Urban Appropriation Strategies: Exploring Space-making Practices in Contemporary European Cityscapes 9783839441701

Table of contents :
Table of Content
Acknowledgements
Urban Appropriation Strategies
APPROPRIATION AS A MEANS TO CREATE CITIZEN-CENTRED URBAN SPACES
Open Space Development through Appropriation. Between Imagination and Paradox
Researching the Underground
Self-Organising the Commons through the Right to the City
Mapping the Teufelsberg
APPROPRIATION OF NATURE, THE URBAN AND URBAN NATURE(S)
Urban Natures of Appropriation
Flussbad Berlin
Where Context Meets Content(s)
Urban Appropriation at the University
APPROPRIATION OF THE URBAN IN THE CONTEXT OF MIGRATION
Urban Planning in the Context of Migration
Streetworks
Kitchen on the Run
Author Biographies

Citation preview

Flavia Alice Mameli, Franziska Polleter, Mathilda Rosengren, Josefine Sarkez-Knudsen (eds.) Urban Appropriation Strategies

Urban Studies

Flavia Alice Mameli, Franziska Polleter, Mathilda Rosengren, Josefine Sarkez-Knudsen (eds.)

Urban Appropriation Strategies Exploring Space-making Practices in Contemporary European Cityscapes

© 2018 transcript Verlag, Bielefeld Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data are available in the Internet at http://dnb.d-nb.de Cover realization: Maria Arndt, Bielefeld Cover illustration: »MAP SC 2.2: Dragonerareal Berlin-Kreuzberg« (Simone Prill and Franziska Polleter, TU Berlin 2015) Printed by Majuskel Medienproduktion GmbH, Wetzlar Print-ISBN 978-3-8376-4170-7 PDF-ISBN 978-3-8394-4170-1

Table of Content

Acknowledgments | 9 Urban Appropriation Strategies. An Introduction

Mathilda Rosengren with Flavia Alice Mameli, Franziska Polleter and Josefine Sarkez-Knudsen | 11




APPROPRIATION AS A MEANS TO CREATE CITIZEN - CENTRED URBAN SPACES Open Space Development through Appropriation. Between Imagination and Paradox

Interview with Annette Geiger and Stefanie Hennecke by Flavia Alice Mameli | 25 Researching the Underground. Wagenburgen and Imaginary Landscapes Anja Schwanhäußer | 35 Self-Organising the Commons through the Right to the City. Or, Caring for the Appropriation of Absence in the Absence of Appropriation Toby Austin Locke | 41

Mapping the Teufelsberg. Or, How to Embody History Nathalie Fari | 51

APPROPRIATION OF NATURE , THE URBAN AND URBAN NATURE ( S ) Urban Natures of Appropriation

Interview with Matthew Gandy by Mathilda Rosengren | 65 Flussbad Berlin. Reclaiming the Spree Canal in Central Berlin Jan Edler | 73 Where Context Meets Content(s). Stellepolari Landscape Architecture Greta Colombo and Lorenza Manfredi | 81 Urban Appropriation at the University. The Impact Lab “Green City – Just City?” Beatrice Walthall and Tilman Reinhardt | 91

APPROPRIATION OF THE URBAN IN THE C ONTEXT OF M IGRATION Urban Planning in the Context of Migration

Interview with Ralf Pasel-Krautheim by Franziska Polleter and Josefine Sarkez-Knudsen | 107 Streetworks. Street Networks and Designing Diversity in Neukölln, Berlin Malte Bergmann and Laura Kemmer | 113

Kitchen on the Run Rabea Haß | 135

Author Biographies | 145

Acknowledgements

This publication has been made possible with the generous support of the European Research Council Advanced Grant research project Rethinking Urban Nature, the Patrum Lumen Sustine Foundation and the Åke Wibergs Stiftelse. The editors would also like to thank Prof. Matthew Gandy, Prof. Dr. Annette Geiger, Prof. Dr. Stefanie Hennecke and Prof. Mats Rosengren for their valuable input and advice, Nicolas Kort for the help with the website, all our families and friends for their encouragement and, finally, a big thank you to Cato Stricker who accompanied us throughout the work with the conference and during all editorial meetings.

Urban Appropriation Strategies An Introduction M ATHILDA R OSENGREN WITH F LAVIA A LICE M AMELI , F RANZISKA P OLLETER AND J OSEFINE S ARKEZ -K NUDSEN

Often [appropriated] space is a structure – a monument or building – but this is not always the case: a site, a square or a street may also be legitimately described as an appropriated space. Examples of appropriated spaces abound, but it is not always easy to decide in what respect, how, by whom and for whom they have been appropriated. (Lefebvre, 1991[1974]:165)

How are we to make sense of urban appropriation strategies? What traits – spatial, socio-cultural, politico-historical – define the appropriations behind these approaches? Furthermore, how can an interdisciplinary assessment of such strategies work as a potential means to uncover and unpick the ambivalent, ever-changing nature of our present urban landscapes? These were some of the initial questions that we, the editors, grappled with when we initiated the one-day conference Urban Appropriation Strategies, held at the University of Kassel in November 2016. All coming from different academic and professional backgrounds, we nevertheless converged in the ways our work and research interests all seemingly circled around debates, tensions and relations between urban space and the movements, expressions and settlings of its dwellers – human and other-thanhuman alike. In a sense, perhaps this disciplinary cross-over of interests is not very surprising. As Henri Lefebvre, more than 40 years ago, duly noted: It is not difficult to find a variety of cases of appropriated space in a city (1991[1974]:165). Accordingly, this abundance is most likely to also be re-

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flected in the range of manners and approaches used to investigate such spaces – the diverse empirical contributions in this book, spanning artistic, academic and professional practices, providing yet another element of confirmation to this statement. It is in a similar vein that architectural scholar Ralf Pasel-Krautheim argues that “urban society can only genuinely be reflected through a multitude of different approaches and projects.” (this book, page 110) Nevertheless, what we have found is that it is also this diversity of spatial interactions – and the array of practices and theories growing out of, as well as shaping, such spaces – which make urban appropriations so hard to pin down to a single concept or theory. As opposed to meticulously planned and developed urban spaces – that is, spaces with municipally assigned and specifically articulated intentions and purposes – appropriated spaces, with their informal and fluctuating identities, many times lack the legitimacy granted their official counterparts. They are, in architect Dougal Sheridan’s words, “[i]ndeterminate spaces [, which] ask questions rather than deliver fixed answers.” (2012:206) Through their very existence, they put the idea of the cityscape as a site defined by permanence, formality and functional planning into question (Von Schéele 2016). And by providing alternatives to a structured, top-down controlled urban space, they then also encourage, as Sheridan puts it, “the subjectivity, appropriation, development, adaptation, and expression of those occupying these indeterminate environments.” (2012:206) This allowing of alternative articulations of urban activities and bodies runs like a red thread through the chapters of this book. In different ways, the essays show how such informality and indeterminacy affect the spatial identity of an area, but equally they touch upon how socialities, ecologies, temporalities and histories are inherently entwined in very making of the urban; urban appropriations may be materially fleeting, but their effects and affects have the potential to be far more long-lasting. Thus, this anthology does not address appropriated places solely in their spatiality, but also in the processes that abound inside and around them. In fact, in many of the contributions, space itself has had to take a back seat. This shift of focus, away from spatiality to the practices, presences and politics that make up the urban landscape, is intentional. It acts as a means of thinking outside the often taken-for-granted binaries of urban life: urban / rural, nature / culture, formal / informal, structured / unstructured, planned / unplanned and so on.

U RBAN A PPROPRIATION S TRATEGIES : A N I NTRODUCTION | 13

For, as we will see in many of the contributions, though urban appropriations often contest the formalised articulation of a city, they also have the ability to work “with it.” As a diverse line of critics have pointed out, (informal) practices of appropriation frequently end up becoming encapsulated in, or eradicated by, the official flows of powers, policies and economics of the city (see for example Patrick 2014; Sandercock 2005; Thörn 2013). And, unsurprisingly, the resistance against such forces form a persistent strand in the narratives surrounding appropriations (see, for instance, the example of the Dragoner Areal below). Nevertheless, as some of the contributions show, this is not always the case. For instance, many urban planners and landscape architects have, on various occasions throughout the 20th century, turned to spontaneous or informal urban practices and ecologies to inform and shape their work, both in theory and in practice.1 Consequently also inviting municipal and administrative bodies to engage in these practices. As Stefanie Hennecke points out, in an ideal world, the municipality “should not be understood as an opponent to appropriation but as the patron of it.” (this book, page 32) Thus, balancing on the fence between the public and the private, theorising and practicing urban appropriations highlight the ambivalence of the urban. It shows how indeterminate, informal spaces of city-living may have always existed alongside the formal ones and how the city can at once be a habitat of individual freedom and sociocultural segregation, economic growth and destitution, democratic movements and oppressive regimes – and many phenomena in between.

1

In fact, the concept of appropriation as a source of creativity for architects, planners and designers, has been present in urban theory throughout the past century. It is particularly noticeable in the planning ideas of the 1960’s and 1970’s, when the notion was consciously brought to the fore in discourses on the theory, practice and politics of urban development. This was also the time when designer Victor Papanek (1985) started cultivating the idea that “everybody can be a designer”, paving the way for more articulated do-it-yourself approaches in urban space.

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T RACING THE MEANING ( S ) “ APPROPRIATION ”

OF THE

“ URBAN ”

THROUGH

This ambivalence, not only in the urban but also in the theorisation and practice of urban appropriations, resonates in the etymology and contemporary definition of “appropriation” itself. The Latin origin of the noun is proprium, meaning “property”. The contemporary definition of the noun “appropriation” can either mean “the making of a thing private property, whether another’s or […] one’s own” or “the assignment of anything to a special purpose, […] esp. a sum of money set apart for any purpose.” (Oxford English Dictionary 2017) “Appropriation” is consequently linked, on the one hand, to the idea of a material entity (to which someone has a rightful claim). Yet, on the other hand, it denotes a possibly illegal “seizing” of an external body or notion, or a “setting aside”, an exclusion, from a general whole. Subsequently, it is not surprising that different disciplines have defined and approached “appropriation” in various ways. Today, it is mainly in the jurisprudence, psychology, philosophy and the social sciences that the concept of appropriation denotes specific definitions and meanings (Deinet and Reutlinger 2004): Law scholars speak of appropriation when describing the acquisition of property without prior association. In psychology, the term appears, in the majority of cases, in the context of education and is used primarily for the learning of skills and the appropriation of knowledge (Nolda 2006). Furthermore, in the context of philosophical dialectics, the process of appropriation is understood as the conscious shaping of human living conditions (Jaeggi 2002). This latter point is something that several of the contributions are contemplating and is particularly highlighted in the first section of the book, Appropriation as a Means to Create Citizen-centred Urban Spaces. Here, in an interview with Flavia Alice Mameli, Annette Geiger and Stefanie Hennecke discuss, among many other things, the importance and relevance of both individual and collective imaginations in the appropriation of “open” spaces in the city – that is, the envisaging of the urban, the social, and the political. Such socio-political imaginaries can take many different expressions: As a refashioning of a dilapidated house in South-East London (as in the case Austin-Locke describes in this book), as a counter-cultural “underground” in a Berliner trailer park (Schwanhäußer, this book) or as a temporary, embodied engagement with a former Cold War radar station

U RBAN A PPROPRIATION S TRATEGIES : A N I NTRODUCTION | 15

(Fari, this book). All these accounts illustrate how, to borrow anthropologist and architect Stephen Cairns’ words (2004:11), …places that appear to be most fixed in social, material, and architectural terms can support highly mobile or fluid collective imaginaries, while more fluid and transient places, whose architectures may be more lightweight and fragile, can sustain more grounded and fixed imaginaries.

Through a manifestation of both abstract and physical appropriations, the urban thus becomes a site of present political contestations and future potentialities in equal measures. Berlin, the capital of Germany, features heavily here as a unique, but also pertinent, example of this urban constellation. Here, appropriation as a method has long played a strategic role in urban developments in the city. So much so that, in 2007, the book Urban Pioneers: Stadtentwicklung durch Zwischennutzung was published by the Senate Department for Urban Development (Senatsverwaltung für Stadtentwicklung), presenting over 40 examples of appropriation projects in Berlin (Senatsverwaltung für Stadtentwicklung Berlin 2007). The articles in the book intended to give a comprehensive insight into the discourse about appropriation and to advertise new models of action for urban development through informal and especially interim usages. Nevertheless, these intermediate appropriations have not always adhered to the idea of informal and temporary structures as a transitional means that smoothly paves the way for more formal and permanent constructions, as envisioned by the senate or municipality. One recent example, where appropriation is used to counteract formal urban developments, is the Dragoner Areal in the borough of Kreuzberg. As an area predominantly utilised by small-scale manufacturing companies and car mechanics, local Berliners were disappointed and angered by the announced sale of this federal property to any highest bidder, and consequently a petition against the sale was initiated in 2014. Since then, the citizens’ initiative Stadt von unten (roughly translated as “City from below”) has organised demonstrations, temporary appropriations and occupations of parts of the area, as well as art exhibtions on the site. Linked to this fight for keeping space free for informal appropriation is also the demand for affordable living space for the lower-income inhabitants of the increasinglygentrifying Kreuzberg – adding a further layer to the already politically

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contentious situation. As a response to this dispute, researchers and students from the Institute of Architecture at the Technical University Berlin have analysed the potential of appropriation on the grounds to define future usages of these “commons.” The map on the front cover of this book is a tracing of the present usages, and their varying intensities, of the common areas at the Dragoner Areal – investigating the architecturally given borders, the temporarily appropriated zones, as well as the areas of established, longterm use.

A PPROPRIATION

AS A STRATEGY

Within such contested urban landscape, the act of appropriation can then be considered as a strategy for expressing, exploring, but also managing, the spaces and processes in question. This notion of an “urban appropriation strategy” may seem like a strange constellation, at least if read through a Lefebvrian lens. A strategy, per definition, is after all closely associated with a structured master plan, which in turn is deeply connected to the concept of domination – a notion Lefebvre introduces as the antithesis to the more “free flowing” workings of appropriation (1991 [1974]:164-165). Admittedly, to a certain extent, we are indebted to Lefebvre’s reasoning around spatial appropriation in our own understanding of the term and its processes. Nonetheless, as mentioned above, we remain sceptical about relying too heavily on a binary structure such as the one of domination/ appropriation. As a matter of fact, several of the empirical accounts in this book do indeed point to a more nuanced idea of urban spatiality and its processes, where informal and formal planning practices overlap or merge and human agencies intermingle with other-than-human ones. These entwinements of urban appropriation are very much highlighted in the human attempt to master other-than-human nature – both in an actual as well as metaphorical sense. As political ecologist Maria Kaika contends: “Expressions, such as ‘the urban wilderness’ and ‘the concrete jungle’ invoke images of an out-of-control urbanization process and an uncivilized ‘nature’, both of which need control and mastering.” (2012:15) The second section of the anthology, Appropriation of Nature, the Urban and Urban Nature(s), thus focuses on the ways in which we approach and value nature in the city, touching upon the politically contentious right to urban green

U RBAN A PPROPRIATION S TRATEGIES : A N I NTRODUCTION | 17

space as well as the possibilities in integrating aspects of other-than-human patterns of living into urban planning and landscape architecture. The former is addressed in Beatrice Walthall and Tilman Reinhardt’s account of the studies that their interdisciplinary course, the Impact Lab, conducted in relation to the redevelopment of an informal East Berliner wasteland. In 2017, it was integrated into an international garden exhibition, much to the dismay of many locals who had frequented the area on a regular basis and exposing the precarious state of “public” green space in an ever-increasing privatised urban landscape. The latter is reflected in, firstly, how Jan Edler proposes a reimagination of both social, ecological and historical significance, through the reappropriation of urban water – making a part of the river Spree in Berlin swimmable to the general public. And secondly, how the founders of Stellepolari Landscape Architecture, Greta Colombo and Lorenza Manfredi, speak about paving the way for “spontaneous” appropriations by urban nature itself as a crucial part of their practice. Thus, urban appropriation strategies can many times be found to look beyond the solely human in the city, but it is no less imbued in political struggles and economic incentives. As Matthew Gandy aptly sums it up in the interview of this section (this book, page 66): [U]rban nature [should be considered] as this diversity of potential appropriations, which also have political implications: from more inclusive or sensitive responses to urban nature, to attempts to simply use nature, or symbols of nature, as part of the speculative dynamics of capitalist urbanisation.

M AKING

SENSE OF TRANSIENT THROUGH APPROPRIATION

E UROPEAN

CITIES

The third and final section of the anthology, Appropriation of the Urban in the Context of Migration, focuses on migration in Europe. The migrant flows, generated by the past years’ devastating conflicts and famines in the Middle East and sub-Saharan Africa, have profoundly challenged the ways in which newcomers are cared for, accommodated and included into western European societies. This has confronted issues of socio-cultural access, use and appropriation of urban space, raising questions of what role the urban plays in the context of migration. Bringing together the seemingly con-

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tradictory concepts of architecture and migration – the former often associated with “groundedness” and demarcated places and the latter with “uprootedness” and mobility – Cairns argues that, though migrants may be seen as deeply connected to “nomadic styles of mobility, their aspirations [are] oriented towards stability and settlement.” (2004: 1) As such, rather than leading a life of itinerancy, the aspirations of newcomers are predominately (and perhaps unsurprisingly) to settle and become legitimate citizens at their place of arrival. In order to enable this process, architects, designers and many more are working on structures and concepts that will allow newcomers to swiftly appropriate the space they find themselves in – thus, encouraging an individual agency oftentimes found wanting at the arrival in a new setting. Here, as the onus is put on easy-to-build and readily available constructions, the designs in question borrow heavily from do-ityourself notions of temporary appropriation strategies. For instance, in the interview of this section, Ralf Pasel-Krautheim describes the work to design a mobile workshop space for a refugee welcome centre in Munich, giving the residents of the centre both an opportunity to leave their relatively cramped lodgings and a reason to interact with locals in the area. This need for spaces that encourage encounters between locals and newcomers is also emphasised by Rabea Haß. Haß’s account of her project Kitchen on the Run – which turned an old shipping container into a mobile kitchen and drove it through various cities in western Europe – explores how even a single night of cooking together, in a space formerly unknown to everyone involved, can foster understandings and create bonds between newcomers and locals. This resonates with literary theorist Ackbar Abbas argument that, “migrancy means […] not only changing places; [but also] the changing nature of places.” (2004: 131) Abbas is at odds with the expectation that migrants would simply arrive, settle, and assimilate, and suggests that migrants might settle in their new destinations in ways that openly acknowledge, express and sustain links to their own cultural origins. Forms of urban appropriations may thus flow in multiple ethno-cultural directions. This is something that Malte Bergmann and Laura Kemmer shine light on as they examine transnational planning initiatives and (post-) migrant entrepreneurs’ public place making practices in the Berliner borough of Neukölln. Comparing two parallel streets in the neighbourhood, Bergmann and Kemmer explore “the dilemma of urban participatory planning to intervene in the streetscape while remaining sensitive to trans-local place-

U RBAN A PPROPRIATION S TRATEGIES : A N I NTRODUCTION | 19

making.” (this book, page 114) Thus, different planning approaches reflect not only ideas of planning itself but also the notions and definitions of the European urban. This latter point is something we wish to address all through the anthology, be it directly or indirectly. Admittedly, all contributions centre around western and southern European cities and nations (and moving outside the European framework would bring with it additional sets of questions that this book is too small to adequately address). But though we are staying in a western-centric, European context in terms of geographical locations, the contributions’ accounts of academic and artistic exchanges, processes uncovered and traced, flows of bodies, politics and economics – all in relation to urban appropriations – put the notion of a physically bounded, socioculturally defined European cityscape strongly into question. Though this insight is not always an articulated claim in the essays, we would argue that, when addressing urban appropriation strategies at large this theme is in one way or another always present. When assessing all of the contributions as a multi-layered whole, they present in no way a holistic image of how to look at urban appropriation strategies. (And the question remains whether this is ever an achievable, or desirable, goal!) Rather, they provide glimpses, or fragments, of contemporary European urban dwellings and relations, and in this process also denote the transience of such ways of life. They tackle urban appropriation strategies as socio-cultural narratives, politicohistorical occasions and socio-ecological expressions – as theory, practice and empirical reality – without for that matter dictating an exact definition of the urban, nor the practices of appropriation within. In short, they maintain (some more forcefully than others) the democratic, open-endedness of appropriation strategies, and in the process perhaps also connoting the notion of an open-ended Europe? Ultimately, it is for you, dear reader, to decide what you make of it.

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B IBLIOGRAPHY Abbas, A. (2004) ‘Building Hong Kong – From migrancy to disappearance’. in Drifting – Architecture and Migrancy. London: Routledge, 129–141. Cairns, S. (2004) ‘Introduction’. in Drifting – Architecture and Migrancy. London: Routledge, 1–16. Deinet, U. & Reutlinger, C. (Eds.) (2004) “Aneignung” als Bildungskonzept der Sozialpädagogik, Beiträge zur Pädagogik des Kindes- und Jugendalters in Zeiten entgrenzter Lernorte. Wiesbaden: Springer Verlag. Jaeggi, R. (2002) ‘Aneignung braucht Fremdheit’. Appropriation Now! Texte zur Kunst 46, 60–70. Kaika, M. (2012) City of Flows: Modernity, Nature, and the City. London: Routledge. Lefebvre, H. (1991) [1974] The Production of Space. trans. by NicholsonSmith, D. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing. Nolda, S. (2006) ‘Pädagogische Raumaneignung: zur Pädagogik von Räumen und ihrer Aneignung; Beispiele aus der Erwachsenenbildung’. Zeitschrift für qualitative Bildungs-, Beratungs- und Sozialforschung[online]www.ssoar.info/ssoar/handle/document/27799 [last accessed 17 November 2017] Oxford English Dictionary (2017) [online] Oxford: Oxford University Press [last accessed 17 November 2017] Papanek, V. (1985) Design for the Real World: Human Ecology and Social Change. London: Thames & Hudson. Patrick, D.J. (2014) ‘The Matter of Displacement: A Queer Urban Ecology of New York City’s High Line’. Social & Cultural Geography 15 (8), 920–941. Sandercock, L. (2005) ‘The Democratization of Planning: Elusive or Illusory?’ Planning Theory & Practice 6 (4), 437. Senatsverwaltung für Stadtentwicklung Berlin (ed.) (2007) Urban Pioneers: Stadtentwicklung durch Zwischennutzung. Berlin: Jovis. Sheridan, D. (2012) ‘Disordering public space: urban wildscape processes in practice’. in Urban Wildscapes. Jorgensen, A. and Keenan, R. (eds.) London: Routledge, 201–220. Thörn, H. (2013) Stad i Rörelse – Stadsomvandlingen och Striderna om Haga och Christiania. Falun: Atalas Akademi.

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Von Schéele, C. (2016) The void: Urban wasteland as political space. thesis. Lund University.

W EBSITES Stadt von unten [online] https://stadtvonunten.de/ [last accessed 17 November 2017]

APPROPRIATION AS A MEANS TO CREATE CITIZEN-CENTRED URBAN SPACES

Picture Credit: Daniel Schäfer

Open Space Development through Appropriation Between Imagination and Paradox I NTERVIEW WITH A NNETTE G EIGER AND

S TEFANIE H ENNECKE BY F LAVIA A LICE M AMELI

Visions of freedom, adventure and an autonomous life play an important role in many of the projects depicted in this anthology. Would you say that imagination is a driving force in the appropriation of open spaces? Annette Geiger: The imaginary surely plays a central role in contemporary appropriation practices. Our desires and perceptions determine the projects in urban open space areas in diverse ways. For example, those who take part in urban gardening practices do not only want to harvest vegetables, through utilising the visibility of such cultivation they also want to set an example. Here, the question of whom the city really belongs to is symbolically negotiated. Urban activism lays claim to self-organised spaces just through its very presence in such areas. This symbolism is even more pronounced in classical forms of guerrilla gardening. Take the example of the throwing of seed bombs: Above all, the seed bomb produces imaginary capital. The seeds are thrown – at traffic islands or in green areas – by potential gardeners, who then just move on. This is regarded as subversive because it is a protest against the dreary design of urban space, at the same time as it sets an example. The message being: “The city should belong to those who inhabit the place and to those who use open and public spaces.” But the example of the seed bomb also shows the inner contradictions of

26 | INTERVIEW WITH A NNETTE G EIGER AND S TEFANIE H ENNECKE

this social action. After sowing the seeds, the guerrilla gardeners do not take care of the fruits of their labour. Their action is reduced to the mere act and is thus not particularly sustainable. True gardening consists in cultivating and caring for what you have sown! Stefanie Hennecke: I agree. This is also the case with the urban gardeners’ popular, often self-built, plant crates. After a few years, the crates deteriorate and become unusable. But, in the eyes of the appropriators [i.e. the urban gardeners], this in itself is not seen as a problem. As I see it, in contrast to professional landscape architecture, do-it-yourself (DIY) spatial design does not exactly strive to be sustainable. Through its aesthetics and design, it is hardly a solidly built and well-kept private home with a garden (the permanent form of appropriation) that is being evoked, but rather, it is the dream of our childhood’s tree-houses. Projects of appropriation are usually more like a playground and an adventure, rather than focused on the pursuit of a permanent structural change of space. As a kind of utopia of social integration, in many projects of appropriation it is the “setting an example” and the “becoming active” in a community that, in itself, is more important than the actual, final product. The conceptual dimension of the German term Freiraum (literally “free space”) is here being taken seriously: in order to act out your individual freedom you take possession of the space. This imagination of another form of openspace design ultimately arises from the fundamental criticism of a destructive, or environmentally changing, approach to nature through urban planning. Temporary projects do not purport to offer the solution to the problem in question, but rather, in the complex jungle of urban coexistence, they are cautiously searching for a suitable and sustainable form of cohabitation. Like in Lucius Burckhardt ’s (2012, 2013) call for the “smallest possible intervention” (kleinstmöglicher Eingriff) or “invisible planning” (unsichtbare Planung), they could be described as an alternative form of sustainability. For a number of years, the privatisation of public space – i.e. the tendency to have public spaces created and maintained by private companies, sometimes within the scope of public-private partnerships – has been widely discussed. With this in mind, could all appropriation of public space be viewed as a form of privatisation?

