"Deconstrucción española", artículo en WSJ Europe

"La economía española está en pleno boom. También lo está, de forma más espectacular, su mercado inmobiliario, cuyos precios han subido un 180 % en la última década. Unos salarios al alza y unos intereses bajos conducen la demanda inmobiliaria (...) de este tigre ibérico.

Las fiestas se tienen que acabar, o al menos, reducirse. El próspero mercado inmobiliario cubre unas deficiencias estructurales de la economía a las que el Gobierno de centro-izquierda ha prestado poca atención (...) Una corrección del mercado inmobiliario tendría un gran impacto en la economía, que se alimenta del consumo, que a su vez está conducido por el efecto riqueza generado por los precios de la vivienda, y de la construcción (...)

Cualquier prescripción pasa por una diversificación de la economía. Las empresas tienen que lidiar con demasiado papeleo, los mercados energéticos esperan la liberalización, y las normativas para emplear y despedir siguen siendo las más restrictivas de la OCDE. El Gobierno de Jose Luis Rodríguez Zapatero parece contento montado sobre las reformas introducidas por sus predecesores. Pero a menos que Madrid afronte estos asuntos, es probable que a los tiempos del boom español le siga pronto un retorno a la mediocridad más familiar del pasado."

En el aniversario de la infamia, un artículo de Eduardo Aguirre

“UN ENEMIGO PARA TODOS NOSOTROS”
Eduardo Aguirre, Embajador de Estados Unidos en España y Andorra

Confío en que no es necesario contar los detalles de los sucesos de aquel día. No es necesario explicar a los lectores españoles las consecuencias de aquellos atentados. Todos recordamos las horrendas imágenes. Pero no podemos y no debemos olvidar a las víctimas y sus seres queridos. Y no podemos evitar el simple hecho de que hoy las sociedades abiertas se enfrentan a una amenaza seria y existencial.

El mundo está envuelto en un conflicto con el terrorismo transnacional, que predica la violencia, la intolerancia y el extremismo, y hemos de entender la naturaleza y las ambiciones de nuestro enemigo...

El 11 de Septiembre no inauguró una era. Pero nos abrió los ojos a una amenaza que había estado cobrando fuerza y había comenzado a asesinar años atrás. Si hubiéramos mirado con más detenimiento 10 años antes, habríamos visto la determinación y la crueldad de estos terroristas.

Sus ambiciones, como su brutalidad, también están claras. En numerosas declaraciones han reiterado su incesante guerra contra la libertad, contra la democracia y contra todo el que se oponga a su rígida visión de una utopía. El régimen talibán dejó entrever lo que tratan de imponer en todo el planeta: un dogma despiadado, tiránico y perverso que oprime a millones de personas, prohíbe que las niñas vayan a colegio, recluye a las mujeres en su casa y propugna que la policía religiosa golpee y azote a los que considera poco piadosos.

Esta es la naturaleza de nuestro enemigo. Ni qué decir tiene que no se rata de una ideología con la que podemos negociar. No se puede disuadir o corregir a los fanáticos terroristas. No puede haber coexistencia pacífica con aquellos cuyo propósito y cuyo objetivo es aniquilarnos.

En 2001, un país entero se había convertido en santuario y campo de entrenamiento de terroristas. Ese país albergaba a una organización que tramó atentados en cuatro continentes y asesinó a 3.000 civiles inocentes en un lapso de 100 minutos. La faceta militar era necesaria e inevitable, y por eso EE.UU. utilizó la fuerza para destruir el régimen talibán y el refugio de Al Qaeda. Hoy, Estados Unidos y sus socios de la OTAN, entre los que España desempeña un valioso e importante papel, continúan trabajando para garantizar la estabilidad en Afganistán, eliminar los vestigios del régimen talibán y ayudar al país a avanzar y convertirse en una democracia sólida.

Pero es un error creer que las acciones militares son el límite de la respuesta de EE.UU. al terrorismo. Esta lucha exige una estrecha coordinación y cooperación entre los organismos responsables de hacer cumplir la ley, la Inteligencia y las autoridades financieras, y eso es precisamente lo que están haciendo Europa y EE.UU. Juntos, estamos congelando los activos financieros de los terroristas y desarticulando redes de reclutamiento. Estamos localizando, deteniendo y juzgando a los organizadores e inspiradores de la violencia terrorista.

Éstas son respuestas necesarias y apropiadas a la amenaza del terrorismo internacional, pero no son suficientes. Se trata de un conflicto ideológico contra una fuerza política violenta opuesta a todo lo que representan las sociedades abiertas y democráticas. Y sólo ganando la batalla ideológica, durante años y generaciones, se podrá derrotar a la amenaza del terrorismo.

El primer paso es rechazar la ideología de los terroristas. La culpa de las muertes causadas por el terrorismo es sólo de los terroristas, no de los que se oponen a él. Los terroristas no pueden convencer, así que tratan de intimidar, confundir y engañar. La abrumadora mayoría de las víctimas de los atentados terroristas islamistas han sido los propios musulmanes, porque, a pesar de la retórica de los terroristas, su más temible enemigo no es Occidente, son la moderación, la tolerancia y la dignidad humana de la inmensa mayoría dentro de las sociedades musulmanas. Y en todo el mundo musulmán, la gente de fe, de paz y de tolerancia está mostrando que rechaza el camino de los terroristas. Sólo ellos pueden impedir que éste avance, minar su fuerza y contrarrestar su veneno. Ellos serán los vencedores sobre el extremismo pseudoislamista.

Podemos ayudarles. A través de programas como el Foro para el Futuro, del G-8, EE.UU. está apoyando iniciativas de países de todo el mundo musulmán para fomentar una mayor apertura política y económica, fortalecer la sociedad civil y crear más oportunidades para las mujeres. Este es el segundo paso, vital. Pero necesitamos la ayuda de todos. El silencio y la negativa a implicarse juegan en favor de los extremistas.

Están en juego la seguridad y el carácter abierto de nuestras sociedades democráticas. Está en peligro la posibilidad de una paz duradera. En palabras del presidente Bush, se trata de «la gran batalla ideológica del siglo XXI» y de «un llamamiento a nuestra generación». Perder es algo que no podemos permitirnos.

Tres meses, una vida

Han pasado, fugazmente, tres meses desde mi último post.

Tres meses frenéticos, en los que he tenido ocasión de viajar por mi trabajo a lugares como Estambul, Nueva York y Roma.

Tres meses que han pasado tan rápido como un segundo, o como toda una vida.

Nuestro cerebro sería perfecto si permitiera congelar en la memoria determinados instantes, para recobrarlos con todo detalle en otro momento.

"Leyes fundamentales de la estupidez humana", por Carlo Cipolla

PRIMERA LEY. "Siempre, e inevitablemente, cada uno de nosotros subestimamos el número de individuos estúpidos en circulación".

SEGUNDA LEY. "La probabilidad de que una persona determinada sea estúpida es independiente de cualquier otra característica de la misma persona".

TERCERA LEY. "Una persona estúpida es una persona que causa un daño a otra persona o grupo de personas sin obtener, al mismo tiempo, un provecho para sí, o incluso obteniendo un perjuicio".

CUARTA LEY. "Las personas no estúpidas subestiman siempre el potencial nocivo de las personas estúpidas. Los no estúpidos, en especial, olvidan constantemente que en cualquier momento y lugar, y en cualquier circunstancia, tratar y/o asociarse con individuos estúpidos se manifiesta infaliblemente como costosísimo error".

QUINTA LEY. "La persona estúpida es el tipo de persona más peligrosa que existe. El estúpido es más peligroso que el malvado".
Primera Ley Fundamental: Siempre, e inevitablemente, cada uno de nosotros subestimamos el número de individuos estúpidos en circulación

A primera vista esta afirmación puede parecer trivial, o más bien obvia, o poco generosa; o quizás las tres cosas a la vez. Sin embargo, un examen más atento revela de lleno la rotunda veracidad de esta afirmación. Cipolla considera que por muy alta que sea la estimación cuantitativa que se haga de la estupidez humana, siempre quedaremos sorprendidos de forma repetida y recurrente por el hecho de que personas que uno ha considerado racionales e inteligentes en el pasado resultan ser inequívocamente estúpidas. Día tras día, con una monotonía incesante, vemos cómo entorpecen y obstaculizan nuestra actividad individuos obstinadamente estúpidos, que aparecen de improviso e inesperadamente en los lugares y en los momentos menos oportunos.

La Primera Ley Fundamental impide la atribución de un valor numérico a la fracción de personas estúpidas respecto del total de la población. Cualquier estimación numérica resultaría ser una subestimación. Por ello en las líneas que siguen se designará la proporción de personas estúpidas en el seno de una población con el símbolo σ.

Segunda Ley Fundamental: La probabilidad de que cierta persona sea estúpida es independiente de cualquier otra característica de esa persona.

No todos los humanos son iguales ya que unos son más estúpidos que otros. Según Cipolla, el grado de estupidez viene determinado genéticamente por la naturaleza, pero no está asociado a ninguna otra característica de raza, sexo, nacionalidad o profesión.

El profesor Cipolla realizó amplios estudios demográficos con muy diversos sectores de la población. Inicialmente afirma haber comprobado que entre los trabajadores "de cuello azul" existía una fracción σ de estúpidos y que esa fracción era mayor de lo que esperaba, con lo que se confirmaba la primera Ley. Sospechando que podía deberse a falta de cultura o a marginalidad social estudió muestras de trabajadores "de cuello blanco" y a estudiantes, comprobando que entre ellos se mantenía la misma proporción. Más sorprendido aún quedó al medir el mismo parámetro entre los profesores de universidad. Decidió por tanto expandir sus estudios hasta la élite de la sociedad, los laureados con el Premio Nobel. El resultado confirmó el poder supremo de la naturaleza: una proporción σ de laureados con el Nobel son estúpidos.

Tercera Ley Fundamental (o de Oro): una persona estúpida es aquella que causa pérdidas a otra persona o grupo de personas sin obtener ninguna ganancia para sí mismo e incluso incurriendo en pérdidas.

El análisis de costes y beneficios de Carlo M. Cipolla permite clasificar a los seres humanos en cuatro tipos de personas, cada uno de los cuales ocupa un cuadrante en un sistema de coordenadas. Si representamos en el eje de abcisas el beneficio, positivo o negativo, que obtiene el individuo y en el eje de ordenadas el beneficio (+) o coste (-) que causa a los demás, podemos definir y estimar las coordenadas de los siguientes tipos:

Desgraciado (D) Aquel que se causa un perjuicio a sí mismo, beneficiando a los demás.
Inteligente (I) Aquel que se beneficia a sí mismo, beneficiando a los demás.
Bandido (B) Aquel que obtiene beneficios para sí mismo, perjudicando a los demás.
Estúpido (E) Aquel que causa pérdidas a otros, perjudicándose a la vez a sí mismo.

Distribución de Frecuencia

La mayoría de los individuos no actúa consistentemente. Bajo ciertas circunstancias una persona puede actuar inteligentemente y en otras actuar como desgraciado. La única importante excepción a esta regla es la de las personas estúpidas que normalmente muestran una fuerte tendencia hacia un comportamiento estúpido en cualquier actividad o empresa. Para los demás, podremos calcular su posición en el eje de coordenadas del gráfico 1 como una media de los resultados de sus acciones en términos de costes y beneficios causados sobre sí mismos y sobre los demás. Esta posibilidad nos permite hacer la siguiente digresión:

Consideraremos un "bandido perfecto" aquel que mediante sus acciones obtiene para sí mismo un beneficio igual al coste que origina en los demás. Es el caso del ladrón que roba a otro cien euros sin causarle ningún coste adicional. Esta situación puede ser definida como un "juego de suma cero" en el que el conjunto de la sociedad ni gana ni pierde. El "bandido perfecto" quedaría representado en el eje de coordenadas del gráfico 2 sobre la línea OM que bisecta el cuadrante B.

Sin embargo los "bandidos perfectos" son relativamente escasos. Es más frecuente que haya "bandidos inteligentes" (Bi) que obtienen más beneficios que los costes que causan, o "bandidos estúpidos" (Be), que para obtener algún beneficio causan un coste alto a los demás. Desgraciadamente los bandidos que permanecen por encima de la línea OM son relativamente poco numerosos. Es mucho más frecuente el individuo Be. Ejemplo de este último puede ser el ladrón que destroza los cristales de un coche para robar su radio o el que asesina a alguien para irse con su mujer a pasar un fin de semana en Montecarlo.

