Learning from a collaborative renovation of a dazayuan in Beijing

Typical shared courtyard in Beijing © Matjaz Tancic
Entrance to the shared courtyard, after renovation © Matjaz Tancic
Morphology of the neighbourhood © Sinapolis
Condition of the shared courtyard before refurbishment © Sinapolis
Dismantling of the lean-to © Sinapolis
Existing and forecast condition © Sinapolis
The inhabitants continue the transformation process © Sinapolis
Expansion of the common space © Matjaz Tancic
The courtyard recovers its initial form and function © Matjaz Tancic

My studio Sinapolis has, jointly with the inhabitants conducted an original operation for the rehabilitation of a dazayuan. Located at the heart of Beijing, a dazayuan is a type of square and traditional courtyard, that has been strongly densified in the 1950s, but which is today very damaged. They currently represent 60 to 80% of the ancient center’s areas put under heritage protection. Understanding how these specific forms evolve is an elementary point if we want to bring solutions for the ancient center’s preservation. I hope my personal experience can demonstrate that a marriage between a participatory planning process with the local inhabitants and the respect due to the history of the existing site is possible. This article was published on the Chinese Portal of the New York Times, April 23, 2015: http://cn.nytstyle.com/living/20150423/tc23dazayuan/

Until the mid-2000s, it was very rare for a foreigner to live in the square courtyards of the historical center, especially in the ones shared between families, the dazayuan. The house I was visiting that day, was not even what we call a ‘’courtyard in a courtyard” (yuan zhong yuan), endowed with a wall surrounding the private sphere; this house was completely open to the neighbours’, and the property lines were blurrily drawn. The floor-tiles, the green 70s’ style tiles, the 10 meters-length single-storey and its spacious volume, the cypress stucked in-between two buildings, the feeling of an “inhabited landscape”: all of those features immediately won my heart. Although some interior work needed to be done, this good quality dwelling was sound and well-constructed.

I had then just arrived from Guangdong, after spending some time in Harbin and Shandong province for studying. I had never experienced a spatiality such as Beijing’s, where social ties follow the rules of a homogenous network of courtyards, mazes and alleyways, which combination creates a thick urban and human netting, on a surface equivalent to that of another urban gem: Paris, my hometown. The philosopher Heidegger established a semantic association between the words “build”, “be” and “inhabit”: in ancient German, these words have the same roots (bauen, bin). In Beijing, this layout in which the individual and the built environment melt into one body found its perfect application.

Degradations

It was not until early 2013 that the renovation of our dilapidated courtyard became necessary. The ground had become dangerous. The numerous layers of cement applied to patch up the several lumps in the ground turned to ice during winter to form a skating rink, hence making each of our movements difficult, especially for the elderly. In the summertime, the situation was no less complicated: shaped with ravine scoured up by the pouring rain of August, the ground was crumbling at every step taken. These arguments were enough to start a serious talk with the other owners about the maintenance of our maze. The continuous degradation of the courtyard was visible through some details, for which nobody seemed to care: the cypress had been cut, the main entrance was obstructed by bricks and garbage, water was infiltrating the walls, the awnings were turning yellow, a lean-to had been erected in the middle of the courtyard… the place that once appeared stunning was slowly changing into a ruin, and our common living space was shrinking away.

Yet, over time strong ties have grown between the inhabitants and me, I was not the laowai they pally hailed in the courtyard anymore; my young neighbours from Dalian were taking care of our 90-year-old doyenne during the evening or when their daughter could not come to Beijing (at 70 years old, she used to come by bus from Yayuncun almost every day to look after her mother). Our northern neighbours’ baomu fancied some talk about the rose bushes’ new blossoming. My landlords, who moved to the northern part of Beijing, also kept a friendly relationship with the other landlords. The pleasant atmosphere that overwhelmed the courtyard was in stark contrast to the decaying environment we were in.

For several months, the floor issue had been regularly raised, without any result. At best, the owners acknowledged that some renovation works had to be done, but they were worried about the costs that such big works would generate and therefore were constantly postponing the deadline. At worse, they thought that the situation was not that bad, and therefore that the restoration could wait for another few years. As a result of our discussions with the owners, I soon started to realize that two major impediments had to be overcome. On the one hand, some owners were suspicious of future changes in the protection plan for the historical centre (including our courtyard) and thereby intended to invest as little as possible in the maintenance of the courtyard. On the other hand, everyone wondered about the shape the possible rehabilitation plan would take: overall design, selection of the project manager, budget, co-ordination of activities…

For several months, the floor’s issue has been regularly raised, yet no results seemed to appear. In the best case scenario, the landlords reckon some renovation had to be done, but worried about the costs that such a work would generate and therefore constantly extended the deadline, in the worst case scenario, they thought that the situation wasn’t so bad, and therefore the restoration could wait for another few years. By dint of discussions with the landlords, I soon started to realize that two major impediments had to be overcome. On one hand, some landlords were suspicious of the possible changes a future protection plan for the ancient center could cause (including for our courtyard) and thereby intended to invest a minima in the frame maintenance ; on the other hand, everyone wondered what shape the possible rehabilitation plan would take: overall design, selection of the project manager, budget, coordination of activities…

Conception and rehabilitation works

This situation gave to my studio plenty to think about. During the summer 2013, we proposed a game plan: by playing the collaborator’s role, we would take care of the whole rehabilitation (from the conception to the coordination), and would finance half of the total budget needed. Each landlord would equally finance the other half. We felt that the establishment of a co-financing was the best solution to get the landlords involved in the project process. Once the budget was fixed, our northern neighbour gave us an envelope containing her part of the budget, a malicious smile on her face, she said she hoped that this would foster the other landlords to do so. A few days later, the total amount of money was raised. We then organized a small reunion during which we exposed our plans to all the landlords. First, the floor had to be renovated by putting cement pavers that would follow a precise pattern, whilst respecting its existing inclinations; then, the main entrance to the maze should recover its original welcoming function; the shared space should be widened by putting aside the lean-to and the piled-up concrete slabs, so as to maintain the houses’ frontages (primer, insulation, carpentry, awning…). The renovation propositions were related to both the shared space and the landlords’ spaces.

However, it rapidly turned out that this notion of “shared space” we were using did not really exist. We erected this notion as a fundamental feature of the project, however the presence of some informal buildings (lean-to, cement pavers), precisely built within these “shared spaces” inevitably jeopardizes this reasoning. Yet, the idea to give a “shared space” back to the dazayuan worked its way through and became somehow accepted.

Other issues were then raised, for instance the location and the utility of the old septic tank, or the one of the air-raid shelter, dug in the 1960s, – had it been sealed? Where were the stairs that led underground…?

We encountered many problems during the renovation period. The first one was to clear out the rubbles generated by the ground destruction. At night, dump trucks had to come into the hutong in order to remove ten m3 piled up in the street, which required demanding logistics. Besides, a flea invasion, caused by the renovation fuss or by the uncontrolled dumps that attracted every kind of bug possible, made our daily life impossible for several weeks. The summer pouring rains also curbed the renovations, which ended only 3 months after they had started.

Feedback

In the end, at last, our courtyard eventually won the most beautiful hutong courtyard annual prize, awarded by the local Committee neighbourhood. This has of course enhanced our action and probably reinforced other inhabitants’ motivation to continue renovation works by themselves. And so forth, the movement was set off. Thereafter, a new front door to the maze has been set up, the several interior spaces which function used to be stockage have been put in order, the walls of the small interior courtyard were repaint as well. Creating a common space for a place that used to be a mere traffic lane seemed to give a new breath to this place, even though we’d still have a long way to go in order to enhance the general situation of the dazayuan.

More recently, following a conference organised by the Hutong Museum, who invited me to relate this experience, a Pekinese authority in charge of urban planning organised an official visit in the dazayuan. This visit, comprising approximately 20 urbanists, was very encouraging to me, although this project only represents an isolated move, and is in fine a mere renovation of a dilapidated environment, it nevertheless shows that a collective spirit can still prevail in a metropolis where individuals’ interests and mutual suspicions normally reign – especially when property ownership is at stake. It also shows that a good quality urban operation does not necessarily imply a huge scale intervention but can, on the contrary, be realised little by little at the local scale, at affordable costs and with a collective monitoring.

It is only after the renovation was done that the “micro-urbanism” concept, which is the idea of a proximity urbanism with the local inhabitants, appeared as appropriate to our action. We understood that the self-management practices that are actually taking place in the shared courtyards of Beijing are an undeniable virtue for the rehabilitation of the ancient center, on the condition that the inhabitants benefit from advices and references to improve their living framework and that professionals like us frame and coordinate the project, while respecting the daily customs already set up. We also realized that the interventions can be ranked in a pragmatic way, following the needs and the means available, that can go from minimal transformations (clearance and tidying up, destruction of useless lean-to, ground restoration, adding up lightnings) to architectural interventions (replacement of unsanitary buildings) and on common spaces – creation of meeting spaces, installation of common equipments, promotion of small gardens, arrangement of patterns of filled and empty spaces to give a new breath to the environment.

Chinese and French architects and urbanists who addressed this issue with me also thought about this approach from a theoretical point of view: is it possible to have a city-scale impact by intervening at the micro-scale? Studying the situation allowed us to identify the dazayuan as composing an informal hoop net, similar to most of the architectural typology of the ancient centre. It then appeared quite clearly that despite some difficulties such as their – sometimes – extreme density or insalubrity, those mixed private/public spaces, directly connected to the street, present interesting solutions at the urban level. Small living units can be found, the potential for social and functional mixity is quite high, tourism could also be substantially developed… Historically, the dazayuan embody sixty years of the city’s urban evolutions. Rather than try to get back to the perfect forms of the Ming or Qing dynasties’ traditional housing, we thought on the contrary, that it would be more interesting to rely on the organic character of these shared courtyards, born during the modern era and functioning as a creative and extremely powerful social network.