O PEN S PACE D EVELOPMENT THROUGH A PPROPRIATON | 27

AG: The question targets the central problem of appropriation. I would even go so far as to downright speak of a “paradox of appropriation.” Either activism tries to interfere with urban planning, as shown by the example of the seed bomb, and there is no long-lasting change involved. Or, the appropriation projects work towards a long-term commitment and then the space in question tends to become privatised once again. For you become less inclined to share an area with everybody else, if you have eagerly put both your own time and money into that space. Consequently, fences are raised once more as a protection against theft or wanton destruction – and quite understandably so. Primarily, appropriation is intended to implement your own ideas and wishes, rather than those of a general public, and therefore, it is also inherently oriented towards the private. The care for a particular space, and what makes appropriation so appealing, only works because of individual, egotistical interests. Thus, appropriation has something selfish about it and this is indeed centred around the occupation of land. Of course, the public sector could take advantage of this and give public spaces to private initiatives, minimising the cost for the municipality. But then there is the danger that the public will be deprived of public space. SH: I would not describe it as “privatisation” and neither would I criticise it as such. Indeed, appropriation projects take the liberty to partially deny complete accessibility and usability of a public space. But they may also open up this space for other uses, or groups of users, which and who would otherwise be overlooked in a “free” public space. Ultimately, it has to be emphasised that public space is never free from restrictions of use. Whether these are imposed by a municipal administration or informally negotiated by users of the space. Thus, we could also call the occupying of large parts of public space by motorised traffic, as well as stationary vehicles, for “appropriation.” The designations of playgrounds, dog parks or quiet flower gardens, i.e. the assignment of certain outdoor areas to certain user groups, are seldom put into question. So, you could simply regard contemporary appropriation projects as a renegotiation of utility interests in public space. I tend to think of it more as a paradox that, in order to develop, shape, and cultivate public space, municipal planning and administration bodies are themselves “appropriating” such space. As we have just discussed in relation to imagination, my theory is that such planning and man-

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agement of appropriation projects contradict the basic motivation of appropriation itself. AG: This brings us to another paradox. If citizens, through volunteering, take on the work of the municipal administration, their actions can hardly be regarded as subversive. However, it seems to me that here the imaginary too is of great importance for the persons involved. An interesting example of “conservative subversion” occurred after the riots of the G20 summit in Hamburg in July 2017. Rebecca Lunderup, a young woman from Hamburg, felt personally attacked by the destructive rage exerted by the radically leftwing crowd (even though these rioters defined their deeds as legitimate forms of appropriation). So, the twenty-two-year-old, who had never before been politically active, organised an event on social media with a simple request: “I ask of everyone who has time on Sunday to help us clean up our beautiful city.” (quoted in Kempkens 2017) The message spread like wildfire, so much so that in the end, about 10,000 people equipped with brooms and buckets came out to clean up the wrecked and scorched neighbourhoods. Thus, this demonstration of appropriation was greater than most of the G-20 demonstrations. Supporters came from out of town, residents dished out cake, supermarkets and hardware stores donated beverages and cleaning products, and so on. The overwhelming devotion was grounded in the reasoning that: “We are Hamburg and they’re not!” This is rather absurd: A new form of conservative appropriation practice defending itself against an old, destructive form of much the same thing. One appropriation practice fighting another. As you can see from the proclamations above, what plays a big part here is the notion that the participants want to defend their city. Although urban space is not privatised by this form of activism, it is nevertheless declared as a kind of property, be it only at an emotional level. Destruction, as well as the cleaning and the tidying up, equally targets the notional question of power: Who does the city belong to and whose ways of life is allowed in this space? Here, it does not matter that the municipality certainly would have restored the neighbourhoods to their normal states again. It is about taking a stance, through appropriating a space in accordance to your own wishes and ideals.

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How important is it that appropriation projects are self-organised? Or, in other words, is a “planned” appropriation, such as one initiated by municipal administrations, ever conceivable? SH: “Appropriation on command” very rarely works. Most such projects have turned out to be failures when a municipal administration, as part of the planning of an urban open space area (for example, in a (re)development of a residential area), intentionally assigns some unmanaged areas as “spaces for appropriation.” It is therefore essential that appropriation takes place precisely at the places suitable for the notion of a social and communal imagination, or where a place has become a symbol for the suppression of appropriation activities. First and foremost, appropriation requires a dynamic DIY approach. Appropriation projects are concerned with public space as a space that everyone takes care of, without governmental rules and administrative restrictions. Here citizens actively take part in the shaping of such space, keeping it open and under constant revaluation. They do so, not through the “beautification” of the space, but in the sense of a “re-politicisation” of it within the framework of democratic negotiation processes. This is different to those squatting houses or occupying land, where they ultimately privatise the space by grabbing it for themselves. The appropriators, on the other hand, are concerned with a politically motivated communal re-claiming and re-utilisation of space. For this, the DIY approach is a central element: the processes of design and the understandings of spatial usage are not administered “from above,” but rather imagined and discussed “from below.”1 AG: That is how I see it as well. Only those actions stemming from selforganisation, and therefore also from spontaneity, should be labelled as appropriations. The city cannot delegate the maintenance of green areas to the citizens to reduce costs, because they will not take on this task in a permanent and reliable manner. Just as the citizens of Hamburg will not always clean their town themselves from now on. The anti-capitalist initiatives ultimately have this transiency in common with the “well-behaved” citizens who want to beautify their city. Neither of the groups’ deeds and behav-

1

For more contemporary and historical examples of appropriation, see Hauck, Hennecke, and Körner (2017).

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iours can be forecasted and scheduled in advance as they are inherently motivated by symbolic value. Only when an action of appropriation is able to make a statement does it become interesting for these actors, and this also means that appropriation can be as temporary as a flash mob. However, if appropriation is pursued on a long-term basis, it inevitably leads to privatisation. After all, those who are taking care of a space indefinitely also want to be rewarded at some point. It is between these two poles that the current practices of appropriation are oscillating. You both highlight the ambivalence of a “privatised public sphere” in appropriation projects. Could these projects be thought of as new articulations of the search for belonging, a sense of “being at home,” in the highly contested urban spaces of an increasingly globalised world? SH: Yes, it could even be an attempt to assume a “non-conservative” notion of home. The idea of “home” is then no longer defined by a spatial continuity of caring about your own “house with a garden,” but is instead established by changing the perception of public space in the course of acting as a private individual within this public sphere. Acting in the sense of: “I feel at home in, and retain a sense of dedication to, my neighbourhood.” For such people, it also appears self-evident to move private activities to public parks and thus attaching individual traditions – from children’s birthday parties to wedding receptions – to public space. And this, could be called “belonging.” AG: In fact, such new notion of home is no longer linked to origin, possession, tradition, and language. Rather, it manifests itself as a “being present” in public space. Whoever is physically present, makes him- or herself visible, and plays a part in the street life of a neighbourhood, also finds a home there. This new practice of putting down roots is very important for the democratic, migratory society that we strive to be. It makes provisions for us so that we can put down roots, even though we are permanently being “repotted.” This society is no longer reflecting the image of the old tree that cannot be transplanted because of its deep-seated roots. Rather, to paraphrase Gilles Deleuze’s (1977) famous metaphor: We live more like rhizomes, horizontally widespread, herbaceous and interconnected, closely below or above the surface, so that buds can sprout where you are living at the

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moment. These interlacings thus form flat hierarchies, without that single tree trunk which everything else is dependent upon. “Homeland” (Heimat) thus no longer requires the building of tradition for generations. You can feel at home much faster by participating in the public life of a locally networked community. But, of course, this requires that you can choose the place and the neighbourhood you want to live in. It is easier for wealthy people to do so than for others who are dependent on cheap living space. Once street cafés and restaurants sprout from the ground, a neighbourhood is considered to be worth living in, but that also means that local residents need to have the time and the money to utilise such places. Urban planning must work to counter this imbalance, encouraging people to be present in public space through areas that are accessible and free to all. For example, this could be parks, playgrounds, neighbourhood centres and so on. Also, appropriation as a new cultural expression of home requires continuous regulation and subsidisation, otherwise too many will be excluded. Are appropriation projects only possible in shrinking cities, and in times of economic recession? That is, during those periods of time when there is less pressure on urban space and thus more open spaces available for appropriation? SH: In my opinion, vacant lots and fallow fields are not a prerequisite for appropriation projects, they only make them easier. Appropriation also depends on the part of imagination, like the aforementioned “tree-house effect.” Today, in this time of urban densification, we can see that appropriation projects manage to find their niches and create opportunities in spite of the high pressure on the land. However, for this to work, you need municipal administrations that tolerate and suitably support these appropriations. This may seem an obvious contradiction to the argument I have developed above: that appropriation cannot be planned. It is so that the individual initiative itself cannot be claimed or planned. However, as soon as such appropriation has become manifest in the form of a project group, the municipal administration can play a major role in facilitating or in hampering the process. I see the administration also as a mediator between the various interests within public space, that is, as a moderator in the negotiation of different appropriation activities. In the case of the G20 in Hamburg, the

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city administration was also accused of having withdrawn from negotiating in the conflict, and thus ceding its responsibility of protecting public space, both against world politics and the violent protesters. Public administrative bodies and municipal policy must be able to comply with the law, for example in a democratic process of participation. Administrative bodies should not be understood as an opponent to appropriation but as a patron of it. AG: Unappropriated land is, of course, particularly interesting for appropriation initiatives because you do not expel anyone from it. In a city like Berlin, you can also draw attention to the rampant insanity of property speculation. However, the occupation of fallow land is not the prerequisite for a functioning appropriation. In Southern European countries, life takes place much more on the streets, simply because of the mild climate. Even putting your chair on the street, or leaning out of the window for a chat with the neighbours, is a kind of appropriation of public space. Only this kind of appropriation is not understood in a political sense. It seems to me that the discovery of appropriation as a political instrument is a Northern European invention. The initiatives and actors do not only want to cultivate their own way of life, they also want to demonstrate their power through their sheer presence on the site. To consider the municipality as a facilitator and patron is still hard for me to do. Confidence in public planning has been shattered after all the developments that have gone wrong in the past. Why else would people in Berlin vote against a real estate development, which would have included affordable housing, on the edges of the airfield of Tempelhof Airport?2 The citizens preferred to vote against the urban development to keep the entire airfield as an open space. Considering how, through the lack of opportunities of appropriation in many cities, long-serving social housing, quite understandably, have developed into social hot spots. It is clear that, when it comes to both design and architecture as well as neighbourhood management, citizens no longer put faith in the capability of the public sector. In order to counteract this loss of confidence, the municipal planners must first prove that they are sensitive to appropriation. Nevertheless, today there is

2

A citizen organisation called 100% Tempelhofer Feld is spearheading the opposition to the redevelopment.

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no other way to integrate participation and appropriation in urban planning processes. We must enable and support appropriations whilst, at the same time, protect them from themselves if they run risk of becoming too privately-oriented or egotistical. Translated from the German by Flavia Alice Mameli and Mathilda Rosengren.

B IBLIOGRAPHY Burkhardt, L. (2012) Design ist unsichtbar. Entwurf, Gesellschaft & Pädagogik. Berlin: Martin Schmitz Verlag. Burkhardt, L. (2013) Der kleinstmögliche Eingriff. Berlin: Martin Schmitz Verlag. Deleuze, G. and Guattari, F. (1977) Rhizom. Berlin: Merve. Hauck, T. E., Hennecke, S., and Körner S. (eds.) (2017) Aneignung urbaner Freiräume. Ein Diskurs über städtischen Raum. Bielefeld: transcript Verlag. Kempkens, S. (2017) ‘Die Tatortreinigerin’. Die Zeit. (29) 13 July. 5.

W EBSITES 100% Tempelhofer Feld [online] http://www.thf100.de/start.html [last accessed 17 November 2017]

Researching the Underground Wagenburgen and Imaginary Landscapes A NJA S CHWANHÄUSSER

Figure 2: Laster und Hänger

Photo credit: Anja Schwanhäußer

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D EAD C OUNTY C OOL B OYS

CONCERT

A landscape has disappeared, but in my imagination, this world still exists. I am remembering a rather cold evening in the late summer of 2003. The “Wobsite,” a Wagenburg at the Rummelsburger Bucht, is not easy to find. Bär, a friend of Kalle and Gabi, explained it to me like this: “The Markgrafenstraße takes a funny turn beneath the S-Bahn of Ostkreuz, then take a right towards the Betriebsgelände.” The S-Bahn bridge turns out to be a long narrow tunnel, made out of red brick stone. I pass through the tunnel. Leaving the tunnel, I am not sure when to take a right. A dark footpath leads along the railways toward the training centre Sportverein Lichtenberg. I pass a car dealer with a bunch of old Audis, then a barrack, lit by GDR street lanterns, and finally slip through a small gap next to a heavy iron gate. In the back, I can spot a campfire in between trucks and trailers and a little storage building. The fire is flanked by a sunshade that was put up for rain protection. A pig is being roasted over the fire, parts of the skin sticking out like pages of a book. Not all parts of the pig are roasted well. I comment, “The poor pig, a rather dishonourable end.” A young fellow with a Serbian accent, who earlier vigorously prompted his buddy to donate one “E-urrro” for the beer cashbox, replies rather harshly, “Er hat’s hinter sich.” It is behind him. The Dead County Cool Boys, a local punk band, performs in the storage building. Tonight, the wooden columns have an air of horse stables or Western saloons. The storage building is owned by the Bezirksamt, which means that entering it and using it is prohibited, but no one cares. The members of the Dead County Cool Boys are dressed up as villains similar to Western TV series like Gunsmoke. They wear dusty cowboy hats, tattoos, earrings, fuzzy hair, heavy jackets. The so-called Super-8-videojockey named Kent Pay My Bill hides his face behind a red scarf, as if he was preparing to rob a stagecoach. Drummer Bart the Beat Kleinen is dressed in anarchist black, including boots and a colt. Lead singer Captain Cody wears bell-bottoms he has sewn himself, the scraggy legs resembling the feet of a pony. Big sun-glasses and a shirt with an exuberant collar lends a touch of Elvis. Cody gives a little welcome speech in bad English, cautious to give it an authentic Southern accent. Then starts a pretty rugged concert with a lot of malfunctions concerning microphones, monitors and amps. To use a punk classic: passion replaces technique.

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W HY

COUNTRY MUSIC ?

Country and Western is the music of the American pioneer times, at least from a European perspective. It reminds us of Western movies and the Marlboro man, myths that the Super-8-video-jockey of the Dead County Cool Boys comments on through a collage of projections, including American buffalo herds and the local Brandenburg prairie. Sociologist Barry Shank (1994), who studied Texan rock culture, writes that country articulates a pre-civilised utopia where man and nature is in harmony or where man lives at the edge of civilisation, struggling with nature forces. Country tells the story of lone warriors and autonomous settlers who form an egalitarian community of likeminded people. Georg Seeßlen (1995), former editor of the magazine Konkret and one of the first pop-theorists, has a lot of sympathy with the cowboy. He writes that anything can fit into the saddlebag of a Western hero, any dream, any striving, any anxiety, any ideology, any trauma, any anger. These ideologies of freedom, adventure, autonomy and community sum up pretty well some focal concerns of Wagenburg and squat culture, but in a way that is a little bit ironic and with a wink. The temporary spaces that are appropriated by these groups take the image of worlds “where no man has gone before.” The urban legend of squat culture has it, that squatting, too, is about space exploration and leading an autonomous life – a need that has to be defended against executive authority. Thus, it is no surprise that sociologist Neil Smith (1993) calls squatters “urban pioneers”, “urban settlers” and “cowboys.” It is because of this analogy that country music used to be, and from what I know, still is, popular squatters’ music. The point I would like to make is that squat culture, as a particular kind of urban appropriation, is “imaginary” as much as it is “real.” Appropriating urban space means to conquer and adjust not only urban territory but also the world of imagination. And I would like to elaborate a little bit on that in a more general way, by giving some clues about the term “underground culture,” which also is a state of mind as well as a territorial manifestation.

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W HAT

IS THE UNDERGROUND ?

The term underground is historic as well as contemporary. It has many layers and is used differently by various groups throughout time and space. Generally, the term is used to mark a boundary between the normal, the everyday, the mainstream and a secret world below the city-surface. However, this dichotomy is not fixed, but rather relational and fluid. From my experience, no matter where you are dwelling in the city, you are always equally far away from the underground. The underground is always somewhere else. Thus, the underground is most of all a phantasy, an imagination. The term first became popular in New York in the 1960s. It not only referred to a distinct urban scene, closely related to hippie culture, but even more to a specific genre and style of music, literature, film and video. These styles were later imported to Europe, where other local underground scenes and underground art genres flourished. Recurrent motives include nomadic lifestyles, being “on the road,” exploring the unknown, transcending boundaries of worlds and countries beyond imagination, opening the doors of perception. Underground aesthetics include artistic experimentation, techniques of collage and questioning classical concepts of beauty. Popular underground characters are the outsider, the underdog, the hobo, the gypsy. In Germany, some refer to the underground as Untergrund, but this translation is misleading, since Untergrund defines the political underground during the period of National Socialism and later, in the 1970s, it referred to the RAF. Even though the underground imaginary contains political connotations, it is still first of all an artistic and cultural movement, therefore it is advisable to stick to the term “underground” even in a German language context. The underground imagination also includes visions of unexplored territory, terra incognita, landscapes of the unknown, and the world of bohemia. These worlds are not only symbolic, they do have a real urban topology. Cultural analyst Rolf Lindner (1997) notes that subcultures tend to find their places in the subterranean territory of the city, which includes a travel downwards, a metaphor of quasi-mythological quality, to the barbarians. And, Lindner argues, historically it has always been like this, …from the gin palaces of the anarcho-syndicalists, to the cellars of the existentialist, the forebears of the jazz cellars, to the hangouts of the beat scene that equally tended

R ESEARCHING THE U NDERGROUND | 39

to be located underground and to the urban ruins of the squat-culture and the bunkers of the techno scene. (1997:10 [the author’s translation])

C ONCLUSION To explore the underground and urban appropriation related to the underground, we thus need to explore imaginations as well as “real” spaces. My elaborations of country music gave a little example of this. Elsewhere, I further elaborate on media and poetic images that weave into Wagenburg culture, for example the novel The Electric Kool Aid Acid Test by Tom Wolfe (1968) that tells the story of a group of people touring the states in a truck called “Furthur.” Similarly, if we would explore the contemporary underground party scene, we would have to take into account books like Lost and Sound by Tobias Rapp (2009), Der Klang der Familie by Felix Denk and Sven van Thülen (2012), Strobo by Airen (2010) and Rave by Rainald Goetz (1998) and Berlin Wonderland by Anke Fesel (2014), just to name a few works. Furthermore, there are various films, documentaries, essays, art pieces, performances, bands that also would need our attention. Thus, to conclude, talking about and researching the appropriation of urban space must also include analysing imaginary worlds, because the social reality of the people who appropriate these spaces is saturated with imaginations.

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B IBLIOGRAPHY Airen. (2010) Strobo. Berlin: Ullstein. Denk, F. and Van Thülen, S. (2012) Der Klang der Familie. Berlin: Suhrkamp. Fesel, A. and Keller, C. (eds.) (2014) Berlin Wonderland: Wild Years Revisited, 1990–1996. Berlin: Bobsairport. Goetz, R. (1998) Rave. Berlin: Suhrkamp. Lindner, R. (1997) ‘Subkultur. Stichworte zur Wirkungsgeschichte eines Konzepts’. In Subkultur. Popkultur. Underground. Reihe: Berliner Blätter. Ethnographische und Ethnologische Beiträge 15. Rapp, T. (2009) Lost and Sound. Berlin: Suhrkamp. Seeßlen, G. (1995) Western. Geschichte und Mythologie des Westernfilms. Marburg: Schüren. Shank, B. (1994) Dissonant Identities. The Rock’n’Roll Scene in Austin Texas, Hanover. London, New England: Wesleyan University Press. Smith, N. (1993) ‘Gentrification in New York’. New York. Strukturen einer Metropole. Häußermann, H. and Walter, S. (eds.). Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. Wolfe, T. (1968) The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux.

Self-Organising the Commons through the Right to the City Or, Caring for the Appropriation of Absence in the Absence of Appropriation T OBY A USTIN L OCKE

Figure 3: Hate & War, No Future

Photo credit: Toby Austin Locke

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The Field is a collective experiment engaging with ideas and practices for alternative political and economic models including self-organisation, urban intervention and commoning. The experiment involves renovating a derelict building in New Cross, London, and opening it to be used by activist and community groups, and individuals who are interested in contributing to the project and its aims. Attempting to put contemporary notions concerning commoning and the commons into practice,1 the project aims to be both used and cared for by a self-organised community meeting some of the needs and desires of that community. This short descriptive, ethnographic and theoretical article draws on the authors personal experience to explore the roles of care and absence in the project, and the extent to which such commoning practices engage with forms of urban appropriation. No future. A small standing clock, black, the face inscribed with roman numerals and the hands set to 8 minutes to two, next to a hanging clock – faceless with a green A drawn in its centre. Said the bourgeois bitch as she counted the day’s takings. An unidentified mobile phone number written in green 07815635982 1 marked only by a large red encircled 23. PUNK ROCKER – a profile of a mohawked person raising their middle figure below. To the left of the figure,

1

The project particularly engaged with the more radical genealogies of the commons such as those explore by contributors to web journal The Commoner.