El poder de la estupidez

Los estúpidos son peligrosos y funestos porque a las personas razonables les resulta difícil imaginar y entender un comportamiento estúpido. Una persona inteligente puede entender la lógica de un bandido. Las acciones de un bandido siguen un modelo de racionalidad. El bandido quiere obtener beneficios. Puesto que no es suficientemente inteligente como para imaginar métodos con que obtener beneficios para sí procurando también beneficios a los demás, deberá obtener su beneficio causando pérdidas a su prójimo. Ciertamente, esto no es justo, pero es racional, y siendo racional, puede preverse. En definitiva, las relaciones con un bandido son posibles puesto que sus sucias maniobras y sus deplorables aspiraciones pueden preverse y, en la mayoría de los casos, se puede preparar la oportuna defensa.

Con una persona estúpida todo esto es absolutamente imposible. Tal como está implícito en la Tercera Ley Fundamental, una criatura estúpida nos perseguirá sin razón, sin un plan preciso, en los momentos y lugares más improbables y más impensables. No existe modo racional de prever si, cuando, cómo y por qué, una criatura estúpida llevará a cabo su ataque. Frente a un individuo estúpido, uno está completamente desarmado.

Puesto que las acciones de una persona estúpida no se ajustan a las reglas de la racionalidad, es lógico pensar que tienen todas las de ganar porque generalmente el ataque nos coge por sorpresa. Incluso cuando se tiene conocimiento del ataque, no es posible organizar una defensa racional porque el ataque, en sí mismo, carece de cualquier tipo de estructura racional.

El hecho de que la actividad y los movimientos de una criatura estúpida sean absolutamente erráticos e irracionales, no sólo hace problemática la defensa, sino que hace extremadamente difícil cualquier contraataque. Y hay que tener en cuenta también otra circunstancia: la persona inteligente sabe que es inteligente; el bandido es consciente de que es un bandido y el desgraciado incauto está penosamente imbuido del sentido de su propia candidez. Pero al contrario que todos estos personajes, el estúpido no sabe que es estúpido y esto contribuye en gran medida a dar mayor fuerza, incidencia y eficacia a su poder devastador.

Cuarta Ley Fundamental: Las personas no estúpidas subestiman siempre el potencial nocivo de las personas estúpidas. Los no estúpidos, en especial, olvidan constantemente que en cualquier momento, lugar y circunstancia, tratar y/o asociarse con individuos estúpidos se manifiesta infaliblemente como un costosísimo error.

No hay que asombrarse de que las personas desgraciadas e incautas, es decir, las que en los gráficos 1 y 2 se sitúan en el cuadrante D, no reconozcan la peligrosidad de las personas estúpidas. El hecho no representa sino una manifestación más de su falta de previsión. Pero lo que resulta verdaderamente sorprendente es que tampoco las personas inteligentes ni los bandidos consiguen muchas veces reconocer el poder devastador y destructor de la estupidez. Es extremadamente difícil explicar por qué sucede esto. Se puede tan sólo formular la hipótesis de que, a menudo, tanto los inteligentes como los bandidos, cuando son abordados por individuos estúpidos, cometen el error de abandonarse a sentimientos de autocomplacencia y desprecio en lugar de preparar la defensa y segregar inmediatamente cantidades ingentes de adrenalina ante tamaña situación de peligro.

Uno de los errores más comunes es llegar a creer que una persona estúpida sólo se hace daño a sí misma, pero esto no es más que confundir la estupidez por la candidez de los desgraciados.

A veces hasta se puede caer en la tentación de asociarse con un individuo estúpido con el objeto de utilizarlo en provecho propio. Tal maniobra no puede tener más que efectos desastrosos porque:

a) Está basada en la total incomprensión de la naturaleza esencial de la estupidez y
b) Da a la persona estúpida la oportunidad de desarrollar sus capacidades aún más allá de lo originalmente supuesto. Uno puede hacerse la ilusión de que está manipulando a una persona estúpida y, hasta cierto punto, puede que incluso lo consiga, pero debido al comportamiento errático del estúpido, no se pueden prever todas sus acciones y reacciones y muy pronto uno se verá arruinado y destruido sin remedio.

A lo largo de los siglos, en la vida pública y privada, innumerables personas no han tenido en cuenta la Cuarta Ley Fundamental y esto ha ocasionado pérdidas incalculables.

Macroanálisis y Quinta Ley Fundamental: La persona estúpida es el tipo de persona más peligrosa que existe.

Las consideraciones finales de la Ley cuarta nos conducen a un análisis de tipo "macro", según el cual, en lugar del bienestar individual, se toma en consideración el bienestar de la sociedad, definido, en este contexto, como la suma algebraica de las condiciones del bienestar individual. Es esencial para efectuar este análisis una completa comprensión de la Quinta Ley Fundamental. No obstante, es preciso añadir que de las cinco leyes fundamentales, la Quinta es, de largo, las más conocida.

El corolario de la ley dice así: "El estúpido es más peligroso que el bandido".

La formulación de la ley y el corolario son aún del tipo "micro". Sin embargo, tal como hemos anunciado anteriormente, la ley y su corolario tienen profundas implicaciones de naturaleza "macro". Si todos los miembros de una sociedad fuesen bandidos perfectos, la sociedad quedaría en una situación estancada pero no se producirían grandes desastres. Todo quedaría reducido a transferencias masivas de riqueza y bienestar. Pero cuando los estúpidos entran en acción las cosas cambian completamente. La personas estúpidas ocasionan pérdidas a otras personas sin obtener ningún beneficio para ellas mismas y, por consiguiente, la sociedad entera se empobrece.

El gráfico 3 muestra un sistema de clasificación simple entre las acciones que causan beneficio o perjuicio a la sociedad como un todo. Toda actividad representable a la derecha de la línea NOM implica una redistribución con beneficio social neto, mientras que las actividades que caen a la izquierda o debajo de dicha línea implican pérdidas sociales netas.

El profesor Carlo M. Cipolla, erudito historiador que ha investigado intensamente la sociedad clásica romana, la sociedad medieval y muchas otras de la antigüedad, está perfectamente cualificado para afirmar, como hace, que el coeficiente σ es una constante histórica. ¿Por qué entonces unas sociedades prosperan y otras entran en decadencia? Depende exclusivamente de la capacidad de los individuos inteligentes para mantener a raya a los estúpidos.

Más aún: en las sociedades en decadencia, el porcentaje de individuos estúpidos sigue siendo igual a σ; sin embargo, en el resto de la población Cipolla observa, sobre todo entre los individuos que están en el poder, una alarmante proliferación de bandidos con un elevado porcentaje de estupidez. Y entre los que no están en el poder, un igualmente alarmante crecimiento del número de los desgraciados incautos. Tal cambio en la composición de la población de los no estúpidos es el que refuerza inevitablemente el poder destructivo de la fracción σ y conduce al país a la ruina.

"Compact City Replaces Sprawl", por Nikos A. Salingaros

The compact, geometrically integrated city can and should replace suburban sprawl as the dominant development pattern in the future. This approach to urban planning and design is well established among proponents of the New Urbanist and Smart Growth movements. However, the more radical scenario I propose in this paper is that the compact city should also replace the high-rise, ultra-high-density megacity model. I will present arguments for the compact city from both directions, criticizing both conventional suburbia and the hyper-intensity of the urban core. A radical intervention is required on the part of concerned urbanists. We need to rethink the positioning of individual buildings to form a coherent urban fabric, as well as the role of thoroughfares, parking, and urban spaces. New zoning codes based on the rural-to-urban Transect and the form of the built environment are now available to assure predictable densities and mixed use for the compact city.

1. INTRODUCTION.

Sprawl is a remorseless phenomenon. We see it covering more and more of the earth's surface, whether it is in the form of favelas invading the countryside in the developing world, or as monotonous subdivisions in the United States. Nevertheless, the city of tomorrow (actually, in many parts of the world, the city of today) has a low-rise, compact human scale. If the government does not forbid it (or cannot control it), favelas eventually condense to define compact urban regions, but the same organizing process cannot occur in subdivisions because of anti-urban zoning. A favela can become living urban fabric, whereas its high-priced US analog remains dead. The difference is in the connectivity.

Suburban sprawl has become a self-generating, self-fulfilling machine that produces an enormous amount of mechanical movement, but is not conducive to natural human actions and needs. Sprawl persists because vehicles define a now-familiar self-perpetuating entity: the auto-dependent landscape. Cars enable sprawl, and sprawl needs cars. This suburban machine now circumvents its human creators and feeds in directly to the globalized economy. Yet it wastes untold amounts of time and resources, while trapping those without cars in their homes.

High-rise apartment and office towers are equally unsustainable. The serious threat of high energy costs makes both ultra-high-density environments based on skyscrapers, and low-density suburban sprawl no longer feasible. Ultra-high-density urbanism creates more problems than it solves, in the form of energy reliance that draws on the resources of an enormous surrounding region and shortsightedly depends on an uninterrupted supply of cheap oil. Our only alternative is the smaller-scale, compact city, ideally surrounded by and close to agricultural lands for local food supply. We should produce viable settlements at optimal densities for the human scale, just as body tissue has a compact structure at an optimal density. This can be achieved through thoughtful planning and the appropriate codes.

Urbanism once meant dense city living for humans, but anti-urban forces have (literally) driven people out to the opposite condition: low-density suburban sprawl. The correct solution is not formless sprawl, however, but an intermediate density low-rise compact city that is geometrically integrated. The huge commercial success of postwar suburban growth (a low-density phenomenon) took place because it harnessed genuine and powerful socio-economic forces. It also generated and fed some of those forces by means of clever media manipulation and advertising. Those same forces can be channeled to build a better environment for human beings ”the compact, geometrically integrated city” so as to make an urban environment adaptable as much as possible. Suggestions for achieving that on a theoretical level are offered in (Salingaros, 2005a).

There is nothing wrong with either high density or low density per se, as long as it is well integrated with other densities and is in the right place (not too much of the same thing). People in the past several decades seem to have bought into the false notion of geometrical uniformity, which goes back to the now discredited 1933 Charter of Athens (Salingaros, 2005b). That document introduced notions that turned out to be catastrophic for cities, such as separating functions into single-use zoning, the false economy of scale, and also seductive but toxic images of ultra-high-density skyscrapers, vast open plazas, and uniform housing developments. It gave planners the idea of disintegrating the city into non-interacting components, or at best, ones that interact with each other only at tremendous cost and inconvenience; the opposite of a geometrically integrated city.

2. DUANY AND THE TRANSECT.

Even the best theoretical urbanism is close to useless without changes in our zoning codes, however. The existing codes, more than anything, determine the pattern of urbanism. The planner-architect Andreas Duany and his partner Elizabeth Plater-Zyberk are at the forefront of efforts to reform these codes. They coded and designed the highly successful New Urbanist community of Seaside, Florida in the mid 1980s. The momentum from Seaside propelled traditional town planning again into the mainstream of planning options (Duany & Plater-Zyberk, 2005; Duany et. al., 2000). Duany and his colleagues have built numerous New Urbanist projects around the world, and in each case they work closely with the local government to adopt codes based on urban form instead of the separation of uses. Without a form-based code, one cannot predictably plan a human-scale community. Duany will not work for a community that wants to rebuild itself, but which stubbornly retains its postwar anti-urban codes. He has found out from experience that it leads to time-consuming and irresolvable conflicts.

Using a very pragmatic approach to urban form, Duany classifies different zones according to a Transect (i.e. a cross-section of a continuum) of the built environment, according to intensity and density of urban components. He then proposes that communities ensure their desired urban character by adopting written codes that prescribe it. In Transect planning there are six zones, but the three zones T3 (Sub-Urban), T4 (Urban General), and T5 (Urban Center) (Duany & Plater-Zyberk, 2005) contain the areas that we would identify with a compact, walkable, mixed-use village or city neighborhood. Unfortunately, the single-use zoning of the past sixty years has made such compact patterns illegal. (Note that, as explained below, Sub-Urban is not the same thing as suburban).

