David Hamers and Joost Tennekes PBL Netherlands Environmental Assessment Agency, The Netherlands
Planning Theory 2015, Vol. 14(3) 227– 247
Abstract
In recent years, enclosed residential domains have emerged in Dutch housing developments. Commentators fear that enclosed residential domains will lead to a loss of the public realm. This article considers such claims. Based on a conceptual analysis, it is argued that the question of how enclosed residential domains imply a loss of public realm should be addressed by distinguishing between three theoretical perspectives: the social perspective, the market perspective, and the civic perspective. It is also argued that the specific morphological characteristics of Dutch enclosed residential domains should be taken into account. Because of the absence of closed gates, for instance, many of the Dutch enclosed residential domains differ from gated communities abroad.
Keywords
conceptual analysis, enclosed residential domains, gated communities, morphological analysis, The Netherlands, theories on the public realm
Introduction
Central question
Over the past 10 or 15 years, new types of enclosed residential domains (ERDs) have emerged in Dutch housing developments. Although ERDs were a part of the urban tradition of the Netherlands until the 19th century (the béguinages), the re-emergence of this type of development has been met with considerable criticism. Central to such criticism is the claim that these developments will lead to a loss of public realm. This article considers such claims.
The central question is to what extent Dutch ERDs can be considered to affect the public realm. To answer this question, we conceptually analyze the (theoretical) frames of the debate and set these against the physical (morphological) appearance of contemporary ERDs in the Netherlands.
Theoretical framework
The claim that ERDs pose a threat to the public realm implies a certain definition of the “public realm.” First, it is important to distinguish between “public space” and “public realm.” Space can be physically “public,” in the sense that people can enter freely, but the “public realm” is a cognitive construction, a particular meaning we attach to a particular space. A place can be accessible to all, and yet not be part of the public realm, such as a quay in a harbor facility. The term “public realm” is even used to refer to spaces that are not physical at all, such as newspapers or the internet. Of course, physical spaces give us certain clues as to whether they should be seen as “public” or not, for example, by the presence or absence of fences and gates. Yet, whether we judge a space to be part of the “public realm” depends on the way we define it as much as on its physical aspects.
Second, it is important to understand that the concept of the public realm is multifaceted. A variety of theoretical perspectives lead to various interpretations of what constitutes the difference between the public and private realm. In this article, we argue that the question of whether or not ERDs will lead to a loss of public realm is answered differently from each perspective. Using and elaborating on the approaches distinguished by Weintraub (1997) and Borret (2001), we perform a conceptual analysis that defines the three main perspectives. The first perspective is the social perspective, exemplified by Lyn Lofland (1998), who gives a sociological account of the interaction between people in public spaces. In the Netherlands, there is Arnold Reijndorp’s (2004, 2007) work on the social perspective.
The second, market-oriented perspective, positions the public realm using the dichotomy between state and society. (Neo)liberalism in the tradition of Friedrich Von Hayek (1967) is the inspiration for these voices in the discussion. In recent years, Chris Webster (2002, 2003), among others, has contributed to a further development of the market perspective with regard to common interest developments (CIDs) and gated communities. The third frame is the civic perspective. The work by Hannah Arendt (1958) is the source of this line of thought, in which the public realm is defined as the place for civic action and for debates about the good life. Another well-known international author on this perspective is Richard Sennett (1970, 1977, 1991), who focuses on public life in contemporary cities. A recurring topic in the writings of these two authors is the question of what it means (and takes) to be a citizen—to actively participate in and be part of a political society.
These perspectives not only account for the observed “usual” interactions in the public and private realms, but also for “good” or “appropriate” behavior. They often combine descriptive and normative lines of reasoning. And some writers combine different perspectives in their reasoning. For instance, some of Sennett’s writings combine elements from both the social and the civic perspective. In the Netherlands, this is the case in Reijndorp’s work. Therefore, we would like to stress that the classification is a schematic one: it serves analytical purposes. In the section “Three theoretical perspectives on the public realm”, we elaborate on the three perspectives and pay attention to some boundaries being crossed between social and civic perspectives.