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BLEACH Coffee Milk x 4 T-BAGS BAKERS D/food Bog Rolls RiZLA Vimto a shopping list, in black marker, framed by a stepped black outer line. Why xxx xxx xx sack in? The second, third and fourth words of the question blocked out in the same marker pen used to write them. More phone numbers, incomplete and lost with the peeling wallpaper on which they were written. A front on portrait of Predator from the 1987 Schwarzenegger film of the same name, black with red eyes. Smearings of what looks like human excrement in one corner. War. Hate & War. These markings covered the interior walls of the building, lined with damaged, peeling, dirty yellow wallpaper, the kind of luminous yellow that children often draw or paint the sun. By the time the first three people entered the building on Queens Road that would become The Field in 2014, its state of disrepair was beyond habitation and instead what was found were traces such as these. The building had been squatted for many years, but over the course of time it had fallen into an unusable state – half of the roof had collapsed, most of the floor boards had given way to rot, the piping between drain and toilet were backed up to the point of overspill, windows smashed, pieces of a used chemistry set were found scattered across the back room. Areas of the garden were almost head height with waste. White goods, bicycle parts, more chemistry equipment, a toy train set and used syringes were found amongst the discarded items. About halfway down the garden a tent had been put together in a valley formed between two mounds of rubbish using an old tarpaulin and rope. The traces of human inhabitation had entered decay, giving way to new non-human bacterial and fungal ecologies. The building seemed at that point to be characterised in a large part by absences. Once an architect’s office. Once a junk shop. Once a squat. Once a shooting gallery. Once there was a great party there, or so we were told

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later. It had once been various things, at various times and to various lives. But now it was a dumping ground. A space seeking to consume absences, taking in the discards of other lives, other places, other buildings. Becoming the site and embodiment of the excess emergent of an absence elsewhere. The presence that makes absence a possibility. It was perhaps a site of disappearance, an entirely unglamorous component of the City of Disappearances (Sinclair 2006) that sections of London’s literary crowd sought to illustrate around a decade ago through writing – that art which makes use of the absence of that to which it refers in order to (re)present it. All the things this building had once been it no longer was. No longer an architect’s office. No longer a junk shop. No longer a squat. No longer a shooting gallery. No longer a party. No longer inhabitable. At least to us that is. To those who had built it. To those who had squatted it. To those who had partied in it. The bacterial and fungal ecologies were flourishing. Gaining a foot hold. Embarking on that decay that threatens us but nourishes other, non-human, lives. The space had been appropriated from the urban. Situationist and intellectual incendiary Henri Lefebvre (2003) presented the hypothesis that society has become entirely urbanised. That industrialisation had led to everyday life being organised according to the logics and rhythm of urbanisation, with cities serving as the condensed embodiment of capital accumulation. The swelling of the city became a physical expression of the swelling of bank accounts, of their increased importance and their increased size. No longer is city as polis the home of its citizenry, but rather the new city as urban provides a storehouse for industrial capital’s surplus. The excess of capital finds expression in the glass facades of the financial centres. Looking up, the highest points of the skyline are no longer the sacred church spires that would have lined the pilgrimage root from London to Canterbury along the old Anglo-Saxon road that passes only a few metres from this building, but are the glistening peaks of commercial skyscrapers. The political polis is replaced by the economistic urban. The community by economy. The public life of polis superseded by the private life of the oikos, the private household, and the art of oikonomia, the tireless march of economism. And this absence becomes an end result. The post-industrial detritus of Lefebvre’s total urbanisation. The inevitable result of capital’s aggressive appropriation. The post-modern stage of primitive accumulation. The decay

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of the city as it is discarded. The fate of Detroit contained in a one story building just off the Old Kent Road. Both a proof and challenge to Lefebvre’s hypothesis. A proof, because it embodies the ravages of the concentration of capital in the urban and its total disregard for life. A challenge, because it is this very disregard, this lack of care, that assures the self-destruction of the urban as capital’s site of condensation. As one of the situationist and incendiary’s major muses told us many years ago, the limit of capital is capital itself (Marx 1981). So, if the urban is capital’s architectural embodiment, is it also so that the limit of the urban is the urban itself? That same infamous muse’s absence is itself marked by stone in a cemetery in a far more affluent area of the same city in which this building sits. And this muse’s spectral injunction continues to be heard and felt in his absence, in his death, with all the more strength. So what to do with this site of absence, this building seemingly abandoned by the urban expanse? An absence of inhabitation, of use, of political community and consciousness, of parties and the Party, of squats and futures. And what to do with the traces left behind, with the marks on the walls, the rotting mounds of unidentifiable matter, the leaking roof, the broken floors? What to do with the absence of the future marked upon the walls? Still no future? Is appropriation of this appropriation possible? The appropriation of an absence that has itself been born of an appropriation by absence which in turn is a product of primitive appropriations and their eventual discarding. And each of these appropriations create absence elsewhere, in what is left behind in the empty space once occupied by that which is appropriated, in the traces they create. The chain of spectres goes on. If there is no longer a polis, a political community of public life to be found, it is perhaps because it has been consumed by the private sphere of oikos. But this is an oikonomia now entirely given over to the metaphysical enclosure – hedgerow and non-human actor par excellence – capital, the subject and title of that absent muse’s major work (Marx 1986). Perhaps we are in fact ignorant to a contract struck between these non-human actors, between the bacterial and fungal ecologies, and capital itself. Nevertheless, if we are to appropriate this absence, it is not to be through the private realm or the public realm, through the oikos or the polis, but maybe through the common. Perhaps if there is no future for the polis or the oikos we can make one of, for and through the common.

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That same intellectual incendiary who hypothesised that all society was urbanised compelled us to assert our Right to the City, for a “transformed and renewed right to urban life.” (Lefebvre 2000: 158) But what we needed then was not only a transformed and renewed urbanism, but one that was transformative and renewing. One that was future-oriented and active in its cycle of de/re-appropriation. One that was processual and open-ended, that was emergent and responsive. One not only based on injunctive and negative demands against capital, but also on the positive assertion for community and commons – for the commons around which a community can coalesce and for the community which is needed to care for the commons. At a time of increasing privatisation in London, a loss of public space, the withdrawal of state supported services and the rise of political narratives founded in exclusion of the Other and the affirmation of the identity of the Nation, the polis as political community seems to be narrowing. Its increasing absence is being marked by the spectral outsider, the excluded other, the sovereign exception and its corollary Homo Sacer (Agamben 1998). Those who are denied any access to, let alone transformed or renewed by, public life become the points of power’s leverage – the undercommons (Harney and Moten 2013). And so, the city as polis, the public space of politics, seems to lose what potency it might have had in terms of enacting this right to the city. In the urban city, we can no longer ask the polis to do the work of appropriation for us, we can no longer ask it to provide for us, our (re)appropriation needs to be self-organised. So, on entering the building, on stepping across its decaying threshold, what was sought was a way of dwelling in the city that was neither the public community of the polis, nor the private household of the oikos, a way of dwelling in the city that was not under the sovereignty of capital. A way of dwelling amidst the fourfold of the earth, sky, mortals and divinities (Heidegger 2001), beyond the determining dualities of public and private, polis and oikos, state and market. Crossing that threshold, we sought to stand upon the earth which the building was becoming, and reach out to the sky, to the horizon, to the future beyond the scrawlings of no future, beyond the markings on that wall that is the same bright yellow in which children often draw or paint the sun, but the yellow is peeling. What would this form of dwelling be? Must we build in order to allow ourselves once more to dwell? As though we have now stopped dwelling in a place where once it was possible for us to do so, as though we are some-

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how outside of, or separate to this building, the rotting threshold of which we have already crossed. Being across the threshold and within the walls but still outside, unable to reside. We must build in order to dwell. And yet “we do not dwell because we have built, but we build and have built because we dwell, that is, because we are dwellers.” (Heidegger 2001: 146) To build, we must already dwell, we must already reside with these walls, this floor, this decaying ceiling, we must already stand with them amidst the fourfold. It is care that we lack. Not only we the people – those who only now cross the threshold. Rather we the commons – the building, the ground, the city, the absent spectres. All commons require care, they require attention, nourishment and cultivating, and here we find a site lacking in care, a site for which appropriation has taken the form of “the deficient modes of omitting, neglecting, renouncing.” (Heidegger 2010: 57). Our appropriation, that is, our building and dwelling, must find the mode of taking care. “Suzy thinks that commoning is not a concept but an embodied activity that needs time, space and care.” (New Cross Commoners 2013) With Suzy and the other commoners we now stand on the ground within these rotting four walls and fix our sites on the horizon of taking care. Renovating this building is not only a form of construction, but rather a dwelling as building. It is a way of learning to live amidst the city, with one another, and with and beyond the conditions into which we are thrown. Together we explore the possibilities of what this building can be, how we can inhabit it, who can inhabit it, how we can care for it. We explore where we can locate the timber it needs, the skills and thought it needs, the glass and paint and tools and time it needs. Already we dwell in the city differently. We wander the streets looking for discarded materials – pallets, tiles, tools, and other items that have become figures of unnecessary excess and absence for others, but can form the foundation of renewal for us. We learn the most basic carpentry, the most basic decorating and plastering, the most basic construction. And the building learns with us, the knowledge of this learning becoming expressed on its painted walls, in the greenhouse that stands where the mounds of rubbish once stood, in the meetings that take place under the roof that was once only capable of inviting rain. As our thinking grows, the building grows, and the community that is emerging around this common grows with it.

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In the old English common fields the rules were always different depending on local customs and conditions. Each common required its own series of negotiations, its own series of discussions, its own modes of building, dwelling and thinking, its own learning processes. The results of these processes became expressed in the rules and customs that governed access to the commons, that sought to prevent violent and careless appropriations, that installed practices of taking care at the core of the common, that sought careful appropriations that did not overly favour one household, one oikos. These processes sought situations where the general economy (Bataille 1991) and moral economy (Thompson 1971) were not overrun by the private economy. But the rules were always different. There was no monistic general equivalent, no preordained law that could govern the commons. So in each instance, the rules and customs would be created. The selforganisation of the commons, the taking care of the commons, would at each place and at each time require different practices. With this building it is the same: the mould growing on the surface of the walls, the stench emanating from the drain, the gusts of wind blowing in through cracks in panes of glass all inform us that they need attention. Likewise, we learn of the needs and desires of neighbours for a garden to care for, or a place to spend time with their friends without the need to spend money, or simply a place to be lazy right away from the endless roar of the A2, or at least that section of it that is the cheapest brown tile on the Monopoly board, Wæcelinga Stræt as it became called, long after the work of the Romans who first paved the old Briton path to connect London to Canterbury and then on to the channel ports. These needs and desires equally require care to allow them to flourish and be realised, just as those who seek to build this common require care themselves. Just as Suzy reminded us earlier, we cannot forget our bodies. Commoning is embodied and so those bodies also need care just as the walls, the drain and window panes do. When someone pours too much of themselves into the commons without receiving what they need in response we find once again that we are, in part, in those deficient modes of renouncing, omitting, neglecting. It is sometimes called burnout. But that sounds far too passive, as though some kind of standing reserve of energy has simply run out. When the conditions are being learnt in that moment, recreated in that moment, as an ongoing process of negotiation and attempted selforganisation something does not simply run out, it is created.

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So where are we now? Where are we after first crossing that threshold, after attempting to appropriate from absence what was appropriated by absence, after attempting to pull the urban back from the limit of the urban, after struggling to locate and create the conditions for dwelling and taking care? Where are we after spending weeks and months and years cleaning and caring and building and thinking? We have a common and community, but it still requires care. The care never ends. It demands a lot of us, and we still encounter those appropriations by absence. The absence of a friend, a comrade. The absence of a skill or knowledge. The absence of mutual understanding or mutual aid. The absence of the care we need. That Right to the City is not transformed or renewed, as though it now dwells in the past and persists in stable form, but it remains transformative and renewing, it remains an ongoing process of negotiation, thinking and building. Sometimes it satisfies us. Sometimes it makes us scream. Sometimes we do not understand it. But always it requires care. This research was funded by the AHRC CHASE doctoral scholarship.

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B IBLIOGRAPHY Agamben, G. (1998) Homo Sacer: Sovereign Power and Bare Life. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Bataille, G. (1991) The Accursed Share. New York: Zone Books. Harney, S. and Moten, F. (2013) The Undercommons: fugitive planning and black study. Wivenhoe: Minor Compositions. Heidegger, M. (2001) ‘Building, Dwelling, Thinking’. in Poetry, Language, Thought, New York: Harper Collins, 141–60. Heidegger, M. (2010) Being and Time. Albany: State University of New York Press. Lefebvre, H. (2003) The Urban Revolution. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Lefebvre, H. (2000) ‘The Right to the City’. in Writings on Cities. Oxford: Blackwell, 147–59. Marx, K. (1981) Capital: Volume 3. London: Pelican. New Cross Commoners (2013) Coming To-gather. London: Common House. Sinclair, I. (ed.) (2006) London: City of Disappearances. 2nd ed. London: Penguin Books. Thompson, E.P. (1971) ‘The Moral Economy of the Crowd in the Eighteenth Century’. Past & Present, 50 (Feb. 1971), 76–136.

W EBSITES The Commoner [online] http://www.commoner.org.uk/ [last accessed 17 November 2017]

Mapping the Teufelsberg Or, How to Embody History N ATHALIE F ARI

Figure 4: Performance at Teufelsberg

Photo credit: Anton Roland Laub 2016

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Following an invitation from the Teufelsberg association in Berlin, which is dedicated to the preservation of this historical site and the development of an arts and culture program, I carried out the first edition of a Performance Laboratory in collaboration with the author and media theorist Rafael Dernbach and the dancer and producer Petterson Costa. At the core of this laboratory was not only the experimentation with different ways of how to engage the body in performance, but also how to approach a mythical and almost-occupied place such as Teufelsberg (in English: Devil’s Mountain). For most of us, Teufelsberg was a predominantly unknown and rather unreachable place in the city, far away from our personal geographies and experienced pathways. For that reason, we decided to work with the format of a performative expedition – giving us on the one hand, the chance to discover and explore the hidden spots and angles of Teufelsberg, and on the other, the opportunity to establish a context beyond the conventional art and theatre spaces of Berlin. Within this context and through the modes of performance, our goal was to investigate the notions of site specificity, urban ecology and community practice. During eight days in September 2016, a group of artists coming from diverse backgrounds,1 met every day at the S-Bahn Station Grunewald in Charlottenburg in order to walk up together to Teufelsberg (which is about three kilometres away and takes around 30 minutes to reach). Each day, a participant proposed a different walk or way of relating to the group, the passers-by and the surroundings. One of these walks, for example, was a silent and slow one that took us around an hour and a half to complete, but that allowed us to observe and deeply sense the environment of the Grunewald, the largest forest in Berlin. Once we were at Teufelsberg, we spent the rest of the day investigating specific spots within the area as well as executing various physical and writing exercises. The main purpose of these exercises was to question how bodies and spaces can inscribe them-

1

I would like to thank the Performance Laboratory participants: Anna Semenova, Erika Schwarz, Alexandra Lucas, Julia Salem, Juliana Gennari and Hunter Lee Daniel. Without the efforts and engagement of these participants, this Laboratory would not have been possible. I would also like to thank the collaborators Richard Rabensaat, founder of the Teufelsberg association, and Oliver Euchner who gave the five rhythms class.

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selves into each other. How can a space (or a body) become a medium or an agent for stories and histories? And how does an embodied story or history itself become a written history? Considering these questions, we elaborated a program that was not only focused on capturing and mapping the unique history of Teufelsberg, but also on creating a collective narrative. For us, this narrative should be based not only on our impressions of the place, but also on the existing (and imaginary) narratives of Teufelsberg. Because if there is something you cannot find there, is someone without a story to tell. Nowadays, Teufelsberg has become a contested magnet for Berlin’s recent tourism hype.2 The abandoned radar station, the unique view from the highest place in Berlin and the traces of a whole generation of street artists are just some of the reasons for this attraction. At Teufelsberg, “alternative Berlin” seems even more “alternative” and has kept its occult side.3 However, most visitors are unaware of that not only was Teufelsberg a radar station during the Cold War, it is also a result from WWII as it mainly consists of debris from the bombing of Berlin. While the mountain, after the fall of the wall, saw a row of failed and unfinished development initiatives, it also became a place for experiments in alternative living practices. Currently, Teufelsberg is going through an important process of change, involving a public debate whether the place should finally become a public space and a memorial or if it should stay in the hands of the investors and capital speculation.4 In our case, we were one of the first groups that realised a Performance Laboratory at Teufelsberg. The more “common” things that happen there are events by big companies, film and TV shoots, guided tours or special

2

Berlin has seen a rise in tourism tracing the former, divisive conflict between the Western and Eastern Blocs. Due to the fact that Teufelsberg was built during this time period, it has become a coveted (or hidden) spot, even if it is not part of the common city tours (as the area is in the middle of a nature reserve, tourist buses will, for example, never be allowed to drive up to Teufelsberg).

3

The meaning of “alternative”, in this context, is related to the idea that Berlin is, and has always been, a fertile ground for other, rather non-commercial lifestyles. In this regard, Teufelsberg can be seen as one of the few places left in Berlin where it is still possible to try out new and utopian ideas.

4

Since 2016, certain areas of Teufelsberg have been open for the general public (by paying an entrance fee). See the official website for more information.

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concerts in the dome. (Fig. 1) We, as “intruders”, had to adapt completely to the current, still extremely precarious, situation of the place. Beside the small community of artists and adventurers that are trying to build their own infrastructure, there are not any proper places to work, eat or sleep (nor a public toilet).5 At least, we could use a temporary structure, a mobile, tiny wooden house called Allerorten that was installed there for art residencies, as our hub and base. On this basis, we tried to incorporate all these special conditions into our performative expedition and working process. These types of historical, alternative or public spaces have been important frameworks in my practice in order to discuss whether the contemporary body is extensively losing the perception of what it means to be in contact with the environment and other beings, beyond the omnipresence of digital life. This assumption may sound nostalgic at a first glance, or as an attempt to return to the times when humankind was not so affected by (or dependent on) technology. Yet, it is undeniable so that our ways of relating to one another have changed considerably since the introduction of the digital. Specifically, the ability for the body to sense, observe and adapt to a certain locality, social field or condition has become an unpredictable and uncertain territory where the borders between what is real and what is not are blurred. By looking at this current phenomenon, I am not intending to either diminish the value and importance of technology in our society, nor the use of devices in our daily routines. However, to quote Heather Davis and Etienne Turpin (2015: 17): One problem is that we are adapting so quickly to these new terms and conditions, both by shielding ourselves through various technological apparatuses (for those

5

One of the maybe most adventurous happenings of the Laboratory, beside our encounter with wild boars in the forest, was the sleepover at Teufelsberg. As we could not find a place to camp all together (especially because there are other people doing the same), each one of us had to sleep in a separate spot: a tree house, an unfinished studio and at our tiny place of residency as well. This experience did not only give us the chance to inhabit the place for one night, but it also reminded us what an expedition actually means. The day after, we were so tired that I decided to do our body work at the Teufelsberg lake by literally practicing nudism (something that the lake is known for, especially amongst Berlin’s gay community).

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who can afford to do so) and through ingenious survival strategies, that it is often difficult to remark on these new perceptual and sensorial realities.

What I am highlighting here, is that the presence of certain technological apparatuses (such as smart phones), may compromise and confine the whole spectrum of a lived experience – especially if it is meant to be physical or “embodied.” For this reason, I have been pursuing an embodied practice that seeks to enhance our awareness and understanding of ourselves and of the environment, seeing it as an ecological act and a way of intensifying experience. In doing so, I am trying to counteract the application (and sometimes overuse) of technology in these sensorial experiences, through emphasizing the meaning of embodiment. In the words of Ben Spatz (2015: 12): To place embodiment before technology is then to remind ourselves that machines, no matter how powerful their effects, involve us only to the extent that they make contact with our experience through the necessary medium of embodiment.

Thus, since 2010, I have been working with the concept of body mapping. At the core of this concept lies the relationship between the body and space, especially the investigation of how the space might condition the body, and the body the space. Although this relationship has always been intertwined and, to some extent, obvious (since the human condition will always be dependent on the space), there are still many unexplored aspects of it. What can happen in the space “in-between”? Which different incidents can appear between the experiences made inside and outside the body? What kind of bodily language can be found for these incidents? These are some of the questions that are pivotal to me. Here, I am trying to look through this intrinsic space (or frame) by escaping the common ways of explaining and interpreting what takes place in the body or in the space. In this regard, the idea of engendering “frictions” between the body and space, has become an important strategy to keep the experiences as broad as possible, constantly changing the perspectives. In other words, it is about the attempt to dissolve the borders between the subjectivity of the body and the environment by redefining its way to discern, capture and interpret the world. According to Brian Massumi and Erin Manning (2014:10), this could mean that,

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…[you] entered a mode of environmental awareness in which to perceive is to enact thought, and thought is directly relational. This actively relational thinking is also an expression of the field, but in a different mode than storytelling, poetic or not, with no immediate need for language, satisfying itself at a level with the body’s movements.

Attuned to this awareness, the concept of body mapping also serves as an artistic, pedagogical and therapeutic tool to create different cartographies, maps or structures, either from places and social contexts or from personal histories. The main purpose of these cartographies (or maps) is not to produce a direct copy or a detailed inventory of these places, contexts and histories. Instead, it is about inventing a panoply (or assemblage) of all the experienced emotions, sensations, impressions, observations and thoughts. What is more, I have also been using this mapping process as a framework to elaborate site specific and collaborative performances. In the centre of these performances, or moments of interaction, lies not only the approach of embodying the space, but also of the method of “translating” it into a performative language. For this reason, I have been focusing on the idea of training the body as a “translator.” On the one hand, this means that the body is seen as a crossover between the different spaces and contexts and, on the other, as a vessel for all sorts of signs, signals and interpretations. In this respect, the body is not only trained in its ability to observe, listen and adapt to an environment (and metaphorically speaking, to navigate in darkness). More than this, the body should be trained in its effort to find its own gestural language that uncovers the multiple meanings of the outer world by especially being in the mode and state of performance. Consequently, I am interested in the activation of either verbal or non-verbal communication and negotiation processes that help the body to engage both socially and spatially. I believe that in body mapping, the body occupies and appropriates a space by telling stories in it. In this regard, I would like to return to the Performance Laboratory at Teufelsberg by applying this notion of embodiment as a realm to describe some of our experiences. In the words of Tim Ingold (2012: 437): It is not just that bodies, as living organisms move. They are their movements. Therefore, the knowledge they can have of themselves is inseparable from the sense they have of their own movements.

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Thus, I would like to look at these sensory and somatic experiences as a strategy of appropriation and whether it can be seen as an applicable model to embody an historical place such as Teufelsberg. For this, I choose one specific working field of the program: bodywork. This category, that is, the experimentation with particular body or “embodied” techniques, was the central axis of the program and focused especially on the procedure of physical and acting exercises such as, group improvisations, interventions in the space, five rhythms classes, yoga and walks.6 The main purpose of these exercises was not only to collect material and ideas for the design of the performance, but also to create a structure where the history of Teufelsberg could be contemplated from within. In doing so, our main goal was to elaborate a site-specific performance by activating the memory of the place and finding a different approach for such performance. Mike Pearson (2010: 171) defines this type of performance as, …ostensibly predicated upon phenomenological encounter and the demonstration or translation of its effect into forms of physical expression or associated account, the engagement of the performer at site is in essence ergonomic - body-to-environment, body-to-body. A simple premise here might be to regard site, including its existing and temporally installed elements, as workplace.

However, we did not want to use the workplace of Teufelsberg as a site for creating a site-specific performance with the common theatrical means of storytelling. Instead of reproducing a story that already exists in each corner of the place, we wanted to work with the idea of rewriting or, even better, “unwriting” the place. How this might happen, however, seemed quite abstract at first, but there were ways of enabling this vision, for example by seeing the place or workplace as a white surface that hides within its gaps multiple stories. Therefore, we chose to work with the principle of reduction and stillness, i.e. that most of the exercises were directed towards the idea of creating a spatial experience and relationship with the place. By doing this, we decided to also reduce the amount of speaking during the ex-

6

One of the reasons why the focus was put on these techniques and not on others, was not only due to the fact that some of us were trained in them. Besides that, there is a special attribute and link that can be found in all of them: the dissolution of the body-mind duality and thus, the training of an integral practice.

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ercises. This strategy was not only applied to enhance the ability of the body to observe and sense the place, but also as a way to decrease the external amenities and to create a type of silence central to my own personal practice – a silence in which one can learn how to listen to the body and the environment by expanding the notions of space and time. In doing so, we generated a feeling of belonging to the place, even if only temporary. In other words, I would claim that the applied appropriation strategy in this performative and somatic experience may be seen as a model to transform the notion of “site-specificity” itself. One of the prevalent feelings was that not only did the place leave traces in our bodies, but our bodies also left impressions on the place. What the graffiti artists do there every day by imprinting their signatures on the walls, we did by embodying and “performing” the place. We did not extensively change the landscape of Teufelsberg, yet we were able to shift the perspective upon the place by acting not as mere tourists but as temporary inhabitants. This state of being did not allow us to appropriate the Teufelsberg as if it was ours, but at least it drastically changed our physical and mental distance to it. Because the more one overcomes the distances to a place, the more one becomes part of it. With this idea in mind, we presented a final performance for a specially invited audience on the last day of the Laboratory.7 The starting point of this performance was a so-called space script based on the one hand, on the notes, thoughts and drawings that we had collected during the process and on the other hand, on the exercises of the program. After each day, we exchanged our little red notebooks (that we called “passports”) in order to document (or rewrite) our thoughts and experiences made at Teufelsberg. In doing so, the main intention of this script was not only to find a narrative that merged our single voices with the ones found during the course. Besides that, we wanted to create a collective experience in which the audience was invited to take part as well. Therefore, we used the second floor of the Graffiti Museum (where we also had our improvised studio for the bodywork) as a basis to elaborate in total eight scenes (or actions), each one

7

For this occasion, I created a cooperation with the platform Theaterscoutings Berlin (http://theaterscoutings-berlin.de), which is dedicated to the mediation of theatre and performance pieces of mainly the independent scene in Berlin.

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for a different spot of the space. From all these scenes, only the last one was a speech, based on a text by Rafael Dernbach: In ten years Teufelsberg will look different to what it looks right now. A mountain of fragments and speculation will have turned to a mountain of translation and healing. It will have become a space for unclaimed experiences, unclaimed emotions and unclaimed relationships. As the infrastructure is mostly an affective one, there will be a community of curiosity that invites all beings attracted to learn and form and translate. Relate and translate. As such the mountain will have grown from a laboratory for technology for a post-modern, post-industrial, post-machistic world into a laboratory of anticipation, a place that helps and establishes relations. The modern Teufelsberg is about divide, the new mountain about relation. A school of senses and relatedness will be established that hides from the increasingly aggressive flows of capital and opacity.

Finally, I cannot tell with certainty if we really became part of the history, or the on-going historiography, of Teufelsberg. What I can be sure of, however, is that with our sensitive, moving, single bodies and with our embodied practice, we created a meaningful interaction with this place. In the words of Massumi and Manning (2014: 24): The site is in the process of apportioning itself out as the body is apportioning itself to it. The site lands itself for the body as much as the body lands the site. The site stretches between a single, two-way movement of potential. Do not presume to know concretely where the person who makes architectural-body sense lies. She lies in the field of her potential. We cannot define where a body begins and where external nature ends.