In Beijing, the dazayuan occupy the most significant part of the built areas. Consequently, it is essential for the renovation of this “ordinary heritage” to be urgently written in the municipality’s agenda, and it has to be achieved with the same energy required for the burying of the networks, the restoration and harmonization of the hutongs’ frontages. To this end, partnership-based financing between collectivity and landlords should be preferred; bottom-up inhabitants’ initiatives should be fostered, especially through information and awareness actions; urban regulations sometimes too flexible, sometimes too rigid should be reviewed on a case-by-case basis, so as to adapt to the multiplicity of the encountered situations; finally, and most importantly, a local professional and multidisciplinary frame – urbanists, architects, sociologists, economists, craftsmen, artists -, along with the inhabitants, should be set up in order to modernise and embellish this very particular urban typology before it fades away.

Other experiences, of small or large scopes, such as the ongoing revitalization of the Dashilan neighbourhood, prove that it is possible, and not without difficulties, to align local initiatives, heritage preservation and long-term development, in the interest of our city, Beijing.

Translated from French to English by Kimberley Le Pape

Urban changes in Xinjiang : “sinisation” of the urban space

Photo 1: Kashgar, the creation of place with a symbolic column © Jean-Paul Loubes
Photo 2: Kashgar, creation of a place with a symbolic column © Jean-Paul Loubes
Photo 3: The new place in front of the Aitka Mosque in Kashgar © Jean-Paul Loubes
Photo 4: The giant statue of Chairman Mao in Kashgar © Jean-Paul Loubes
Photo 5: Widescreen © Jean-Paul Loubes
Photo 6: Kashgar, boulevard limit of the Uyghur city © Jean-Paul Loubes
Photo 7: Employment for people from the old Uyghur city as street cleaners © Jean-Paul Loubes
Photo 8: Employment for people from the old Uyghur city in city maintenance © Jean-Paul Loubes
Photo 9: Turfan, Emin Minaret Mosque © Jean-Paul Loubes
Photo 10: Mazar of Toyuk © Jean-Paul Loubes

The Chinese model, with its efficiency and power to radically transform urban space, has been operating for approximately 20 years in Xinjiang. As a tool of spatial organization, it has led to the “sinisization” of oasis-cities North and South of the Silk Road, which predominately contain Uyghur populations of Muslim faith. This reorganization of peripheral spaces is an endeavor that began quite a long time ago in cities around China, including in Inner Mongolia (Hohhot[1]) and in dual cities of Xinjiang[2].

The economic development of China over the last 20 years has now lent this transformation an exceptional speed and magnitude. The methods used by developers to create attributes of Chinese space in these territories can be seen as different levels of a calculated urban strategy. The contents of this strategy are articulated around what we have called “Chinese regularity”: the implementation and extensions of new routes in old centers, the creation of central places with their common attributes duplicated in several Chinese cities, and new architectural and urban models. This urban regularity replaces the irregularity which characterized the agglomeration of old settlements, including those of the Uyghur in these oasis towns.

In addition to this renewal of the routes and form of the city, redefining the role of old city centers is a second important factor. China is certainly not the only country to have followed this direction. As was the case in many historic cities of Europe, the “manipulation” of people for tourism radically alters the activity, occupation, and appearance of these centers. Finally, more characteristic of Asian cultures and especially Chinese cultures, is the occupation of visual and sound space in oasis towns by various forms of Han culture, creating a significantly altered urban environment that is alienating to many Uyghurs. The following analysis is based on the cities of Kashgar, Yarkand, Khotan, Turpan and Urumqi, where I have been working and researching since 1990.

Urban transformations in Xinjiang

The strategies implemented to transform Xinjiang’s Uyghur cities are radical. We know that architectural and urban spaces are some of the most complete productions[3] of human culture insofar as, in them lifestyles, representations of the world, and standards of civility are crystallized. It is through these forms that societies often constitute themselves, stabilize, and continue to exist. The change, alteration or transformation of such spaces directly affect the heart of a culture and in turn provoke adaptations, negotiations, or rejections from everday people and inhabitants. There are more than 8 million Uyghurs in Xinjiang. The Uyghur population is tantamount to the entire population of Sweden, or twice the population of Norway or Tibet. Having only recently become a minority in most cities in Xinjiang, they held the position of majority in the province until 1950. At this time, the Han accounted for less than 10% of the population. In the eighties, inner colonization through the acceleration of Chinese population growth caused the Chinese proportion of inhabitants to jump up to 45% (figure from 1988). Today, the process continues with the emigration of low-income Chinese populations, the number now getting close to 50%. In Urumqi, 80% of the population is now Han[4].

Xinjiang, the largest autonomous region in China, covers 1/6 of the country’s total area. The Silk Road bypasses one of the greatest deserts, the Taklamakan, from the North and the South by linking oasis towns that were previously separated by ten or twelve days of travel by caravan. These oasis towns offered much-needed shelter to gradually cross the extremities of the area’s deserts. The distance between these cities gave them a certain autonomy, allowing different people to settle there while retaining their original values: Uyghurs, Tibetans, Kyrgyz, Kazakhs, Russians, and Uzbeks all at one point came to call these cities home. Simultaneously, their location on the Silk Road put them in contact with not only each other, but the outside world, including Chinese, Iranians, those from Central Asia, and Westerners. The number of religions that have been brought into these oasis cities is impressive: Buddhism, Nestorian Christianity, Manichaeism, and Islam to name but a few. In this complex context, original cultures were born that stirred the passions of travellers, explorers and missionaries.

The “Chinese model” as strategy

The traditional model of the Chinese city originated in the ancient Zhou period (12th – 7th century BC), based on principles that were said to come “from the North of China”[5]. These precepts were based on “urban regularity” and have persisted through the centuries in China’s capitals (Xi’an for the Han and Tang, Beijing for the Yuan, Ming and Qing) and spread throughout Asia (Japan, Burma, Korea). The roots of their foundations, as far as we know, come from ancient cosmology[6]. Let’s recall the basic principles that characterize this model: the interlocking of square courtyards, walled cities consisting of a square or rectangular shape, symmetrical grid-cities arranged on a North-South axis, and the positioning of the kings’ or emperors’ palaces on this axis. This model also includes public spaces deployed in straight lines along the avenues, and not on empty urban spaces that are limited by built structures. This also applies to the squares and city-gardens in western cities (which did not appear in China until very recently). The plans of Beijing and Xi’an are illustrations of these principles of urban regularity.

This model represents the ideal of a Chinese city and unifies urban culture across the whole country in the long term. A trove of Chinese values, it is intended to be applied in all human settlements and territories. Yet this model is fairly exclusive in respect to its disregard for mixed Chinese cultures, as Marcel Granet’s work has illustrated. It replaces the culture it encounters without any attempt to adapt or intermingle (as was the case in Mongolia, Tibet, and Xinjiang). Chinese history testifies to this trend. 20th century China has continued in this tradition, with methods that Granet likely could have never imagined when describing his theories of “effectiveness” and “efficiency”.

This radical transformation of urban space involves two levels that form the shape of the city:

1) The urban level: The network of roads and transportation, the templates of voids and solids forming the shape and size of urban islets, and the form of public spaces, streets and squares.
2) The architectural level: Repetitive patterns of contemporary Chinese architecture where functionality and modern design are given priority are replacing traditional Uyghur architecture, which possesses qualities that are significantly more climatically practical, urban, constructive and aesthetic. These traditional Uyghur architectural forms and techniques were developed over long periods of time and performed remarkably in this desert region, one of the hottest places on the planet.

Urban transformations: the case of Turfan[7]

Historical European, Russian and Japanese travelers could conventionally distinguish two urban forms from a distance: the “Turkish city” and the “Chinese city”. A layout plan of Turfan (see scheme map) from the 1970s shows that the two city forms were still distinguishable at that time. The “Turkish” city on the West side (here called the Uyghur city) settled where the karez emerged; the karez being oviducts that collect water from underground (Qanats in Iran).

We can follow the development process as it is implemented from the 1970s. At first, the establishment of regular lines (see scheme map) will link the “Chinese” and “Turkish” neighborhoods, which were quite distinct before 1950. This new urban organization provides the basis for the extension of the current modern city on former agricultural lands today.

Secondly, through the extension of land plots on formerly urbanized parts of the Turkish city, the urban form is reshaped with a new regular cut that replaces the irregularity that previously existed (see scheme map). Gradually, the new network subsumed and replaced the older one. Specifically, it was able to capture and accommodate increasing traffic flow, which became critical after the 1980s. When we consider the importance of busy streets, the activity of free trade that has grown rapidly from 1985, and its relationship with the utility of the car, we can see that the majority of all sales, repair, and restoration activities have been carried out primarily for the benefit of new roads. The swathes cut through the mud houses of traditional neighborhoods are new massive highways spreading “Chinese territory”; rigidly delineated avenues and wide boulevards. These openings are designed to cut standardized islets in the old city. These interventions in the old city spread and proliferated over time, from 1970 to 1990. Proceeding slowly, they could appear as though they were not specifically aimed at traditional residences themselves, but rather at correcting housing alignment and improving traffic flows. An urban layout was being combined with local architecture, whose overall integrity seemed to be generally respected.

The third step is to renovate, one by one, the new delimited islets and substitute Uyghur mudbrick homes for new Chinese collective buildings. The linked figure shows the whole process of the sinisization of space. This applies to other cases of Chinese spatial practice as well, which also include other cultures peripheral to the Middle Kingdom (for e.g. Tibet, Mongolia).

The opening of new linear roads plays a fundamental role in reshaping urban form. It is the new mark of Chinese public space: the wide avenue lined with sidewalks, framed by new high-rise buildings. The new buildings will then border these avenues and mark boundaries, leaving between them some gaps, streets, or lanes, to access the interior of the islets still occupied by Uyghur architecture. The contrast between the Chinese city (the new avenues) to the Uyghur city (the heart of the small islets) is brutal and stark (Photo 1, in Kashgar). The islets resulting from this process will then be renovated one by one from the inside, in order to complete the transformation process of the regularization of the city.

The systematization of a Tiananmen Square-like creation in the center of each oasis-city is the next step. This is the most “visible” of the measures. This place, always of a regular form (square or rectangular), gives the city a new and remodeled centrality around which the values of the Chinese nation can anchor themselves. These values are expressed through the establishment and erection of specific meaningful objects.