I propose that a compact T3/T4/T5 city or town begin to substitute for suburban sprawl everywhere around the world. The compact city is sustainable, whereas both sprawl and the high-rise megacity are not. The Transect codes are ready for immediate use, and should therefore be adopted by government agencies. The β€œlow-density city” we now see erasing farmland is not a city: it feeds off and depletes a vast region that it keeps at a distance, so the functioning city is much larger, has a higher net density than first appears, and is ultimately unsustainable.


3. THE THREE URBAN TRANSECT ZONES OF THE COMPACT CITY.

Transect Zone T3 allows single houses on large lots, with a looser road network than in the higher zones. A Transect-based code limits the density to maintain a relatively rural character. Still, there would be walkable street connectivity to the denser Zones, so that residents are not isolated and forced to use cars for all their daily needs. Thus, T3 is part of the compact city, not estranged from it. (Country houses, on the other hand, would be part of T2, the Rural Zone, which is by definition outside the city). The T3 Zone may be the same density as the dreary suburban tract houses we see in sprawl ”technically referred to as Conventional Suburban Development (CSD)” but other key design elements in the new codes ensure much more housing diversity, walkability, and connectivity.

Transect Zone T4 is the denser Urban General Zone, with houses closer to each other and to the sidewalk. More mixed use is permitted, with corner stores and restaurants within walking distance of most houses. As soon as the density permits, therefore, the mixing of functions is actively encouraged by the Transect-based codes.

Finally, Transect Zone T5 is the Urban Center, thoroughly mixing commercial uses with housing. This is analogous to the neighborhood center or small-town Main Street in early twentieth-century America, as well as the traditional European village. Transect-based zoning supports the compact city from both of the critical standpoints identified earlier, for it also prevents the erection of high-rise buildings and vast parking lots, whose expanse and density destroy the desired human-scaled character of T5. (The height limit in the Duany Plater-Zyberk Transect-based Smart Code is three storeys for T3, four for T4, and six for T5). Other important details, such as sharp curb radii and narrow streets, help to calm traffic.

The urban geometry in these Transect Zones is entirely different from that of sprawl (Conventional Suburban Development): roads and buildings correspond more to the compact small town found at the turn of the last century. Suburban sprawl, on the other hand, is neither a low-density CITY nor true country living; in pretending to be both, it accomplishes neither. The correct Transect codes ensure that the complex urban morphology necessary to support the city for people will not disintegrate into disconnected sprawl.

One crucial point of the Transect is that the three zones T3, T4, and T5 connect to and adjoin each other. Each one is kept by its own code from changing wildly, yet each one needs the other two next to it. Suburbia without an urban center requires constant driving, while a downtown without a healthy mix of uses is dead after business hours (Salingaros, 2005b). The codes prevent the repetition of one single zone over a wide area, thus preventing the monoculture of sprawl.

Theoretical work (Salingaros, 2005a) based upon earlier work by Christopher Alexander (Alexander et. al., 1977) supports Duany and Plater-Zyberk´s practical prescriptions with fundamental arguments about urban form and structure. New Urbanist solutions also draw upon the neo-traditional notions of Leon Krier (Krier, 1998). The same approaches will, of course, also work for the Urban Core (T6), as well as for Natural and Rural Zones (T1 and T2), and the appropriate Transect-based codes apply to those densities as well. Nevertheless, here my topic is the compact city, a human-scaled city to replace both sprawl and the high-rise megacity. The compact city, therefore, involves only the medium-density zones of T3, T4, and T5.


4. SPRAWL IS DRIVEN BY THE CAR.

Sprawl exists only because it is an outgrowth of car activities. In turn, this automobile dependence generates urban geometries that accommodate cars first and pedestrians second. These are the wrong priorities for a healthy life, especially for those who cannot drive: the young, the old, and the poor. The sustainable compact city must be designed for the pedestrian first.

People have been encouraged by the automobile industry and by government agencies promoting the automobile industry to indulge in an impossible and destructive fantasy of inappropriate urban types. In practical terms, sprawl comes about from misunderstanding urban morphology. The needs of the car automatically generate an urban morphology appropriate to the car. Sprawl relies totally on the automobile, and thus follows the dendritic (treelike) geometry of roads. A dendritic geometry is good for the automobile, but is inappropriate for human beings. Sprawl occurs when buildings are erected with no regard or understanding of which connective geometries encourage walking. Suburban sprawl grows uncontrollably, generated by anti-urban zoning codes that achieve the opposite geometry to what human beings need.

Complex urban fabric means condensation, connectivity, and mixing; the opposite of homogeneity (Salingaros, 2005a). And yet, most postwar planning has deliberately spread a homogeneous, amorphous structure over the earth, replacing healthy urban fabric in existing compact cities. Monoculture displaces and stretches its vital connections to complementary nodes, making the functioning city (a much larger entity that encompasses the entire commuting distance) tremendously wasteful of both time and energy.

With the wrong codes in place almost everywhere today, roads in fact determine the geometry of urban settlements. Let’s examine what happens when the government builds a road to connect two towns. A road in the countryside attracts new buildings along its length, thus linking each building with that particular road and with nothing else. But human beings do not link to a road: they link to work, school, church, medical facilities, etc. Clustering is supposed to occur among linked human activities, and not strictly between houses and a road. It’s the wrong linking, and it destroys the meaning of a city.

The solution is obvious to some of us. Zoning codes should prevent the dendritic growth of buildings along roads, and instead promote an urban geometry that concentrates human connections inward to focus on local urban nodes. Transect-based zoning has the correct zoning codes that do this, replacing anti-urban zoning codes that allow the unrestrained growth of the auto-dependent landscape.


5. LAWS, REGULATIONS, AND THE DEMOCRATIC IDEAL.

I have proposed Transect-based zoning to regulate the development of urban areas of different density. It may appear to a reader that this represents a rather strict set of regulations. The notion of regulations runs counter to our utopian conception of civic freedom, and may cause strong protests if not revolution. In the case of Transect zoning, however, I am simply advocating a REPLACEMENT of very rigid zoning codes that already exist, governing the geometry of buildings and roads. Most people are woefully unaware of how tightly the built environment is now controlled by existing codes on planner's books. They have been sold the false image of suburban freedom. In fact, Transect-based zoning provides MORE choices for development than does current single-use zoning.

Another misconception about Transect zoning and the New Urbanism is that it places severe restrictions on cars. It merely changes the geometry of how they move and where they park. True, in the compact city, the movement of cars is calmed, and parking is no longer dominant and obvious in front of buildings. But cars are not banned, and parking is adequate.

Still, for a variety of reasons, including energy costs and population growth, car use must be curtailed over time. Unfortunately, the immensely powerful car industry has successfully coupled the idea of personal β€œfreedom” with a car purchase, and it has been almost impossible to convince people to reduce car use. They don’t see that giving unlimited β€œfreedom” to the car has to be paid for by the destruction of a city, and of their own human environment. One’s car today represents something almost inviolate β€” a right of ownership and object of fetish all at the same time. It is going to be very difficult to educate people on this point.

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6. THE AUTO-DEPENDENT LANDSCAPE SELF-GENERATES.

The auto-dependent landscape consists of the road surface, parking, and all areas devoted to the care and feeding of vehicles, such as gasoline stations, garages, muffler shops, tire stores, hubcap stores, car dealerships, parts stores, car washes, automotive junkyards, etc. Shopping areas and restaurants take the form of drive-ins or malls set back in a sea of parking. In this way sprawl is a self-generating system with mechanisms for spreading and enlarging itself. In the auto-dependent landscape β€” occupying more than half the urban surface in many regions β€” vehicles no longer serve simply as a means of human transportation, but as ends in themselves.

Since the auto-dependent landscape feeds on and generates much of the world’s economy, it is not feasible to simply eliminate it. Many countries’ industries and economic base depend on producing cars and parts, or petroleum and petroleum products. Global wars are fought over the petroleum supply. At the same time, the auto-dependent landscape is changing the earth and human civilization, so it has to be contained. What is good for General Motors is no longer good for America, to turn around an old American slogan. Car-related activities within a city are still essential for our economies, but they must be kept on the proper geographic scale. The great planning fallacy in our times is trying to mix up (instead of carefully interface) the auto-dependent landscape with the city for people: all that happens is that the former takes over the latter.

Most important, vehicular speed must be calmed. The highways of the auto-dependent landscape are designed to maximize a smooth and fast flow of traffic, without any consideration of human beings outside a car. Those same principles of speed maximization at the expense of pedestrian physical and psychological well-being have been automatically applied to all roads inside the urban fabric, making it anti-urban in the process. My book β€œPrinciples of Urban Structure” (Salingaros, 2005a) offers rules that reestablish the city for people by giving pedestrians priority over cars. Those rules rely on earlier work by Christopher Alexander, published as β€œA Pattern Language” more than twenty-five years ago (Alexander et. al., 1977).

Despite numerous, well-documented presentations of energy/oil depletion issues, people remain blissfully unconcerned about their car-dependent lifestyle. They trust the transnational oil companies to continue providing them with affordable gasoline until the end of time. Gasoline will certainly be available β€” at market price, whatever that may be in the future. I do not add my voice to the doomsayers predicting the end of petroleum, but unsustainable urban and suburban morphologies will simply become too expensive to survive. The compact, small-scale city is sustainable, whereas ultra-high-density skyscrapers and suburban sprawl are not.

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7. SPRAWL IS ALSO DRIVEN BY COMMERCIAL FORCES.

The dream of owning an isolated country villa surrounded by forest draws people out to suburbia, and cheap land draws developers there. At the same time, lower rents and taxes draw business there, following residential growth. But because the form of suburbia is already established by single-use zoning, businesses must locate away from residential areas, and they must locate where there is enough drive-by traffic to sustain them. Since developers and builders have made fortunes out of selling this defective geometry, they simply keep building what they have done for decades. Government perpetuates sprawl by building roads and infrastructure in an anti-urban pattern.

Because business in sprawl depends on attracting the drive-by customer, then, it must announce to all drivers that there is ample free parking everywhere. Thus we have the shopping mall surrounded by a vast parking lot; the office tower in the middle of farmland surrounded by its parking lot; the university campus in the middle of nowhere surrounded by its parking lots, and so on. Urban morphology is determined in most places by highways and parking lots. Again, the priorities are exactly backwards. Thoroughfares and parking lots should conform to a compact urban structure, not the other way around.

The geometry of commercial nodes is generally oriented outwards toward high-speed arterials to attract drivers. Current zoning makes sure that it cannot be oriented toward residential neighborhoods. That must change with new Transect-based zoning. When a community adopts such a zoning code, there will be assigned Transect zones as described above and structured so that stores, schools, churches, and parks are within walking distance of homes. Density increases as T-Zones get higher, but never to the extent of the high-rise megacity that depends precariously upon a vast energy grid. In a Transect-based code, mixed use is allowed in all T-Zones, and the design of streets favors the pedestrian. The first priority is to get rid of the parking lot in front of a store, narrow the streets, and provide a wide sidewalk (Sucher, 2003). On-street parking is fine; as is parking behind, below, and above the store (Sucher, 2003). Parking garages must have liner stores with windows, so that the pedestrian does not walk past blank walls or rows of cars. People are more likely to walk if there are pleasant things to look at on the way.

Sustainable compact cities in place all around the world are now being destroyed by the introduction of anti-urban components. Not only are skyscrapers proliferating as symbols of modernity, but so are more modest typologies that profit one person while slowly degrading the entire city. In Latin America and Europe, for example, a new corner store typology copied from the United States erases the sidewalk and gives it over to parking. If this goes on (along with adopting other similar typologies from the auto-dependent landscape), that will unbalance societies that have depended on a human-scale urban morphology for so long.

Transect-based zoning codes limit the number of storeys in the compact city to three in zone T3, four in zone T4, and six in zone T5. This places a ceiling that protects the urban fabric from the negative consequences of high-rise construction. These problems include: the office tower (which generates traffic congestion for the entire region during rush hour); the residential tower (which generates strongly negative social forces as discussed in (Alexander et. al., 1977; Salingaros 2005a)); and the giant parking lot that comes as part of either of these (and which erases the human environment precisely where it ought to be intensified). High-rise buildings don’t belong in a compact city. Genuine high-density, high-rise city centers do exist, as coded for in Transect Zone T6, the Urban Core. Examples include the downtown Loop in Chicago, Manhattan, Hong Kong, and Sydney. But I do not foresee a future for new T6 Cores, so I have confined the compact city to a T5 maximum density and six-story height limit.

