which to place the political process. The City is then more a decoration than a participant in these processes. It is interesting that the classic understanding of the City as Polis formulated by Aristotle – that is, a primarily political being, a concept in which a certain group of people together have authority over a certain space – now seems to be highly problematic. This is probably because, as correctly formulated by Lefebvre, it is extremely difficult to identify the community in the modern city.11 His dramatic question – to whom does the city belong? – means that yes, we follow the political process in the city, but the City itself is rather a space for policy, not a political idea in itself.12 Even worse, Agamben points at the camp rather than the City as the fundamental biopolitical paradigm of the Western world.13 Is the loss of the City, as a potential model of political community, thus a basic drama which results in a loss of community as a whole? Or at least a sense of loss in the belief that the community can produce root units without losing its universal dimension? That the community is the choice of the person rather than a weight of oppression over the individual? But what happens with cities today? What is their position, and why are cities no longer Polis today?

States are falling apart: functionally, where some fragments are beginning to be more strongly associated with global institutions than the state; or spatially, where cross-border cooperation gives rise to functional regions more strongly associated with each other than with the countries in which they are located. For example, let us consider Tallinn, whose development is to a significant degree driven by Helsinki and Bratislava. It is trying to maintain some independence from Vienna, stressing competition more than cooperation, but it does not matter which strategy the weaker city adopts – cooperation or controlled competition – the effect is similar. What follows is a slow stretching of the structures of these cities and the retraction of the weaker states in the structure of the stronger countries. Unofficial Helsinki government pressure on the authorities of Tallinn is a widely known and commented upon reality. But the cities – in themselves – also disintegrate, either due to internal social and economic inequalities (guarded settlements or simply better and worse neighbourhoods), or because of external factors (sometimes regional, sometimes global) which bind parts of cities into a network, leaving other parts to waste. Global cities in the so-called developing countries – to name just São Paulo, Johannesburg and Calcutta – have shown that unbelievable poverty and social tragedy can exist alongside richness and full participation in the global world.

The key moment in which the city began to decay spatially – because social diversity has always existed – came with the emergence of nonlinear transport, and especially the loss of importance afforded to pedestrian traffic. Currently, we are moving from place to place ever more efficiently, but the space between the area in which we are and the area in which we want to be is becoming increasingly less important. The only things of importance are the entry points and exit points. Another key factor is the global information network – made of telecommunications systems such as TV, mobile phones and the Internet. It connects us to people, ignoring their locations and, more importantly, creating a more and more virtual, extrageographical realm. Traditional mass media like TV and radio, broadcast from central facilities, are still the most important source of information – they are unrivalled in terms of rumor and direct interpersonal communication. But on the other hand, the power of ‘alternative’ information, transmitted by emails or Twitter, is worth analysis. Different kinds of ‘analogue virus’ – a drawing, a plea for help, a joke – are sent between friends at an amazing rate all over the world. For now, these things are mostly copied without possessing any special quality or quantity of content, but I would venture to say that this way of transmitting information through a ‘virtual rumor’ may become an important component of an ‘alternative’ world of information. More likely, however – although pessimistic – seems the opinion that it will just be another tool of manipulation.

More and more people are becoming parts of the network – tied to different organisations that are no longer a whole. Of course, people have always functioned as parts of different subsystems, but never have these subsystems been so separated from each other. This involvement in various organisations in different subsystems makes a person cease to be an integral person, and instead become a ‘functionate’ – Catholic, Buddhist, member of a corporation, union or association of Barbie collectors.

This loss of integrity disturbs both the institutional religions, which recognise the cracks in their believers who are living ‘parallel lives’ – the religious and laic people – and also the corporations that are striving to organise the lives of their employees, leaving them no room for private passions. All those meetings organised by the company – for training or play – are an attempt to subjugate the whole person, and not just a portion thereof functioning as an employee. However, if the religions – no matter what our attitude to their views – try to see a person in their many dimensions (albeit with an eschatological perspective), the corporations have the perspective of economic efficiency, and a person is only a narrowly specialised (although very complicated) tool for this efficiency.

So today, people either fall to pieces or become a ‘narrow specialised’ – members of sects, corporate employees, etc. Organisations, institutions and groups have an increasingly extrageographical character. Globalisation – the ‘netting’ of people who have a close relationship – is a dubious boon. Without prejudging whether more people benefit from globalisation or lose out, the fact is that many of the poor people of this world are in exploitation networks rather than exchange networks. As Michael Edwards notes, however, it is also true that some kind of ‘global civil society’ seems to be emerging.14 However, it seems that most of these organisations concern the Western world, the rich world who can afford – financially and mentally – to begin to consider problems that are global and not just national. Edwards also writes about the organisations associated with the ‘poor world’, mostly about Shack/Slum Dwellers International (SDI), but despite global coverage these organisations are focused primarily on local activity, on specific communities in a particular area.