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B IBLIOGRAPHY Davis, H. and Turpin, E. (eds.) (2015) Art in the Anthropocene, Encounters Among Aesthetics, Politics, Environments and Epistemologies. London: Open Humanities Press. Ingold, T. (2012) ‘Toward an Ecology of Materials’. The Annual Review of Anthropology 41:427–442. Manning, E. and Massumi, B. (2014) Thought in the act, Passages in the ecology of experience. London: University of Minnesota Press. Pearson, M. (2010) Site-Specific Performance. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Spatz, B. (2015) What a Body Can Do: Technique as Knowledge, Practice as Research. London: Routledge.

W EBSITES Teufelsberg Berlin [online] http://neue.teufelsberg-berlin.eu. [last accessed 17 November 2017]

APPROPRIATION OF NATURE, THE URBAN AND URBAN NATURE(S)

Appropriation of nature, the urban and urban nature(s) Figure 5: Prati della fiera. A grassfield to enable activities. Picture credit: Stellepolari

Picture Credit: Stellepolari

Urban Natures of Appropriation I NTERVIEW WITH M ATTHEW G ANDY BY

M ATHILDA R OSENGREN

The relatively obsolete idea of the mastering of “Nature” by “Man” – that is, its appropriation – is an undertaking that, nevertheless, runs deep into the core of European human history. And the modern city has perhaps been conceived of as the pinnacle of this mastering. However, there seems like the tide is slowly turning on how European cities conceive of themselves (or some would probably like to argue that it has been turning for quite awhile). Instead of domination and segregation, many are now propagating for an integration of other-than-human life into urban planning and so on – such propagation taking its expression in the form of green infrastructure investments, urban gardening projects, sanitation of former industrial wastelands, just to name a few. What are your general thoughts on this changing climate of perception? Matthew Gandy: I think you can say that cities are incubators of different ways of understanding, or incorporating, nature into urban design, architecture, public policy, and other areas. Mainstream environmental thinking has tended to put forward a very dichotomous perception of cities and noncities. Often cities are seen as negative in the context of environmentalist discourse. Here I think it is extremely useful to recuperate, or appropriate, a more nuanced history of cities and different ways of responding to, and understanding, nature. The other thing I might say is that the distinctive culture of cities can generate very progressive attitudes towards, and different

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ways of understanding, nature. So, in a sense, breaking down the urban/non-urban or, if you like, city/rural distinctions are really important and useful. In your work, you have researched and published extensively on landscapes, infrastructures and urban bio-diversity. With this background, how would you, in short, define appropriation in the context of the proliferation of urban nature within cities today? MG: I think it is useful to consider urban natures in a plural context, not an urban nature but a diversity of urban natures. There is a spectrum of appropriations, which can range from material appropriations – more recently the way in which specific pockets of nature have been incorporated into urban design in extremely interesting ways, like Park am Gleisdreieck [in Berlin], for example – to very symbolic appropriations such as the “wasteland aesthetic” [and] the use of nature or ecology in terms of the marketing of architectural projects. So, I think it is useful to think of urban nature as this diversity of potential appropriations, which also have political implications: from more inclusive or sensitive responses to urban nature, to attempts to simply use nature, or symbols of nature, as part of the speculative dynamics of capitalist urbanisation. Would you say there may be times when urban nature, or natures, can be appropriators? That is, themselves being agents through appropriating space? I have thought of this, for example, in the context of wastelands where, over time, “natural” worlds have been able to completely take over urban areas… MG: Yes, I think that is an extremely interesting question. There has been this longstanding tension in relation to the relationship between nature, space and time. If you go back to even the 19th century, there are futuristic novels that imagined cities disappearing and the return to nature, After London by Richard Jefferies is just one example amongst several. And then, through the 20th century, you have a number of novels, which imagine the scenario in which nature not only returns but effectively takes over. There is this longstanding fascination with the relationship between nature and the ruins of modernity, both aesthetic and also, of course more recently, scien-

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tific as well. So, there is this very interesting relationship between the spontaneous dynamics of nature and what we understand urban space to be, both materially and symbolically. I think this tension shows in your documentary Natura Urbana – The Brachen of Berlin, concerning wastelands in Berlin. The film provides an intriguing example of the great socio-cultural, politico-historical, as well as ecological, importance that these spaces of urban nature may hold. For me, it also shows appropriation as an essentially open-ended process, with both humans and other-than-humans crafting out new potential, alwaysevolving ways of urban living in so-to-say “wasted” spaces. How do you think doing away with a sense of permanency in the urban landscape may affect urban dwelling more generally? MG: There is something of an implicit tension here, between the idea of protecting say particular neighbourhoods from the pressures of gentrification and wanting things to essentially remain the same, and also accommodating the inherent dynamism, not just of cities but also of ecological structures and processes. Sometimes this [tension] is played out in specific sites. For example, in relation to the Tempelhof former airfield [in Berlin], there is this tension between people who simply want to develop the site and then others who want it to remain exactly the same. But any site that is left progresses ecologically, aesthetically, and symbolically through a series of phases, so nothing can remain the same. And one of the real challenges in terms of urban ecology and urban landscapes is whether you can mediate between these opposite poles of simply things being lost completely or maintained in a state of suspended animation, in a way, to keep the maximum range of interesting interactions both ecologically, socially and culturally. Perhaps a good example of an attempt to interlace these different urban strands is the Flussbad project. According to one of its founders, Jan Edler, the appropriation and re-articulation of a slice of the Spree, from a water of functionality to essentially a water of leisure, should be seen as both a social, as well as an ecological, incentive. You have touched on this already, but perhaps you can say a bit more about how you position yourself in this balancing act between ecology and the social in the city?

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MG: I think the relationship between water and cities, or between water and urban spaces, is very interesting. Obviously, historically, water was relegated to a more functional component of cities: transport networks and then drinking water, waste water etcetera. But more recently there has been a kind of rediscovery of water as a source of leisure and there has also been this pressure towards the speculative dynamics of waterside developments in post-industrial spaces, and so on. But, specifically in relation to leisure, we can find some of these tensions going back further in time. In the Weimar era, there was a tension around Berlin’s lakes (which were absolutely critical for leisure). There were increasing development pressures around the shorelines of lakes and a restricting of public access to the, if you like, “natural beauty” of the metropolitan region. The chief planner Martin Wagner, in the Weimar era, successfully stopped these developments and opened up public access to lakes in Berlin, as part of a democratic approach to urban nature, something I think which remains very relevant today. So, when you hear about initiatives to enable public access to water or lakes within an urban context, one of the first questions for me is whether this is free access: Is it genuinely open to all the people of the city or is it a restrictive approach to urban nature? That, for me, is the critical aspect in relation to leisure and water. The other thing to quickly mention, in relation to water and swimming in cities, is that, in terms of leisure facilities, swimming pools are very expensive to operate and maintain and, in terms of municipal access to leisure, they are one of the most vulnerable kinds of leisure facilities within cities. So, it is extremely revealing, actually, what kind of opportunities exist for people to interact with water within cities. In the past, you have written comprehensively about this socio-cultural and political role of urban water. As a pure speculation, how do you think a project such as the Flussbad one could affect the city of Berlin and its inhabitant? Positively, negatively or perhaps both? MG: I feel ambivalent about it. In a sense, it is an oddity to me because Berlin has one of the most extraordinary landscapes of any city that I know, in terms of lakes in the landscape – which enable people to choose from hundreds of different opportunities to swim for free in and around the city. From that point of view, it is something of an oddity because it is not as if there are not any opportunities to enjoy open-air swimming within the city.

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So, possibly a question from me would be: What are the precise motivations behind the project? Is it part of the touristic gaze or the refashioning of Berlin as a kind of global city in a very particular way? Is it a grassroots, bottom-up initiative to improve access? Is it a gimmick that is related to other projects elsewhere, with different agendas? The landscape architect duo, Stellepolari, argue that a large part of their work is to “encourage [...] possible spontaneous appropriations” through detecting who are the actors in a certain space and then working with them. And, as Stellepolari’s work shows, when looking at the urban it quickly becomes clear that these actors are not just human but also other-thanhuman. Do we then perhaps need an expanded definition of spatial appropriation, as one not solely bound to human intentionality but also, say for example, relationality as well as seasonality? What are your thoughts on this? MG: I think one of the most interesting aspects of urban design in recent years is this emphasis on the spontaneous dynamics of nature and this has partly emerged from radical approaches to gardens and park design, the French designer Gilles Clément features very prominently here. There is a sense in which the different patterns of agency can be incorporated directly into different conceptualisations of what landscape design or urban space can actually be, and I think this is extremely interesting because it is combining aesthetic and scientific strands in a new kind of synthesis. But this kind of synthesis needs to find its own audience and it is not always obvious how to proceed. So, in the case of Parc Henri Matisse that Gilles Clément was closely involved with in Lille, there was actually some opposition, or even hostility, to aspects of the park design because it was really framed as a scientific experiment for an “urban ecological refugia” within the heart of the city, and it is actually not always so easy to convey quite complicated or sophisticated ideas in an urban design context. Nevertheless, I think that the debate has evolved and developed, we have different examples, like the Park am Gleisdreieck that we spoke about earlier, which I think explicitly does try to incorporate these elements of non-design within the context of a new municipal park. But, you could also argue that the current interest in non-design might be related partly to a kind of aesthetics of fiscal austerity or crisis, and the inability to have la-

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bour intensive municipal landscapes that we had in the past. Another underexplored facet of this is street trees, which are in a state of crisis because they are extremely expensive to maintain. So, some aspects of a typical, labour-intensive municipal landscape are under the threat of disappearing, whereas other responses are being incorporated into the aesthetics of landscape design. It also seems like municipalities in many parts of Europe are turning to private investments in order to be able to afford such upkeep of parks, thus finding a commercial value in them to pay for their maintenance but, in the process, making them into theme parks instead of public green spaces. This friction is something that the Humboldt University of Berlin’s Impact Lab touches upon in their initiative “Green City - Just City?”. A collaboration between the law and the social sciences faculties, the Lab’s students dealt with projects concerning urban wilderness, green space and park redevelopments in Berlin, and the large contradictions between public and private that lay therein. Many times, there seems to be this clash between what local residents and the municipality or private interests want. For me, this sort of conflict in urban green areas highlights questions such as: What does “public” actually mean and who is it public for? How do publicprivate ventures really work? And who is actually the appropriator here and what is being appropriated? MG: Yes, in a sense, every public space is expected to have a business plan, and this is potentially quite problematic. An example is the East Reservoir in Hackney, East London, which is part of London’s water supply system and a site that I know very well through ecological survey work. It has recently reopened as Woodberry Wetlands, which is a specific kind of nature park but it has a business plan and consequently there are restrictions on activities, or at least activities are expected to be revenue generating. There is a café, there are these wooden boardwalks and so on that have been set up, and a lot of the money has come from a so-called 106 Agreement in relation to a major luxury housing estate, which is now adjacent to the nature reserve. So, we have a contradictory dynamic now with, of course, massively enhanced light pollution on the reed beds and bat populations [in the area], which were supposed to be the reason for the creation of the nature park in the first place!

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And, if you look at the landscape, you have what was already there now being revamped into something different. The luxury housing developments overlook a green space and therefore their values are enhanced. In regard to the nature of the landscaping, although it is extensively a public space, you are nevertheless immediately confronted with information about access times, rules [and] a sort of panopticon aesthetic so that, with the various walkways and the like, you are always in the context of feeling somewhat overlooked. There is clearly a contradiction between a scientific understanding of why a site might be interesting and this broader, kind of generic design impetus. [And this] is reflected in these developments that could be [found] more or less anywhere – there do not seem to be any context specific aspects to them. Parts of the problem here is that, particularly in the London case, it is very hard to get small amounts of money to keep spaces in a sufficient state to just enable everyday interactions. Projects have to be ramped up in terms of getting large inputs of money, to do visible things that are not necessarily even needed. It is very difficult to protect a site with very minimal intervention. That becomes quite a difficult argument to sustain. In order to not end on a too sombre note, as a conclusion, is there anything that you would like to add? MG: I guess the main point that I would like to make is that urban nature is very heterogeneous, it is complex, it has multiple histories, meanings, appropriations. And I think resisting the impetus towards utilitarian enclosures, in a contemporary context, is very interesting and revealing about the underlying structures and tensions within urban space. In relation to urban nature, we are very much talking about not only connected corridors but also vulnerable islands within the urban fabric, such as cemeteries, for example, as well as wastelands. All in all, I think we need to develop a much more nuanced and multifaceted way of understanding metropolitan nature.

Flussbad Berlin Reclaiming the Spree Canal in Central Berlin J AN E DLER

Figure 6: Museumsinsel

Photo credit: Flussbad e.V.

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The idea for the Flussbad project was developed in 1997 by Jan Edler and Tim Edler, two artists and architects who also happen to be brothers. They published their concept for the first time in 1998, initially as a charming yet unrealistic approach to the development of Berlin’s inner-city area. Motivated by increased international recognition, the Edler brothers founded the non-profit association Flussbad Berlin e.V. to implement the project. In 2014, the association carried out a technical feasibility study (published in 2015), which confirmed the technical viability of the project. The same year, the Flussbad Berlin project began receiving funding as part of the National Urban Development Projects programme organised by the German federal government and the Berlin Senate Department for Urban Development and Housing.1 In 2017, Germany’s Council for Sustainable Development granted its Projekt Nachhaltigkeit (Project Sustainability) quality designation to the Flussbad project.

O NE

CANAL , THREE PROJECT SECTIONS

The Flussbad Berlin project seeks to convert and enliven the largely unused Spree Canal in the central district of Berlin-Mitte. The project has manylayered ambitions, its two key objectives, however, are to clean a section of the river and establish direct public access to the canal. The idea is to create an open space for all Berliners and visitors to swim in a clean, uncontaminated body of water that runs along the Museum Island between the Humboldt Forum and the Bode Museum, at the heart of the city. The project foresees filtering the water in the upper section of the Spree Canal in a natural way, thus simultaneously transforming it into an ecological water landscape. The Flussbad project area extends over 1.8 kilometres, which is the full length of the body of water referred to as the Kupfergraben Spree Canal.

1

In November 2014, the Flussbad Association received funding totalling €4 million from the German federal government and Berlin state government as part of their National Urban Development Projects programme. This funding is designed to allow the association to further develop the project idea until the end of 2018 and also to generate the political will necessary to see the project through.

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This canal branches off from the broader main Spree River at Fischerinsel in a southwestern direction and re-enters the main Spree River at the Bode Museum. When water traffic was transferred to the main Spree River in 1894, the canal lost its original function as a highly-frequented transport and supply route. It lost all further meaning as a traffic waterway in the mid-1930s with the closure of the last remaining lock for small sports boats. Today, the canal serves almost exclusively as a repository for flood waters and wastewater. The Flussbad project seeks to change this situation, that is, to open up the canal space over its entire length as a recreational gathering area for the general public. The ultimate goal is to encourage Berlin’s residents and visitors to actively experience nature in their city. The project envisages creating three distinct sections in the canal: The first section starts in the upper part of the canal at Fischerinsel. The Flussbad will redesign and transform the area between Inselbrücke and Gertraudenbrücke into an ecological regeneration space for flora and fauna. Shallow water zones with abundant greenery will surround floating walkways along the riverbanks. By partially removing the concrete riverbank walls, the project will give pedestrians access to the canal space via lush green embankments. The result will be an upgrade in the quality of the riverside area, which is home to a residential neighbourhood. In the project’s second section, referred to as the filter area, a plant filter at the Friedrichsgracht will stretch over 300 metres and serve to clean the polluted water. Powered solely by the difference in water levels at the existing weir in the canal, this filter will “press” the water downwards through 80 centimetres of gravel sediment where the microorganisms living there will clean the water naturally. The purified water will then be collected in the drainage layer located underneath and funnelled into the swimming area on the other side of the Schleusenbrücke. The third section extends over roughly 825 metres between the existing weir at the Foreign Office and the Bode Museum at the north-western tip of the Museum Island. This section has a total area of 23,700 square metres. The idea here is to build a large open staircase that makes the canal accessible to all – not just to swim but also as a place to meet and hang out by the water. The swimming area will be sectioned off from the main Spree River at the northern tip of the project area at the Bode Museum by means of an end weir. This weir will prevent any return flows of non-purified water into the swimming area.

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DOES THE WATER NEED TO BE CLEANED IN THE FIRST PLACE ?

As it approaches Berlin, the water of the Spree River usually is of a relatively high quality. That is to say, that in spite of some pollution from agriculture and mining, the water is usually clean enough to swim in. For example, before it reaches Berlin, the Spree River runs through a lake called the Müggelsee, which almost always has bathing water quality. The actual contamination of the Spree takes place only as it reaches Berlin. In other words, pollution here is a “homemade” problem. Both the main Spree and the Spree Canal are periodically polluted as a result of overflows from Berlin’s combined wastewater system – with serious consequences for the ecological balance of the river. Roughly 15 to 25 times per year, the rainwater that flows into the wastewater system exceeds the capacity of the pipes, so that their contents are routed together with wastewater from Berlin households – which includes faecal matter, rinsing residues and hygienic products – untreated into the river. The Spree then becomes so polluted that direct contact with the water can lead to grave health risks for humans and, what is more, this process also has the potential to cause the death of a large numbers of the river’s fish stock. After such overflow, it takes several days for the river to recover from the massive influx of wastewater. As part of the Flussbad project, this highly polluting discharge will be effectively cleaned by the plant filter so that people can swim and bathe in the filtered water without any danger to their health.

O BJECTIVES AND POTENTIAL OUTCOMES : S OCIO - CULTURAL , HISTORICAL AND ECOLOGICAL As mentioned in the introduction, the goals of the Flussbad project are manifold. In concrete terms, the objective is to make the Kupfergraben accessible as a bathing area in summer and, for example, as a space for ice sports in winter. A rededication of the Kupfergraben into a space for all members of society would expand and strengthen the public sphere in the historic district of Mitte and also extend the spectrum of ways in which to make good use of the space. This gain is especially valuable considering the fact that Mitte has undergone a heavy densification process since the

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1990s, as a result of an influx of new residents, and simultaneous lost plenty of informal recreational spaces. Creating access to the water would increase the quality and attractiveness of the existing open spaces on and around the canal along the entire length of the project area. Furthermore, the Flussbad project would generate a brand-new range of potential uses that would complement the current functionality of Berlin’s so-called “historic centre.” It would upgrade the somewhat limited range of uses that currently exist at this site. Formerly a playground for the middle classes, the Flussbad project presents an entirely different usage for the site and seeks to encourage participation by all social classes – a characteristic that sets it apart from the usages that currently dominate the district. Accordingly, the project has a highly symbolic power that goes beyond the concrete re-appropriation of an area of a city. This symbolism comes into play in the project section found on the Museum Island where it touches sections of the official Berlin World Heritage Site. In the 19th and 20th centuries, the area was used in a unique way to depict key social values and themes as well as to showcase social identities – and it is still used in this way today. Some examples are the Palace, the Lustgarten and the Humboldt Forum. Consequently, tremendous opportunities lie in setting up the Flussbad project at this location. We have the possibility to present a series of new key themes and values, ones that are communicated by the project and carried out by a broad social consensus. These themes and values include a dialogue between different social groups, mutual acknowledgment, participation and civic regard and the idea of making it possible to experience both Berlin’s different historical layers first-hand and the potential of a sustainable city. The fact that these values are shared and shown in this location grants them even further status and recognition. Indeed, we believe that, when a section of Berlin that is currently disproportionately characterised by the depiction of traditional values becomes clearly integrated into the quest for a city and a society of the future, the result is the strengthening of the relevance of both the location and the values it currently represents. In its close spatial relationship to several leading museums, the World Heritage Site, other protected areas and buildings such as the Humboldt Forum – all of which are visible signs of a programmatic orientation towards the past – the Flussbad project represents a groundbreaking approach that creates a highly exciting and challenging superimposed image of the place. The Flussbad embodies both an orientation to-

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wards the past and a relationship to the present and future, and it encourages a use of public space that focuses heavily on the body, physical movement and nature. It sheds light on the parallels contained in ideas about awareness and appreciation, and these are displayed simultaneously here in all important aspects. Indeed, the appreciation of the World Heritage Site and its architectural monuments does not decline when the enjoyment of the Spree as a natural resource is added to the mix. On the contrary, the appreciation for traditions will no doubt grow even stronger as a result. Thus, the Flussbad will facilitate new perspectives and additional opportunities to get closer to these cultural institutions and protected monuments. The Flussbad project also represents positive opportunities for Berlin with regard to sustainable urban development. The functional and mutual impact of the project’s interlinked components is entirely manageable and helps to convey a clear impression of sustainable spheres and chains of effect. An important component of the Flussbad project is the idea of communicating the link between environment-related investments in the modernisation of wastewater infrastructure and the resulting increases in the quality of life and the environment in the city. The project wants to make it possible for people to comprehend and experience this link in a tangible manner as up-close and personal as possible. According to the guidelines contained in the European Water Framework Directive (EWFD), Berlin is obliged to undertake measures to improve the ecological quality of the Spree in the coming years. The Flussbad project would contribute to the implementation of these guidelines, most specifically in regard to the underwater topography near the Fischerinsel. In fact, as mentioned earlier, the section of water between Inselbrücke and Gertraudenbrücke will be transformed into an ecological regeneration zone for flora and fauna, converting this part of the Spree River into a socalled “ecological stepping stone.” In addition to filtering the water, the Flussbad project also seeks to prevent any future channeling of untreated wastewater into the Spree Canal. In the Kupfergraben area, this can be seen as a preliminary measure within Berlin’s overall efforts regarding the subject of combined wastewater. In other words, it is a measure that the State of Berlin will have to undertake anyway at some point in the near future. In conclusion, the project thus functions as a readable schematic in which many of the core aspects and principles of sustainable urban development are depicted. In other words, due to its unique location, the

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Flussbad comes to embody the very principle of sustainability. Here, we see sustainability as an all-encompassing approach that includes economic and social elements. At its core is the notion that combinations and exchanges of interest are possible and beneficial on several levels, countering the idea that reality must be dissected into individually ordered spatial areas or grouped into separate sections of meaning and function.

Where Context Meets Content(s) Stellepolari Landscape Architecture G RETA C OLOMBO AND L ORENZA M ANFREDI

Figure 7: Dysfunctional spaces as experimental public spaces – former chicken coops in Blanca.

Photo credit: Stellepolari

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I NTRODUCTION In this paper, we would like to present the recent works of our collaborative practice Stellepolari Landscape Architecture, and its contribution towards the changing paradigm of the role of the contemporary landscape architect. As designers of space, landscape architects work on qualitative, built environments. Nevertheless, we believe that the creation and modification of space involve abilities that, more than just realizing physical transformations, are about initiating and coordinating processes. Primarily, this means understanding the largely overlapping parameters and qualities that are present in the same space, even if they are often controversial, ambiguous and contradictory. We believe and work along the premises that the landscape architect should play a discrete role, working with minimal or invisible interventions. Thus, offering an appropriated reading and interpretation of space itself and of its social, geographical and economical wider context, and consequently allowing for and encouraging possible spontaneous appropriations. Following this approach, we focus on questions such as: Who are the actors of appropriation and how is it possible to stimulate change? Is “Nature” – the “classical” object of modification in the landscape planning activity, and in this sense perceived as predominantly passive – a possible actor, playing a role in modifying a territory in a specific direction? How can we communicate to different entities (humans and other-than-humans alike) the feeling of being welcome in a space through the conformation of the space itself? We define “Nature” as more than its natural elements. We see it as a flow, a process in movement, something happening actively that literally makes a space full of life. Both in urban and rural contexts, “Nature” can make use of space by occupying and filling it, and the landscape architect may help to discern those spatial potentialities. The landscape architect can play a connective part between the contrasting potentials of each context and of its actors or users, initiating practices and creating spaces rich of possibilities. Two points of reference are important for us and accompany us through all our projects: Tempelhofer Feld in Berlin and the night sky.1 Firstly, dur-

1

The Tempelhofer Feld is a public park of approximately 386 hectares, bordering the districts of Neukölln, Kreuzberg and Tempelhof in Berlin. The further

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ing the past couple of years, Tempelhofer Feld has been a continuous generator of inputs and original ideas for us regarding activities being made possible in a public space. Next to the ones that traditionally take place in a public park, here we have witnessed many unusual situations, such as skate sailing practices, exceptional meetings or ceremonies, political round tables, picnics on straw bales and people dancing to swing music on a square of linoleum in the middle of the park. The area is organized and cared for through very minimal and non-invasive planning – as if it were owned by nothing and nobody. Maybe that is why it is able to be a container of a wealth of imaginaries, filled with the most unexpected ideas. Secondly, the night sky is significant to us for many reasons but chiefly as a tool of construction. While working on landscapes, we always try to retain and utilize all the possible elements that play a role in the creation of a space. Thus, we do not only work with the physical qualities of a space, but also with the intangible ones. Even if the sky is not an element of evident interaction with the project, it is always present and may be taken into consideration for inspiring transformations. For example, a possible intervention could deal with the modalities we use to look at the sky, reflect on the way we experience it, or benefit from the unique imaginary that the night sky carries in itself. The ever-changing cloudy sky of Amsterdam evokes a completely different world to the pastel rose and green vault of Venice. At the same time, the image of a starry night evokes the fact that, even when we work in local and small scale contexts, each place is part of a bigger system. It highlights an aspect central to our practice: that a landscape can be thought of as a constellation of elements, peoples, ideas and relations. Finally, looking up at the sky is also a call for a wider imagination. It reminds us to push the creation of possible imaginaries further, beyond what is expected by traditional landscape planning.

development of a construction plan in a part of the former military airport site has been blocked by a referendum promoted by the initiative 100% Tempelhofer Feld in 2014.