It is a great pity to see cities in the developing world self-destruct as they try to imitate the images of dysfunctional western cities (to them, symbols of power and progress). Cities in southeast Asia and China that had been working fairly well up until recently, such as Bangkok and Shanghai, have in one bold step ruined their traditional connective geometry. Their mistakes include building megatowers, then widening streets and building a maze of expressways to serve the new ultra-high-density nodes. For their entire future, those cities are condemned to be choked by traffic.

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8. LOW SPEED ENCOURAGES URBAN LIFE.

The compact city is a LOW-SPEED city. This feature has to be guaranteed by narrow streets and a special low-speed geometry. Planning has for several decades concentrated upon increasing vehicular traffic flow. This has diminished the livability of cities and urban regions. To rebuild a living environment for people, we need to reverse almost all the traffic-boosting planning measures implemented since the end of World War II β€” that is, rewrite the traffic codes. Roads inside the compact city should not be built to accommodate fast vehicular traffic. Cars should go slowly inside this region. The physical road surface and width will force them to. Transect-based planning calls for thoroughfare design to respond to the context of the T-Zone, not the other way around.

The key is to permit internal access everywhere for large vehicles such as fire trucks, delivery trucks, and ambulances, but in the immediate vicinity of a house cluster around an urban space, all the roads should be woonerven, the Dutch model of very low-speed roads shared with pedestrians (Gehl, 1996). Here we may use narrow roads with occasionally semifinished surfaces. We have forever confused ACCESS with SPEED. Today, fire departments refuse to cooperate with urbanists, insisting on an overwide paved thoroughfare everywhere. The reason is that fire chiefs want to be able to make a U-turn in one of their giant fire engines anywhere along any road.

The compact city mixes shared civic spaces with concentrated arrangements of structures. It defines a highly-organized complex system, in which each component supports and is connected to the whole. A city for people consists of buildings of local character and specific function that contribute to the immersive context of their Transect Zone. This is the opposite of modern β€œgeneric” building types, which are strictly utilitarian and connect only to the parking lot. Fixated on fast speed, governments or developers spend much of their money on paving wide roads and vast parking lots, neglecting the design of urban space. When building a low-speed parking ribbon (described in the following Section), parking costs should be the last priority, thus permitting gravel, and brick/grass surfaces. Such surfaces slow cars down.

Urban space is supported by the geometry of surrounding buildings (Salingaros, 2005a). Buildings should attach themselves to those spaces, and not to the road. A compact city is defined by internal cohesion achieved via a centripetal (center-supporting) arrangement, versus a centrifugal (directing away from the center) arrangement. Buildings are connected via a network of paths into clusters. A number of buildings should define a cluster perceived by a pedestrian as accessible (a low-speed setting). By contrast, buildings in suburban sprawl are outward-looking and connect to nodes in the far distance, but not to each other (a high-speed setting). There are rarely any local connections in a monofunctional region.

Sidewalks and all pedestrian paths must be protected from unnecessary changes of level, and any other discontinuities (Gehl, 1996). Cars on the other hand, don’t get tired, so their path can easily go around people and pedestrian nodes. Again, that slows them down (anathema to today’s traffic engineers!). Pedestrian paths should be laid out to connect urban nodes, and to reinforce a connected complex of urban spaces (Salingaros, 2005a). A parking ribbon can be designed to snake around buildings and pedestrian urban spaces — not the other way around.

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9. CAR-PEDESTRIAN INTERACTIONS AND THE PARKING RIBBON.

The compact city is a city for people, but it still accommodates cars and trucks. However, surface parking lots interrupt the urban structure and sense of an outdoor β€œroom”; they are dangerous and exhausting for pedestrians, and visually destroy any pleasant walking. They also create runoff from impervious surface, encouraging flooding.

Instead of taking over a vast open area, parking should occur in a ribbon of intentionally constrained road: I am proposing a radically different parking geometry, to be generated by new zoning codes. A parking β€œlot,” then, is just another road, not an open space. These long and narrow parking ribbons will branch into each other, assuming a networked form just like urban streets. A maximum dimension of about two car lengths will be stipulated for the width of any parking ribbon, accommodating only one side of head-in or diagonal parking. Parking ribbons don’t need to be straight, but can be made to fill up otherwise useless narrow spaces.

Furthermore, pedestrians should be given priority when crossing an existing large parking lot. This means building a raised footpath, sometimes covered by a canopy, and also giving it a distinct color coding for visual separation. Giant, uniform parking lots are hostile to human beings and essentially anti-urban. They can be reformatted into parking ribbons by building other structures inside them. Inserting sections of water-permeable surface into giant parking lots will also solve the serious problem of flooding from storm run-off. Such infill solutions can be written into a new code.

On-street curbside parking (either parallel, or diagonal) should be encouraged in the public frontage, but banned from the private frontage, between the sidewalk and building face (Sucher, 2003). On-street parking actually helps pedestrians feel safer on the sidewalk by providing a buffer between them and moving traffic. Sidewalks are not used if there exists a psychological fear from nearby cars and trucks; vehicular traffic parallel to pedestrian flow can be tolerated only if it flows at a certain distance from people. Adjusting the maximum speed of a road (not by speed limit signs, but by its narrowness and road surface) to tolerable limits also achieves this symbiosis. For slightly faster urban traffic, an excellent thoroughfare type to accommodate both car traffic and safe sidewalks is the boulevard, traditionally designed with low-speed β€œslip roads” and parking on the sides.

Parking ribbons already exist in traditional urbanism: as curbside parking on slow-moving roads; and on the sides of a fast-moving boulevard. Most parking garages are indeed wound-up parking ribbons. What I’m suggesting is that ALL parking should conform to the ribbon geometry. A parking lot should never again be confused with an urban space, and cars should never be allowed to take over an urban space.

Another solution is to have orthogonal flow for pedestrians and vehicles (working simultaneously with protected parallel flow). Their intersection must be non-threatening. The two distinct flows cross frequently at places that are protected for pedestrians. In this way, the two flows do not compete except at crossing points. Introducing a row of bollards saves many situations where pedestrians are physically threatened by vehicles. An amalgamation of pedestrian paths defines a usable urban space. This must be strongly protected from vehicular traffic. Any paved space that children might use for play must be absolutely safe from traffic. I discuss all these points at length in (Salingaros, 2005a; 2005b).


10. BEYOND THE TRANSECT WITH CHRISTOPHER ALEXANDER.

Where do the Transect-based codes come from? They are a result of thinking how to create an environment conducive to human life, obtained by comparing present-day with older successful environments the world over. They ultimately depend on traditional solutions, such as those collected in Christopher Alexander’s β€œA Pattern Language” (Alexander et. al., 1977). The Transect’s value lies in structuring a proven form of compact, traditional urbanism in a way that can be used within the existing planning bureaucracy. As AndrΓ©s Duany has so often expressed, he wants to use the system to introduce radical changes without waiting to change the system itself. He calls the Transect-based Smart Code a β€œplug” into the existing power grid used to working in terms of zoning.

There is another approach. Alexander’s new book β€œThe Nature of Order” (Alexander, 2005) is the most important analysis of architecture and urbanism published in the last several decades. Alexander advocates a complete replacement of current planning philosophy, because the existing manner of doing things is so fundamentally antihuman. That may be difficult to implement immediately, but the future of cities does depend upon ultimately applying Alexander’s understanding on how urban form is generated, and how it evolves by adapting to human needs. My own work (Salingaros, 2005a; 2005b) has been profoundly influenced by Alexander’s.

Alexander describes his adaptive design process, giving examples to show urbanists how to tailor it to their own particular project (Alexander, 2005). I will not attempt to summarize his extensive results here, but only wish to point out a key finding. Living urban regions have a certain rough percentage of areas devoted to pedestrians-green-buildings-cars as 17%-29%-27%-27%. Contrast this to a majority of today’s urban regions, which typically have the percentage distribution as 2%-28%-23%-47%. Alexander describes in great detail the succession of geometrical steps that can be taken to convert one type of urban region into another. His approach is to do this one step at a time, and it is eminently practical.

The result is what all of us (Alexander, Duany, Krier, Plater-Zyberk, and myself) want: a human-oriented urban environment. At the same time, Alexander presents a theory of urban evolution, which could be steered either towards a living city, or towards an anti-urban landscape for cars. The point is to recognize the fundamental mechanisms and forces that push towards either goal, and to channel them to what we want. Most important, we should recognize what we really want, since many people (including prominent urbanists) really do want to sacrifice urban life to the auto-dependent landscape, even though they may not openly admit it.

Alexander’s understanding of urban processes probes far deeper than the Transect. Duany and Plater-Zyberk have learned from Alexander, but want to affect immediate improvements. The simplest expedient is a change in zoning codes, such as the Transect-based Smart Code. Today’s urban environment is so fragmented, degraded, and antihuman that such code reform is urgently needed. Once healthy urban fabric begins to grow again, then people can see the advantages of a human-scale built environment. They could apply Alexander’s ideas to generate vital urban regions once again. Anyone who dismisses the New Urbanism as superficial, or as simply a β€œstyle”, needs to read Alexander to really understand urban form.

And yet, I must point out a fundamental difference. Alexander is convinced that genuine urban unfolding β€” the process of sequential adaptation that generates living environments β€” is not possible within current planning practice. He fears that the system is not only misaligned, but is also too rigid to accommodate living processes. The new Transect-based codes, significant as they are in improving an abysmal situation, are not flexible enough, according to Alexander, precisely because they work within the present planning system. Since changing a vast and established bureaucracy is next to impossible, Alexander proposes going around the system. These points raise serious tactical questions.

Defining urban character as inherent in the Transect has begun to reestablish an urban structure that can engender a new urban citizen. The Transect, however, is just a beginning: in addition to these sectional prescriptive codes, urbanists must extend their logic to multiple scales and work through a knowledge of urban adaptive processes (Alexander, 2005; Salingaros, 2005a).

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11. SOME CONTRADICTIONS.

There are several contradictions I feel I need to discuss. First, the limitations of working with a system of permits and construction that is deeply flawed, threaten to neutralize any code-based way of building cities. Alexander (2005) emphasizes that living cities can only come about from an adaptive PROCESS, i.e., building and adjusting urban form step-by-step. This is not easily reconcilable with the present mainstream professional culture. It is, however, the way that traditional building and self-built settlements arose for millennia.

Alexander’s fear is that any system that builds cities without a truly adaptive process will never achieve the intense degree of life seen and felt in cities of the past. That is not the aim of the present code-based system, which instead uses the existing bureaucracy to limit such an evolution of urban form. The gradual evolution of cities, akin to the evolution of individual organisms and ecosystems, is now illegal. What is allowed is a large-scale intervention, regardless if it is catastrophic or nearly so (planners cling to the myth of an β€œeconomy of scale”) (Salingaros, 2005a).

The second contradiction is that a majority of people go along with anti-urban sprawl and high-rise construction without complaining. It is hardly possible to discuss issues of urban form with a contemporary society that has become desensitized through its addiction to technology. Growing up in suburbia with the false notion of unlimited freedom has distanced people from truly human environments. People who enjoy eating junk food in their parked car; who love the ear-damaging loudness of commercial movie theaters and rock concerts; who own a β€œHome Entertainment System” (a monster television/stereo with subwoofer) and another subwoofer in their car, are not going to value the pleasures of a traditional environment β€” it only reminds them of a pre-technological past.

In the present atmosphere, I see Transect-based codes as the best entry-point for bringing a human environment back to our cities. I have discussed these issues with commercial developers, who insist that they are not setting urban typologies: they are only providing what the market wants, working within the existing codes. Clearly, our society has to learn to appreciate good urbanism before Alexander’s work and my own can begin to be applied to cities. The Transect will certainly help to move society in that direction.

Alexander would prefer for codes to be optional and voluntary: accepted by ordinary people on the basis of understanding and sensitivity, and not imposed by law. Duany, on the other hand, is suspicious of media-induced fear and manipulative marketing; those forces push people to reject connectivity and to want to live in monocultures.

The third contradiction is that human-scaled cities must be market-driven and implemented by legislation, but people don’t seem to be ready to do what is required. Any hope for a positive change must come from an educated society that demands good urbanism instead of its β€œjunk food equivalent”. Enough popular support has to build up to pressure elected officials to make the necessary changes in urban codes. Those who need it the most β€” the young, the old, and the poor β€” are either not educated about city form, or have no influence. New Urbanist ideas have been embraced by upper-income groups simply because of their higher level of education. That is not because of any particular attraction between the compact city and any particular socioeconomic class.