For instance, take the monumental column for the “heroes of the revolution.” It is a symbol of unity for Chinese people. The monuments visible in Urumqi (Photo 2) and in oasis cities on the Silk Road’s North and South, such as Kashgar, Hotien, Turfan, or Yarkand, are the equivalent to or replications of the column of the people’s heroes that marks the center of Tiananmen Square in Beijing.

Surrounding the Uyghur city

In Urumqi, the capital of Xinjiang, the headquarters of the Communist Party Committee of the Autonomous Region, along with a few international hotels, overlook the newly renovated urban landscape. It occupies the islet formed by the avenues Jiang Kang, Dong Feng, Zhong Shan and North Heping. Urban surroundings here are comprised of the Bank of China, Hua Xia Bank, and Tian Shan Shopping Center. In 1990, this location was the ancient Uyghur historical center of Urumqi. The adobe houses here were made up of one or two floors, with the ground floor usually occupied by traditional shops.

In Turfan, this kind of urban model is growing on every corner of the North-South axis, in the center of what was once a Uyghur city in 1990. The place is paved with marble and polished granite. With 16mm of rainfall per year, Turfan is the hottest place in China. It requires bold courage to cross this “white-hot plate” in broad daylight at midday. The ponds and fountains that retain water from the melting snowy caps of Tian Shan Mountain appear as an outright challenge when water is scarce in Taklamakan and when ice disappears from the mountain top. Public gardens are made with plastic imitations of palm trees and cacti that resemble the vegetation of Arizona.

In Kashgar, the huge marble square that contains a giant statue of Chairman Mao at its center (Photo 3) presents the same axial character of his preferred urban mode of organization. This construction has not only transformed the urban form of Kashgar, but has disqualified another space that was a significant emblem of Uyghur culture: the large space in front of the famous Aitka Mosque. Previously located in the heart of the city, a bustling core with leather craftsmen, string instrument makers, booksellers and religious text vendors, the nucleus of the city has now been completely remodeled and the area surrounding the Mosque destroyed and rebuilt (Photo 4). The streets crowded with merchants have given way to an area that seems oddly out-of-scale. The Mosque is now a small, insignificant structure on the edge of a huge space that has been redeveloped with new commercial buildings. The monument has lost its meaning in the city.

And then there is the digital widescreen: a repetitive device, both marker and propagator of messages about Han culture. Within newly developed places, the remodeling of physical space has been has been completed with the creation of a new visual space and soundscape (Photo 5). Every evening, announcements of Chinese modernity are broadcast into this public place. These messages include everything from publicizing Chinese films to broadcasting the Long March’s épopé. In Kashgar, Urumqi, Turpan, and Hotien, the same device has been installed. The device’s occupation of public space leaves little room for the original urban culture of the sites.

In Kashgar, in the eyes of the Chinese urban planner, it seemed impossible to completely erase the old city. An important religious center of Sunni Islam, and also the center of the Sufi brotherhoods, a complete upheaval of the existing urban fabric would have likely solicited opposing acts of resistance in the major Uyghur cities. However, the need to contain the extension of the “indigenous” city was accomplished by opening a new path beyond which the Chinese city could develop. In Kashgar, this was done with the construction of the new Tuman Avenue, running along the north wall and blocking any extension of the Uyghur city with a bordering wall of new Chinese buildings (Photo 6).

Transformation of the old city centers. Since 2007, access of foreigners to the old town (Uyghur city) has been heavily restricted. You can enter only after having purchased a ticket from one of the four authorized departments established for this very purpose. As the city does not have an enclosure, young Uyghur girls are responsible for monitoring visitors’ tickets (Photo 7). A document given to the tourists reveals what is described as an “attraction”: “By visiting the Old Town you feel like you are in the Middle Ages. Here you can observe typical Uyghur folk customs…handicrafts such as carpet-making…You can visit a Uyghur family in their characteristic traditional home and sample traditional Uyghur food and culture. The colorful entertainment will offer you a lot of fun and give you a feeling of the mystery of the old town”. The writing on the entrance ticket reproduces some lyrics praising the delights of Xinjiang and Kashgar, borrowed from the “famous Chinese poet Guo Xiaochuan”.

Finally, in order to be presentable to foreign and Chinese tourists, this “Uyghur town” must be kept in a remarkable state of cleanliness. Older Uyghur women are employed to clean the streets during the daytime (Photo 8). Their clothes are the only touch of color that the groups of amused Chinese tourists and amateur photographers will see as typical and traditional activities of the eastern city have all been wiped out (bazaars, crafts, the historical neighborhood of booksellers and religious book vendors, a popular tourist destination in the past).

Burying History

Along with the urban transformation underway in Xinjiang cities, the adaptation of historical sites to conform to successful models of development in the tourist industry consumes a large amount of planning resources. This global phenomenon obviously extends well beyond the case of China. Here, like elsewhere, there is a corollary of the development of urban societies craving a story, narrative, or anchoring identity. The desire of urban modern societies for “Heritage” is the manifestation of this demand[8]. The following two examples support and complement the restructuring of Turfan as mentioned above.

Religious or civil Uyghur architecture, which remains a visible heritage of modern Xinjiang, presents an architectural form linked to Islam. Construction projects geared towards tourism in Xinjiang consist of superimposing “Chinese” architectural pastiches to the existing Islamic built environment.

The Imin Mosque in Turfan and its unique minaret: a “new story”. This architectural site was among the cotton fields east of the oasis, somewhat removed from the urban area (Photo 9). The new edifice built near the Imin Mosque is a masterful example of disfigurement and falsification. A sign for tourists says “Ancient Prefectural Residence Turpan”. However, the construction of this magnificent new building here is not based on archaeological research. With its color, form, and the care taken in its construction, this false building now rivals the Imin Mosque, which was recently “restored” (i.e. completely rebuilt). Thus, one of the most prestigious architectural monuments in Xinjiang is tragically severed from its interaction and conversation with its surrounding urban environment by a contemporary structure erected in 2003: “French” ponds in the desert, exotic plantations with “urban gardens”, concrete statues for fanciful pageants where tourists can take photographs, a big shopping area and a glazed car park for tourist buses.

Finally, the mosque is presented within a circular area, the combined result of excavations and a total remodeling of the site, with its symmetry set in accordance with ideals of “Chinese territory”. This cacophony, led by the famous Prefectural Residence, and the new development of the mosque, is a misuse of the history of this rich site; yet no visitor will be able to recognize this fraud. This place was once a representation of Uyghur architectural culture, but now, as a consequence of its remodeling, it has lost this important original value. The formerly prestigious mosque has been relegated to a small role in the fictitious scenography to warp and then correct the history of the place. The new building replaces Uyghur reality with a Chinese past on a formerly significant religious site. Other large-scale “improvement” projects are also underway on important archaeology sites at the Kizil caves, as well as at the necropolis of Astana. The site has been covered by other elements (concrete statues) and it culminates in the famous and beautiful caves and temple of Bézéklick. Just as Islam arrived and established its foundational bases on many sacred Buddhist sites, “something” is now colonizing, co-opting, and paving over the remains of original Uyghur culture. How can this “something” be described?

The site of Mazar of Toyuk (Photo 10). This village is about 30 kilometers from Turfan. Excluded from the tourist circuits until the early 2000s, a new road in the desert now provides guided tours access to this religious site. The recent rebuilding of this holy site for Muslims by the Chinese authorities is yet another example of the burying of original historic places by a contrived and fictitious history.

Editing of publications for the use of visitors. In recent years, many tourist books have been published and distributed on Buddhist Turkestan. They popularize the archaeological discoveries on the North and South roads, as well as the works and photographs of explorers who, in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, uncovered the rich history of Buddhism in the region (e.g. Regel, Grünwedel, Le Coq, Otani, Tachibana, Koichiro, Pelliot, Stein, Sven Hedin, etc.)[9] . It should be noted here that these “treasure hunters” have paid no attention to the historical evidence of Islamic architecture and heritage, even as they sought Buddhist relics in an Islamic land. In this light, we can understand how their research has now become quite valuable to the Chinese. The travels of Xuanzang, the famous Buddhist monk who left for India and brought back to China several infamous Buddhist sutras, has been continually updated, elaborated on, and publicized over the years. Descriptions of Buddhist sites are frequently relayed in his stories while any mention of Islamic traces is omitted. These methods contribute to the loss of Xinjiang’s Islamic heritage as amendments, adjustments and elisions are made in the name of promoting its Buddhist past to bolster tourism.

The recent decision of the Chinese government to make Kashgar the “Shenzhen of the West” by conferring on it the status of a Special Economic Zone will accelerate the completion of the spatial transformation described above. The remains of indigenous urban forms that previously existed in the oasis towns will likely be unable to resist the needs of these economic and commercial projects. In Hotien, Yarkand, and Turfan, a great architectural and urban culture is likely to disappear in silence in the face of global indifference—especially on the part of the architectural community—to its plight under Chinese modernity.

Notes

[1] Piper Rae Gaubatz, Beyond the Great Wall, Stanford University press, 1996.p 62.

[2] Jean-Paul Loubes, Architecture et urbanisme de Turfan, L’Harmattan, 1998.

[3] Amos Rapoport, Anthropologie de la maison, Dunod, 1961.

[4] About the Uighur origin and the origin of the ethnonym, see in : Cahiers du C.E.M.O.T.I N°25, 1998. Les Ouïgours au vingtième siècle, the articles of Françoise Aubin, Dru C.Gladney, Michel Jan, ArtoushKumul.

[5] The Kaogongji (part of the ritual of the Zhou minority) prescribed a mode of creation of the capital based on cosmological references implementing a regular geometry (axiality and a perfect square). Even if all cities do not meet these provisions, including topographical obstacles, this mode of creation, however, had a model value in terms of the capital’s establishment and the new implementation of cities.

[6] Paul Wheatley, The Pivot of the Four Quarters, Edinburgh University Press, 1971

[7] Jean-Paul Loubes, 1998 op cit.

[8] Françoise Choay, Le patrimoine en question, Seuil, 2009.

[9] Quotes: Shi Xiaoqi, « Footprints of foreign Explorers on the Silk Road », China Intercontinental Press, 2005.

[10] Peter Hopkirk, Bouddhas et rôdeurs sur la route de la soie, Arthaud, 1981.