Morphological characteristics of Dutch ERDs
Claims with regard to a possible threat to the public realm, based on these three theoretical approaches, will be set against the specific spatial character of Dutch ERDs. There may be good reason to worry about a loss of public realm, in theory, or in other countries, but how does this fit with the physical situation in Dutch cities? To what extent are ERDs publicly inaccessible, for example? To address this issue, we build on findings from earlier research in the Netherlands, mainly by Hamers et al. (2007).
For an accurate evaluation, it is necessary to distinguish between the property and management aspects of residential domains and that of physical enclosures. In 2009, Van Twist and Van Velzen (2009) counted approximately 130 private domains in the Netherlands, in which the common (collective) space (such as courtyards, communal gardens, or access roads) was private property, and where the design, maintenance, and supervision of this space were not in the hands of local government. Private domains, however, are not necessarily physically enclosed. There are collective domains that are accessible to all, such as parks around country houses. In contrast, there are publicly owned parts of the city that are closed to the general public, such as certain narrow alleys in the inner city of Amsterdam, which are closed in order to prevent disturbance from visitors to the red-light district.
For the purposes of this article, we define ERDs as clusters of dwellings surrounded by some kind of physical enclosure, forming a collective domain and/or containing collective (shared) amenities. We argue that when describing the Dutch situation, the term “gated community” should be avoided. Not only does this term fail to accurately describe the physical and social realities in the Netherlands, it is also, at least within the Dutch debate, charged with the very normative associations explored in this article. On the basis of a morphological analysis of the physical characteristics (size, layout, and architecture) of Dutch ERDs, combined with a spatial analysis of their location (inner cities, suburbs, and countryside), Hamers et al. (2007) distinguish between six types of ERDs in a variety of environments. Enclosed residential blocks and towers (1) are often located in inner cities, or in exclusive waterfront locations. Enclosed residential streets and squares (2) can be found in inner-city and suburban locations. Enclosed recreational housing parks (residential domains that include recreational functions, such as a golf course) (3) are mainly located on the edge of cities or in the countryside. New courtyards (to differentiate them from the traditional béguinages) (4) are often located in rather recently built suburbs (the so-called Vinex neighborhoods). New buildings resembling castles (with high walls and tower-like architecture around a square) (5) can be found outside or on the edge of the city. And, finally, new country estates (in which the buildings are composed in unity with a surrounding park) (6) are situated outside the city.
These ERDs differ from the gated communities in other countries. As has been shown in many recent (comparative) studies (e.g. Glasze et al., 2006; Cséfalvay and Webster, 2012) in different countries (and cities), varying socioeconomic and institutional circumstances account for diverging developments in the field of residential enclaves. The same holds true for the physical appearance of these enclaves. In some regions, walls and fences are the dominant form of enclosure, whereas, in others, cul-de-sacs result in forms of territorialization. In this respect, we concur with both Atkinson and Blandy (2005: 178) and Charmes (2010: 357), who speak of “a continuum” of barriers. In the Netherlands, ERDs are typically much smaller in scale than most enclaves abroad. They seldom accommodate non-residential functions, such as shops. Fences and gates appear occasionally but are usually absent. More than in other countries, Dutch ERDs have “soft edges” such as a park, golf course, water garden, or vertical barriers, such as steps. These soft edges mean that non-residents could enter the area, but are discouraged from doing so. In short, the Dutch situation can be described as “sheltered by design” rather than “secured by design”—Oscar Newman’s (1972) famous maxim (Hamers et al., 2007).
Evaluating the situation in the Netherlands, it is important to acknowledge that, at present, there are too few systematic empirical research findings available to present a definitive assessment of life in Dutch ERDs and its consequences for the public realm from any of the three perspectives introduced above. However, a focus on the different aspects of ERDs highlighted in the varying perspectives enables us to better understand the moral discussion and explore the likely impacts of Dutch ERDs on the public realm. Furthermore, from a planning theory point of view, the analysis may contribute to (re) consider the impact of different frames on the assessment of residential enclaves in the international debate.
The following section introduces the debate on ERDs in the Netherlands. The section “Three theoretical perspectives on the public realm” elaborates on the three theoretical approaches that frame the varying perspectives on public and private realms. The section “To what extent are ERDs likely to affect the public realm in the Netherlands?”, arguing from the different perspectives, considers the extent to which ERDs are likely to affect the public realm in the Netherlands. In the section “Conclusion”, conclusions are presented.