Ultimately, the most disadvantaged classes of society can least afford the expense of sprawl, yet only those who are better educated see the reality of a human-scale urban environment.

The fourth contradiction is the institutionalization of sprawl. In addition to planning codes, sprawl has been adopted as an unshakeable standard by insurance companies and financial institutions. They are reluctant to finance or insure the compact city, but will automatically help to build sprawl because all their offices and agents have been doing this for decades. That mindset is permanently fixed to the extent that even when natural disasters wipe out vast areas of sprawl, the bureaucracy does not permit them being rebuilt as compact city. An opportunity to finally get rid of anti-urban patterns and to reconfigure our cities is thus missed. All the discussion about wasting time in commuting, and wasting one’s salary on gasoline seems to be for nothing, if it will not influence rebuilding when an opportunity presents itself. This may be interpreted alternately as the bureaucracy doing the β€œsafe” thing; or as criminal willfulness.

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12. CONCLUSION.

This essay put forward a radical idea shared by many urbanists today: that the ultra-high-density city is outdated. There are essential differences with other authors, however. Unlike some of my colleagues who abandon any urban principles out of frustration, I condemn suburban sprawl and high-rise buildings as equally unworkable. Supporting AndrΓ©s Duany and Elizabeth Plater-Zyberk, I proposed a β€œnew” ordered urban form: the compact city. This new urban typology looks remarkably like the old geometry of small-town and village living, so it is really a return to traditional urbanism. Where it is radical is that it requires a complete rewriting of the zoning codes. That is essential, since theoretical urbanism is ineffective if the present anti-urban codes remain unchanged.

This essay also contained an implicit condemnation of planners and designers who refuse to distinguish between good and bad urbanism, or to offer any workable solutions. That is the equivalent of doctors refusing to diagnose and cure patients, deciding to give an equal chance to the microbes. Prominent designers talk about the urban condition, labeling the disconnection of our cities (and civilization) as a new, exciting phenomenon: a natural evolution (instead of extinction) of the city. They also accept, without question, the massive destruction of traditional urbanism taking place in China and the developing world as β€œinevitable progress”. Urbanists have a responsibility to intervene; they cannot be neutral observers. From now on, the world can only rely on pragmatic urbanists who are willing to tackle practical issues to create compact cities for humans.

"The Fractal Nature of the Architectural Orders", por Daniele Capo

A discussion of architecture and fractals can lead to ambiguous territory [Ostwald 2001; Balmond 1997; Jencks 1997a; Jencks 1997b; Eisenman 1986]. The aim of the present paper is to test with regards to architectural elements certain concepts that are proper to fractal geometry. The purpose is not to show that the architectural orders are true fractal objects, but rather that how fractal "instruments" can be used to approach certain objects and what kinds of information can be gleaned by such an approach. It is worthwhile mentioning that an architectural element is only approximately fractal, since it cannot have details that are infinitely small; thus, in this regard, I prefer not to speak of "fractal architecture," but rather of architecture "with a fractal nature."

As a guide, we can take the definition of fractal sets F laid out by Flaconer [1990: xx-xxi]:

i. F has a fine structure, that is, details at an arbitrarily small scale;
ii. F is too irregular to be described in a traditional geometric language, both locally and globally;
iii.F often has some form of self-similarity, perhaps approximate or statistical.
iv. Usually the "fractal dimension" of F (defined in one way or another) is greater than its topological dimension;
v. In the most part of the cases, F can be defined in a very simple way, perhaps recursively.

In the field of architecture, Carl Bovill [1996] performed a fractal analysis by measuring, by means of the method of box-counting, the fractal dimension of some works of Wright and Corbusier. In the present paper I would like to make some observations on the implications of an architecture with a fractal nature, and in particular, to demonstrate how a discussion of this kind is well suited to the architectural orders (it appears that thus far the architectural orders have never been subject to a fractal interpretation).

The architectural orders can be taken as meaningful case studies for several reasons. In the first place, the object of study is easily defined; secondly, the analysis can be limited only to vertical successions of elements that are clearly disparate; through focussing on only one dimension, an analysis can be perfomed in a systematic and precise fashion.

In spite of its simplicity, or perhaps because of it, the example of the architectural orders furnishes a very clear image of how fractal analysis can be applied to architecture in general and contributes to the resolution of the ambivalence concerning the meaning of the term "fractal" in the field of architecture.

A DEFINITION OF THE OBJECT UNDER EXAMINATION
The architectural orders taken into consideration are those defined by Palladio in his treatise on architecture (Fig. 1) [Palladio 1992: 30-67]. The analysis will focus on the succession of vertical elements. In essence, one takes the intersection between a straight line and the segments that separate one element from another, and this set of points is considered to be the element in question. This may appear to be an over-simplification, but it is also true that in this way a complete analysis is made possible. Further, the error that might be due to this abstraction can, at the most, result in the de-fractalization of the order. Thus, if we are able to demonstrate a coherence between our abstraction and the fractal hypothesis, then we are justified in saying that the actual order also possesses a fractal nature, perhaps even greater than that which we hypothesized. For now, however, let us accept the idea of investigating the way in which the surface is structured in one dimension.

METHODOLOGY
There are two methods by which the investigation is carried out. The first consists in measuring the box-counting dimension of the set of points defined above. The second consists in an analysis of the relationship between number and dimension of the intervals between the points (that is, of the elements that form the architectural order).

With the first method (Fig. 2), we count the number of small squares that are "occupied" by some point of the set being investigated, and at each successive passage, we divide the side of the square by two. Rather than using the classic method of box-counting, we will use a slightly modified version, "the information dimension" [1], which takes into consideration the number of points that fall in each square. The values obtained are placed on a graph so that the number of squares occupied are laid out on the x-axis, and the logarithm of the inverse of the side of the square are laid out on the y-axis.[2] By means of a statistical analysis the straight line is obtained that best approximates the distribution of points and the coefficient of correlation, which tells how valid it is. The slant of the line represents the fractal dimension of the set of points for the architectural order. In order to obtain the dimension of the architectural order (that is, the dimension of the original drawing, taking into account only the horizontal rows), it is sufficient to add 1 to the result obtained.[3]

The second method (Fig. 3) consists in counting the number of spaces with a length greater than length u, which is varied by halving it. The result is placed on a logarithmic graph in which the number of spaces is laid out on the x-axis, and the value of u on the y-axis. This system derives from the kind of analysis suggested by Nikos Salingaros.[4] In this case as well it is necessary to determine the slant of the line that best approximates the data and the degree of correlation between the two.

It should be observed that the advantage of undertaking an analysis of only one dimension is that the trend of the data can be immediately visualized. Given that we are talking about a set of points and not of a true fractal, it can be expected that, when the investigation is refined, the result tends to zero;[5] what counts is how slowly it does so (that is, how much more it tends towards an authentic fractal). This is easily verified from the point where the curve formed by the data flattens out to the point of becoming horizontal. The fractal coherence can be estimated, then, by means of a simple visual comparison of the data, which is not so automatic if the investigation is extended into the plane. In this case we have the values of the dimensions tending towards one, which is more difficult to perceive with the naked eye.[6]

COMPARISION
The analysis thus conducted leads to a set of results, but it is important that they be compared with a control situation purposely constructed to possess given fractal characteristics. Analyzing our "artificial" order provides us with a kind of litmus paper which allows us to verify the investigation. The limit that we imposed of treating only the succession of vertical elements once again works to our advantage in that we can easily construct a similar paragon. We can imagine reading the succession of elements typical of the architectural orders as a Cantor set. In fact, in the former as in the latter, we find large spaces surrounded by small spaces that are, in their turn, surrounded by still smaller spaces. At this point we must define a model based on a modification of the traditional Cantor set and subject it to analysis (Fig. 4). A first check can be effected by a direct visual comparison, drawing an architectural order and putting it next to a real one. When a certain plausibility of the hypothsis on the basis of the model is observed, we go to the same investigation discussed earlier in the section on methodology, and the results are compared.

RESULTS OF THE INVESTIGATION
The fractal analysis conducted on three orders of Palladio, the Corinthian, the Doric, and the Composite, and on the control model, showed a fundamental coherence with a fractal interpretation.

The "information dimension" method shows that all three of Palladio's orders maintain a certain consistency of the data up to the eighth level, indicating that the value of the dimension is demolished only when the count is based on squares with a small side that is equal to 1/256 of the height of the entire order. If we consider a total height of 10 meters, we can conclude that the fractal coherence is maintained down to a detail of 4 centimeters, which is not surprising considering that, in the architectural orders, that are mouldings that are exceedingly small.

The second method validates the results of the first, showing how the number of elements continues to increase as their height gradually diminishes, a characteristic that is essential to fractal objects. In this case, as above, the most important result is the large interval on which the fractal interpretation has been effected. The trend not being perfectly linear would seem to deny that this is true, even though the coefficient of correlation is still very high, but if the form of the graph is carefully considered, it can be discerned that the most important element is the tendency of the details to grow as their height decreases.

The "control" order, explicitly constructed with a fractal recursion, furnishes results that are very similar to those obtained from the analysis of Palladio's orders, reinforcing still more this interpretation. This helps us to understand that the jumps present in the graph relative to the second method are inevitable.[7]

The fractal dimension measured is not fixed, as can be easily verified in the graphs, but oscillates. The important thing is to notice that it also oscillates for the control order, and is greater than than the theoretical one that is known in this case. The problem therefore reduces down to two facts: the first is that the method itself has limits, as was noted above; the second is that we must not consider the orders as "simple" fractals, but rather as examples of multi-fractals in which diverse dimensions coexist.[8] Even taking into account these limits, it can be brought out in any case that the dimension runs between 0.6 and 0.7.[9] Knowing that these values are approximate by excess, we can in any case affirm that the dimension can be collocated in a position that tends to mediate between 0 and 1, where 0 represents the null set (a total absence of any element of interest) and 1 the completely full set (visual chaos, where every part is filled) (Fig. 5). The geometry of these architectural objects strike a balance between the two extremes, a fact that is held to be extremely important by both Mandelbrot [1981: 45-47] and Eglash [1999: 171].

Understanding the orders, which for centuries have provided the basis for Western architecture, in light of the analysis presented above, brings us to certain considerations. The first is that it allows us to observe, through the analysis of numerical data, how small elements are inserted in a continuous and coherent whole. If we interpret this structure fractally we do not distinguish between the essential and the inessential; everything is essential and so creates in this way a greater (fractal) coherence. It could be said, in this light, that the general form is not what counts the most, but rather, what is really important is the way in which parts hold together. For example, by means of this analysis it could be said that the "abstractions" that reduced the architectural orders to their principal elements (as in certain architectures of totalitarian regimes of the first half of the last century) did not grasp this fact, while an architect like Wright [10], even while not replicating the form of the orders, realized an architecture which, from the point of view of fractals, came very close to them.

The second observation is that the Cantor set constitutes an approximate yet realistic model of the kind of fractal geometry exemplified by the architectural orders. This idea could be carried forward by hypothesizing a simple process of "budding out" which gives rise to structural architectural systems of a similar nature (Fig. 6). Starting with few elements, a pier on a plinth, experiments could be undertaken to see what would happen when a greater number of elements was distinguished, introducing others above and beneath, and continuing this operation a certain number of times. It can be readily observed that this means of proceeding, based on a simple logic, is capable of generating a very high level of differentiation, giving rise in the end to something that comes very close to the actual forms taken by the architectural orders through history. The kind of structuring that we have seen presents us then with a peculiarity from the point of view of perception. In fact, we can affirm that structures with fractal natures are visually very robust. We can observe this by comparing two drawings, one representing Sierpinski's carpet, the other a square subdivided into smaller squares (Fig. 7). By slightly modifying the two drawings it can be seen that the second reflects the effects of modification in an accentuated way, while the first seems effected to a lesser degree. This characteristic of fractal figures could account for the fact that the architectural orders, even while subject to modifications in the parts of which they are constituted, maintain their "order;" if their geometry was not of the fractal nature discussed in this paper, the order would diminish.