Local governance and citizenship of migrant workers in China

Meeting with workers in Shanghai's suburb © Modu

Since the 1980s, migrant workers have become a special social category in the industrialization and urbanization process in China. This reflects a very specific social phenomenon in a country going through a transition from a planned economy to a market economy.

“New” urban citizens

In the face of an increasingly large number of rural migrant workers, the Chinese government’s position on the status of migrants appears to have changed several times over the last few years. They first saw the influx of rural populations as an “anarchical migration”. As a result, steps were then taken to transform this into an “orderly migration”. Still later, the government officially encouraged migrants to “return to their homeland and do business”.

A disconcerting fear may be behind these tumultuous policy shifts: the fear that migrant workers are detrimental to the order in the cities, and as such, should eventually be expelled from their temporary occupation of urban space. Such moral prejudices buttress the notion that rural migrants should not be able to benefit from the rights and social services allocated to urban citizens.

The philosophy that the state should develop to support the management of the population experienced a critical change around 2001. The government began to consider immigrant workers as members of urban society, and modified official discourse to convey that the arrival of people from the countryside to the city to work and do business significantly contributed to the modernization of the entire country. However, ten years later, this change in thinking and policy shift still does not provide migrants with many of the essential social services provided to urban residents in the cities where they came to work. Although their work environments, social conditions, and access to education have improved to a certain degree over the last decade, these migrants still do not consider themselves “citizens” in the city, in any sense of the word.

Obstacles to migrant citizenship and the role of local governments

In theories on the rights of citizens, the relationships between the State, society, and the market are conventionally taken up as the framework for analysis. However, in China’s particular political situation, the State may not be as centralized as many presume. Instead, China’s governmental system consists of various levels of local government. In other words, under the control of the central government, various levels of local government can be seen to have a certain amount of relative flexibility. In many cases, these local authorities have the leeway and the right to adapt policies emanating from the central government. As one widespread Chinese expression Chinese explains, “The central government establishes the policy, the local government unravels it”. This so-called “modification from lower levels” refers mainly to the fact that lower government levels can adopt various means to bypass the requests and policies conferred by higher levels. The methods used by local governments to avoid the controlling measures of the central government are numerous. They may also be the primary factors obstructing rural migrants’ access to urban social services and benefits.

There are three main methods local governments use to skirt central government dictates. The first is to emphasize the uniqueness of their situation. Cities such as Beijing, Shanghai and Guangzhou, for example, insist on the fact that their accommodation capacity is already saturated and they cannot accept any new residents. They argue they cannot grant access to new migrants for fear of not being able to regulate and manage the population within their borders. The second is to “remove the logs under the cauldron”. Local authorities may grant the formal status of “city resident” to migrant workers, but in reality, they create conditions that prevent these migrants from practically benefiting from the designation. This can take the form of point-reward systems, or more drastically, the demolition of purportedly “declining” or sub-standard schools which most often cater primarily to migrant workers and their children. The third is to divide migrants into several categories. In this latter instance, those dwelling in spaces under the jurisdiction of a local government will have access to urban citizenship rights, but others outside of this parameter will not.

Our research shows that local welfare, which is the priority of local government in China, is the primary crux for rural migrants gaining access to urban citizenship rights. Whether it’s local government, companies, urban inhabitants or social organizations, the improvement of local welfare is always identified as the priority. Utilizing this logic, if granting urban citizenship to migrant workers is seen as improving local welfare, the issue of securing their rights may be more easily resolved. Otherwise, even if the central government promulgates policies to achieve equal rights between urban and migrant workers, local governments will not apply them, and will set up obstacles against the implementation of these policies rather than considering the universality of civil rights and access to citizenship.

798: Arts in the City

Mural fresco in the 798 art centre © Modu
Old gas factories at night © Modu
View from the bridge © Modu
Workers on their lunch break in 798 © Modu
Map of 751 D-Park, east of 798 © Modu
Souvenir shop © Modu
One of the snack sellers of 798 © Modu
From a new footbridge © Modu
The new footbridge © Modu
Footbridge along one of the new building in 798 © Modu
View on some of the 798 factories still working © Modu

I interviewed artists, gallery owners, and those who work at this place, and I really paid attention to what happens daily. The 798 centre attracts a wide audience: foreign tourists as well as the inhabitants of Beijing, individuals or groups from different provinces. Today, this site is listed in tourist brochures along with Beijing’s traditional great sites (the Forbidden City, the Great Wall, etc).

Obviously, the district went through a large expansion; it was a peripheral zone for a long time, and was enhanced and has been given value by the presence of this art city. Other places emerged around the 798 art district where artists have set up their workshops and one can visit contemporary art galleries. New buildings have also been built, making the neighbourhood a fashionable area. Consequently though, prices are rising. From an urban point of view, the presence of the artists allowed investors to make excellent real estate deals.

Factory spirit and contemporary art

My first observation is that this phenomenon is comparable to other similar projects in large metropolises. Soho is often mentioned when talking about 798, but projects of urban expansion related to the recovery of industrial brownfields by the contemporary arts are also found. In recent years in Paris, encouraged by the state, the 104, a former warehouse for a cemetery plot in the northern district of Paris, underwent a similar process. In Buenos Aires, where I currently live, cultural projects have reinvested in old factories that were shut down after the 2001 crisis.

It could be said that 798 is a typical product of globalization, based on a process that synergizes designers, market operators of national and international art, decision makers and developers. What adds to the prestige of 798 is not only the role it plays in the cultural life of Beijing, but also its openness to new forms of creation worldwide. Should the phenomenon be limited to its “global” level? Is it enough to say that 798 is a Chinese Soho, and that it will have the same fate as this American counterpart?

798, a unique case

My second observation is that 798 and, more broadly, this kind of initiative in China, has a real specificity. First, the factory is not entirely abandoned or in disuse. When the artists arrived, they were confronting factory workers who had not left. The Seven Stars industrial company owns it, and the inhabitants are only tenants. Second, unlike projects such as 104, it was originally a spontaneous initiative. As the case years ago with the East Village, artists who came to 798 were doomed to a certain marginality. They chose the place for aesthetic (Bauhaus architecture), and economic (low rents) reasons, and, to some extent, political reasons (the possibility to create a community within the city). Rapidly, the 798 centre became a place of tension, and the crisis in 2004 during the 1st DIAF, revealed these tensions. Since then, there has been a process of normalization with the creation of the Dashanzi Art District, the management of infrastructure rehabilitation by the authorities, and the implementation and acceptance of the concept of “creative industry”.

Pioneers fall victim to their success

I would like to add that the contemporary artists there have transformed the identity of the neighbourhood by giving a new meaning to the place. My hypothesis is that 798 has since the beginning been associated with a strong project, and the ambition has been realized. In the 50s, it was an example of a factory model and a communist utopia. Today, it represents the utopia of the market: it’s a place where we consume, where we have fun and where we encounter big brands that, by sponsoring the art performances, discover new possibilities to connect with new audiences. The designers, who have unconsciously worked towards art’s commercialization, have allowed developers, gallery owners, and all categories of people here to maximize profits. At the same time, they have not only permitted the preservation of a unique industrial site, but also its rediscovery by a wider audience. Today, most of the pioneers of 798 live and work elsewhere: the rising rents and permanent presence of visitors has led to expropriation, which has been more or less voluntary. They are again marginalized in a way, even if some of them have also themselves profited in this context.

Artistic conformism but urban dynamism

What seems important to me after a decade marked by the entry of China into the world market and the extraordinary development experienced by contemporary art in this big country is to think about this new situation. Initiatives like 798 continue to emerge, but they are now part of an economic and political landscape labelled by the presence of interests that can be, at the same time, complementary and contradictory. For example, once the artists increase the attractiveness of their neighbourhoods, developers do not hesitate to demolish the houses of these artists for purely speculative reasons. Another issue is the compromise that may or may not be established between a project of “creative industry” and the specific vocation of the creators. Ultimately, isn’t there a risk of developing a kind of contemporary art where conformism would be far more visible than marginal initiatives, which would, however, be more likely to renew today’s Chinese art scene? What is certain is that we are in a period of dynamism and a boiling point where art contributes to reconfiguring urban forms and carries with it new challenges for citizens.

For more details see: Conference of Marc Abélès (13 min)

The Visual Space of 798 Art District

Construction of 798 assembly plant in 1954 © Thinking Hands
The vice Prime Minister Bo Yibo cutting the tape during the plant's opening ceremony in 1957 © Thinking Hands
A former employee working in 1959 © Thinking Hands
1961: The General Secretary of the Chinese Communist Party and the vice Prime Minister Deng Xiaoping at 798 assembly plant © Thinking Hands
Poet Shi Zhi reciting verses at Transborder Language Festival. Photo from Lao San, 2003 © Thinking Hands
New Spirit of Chinese History by Huang Rui at Transborder Language Festival. Photo from Lu Yi, 2003 © Thinking Hands
Yin Xiuzhen's installation for Left Hand, Right Hand exhibition. Photo from Li Wei, 2003 © Thinking Hands
South area of 798 art district. Photo from Ren Shulin, 2004 © Thinking Hands
Huang Rui's musical table-tennis. Photo from Lu Yi, 2004 © Thinking Hands
Huang Rui serving tea at South Gate Space. Photo from Lu Yi, 2006 © Thinking Hands
Visitors at Left Hand, Right Hand's exhibition. Photo from Katharina Hesse, 2003 © Thinking Hands
Wu Xiaojun’s work gave to 706 space in 2006, Courtesy Wu Xiaojun © Thinking Hands
European Commission's President José Manuel Barroso talking with artists at 798 art district © Thinking Hands

There are two kinds of visual space; the first is space that exists in reality, and the second is imagined space. Anyone can see real visual space; some people see the objects in the space, while others see the structure of the space. Usually, space is not worth viewing for both its contents and structure, and the average person does not see anything unless there is some perceived value outside the visual.

The visual space of imagination

Artists must master the observation and representation of visual space. Using the most basic methods, two-dimensional artists sketch scenes onto flat planes. Sculptors mold materials into forms that add spatial tensions to an artwork. Conceptual artists can use a variety of dislocating methods to reflect visual forms, but the kind of visual space represented is determined by the artist’s personality, experience, and aptitude.