The debate on ERDs in the Netherlands
With the recent interest in private and gated communities, Dutch academics and professionals in spatial policy, urban planning, and design have joined a lively international debate. This debate, previously, focused on developments in the United States, South America, South Africa, and Asia, whereas recently attention was turned to Europe, where there has been a striking increase in the number of these types of communities (see Hamers et al. (2007), Lohof and Reijndorp (2006) and Van Twist and Van Velzen (2009) for the Netherlands; Claessens (2007) for Belgium; Raposo (2003) and Wehrhahn and Raposo (2006) for Spain and Portugal; Stoyanov and Frantz (2006) for Bulgaria; Pérouse (2003) for Turkey; Sabatier (2005) for France; and Manzi and Smith-Bowers (2005) for the United Kingdom).
In the Netherlands, the emergence of ERDs has given rise to a predominantly critical debate among academics, policymakers, planners, and designers. The debate has been heavily influenced by the international debate on gated communities. In fact, the gated communities of the United States are referred to more often than the existing Dutch ERDs. Many critics fear the rise of gated communities, a concept which has strong negative connotations in the Dutch context (see, for example, De Bois, 2010; Kramer, 2006; Von der Dunk, 2011).
One of the most critical voices is that of the Flemish philosopher Lieven De Cauter (2004), who predicts the birth of “cellular cities.” According to De Cauter (2004), we live in an increasingly “capsular society.” The physical expression of this is “… the wall, the closing-off, the gate, the fence, the castle” (p. 45). This kind of town planning and architecture, he argues, is bound to have a great social, cultural, and political impact, leading to “artificial environments”; the “capsule abolishes the public realm.” Apart from the more prophetic language of De Cauter, there are also authors who assess specifically Dutch examples. Hellinga (2005), for example, criticizes the closed nature of an estate in a down-at-heel immigrant area in the west part of Amsterdam, which, according to her, signifies a victory of security over openness. She calls it a fortification of the wealthy who lock themselves in behind high walls to defend themselves against an insecure neighborhood.
Hokken (2004), meanwhile, has a totally different opinion. He argues that investors want a good profit from their investment in real estate, and that they exclude risk as much as possible. According to them, public space is a risk. Perhaps, from an international point of view, Hokken’s contribution to the debate is nothing new (cf. Cervero and Duncan, 2004; Ihlanfeldt 2004), but in the Dutch context, it can be considered rather provocative as it calls into question the traditional national policy on mixed neighborhoods.
Hajer (1997), the last voice from the discussion we will mention here, warns of “monocultural enclaves” in the Netherlands. He refers to McKenzie’s (1994) “privatopias” in the United States. Although Hajer acknowledges the differences between the Netherlands and the United States, he observes how the retreat of the central state leads to a situation in which citizens establish for themselves places where they feel safe, and which function as separate units from the rest of society. Hajer (1997) does not reject the idea of a certain cultural homogeneity, but he does denounce “total spatial and socialcultural segregation” (p. 78).
Three theoretical perspectives on the public realm
Within the debate on ERDs, there is a reference, whether explicit or implicit, to the values associated with what is called “the public realm.” Any proper assessment of the effect of ERDs on the public realm in the Netherlands will not be possible without exploring this frame of the debate. What is meant when we talk about a “public realm?” Distinguishing between the private and the public realm is a classical topic in political, moral, and social philosophy. Building on the approaches distinguished by Weintraub (1997) and Borret (2001), the following section presents three different perspectives on this dichotomy, revealing various aspects of the frame of the discussion: the social perspective, the market perspective, and the civic perspective. As already mentioned in the introduction, we would like to stress that this classification is a schematic one. It serves analytical purposes.
The social perspective
According to Lofland (1998), whether a place is part of the private or public realm depends on the interaction between the people there. Lofland (1998: 53–59, 229, 231– 241) distinguishes between three types of social interaction and interaction partners. Fleeting relationships are the most representative of interaction within the public realm, particularly brief encounters between strangers. Interaction in the public realm is interaction between strangers or with people that are only known categorically, such as the policeman, the baker, and the homeless person. These interactions are characterized by an implicit code, a common understanding about what is appropriate and what is not when one meets (or even just sees) someone whom one does not know. Interaction between family members and close friends has its own characteristics and signifies that they consider themselves to be in the private realm. Therefore, when a couple starts to kiss in the train, they are “privatizing” that particular part of the public space. Lofland distinguishes a third realm, the parochial. Here the interaction is between people who consider themselves members of a community.