NOTES
[1] The "information dimension" consists in keeping a count of the greater or lesser probability that a square will be "filled" by some part of the figure. For the definition, see [Peitgen, et al. 1998]. return to text

[2] For our purposes we consider the height of the entire architectural order, from the ground to the uppermost moulding, to be one unit. return to text

[3] This problem can be taken back to that of the multiplication of two sets with different fractal dimensions, the dimension of which is equal to the sum of the dimensions. Cf. [Falconer 1990]. return to text

[4] For a discussion of Salingaros's position on "fractal" architecture, see [Salingaros and West 1999]. The method that we suggest can also be extracted from the analysis of Mandelbrot [1987] of the Cantor set. The links between the architectural orders and the Cantor set will become evident later in the text. return to text

[5] A fractal object such as the Cantor set will never tend to zero but, in the case of real objects, we cannot ever arrive at this level of abstraction. For this reason we have introduced the definition of architecture as having a "fractal nature," to indicate that architecture which, within certain limits, behaves in a way that is similar to a fractal. return to text

[6] It is possible to propose a different means of representation which would still present the same advantages given above. return to text

[7] In essence, the form of the graph is effected by the fact that the length u has been halved each time. The jumps represent the fact that in those points the height of the elements "jumped" in a more rapid manner. return to text

[8] We are unable to find actual examples of applications of methods of multi-fractal analysis to architecture. Within the limits of this brief paper we can only advance the hypothesis that a similar approach can furnish new information about the geometry of architecture. return to text

[9] 0.6 and 0.7 are the dimensions of the set of points that has been found with our analysis. The dimension of the succession of mouldings varies therefore between 1.6 and 1.7. return to text

[10] For studies of Wright's architecture with regards to fractals, see [Bovill 1996] and [Eaton 1998]. return to text


Daniele Capo, "The Fractal Nature of the Architectural Orders", Nexus Network Journal, vol. 6 no. 1 (Spring 2004), http://www.nexusjournal.com/Capo.html

"The geometry of terror", por Juhanny Pallasmaa

THE MATHEMATICS OF THE STAGE

Developing as it does with the precision of mathematical thought, the Rear Window is probably Alfred Hitchcock"s most perfectly constructed film. It takes place during four days, from Wednesday to Saturday, and the events are filmed from the window of one apartment and mostly through the eyes of one person - the magazine photographer L.B. Jeffries (James Stewart), confined to a wheelchair with his leg in plaster.

Everything takes place in a block of apartments at 125 West 9th Street, Greenwich Village, at the south end of Manhattan, or more precisely within the buildings surrounding the courtyard. The address is made up as in reality this part of the street has no such number, because it changes into Christopher Street before reaching number 125. The fictional address is due to American law which requires that a film murder shall not take place at a real address. However, No. 125 Christopher Street was the address of the film murderer before the name was changed and in actual fact the model for the apartment block in the film was an actual building located at this address.

Most of the buildings around the courtyard are typical American tenements built in the grim "Federal brick" style. On the extreme right is a multi-storey plastered building, in front a four-storey brick house, directly in front a small, two storey building to the left of which is an alley leading to the street, and on the extreme left another red brick building that is so high that the upper storeys never appear in the film. The partly paved and planted courtyard is at different levels, and at the rear to the right is a part jutting out with a roof terrace joined to a glass fronted studio flat.

L.B. Jeffries"s home is a two-room apartment. The film takes place in the living room which has a kitchenette separated by cupboards. It contains a bay window overlooking the yard, a fireplace, a door to the bedroom, and a front door three steps up from the floor. The bedroom door is opened only once when the protagonist"s girlfriend Lisa goes in to change into her nightgown. This mysterious room, which is never shown to the audience, is a familiar Hitchcockian psychological theme - there is a locked room in the film Rebecca, for instance, the door of which is never opened. During the period of Jeff"s convalescence, a high bed has been moved into the bay, and the other furnishings have been moved to allow for his immobility and treatment.

"In my opinion the most fascinating films are those where everything happens in one single place, such as Hitchcock"s Rope or Rear Window, Marcel Carné"s Le Jour Se Léve and Michael Snow"s Wavelength,"2 said the American film director and researcher Peter Wollen in his lecture at the first Film and Architecture seminar in Helsinki in October 1996.

The extreme spatial restrictions of Rear Window - the film is seen from the perspective of a person bound to one spot and everything takes place within one huge set - was a stimulating challenge for Hitchcock: "It was a possibility of doing a purely cinematic film. You have an immobilised man looking out. That"s one part of the film. The second part shows what he sees and the third part shows how he reacts. This is actually the purest expression of a cinematic idea."

THE CHARACTERS IN THE FILM

Walter Benjamin"s description of the theatrical character of the townscape of Naples is an exact picture of the combined stage and auditorium in Rear Window: "Buildings are used as a popular stage. They are all divided into innumerable, simultaneously animated theatres. Balcony, courtyard, window, gateway, staircase, roof are at the same time stage and boxes."
The tenants observed through the windows of their apartments are like a collection of butterflies in glass-covered cases - the director even puts this idea into the mouth of the photographer, "they can ... watch me like a bug under glass, if they want to." The tenants form a cross section of New York"s colourful populace: a song writer composer, a young dancer keeping her figure in trim, a sculptress, a middle-aged spinster longing for male company, the passionate newlyweds, a childless couple doting over their little dog, a salesman and his invalid nagging wife, and the film"s protagonist, the magazine photographer L.B. Jeffries, Jeff, and his wealthy, fashion-conscious girlfriend - Lisa Fremont (Grace Kelly) who lives in the high rent district of Park Avenue and 63rd Street "and never wears the same dress twice". There"s a heat wave going on, everybody keeps their windows open, and to wile away the time the convalescent photographer in his wheelchair begins to observe what"s happening in the courtyard.

"The field of vision has always seemed to me comparable to the ground of archeological excavation," writes Paul Virilio. Despite being so contrived and restricted, the apartment block in the film is a rich excavation of city life in which the layers are only gradually exposed. The tenants form a closed community for whom the outside world appears distant; it is only seen in the film as a painted silhouette and a narrow view of the street. "What you see across the way is a group of little stories that ... mirror a small universe,"6 as Hitchcock said about the world in his movie. Lower middle class life was in any case familiar to him from his own childhood in the suburbs of London.

The tenants never encounter each other, except for a brief exchange of words between the sculptress and the salesman at the beginning of the film which he crudely terminates: "Why don"t you shut up." Although the tenants have outside friends, they remain strangers to each other. "You don"t know the meaning of the word neighbour," says the strangled dog"s owner about her neighbours at this most dramatic scene in the film. Not until the scream following the discovery of the strangled dog do they come into the courtyard space and look down upon the centre of attention; the darkened windows reveal the dog strangler and wife murderer withdrawn from the group. He can be seen smoking a glowing cigarette in his darkened apartment. The darkness of this scene is undoubtedly one of the finest of its type in the history of the cinema. In this scene the camera moves temporarily and unnoticed into the courtyard to view the characters from below, as a single wide frame shot, from the perspective of the strangled dog. This deviation brings about one of the most dramatic scenes in the film. "The size of the image is used for dramatic purposes,"7 says Hitchcock about his cinematic dramaturgy.

THE LOGIC OF TERROR

The suspense in the film is based on the irrefutable logic of terror. Hitchcock slowly awakens in the audience a stream of suspense which he dams until the final cataractous release. Hitchcock planned his film so precisely that after it had been edited, only a few dozen metres of film remained on the cutting room floor.

As is usual with an artistic masterpiece, Rear Window weaves innumerable details into a faultless fabric in which allusions and hints criss-cross unendingly in all directions. Every episode or line appears to contain meanings and allusions. Miss Torso (Georgine Darcy), the nickname given to the shapely dancer, intimates mutilation, the central theme of the film. The little dog is killed because "it knew too much", a natural allusion to the film Hitchcock directed twice (The Man Who Knew Too Much, 1934 and 1956). Hitchcock even wrote an enigmatic article about his wife Alma entitled "The Woman Who Knew Too Much".8 Even the words of the songs heard in the background always relate ambiguously to the scene. Colours, too, contain meanings: for example, Miss Lonelyhearts (Judith Evelyn) is coded in green; her dresses are always different shades of emerald green and there are no other green clothes in the film.

Rear Window is truly a masterpiece of artistic abridgement: its richness and logic are only revealed after seeing it several times. But great works always contain a great number of redundances, depths and levels. The narrative logic of the film, its architectural messages, role characterisations, atmospheres and secret hints, camera angles and shot compositions, space and image details, and words and music constitute a mosaic that builds up the suspense with the infallibility of the geometrist. The film ends like a geometrical exercise at school, q.e.d. - which was to be demonstrated. "Clarity, clarity, clarity, you cannot have blurred thinking in suspense,"9 as Hitchcock says.

THE SITUATIONALITY OF MEANING

Hitchcock stresses the importance of pictorial and material expression, to which he totally subjects the narrative dialogue: "Dialogue should simply be a sound among other sounds, just something that comes out of the mouths of people whose eyes tell the story in visual terms."10 Hitchcock"s interest is not so much in the stories in his films but "in the way they are told."

"The impact of the image is of the first importance in a medium that directs the concentration of the eye so that it cannot stray. In the theatre, the eye wanders, while the word commands. In the cinema, the audience is led wherever the director wishes."11
Hitchcock"s ability to reveal the hidden feelings and moods of the characters by a simple gesture, rhythm or camera angle frees the dialogue for its contrapunctual purpose. On top of an everyday pictorial narrative, lines are spoken that have quite surprising or absurd dimensions, like the insurance nurse-therapist Stella"s (Thelma Ritter) story of how she foresaw the Great Crash of "29 from the number of times her patient, the boss of General Motors, visited the toilet: "When General Motors has to go to the bathroom ten times a day, soon the whole nation is ready to let go," she remarks.

THE EXTRANEOUS AND THE CONTRADICTORY

The extraneousness of the events, their intermingling and occasional triviality - like the meaningless helicopter flying over the buildings at the beginning of the film, which hovers to gawk at the bathing beauties on the flat roof -increases the credibility and irrevocability of the main story, in much the same way as the mundane and incidental details in the epic works of the great painters of history. Tizian"s monumental painting Presentation of the Virgin brings a touch of ordinary life through irrelevant episodes: the countrywoman selling eggs, the boy playing with a dog and the mother with a child in her lap talking to a monk. A story achieves the aura of real life when it does not proceed too linearly and obviously; the individual will of the narrator and director controlling the events appears to simultaneously submit to the overriding power of destiny.

Fear and love are contradictory and mutually exclusive emotions. In Rear Window suspense and fear often develop alongside the love affairs; the scenes where Lisa and Jeff are kissing, the intimacy of the newlyweds behind the drawn blinds, the men fawning over Miss Torso, and the lovelorn Miss Lonelyhearts. Even the murderer is having an illicit love affair.

Alongside the yearning and problematics of love, there are powerful erotic and sexual suggestions and symbols, such as Lisa"s pining for love and Miss Torso"s erotic teasing, and on the other hand Jeff"s rebuffing of Lisa"s approaches compared to his obvious interest in observing the intimate life of the dancer from a distance. As regards Jeff, he has both phallic symbols (the telephoto camera) and manifestations of frigidity and impotency (a leg in plaster and immobility). Jeff"s rebuffing of Lisa and occasional rudeness is not explained by the difference in class or customs, as he would have it.

The events in the lives of the tenants develop independently of the main story, but occasionally the climaxes of these separate stories are connected, as for example Miss Lonelyhearts" preparations for suicide at the same time as Lisa faces a dangerous situation in the murderer"s apartment. Hitchcock creates a feeling of terror through well chosen scenes just when the mind is most receptive, such as when a bloodcurdling scream from the yard interrupts Lisa displaying her enticing lingerie, the murderer cleaning the butcher"s knife and little saw against the sound of children playing, or when Lisa is kissing Jeff whilst his mind is preoccupied with the significance of the murder weapons. The murderer"s gardening hobby also belongs to this series of contradictions. The occasional background sound of a soprano practicing simultaneously lulls the audience into a benign sense of security as well as a premonition of fear from the higher notes. "Emotion is an essential ingredient of suspense,"12 writes Hitchcock.