The second kind of visual space exists neither in reality nor in visual experience, but in the imagination. Imagined visual spaces transcend space, time, and all boundaries. However, many notable artists and novelists of the past have shown that space can be visible. Imagined visual space must transcend existence, otherwise these spaces cannot freely interact.
I moved into the 798, which was an old assembly plant in the 1950s, almost exactly ten years ago today. As such, I see the 798 from a rather unique perspective. However, I was unable to stay there because the visual imagination is transient and unwilling to set foot in real space. I simply remember that my imagination began with the recognizable history of space in the 798.

798 language

The 798 is located within a rapidly-changing urban environment. The period around the Olympics, from 2006 to 2009, was a test, and the gradual marketization of China’s economy presented an even deeper challenge to the 798. In addition, the 798 was influenced daily by shifts in national policy, tensions and relaxations in international relations, transformations in urban political systems, personnel changes among planners and mangers, cultural and artistic tastes, alternating trends, the relationships between professionals, collectors, and visitors, standards of interaction, psychological support, official will and planning, work targets, management styles, rules, regulations, and the sources and movements of capital. All of these factors combine in the unique environment that is the 798. Every situation has a unique complexity, thus, if we only summarize the 798 from one perspective, I fear that we will not accurately arrive at the language of the 798.

In 2007, I looked for answers to the changes and issues produced by 798’s past and present. I maintained an open dialogue with people in a wide range of disciplines, even if their various answers left much to be desired. The 798 has been rapidly commercialized, and I think that its superficial prosperity actually impacts its quality. The 798 has been greatly influenced by market factors, exhibition conditions, and common tastes. In this environment, it is difficult to recreate the high-quality experimental exhibitions that shocked the world and previously attracted world-class researchers and collectors to the 798.

Today no one opposes protecting the 798. What was intensely debated in the past has now become fixed policy. However, in the 798 and its surrounding urban environment, development takes priority over preservation and planning, while implementation focuses more on development. We can say that the 798 Art District is still developing, but that development must take place within the framework of preservation and respect for the context that made the 798. Its inherited industrial architecture needs preservation, but the organizations that renew historical architecture within a cultural context are even more deserving of preservation. The latter issue has never formally posed a problem because it is unrelated to the benefits of short-term development.

Where are the artists?

The 798 has many resources, some of which are obvious, such as its Bauhaus industrial architecture and its domestic and international fame. The 798 is also home to the richness of the Ullens Center for Contemporary Art, the Iberia Center for Contemporary Art, Pace Gallery, and hundreds of other art institutions, galleries, coffee shops, bookstores, and gift shops. These can all be classified as “hard resources”, but this art district also has “soft resources”, such as the dozens of artists that once worked here, regular exhibitions (see the poster of Reconstruction 798’s exhibition designed by Wang Chao) and annual and seasonal art festivals, events, and performances. When large-scale exhibitions and art fairs open, many important international curators, critics, collectors, and artists come to visit the 798.

What is the primary driver behind the 798? The simplest answer is that the 798 continuously displays the free creative abilities of international capital. As a result of these abilities, ideas are communicated to an international audience, urban economic communities have an audience and focus to direct their excitement towards, and the economic realm is given the opportunity to utilize and capitalize on contemporary art. The 798 has also provided a place for the enlightenment and education of local contemporary art. Here, local art is packaged by galleries and provided to the market, popular market trends and consumption channels combine, and cultural products are consumed.

Creativity is rooted in human resources, which are the most important drivers of the 798’s continued development. Urban managers only see wave after wave of humanity, but another human resource cannot be seen and perhaps it will disappear if we no longer discuss the origins of the art district.

Why stay in town?

The commercial village Solana in Beijing © Modu
The cafe-library "One Way Street" in Joy City commercial center in Beijing © Modu
The cafe-library "One Way Street" in Joy City commercial center in Beijing © Modu
The cafe-library "One Way Street" in Joy City commercial center in Beijing © Modu
The cafe-library "One Way Street" in Joy City commercial center in Beijing © Modu
The café-library "One Way Street" in Solana © Modu
The cafe-library "One Way Street" in the former Summer Palace © Modu
Front of the first "One Way Street" Library located inside the former Summer Palace in Beijing. The building has been demolished since then © Modu

One Way Street bookstore was founded by thirteen young journalists, some of them quite famous, who fundraised to secure financial support for its opening. The official opening took place on January 1st, 2006 in the Old Summer Palace, Yuanmingyuan. Their goals were very clear and simple: to build a tiny public space through books, debates, images and ideas; to give readers, especially young readers, a common platform to explore and answer their questions. Since its opening, One Way Street has put all of its efforts into raising the quality of its reading recommendations and has opened a free cultural show. It has quickly become a key location for cultural life. In October 2009, One Way Street moved to the Solana commercial center, where the library continued to be a refreshing and respected voice in the life of the Chinese public. In October 2012, the library opened in Chaoyang Joy City Commercial Center. This is not just a library, it is also a café, a publishing house, and a place for cultural shows. The original Yuanmingyuan’s One Way Street still exists in the memories of its regular visitors. Further, the project has allowed its owners to engage in a variety of other equally engaging and exciting endeavors.

Unilateral Trajectories: From the countryside to the city, from the street to the café

The history of the “One Way Street” café-bookstore is a particularly good illustration of urban inertia in China. After moving three times in six years, we could almost speak of the business as a laboratory of roaming ideas. The place actually fits with the rapid changes occurring in the capital, staying in contact with the urban and social reality of many readers of The Beijinger’s, a premier expat lifestyle and news website based in Beijing. At a conference addressing the question “Why stay in town?”, in conjunction with the project “Alternative City”, Qin Liwen retells the journey of this unique coffee shop throughout the city and the importance of such places in China’s capital.

The “One Way Street Library” café-bookstore (“单向街图书馆”) is close to 798, between the Solana Commercial Center and Chaoyang Park. This is not the place we originally chose. At first, we were inside a traditional house in Yuanmingyuan; we were hiding in a very large house at the east gate of the park. In this several hundred square-meter space, there were very large trees, and an architect had made it a very beautiful place.

Unfortunately, after two years, we realized that we were losing money because this beautiful place had a bad location and was difficult to find. Our customers were mostly students from the neighboring universities whose resources were limited. Even if we wanted to make our library a philanthropic project, we could not continue. That is why we finally decided to move to the East. Since each of the ten shareholders of the bookstore were investing a part of their salary and all of us were working in this part of town, after careful overall reflection, we decided to move the library to Solana. We were and still are the first café-bookstore in Solana.

Urban inertia

It seems important to me to ask the question: “Why stay in the city?” Where does one start? Many Chinese people of our generation have spent part of their childhood in the countryside. I, for instance, grew up in the countryside. Then my parents and many people of their generation moved one after another to the city. It is now very difficult for our generation to return to the countryside, as the attraction of the countryside has disappeared. It has become a place full of trash, polluted, where rights are constantly violated. Under these conditions, we can’t return to these rural areas, so consequently, there is no real choice.

Just as the name of our library suggests (One Way Street Library), the urbanization of China is a unilateral process; there is no other possibility than to go from the countryside to the city. When you grew up in the countryside, the best choice was to send your children to the city because social and education systems were better there. The parents, who cannot benefit from these social improvements, hope that through their efforts, their children will become citizens and obtain the fundamental privileges of modern individuals in contemporary society.

Why this desire to live downtown? In fact, there aren’t many other possibilities. Some people do settle in tourist destinations such as Lijiang, or purchase one or several houses in the countryside and stay there from time to time, but these areas are unstable. Many of my friends who made this choice told me that their house had been quickly destroyed or confiscated, and that they had therefore been forced to return to the city. That is why in China, there is no other choice but to live in the city. It has become a necessity.

Public space and freedom

How do we adapt to city life? At present, the most difficult problem in China’s urban society is individualism. We do not really have a collective space. Our space is monitored, manipulated and observed. It is completely under a pervasive power. Of course some people claim that there are lots of freedoms in China, especially if we compare the current situation with the past, 30 years ago.

There are even people affirming that we have more freedom than Westerners, because here, you can threaten to kill someone without the police coming to arrest you for just saying it. But it is a very strange kind of freedom, both very excessive and extremely limited. It’s not the kind of freedom we need. What we need is the freedom that allows normal people to define the standards of common good in a modern society, the kind that allows a conversation or a discussion to begin. In short, we need to recover a kind of normalcy. This is what our modern society hopes to find, because in the actual state of things, power is everywhere and in order to find these natural situations, one has to go through extraordinary difficulties.

The Cafe, a laboratory for ideas

In regards to new urban space and new perspectives, what our library does today is not new, but when we started, it was considered advanced. Coffee shops appeared in Turkey in the 16th century and came to Europe, and from there to North America. The first café in North America was created by a Puritan. If the café was so successful when it started in Turkey, it is because Turkey, like China, was an Eastern empire where the hierarchy was very strict: one had to bow when meeting an old man in the street.

In a coffee shop, these rules are abolished. Whether you are a merchant, a nobleman or a government officer, you are all sitting in the same place, and there is no need to bow to anyone. This equality is obviously very significant and that is why everyone wanted to go to the coffee shops. Europe followed this trend at a time when they were beginning to rediscover democracy and direct experiments in this field.

All kinds of new thinking and novel discussions took place in European coffee shops. They were the laboratories of new ideologies. As a matter of fact, this kind of coffee shop existed in China before the foundation of New China, but their prominence decreased abruptly. It was only in the 1980s that they reappeared. It was a particularly fertile period. No doubt, for most of you they’re not that new, but the most famous of them was the Sanwei library, which was at the forefront of this movement and which we all tried to imitate in our own way. After the reform and the opening, almost all influential people in a variety of diverse fields of thought gave lectures in the Sanwei library, engaging in genuine dialogues and real confrontations. What we do in our library cannot be compared to Sanwei. There are other places like ours, or like the Wansheng library or the Caihuoche library, the latter being more about art and literature. What we’re trying to do is invite influential people in the world of culture to give lectures and have discussions with the public, but the enthusiasm of these meetings and their potential impact are far from those of the 1980s, because the interests of our times are trade and private interests, particularly since the late 1990s.