This leads us to the question of what a community is. Lofland (1998) mentions a “sense of commonality” (p. 10), but what does this consist of? Is it enough to share the same space and the same facilities for simple practical reasons? We think this is hardly the “sense of commonality” Lofland has in mind. We distinguish three other aspects of this “sense of commonality,” which are together constitutive of a community. First, there is a “biographical community,” in which people know (part of) each other’s life history. Second, in a community people share particular values, ideas about what is normal, worthwhile, good or evil. Such a “value community” can be “thick,” as for example in communes. Equally, a value community can also be “thin,” one in which members simply share a particular lifestyle, such as living in a home for the elderly, student accommodation, or in a small suburb for family homes. Third, in a community, members show—to a certain extent—solidarity: they feel affected by the fate of others and compelled to take some responsibility for the good of the community as a whole. Some of these three ingredients—biographical community, value community, and solidarity— must be present in order for us to speak of a community as opposed to a purely pragmatic collective.
In short, from what we call the social perspective, the public, private, and parochial realms are defined by the type of interaction occurring between the people within them. But at the same time, this perspective is not only descriptive. It often has a normative undertone, stressing the importance for people to meet “strangers,” nonmembers of their community. Interactions within the public realm may not end up in value communities, but Lofland stresses that they do have social value. They offer an environment for learning, pleasure, communication, the enactment of social arrangements, and, possibly, tolerance (cf. Vesselinov et al., 2007). They can do this by providing individuals the opportunity to experience “limited, segmental, episodic, distanced links between self and other” (Lofland, 1998: 242). Sennett (1970, 1977, 1991) takes this argument one step further. He pays particular attention to the political potential of social interactions within the public domain. We will elaborate on this in the section on the civic perspective.
In this line of thought, precisely these noncommunal, nonintimate, even fleeting relationships between people make the public realm valuable. Various researchers have focused on varying elements of the public space and public realm that are involved in bringing about the above-mentioned relationships between strangers. Jacobs (1961), for instance, stresses, among other things, the importance of life on the sidewalk. Whyte (1980) primarily writes about the public use of urban plazas. Gehl (1987) focuses on what design can do to facilitate different types of social interaction between urban dwellers. Concurring with Lofland (and Sennett), Dutch author Reijndorp (2004, 2007) argues that, in addition to life on the streets, everyday encounters between residents in (semipublic) neighborhood stores also can provide important lessons in tolerance.
The market-oriented perspective
From the market-oriented (or, in Borret’s terms, liberal–economic) perspective, the distinction between the public and private realms coincides with the distinction between the state, on the one side, and society (citizens, market) on the other (Borret, 2001; Pesch, 2003). Often used concepts, such as the “public sector” and the “private sector,” belong to this tradition, one of the strongest advocates of which is Friedrich Von Hayek (1967). Actions within the public realm—those of the state—are considered the exception to the “normal” private realm of interactions between persons in everyday life and in the free market. The state is necessary to maintain the rules of the game in society (e.g. to protect property and contract rights) and to provide collective goods which cannot be provided adequately by the market (e.g. external security, education for all, and certain types of infrastructure). The public realm—the actions of the state—has the right to exist only because the market cannot fulfill these tasks efficiently itself.
It is crucial to realize that within the market perspective, a totally different mode of interaction between people is assumed to that of the social perspective (and, as we shall see, of the civic perspective). Lofland’s distinction between realms is based on different forms of person-to-person connections, varying from brief encounters to face-to-face communication. The market perspective is not interested in communication, but in rules as a means of coordinating interaction. These rules (which have been negotiated in another time and place) govern interaction through the possibility of sanction by a third party. When one person believes another to be violating the rules, it is not necessary to use face-to-face communication. Instead, an appeal can be made to an external enforcer of the rules. We will refer to this as “rule-led interaction.” Crucial to the private–public dichotomy in the market perspective is the question, who makes the rules that govern a person’s activities, the state or citizens? In the public realm, the rules are made by the state and the enforcer is the state. In the private realm, the rules are made between parties who voluntarily accept the enforcement by contract (although in the end, the enforcement of the contract is guaranteed by the state).