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A DDRESSING

CONTENTS BY REVEALING INVISIBILITIES

As a young practice, we try to experiment and develop our understanding of landscape architecture in different contexts. In the two examples we present here, we carried out deep and creative spatial analyses, which then were expanded upon in the projects. In this way, the final results – whether a physical intervention or an elaboration of imaginaries – represent at the same time our understanding of the place and our proposals for transformation. The first project relates to an area in the town of Treviso, Italy, and came about through a workshop at the Fondazione Benetton that we attended as participants in June 2016.2 We named it Prati della Fiera. The one hectare space we investigated is illegally used (though with the city administration’s tacit consent) as a parking place. Yet the space still “contains” the memories of how it was until the late 1960s, when it was a field of grass encircled by public housing. Here, we first tried to research, collect and represent all the images and emotions present in the space: the memories of elderly people who used to play in the field as kids, the voices of their mothers calling them to come in for lunch, the controversial issue of the (il)legality of the parking lot, the presence of an annual fair and so on. The second step was to represent all the activities that we imagined being able to take place here – instead of the present mono-functional use of a parking lot. We started out by asking: How can we make the shift from memories to imaginaries? The most difficult obstacle appeared to be the lack of perspective of the inhabitants. The image of the ancient grassland was so stuck in

2

Fondazione Benetton Studi e Ricerche is a cultural institution in Treviso, Italy. At the Foundation, the Landscape Study Center carries out a wide range of educational and research activities, such as organizing conferences, seminars, field trips, experimental labs on life and the shape of places, as well as publishing several publications on the matter. The project we present here was elaborated in the frame of the international workshop “Prato della Fiera. Treviso, il Sile e il paesaggio di un grande spazio pubblico” led by Georges Descombes, Anna Lambertini and Luigi Latini with the coordination of Simonetta Zanon and is partly a result of a group work.

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their mind that nobody could produce a different proposition than the former setting of a hay field used for pasture and for an annual carnival fair. The challenge was to help them to explore the actual needs of their neighbourhood community and to graft some possible scenarios corresponding to their daily perception of this space. Eventually, we chose not to suggest a specific use of the land but to show the importance of change to be allowed to happen in this place, hoping that this would encourage the development of a mostly-absent discussion regarding this underused and disregarded area. So, we tried to avoid getting lost in the complexity of actors and voices present in the space, in order to give legibility to the contents, memories and dreams that were somehow “squeezed” between the parked cars. The removal of the already-damaged asphalted surface would allow grass to grow once more, and this would be enough for activities to gradually start to unfold in the space again. (Fig. 5) Here, as so often happens, the role of the landscape architect was in clear opposition to that of the role of the planner or the building contractor, as the former’s principal goal was to enable a dialogue with the site in a new way. Instead of keeping on adding exogenous elements, in order to let the space evolve in a spontaneous manner, we suggested a slight modification of its current state: a basic scarification and compaction of the newly permeable surface, which would allow for the spontaneous appropriation by “Nature” in the form of a variety of grasses and herbaceous pioneer plants. Against the perfectly homogeneous green lawn, normally so prized by official planners (and also by some citizens), we proposed a more sustainable, contemporary and fully accessible/enjoyable/usable/long-lasting field. This rough and resistant grassland could become a place of surprises, provoked and regulated by the spontaneous cycles of nature: the colourful flow of seasonal blossoming, the growth and disappearing of annual plants, the appearing and disappearing of water according to rain and relative humidity – in this case, the irregularity of the ground would allow the appearing of puddles and wet spots – and the creation of a still unknown urban biodiversity on the site. In terms of uses, we did an exercise of “un-planning” where we worked on different (even utopian) possibilities through just preparing the space for future appropriations, instead of allocating or organizing functions. The final outcome of this reflection was the production of images able to suggest potential situations. Thus, we did not plan any precise process, but we offered a first stimulation for possible processes to start.

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Our second project, Back to Life was a workshop we curated together with AADK Spain.3 It took place during ten days in September 2016 and was part of a larger project called La Peña Negra,4 in the town of Blanca. We organized this international event in order to produce reflections and develop approaches that could play a role in the activation of this specific context. It was an important occasion to test a variety of artistic methods in an attempt to generate a sensible analysis of the site and its complexity. In order to do so, we invited young professionals from different disciplines to hold daily workshops as tutors. In the call for participants, we looked for people interested in applying a creative approach without being constricted to a “category” – an artist or a student, an architect or a sociologist, everybody would contribute with his or her own sensibilities. The workshop focused on a peripheral part of the city, between the castle on the mountain top and the modern city, an area characterized by the presence of the ruins of former chicken coops. ( F ig. 7 ) Th o ugh frequented daily by the city dweller in the past, the area was now in a state of decay and had become a sort of dead part of the city. Thus, it was now a very fragile space that had lost all its functions. Exploring the area, we discovered its evocative character, the relatively high passage of tourists on their way to the castle, and its structured conformation. Nevertheless, we had to admit that the space, completely in ruins, was certainly not a pleasant place. After a phase of exploration and context analysis (with the experimentation of different methods like video making, mapping, construction with local materials and ephemeral installation on site), we developed a project with the help from the guest professors Thilo Folkerts and Enrique Nieto. Here the team of AADK,5 was a funda-

3

AADK (Aktuelle Architektur Der Kultur) is an artists’ network based in Berlin. In 2012, performer and visual artist Abraham Hurtado founded AADK Spain, settling at Centro Negra (Blanca, Spain) to work in a rural context. Seeing the potentialities of this particular surrounding, Hurtado and the AADK provided valuable insights during the workshop.

4

Through the La Peña Negra project, AADK “[...] wish[es] to recover an abandoned heritage, to create a space for integrating different communities, create access to contemporary culture in the rural area, and create new local economies with a global perspective.” (AADK Spain)

5

The team included Abraham Hurtado, Juan Conesa and Elena Azzedin.

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mental interlocutor as both context experts and as organizers of encounters with the local community.6 Our main intent was to show that using a sensible approach and working on place may be the first step to anchor a project in its context and lay the basis for meaningful content-creation. First, wanting to consider the ruins as a homogeneous area but also looking at each chicken coop as an architecture with an identity of its own, we produced an “observational masterplan.” Here, the imaginary of a house with many rooms helped us to name and emphasize the inner character of each unity. We also settled some general concepts in order to organize the project and give us some guidelines on how to approach this complex site. These were as follows: 1) to use what is already on the site; 2) to consider things in their totality; 3) to re-organize for a better use; 4) to allow for multiple uses without giving a specific function; 5) to be open to others and to the otherness. In this way, we worked on mainly two areas. The first area was what we called the “Welcome Area,” a ruin formed by three rooms, which we conceived as three future “containers”: for nature, for humans and for remains. We described this concept in different situations, from the present to various steps of a future evolution of possible appropriations and transformations. We imagined building a first room as a sort of cage to collect the rubble when cleaning the other spaces and to stock materials for future use. Also, we wanted to test the idea of reusing materials to prepare the site to host “Nature.” Faced with the impossibility of sowing any kind of seeds, we needed to invent a way to improve the very dry ground (mainly residues of rubble) to a more suitable condition for vegetation growth. In order to avoid any waste of time and human resources, we developed a sustainable

6

We would like to thank the tutors and participants of the workshop for their efforts, ideas and great work. Thank you, Sverre Aune, Roberto Carrasco, Jana Doudova, Giuliana Elia, Elena Ferrari, Jesús Sánchez Díaz-Hellín, Sarika Jhawar, Lorenz Krauth, Marta Martini, Jorge Bermejo Pascual, and Pier Alessio Rizzardi.

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method based on recycling already locally existing materials. We imagined selecting the broken materials already in place and re-organizing them in layers by dimensions of texture. This way we could create a new intelligent stratigraphy that might allow for rain to be collected during the spring period. And with this improved water retention, pioneer plants might start to colonize the former rubble ground and initiate the process of spontaneous “natural” appropriation. In the “Storage Room,” the second area we worked on, we found a chaotic space full of materials and trash in a ruin right beside ADDK’s headquarters, the Centro Negra. The first approach was to clean up. We catalogued and selected what was there and what could still be useful in order to define a more functional organization to storage materials in the space. The new set up and the cleaner place already felt more spacious and inviting for different uses. The current situation was such that the locals rarely climbed the many steps that were the only link between the city and La Peña Negra, and the narrow calles were almost only frequented by the artists in residence in the Centro and some stray dogs. So, we started to “repair” this space. The broken and irregular pavement impeached the lingering in the space and we decided to build more horizontal surfaces and some steps to reach a newly discovered upper level. The entrance door became the protagonist that highlighted the role of this storage space. We locked it in its open position to suggest the openness and public quality of this space, a space that people should feel free to enter and use in obvious as well as creative ways. We finished the ten days of work with a public presentation of the workshop and with a guided tour of the spaces, inviting citizens and the municipality of Blanca to walk through the ruins and the transformed area. During this event, we showed one possible setting with artistic installations and staged spaces displaced in the Storage Room.

T HE

MODEST PROJECT

As we have shown with the projects accounted for here, our practice and interventions rarely change the physicality of spaces. Our work on contents is a very delicate research that tries to read the characteristics of each space, without the intention to express any kind of judgement or to change the space for a better one. We see the potentialities of the projects in allowing

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for a latent or hidden change to express itself, like observing the existing reality through a magnifying glass. As part of a new generation of landscape architects, we are aware of the fast-changing world we are working in and how the current difficulty in relying on established theories is deeply interconnected with the increasing trust in the power of marginal situations and micro transformations. Temporality and adaptability play a strong role here. We live in, and experience, dynamic urban environments in our daily lives and we can easily observe how the original functions of practical interventions – meant to endure the test of time – succumb to deterioration, abandonment or change, and sometimes becoming something more original and interesting than what was initially planned. Accepting time, imaginaries and spontaneous change as ingredients of a practice that intend to modify space is, for sure, a challenging and arduous exercise and overall a slow process. Nevertheless, we firmly believe that analysing each occasion and space with appropriate and sensitive methods, developing complex investigations and discussing in multidisciplinary groups, to be a satisfying strategy of work. Each site can be a place for appropriation, the aforementioned Tempelhofer Feld and the night sky are prime examples of this. Working with the special characteristics of contexts allows us to each time find and explore our tools and techniques in a continuous experimentation. We work with natural ephemerality, with the movement of the body through the space, with the human senses, with perceptions and situations – sometimes creating surprises and unexpected events, other times improving usual activities already present on the site. Each project is for us a new story, and as a story it needs to be told in the appropriate way. It might need time to be composed and to appear, but this modest approach seems to us to be a responsible way to work on public space.

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W EBSITES 100% Tempelhofer Feld [online] http://www.thf100.de/start.html [last accessed 17 November 2017] AADK Spain ‘La Pena Negra’ [online] http://aadk.es/negra/ [last accessed 17 November 2017] Fondazione Benetton Studi Richerche [online] http://www.fbsr.it/ [last accessed 17 November 2017]

Urban Appropriation at the University The Impact Lab “Green City – Just City?” B EATRICE W ALTHALL AND T ILMAN R EINHARDT

Figure 8: Land der Zäune

Photo credits: Beatrice Walthall and Tilman Reinhardt

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I NTRODUCTION This paper presents the Impact Lab “Green City – Just City?”, a novel teaching format at Humboldt University of Berlin, as an innovative form of urban appropriation through knowledge production. In the Impact Lab students from different disciplines (law, geography and resource management) investigate how various interest groups (civil society groups, business, administration) each claim their “right to the city” by offering practical support to them. Support can be given through legal analysis, research and interviews, as well as more “hands-on” approaches. The Lab focusses on “green” projects, which at first sight may appear non-combative, yet have proven to be of critical importance in dense metropolitan areas. The Impact Lab allows students to understand processes and strategies of urban appropriation from the inside, whilst retaining a critical and multidisciplinary view from the outside. As students get actively involved, interact with relevant stakeholders and try to influence the course of events, the Impact Lab might also be seen as a form of urban appropriation itself. And, although the format is not yet fully developed and achieves all our goals, we are convinced that it has didactic, scientific and social value. It could be emulated in other places and other contexts. Therefore, in this paper, we will explain its conceptual background (I.), some specifics of the project’s implementation (II.) and, finally, share some practical experiences and reflect on how these experiences relate to the concept of urban appropriation (III.).

I. C ONCEPT

OF THE

L AB

The philosophers have only interpreted the world, in various ways; the point, however, is to change it. (Karl Marx, the former motto of Humboldt University of Berlin)

The Impact Lab draws inspiration from two relatively recent didactic approaches: “research based learning” and “law clinics”. Whilst it combines elements from both, it has its own specific, more experimental focus:

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Through research based learning students learn by getting actively involved in their teachers’ ongoing research projects. Compared to conventional teaching methods, this method holds several benefits: First, the active involvement of students into research projects tends to have a positive effect on the student’s learning experience. Second, research based learning goes beyond mere knowledge production as it promotes the development of multiple skills, such as teamwork, dealing with uncertainty, managing the research process and critical analysis. Low levels of hierarchy encourage an open dialogue between teacher and students, which in turn leads to a mutual development of research ideas and results (Healey and Jenkins 2009: 23). In the law clinics, law students gain practical experience by working on small cases under the supervision of experienced practitioners. Originating from U.S. law schools, the format is becoming more and more common in Europe. As law clinics typically deal with cases that fall outside the scope of commercial lawyers, they may also serve a social objective (for example, the legal faculty of Humboldt University of Berlin offers clinics in consumer, internet, asylum and anti-discrimination law). Literature on law clinics is scarce. In 2016, a conference in Berlin gathered experiences from European law faculties and other practice-oriented disciplines, such as medical schools. One major point stressed by several discussants was that clinics should allow for a deeper reflection of the underlying social phenomena (Humboldt Law Clinic). The Impact Lab “Green city – Just city?” seeks to combine the team-based quest to answer open questions of research based learning with the practical and social focus of law clinics. As in a law clinic, students are meant to gain operational knowledge by looking at “real” cases. As in science, we try to look at these cases from all angles and reflect openly upon our assumptions and methods. “Solving” the case is not necessarily the primary objective. Reframing the problem or pursuing a different strategy are equally acceptable outcomes. An inspiration for our project has been the work of Spaziviolenti, a university project based in Torino, which brings together students of law and architecture to construct socially and legally adequate spaces for family encounters in prisons (Spaziviolenti). The project is guided by the principles of the architectural movement Autocostruzione, developed by the engineer Giorgio Ceragioli (1974), which aimed to empower people to build their own houses and use the acquired knowledge to teach others to do the same. “Laboratory” in this sense means trying out (small and simple) things, in

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order to learn how they work out in practice. It means asking questions directly to the district administration and see how they react, or organizing a neighborhood workshop, to see how much effort it takes to mobilize just a handful of people. It is a vital insight from urban studies that the wellbeing of society not only depends on institutions and governance structures, but also on the availability of public space, both in a physical, and in an abstract sense (as spaces for encounter and the exchange of ideas). Urban green spaces play a particular role in both respects. In the neoliberal city, public space comes under pressure through processes of unchecked individual appropriation (Harvey 2012). Critical urban studies therefore suggest that in order to promote certain social goals, knowledge about the patterns and dynamics of individual appropriation of public spaces, as well as the possibilities of reappropriating it, must be produced and disseminated (dos Santos Junior 2014: 147). This includes knowledge about how urban space is “produced” in the sense of Henri Lefebvre and how different groups can claim their right to the city (Ronneberger and Vogelpohl 2014: 259). Understanding the legal background is thus important to fully comprehend urban appropriation processes of green areas. In the Impact Lab, students are therefore meant to learn how the administration works on a municipal level as well as investigate some concrete legal questions (e.g. under which conditions can green areas be used for other purposes, which constraints exist in redevelopment areas and so on). Students may also look at legal aspects that affect the power of stakeholders to influence decisions (organization, funding, etc.). Methods from the social sciences, especially qualitative and quantitative interviews and participant observation, on the other hand, allow students to capture the perspectives and interests of different actors and see how a legal reality plays out in practice. By combining the critical view of urban geography and a “technical” look at the legal background we try to construct a space where students learn about the “right to the city” both in legal and political terms.

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II. I NSIDE

THE L AB : OF RESULTS

S ET - UP ,

RUNNING AND USE

Enabling an open and experimental atmosphere, a positive learning experience and possibly even a small impact on outside actors requires a lot of organization. Thus, maintaining a clear perspective on your goal is crucial every step of the way. Organizational aspects Formalities and circumstances: We had the best experience with a group of 15-20 students, working on one project in different groups. Participants are usually advanced students from law, geography or resource management. We do not grade the work and only require continuous presence and effort. Our impression has been that the individual effort from most students was higher than in most regular courses. A weekly seminar is held at the interdisciplinary Georg-Simmel-Center for Metropolitan Studies. The choice of a neutral space, which is not a home institute to any of the involved disciplines, seemed desirable, as it counteracts possible hierarchies between the various disciplines and contributes to a creative research environment. Besides regular classes, field trips to urban initiatives and spaces or the city administration allow for new insights into the research project. Project partners: Finding the right project partners is the most important factor for success. Time is limited and the cases must be well-prepared. The project should not be too big, so that feasible individual tasks can be derived and some progress can be seen during one semester (i.e. a period of three months). However, it should also not be too small to allow for a more general reflection. In the spirit of autocostruzione, we try to look for projects that aim for positive change and not groups that are united purely in a NIMBY-minded opposition to a development in their neighborhood.1 In the last three semesters, we have cooperated with civil society groups, adminis-

1

Acronym for the phrase “Not in My Back Yard”, commonly used as a pejorative characterization of opposition by residents to new developments in their neighbourhoods.

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trative entities, a French cultural center and Vattenfall.2 Incentives and implications should be communicated clearly to the project partner. One should not raise unrealistic expectations about how much of an impact a group of students can make in one semester. Ideally the project partner sees some inherent value in a fresh view from the outside, and the positive dynamic and publicity that might be generated through student participation. The public presentation in the end can be a chance to get your case heard and initialize some dialogue (e.g. through inviting relevant stakeholders). Running the Lab The semester is divided into three phases. The goal of the project must be clear from the very beginning, ensuring sufficient motivation from the project partner and captivate the attention of the students. Through introductory sessions, participants are familiarized with the concept of the Lab, introduced to some theory and incentivized to reflect on “sustainable” urban development. What is also formed during these sessions are project groups, which are self-organized and have feasible project plans. Then, during the research phase, the students are working independently in their groups. However, constant encouragement and management are still crucial. Management should be indirect, and must not take away too much time or initiative. Useful tools include giving positive examples, encouraging proactive behavior, practical demonstrations and splitting up large problems into a catalogue of small questions. The final phase of reflection and presentation serves to reflect on the results and prepare the presentations. Contents for the presentations should be pinned down throughout the research phase. Inviting stakeholders from municipal or administrative bodies increases motivation to deliver valuable results and allows for a lively debate. The created dialogue between different stakeholders, based on the findings of the seminar, might in fact be the largest impact the weekly seminars truly make.

2

National Swedish power company and Germany’s third largest electricity producer. A large operator of coal-fired power plants and formerly also nuclear plants.

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Challenges and potential outcomes We learned that students are motivated and able to tackle both small, concrete questions as well as large general problems that require creative thinking. However, students cannot be expected to find the questions themselves in this format. The students’ ways of approaching problems vary between disciplines and are already deeply ingrained after two or three years at University. Whilst meeting people from other subjects appears to be a strong incentive to join the course, disciplinary silos might even be reinforced if interdisciplinary dialogue is not actively encouraged. Excitement and enthusiasm is crucial, but not enough. As the course seeks to develop different skills and aims to make an actual (though perhaps small) difference, students have to move beyond sheer enthusiasm towards continuous and diligent work. All students have appeared to be highly motivated by the idea of working on actual cases in their own city. Law students cherish the freedom, which they do not usually have in their curriculum. Others are interested in gaining some legal literacy, which is not promoted in many subjects. Additionally, project partners are usually satisfied with the cooperation, regardless of whether the students’ findings were able to present concrete solutions to them. The driving force behind social movements usually lies in raising awareness and inviting others to participate, just as much as in their stated political objective. Cooperating with students allows them to foster new connections, while keeping members motivated. Moreover, organizing the Impact Lab has also proven useful to our own research. It has directed us to new questions, amplified our research capabilities and provided an opportunity to get in contact with people with whom we would not have met without the framework of the seminar.

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III. T HE I MPACT L AB

IN PRACTICE – DIFFERENT FACES OF URBAN APPROPRIATION

A park does not make a neighbourhood. (Rahm Emanuel, Mayor of Chicago)

In the winter semester of 2016-2017, participants of the Impact Lab researched the redevelopment of a huge urban “wilderness” in the Kienberg area in Berlin-Marzahn,3 for the international garden exhibition 2017 (IGA 2017).4 The case showed highly differentiated patterns and dynamics of urban appropriation. Before 2014, the area around the Kienberg hill formed a mostly undeveloped public recreational area of about 120 ha in Berlin’s eastern-most district of Marzahn. Adjacent areas are covered with East German “Plattenbau-style” housing estates. In 2012, the area was chosen by Berlin’s senate to host the IGA 2017 as part of a major renewal of the area (IGA 2017). For this purpose, the area was made inaccessible by a solid metal fence. (Fig. 8) The IGA opened in 2017 with an entrance fee of €20/day. Previous cases of other garden exhibitions around Germany showed that access restrictions remained in place even after the event in question. Consequently, several citizens from the area formed an initiative to lobby against the IGA and for maintaining free access to the park. The initiative asked the Impact Lab whether a legally binding guarantee exists that the fence will be dismantled after the end of the international garden exhibition in October 2017. On a broader level, they asked whether citizens can claim a right to free access to public green areas.

3

Marzahn is a residential area at the northeastern fringe of the city. Located in former East Berlin it was the site of the largest housing development project in socialist Germany. It is characterized by prefabricated housing estates (Plattenbau) and middle to lower income demographics. Since the reunification, it has experienced declines in population and employment-rates and devaluation (Musterd et al. 2006: 25). Hosting the IGA was proclaimed to counteract these dynamics.

4

The IGA, Internationale Gartenausstellung, is Germany’s largest garden exhibition organized to celebrate garden and landscaping designs. Whilst the city of Berlin sees the garden exhibition as a way to foster urban development, others have criticized the IGA as a vehicle to foster private instead of public interests (Höge 2017).

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In order to answer these questions, students first mapped the different stakeholders, namely the district office of Marzahn-Hellersdorf, the IGA project company and the city-owned Grün Berlin company,5 as well as the BUND,6 an environmental NGO, and “KG – Am Kienberg”, an association of allotment garden holders. Legal analysis then showed that no law or administrative directive assured citizen’s rights to public green areas. Planning directives only contained non-binding, guiding values and the Federal Nature Protection Law, as well as the Berlin law on green spaces (Grünanlagengesetz), did not guarantee unrestricted access to green areas. The contracts, which transfer the management of the area from the district of Marzahn to the Grün Berlin Company for the next 20 years, contained no obligation to dismantle the fence. Grün Berlin, whilst being 100% owned by the city of Berlin, is formally set up as a private company. The contractual transfer therefore implies that the decision-making over the use of the park and the fence no longer lies with the district (and its district parliament), but with the management company Grün Berlin. In qualitative interviews, all stakeholders except the citizens’ initiative claimed that the fence will be removed after the exhibition in October 2017. However, Grün Berlin itself, as the central actor, did not reply to the students’ interview requests. Interviews also showed that stakeholders like the environmental NGO BUND and the association of the garden plot holders “KG – Am Kienberg” – which were skeptical to the IGA at the beginning – eventually cooperated with the IGA. Thanks to their clear legal positions and larger bargaining power this cooperation turned out to be mutually beneficial. Whilst maybe not as extreme as the Olympic Games or the FIFA World Cups (see Viehoff and Poynter 2016), the case of the IGA offers a striking example of how access rights to public spaces for citizens can be

5

Grün Berlin GmbH is a formally privatized company owned by the city of Berlin, charged with managing Berlin’s “prime” green spaces and developing new parks. Important to note is that parks under Grün Berlin’s management are not administered by the district anymore.

6

The Bund für Umwelt und Naturschutz Deutschland (BUND) is one of Germany’s largest non-governmental organizations devoted to environmental protection and conservation. As a means of comparison, it is the German member of Friends of the Earth.