SPECTACLE

The lives of the tenants in Rear Window can be observed in the lit rooms behind uncurtained windows like separate films or TV programmes. Peeping into the apartments through the photographer"s long focus lens and binoculars is a bit like channel-swapping with a remote13; Lisa Fremont"s metaphors; "It"s opening night of the last depressing week of L.B. Jeffries in a cast", "I bought the whole house", and "The show"s over for tonight", as she pulls down the shades of the windows facing the courtyard in front of Jeff"s curious eyes, all indicate a show. "Preview of coming attractions," says Lisa as she flashes the overnight bag containing her nightgown, is also a reference to the cinema-like structure of the story. The transfer of the action from one window to another - as if moving from one screen to another - creates a comical effect, but also brings to mind René Magritte"s conceptual painting L"evidence éternelle, 1930, of a woman"s body painted in parts on five separate, superimposed canvases or the landscape variation of the same theme in Les profondeurs de la terre, 1930.

Actually, Jeff appears to create the story of the film in his own mind, as he interprets the meanings of the unrelated events he observes and almost directs how they will develop. The whole story might just be a dream or an illusion brought on by his immobility. He also cuts the film into montages by transferring his view (= camera"s view = spectator"s view) from one window and episode to the next and in selecting the image frames and distances with his own eyes through the alternative optics of the telephoto camera and binoculars. Jeff is thus simultaneously both the film"s director and spectator and Rear Window in its entirety is a metaphor and study in making and viewing a film.

THE REALISM OF THE SET

The apartments are like stages stacked one upon the other, like urn recesses in a columbarium, with no access to the normal anatomy of an apartment block, to staircases and corridors; only the flats of the salesman and Miss Lonelyhearts are connected to a corridor. The young man in the just rented flat on the left reopens the front door in order to carry his bride over the threshold, but where the door leads to remains unclear. The block of apartments in the film is like a tree lifted from its roots without access to the ground water.

Neither are the plans of the apartments "real", as they have been flattened against their facades so everything can be seen through the camera in Jeff"s room. For example, the flats of the Thorwalds and Miss Lonelyhearts are unorthodoxly approached through a kitchen. And where is the murderer"s (Raymond Burr) bathroom located, the walls of which he is shown to be washing?

The apartment block in Hitchcock"s film appears to have been built by man into a mountain, a canyon, the excavated flats of which apparently lack another side, despite the fact that the audience is shown a narrow view of a rear street and a restaurant located at the opening between the buildings. The courtyard and the apartments facing it form a huge stage surrounded by what appears to be a hidden back stage in the darkness of which the occupants move from the street to their flats.

THE PSYCHICAL MAP OF THE FILM

Peter Wollen sees in general the series of places in a film as its structural elements: "Building up the story of a film ... also means drawing a psychical map. In watching a film we form in our minds diagrams of the relationship between the different places on which the film is constructed, and of those routes the characters use in or between these places."

The routes used by the characters in Rear Window are almost completely in the unknown back stage, neither can the audience form the kind of psychical map Wollen spoke of. The exit from Jeff"s flat to the street is somewhere to the left behind the audience. The murderer creeping up the stairs to Jeff"s flat brings the unfamiliar rear of the building into the audience"s imagination and it is just the unfamiliar rear that maximises the threat: at this stage the threat is not just the rather pathetic Mr Thorwald, but the labyrinthine unfamiliarity of the building itself. The true identities of the tenants, their invisible intimate life and subconsciousness, appear to be concealed in this back stage. The threat is not contained in what is shown, but in what is not shown. The terror is not in the scene projected on the screen, but in the minds of the audience.

The wheelchair-bound photographer has to leave his front door unlatched so his girlfriend, nurse and detective buddy can enter; the three steps leading to the door prevent the wheelchair patient from opening it. The knowledge that the door is unlocked increases the threat of the footsteps creeping up the stairs. An extra dimension of terror is provided by the narrow strip of light under the door with its ominous guillotine-like shape. When the passage lights suddenly go out as the footsteps reach the door, it"s like the blade falling; the startling of the audience when the lights go out further increases the intensity of terror.

Hitchcock says about his special cinematic field, fear: "My special field (which I have split) into two categories - terror and suspense ... terror is induced by surprise, suspense by forewarning." He went on to define the difference between the two: "Suspense is more enjoyable than terror, actually, because it is a continuing experience and attains a peak crescendo fashion; while terror, to be truly effective, must come all at once, like a bolt of lightening, and is more difficult, therefore, to savour."

THE GEOMETRY OF VOYEURISM

The film tells the story of a murder and its exposure, but its central philosophical theme is actually the voyeurist gaze. The complicated relationship between the watcher and the watched in Rear Window brings to mind Velazquez"s painting Las Meninas. The location and role of the watcher have been the subject of philosophical contemplation in both.
"We"re all voyeurs to some extent, if only when we see an intimate film. And James Stewart is exactly in the position of a spectator looking at a movie," François Truffaut notes when interviewing Hitchcock about his intentions in Rear Window. Jeff"s voyeurism is not, however, a sexual perversion in its normal meaning, but more the professional curiosity of a photographer.

Although the concept of private life would appear to be quite self evident, the 2800-page A History of Private Life shows that it has both an interesting history and a multiplicity of dimensions. In a drawing in his collection The Art of Living19 published in 1945, the well-known cartoonist Saul Steinberg shows a set-up similar to that in the film of a dissected apartment block exposing the private lives of its tenants. But even Steinberg had his predecessor; as far back as 1847 Le Magazine pittoresque"s cartoonist depicted in his Tableaux de Paris drawing different life styles and social classes within the framework of a single building.

The voyeuristic stage and private performances of Rear Window are also connected to the private peep shows, the "tableaux vivant", of Parisian brothels in the last century. "That"s a secret, private world you"re looking at out there. People do a lot of things in private that they couldn"t possibly explain in public," says Detective Doyle (Wendell Corey) to Jeff.

By way of introduction to the voyeurist content of the film, the bamboo shades rise slowly underneath the credits, like a view opening through drowsily raised eyelids; this is also a reference to the gradual awakening of the unsuspecting sleeping photographer to the reality of murder. The shades are likewise a metaphor for the stage curtain; as they rise they reveal the courtyard, the scene of the unfolding drama. This introduction to the theme of voyeurism is also present in the hovering helicopter ogling at the scantily dressed girls.

Throughout the film, the camera - the voyeuristic eye - is bound to the wheelchair in the photographer"s room, apart from the climax when the murderer pushes his exposer out of the window - it then moves outside along with the photographer. The camera also pops outside during the scene of the strangled dog, but the spectator hardly realises that it has momentarily strayed into the courtyard.

In analysing Descartes" writings dealing with reading, the philosopher David Michael Levin uses the term "bodiless reader". The protagonist in Rear Window and the spectator are likewise bodiless observers. Jeff"s immobility eliminates the physicality of experience and transforms it into something purely visual; the eye subjects the other senses. Scratching his itchy leg under the plaster with a back scratcher epitomises the loss of Jeff"s sense of movement and touch. His complete reliance on his sense of vision represents the spectator, alone and bound to his chair in the darkness of the cinema. It is just the spectator"s immobility that lulls him into a regressive, dreamlike state.21

THE MORALITY OF VOYEURISM

"The New York State sentence for a Peeping Tom is six months in the work house ... You know, in the old days, they used to put your eyes out with a red-hot poker," warns Stella. "If you could only see yourself [with those binoculars] ... it"s diseased," Lisa scolds and comments that we are turning into "a race of peepers". "What people ought to do is get outside their own house and look in for a change," says Stella warning Jeff of the dangers of peeping. At the end of the film the murderer literally fulfills the nurse"s idea by pushing Jeff out of the window - to see the inside of his flat from the outside for the first time.

Jeff ponders whether it is ethically acceptable to spy on people through his long-focus lens. "I"m not much on rear-window ethics," replies Lisa to his semi-rhetorical question. At first both Lisa and Stella disapprove of Jeff"s snooping ("window shopper," accuses Stella), but later become keen peepers themselves. The murderer only realises he is being watched when, following Lisa"s worried hand movements, he notices the position of his observer. At this dramatic moment Jeff changes from being the surveillant to being the surveilled, and all of a sudden his former victim gains the upper hand. In trying to delay the approach of the murderer, Jeff blinds him with flashbulbs. In the eyes of the murderer, his field of vision is toned red - showing his temporary blindness and increasing rage. In this scene the contrast between darkness and light assumes an obvious symbolic meaning.

On two occasions Jeff"s suspicions about the crime appear to be unfounded. The main characters in the film, as well as the audience, are temporarily disappointed that no murder had been committed after all. This feeling of disappointment induces a sense of guilt which gets the audience even more closely involved in the course of the story. Whether in fact a murder has been committed is of importance also from the point of view of the moral acceptance of peeping. "I wonder if it"s ethical [to watch a man], even if you prove that he didn"t commit a crime?" muses Jeff.

In his book Downcast Eyes, the philosopher Martin Jay brings out Freud"s views on the relationship between the desire to know, sexuality and voyeurism: "Freud came to believe that the very desire to know (Wisstrieb), rather than being innocent, was itself ultimately derived from an infantile desire to see, which had sexual origins. Sexuality, mastery and vision were thus intricately intertwined in ways that could produce problematic as well as "healthy" effects. Infantile scopophilia (Schaulust) could result in adult voyeurism or other perverse disorders much as exhibitionism and scopophobia (the fear of being seen).".

SURVEILLANCE AND THE SURVEILLED: THE PANOPTICON

But Rear Window also philosophises about the distance between the surveillant and surveilled. In the film, the latter are always distanced by the courtyard or some technical gadget. Distance gives to the experience a sense of helplessness and loneliness, as well as a subconscious feeling of guilt associated with watching. The spectator also sees himself as a Peeping Tom. The voyeuristic effect is created just in the one-sidedness of surveilling and because the object is unaware of being observed. The fact that the objects of Jeff's = the spectator's interest never look back, creates a voyeuristic experience and turns the spectator into a Peeping Tom whose feeling of guilt also makes him feel he is being scrutinised.

There is an important psychological difference between the events in Jeff's room and those in the apartments opposite: the former are by nature theatre, whereas the latter distant episodes are cinema. Walter Benjamin discussed the psychological difference between these two art forms in one of his best known works: "The artistic performance of a stage actor is definitely presented to the public by the actor in person; that of the screen actor, however, is presented by a camera, with a twofold consequence. ... The camera that presents the performance of the film actor to the public need not respect the performance as an integral whole." The audience experience the events in Jeff's room as a continuum, but those in the apartments opposite as unrelated fragments.

Another element in the film is the duality of the voyeuristic gaze; simultaneous spectacle and surveillance. "Our society is not one of spectacle but of surveillance ... We are neither in the amphitheatre, nor on the stage, but in the panoptic machine," concluded Foucault. In his book Discipline and Punish, Foucault uses Jeremy Bentham's Panopticon as the main theoretical means for explaining how man became the object of surveillance in the institutional control, scientific research and behavioral experiments of modern society. Bentham's Panopticon had its predecessor in Louis Le Vau's menagerie at Versailles. At the centre of the building was an octagonal pavilion containing the king's salon, on every side of which large windows looked out onto seven cages containing different species of animals - the eighth side was reserved for the entrance. Similarly, in the film's menagerie there are seven flats being scrutinised and an alley from the street to the courtyard! But Foucault perhaps dismissed the possibility of simultaneous spectacle and surveillance, which is just what Hitchcock's film is all about. Vincenzo Scamozzi's design for the stage of Andrea Palladio's Teatro Olimpico, Vicenza (1584), a vista of seven different streets, is likewise reminiscent of the panopticon as well as the set in Rear Window where seven different flats can be observed from Jeff's room.

The film set lifts peeping to the third potential; 1) the movie camera watches 2) the photographer watching through his telephoto camera, and 3) the audience in turn watches the events through the illusion projected on the screen. Rear Window is a heightened central perspective film, which brings to mind the perspective drawing device used by the Renaissance artist in one engraving by Dürer. The point of projection of the central perspective, Jeff, is simultaneously a member of the cinema audience and the first person narrator of the story. In using a perspective device an artist normally requires an assistant, just like Lisa, Stella and Doyle function as Jeff's legs in his investigations.