In recent years, the traditional, clear-cut distinction between public and private has been contested. Alexander (2001) and Webster and Lai (2003), for instance, criticize the traditional association between “public” and “planning,” on the one hand, and “the unplanned market” and “free enterprise,” on the other. Planning, it is argued, is not strictly a government activity, nor do markets exclude planning. Private firms also are engaged in planning. Contrary to the classic liberal–economic definition, according to Webster and Lai, the choice between government and market is not a dichotomous one. Instead, they are interrelated; they co-evolve, and responsibilities are shared between them (see also Adams and Tiesdell, 2010; Chorus, 2012: 38; Cohen and Arato, 1992). Lai (1994) prefers to make a distinction between “private planning” by individuals and firms and “public planning” by government bodies.
According to Webster (2002, 2003), club theory offers a more subtle classification of urban space than the simple division into public and private realms (the state versus the individual citizen). He speaks of multiple publics—clubs—that collectively consume on privately owned land. Following Tiebout (1956) and Buchanan (1965), ERDs can be conceptualized in economic terms as club goods. A club (e.g. homeowner associations) takes on tasks previously carried out by municipal government, and members can claim exclusive use of a particular good; in this case, the collective (or semi-public) domain. Members contribute financially to the “club,” while non-members are excluded. The basic assumption is that this is a more efficient (cost-effective) distribution than is possible through either “individual” market solutions or government intervention.
Charmes (2009: 202), writing about French periurban municipalities (communes), argues in addition that the use of the concept of the club to understand local planning is not only legitimate from an economic point of view, but increasingly also from a sociopolitical perspective. He observes the formation of a market of places, reinforcing the hedonistic dimension of the relationship between inhabitants and their local environment: the commune is first an object of satisfaction and only in second place an object of community and identity attachment; (some) inhabitants tend to consider their municipal board like the board of a CID (see, for example, McKenzie, 2005).
Others, however, continue to use the public–private dichotomy and conceptualize such an arrangement as “private” government. The merits of private government are not only discussed in liberal–economic terms, but also in more ideological terms. Private government can be considered a form of governance that fits with what is called neoliberal urbanism, which seeks to expand the role of market forces in the housing sector and privatize the provision of urban and social services (Genis, 2007). Some argue that government planning should be minimized, as it hinders entrepreneurship and imposes an unnecessary administrative and financial burden on the economy, while private government is seen as an administrative innovation (Foldvary, 2006; Nelson, 2005; Sorensen and Day, 1981; for the Netherlands, see, for example, Boelens et al., 2006; Buunk, 2006). Others speak of “entrepreneurial privatized landscapes” as a threat to balanced development (Hackworth, 2007; Rosen and Razin, 2009).
The civic perspective
Most thinkers in what we call the civic perspective can be traced back to the work of Hannah Arendt (1958). In her argument, the agora in the ancient Greek city state (polis) functions as the ideal type of the public realm. This was the place where people (i.e. free men) assembled to debate and vote on the city’s destiny. The agora was the place where one was confronted with others with divergent opinions. This confrontation took the form of speech, debates, and arguments. In this way, the agora was par excellence the place in which one could act, where it was possible to distinguish oneself, and in doing so acquire an identity in the eyes of others. Habermas (1962) later connects the virtues of acting and debating in public to institutions that have played a key role in the formation of modern Europe, such as the salon and the coffee house. Similar to Arendt, Habermas (1985, 1994) considers the public realm to be a precondition for freedom and democracy.
Three characteristics of the public realm stand out. First, it is a place of confrontation, where one is compelled to interact with others, other opinions, other’s ideas about what is best for the city, or what constitutes a good life. This confrontation—and the potential conflict—must be dealt with through communication. The public realm is not a realm of force. Second, the public realm is where one takes responsibility for the community as a whole: after all, the subject under discussion is the destiny of the city state. This involves an implicit assumption of solidarity with the other inhabitants, whether genuinely felt or rhetorically appealed to. Third, the public realm is where one builds an identity, in two ways. By distinguishing oneself in the eyes of others, one establishes an identity as an individual, and by participating in the discussion about the future of the city, one shapes the identity of the city and with it one’s identity as inhabitant of it.