But the disintegration of urban space of which I write, is it – in itself – bad? In Riga, a legend is told. From time to time, from the Daugava river which flows through the City, a Monster emerges who asks: “Has the City been completed yet?” The answer, which should be immediately given to him, is: “No!” – because a prophecy says that when the City is completed then it shall be destroyed. This legend is an excellent illustration of a very important feature of City – every City is a process. It does not become a completed project. Therein lies the basic difference between architecture and urbanism – architecture relates to finite structures (buildings), whereas urbanism concerns entities that appear and disappear. If buildings (and therefore architecture) are fighting against time, against the passing of time, then they are contrary to City: City has time as its ally. The City is change. The City is thus a Deleuzian diagram, recorded in matter and space, but time is not the only important element when thinking about this place. In the legend, as I mentioned, a ‘lack’ is important: an ‘imperfection’ or ‘incompleteness’ that is not evil but – quite the contrary – gives it life, a guarantee of being as such, while ‘perfection’ is synonymous with destruction. Referring to the Christian concept of love, Slavoj Žižek wrote that “incompleteness, in a sense, stands higher than the completeness.”15 City confirms this view because ‘incompleteness’ and ‘imperfection’ does not mean decay. The City is diversity. After all, Aristotle argued that the City consists of people of various kinds. Alike people cannot create a city. For Aristotle, City is a partnership which involves the interaction of people living in the city. Furthermore, according to Aristotle, City is founded on the interests of virtue and its task is the ‘education’ of its citizens. The City, therefore, also in the classical sense, is a dynamic entity. The City is to educate, and so the City is something that works – not just something that lasts.

The City as such – and this will be another attempt to define the City – is a permanent revolution. In this way, we return once again to politics. The City is pure potential, but always loses and regains its potentiality. The City continues to be expanded and rebuilt. It is still being destroyed and is still being created. Can the City then be a model, an example, a starting point for more fundamental considerations? Before we attempt this path, let us consider potentiality a while longer. Emptiness calls for a fulfillment. Lack calls for a restoration. But fulfillments or supplements never leave us completely satisfied. Almost always, we feel that by filling the canvas, the notebook pages, land in the city or, in the end, our lives with a kind of content, we kill all the other – perhaps better – opportunities. Creativity, or simply ‘being’, kills potentiality. Life is a desperate loss of opportunities. Instead of experiencing the infinite potentials of existence, most of us fill our lives with one in particular. Are we sure that it is the best possibility? Uncertainty about the value of our existence is an indelible feature of our lives. What does this have to do with the City? The City is – to some extent – forever. We have (though perhaps not everyone will agree with this view) one life. The City experiences itself in many ways. Certain spatial arrangements – the roads, squares, and quarters marked out in Roman times – persist and continue to organise the City today, despite the fact that everything else – people, social systems, economic and political climates – has changed. But of course, in a given place and time, there is only that one single City.

That is how the City exists in itself, but it is only from one perspective – the second, equally important aspect concerns how the City exists for its residents. The area of the City which each of us uses is very small. No matter whether we live in a big city or small town, the space in which we exist is quite clearly defined. Of course, some of us are more active than others, but all of us are subject to certain restrictions – we cannot be in several places at the same time; moving around the city will take some time; our lives are often structured around a triangle of work or school, family, and fun, friends or shopping. Of course, we sometimes want to break the monotony of our journey and go to a district in which we have never been, but – let’s be honest – this is extremely rare. So if a City, and what we need to consume from it, can be so small – then are large cities in general unnecessary?

The fact that our needs in the City are limited is the primary cause of both its decay and the success of the disurbanising processes, and especially so-called urban sprawl and the emergence of suburbs stretching to tens of kilometers. Most of us dream of a house with a garden, most of us have to work (or in our youth, learn) and if we go shopping it is best combined with going to the cinema, bowling and drinking coffee with a friend. In this way, an operating scheme of a typical inhabitant of the American city is created (but also of the City of which most Europeans dream – please visit Dublin, Riga and the cities of East Germany). The fact is that European cities have a different structure, due primarily to historical reasons as well as economic conditions – not everyone can afford a house and not everyone wants to commute for hours. But let us return briefly to those tiny ‘subjective towns’ in which each of us live. What do they have in common? Common shops? Industries? Cinemas? This is a crucial moment – we are talking here not so much about urban space as we are about urban communities. About the Community which has disappeared. Indeed, what unites people living in one city? People who, in the classic Aristotelian sense, should create Polis? Is there any urban community in general? Or is there only political community?

A central public space – the archetypal agora, a place of honor – was the essence of a traditional City, but even if public spaces still exist in our cities, and even when creating new plazas, arcades and urban parks, their meaning is closely linked to commercialism or the health and welfare of residents. Public spaces in our cities today have no political, but merely commercial-entertainment significance. There was indeed – as I wrote in the previous chapter – an important international shift in political and economic climates, and Catherine Needham rightly speaks of the ‘Citizen-Consumer’ (with a decisive emphasis on ‘Consumer’). That is the key problem of modern cities – the disappearance of the political community. The collapse of public spaces and their replacement with commercial spaces, the disintegration of the urban structure and privatisation of its spaces are results, not causes. There was a complete dehiscence of the City space along with the political idea of the City.

Why is the disappearance of the political community crucial in understanding the crisis of the City? Because the lack of a political community is the lack of any community. As Jadwiga Staniszkis writes, “too big a withdrawal of the state may not only lead to ‘denationalisation’, but also ‘desocialisation’ (because people are beginning to see their ‘citizenship’ as irrelevant to their own fate).”16 What connects the City’s inhabitants? Shopping together in a suburban mall? The fact that we were all in a multiplex once? So what? The potential in this cinema or that shop to meet others? That’s clearly absurd

Rebuilding the local community, the community at district level, seemed to offer some hope for the disappearance of the political community from the City as a whole – however, even at this level the community disappears. Nothing unites people living side-by-side. Therefore, the subjective cities are first a political and social problem, only then a spatial one. The reintegration of urban space cannot be carried out with urban tools. Urbanism, as such, or land use planning are increasingly irrelevant, precisely because their role has become purely regulatory, instrumental and expert. One cannot save the cities through interventions and social programs either – it is still too little; these are only half measures. The only effective remedy would be to reclaim the City as a political idea, as a self-governing organism. Not planning, not social programs, but politics is the path of salvation for cities.

City as a Political Idea

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