CAMERA OBSCURA AND THE STAGE AS A MACHINE

The photographer tied to his room becomes both camera and projector, as well as a camera obscura representing his own room.25 "Can I borrow your portable keyhole," asks Stella taking Jeff's binoculars. The Peeping Tom is basically the photographer's room, the spatial location of which in the apartment block complex enables the ensuing situation. The set, made under the supervision of Joseph MacMillan Johnson and Hal Pereira - the Rear Window's panopticon - is perfect as the logical architectonic projection of the story.
The location of the film's action, with its courtyard, gardens, streets, cars and thunder showers, was made in Paramount's largest studio, Stage 18, which measured 55 x 30 metres and was 12 metres high.26 It was the largest set ever built for Paramount, and included 31 flats of which 12 were fully furnished. Hitchcock himself supervised the construction which took six weeks. The structures contained 70 windows and doors, and the walls in Jeff's flat were removable to allow for all possible camera angles. The lowest level of the courtyard was built below the studio floor. Filming the events in the individual flats and all the small objects (the ring, pearl necklace, the name Eagle Road Laundry on the murderer's laundry parcel - the word laundry alludes to the French mass-murderer Henri Désiré Landru, upon whom Chaplin had based his film Monsieur Verdoux eight years earlier in 194727) would not have been possible in natural light. The day and night lighting for this colossal set required all of Paramount's equipment.

As much as the narrative itself, the structure of the film is composed of the spatial relationships and geometry of the tenants' flats, the courtyard, the alley to the street, the street itself with the restaurant on the opposite side and the view above of the south town silhouette. The apartment block is a stage machine which produces the narrative according to the script. The set is thus a kind of variation on the theme of the promenade architectural - architecture subordinated to a linearly advancing story. It is also the architecture of surveillance and domination according to Michel Foucault's well-known analysis; his picture of the cells in the ideal panopticon-prison corresponds exactly to Hitchcock's cinematic panopticon: "They are like so many cages, so many small theatres, in which each actor is alone, perfectly individualised and constantly visible. ... Each individual, in his place, is securely confined to a cell from where he can be seen from the front by the supervisor, but the side walls prevent him from coming into contact with his companions. He is seen, but be does not see; he is the object of information, never a subject in communication."28 The scene in which the naked dancer is in the bathroom and the murderer in the corridor leading to his apartment, separated by only the thickness of the wall, are the solitary cells in Rear Window's panopticon.

PAINTING THEMES IN REAR WINDOW

Edward Hopper's painting Night Windows (1928), the theme of which is an illuminated room in the house opposite, is like something out of the voyeurist world of Rear Window. Miss Lonelyhearts, waiting for her imaginary companion or contemplating suicide, is also like one of Hopper's paintings - for example, Automat (1927) - lonely women sitting in a café; even the green colour of her dress appears in Hopper's paintings. It is evident that Hitchcock was fully acquainted with the works of Hopper for he had Bates' house in Psycho (1960) built according to the artist's painting House by the Railway (1923).
Many of Hopper's other paintings are also related to the voyeurist theme of the film. In Night Hawks (1942) and New York Office (1962) the subjects of external scrutiny are a night bar and an office; in Apartment Houses (1923) and Room in New York (1932) the intimate interiors of private homes. Girlie Show (1941) draws directly on the sexual content of voyeurism, whereas in Eleven A.M. (1926) a naked woman is staring fixedly at the courtyard from an open window. Finally, in Office in a Small Town (1953), a lonely man in an office appears to be surveilling and commanding his immediate surroundings in much the same way as L.B. Jeffries in the film.

A figure looking out of a window is a familiar motif in painting since the Renaissance. However, the spectator, the artist, is always in the same space as his model and with his or her approval. On the other hand, looking through a window into a room from the outside only became popular in our century. By its very nature a window is meant for looking out of, not the reverse. A view of the inside from the outside confuses the ontology of the window and makes it a voyeuristic instrument, and the object is no longer conscious of being under external scrutiny.

HITCHCOCK AND DUCHAMP

The voyeurism of Rear Window and the boundary between the private and public domains create a link to some of the central themes of modern art. The best known work dealing with the nature of voyeurism is undoubtedly Marcel Duchamp's Étant donnés: 1. La chute d'eau, 2. Le gaz d'éclairage (1944-66), which the artist was making at the same time as Hitchcock was making his film. Duchamp made his final work in complete secrecy as it was believed he had given up art altogether. Both the film and Duchamp's enigmatic work are studies in fixed eye central perspective, the interaction of intimate privacy and voyeurist gaze, and the intertwining of eroticism and violence. An intimate event becomes public once a district attorney becomes involved, in other words when a crime has been committed under the veil of privacy.

In Duchamp's three-dimensional composition, a woman lying with her legs apart upon a reedy shore, a gas lamp raised in her left hand, is observed through two holes in an ancient Spanish timber door. In the background sparkles an electrically-operated illusionary waterfall. The young, fair-haired female figure's hairless pubes are indecently exposed directly in front of the viewer's eye in the dazzling light of a diorama. The perspective diorama composition suggests a narrative of sexual perversions or violence, but the event remains unexplained.29 The way in which the spectator's mind seeks a causal logic from the hints in Duchamp's construction, is reminiscent of the way Jeff perceives the logic of the series of episodes he sees from his window. Duchamp's work arouses a simultaneous feeling of scopophilic excitement and voyeuristic shame. The incident in Hitchcock's film is exposed as a crime, but that in Duchamp's work remains for ever enigmatic; is this Duchamp's perfect crime? But as Octavio Paz notes in his essay on Duchamp: "We pass from voyeurism to clairvoyance."30 Likewise in Rear Window the voyeurist gaze ultimately leads to clairvoyance and the purification that characterises a work of art.

THE ROLES OF OBJECTS

The language of objects plays a central role in this as in all Hitchcock's films. "I make it a rule to exploit elements that are connected with a character or a location; I would feel that I"d been remiss if I hadn't made maximum use of those elements,"38 says Hitchcock about the importance of location and objects in his films.
The photographer's camera naturally plays a fetishistic leading role. The objects in Jeff's room offer clues to why he is in a wheelchair with his leg in plaster; the photographs indicate his profession, the close-ups of racing cars the dangers he loves, and the shattered camera the accident on his last assignment. The camera is Jeff's tool and livelihood, but during the film it changes into a means for observing, warning and investigating, and - ultimately - a weapon of self-defence. The slide photographs of the garden - which the murderer has used for burying something - are another dimension of the camera.

In the murderer's apartment the murder weapons (the knife and saw), the aluminium jewellery sample case used to convey the dismembered body, the rope-bound trunk containing the wife's belongings (Jeff and his assistants, as well as the audience, are actually temporarily led to believe that the trunk contains bits of the body; "He better get that trunk out of there before it starts to leak," says Stella) represent violence. The rope conjures up an unpleasant association with hanging in the spectator's mind. The murdered woman's ring and handbag also play a role in the story. Lisa slipping the ring onto her own finger has a double meaning in its reference to her ardent desire to marry Jeff. Lisa's fashionable clothes - particularly her overtly provocative diaphanous nightgown - and her fetishism for expensive objects related to her value world creates a powerful symbolic tension compared to the mundane lower middle class existence of Jeff and his fellow tenants.

The apparent contradiction between the wealth reflected by Lisa's family and profession and the photographer's impoverishment ("I have never more than a week"s salary in the bank.") is continuously emphasised by Jeff. But in his book Techniques of the Observer, Jonathan Crary connects photography and money in a way that eliminates any superficial class differences. "Photography and money become homologous forms of social power in the nineteenth century. They are equally totalizing systems for binding and unifying all subjects within a single global network of valuation and desire. ... Both are magical forms that establish a new set of abstract relations between individuals and things and impose those relations as the real. It is through the distinct but interpenetrating economies of money and photography that a whole social world is represented and constituted exclusively as signs."32 There is thus no real contradiction between the worlds of Lisa and Jeff - from the beginning they both belong to the same power elite.
The characters in the film are also treated as objects. The dancer and the ideal of perfection that Lisa represents are personifications of magazine femininity and erotic desire. In his immobility and helplessness Jeff is also transformed into an object, which the others have to move and care for. In the end even the figure of the murderer loses his vileness and repugnance when revealed as the pitiful product of a cruel fate he has only tried to conceal. Due to their prototypicality all the characters in the film are representatives of their own genre - models and concepts.

FICTION AND REALITY

In Hitchcock's film the audience is so gripped by suspense that the obvious theatrical unreality or architectonic incredibility of the buildings can no longer release or moderate the reality of terror. Architecture has lost its normal meaning and has submitted to terror.

On the other hand, the incredulous staged background can also be seen as a striving for absolute truthfulness. At the end of the film the police arrive in Jeff's room only a few seconds after being alerted, but in fact the Sixth Precinct of the Manhattan police is actually in Tenth Street, just opposite the entrance to Jeff's flat. The Hotel Albert, where Jeff lures the murderer, was on the corner of Tenth Street and University Place when the film was being made - nowadays it has been refurbished as an apartment block.
The script of Rear Window was based on Cornell Woolrich's short story of the same name, to which Hitchcock added some authentic material about two macabre crimes - thus the film's fictional crime acquires a realism from two real-life cases. In the case of Patrick Mahon, he murdered a woman, dismembered her body and threw the bits one by one from a train window, except the head which he burnt. In the case of Dr Crippen, he murdered his wife and also dismembered her body. For a long time he managed to delude friends curious about his wife's disappearance by telling them she had gone to California. He was recognised whilst making his escape by steamer, in the company of his mistress disguised as a boy, on the basis of his wig and lower set of false teeth.

HUMOUR AND FANTASIES

It is characteristic of Hitchcock to raise the threshold of an audience's suspense by creating a smoke screen of macabre humour: "And for me, "suspense" doesn't have any value if it's not balanced by humour."34 Innocent macabre comments by Jeff and Stella inveigle the audience into imagining that a woman's body has been dismembered in one of the flats and the bits carried away in the sample case: "That would be a terrible job to tackle, just how would you start to cut up a human body?", "Just where do you suppose he cut her up? "Course, the bathtub! That's the only place where he could have washed away the blood", "In a job like that it must have splattered a lot," and "The only way anybody could get my wedding ring would be to chop off my finger".

The film does not show the murder or the dismemberment, not even a drop of blood, but they appear even more realistically in the minds of the audience. The nocturnal moment when the murder takes place is marked by the woman's muffled shriek and the sound of a glass breaking, but at this stage the audience is not ready to appreciate the meaning of these almost imperceptible sounds; this they acquire later on when the audience returns in its mind to the chronology and logic of the drama. The night thunder that accompanies these sounds probably gives the audience a feeling that something tragic has occurred.
The events which the audience imagines and its feelings about them are more impressionable. "I have always felt that you should do the minimum on the screen to get the maximum audience effect,"35 as Hitchcock says expressing his principle of cinematic minimalism.

At the end of the film the audience is forced to imagine that part of the woman's body was buried in the flowerbed, after hearing that Thorwald had dug it up and put it in the victim"s hat box; this episode brings to mind the Mahon case where the murderer also had trouble disposing of the victim's head.

During the film the spectators and actors of the spectacle change places on two occasions: Lisa moves from the auditorium to the stage, ie, the murderer's flat, and the murderer to Jeff's flat, ie, the auditorium. But the murderer also steps into the domain of the audience: Thorwald's arrival takes place quite clearly behind the vulnerable and unprotected back of the audience. The traditional theatre convention is that the spectator is inviolable, but when at the end of the film he is violently attacked, the psychological security created by the theatre illusion is shattered.

THE REALISM OF DREAMS

In his films Hitchcock reveals that behind everyday reality there is another reality. As he says: "Things are not as they would appear to be."

Any object or place becomes horrifying and unreal when we are capable of seeing through normal realism; beyond realism there is always surrealism. Subconscious, forgotten and rejected images seep through the ordinary consciousness dominated by the superego; without noticing it, our brains and nervous systems chart the dangers lurking in the unfamiliar. Even the faces of our mothers are transformed into frightening eroded landscapes if we stare so long that their familiar and loved features lose their ordinary meanings. In Hitchcock's films it is just the wavering between ordinary consciousness and dreams that predominates, the unreality of reality and the reality of unreality.

"For a director who bothers to really open his eyes, all the elements in our lives contain something make-believe,"37 wrote Jean Renoir in his autobiography. This becomes particularly clear when we watch Alfred Hitchcock's Rear Window.

The film is a kind of conscious dream. But even the artistic stages of architecture are always something other than the total of their material structures. Even these are primarily mental spaces, architectural representations, and images of the perfect life. Architecture, too, leads our imagination to another reality.