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changed under the name of the “common” interest and a “green” city. The functioning of a large public space was profoundly transformed through changes in the underlying governance structures. The decision over future access to the park now lies with Grün Berlin, which may only be influenced indirectly by the Senate. Whilst the transfer of tasks to the public-private company might make the park management more effective, it clearly removes decision-making powers away from the citizens and the district itself. Furthermore, at the time of writing, the operational objectives of Grün Berlin have not been made clear. The weekly seminars also showed that the regulatory framework on urban green spaces is insufficient and does not regulate some of the most important aspects of green space development and administration. In particular, it neither guarantees individual rights to green spaces nor active participation in decision-making processes. At the public presentation, held in the main building of Humboldt University, more than 15 members of the civil society initiative were able to discuss the students’ results openly with officials from the district, other NGOs and the speaker on urban development of the Berlin parliament (Abgeordnetenhaus). Whilst no consensus could be established between the civil society initiative and the officials, all participants felt that the discussion was a positive development. Members of the civil society initiative appeared to appreciate a more nuanced perspective on their claims and even invited some students to speak at a public event several months after the end of the course. Here, this high level of attendance demonstrated highlighted the relevance of the topic. The participating students had very different opinions on whether the IGA was a good thing or not, whether the privatized management of public green spaces was a positive development, and whether the claims by the civil society initiative were warranted. However, they were all surprised by the swiftness of decision-making at the Senate level and the incompleteness of the legal framework regarding green space development. As one student put it: Of course, keeping a park clean and nice costs a lot of money. But the green space used to be freely accessible and the residents had no saying in whether they want a neat, managed park or not. Maybe the majority would have voted for it anyway, who knows, but the residents were never asked in the first place.

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IV. C ONCLUSION We believe that the Impact Lab made students aware of many facets or urban politics and thus enabled them to claim more of their city both in a physical and a political sense. It forced them to leave their “comfort zones” (in this case, none of the participating students had ever been to Marzahn before) and made them more interested in municipal politics and the importance of central versus district level decision-making (aggravated by the particular dynamics between East and West Berlin). Practical seminars of this nature can, in our view, play a useful role in turning students into active urban citizens and thus enable “positive” urban appropriation through knowledge production. University students are often newcomers to the city or at least reclaim it as their own by moving out of a previous routine. From our experience, they are highly interested in what is going on in “their” city and eager to get involved. However, they are usually not very familiar with the administrative and political structures at the municipal level and regular university courses do not necessarily familiarize them with the tools required to get involved. Thus, we believe that the format could be successfully replicated in other cities. It might even be carried out with more success in smaller cities than Berlin, as the organization of the Lab might be easier in situations where the connections between university, city administration and public initiatives are closer to each other from the very beginning. As David Harvey argued in Rebel Cities (2012), privatization processes are taking place in cities all over the world, irrespective of country or continent. Counteractions can only be achieved, if urban residents mobilize and re-organize themselves to create more livable spaces. In this sense, the Impact Lab “Green City –Just City?” can be understood as an impetus to better understand patterns of urban appropriation and to reclaim the cities themselves.

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B IBLIOGRAPHY Ceragioli, G. (1974) Autocostruzione con componenti industrializzati: analisi e prospettive. Torino: Libreria editrice universitaria Levrotto & Bella. dos Santos Junior, O. A. (2014) ‘Urban common space, heterotopia and the right to the city: Reflections on the ideas of Henri Lefebvre and David Harvey’. Revista Brasileira de Gestão Urbana (Brazilian Journal of Urban Management), 6 (2), 146–157. Harvey, D. (2012) Rebel cities: From the right to the city to the urban revolution. London, New York: Verso. Healey, M. and Jenkins, A. (2009) Developing Undergraduate Research and Inquiry. York: Higher Education Academy. Höge, H. (2017) ‘IGA von oben erzeugt Kritik von unten’. Tageszeitung (TAZ), newspaper article. April 11th , 2017. [online] http://www.taz.de/ !5396337/ Musterd, S., Murie, A., and Kesteloot, C. (eds.) (2006) Neighborhoods of Poverty. Urban Social Exclusion and Integration in Europe. New York: Palgrave MacMillan. Ronneberger, K. and Vogelpohl, A. (2014) ‘Henri Lefebvre: Die Produktion des Raumes und die Urbanisierung der Gesellschaft’. in Theorien in der Raum- und Stadtforschung: Einführungen. Oßenbrügge, J. and Vogelpohl, A. (eds.). Münster: Westfälisches Dampfboot, 251–270. Viehoff, V. and Poynter, G. (2016) Mega-event Cities: Urban Legacies of Global Sport Events. New York: Routledge.

W EBSITES Humboldt law clinic (2016) ‘Lernen an echten Fällen: Law clinics als fachübergreifendes Lehrkonzept’. [online] http://lawclinic.rewi.hu-berlin.de /doc/HLC-Workshop_Dokumentation.pdf [last accessed 17 November 2017] IGA (Internationale Gartenausstellung) (2017) ‘About the IGA Berlin 2017’. [online] https://iga-berlin-2017.de/en/about-iga-berlin-2017 [last accessed 17 November 2017] Spaziviolenti [online] https://spaziviolenti.org/chi-siamo/ [last accessed 8 May 2017]

APPROPRIATION OF THE URBAN IN THE CONTEXT OF MIGRATION

Picture Credit: Ute Peppersack

Urban Planning in the Context of Migration I NTERVIEW WITH R ALF P ASEL -K RAUTHEIM BY

F RANZISKA P OLLETER AND J OSEFINE S ARKEZ -K NUDSEN

In 2016, the intercultural project Kitchen on the Run travelled through several European cities. Utilising a mobile kitchen unit in the form of a reconstructed shipping container, they invited newcomers and local residents to come and prepare a meal together. The intention was to overcome crosscultural communication barriers through conducting a shared activity in a “neutral” space (i.e. the mobile kitchen). How important would you say that this sense of “spatial neutrality” is for this project in particular, and temporary appropriation strategies in general? Ralf Pasel-Krautheim: A “neutral” space – [that is,] a space that is not biased, a space without history, which therefore does not evoke a positive or negative connotation, such as the one being created by the Kitchen on the Run – allows for encounters on a level playing field! As this place did not exist before, nobody can claim it as their own. It is, so to say, like a laboratory: the space can be appropriated anew and in a completely independent and individual manner. This is a utopian state of affairs of a spatial condition that cannot be found in the structured cityscape [and] may prove to have incredible catalytic effects – both in terms of the “living together” in a city and on the urban space itself. That is, by helping to establish first points of contact, the processes resulting from these interventions will be very important for the newcomers in the long run as it will allow them to create a network consisting of locals as well as other newcomers. In a positive sense, the container thus provokes a direct and interactive encounter. A

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“neutral” space can enable this as it presents itself as a novel situation for everybody involved. However, you cannot equate this kind of “neutral,” temporarily used location with a permanent spatial setting, but nor can you completely separate them from one another. As both reflect urban society, the city needs both of these spatial contexts. Clearly, the built, historical environment encourages a different kind of behaviour to that of a place that comes about ad hoc and, in the process, provokes instant reactions. Nevertheless, in the case of the Kitchen on the Run project, they invite people to actively participate in urban life by deliberately placing the kitchen-container on a location within a specific cultural and societal context. This action speaks to a specific group of people and thus the implementation here should not be seen as a spatial, but rather as a socio-cultural one. Could you further explain this connection between spaces open to temporary appropriations and the notion of locals and newcomers “meeting on a level playing field”? RPK: For people entering a new society, flexible and perhaps also playful spaces may be easier to inhabit and make use of, than spaces of regulated and already stipulated processes (where perhaps only a specific group of city dwellers reside). The city as a [social] organism is highly complex. Firstly, [for a newcomer] these structures and processes have to be understood and internalized. This can be very difficult and take a long time, especially if there are great cultural differences involved. Here then, the barriers for using flexible and “open” nooks and crannies are relatively low. Through the appropriation of space and a feeling of ownership of one’s own actions, however small they may be, one becomes a part of the [urban] fabric. Being part of something means identifying with a space and also with a society. Thus, these spatial experiences are very important in urban life. So, does this mean that we all “shape” the city when we temporarily, or permanently, appropriate space in an urban context? RPK: An [urban] space may give us the possibility to thrive and develop. However, not everyone of all ages and from all walks of life can socially

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participate in city life to the same extent. This is a perpetually dynamic process, which is always changing and is primarily dependent on how the individual moves and acts within the organism of the city. Yet, everyone is shaping the city, and this happens mostly unintentionally and automatically. This could be through simple and everyday actions, but it could also be of a societal kind. Thus, it is not only architects and city planners who design the city spatially, also the market stall operators, selling their cultural goods at the weekly markets, are participating in the shaping of the city. How do you, as an architect and an urban planner, relate to these fluctuations of appropriations in urban space? RPK: In order to create a lively city, both planned and unplanned spaces are needed. The city needs an active urban population, temporarily occupying and using urban space in various ways, and this is quite easily achieved in “neutral” or unplanned spaces. At the same time, there is also a need for municipal regulations, which allows for a creation of permanent structures and clear-cut boundaries in the cityscape. First and foremost, these structures and boundaries should be seen as a framework for cohabitation. As an architect and urban planner, you constantly ask yourself: “How far am I going with my intervention? How do I define the space? And how much freedom do I allow for individual appropriation?” If one allows for too much freedom, then it can be the case that the inhabitants might no longer want, or know how, to take possession of the space. Thus, you have to provide some kind of impetus in order to encourage the users to be creative. Seeing how the two spatial contexts, the permanent and the temporary, are inherently connected to each other, how do you think a temporary intervention can turn into a permanent and sustainable project? RPK: What should be initiated is a social process that is defined not by projects, but rather by a living together, a coexistence of equality. The objective of these projects should be to enable people to meet through brief interventions and, subsequently, find some form of emancipation through them. Then, they may themselves take over and run the projects for as long as needs be.

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In which ways do you then view participation as a tool for designing new urban spaces that attracts a more diverse group of users? RPK: The power of participation lies in its ability to control processes in which diverse groups of people share a common interest. It is an important tool for creating and using the interactive spaces within the urban organism. [I think] it is excellent to embrace these experimental ways of utilising space [in architecture and urban planning], as their raison d’être is how they – thanks to their temporary nature – may instantly facilitate social interactions and have immediate social impacts. Here we could truly speak about the notion of integration! Participation, in itself, is therefore a very effective tool as it is also relatively easy to implement. Let us look at the example of Kitchen on the Run once more: It is great if the construction of the [container] space is part of a participatory process, that [the container] is built and used together with the newcomers, and that the sharing of the space itself is the eventual culmination of the project. However, it has to be said that urban society can only genuinely be reflected through a multitude of different approaches and projects. It is only through the totality of all these projects that the urban and a certain forward-thinking emerge. It is in this complexity that society, with all its facets and overlays, is presented in its entirety. Thus, the projects must point to the everyday life and composition of the society [in question]. It is just through utilising such participatory processes that we, together with the Hans Sauer Foundation (HSF), are developing a reproducible workshop unit that can be attached, or “docked”, to refugee welcome centres. HSF has put out a call for entries to a student architectural competition, PLUG-IN, and in the beginning of 2018, a prototype [of the winning entry] will be constructed through a design-build project, working together with the inhabitants of a refugee welcome centre in Munich. The workshop unit should create an activity area and compensate for the lack of space found in refugee accommodation units, which have been designed to only provide for the very bare necessities. Where there is no pleasant communal indoor or outdoor space, there will inevitably be conflicts when three adults share a room à 21 square metres, and the workshop space is intended to provide a remedy here! It will be fully equipped by a leading welfare association and managed by their carpenter. Furthermore, the concept is that of an “open workshop” where locals and refugees can meet – for example,

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they can make furniture and other desired items for their accommodation units. The target is to build a common identity through the shared construction of space. And, after a successful trial period, the workshop unit may be duplicated for, and introduced in, other refugee centres. Finally, how do you feel that the cities of Germany have changed since the 2015 culmination of the refugee “crisis”? RPK: For me it is much more important to look towards the future of [city] dwelling, than focusing on the question of what has changed in recent years. Today, we have to consider how can we integrate people in Germany and Europe for the long run. With social diversity being an asset for all cities, this offers thrilling and significant possibilities! We must do everything we can to maintain social interactions based upon respect for one another, and make sure that we become a society where people not only live side by side but live together. All cities want to grow economically but this is usually only possible when you have a growing population. Today, there are great opportunities for cities and municipalities to distinguish themselves [in their reception of newcomers]: a whole new range of possibilities opens up if they can get the newcomers to stay and successfully integrate. However, this intercultural coexistence must be consciously anchored in the lives, thoughts and feelings of all inhabitants – only then do I see this great potential for a city! Translated from the German by Franziska Polleter and Mathilda Rosengren.

Streetworks Street Networks and Designing Diversity in Neukölln, Berlin M ALTE B ERGMANN AND L AURA K EMMER

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Figure 10: Map Neukölln, Berlin

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I NTRODUCTION : S TREETS

AS TOOLS IN URBAN

PLANNING AND DESIGN In this paper, we focus on both transnational planning initiatives and (post-) migrant entrepreneurs’ public placemaking practices in Neukölln, Berlin, a neighborhood that over a few years has undergone a rapid transformation. Who are the actors and mechanisms behind this change – from being stigmatized as a “ghetto” (Tagesspiegel 2008) in the German media to its resurrection as a top-location for bohemians and hipsters from all over the world? In the following paper, we analyze the discursive shift from “diversity as a challenge” to “diversity as a resource” as part of a wider picture. We claim that the discovery of cultural diversity fits well into a broader discursive shift. Whereas local planning initiatives may formerly have designed public space “from above,” the trend leads towards seeing the potential for local communities to come up with creative, flexible and culturally rich ideas for change. The case of Neukölln’s Karl-Marx street vis-á-vis Sonnenallee is illustrative, we argue, for the dilemma of urban participatory planning to intervene in the streetscape while remaining sensitive to translocal placemaking. In January 2014, during his keynote speech before the Open Working Group on Sustainable Development Goals, UN-Habitat executive director Joan Clos argued that to ensure proper urbanization, urban planning “should establish minimum densities, optimize street connectivity and social diversity.” (Open Working Group on SDGs 2014:7) Behind this statement lies a discursive shift triggered by the preparatory process of “New Urban Agenda” for the Habitat III conference. The line of reasoning moved from governing the general human “habitat”, towards a stronger impetus for “planning” the urban (public) space, thus aiming at more compact cities that integrate a variety of actors and uses. Urban practitioners, scholars and designers of all kinds have adhered to the diagnosis that the sustainable development of cities depends on the quality of urban policies and planning strategies. What is more, the key role of streets as public spaces in enhancing urban prosperity has recently been considered within broader analytical approaches (UN-Habitat 2013). Consequently, planning and design interventions in streets are measured according to their ability to deal with both change and continuity. Whereas it is deemed important to keep local ties

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and networks intact, research and design projects struggle with the question of how to manage the changes that accompany the growth of cities’ populations both in terms of size and heterogeneity (UN-Habitat 2013:vii). This shift is in line with voices that have challenged the city as a consistent unit for quite some time in urban studies (Amin 2002; Fainstein 2010:67-77; Sandercock 1998, 2004). Talking of density, agglomeration, connectedness and multifunctionality currently seems to be more accurate. Against this discursive preference, Richard Sennett argues that it is a mere cliché to talk about cities as “complex organisms” (Sennett 2005:2). Indeed, urbanity has always been analyzed as a highly condensed assemblage of things and beings. As the classic works of Georg Simmel show, the challenge to make sense of this very complexity on a day-to-day and scholarly level laid the foundations of urban sociology as a discipline. If complexity is high on the agenda again today, it is probably more due to a crisis of models and approaches that struggle to deal with it. It cannot be neglected that globalization, social differentiation and digitization are creating more and more layers of spatiality and temporality. Yet, following Sennett’s argument, the interesting issue is not the complexity itself, but the question of how we can create situations where “pieces of the puzzle” interact in a way that brings about the positive aspects of urbanity. In this sense, the classic study by Jane Jacobs (1961) has inspiringly shown how meaningful social interaction and resilience may grow out of complex spatial arrangements. Her interpretation of London as a “postcolonial” city (1996) has been particularly influential in pointing towards the production of space by culturally diverse communities. The linkages between the country’s colonial past and present that those communities embody are inscribed into the urban public space. In this sense, Jacobs offers a detailed account of how London’s famous Brick Lane during the 1980s has been appropriated by local Bengali entrepreneurs, making the streetscape that is now advertised as “Banglatown” (The Guardian 2004). Indeed, with postcolonial migration we observe a further diversification of cities. Migration histories, educational backgrounds, legal statuses, lengths of residence, economic backgrounds, and many more categories overlap. Steven Vertovec has coined the term “super-diversity” to give credit not only to the diversification of diversity but also to point out that group boundaries are fluid. In contrast to politics around “multiculturalism”, this new terminology has been developed to avoid essentializations

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around categories such as national origin or ethnicity. What is more, the author points to the importance of networking practices that establish contact between people for reasons that go beyond nationality (Vertovec 2007:5). More recently, those kinds of initiatives that draw their selfidentification out of a do-it-yourself (DIY) approach towards the city have received increased attention. The crisis resulting from an overdetermination in planning in cities of Europe and North America, and the subsequent search for innovative participatory approaches, spurred the rise of the DIY – or Self-made City – as powerful images. Multicultural street markets, urban gardening projects, “ethnic” street food, and religious festivals are highly supported and fit the positioning as creative cities (UNHabitat 2012b, see Colomb 2012 and Bodirsky 2012 for the case of Berlin). The “diverse” streetscape that is produced by (post-)migrants,1 results from the trans-local connections of streets which are inserted into wider networks around the globe (Hall and Datta 2010). In this paper we argue that first, the two streets we analyze should not be treated as two distinct cases, but rather be seen as two sides of the same coin. In a second methodological endeavor, we take the neighborhood of Neukölln as our empirical context to reflect on networks of worldwide planning strategies and trans-local placemaking practices. This approach, we argue, is best captured by the conceptualization of “streetworks” (street-networks) where (post-)migrant networks day-to-day public placemaking is understood as interdependent with planning strategies that are exchanged in international city networks.

D ISCOVERING DIVERSITY AS N EUKÖLLN IS EVERYWHERE

A RESOURCE :

This section discusses the discovery of Neukölln’s cultural diversity by Aktion! Karl-Marx street (A!KMS). The local planning initiative brings together architects, urban planners, public relations experts and sociologists

1

We chose the term “postmigrant” here to designate those networks that do not only consist of first- generation migrants, but are still treated – or self-identify – as “differing” from the majority society in their current country-of-residence in terms of national or cultural origin. For a broader discussion of the German context, see Erol Yildiz (2013:177-189).

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under the umbrella goal of accompanying a discursive change with spatial interventions – with the goal of transforming the street into a kind of glittering “Broadway” (Tagesspiegel 2008; A!KMS 2011). The vision is to trigger the economic revival of the neighborhood by working with diversity as a resource. This idea has not been invented by A!KMS, but is indeed a widespread policy approach amongst city networks. In the present case, the Intercultural Cities Programme (ICC) – a co-financer of the planning initiative – sustains the argument that “one of the defining factors which will determine [...] which cities flourish and which decline will be the extent to which they allow their diversity to be their asset, or their handicap” (Council of Europe 2008:4). In the following, we analyze the material and symbolic practices that such a vision for urban planning implies. Our basic assumption is that the interventions by A!KMS can be analyzed as part of a wider picture, where the trend towards a stronger planning impetus in streetscape design runs the risk of overlooking social practices in public place-making. In a first part of this section, we exemplify how the regeneration program in Karl-Marx street employs planning strategies that originate in globally travelling policies of “diversity as a resource”. Secondly, we concentrate on two of those strategies: (1) a spatial classification that relies on “visible” and “edible” expressions of cultural diversity in the street; (2) the participatory remodeling of a central square. We believe that Neukölln serves as a particularly interesting example, as the local administration has been very active in promoting it as a model for neighborhood upgrading programs. By claiming, in the title of his bestselling book, that “Neukölln is everywhere” (2013), former Mayor Heinz Buschkowsky subscribes to a discursive current where local solutions to the perceived challenges of enhanced cultural diversity are interchanged between cities worldwide. In this context, the Intercultural Cities Programme constitutes a platform for travelling policies that are proliferated globally. In 2008, the European Commission and the Council of Europe initiated the ICC as a joint program that connects 21 EU cities and 40 associated members worldwide. The basic idea of the “Planning for Diversity Advantage” (Landry and Wood 2008), that has been advocated by ICC during the sixth session of the World Urban Forum (UN-Habitat 2012a:122), can be traced back to the think tank “Comedia”, founded in 1978 by two British cultural and urban

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planners. For its first conference, ICC adapts the recurrent notion of “managing diversity”, which Charles Landry and Phil Wood introduce in the above-cited book. On the city level, national and local actors, together with EU partners, form part of a governing alliance that encourages “greater mixing” but at the same time is designed to “tame” and “harness” diversity (Wood 2009:44). This apparent contradiction goes hand in hand with what we described by way of introduction as the planning dilemma to deal with socio-spatial complexities. It is solved, for the ICC model, by proposing a twofold strategy in urban planning that combines “symbolic actions” with “flagship trial projects”. Related design models and policy guidelines are supposed to be generated out of the experience of 11 pilot partners. As one of those partners, the A!KMS not only seeks to inscribe the discursive change towards diversity as a resource into the streetscape, but at the same time follows a strategy of re-positioning Karl-Marx street as the center of Neukölln. This combined vision is summarized by the public relations manager of A!KMS as follows: “Diversity is an international trend. We will use its potential to recover the street’s historical function as vital city center” (Interview by LK, September 2013). Urban planning has indeed, since the foundations of Neukölln in 1912, played an active role in establishing the street’s centrality. The Wilhelminian façades of the district’s town hall and the post office in its neo-baroque style still bear architectural witness to a history of concentrating administrative power. With the economic boom in western Germany after World War II, a second function of the street gained strength, shifting planning efforts towards constructing shopping centers. Today, the department stores of the 1960s and 1970s remain vacant, as the uses and users of the street have changed considerably. As a consequence of a general trend in western German cities, classical mid-sized retailing is experiencing a decline in recent years. In light of these transformations, the German federal government has launched the “active centers” program, to preserve the character of those places as business locations, but also “as places for living, culture and leisure” (Berlin Senate 2008). In 2008, the A!KMS successfully applies for this program with a proposal that combines marketing strategies with spatial interventions. The promise to revitalize the street’s economic centrality and to enhance the attractiveness of its public spaces is expressed in the ini-

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tiative’s motto: “Young, colorful, successful – trade, encounter, experience” (A!KMS 2008a:18). The symbolic strategy accompanying this motto is summarized as “strengthening diversity” and is ingrained in the representations of the street by A!KMS planners. A classification of the street’s mixed-use structure between “ethnic retail, service and gastronomy sectors” is already discussed throughout the first workshops of the initiative, where a division into “a Vietnamese, a Turkish and a German section” is proposed (A!KMS 2008a: 7, 2008b). Although this perspective on grouping “edible” expressions of cultural diversity around nationalities has not been kept, the classificatory approach still influences the perspective of the A!KMS city management section, as the following interview passage summarizes: “Today, we distinguish between a multicultural unit in the north, a central tandem sector of culture and commerce, and a southern development area” (Interview by LK, July 2013). The problematic effect of such a zoning of the street’s “uses” implies a homogenization of its “users”. Even though not reduced to national identities, they are hierarchized according to the economic potential of their diversity. By strategically promoting certain expressions of diversity – such as the “fashion-network Neukölln”, the “Intercultural Ramadan”-festival, or a tourist guide that advertises Neukölln’s “international flavors” – the A!KMS seeks to attract members of the creative class. As the municipalities’ responsible for A!KMS explains, “the initiative follows a strong regulative approach, and we are convinced that by using all legislative instruments we dispose of, we will be able to intervene into those sections of the street where we envision its most diverse potential” (Interview by LK, July 2013). Whereas those practices that influence the streetscape design in the so-called “development area” may go by the board, terming another section “multicultural” points to a second pitfall of the planning strategies around diversity-as-resource. Adhering to the “multiculturalism” idea goes contrary to the acknowledgement of a society’s “super-diversity” (Vertovec 2007). The multiplicity of overlapping and constantly changing identities in Karl-Marx street is reduced in an attempt to delineate clear-cut cultural expressions, such as “Turkish restaurants” or “Asian shops”. This first symbolic strategy can be summarized as promoting “the young” and “the colorful” – a mixture of

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creative newcomers and selected segment of the “trade” sector – justified with an historical argument of revitalizing the shopping street’s centrality. This symbolic strategy of “strengthening diversity” is accompanied by concrete spatial interventions. As the public space of the street is identified as that space of “encounter” where diversity may be “experienced”, a second strategy of the A!KMS aims at “making space” (A!KMS 2008a:19). The materialization of the accompanying design scheme can recently be contemplated at the street’s central square. We take the example of the square’s renovation as an example for the introductorily expressed warning that planning may risk overseeing those practices that also “make” the urban public space on a daily basis. A!KMS, together with the municipal planning office, has launched a publication that reinforces this concern. Under the title “Finally a Square”, it is argued that the streetscape could only be transformed into a public space through the initiative’s intervention (A!KMS 2014). Speaking with the Intercultural Cities Programme, the remodeling takes the function of a “flagship project”, as the square is enacted as a focal point that links the “multicultural” with the “culture/commerce” unit. The strategy that underlies this symbolic urban policy consists of setting “planning impulses” (Interview, city management, July 2013) in those areas of the street where diversity is deemed to be usable as a resource for generating economic success, whereas the “development area” evolves more and more towards Karl-Marx street’s margins. During the inaugural meeting of A!KMS, the centrality rhetoric also serves to locate the street in a broader context, as connecting the inner city and the new – still unfinished – megaproject “Berlin-Brandenburg-Airport” (A!KMS 2008b). If Karl-Marx street were to be imagined as an artery that connects Berlin’s center and periphery, the square would represent its new “heart” (Interview, public relations, November 2013). At the same time, the square is also supposed to “bundle” the diversity of interests of the street’s inhabitants: “Aktion! Karl-Marx street integrates the previously separately acting representatives from the retail sector, as well as the real estate owners and the diverse ethnical groups” (A!KMS 2008a:20). In 2012, the initiative launched a call for a participatory renaming of the square. Two years later, it was announced that, even though suggestions as promising as “square of diversity, of cultures, or of tolerance” (Email communication, June 2013) had been received, the local government finally opted for the name

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“Alfred-Scholz-Platz” (A!KMS 2014). By honoring the district’s first social-democratic mayor, continuity with the then-active Buschkowskygovernment (member of the same party) is staged – at the expense of a participatory planning impulse. A second intent to foster participation can be found in the enactment of the concrete place design. Together with a Tunisian artist, inhabitants and users of Karl-Marx street installed a “demographic mosaic”, supposed to represent – through inserting colorful stones into the pavement – the diversity of their national origins. Again, the A!KMS follows an ICCrecommendation by engaging “artists [...] in a collaborative process, which hands over ownership of the process to the intercultural grouping itself” (ICC 2008:2). After its official inauguration, residents criticized the “uniform” appearance of the square (Facetten-Magazin 2014b). The adherence to exact quantitative proportions resulted in a designation of nearly 70% stones of the type “Greywacke” to those Neukölln citizens in possession of a German passport (A!KMS 2014) – the diversity of second or third generation migrants cannot be visualized through this public space design and planning approach.