The emergence of a civic debate

We founded the One Way Street Library in 2006, but it was only in 2008 that we felt a big change. 2008 was a huge turning point for the country, being deeply affected by the Olympics and the earthquake in Sichuan. Since then, our interests have shifted from trade to deeper topics like public space and politics. I feel that even the vegetable street-vendor or the small merchant is starting to be aware that politics is something directly related to them, and they are starting to discuss it. What we do at One Way Street library is pick up the thread of an interrupted discussion with a greater freedom of expression. It’s not only about politics, but we try to have a comprehensive view. Actually, it is just about politics, because simply discussing power shifts is discussing politics: politics is a very complex, multi-dimensional subject which includes culture, history, personal experiences, different conceptions of policies inherited from education, individual rights, etc.

All these things need to be explored in a multidimensional space to give people hope, because if we continue on the current path, we will come to the realization that there is no hope because this route is not sufficient. Everyone, in all layers of society, can agree with that. This problem is subject to Chinese consensus. Is a small library, a very small bookstore growing like a mushroom from a popular initiative and not out of the desire of a higher power, able to bring hope and new opportunities? We do not know. In the case of our library, if rents rise dramatically, we will be forced to move to a more remote place. But I’m sure this kind of initiative will continue. Even old ideas are renewed during each era. Our efforts to encourage more and more people to participate in and be aware of power structures in order to change things are part of the positive reasons why we live in the city.

Urbanism and cyber contestations in China

The Chinese Web © Ogilvy

The number of Chinese web users reached 505 million in November 2012, representing a diffusion rate of 37.7%. While various international social networks such as Youtube, Twitter, Flickr and Facebook are banned, there are also Chinese equivalents: Weibo, Renren, Douban, Youku (see image on top).

However, Chinese internet users play with censorship and invest in the blogosphere and other social networks of the web era 2.0[1], including various news forums of public opinion and protest[2]. With more than 300 million users, microblogs are the primary source of information for these users. Here, different stories regularly make a buzz, forcing authorities to react. From this perspective, problems associated with the rapid urbanization of the country are among the primary issues that cause internet users to mobilize. In 2011 and 2012, the village of Wukan was a good example of local disputes which went on to gain national and international prominence as the result of social media.

Available resources

Michel Offerlé[3] , a French political scientist, distinguishes three main categories of resources available to social movements. Firstly the number, that is to say the ability, to mobilize large workforces. Secondly, there is expertise, depending on the skills of group members and/or their ability to mobilize competent individuals to influence others and facilitate persuasion. Finally, the use of scandal to report on a situation and heighten public awareness on the issues. The participatory dimension of the web 2.0 makes it easy to build on these three resources. More clearly, the web 2.0 allows the internet user to interact and identify with a community.

The networking of web users allows the broadcasting and collection of information on unprecedentedly large scales. Yet in addition, it also critically enables the creation of an alternative expertise that shapes public opinion by forcing official media to also mobilize and respond. The government has also realized the importance of responding to such viral initiatives and reactions by providing more information or officially justifying its actions in order to prevent the spread of rumours or panic. At times, the reactions and mobilizations of the online community have even led to the modification or adjustment of urban policies. As such, today urban policies can be seen as also under the supervision of an array of netizens who may dispute their merits. With the development of these forms of cyber-mobilization, one may wonder about what these new tools contribute by questioning the shape, purpose and efficiency of these challenges, particularly with respect to the collaborative aspect of these urban social movements (see schema inspired by the work of Michel Offerlé, Sociology of interest groups, Paris, Montchrestien, 1996).

In recent years, various events have led to the establishment of participatory websites encouraging Internet users to submit information or photos with the goal of denouncing and criticizing current urban policies. Through a large number of contributors, these collaborative platforms are based on a kind of civilian ‘scandal reporting’, but also focus on the development of an alternative expertise that constitutes a counter-power. In mainland China, these mobilization efforts include concerns around the violence of real estate developments, while in Hong Kong environmental issues are also quite prominent

Real estate

Netizens often firstly chose to use these scandal resources by publicizing shocking events. In the spring of 2007, the “nail house” of Chongqing, the lone surviving property holding out amidst a sprawling real estate development project, gained international fame after it was posted by blogger “Zola”. Ultimately, because of this widespread media coverage, the owner received an even better compensation. In China and beyond, the story also shed light on the violent evictions of modest inhabitants to make room for massive building complexes, often constructed for purposes of real estate speculation.

In 2010, an anonymous internet user with the pseudonym Xuefangditu, literally “bloody real estate map”[4], chose to list all violent evictions related to real estate projects in the country. The blogger aimed to denounce China’s rapid urbanization for destroying lives and hoped to launch a protest movement against these new housing developments.

The map (see sources) was published on October 8, 2010 and on the 20th of the same month, Xinhua news agency dedicated an article to the topic. One week later, dozens of different Chinese media outlets were discussing the issue. At the end of December 2010, a Goggle search of the phrase “bloody map” elicited more than 1,640,000 results. According to statistics from Baidu, China’s premier search engine, the Chinese were even more interested in this map than national sensation Li Yuchun, who had dominated headlines in previous weeks as the celebrated winner of a reality TV program.

The blog uses Google Maps and, based on Wikipedia, calls for the participation of internet users to collect, upload, verify, and discuss information. Users can zoom in on the map and find the exact location of each incident. A small icon also represents the nature of the event: a hospital bed for death, a flame for immolation by fire, or a volcano for an important event. The question mark indicates that information has not yet been verified.

In addition to the scandal reporting primarily featured on blogs, this collaborative map relies on the reports, will, and diligence of users to maintain relevance. The map has the potential to become a significant tool for monitoring and evaluating the Chinese government’s urban policies. It may further become a critical reference for those looking to make ethical choices when it comes to the location of their residence.

Different events are reported, such as the self-immolation of Tang Fuzhen in November 2009. After a long opposition against the demolition of her house in the outskirts of Chengdu, this 47-year-old woman doused herself with gasoline and, standing on the rooftop of her home while a demolition crew entered the house and beat her sister and her husband, immolated herself. Tragically, she died in the hospital two weeks later. A video of the suicide recorded on a mobile phone was made widely available on the web, and was eventually even broadcast on CCTV. The incident has affected public opinion by raising awareness of the abuses of forced evictions and their relationship to the urbanization and development of the country.

Pollution

The Institute of Public Environmental Affairs (IPE), a local Chinese environmental protection NGO, was created in 2006 by Ma Jun. Ma gained notoriety in the 1990s by producing documentary films that investigated the environmental degradation of Hong Kong for the South China Morning Post. From his field experience, he published a book in 1999 entitled, Water crisis in China: a work now widely recognized as a milestone by China’s environmental protection community for the awareness it raised across the country.

The IPE has recently developed a map that represents various forms of pollution. The map is intended to be used to evaluate environmental status through the identification and surveillance of major pollutants. This information platform is the result of a collection of more than 97,000 different sources, mainly data from different levels of government, and includes reads of water pollution, air quality, and the release of various other hazardous pollutants. Users can click on their own region to display all available public data on water quality and the name of the polluting factories or companies.

Through this monitoring, IPE hopes to facilitate information transparency and to mobilize various stakeholders in environmental governance: individuals, civil society groups, private companies, and various levels of government. Another objective is to encourage buyers, especially multinationals, to choose their suppliers based on their lawful and wholesome environmental practices.

From the same perspective, the work of the photographer Wang Jiuliang is also interesting. Using Google Earth (see source and a screenshot), he maps garbage dumps around Beijing, highlighting the significance of a capital of 18 million people that produces 18,000 tons of waste per day.

Citizenship

The administrative region of Hong Kong offers somewhat of a contrast, with only 30% of the urbanized area characterized by skyscrapers and high density. On the other hand, 70% of the Hong Kong’s territory is still natural, with 40% protected by the government. However, given the vastness of the territory, the resources of the administration appear to be rather ill-equipped, limited, and at times poorly coordinated, with only a few hundred employees across three different departments. In addition, fines and penalties imposed on offenders are quite low. A kind of impunity has thus emerged for developers, who often also have significant connections within the governing bodies. As a result, 93% of the 20,485 cases of illegal occupations of natural areas between 2005 and 2009 were exposed by public complaints.

The South China Morning Post, a reputable Hong Kong English newspaper, has launched an initiative that utilizes the Kenyan technology Ushaihidi[5] to highlight environmental violations reported by citizens as a part of an interactive website. The project calls for environmental citizenship, love of nature, and social responsibility amongst the people of Hong Kong. The site motto succinctly summarizes their approach: “For Hong Kong by Hong Kong”.

The need for such a tool arises from an increasing awareness of the growing number of environmental violations in Hong Kong. These include illegal waste dumping, as well as illegal construction in protected zones that result in deforestation. In 2010, the main environmental controversy involved the destruction of a part of the natural landscape of Tai Long Sai Wan in Sai Kung. The businessman Simon Lo Lin-Shing wanted to build an impressive villa here, with a swimming pool, tennis courts, organic gardens and artificial ponds. The press then revealed that the project was situated within an archaeological site while environmentalists pointed out that the foundation’s work and truck traffic within protected zones had already caused serious environmental damage. The government has since then responded by issuing a three-year moratorium on the project.

In the face of these developments, The Citizen Map (see screenshot) offers an informational tool to verify and to publicize these issues, in an attempt to influence the political agenda of the government. After a week, 20 events were reported. In January 2011, there were nearly 120. Today, the Citizen map is limited to environmental issues, but creators recently announced in an official statement that, in the future, it may expand to include other themes.

The Citizen map offers Hong Kong residents an opportunity to actively support the strengthening of civil society by acting as a steward of nature. It further enables citizens to keep an eye on the government and the too-friendly relationships that could develop between wealthy economic elites.

Towards a collaborative urbanism

In comparison with the urban struggles of the 1960s and 1970s in Western countries, the nature of engagement and activism has significantly evolved with the use of digital mediums. While the internet seems to easily accommodate the expression of various urban social movements, new social networks are transformed into forums for public debate, offering a form of virtual public space.

Virtual platforms make it possible to bypass police controls encountered in public space (in mainland China but not in Hong Kong). On the other hand, the internet connects citizens, gathers information, and spreads key themes. Compared with traditional urban struggles, this protest 2.0 brings together a large number of people in a shorter period of time, gives greater significance to events, and reveals unpublished expert capabilities that appear through the participatory processes. The internet then reveals urban social movements with a more flexible hierarchy and a collective type of organization, giving way to more individual forms of engagement, and thus offering new horizons of engagement by facilitating a collective intelligence.

However, the objectives of these mobilizations remain the same. Chinese activists of the digital era are fighting like their Western predecessors of the 1960s and 1970s against the destruction of old neighbourhoods and forced expulsions, and generally, for the development of a city that does not exclude the marginal. Evoking the “right to the city”, they proclaim an alliance with the radical goals of urban theorist Henri Lefebvre[6]. Hong Kong activists add another dimension to this struggle by diversifying the purposes of the mobilization. In these new social movements, the demands are not only materialistic, but have also become post-materialistic, as demonstrated by the Citizen Map.

Beyond the scenes of conflict that mobilize these netizens, their demands constitute a denunciation of the current practices of urban planning and manufacturing processes of the city. This raises the question of a collaborative turning point in urban planning. It remains to be seen whether these urban social movements will help the emergence of alternative forms of leadership and rebound in physical public space to truly influence the course of urban political agendas. Time will tell whether this protest 2.0 carries forward a new urban planning practice, one that might be more collaborative, sustainable, and inclusive.

Notes

[1] Concept proposed by Tim O’Reilly in 2005; this concept emphasizes the transition to a participatory web. The internet corresponds then to a collective intelligence where each user is part of a social network.

[2] Pierre Haski, The Internet and China, Paris, Seuil, 2008; Guobin Yang, The Power of the Internet in China: Citizen Activism Online, NYC, Columbia University Press, 2009; Zixue Tai, The Internet in China: Cyberspace and Civil Society, NYC, Routledge, 2006; Hesmès No. 55, « Civil Society and the Internet in China and East Asia », 2010; SéverineArsène, « Online discussions in China », in Chinese Perspectives, No. 2008/2, 2008, p. 88-99; Douay N., 2011, « Urbanism and Chinese netizens, the protest 2.0 is preparing » in Chinese Perspectives, Hong Kong, French Centre for Research on Contemporary China, No. 2011/1, pp.86-88; Severo M., T. Giraud, & N. Douay, 2012, The Revolt of Wukan seen by the international media in Geomedia, Dossier No. 3, CIST.

[3] Michel Offerlé, Sociology of interest groups, Paris, Montchrestien, 1996.

[4] Douay N., Severo M. & Giraud T., 2012, « The map of blood of Chinese real estate, a cyber-activism case » in Geographic Information (in French), Douay N. & M. Prévot (dir.), « Urban activism: engagement and militancy », Armand Colin, Paris, Vol. 76, No. 1, pp. 74-88 (in French).

[5] Ushaihidi is a Google Map mash-up that allowed Kenyans to report and trace violence through SMS on mobile phones in the days following the 2008 elections. This technology has now progressively evolved, its uses diversifying in other countries.

[6] Henri Lefebvre, The Right to the City, Paris, Anthropos, 1968.

Shanghai Corniche Park

In China today, property developers have largely acquired a rather negative public image. In 2011 and 2012, we toured the Shanghai Corniche Park with a group of architecture students. Upon observing the quality of development there, we were prompted to meet the project developer, Shanghai Longhua Construction Development Co., Ltd.

Urban regeneration in the heart of the city

Shanghai Corniche / 龙华滨江 is a 4 km-long park built on the western banks of the Huangpu River, just opposite to the site of the World Expo. This international event in 2010 saw the revival of the old docks of Beipiao and of industrial zone number 6 in Xuhui district, southwest of Shanghai. Today’s Shanghai Corniche park is a green belt with a low population density, a public space dedicated to walks and leisure, seemingly meeting the objective of the district’s master plan to produce spaces based on the priorities of being “people-oriented, green, [and] health[ful]”.

Shanghai Corniche Park is part of a regeneration project along 8.4 km on the shoreline of the Huangpu, on the Puxi side. Adopted in 2003, the program includes a new business center (CBD), commercial areas, accommodations and public spaces. It aims at de-industrializing and beautifying the area, rehabilitating flora and fauna, and transforming industrial banks into public spaces. To redevelop the area, Shanghai’s municipal government organized an international competition. British agency PDRc, led by architect Peter Verity and associated with EDSA, was the international urban planning and arrangements agency that won this competition. The project lasted 7 years with its term coinciding with the opening of the Expo in May 2010.

A contemporary space with the traces of an industrial legacy

Designers have long preserved and integrated existing urban features and legacies – railways, old locomotives, industrial remnants, outdated technologies, repurposed objects etc., by associating them with modern facilities. In Shanghai, the choice to preserve and value industrial heritage rather than opt for a complete upheaval of the area has engendered a modern park where traces of the district’s urban history and the industrial aesthetic – a massive crane, painted bright red – can still be seen.

In Shanghai Corniche, the developers and designers have made an intelligent and pleasant public space for pedestrians. Here, visitors can enjoy views of the water and new interactive activities. For example, a wall supporting a footbridge has been transformed into a climbing wall, and a free bicycle service is offered around the park.

An Interview with the Developers of Shanghai Corniche Park

In an interview conducted by Modu with a representative of the company Shanghai Longhua Construction Development Co., Ltd., Ms. Zhang Hui discusses the Shanghai Corniche project. Here, she emphasizes a crucial lack: the absence of opinions from urban “producers” during architectural debates. Yet, she notes, it is precisely these producers that are dealing directly with the reality on site. They are the ones with real knowledge about the field and work mechanisms between various actors, and each step of the project, their expertise even exceeding the research of one of the project’s institutes. The level of education and information available to Chinese developers today is far more advanced and comprehensive than it used to be, leading to the creation and construction of well-informed, high-quality facilities and spaces.

Modu: In what context was the Shanghai Corniche project conceived?

Zhang Hui: Major manifestations and international events like the Shanghai World Expo had a major role: they are a source of urban regeneration, and a will to modernize and internationalize, enabling us to intensify the investments of the government in the construction of new infrastructure, buildings and public spaces.

Modu: What is the role of the client in the implementation of the project, and what are the factors that determine the success of the project?

Zhang Hui: Before the project arrives in the hands of the architect, we define the various functions of the park according to our designs and ideas. Our team consists of people trained in urban planning and/or architecture. We are young and interested in new ideas that we would like to implement and achieve in China. Our director is relatively open, and in the case of the Shanghai Corniche Park or other restructuring projects, he says, “Why not do a quality project?”, and then decided to choose a foreign architect. The fact that our team is trained in urban planning and architecture issues allows us to understand the views and wishes of the architect. Having a good team is critical for the implementation of a project. As a developer, we need to choose the right designers. This decision is crucial to achieve a quality project. Specifically, today, local governments are more open to new projects, and teams of developers are better trained in conceptual issues. The ideas on local urban development have matured and improved compared with before.

Modu: What were the impacts of the opening of Shanghai Corniche Park in its neighborhood?

Zhang Hui: I saw very positive effects after the opening of the Shanghai Corniche, which convinces me that the locals had a real need for public space. Before the implementation of this project, they were not even aware that the Huangpu River crossed Xuhui District: industrial buildings marched along the riverbanks and completely hid it.. Today, in summer time, Shanghai Corniche attracts 10 to 20 thousand people every evening. The park also had an effect on the property price per square meter in the area. There are two groups of new housing near the bridge – Shanghai and Baihuiyan Bay: the works were completed before the end of the project. They were then sold for 10,000 yuan/m². After the park opened, the average price reached 60,000 yuan/m². In addition, the investment of the municipality has helped raise the price of land in the neighborhoods, lands that they might want to sell in the future.

Modu: How was the choice of the site’s landscape made?

Zhang Hui: Several considerations were taken into account, which combine aesthetic and practical principles. For example, along the river, we decided to plant plane trees. We drew inspiration from the trees which have adorned the streets in the old French Concession in Shanghai for more than a century now. We liked their seasonal foliage: plane trees are very leafy in summer and offer shade to walkers. In the winter, however, they lose all their leaves, bringing maximum brightness to the park.

Modu: During construction, what interactions are there between architects, developers and contractors?

Zhang Hui: As a developer, for any problems we encounter during the site work, we are asked to comply with the architect’s plan as much as possible. For all minor problems, 50% of them are settled after consultations between the contractors and designers, and the latter often agree to the modifications. 10 to 20% of the planned project is in fact impossible to implement. As such, we have to concede to some changes and then consider solutions given by the contractors. During the building, the project owner is an intermediary and a facilitator between the different stakeholders. On completion of the project, designers are often not satisfied with the outcome: they would prefer us to follow the plans exactly, but we always have to adapt to the field.

Modu: In your opinion, which other developers are implementing interesting strategies?

Zhang Hui: We often paint all promoters with the same brush, yet they are not the same. Each team and each company has a different level of knowledge and education. I often meet with colleagues as well as with a project management team in China to discuss achievements and new development. Several private developers have caught my attention with the quality of their projects. I could mention Green land group 绿地集团(Shanghai), Sun Hung Kai Properties 新鸿基地产 (Hong Kong), Swire Properties Limited 太古地产有限公司(Hong Kong), Overseas Chinese Town (OCT) 华侨城地产 (Shenzhen), or Shanghai Industrial Investment (Holding) Co., Ltd. (“SIIC”) 上海实业（集团）有限公司 (Shanghai).

In China, a new cast of pivotal Urban Actors

As part of the inaugural conference Alternative City: New spaces – New Perspectives, held on April 15, 2012 at the UCCA (798), Jérémie Descamps underlines the links between top actors and those emerging in the Chinese urban sphere, and the direct or indirect impacts of their practices on the quality of new urban development and existing Chinese cities. Based on examples culled from his work in architecture, urban development and landscape projects, and his experiences visiting several locales, Descamps explains, from the actions or initiatives of six major groups of actors, major achievements in improving the quality of urban life in China, and what would be, according to him, aspects that now need to be strengthened and improved.