S ONNENALLEE , THE DARK K ARL -M ARX STREET ?

SIDE OF

Sonnenallee is one of the main traffic routes of Berlin’s southeast side. The street is four and a half kilometers long and connects the central Hermannplatz to the eastern periphery. First named “Straße 84”, then “Kaiser Friedrich Straße”, it was an important route even before the construction of modern Berlin in the 19th century. From the early 20th century onwards, it developed its structure as a mixed-use street with five-story residential buildings, commercial spaces on the ground floor and smaller production spaces in the backyards. The built housing structure ranges from spacious units to simpler and smaller apartments that were typically inhabited by lower income groups, such as factory workers. In the post war period, the central part of the street became known for specialized retail, crafts and trade as well as smaller manufacturing. Sonnenallee was profiting from the buzz around Karl-Marx street as the commercial and representative main street. With the erection of the Berlin Wall, Sonnenallee was blocked at its

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eastern end and lost its function as a pathway for carrying people in and out of the center. The city’s tramway tracks were removed in favor of a median strip. After 1989, the street steadily regained its role as a major thoroughfare, but the structural change affected the street in a major way. The near collapse of Berlin’s manufacturing industry in the 1990s left many low skilled people without jobs. At the same time, many middle-class households moved out of the central districts of Berlin towards the edges of the city (Häußermann 2000). Many residents in northern Neukölln have very low access possibilities to the formalized employment market. The very northern part of Neukölln between Sonnenallee and Karl-Marx street has an unemployment rate of around 14.4%. This affects young people the most, almost 68.7% of residents under the age of 15 years receive social benefits, meaning that their parents are not able to fully support them with their income.2 With the steady decrease in purchasing power from the 1990s on, many of the traditional stores closed and investments by real estate owners were held back, leaving an overall scenery of slow demise. This development generated a moment of opportunity for (post-)migrant entrepreneurs with low investment capacities. Steadily the Sonnenallee was re-vitalized by immigrant entrepreneurs who, often very explicitly, used ethnicity as a marketing strategy. “Lebara Mobile – Al-Axa Electronics – Lebara Mobile – Um-Kalthum – Oriental Articles – Oriental Gifts – Sheesha Water Pipes – Azzam Oriental Groceries”3 are just some of the claims that are present on signs in the street. On about five blocks there is a very high density of shops, snack restaurants and cafés referring to Arab names or sites. Many storefronts also feature Arabic writing. While conducting interviews with the entrepreneurs on the street, the ethnic appropriation was mostly told with pride. One entrepreneur was able to tell a detailed history of the “Arabic development of the street”. Since around 2005 the street has gained a citywide reputation as the “Arab street”

2

All numbers are based on a micro statistical investigation (LOR) by the Amt für Statistik Berlin Brandenburg from the year 2010 (Quartiersmanagementgebiet Donaustraße-Nord/Berlin-Neukölln).

3

Part of the field study was to collect the claims present in the public space. The ones used above were translated from the German.

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in Berlin. This informal reputation seems to be useful for many entrepreneurs. Customers come to visit from other parts of town to buy specialized goods, eat falafel or dive into a distinctly different street atmosphere. The nickname the “Gaza Strip” is well known in student circles. This term is mostly used in an ironic and friendly way, but does reflect a sense of unease and insecurity among some. Whereas some young women said they felt troubled by men shouting or whistling at them, older people expressed prejudices and xenophobic views. Some avoided the street altogether because they felt unsafe and many had doubts about the legality of the entrepreneurial activities on the street. Some voiced that “they are all not paying taxes”, or that the owners of the stores were mostly just involved in “money laundering” rather than doing real business. While doing fieldwork, the narrative of the “Arab owned street”, as a space of somehow unclear but dense intra-ethnic networks was often evoked by people of non-Arabic background. The image of an “ethnic niche” as prominently described in the US-American tradition of urban studies (Waldinger 2003) seemed to be in the heads of many. Even though the car traffic is very dense, the sidewalks are crowded with numerous activities. Passers-by stream up and down the street; small groups gather in front of the snack restaurants, cafés and kiosks, some take folding chairs, benches or boxes to the street. In the last two to three years many students, young professionals and families and have moved to the area. Bars, nightclubs and a large organic food store have followed them. Especially at the weekends, young people can be found on the street in groups, drinking and socializing. 58.2% of residents around the street are first or second generation migrants to Germany. Of the people under the age of 18, 85.7% have at least one parent who migrated to Berlin.4 Curiously, the rate of people that hold a passport from an Arabic-speaking country and live around Sonnenallee was only 2% of the total population in 2008. Their countries of origin range from Libya, to Syria, Iraq and Morocco. The fieldwork showed that only a small proportion of the businesses were mainly targeting a specific Arabic group. Even the shisha cafés were sometimes visited by mixed groups of students. With the help of open,

4

This number is also from the sample of the LOR dataset by the Amt für Statistik Berlin Brandenburg only considering Sonnenallee and the directly adjacent streets.

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qualitative interviews with migrant entrepreneurs some surprising information about the type of resources and networks on the street could be reconstructed. First, the start-up funding was in all cases very limited and often provided by close family members. Many of those interviewed described having very limited opportunities to access other segments of the labor market. As a second important feature, many ventures were the only possibility to gain an independent income for their founders. The pathways of the businesses were often curved, gradually moving from one area to a very different one. One example is a family business run by a couple who gradually moved from a grocery store to furniture and gift articles marketed as specifically oriental. This change happened incrementally over the course of three years and proved to be more lucrative. The many experimental pathways are certainly due to limited resources. At the same time, they point to a certain robustness and high adaptiveness of their owners. The key resources for the couple running the abovementioned family business were trans-local connections. The husband used his ties to Syria and Lebanon for the import of groceries and later for the furniture and gift articles. In another case, translocality was not based on transfer of goods but on knowledge. Here, family members in Gaza assisted the entrepreneur in slowly developing his specialized printing facility. The assistance consisted mostly in coaching about operational workflows. The entrepreneur did not have much specialized knowledge in printing at the beginning, but slowly grew into the field with the consistent assistance from Gaza via Internet and telephone. This third key resource was the most important for many of the successful enterprises. The field research and interviews clearly show that the Sonnenallee is not a closed ethnic space of highly connected local ethnic networks. On the contrary, the character of the street as a thoroughfare seems to be related to the translocality of many of the entrepreneurs. Following the concept of a “sociology of space” (Löw 2001) that focuses on the dynamic interplay between objects, structures and actions, the street may be seen as a hybrid, trans-local space that connects local and global networks. The striking activity of the entrepreneurs is the local contextualization of distant resources. The socio-economic actions of these entrepreneurs may be understood as a “spacing”, an act of synthesis that successfully couples transnational ties to a local context by placing human beings, social goods and signs into a spatial arrangement (Löw 2008). In this action, they create and reproduce spa-

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tial arrangements according to existing spatial infrastructures that become visible and perceivable in the streetscape, even though the trans-local networks are to some extend hidden from the everyday visitor. In the case of Sonnenallee, the generally mixed urban design with many small commercial units is an important element of this infrastructure. The true thoroughfare quality of the street, as an efficient means of bringing people in and out in high frequencies, is another. This is complemented by the storefronts functioning as variable displays.

C ONCLUSION : S TREETWORKS

AND INFRASTRUCTURES

This paper intervenes in the debate about the “New Urban Agenda” with a central question: How to deal with both changes and continuities in the public space? More specifically: Can urban planning integrate those networks that represent the diverse quality of a street into a participatory approach or does an account for “streetworks” require a different design? Whereas the limits of the “integrative” approach to urban planning have become apparent throughout the first part of this chapter, in what follows we reflect further on the gap between planning strategies and the variety of actors engaged in placemaking on the ground. With our empirical analysis, we have traced not only the travelling of ideas through city networks, but also its missing articulation with trans-local migrant networks. Whereas the planning initiative of Karl-Marx street can be interpreted as re-inscribing a historically over-determined planning and centralized design practice into the streetscape – discursively justified by the promising changes “diversityas-a-resource” should bring – it fails to account for those continuities and trans-local ties that day-to-day placemaking in Sonnenallee clearly shows. In his writings on public space, Manuel Delgado (1999) argues that its planning and design is always necessarily subject to negotiation. This perspective, developed on the basis of insights from urban anthropology, accounts for practices of placemaking that go beyond their often idealized and harmonized construction in the planning discourse. It draws the attention of both urban practitioners and researchers to socio-spatial processes instead of fixed structures or locations. The example of Neukölln shows the interconnectedness between those social and symbolic, material and immaterial placemaking practices. Whereas the planners of A!KMS finally sacrificed

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the “colorful” for the sake of inscribing a static greystone design into the square, the case of Sonnenallee shows how diverse cultural identities are not fixed, but are constantly being (re)appropriated and adapted by the streets’ users. In this context, Delgado coins the term “the Urban [lo Urbano]”, to differentiate his approach from classical planning perspectives: “Cities may and should be planned. The urban should not. It refers to that which is not plannable in a city” (2007: 18 [the authors’ translation]).5 Whereas classical anthropology treated the streets as “non-places” (Augé 1995) or mere transit-spaces, Delgado analyses those dynamic micropractices of inter-action and self-organization as urban life par excellence (Huffschmid 2014:81). As we have shown, the thoroughfare qualities of a street may indeed have a positive revitalizing effect and create new hybrid spaces for post-migrant networks, symbolic appropriation and encounter. Following this line of argument, we encourage city planners and designers to pay attention to the interplay between urban diversity politics and day-to-day street networks. By thinking of our two empirical studies not as separate, but as an exemplary set of strategies that follows broader discourses on public space-making and marketing, the transitional and translocal quality of streets can be acknowledged. Instead of treating streets with classificatory zoning schemes or pre-determined participative plans, sensitivity towards the potential of streetworks for the creation of public spaces is advocated here. We derive, from our analysis, that binary approaches – limited to a selection of either integrative or “tame-and-harness” strategies – run the risk of producing “ethnic niche” representations. Rather than reproducing a line of argumentation that advocates a harmonization of conflict-zones – thus preventing diversity from threatening a “good” public space design – we highlight the quality of streets as contact zones where diversity is continuously negotiated. The case of Sonnenallee clearly shows that local entrepreneurs were not necessarily interacting only within the street or targeting an exclusive ethnic group, but rather they draw their resources from trans-local ties for goods and knowledge transfer. Streetworks thus compose a broader structure of public placemaking, reaching further beyond the geographical limits of the street than planning initiatives like A!KMS envision. Even though inserted into a transnational city network,

5

“Las ciudades pueden y deben ser planificadas. Lo urbano, no. Lo urbano es lo que no puede ser planificado en una ciudad, ni se deja.” (Delgado 2007: 18)

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where ideas travel beyond the local context, the planning initiative remains insensitive towards those “spacing” practices that synthesize humans, goods and signs in the streetscape. Urban planners and designers take a huge responsibility when assuming the role of facilitating “diversity as resource.” Even though welcoming a global discursive shift towards a positive understanding of the term, we want to point out the pitfalls of those planning and design practices that our analysis reveals. Against treating the public space of streets as voids that needs to be filled by urbanists – as expressed through the claim “finally a square” by A!KMS – Delgado argues for the “right to indifference” (2007:182). Those users and inhabitants who constantly (re-)inscribe their diversity into the streetscape should not be essentialized according to ethnocultural signifiers, but rather should they have the right to be treated as usual, ordinary, same, in short – with indifference. It is important to note here that Delgado does not envision a depoliticized public space. By claiming the right to indifference, he goes against such multiculturalist or meltingpot rhetoric that we can find materialized – as in the case of Karl-Marx street – in a “demographic mosaic” of harmonious, side-by-side existing cultural identities. Indifference rather means that the practices of those networks that make public space are not merely integrated into a pre-designed participatory process but that their potential to perform the needs of the streets’ inhabitants and constantly (re-)negotiating the public space is acknowledged.

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OUTLOOKS FOR A STRATEGIC REPOSITIONING

As one possible way out of the planning dilemma between generating change through integration or acknowledging continuities of intrinsic spatial logics such as trans-local placemaking, we suggest considering a repositioning in urban design towards a strategic practice of “infrastructuring”. In this view, urban design aims at creating frames that enable and strengthen underlying potentials and solutions. Following the design theorist Pelle Ehn’s (2008) argument, infrastructuring necessarily needs to be a participatory process that takes place before, during, and after the design process. This endeavor shifts the authorship from the designers and planners to the

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participants and users.6 Departing from those infrastructures, we claim, implies the recognition of streetworks as not merely “another perspective” to integrate into local planning discourse, but as those pre-existent structures that give continuity to urban planning and design projects. The sustainability of ever more diverse urban societies and spaces can be significantly enhanced by facilitating the constitution or consolidation of local communities that elaborate original solutions to daily complexities. At the same time, when granted the “right to indifference”, the representative potential of those street-networks should not be read as a power vacuum. As Noa Ha has convincingly argued for the “European City”, those contact zones where public space is negotiated and constructed have to be analyzed in the light of historically continuous categories of difference. The colonial legacy of “branding, differentiating, hierarchizing” (Ha 2014:29) people and spaces has to be taken into consideration when dealing with “diversity-as-resource”. Subsequent planning and design strategies must take into account who has access to those contact zones, and be aware of a dangerous re-stigmatization of neighborhoods such as Neukölln, where only certain generalized expressions of diversity would be fostered under the expense of marginalizing others.

P OSTFACE This article goes back to a joint paper presented at the conference “Streets as Public Spaces and Drivers of Urban Prosperity”, organized by the by UN-Habitat, the Project for Public Spaces and the Ax:son Johnson Foundation in Buenos Aires, Argentina in June 2014 and has not been edited since. Parts of the research findings – mainly on Karl-Marx street – have been published by Laura Kemmer in form of a chapter on “Making Place? Representations of Diversity in Berlin-Neukölln”. The author thanks René Seyfarth and Frank Eckhardt as editors of Urban Minorities (2016), as well as

6

For more information on the methods and concrete approaches of infrastructuring, see the following publications from the research group Community Infrastructuring at the University of the Arts Berlin: Bergmann, M. et al. (2013), Unteidig, A. et al. (2013), Unteidig, A. (2013).

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the publisher Königshausen & Neumann for their kind permission to publish the present, original text. One of our common themes was irritation and dissatisfaction towards the disparity between the discursive “embrace of diversity” and the real live urban planning practice in our case studies. This was before the European refugee influx of 2015 and the terrorist attacks in Paris and Berlin. The pendulum of the general discourse seems to be swinging back from “diversity as a resource” towards “diversity as a challenge”, or maybe even as a “threat.” In the case of Neukölln, the practice of urban renewal is not affected and proceeds as before. Investments in physical upgrading of streets, sidewalks and some key sites around Karl-Marx street and Sonnenallee are being pushed along, while low level or symbolic participation projects are further being carried out. The political will of the local government to invest in the stabilization and conservation of city centers, dominated by large chain stores and a stable structure of classic retailers is prevailing all discursive trends. Meanwhile, the practice of a social and political design that works in a participatory manner has gained in interest. New terms such as “Design for Social Innovation”, “Design Activism”, “Adversarial Design”, or “Transformation Design” point to the urging question of how socio-political changes may be accompanied by design practice. The concept of “civic infrastructuring” (Herlo et al. 2015), mentioned in our conclusion, has been further developed by a team at the Design Research Lab at the Berlin University of The Arts and has moved from smaller interventions in neighborhoods to larger collaborations with municipal administrators. In the small city of Brandis in Saxony, the mayor invited the team and the inhabitants to work on a new vision for the city with new forms of civic participation methods focusing on social and digital connectedness. In another project with the state of North Rhine-Westphalia, members of the team work on analogue-digital infrastructure to connect issues and needs of local initiatives with the federal state.7

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See the project documentation blogs Mit-Mach-Stadt and Quartiersakademie NRW.

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B IBLIOGRAPHY Amin, A. (2002) ‘Ethnicity and the Multicultural City: Living with Diversity’. Environment and Planning A 34: 959–980. Aktion! Karl-Marx Strasse (A!KMS) (2008a) Wettbewerbsbeitrag “Aktive Stadtzentren”. Berlin: Bezirksamt Berlin-Neukölln. – (2008b) Auftaktveranstaltung: Gründung der Aktion! Karl-Marx-Strasse. Berlin: Bezirksamt Berlin-Neukölln. – (2011) Broadway Neukölln. Das Magazin der Karl-Marx Strasse (3). Berlin: Bezirksamt Berlin-Neukölln. – (2014) Karlson. Die Sanierungszeitung. Berlin: Bezirksamt BerlinNeukölln. Augé, M. (1995) Non-Places: Introduction to an Anthropology of Supermodernity. London: Blackwell. Bergmann, M., Herlo, B., Sametinger, F., Schubert, J. and Unteidig, A. (2013) ‘Community Infrastructuring – Designwerkzeuge zur partizipatorischen Stadtgestaltung’. in Ortsentwürfe. Urbanität im 21. Jahrhundert. Lange, B., Prasenc, G. and Saico, H. (eds.) Berlin: Jovis Verlag, 62–67. Bodirsky, K. (2012) ‘Culture for Competitiveness: Valuing Diversity in EU-Europe and the ‘Creative City’ of Berlin’. International Journal of Cultural Policy, 18 (4): 455–73. Buschkowsky, R. (2013) Neukölln ist überall. Berlin: Ullstein. Colomb, C. (2012) ‘Pushing the Urban Frontier: Temporary Uses of Space, City Marketing, and the Creative City Discourse in 2000s Berlin’. Journal of Urban Afffairs, 34 (2): 131–152. Council of Europe (2008) ‘The intercultural City: What it is and How to Make it Work.’ DGIV/Cult/IC(2008)01. Delgado, M. (1999) El animal público. Hacia una antropología de los espacios urbanos. Barcelona: Editorial Anagrama. – (2007) Sociedades Movedizas. Pasos hacia una antropología de las calles. Barcelona: Editorial Anagrama. Ehn, P. (2008) Participation in Design Things. Proceedings of the Tenth Anniversary Conference on Participatory Design 2008. Indiana: University Indianapolis: 92–101.

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Facetten-Magazin Neukoelln (2014a) ‘Alfred-Scholz-Platz’ [online] http:// facettenneukoelln.files.wordpress.com/2014/05/alfred-scholz-platz_ berlin- neukoelln.jpg, [accessed 15 June 2014] – (2014b) ‘Gesucht und nicht gefunden’ [online] http://facettenneukoelln. wordpress.com/2014/06/01/gesucht-und-nicht-gefunden/, [accessed 15 June 2014] Fainstein, S. (2010) The Just City. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press The Guardian (2004) ‘The taste of Banglatown’. 13 April [online] http:// www.theguardian.com/world/2004/apr/13/india.comment, [accessed 15 June 2014] Ha, N. (2014): ‘Perspektiven urbaner Dekolonisierung: Die europäische Stadt als ‚Contact Zone‘’. suburban, 2 (1): 27–48. Hall, S. and Datta, A. (2010) ‘The Translocal Street: Shop Signs and Local Multi-Culture along the Walworth Road, South London’. City, Culture and Society, 1: 69–77. Häußermann, H. and Kapphan, A. (2000) Berlin: von der geteilten zur gespaltenen Stadt? Sozialräumlicher Wandel seit 1990. Opladen: Leske+Budrich. Herlo, B., Sametinger, F., Unteidig, A. and Schubert J. (2015) ‘Participatory Design and the Hybrid City’. Proceedings of Hybrid City 2015: Data to the People. Athens: URIAC, 151–160. Huffschmid, A. (2014) ‘Lob (und Kritik) der Straße. Manuel Delgado zum öffentlichen als konfliktivem Raum’. Crolar – Critical Reviews of Latin American Research, 2 (2), 80–86. Intercultural Cities Programme (2008): ‘Citizenship and Participation in the Intercultural City’. Newsletter, 4. Jacobs, J. (1961) The Death and Life of Great American Cities. London: Random House. – (1996) Edge of Empire: Postcolonialism and the City. New York, NY: Routledge. Landry, C. and Wood, P. (2008) The Intercultural City: Planning for Diversity Advantage. London: Earthscan. Löw, M. (2008) ‘The Constitution of Space. The Structuration of Spaces through the Simultaneity of Effect and Perception’. European Journal of Social Theory, 11 (1), 25-49. Open Working Group on Sustainable Development Goals (2014) Keynote Speech by Dr Joan Clos (January).

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Sandercock, L. (1998) Towards Cosmopolis: Planning for Multicultural Cities. Chichester: Wiley. (2004) ‘Towards a Planning Imagination for the 21st Century’. Journal of the American Planning Association, 70 (2), 133–141. Sennett, R. (2005) ‘Civility. The Urban Age’ Bulletin 1. [online] http://down loads.lsecities.net/0_downloads/archive/Richard_Sennett-CivilityBulletin1.pdf, [accessed 15 June 2014] Tagesspiegel (2008) ‘Neukölln. Endstation Ghetto’ [online] http://www. tagesspiegel.de/berlin/neukoelln-endstation-ghetto/1273612.html [accessed 15 June 2014] UN-Habitat (2012a): The Urban Future: The Sixth Session of the World Urban Forum Programme. Nairobi: UN-Habitat. (2012b): State of the World’s Cities 2012/13: Prosperity of Cities. Malta: Progress Press. Unteidig, A. (2013) ‘Jenseits der Stellvertretung: Partizipatorisches Design und designerische Autorschaft’. in Wer gestaltet die Gestaltung? Praxis, Theorie und Geschichte des partizipatorischen Designs, Mareis, C., Held, M. and Joost, G. (eds.) Bielefeld: transcript Verlag, 157–163. Unteidig, A., Sametinger, F., Schubert, J. and Joost, G. (2013) Neighborhood Labs: Building Urban Communities through Civic Engagement. Proceedings of the Participatory Innovation Conference 2013. Lahti, Finland: Lappeenranta University of Technology. Vertovec, S. (2007) ‘Super-Diversity and its Implications’. Ethnic and Racial Studies 29(6): 1024–54. (2009) Transnationalism. Oxon and New York: Routledge. Waldinger, R. (2003) ‘Networks and Niches: The Continuing Significance of Ethnic Connections’. in Race, Ethnicity and Social Mobility in the US and UK. Loury, G., Modood, T. and Teles, S. (eds.) New York: Cambridge University Press, 343–362. Wood, P. (ed.) (2009) Intercultural Cities: Towards a Model for Intercultural Integration. Strasbourg: Council of Europe Publishing. Yildiz, E. (2013) Die weltoffene Stadt. Wie Migration Globalisierung zum urbanen Alltag Macht. Bielefeld: transcript Verlag.