The idea of an “alternative city” seems to be rather subjective: anyone can make it his or her own and approach it according to their own personal experience of the city or field of expertise. The “Alternative City” is a combination of actions initiated by various actors – from the state, the professional sphere, and local citizens – working on physical or virtual media. On the one hand, individual initiatives are related to the daily experience of city life. On the other hand, if we focus on this issue in relation to the Chinese city, rapid urbanization has generated new spaces, theoretical thoughts, experimentation, and constant adaptations to the customs and needs of the people.

In China today, one can observe a significant increase in the number of several types of actors: collective, individual, associative, and those from civil society who are continuously emerging from new urban contexts and pushing for policy adjustments and amendments. There are designers, developers, and institutions working for a more vigorous and collaborative urban development based on how policy decisions and actions actually affect the daily lives of residents. Yet in China’s present urban context, there has not only been a proliferation in the number of urban actors and stakeholders, but within discrete categories and groups themselves (e.g. “developers”, “preservationists”, “urban residents”, etc.) perspectives and approaches have multiplied considerably.

Press stakeholders – the debate is on

The urban China debate has become increasingly heated within Chinese and Western media outlets. Until around 2005, and to some degree even afterward, the urban question was very much a “political” one: the kind of information about cities we were looking for was only to be found in urban planning museums or restricted to universities or specialists.

The book City Record by Wang Jun, a bestseller republished several times, may be a fruitful starting point. In this work, Wang explores the essence of Beijing and the importance of the preservation of the city. Wang Jun is a prominent Xinhua journalist.

Today, media accounts on China’s urban issues have multiplied considerably. From the work of publicized researchers like Wu Fulong, who asserts the importance of conserving urban villages around large cities, to recent debates on the urbanization rate and China’s new social realities in the economic magazine Caixin; from two ‘sensational’ interviews given by Zhang Song, a professor at Tongji University, who critically denounced the city as an “economic machine” that works at the expense of communities and local cultures, to the recent mobilization of Chinese media against the destruction of Liang Sicheng’s historic home which may have come rather belatedly. One might also consider the reaction to the scheduled destruction of the Gulou district which has also aroused some controversy, detailed in the China Daily under the headline “Not another Qianmen?” The list of featured stories continues to grow.

It feels like the debate is on, while new ways to describe Chinese urban issues are emerging. This diffusion directly affects the citizen, who is then drawn in, reacting to and seizing these issues, making them their own.

Public stakeholders: spatial “acupuncture”

However, China’s changing urban landscape is far from completely uniform. In the Changjiang Delta, many new and innovative projects are currently underway. Among others enterprises and initiatives here, there are new modernized public spaces being erected with particular attention being given to surrounding landscaped areas. New out-of-the-ordinary buildings are also being constructed.

It therefore appears that some kind of ameliorative landscape “acupuncture” is occurring throughout China; a source of rest and calm for urban areas in Shanghai, Ningbo, Hangzhou and Nanjing, to name but a few locations where such projects are underway. More and more of these kinds of contemporary public spaces are being created for local citizens, forming new anchor points around which the city is being (re)made. These areas seem to be quite attractive to people. Public developers manage development projects under the supervision of local authorities, who are gradually becoming more open and discerning. We recently met the Chinese developer of “Shanghai Corniche” park, opposite the World Expo on the Puxi shore, who has opted for high-level design as a solution to scale control and water management. This developer also had strong and concrete guiding principles for the project – the preservation of industrial heritage, the creation of a fun trail around the old rails, etc.

The designer stakeholder – new local identity and contemporary architecture

In light of the current needs of Chinese cities (housing, infrastructure, public facilities, etc.), it seems that too little attention is given to contemporary architecture creations. Nevertheless, some important local Chinese architects are gaining ground in the general discussion. For instance, we can speak about architect Wang Shu, winner of the 2012 Pritzker Prize, architecture’s highest honor, who works on a kind of “large-scale manufacture”; Zhang Lei’s work on local contexts; Deshaus agency in Shanghai; Urbanus’ experimental urbanism in Shenzhen; and Liu Jiakun in Chengdu, whose work is also quite sensitive to local identity and history.

There was a new push of 15 to 20 innovative and independent agencies in the 2000s; but these stakeholders are still marginal. What each of these agencies share is an original and interesting approach to the territory where they work, emphasizing and attending to issues that vary from local crafts, resource issues, history, and the environment.

The local stakeholders – Conflict/Negotiation/Appropriation

Individuals, communities, associations and NGOs have a direct impact on the existing city as well. That is to say, the city as it is and as it evolves. As such, this obviously concerns urban heritage, but also “what is already there”: that which lives, inhabits, and evolves over time there without necessarily knowing major transformations. On this matter, three points are essential.

Urban heritage is too often a synonym for conflict, despite the protection zones established in large cities. Stakeholders like the Beijing Cultural Heritage Protection Center (see Beijing Historic Centre Protection Plan), Mrs. Hua Xinmin in Beijing, or the Ruan Yisan Foundation for the protection of urban heritage in Shanghai are today mobilizing on the sensitive issue of tangible and intangible cultural destruction. Today, these organizations offer a new means to exert pressure on local and state government actors and corporations, especially through the media.

However, in these cities, the existing systems of protection only consider what is officially perceived as “heritage”. It is critical this definition and system of protection be extended. One example is the district of Caochangdi in Beijing. The Beijing’s blueprint was ratified in 2004, and at the time, Caochangdi was an urban village that many assumed would likely disappear in the process of the city’s rapid urbanization. However, art galleries gradually began to develop there where rents were cheap and properties accessible to artists. Eventually, a diverse and lively community was established there. Today, it is a vibrant area that in many ways represents the spirit of Beijing. Yet this area, like many other artists’ villages around Beijing, is still being threatened. It is here that local communities can be seen to play a vital role, as the artists here are mobilizing, resisting, and challenging official decisions through petitions, media mobilizations, sit-ins, public performances, etc. This is precisely what happened in the art district of Dashanzi/798, where artists raised public awareness about the unique architectural and artistic qualities of the area by mobilizing against its scheduled destruction.

Forms of spatial appropriation in city can also, however, be a bit more gradual, gentler and less conflict-laden. In Beijing, for example, the musical community has redefined the image of the city these last ten or fifteen years. This community created alternative places in the city, as well as events that slowly but surely began to occupy public space: the Strawberry Festival in Tongzhou; the Modern Sky Music Festival in Haidian Park; Festival Intro at 798, etc. What was originally related to the underground has gradually given way to officially sanctioned (or at least tolerated) events. Consequently, a new image of Beijing as a city of rock has emerged, at least among its own residents.

Netizens – the protest 2.0

In recent years, the emergence of new stakeholders from civil society can in large part be seen as a consequence of new online forums, data-sharing techonologies and social networks. On these new platforms, there have been significant reactions to environmental and urban issues. These new media are also being used as tools for mobilization against destructions and demolitions in China’s historic cities. Recent examples such as the “real estate bloody map”, a map on Google Maps that plot violent housing evictions and land grabs across the country (the map has now been deleted), or photographer Wang Jiuliang’s appropriation of Google Earth images of dumpsites around Beijing provide a couple interesting case studies.

Recently, a chain of Weibo posts have pointed out the disappearance of the historic Liaocheng city centre by the Grand Canal—a site which was supposed to be protected by the government (under the label “famous historical and cultural city”). The concrete policy and planning effects of these kinds of mobilizations may still be up for debate, but regardless, local decision-makers are most certainly also on Weibo, and as such, the potential power and influence of such information flows cannot be underestimated.

University stakeholders – long-term actions

China’s major technical universities (architecture, urban planning, environment, etc.) play an essential role in both the transmission of knowledge and in the specific interventions and development of urban territories. This is especially so because of their triple-objectives of “research, education, and projects”, the latter largely the result of collaborations with institutes integrated within the institutions. For example, these universities can often play a significant role as ‘national experts’ in their localities on heritage issues.

In the last few years, we have been witness to the different approaches of various architecture schools. The long-term exchanges conducted between the Paris-Malaquais Architecture School and Tsinghua University, and subsequently the collaboration with the China Academy of Arts, has enabled and facilitated rigorous critical thought on specific urban sites, their challenges, and their surrounding cities, as well as their overall urbanization processes in the last ten years. Through the work of students of architecture and urbanism, these schools attempt to propose alternative development solutions on real existing sites, and sometimes also do so in real commercial contexts.

Bruno J. Hubert, architect and professor at Paris-Malaquais, has developed a working theory as a part of the academic exchange between France and China. His theory consists of five points which he presents in a recent collection in the book Architecture/Mutations: processing of resources, of proximities, of morphogenesis, of density and of ethics in the projects (ed. ENSAPM/City of Architecture and Heritage, link in French).

Mobilization of stakeholders – impacts on urban spaces

By regrouping these six actors in a grid and by comparing the case of Beijing with the cities of the Changjiang Delta, we realize that they all, to varying degrees, play a role in the improvement of urban living. Their actions form the framework of an “alternative city” in these localities, providing an urban development mode which is not exclusively focused on the economic performance of the cities.

Location Scouting for Antoine Boutet’s film “South to North”

In 2009, Antoine Boutet, French artist and documentary film producer, invited me to assist him on the first location scooting for his latest film on China and its looming water crisis. Previously, Boutet has also produced a film exploring China’s Three Gorges Dam. We were on the road for six weeks when we finally arrived at the first traces of a canal and bridge construction project which aimed to transfer water from the south to north of China—across a distance of more than 5000 km. This epic journey allowed us to measure the impacts of these works on the landscape through a vast array of territories, primarily rural. Our travel did not exceed more than 200 km a day, which enabled us to appreciate and reflect on the scenery, topography, and social and cultural dimensions of the areas we travelled across.

Bridges, roads, headlands, village ruins, buses, amusement parks and natural parks, abandoned pools, transit or irrigation canals, dams, locks, earth mounds, guarded zones and vacant lots: they all comprised the framework for our location scooting, creating a kind of “territorial initiation” as we made our journey.

I took a few notes and made some drawings in my travel book, taking some photos as well during the journey. Here is a short selection. With each entry there is a corresponding title, mileage record and, depending on my particular encounters that day, some observations, discussion, and/or personal observations.

In this photographic selection, prepared with Thomas Sauvin, we favored the image quality and their “photogenic” articulation over simple chronological descriptions of the journey.