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W EBSITES Mit-Mach-Stadt [online] http://projekt.mit-mach-stadt.de/ [accessed 17 November 2017] Quartiersakademie NRW [online] https://www.quartiersakademie.nrw.de/ quartier/de/home [accessed 17 November 2017] Quartiersmanagementgebiet Donaustraße-Nord/Berlin-Neukölln ‘Integriertes Handlungs- und Entwicklungskonzept 2012’ [online] http://donau strasse-nord.de/fileadmin/user_upload/IHK/FortschreibungIHEK_Donau Nord_2012_Entwurf2311_2_.pdf [accessed 15 June 2014]

Kitchen on the Run R ABEA H ASS

Figure 11: Container in Göteborg

Photo credit: Sebastian Haß

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In collaboration with the organization Über den Tellerrand, Professor Donatella Fioretti and her team at Design and Construction at the Technical University of Berlin, planned a one-to-one design project for Kitchen on the Run in the winter term of 2015/16. A typical shipping container was reconstructed as a mobile kitchen, complete with expandable modules and the entire interior. There were two main reasons for choosing a standardized container as the basic construction element: Practically, anyone can duplicate the structure. Symbolically, a shipping container becomes a reminder that goods can cross borders often with much more ease than people. For six months, members of Über den Tellerrand travelled with the container through Europe, using it to organize community cooking events with refugees and locals in different environments.

T HE

CONCEPT

Though refugees are very thankful for the help and support by social workers or language teachers, they cannot replace real friendships. Refugees wish for real and stable relationships with locals. (Cornelia Schu, quoted in Schiefer, 2017)

Friendships are built around the kitchen table. Because of the many times that we had experienced this first-hand – on trips, during studies abroad or when arriving in a new city – we, the founders of Kitchen on the Run, were deeply convinced of this idea. But what do people do if they are “on the run”? If they do not have a kitchen table anymore, where they can eat with friends and new neighbors, tell stories and exchange recipes? Where do newcomers and locals meet? Where do they find that common ground needed to enable conversations? In the spring of 2015, when more and more refugees were arriving in Germany, this is what we asked ourselves. Thus, we initiated the project Kitchen on the Run. The vision: a mobile kitchen in a container that could offer people on the run a cozy place to meet new neighbors, at least for one evening. In April 2015, Jule Schröder, Andreas Reinhard and I applied for the Advocate Europe Idea Challenge with our project idea: a mobile kitchen travelling through five European countries for five months that would offer people on the run and locals a place for encounters through cooking

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together. After Kitchen on the Run was selected as one of the winning projects, our initial vision soon became reality. Starting in March 2016, the mobile kitchen travelled from Bari in Italy, via Marseille in France, Duisburg in Germany, Deventer in the Netherlands to Gothenburg in Sweden. The route symbolized the path of refugees and their journey through Europe. Every day, people cooked with Kitchen on the Run. About 25 locals and refugees – people from various backgrounds and different ages – got the chance to meet at each event. Every night, one of the project’s guests took on the role of the host and shared a recipe from his or her traditional cuisine. The participants of Kitchen on the Run have cooked and told stories, they have cried and laughed together, they have sung and danced together. Every night has been as diverse as its guests. Yet, all events have had one thing in common: each of the more than 2400 guests who visited the container, coming from about 70 different countries, felt welcome! Whether Kitchen on the Run was in Bari in a public park or in a backyard of one of Europe’s poorest neighborhoods in Marseille, whether it was raining or the sun was shining, whether we were only twenty people gathering or well over forty: the well-equipped container created a cozy atmosphere, being functional and flexible at the same time, adapting to its guests and their needs every night. People who came to Kitchen on the Run seemed to settle into a space where they could be themselves, where they could meet and come together on an equal footing. Cooking and enjoying the food prepared together served as an icebreaker and as a tool of communication when a common language was missing. Familiar smells became messengers of emotions, family recipes opened doors to other cultures that suddenly felt less different. As Babu, a guest from Gambia, put it: “In Africa we say: Cooking together and eating at the same table brings peace.” That is exactly what we, the team of Kitchen on the Run, experienced every night on a small scale.

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K EY

ELEMENTS OF SUCCESS

When looking back at the journey through Europe, the question is, what are the key elements of Kitchen on the Run that made the concept so successful? Why did it work in every part of Europe that we visited and with such diverse groups of people? We interviewed more than a hundred of our guests in an online survey and set up feedback rounds with all local partners after the completion of the journey. In addition, we gathered many insights from our observations during the journey and the various evenings of cooking. Looking at all these findings, we can distinguish ten characteristics that were key elements of the success of Kitchen on the Run’s concept:

1. The container as an open and neutral space for encounters: Open to three sides, the construction invites everyone to step in to the space. The physical barriers keeping someone from participating are, literally, very low. Every evening, passers-by just walked in and asked about the concept, attracted by the visibly positive atmosphere and good smells. Kitchen on the Run and its team were also guests at each spot where we set up. Thus, the container was seen as a neutral place. At the same time, the container seemed to radiate a cozy and safe atmosphere – at least that is what we were told by our guests. 2. Encounters on a “level playing field”: All the participants who joined Kitchen on the Run were there for the first time. Thus, refugees and locals started off on a level playing field. Getting involved and creating a tasty meal is connecting, and even without a common language, everyone could help out. As Ana from Brazil declared after an evening of cooking in Bari: “If you sit at the same table, barriers are broken down.” 3. Food as a positive and easy way to reach out to people: Cooking and eating is an important part of all cultures and so is, mostly, the practice of inviting guests. The idea here was very simple, yet not trivial. Everyone felt connected to the concept and each evening’s highlight was grounded in the universal ritual of sharing food around a table. As Hus-

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sein from Afghanistan, one of the project’s participants, put it: “Here we are all cooking together – and that is connecting people.” 4. People interacting with one another: Kitchen on the Run made sure to engage all participants. When people did something together, for example, chopping onions or frying eggplant, they immediately entered into a dialogue with each other. Since there were different tasks and the concept was flexible, everyone could find his or her way of participating. Be it as a host and teaching others how to cook one’s favorite recipe, be it as a quiet observer or by playing football with the kids outside the container. 5. Kitchen on the Run creates a setting for being together: We started each evening with equipping everyone with a nametag and an apron, and like that everybody immediately became part of the group. We moderated the first “get-to-know-each-other” tasks, thus helping the participants to overcome the first barriers of contact. Finally, a joint ritual in the end of each cooking event properly concluded the evening. In between, there were about four-five hours in which people got to know the other guests, started properly talking to each other, and consequently, got a first glimpse of the everyday life of the “other.” 6. We truly believe in our concept: We, the team behind Kitchen on the Run, never doubted that we could reach out to people with our approach. We were, ourselves, passionate hosts and tried to pass this spirit on to everyone in the container. Our aim was to provide a safe space and a good setting for starting conversations and, further along the line, friendships. During the evening, however, we were open to suggestions from our guests, keeping it flexible enough to meet the specific needs of the group of the day. 7. Everyone is invited – everyone comes voluntarily: With Kitchen on the Run we aspired to reach out to different individuals. We approached younger guests via social media, such as Facebook. Other we contacted through personal invitations, with posters in the neighborhood, during church services or at the “information hour” in refugee homes. This

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way, we created a diversity amongst our guests in regard to their social and ethnical background, their age and their origin. 8. Becoming part of a larger story: As the container travelled through Europe, stopped at various places and every evening hosted a new group of people, each participant became part of the journey and left their own traces in the container: a nametag on the wall of the container, a dot on the map indicating his or her origin and so on. Everybody could discover the traces of those who had already been part of Kitchen on the Run and leave something for the next groups to come. This helped to create a feeling of a “cross-border togetherness.” At the same time, most guests only participated once and this single visit made it a special occasion – a once-in-a-lifetime event that most participants will remember for quite a while. For example, a local guest from Duisburg sent us season greetings at the end of 2016, stating that her visit to Kitchen on the Run was definitely one of her personal highlights of the past year. 9. Diverse networks and various expertise: We did not make this journey alone. In fact, a number of networks supported us, on various levels, along the way. We had reliable partners at each location who put us in contact with the local society and helped us understand the context of our surroundings. In addition, various actors provided input, shared networks with us and helped making Kitchen on the Run visible to a larger public. 10. Media coverage and communications: During our journey, news reports about Kitchen on the Run, as well as blog articles, pictures and movies in our own communications channels, already served as an indicator that our concept was working. This encouraged even more people to join us as they put trust in the impact of our idea and wanted to become part of movement created by Kitchen on the Run. Additionally, the communications channels spread our ideas across borders and reached out to a virtual community who might be inspired to start similar projects, enabling encounters on a level playing field between refugees and locals.

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These ten characteristics show that the container as a central structure and neutral space was one of the key elements which made Kitchen on the Run an excellent meeting place. As a team, we learned that it is sufficient to create a proper space where people can meet, the rest will happen on its own. As Aliou, originally from Mali and who cooked with us in Marseille, pointed out: “Around the table of the Kitchen on the Run, I have made new friends who are now part of my life journey.” Thus, in the following section we will describe the building process of the container, showing how fruitful cooperation between civil society actors and architecture students can be.

T HE

BUILDING PROCESS OF THE CONTAINER

To transform a typical shipping container into a mobile kitchen, the Kitchen on the Run team contacted Professor Donatella Fioretti, the Chair of Design and Construction at the Technical University of Berlin. The task set out for her students was to design a structure that could be built by two to three people in a single day. Besides from a functioning cooking area, a space for community cooking and dining was required. It was also important that everything would function reliably during the half-year long journey the container would make, and that potential damages could easily be repaired by the team members themselves. Through a competition, and in collaboration with all the students, the most compelling strategies were extracted and conclusively combined into a master plan. The aim of the project was to convey the complexity of designing and building. All in all, it took eighteen weeks from the first drafts to the final realization. Working on a project from concept development to realization allowed the students to face the central questions of a building process combined with the core of architectural thinking. They learned how to work with various stakeholders within a tight schedule and a limited budget. This “learning by doing” approach presented the students with real-life limitations and forced them to develop new design solutions with simple materials. The realization phase showed that communication is the crucial tool in a building process, both for the users and for the construction team. Seeing the process through, from start to finish, promoted craftsmanship and planning skills, and allowed the students to understand designing and building as tools for construction research.

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T HE

FINAL SKETCH OF THE CONTAINER

The heart of the design is a kitchenette that is accessible from all sides when the container is open, allowing several people to cook together. A suspension of round-steel above the kitchen island provides more storage space and facilities for lighting. At the side door of the container, a “kiosk” can be folded in or out as required. The light steel construction provides two different expansion states. In the semi-open state, the folded-up floor acts as an information counter or bar. If the floor is unfolded, the table attached to the steel frame moves completely into the outdoor area and offers additional access to the container. Floor-to-ceiling wooden shelving is placed at the back of the container, where all dishes and cooking utensils, as well as tools, are stored. Light foldable tables and benches made out of wood-based panels form the shelf front and the furniture in one. The attachment of a skeleton construction to the long side of the container can be opened through folding doors and allows for at least a doubling of the size of the actual usable area. This kind of plug-type construction can be built by two to three people, and is made of prefabricated pillars and girders with attached floor segments and slim steely bracing bands. The roof is made partly of prefabricated truck tarpaulins. They are carried in channel rails between the roof trusses. The essential roof pitch is created by the threedimensional folding of the tarpaulins.

C ONCLUSION

AND OUTLOOK

When starting the cooperation with Professor Donatella Fioretti in summer of 2016, we only had a vague notion of what we wanted to achieve with Kitchen on the Run. We had an idea and a vision: to enable encounters at a kitchen table between refugees and locals. Looking back and analyzing our findings from the journey, we now know that we intuitively did the right thing when putting a lot of effort and resources into the building process of the container. The container itself turned out to be the heart of the project and thus an important “partner” to us. Designed with many elaborate details, it attracted people through its outer appearance and a well thoughtthrough concept of lighting. Once guests started cooking with us, thanks to the open-shelf concept and symbols that guided users around, it only took a

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few minutes for them to find their way around the kitchen. Being able to use the kitchen intuitively made everyone feel at home and created a friendly and safe atmosphere. As the co-founder of the project, Jule Schröder, once put it, amazed after many, many successful evenings of cooking: “It seems like when our guests are entering ‘container land’, they forget about their fears and prejudices, [they] relax and feel comfortable.” This insight has inspired us to keep the container on the road. For the next two years, Kitchen on the Run will tour around rural German areas and small German cities, enabling many more encounters between refugees and locals.

B IBLIOGRAPHY Schiefer, D. (2017) ‘Was Flüchtlinge wirklich wichtig ist’ [online] http://www.bosch-stiftung.de/content/language1/html/72433.asp [accessed 16 November 2017]

Author Biographies

Malte Bergmann studied sociology at the Freie Universität Berlin. Since 2007, he is an academic urban researcher and scholar, working in consultancy and with community projects. His main research interest is to understand community formations in today’s complex and diverse urbanity and to co-develop possible bottom-up development trajectories. He has done extensive fieldwork on place-making practice of immigrant entrepreneurs in Berlin. Derived from his research on professionalization strategies of young fashion designers, he helped start up the community fashion label Made in Neukölln. At the moment, he is working for the German Society of Design Theory and Research (DGTF) and on his PhD Project. Greta Colombo is a landscape architect, registered at the Italian Order of Architects. She graduated in École Nationale Supérieure du Paysage in Versailles and has studied in Turin, Genova and Rome. She collaborated with various practices in Turin and Paris. Together with Lorenza Manfredi, she runs the collaborative practice Stellepolari, exploring the boundaries of landscape, architecture and art. They work on landscapes, with a focus on their ephemeral and intangible components. Greta and Lorenza express their vision through a variety of artistic methods, from space planning to design, from performances to events, which they apply both to site investigation and project narration. Jan Edler is the co-creator of the Flussbad project. He is also a founding member and chairman of the management board of the Flussbad Berlin Association. He studied architecture at the Rheinisch-Westfälische Technische Hochschule Aachen and at the Bartlett School of Architecture in London. Starting in 1997, Jan began working with his brother, Tim, on numerous

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projects at the interface between art and architecture – initially as part of Kunst und Technik, a trans-disciplinary artists’ group co-founded by the Edler brothers and, since 2000, as part of realities:united, a studio for art and architecture. Jan has been a member of the artistic advisory board at the Transmediale Festival for Media Art and Digital Culture since 2010. In 2014, he was a fellow at the German Academy in Rome, Villa Massimo. Nathalie Fari is an independent performer, researcher, and art and theatre educator working at the interface of artistic research and bodywork. She holds a degree in Art Education from the Fundação Armando Alvares Penteado University, as well in acting from the TUCA theatre school of the Pontifícia Universidade Católica de São Paulo and the Centro de Pesquisa Teatral Institute under the direction of Antunes Filho. In 2009, she completed a Master of Arts degree in Space Strategies - Exploratory Art in Public Contexts from the Berlin Weissensee School of Art. Matthew Gandy is a cultural, urban, and environmental geographer with particular interests in landscape, infrastructure, and more recently biodiversity. He is professor of Cultural and Historical Geography at the University of Cambridge. His research ranges from aspects of environmental history, including epidemiology, to contemporary intersections between nature and culture including the visual arts. His book Concrete and clay: reworking nature in New York City (MIT Press, 2002) was winner of the 2003 Spiro Kostof award. His book The fabric of space: water, modernity, and the urban imagination (The MIT Press, 2014) was awarded the 2014 AAG Meridian Award for Outstanding Scholarly Work in Geography and the 2016 award for the most innovative book in planning history from the International Planning History Society. He is currently writing a research monograph on bio-diversity and urban nature and is Principal Investigator for the ERC Advanced Grant Rethinking Urban Nature. Matthew was Founder and Director of the UCL Urban Laboratory (2005-11) and is a cofounder of the Urban Salon. Since 2013, he has been co-editor of The International Journal of Urban and Regional Research. He was elected a fellow of the Academy of Social Sciences in 2015 and a fellow of the British Academy in 2016.

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Annette Geiger is professor of Theory and History of Design at the Hochschule für Künste in Bremen. She completed her doctorate thesis Urbild und fotografischer Blick on aesthetics and image theory in the 18th century, at the Institute for Art History, University of Stuttgart. Since then, she has taught design and cultural history at L’Institut Supérieur Des Arts Appliqués in Paris, at the Berlin University of Arts, and at the Berlin Weissensee School of Art. She teaches and researches about design history, visual sciences and aesthetic theories about art, design and everyday life, fashion, film and photography. Rabea Haß holds a PhD in sociology and has worked for many years in the field of applied research at the Hertie School of Governance and the Centre for Social Investment at Heidelberg University. Her fields of expertise include impact assessment, organisational development, crisis and disaster management as well as mediation and facilitation skills. In 2015, she cofounded the organisation Kitchen on the Run that supports and promotes communication and mutual understanding between European locals and newcomers from all over the world. With a shipping container remodelled into a mobile kitchen and dining space, she travelled with Kitchen on the Run through Italy, France, Germany, the Netherlands and Sweden from March until August 2016. Every day the kitchen container hosted a group of 15 to 20 newcomers and locals who cooked and ate together. Stefanie Hennecke is professor of Open Space Planning at the University of Kassel. She was junior professor for History and Theory of Landscape Architecture at the Technical University of Munich. After studying landscape architecture and landscape planning at the Technical Universities of Munich and Berlin, she graduated at the Berlin University of the Arts with a dissertation on the Berlin urban development policy in the period after reunification. Between 2001 and 2009, she worked as a research assistant at the University of the Arts Berlin in the field of horticulture and open-air development and coordinated the establishment of the Graduate School for the Arts and the Sciences of the Berlin University of the Arts. Laura Kemmer is a PhD candidate in Urban Anthropology at the HafenCity University Hamburg and associate fellow at the Centre for Metropolitan Studies, Berlin. Her current research draws from the case of the

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oldest tramway of Latin America, in Rio de Janeiro, to explore how transport infrastructures transform urban collectivity. Laura combines urban assemblage approaches with feminist studies of affect to study processes of “Bonding” – a notion that helps her understand what holds “the city” together, and in particular, how infrastructural promises dis/connect residents and techno-material elements. She is the author of book chapters on ‘Making Place? Representations of Diversity in Berlin-Neukölln’ (Bauhaus Urban Studies, 2016) and ‘Diversity as a Challenge? Decolonial Perspectives on Democratization’ (Routledge, 2016). Toby Austin Locke is a research student and associate lecture in the Department of Anthropology at Goldsmiths College, University of London. His current research is based on a practice-based attempt to establish selforganised commons in an abandoned building in New Cross, London. Toby is also the author of The Living and the Dead, published on Repeater Books in 2016 and a Contributing Editor to Cultural Anthropology. Flavia Alice Mameli graduated as product designer at the Berlin University of Arts and has worked in the field of design and architecture ever since. In 2015, she published an ethnographic and visual arts portrait of a former wasteland in the middle of Berlin: Gleisdreieck / Parklife Berlin (transcript Verlag Bielefeld). In her research, Flavia investigates the intersection of urban ethnography and design thinking. She is also a passionate Berlin flaneuse. Lorenza Manfredi is an architect and doctoral student at the IUAV Venice, Italy. She did a post-graduate research program at the UdK Berlin and graduated at the Politecnico di Milano. She has worked and studied in Milan, Istanbul, Cottbus, Weimar and Berlin. Together with Greta Colombo, she runs the collaborative practice Stellepolari, exploring the boundaries of landscape, architecture and art. They work on landscapes, with a focus on their ephemeral and intangible components. Greta and Lorenza express their vision through a variety of artistic methods, from space planning to design, from performances to events, which they apply both to site investigation and project narration.

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Ralf Pasel-Krautheim is the founding partner of pasel.künzel architects Rotterdam and of Pasel-K architects Berlin. Focusing on experimental housing typologies and construction in an international context, the office explores the intersection between research, academic education and architecture in practice. The practice has received numerous awards for innovative housing strategies, including the International Bauhaus Award for the transformation of slum housing in Chile, as well as for new types of urban housing in the Netherlands. Following international Guest Professor roles at the Universidad Catolica de Santiago de Chile and the Rotterdam Academy of Architecture and Urban Design, Ralf Pasel-Krautheim was appointed Professor of Design and Construction Technologies at the Architecture Faculty of the Technical University Berlin in 2012. His academic research centres on themes such as Research by Design, Situational Urbanism (from neighborhood to flat), Climate Generated Design and the Development of New Housing Strategies. In 2009, Ralf Pasel-Krautheim was the curator of the exhibition “Parallel Cases” at the 4th International Architecture Biennale in Rotterdam. Franziska Polleter is an architect and urban designer with a research focus on new forms of living. Currently, she works as a consultant at the Federal Office for Building and Planning, Berlin. She is especially interested in the impact of Co-Living-Houses on the development of cities. She holds a BA (TUM) in Architecture and Urban Design of the Technical University Munich and the Technion – Israel Institute of Technology, and a MA in Architecture and Urban Design from the TU Berlin. Tilman Reinhardt works a lawyer and agricultural economist for WMRC in Berlin. He specialises in the law of urban planning, infrastructure and public procurement. He received his PhD at the University of Munich and spent part of his legal traineeship at the Berlin Senate department for Urban Development. In his work, he focuses especially on urban agriculture and has written a manual on legal aspects of aquaponics. As a Mercator Fellow on International Affairs he worked for FAO Vietnam, bevecon management GmbH in Cuba and the EU delegation to Mozambique. Mathilda Rosengren is a visual anthropologist and geographer, especially interested in the relational structuring of urban nature. She holds a BA in

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anthropology and media (2010, Goldsmiths, University of London) and an MA in visual and media anthropology (2014, Freie Universität Berlin). She currently studies for a PhD in Geography (University of Cambridge), where she explores the interrelations between notions of “living with difference”, “unplanned” urban nature, and official urban planning in Berlin and Gothenburg. Her research forms part of the larger research project Rethinking Urban Nature (ERC Advanced Grant) headed by Prof. Matthew Gandy (University of Cambridge). Josefine Sarkez-Knudsen is an ethnologist with a special interest in migration and urban design. She holds a BA in information science and cultural communication from the Royal School of Library and Information Science, and a MA in European ethnology from the SAXO Institute at the University of Copenhagen. Marrying her particular interests in migration and urban design, she explores the complexities of intercultural encounters in the context of urban everyday life. Josefine is currently working as a part-time lecturer at the University of Copenhagen. Anja Schwanhäußer is a Berlin-based urban anthropologist and street art activist. She has published books on cities, popular culture and subculture and has taught at various universities, including Humboldt University Berlin, Vienna University and Georg-August-University Göttingen. Additionally, she has worked in fringe theatres in Berlin and London and founded the art collective HorseArt, which carries out urban interventions. Her research interests include urban anthropology, ethnography, cultural studies, gender, animal studies, and subcultures. Beatrice Walthall is an IGK-Fellow and doctoral candidate at the Humboldt University Berlin. Her academic background is in human geography, urban studies and sociology. Located at the intersection of urban, social and political studies, her work investigates the dynamics of urban food governance, with a regional focus on North America and Europe. In particular, she is interested in the role of civil society in urban food governance and questions how civic-led political approaches and actions reshape urban food policy-making. She is also a founding member of the Berlin based working group Food and the City.

Social Sciences Alexander Schellinger, Philipp Steinberg (eds.)

The Future of the Eurozone How to Keep Europe Together: A Progressive Perspective from Germany October 2017, 202 p., pb. 29,99 € (DE), 978-3-8376-4081-6 E-Book PDF: 26,99 € (DE), ISBN 978-3-8394-4081-0 EPUB: 26,99€ (DE), ISBN 978-3-7328-4081-6

Franziska Meister

Racism and Resistance How the Black Panthers Challenged White Supremacy April 2017, 242 p., pb. 19,99 € (DE), 978-3-8376-3857-8 E-Book: 17,99 € (DE), ISBN 978-3-8394-3857-2

MAIK FIELITZ, LAURA LOTTE LALOIRE (EDS.)

TROUBLE ON THE FAR RIGHT

CONTEMPORARY RIGHT-WING STRATEGIES AND PRACTICES IN EUROPE

Maik Fielitz, Laura Lotte Laloire (eds.)

Trouble on the Far Right Contemporary Right-Wing Strategies and Practices in Europe 2016, 208 p., pb. 19,99 € (DE), 978-3-8376-3720-5 E-Book PDF: 17,99 € (DE), ISBN 978-3-8394-3720-9 EPUB: 17,99€ (DE), ISBN 978-3-7328-3720-5

Political Science

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Social Sciences James Morrow

Where the Everyday Begins A Study of Environment and Everyday Life October 2017, 220 p., hardcover 99,99 € (DE), 978-3-8376-4077-9 E-Book: 99,99 € (DE), ISBN 978-3-8394-4077-3

Cameron Harrington, Clifford Shearing

Security in the Anthropocene Reflections on Safety and Care August 2017, 196 p., hardcover 79,99 € (DE), 978-3-8376-3337-5 E-Book: 79,99 € (DE), ISBN 978-3-8394-3337-9

Ilker Ataç, Gerda Heck, Sabine Hess, Zeynep Kasli, Philipp Ratfisch, Cavidan Soykan, Bediz Yilmaz (eds.)

movements. Journal for Critical Migration and Border Regime Studies Vol. 3, Issue 2/2017: Turkey’s Changing Migration Regime and its Global and Regional Dynamics November 2017, 230 p., pb. 24,99 € (DE), 978-3-8376-3719-9

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