Sennett (1970, 1977, 1991) links contemporary city dwellers’ experiences in the public domain to political action. The urban public realm is (or should be) a social territory in which its dwellers can be taught about civility. In Sennett’s opinion, an urban environment should not minimize confrontations, but instead facilitate them. What is more, the city should, to a certain extent, stimulate conflict, for “strangers begin to see one another when they conflict in words” (Sennett, 1991: 198). Public encounters between different types of people offer these people opportunities to learn how to deal with conflict without recourse to centrally imposed instruments of law and order. Involvement in public city life allows inhabitants to practice citizenship and politics. The public domain, in Sennett’s (1977) words, can teach people to “act together without the compulsion to be the same” (p. 255). Varying authors have elaborated the political relevance of public encounters along these lines, for example, Sorkin (1992) when he fears for “the end of public space” (p. xv), and Crawford (1999) when she interprets the overlap between the individual lives of urban inhabitants as “the primary form of social exchange in the city” (p. 11).
Having analyzed these three theoretical perspectives on the distinction between the public and the private, we now have analytical tools to describe and evaluate the public, private, or parochial character of places. We have found categories of interaction partners (strangers, friends, and community members), various categories of community (pragmatic, biographical, thick and thin value communities), and different modes of interaction (face-to-face and rule-based), and we have learned about the importance of the issues of solidarity, identity, and confrontation with others.
To what extent are ERDs likely to affect the public realm in the Netherlands?
The situation ex ante
In order to investigate the impact of the emergence of ERDs in the public realm in the Netherlands, first it is necessary to compare the new situation with the situation ex ante. To what extent can the streets or squares—public spaces before being “internalized” by ERDs—be considered as “public realm?” Again, our different perspectives provide quite different answers to this question.
From the social perspective, streets and squares are considered part of the public realm since most of the people we encounter there are strangers to us, and we act accordingly. Parts of these spaces are being parochialized by groups (e.g. skateboarding adolescents), but on the whole public space coincides with public realm.
From the market perspective, too, the streets and squares of our cities are the public realm, because they are designed, managed, and maintained by the municipality. It is government that decides which rules apply in this public space. Citizens pay taxes and charge the government with the task of providing this collective good. Of course, in recent years, it is precisely the character of public space as a “collective good” that has been disputed. Maybe the market could provide better public space, as it does in amusement parks, airports, and shopping malls? However, in the Netherlands, this discussion has so far not led to any significant shift; in practice, municipalities remain responsible for almost all public space.
From a civic perspective, it is much less clear that the streets and squares can be considered public realm. In the civic perspective, we formulated three conditions of the public realm: confrontation with differing opinions in a non-violent, communicative way, taking up responsibility for a “whole” (a community), and the possibility of identity-building.
Are the streets and squares of our cities the locus of the exchange of opinions? The word “opinions” suggests that these ought to have the character of well-formulated statements, but that is not what we mean here. One’s opinion about what constitutes “the good life” also affects the way one acts and dresses in public space.
Nowadays, in the context of cities, it seems that other “places,” notably television, internet, and increasingly social media like Twitter, are more important places to make such statements. Public streets or squares where “you should be seen” and where people go to watch each other seem to have been partly replaced by clubs or other private places. In public space, the confrontation between people with different opinions often remains meaningless because these people largely simply ignore each other, minding their own business (for the Netherlands, see Hajer and Reijndorp, 2001). Of course, there is a difference between a square and a supermarket parking lot, but, in general, large parts of public areas in modern cities are spaces through which people pass on their way to parochial places (see Lofland, 1998; for the Netherlands, see, for example, Blokland-Potters, 1998; Van Engelsdorp Gastelaars and Hamers, 2006), where they meet with those they have chosen to meet. Currently, only in exceptional situations, such as that of a political demonstration, streets and squares suddenly acquire a civic meaning by providing the stage for political action. But even in these cases public spaces increasingly depend on the presence of television cameras or smart phones that broadcast events.
In public space, discussion as a form of confrontation has become more difficult within a society that is—according to the accepted discourse—more and more pluriform with regard to values. When one individual violates the code of conduct which another deems “normal” in public space, doubt about what is actually accepted as “normal” is a significant barrier to talking to that individual about his conduct. The public demand for more rules and control shows that a transition is occurring to the rule-led mode of interaction, which would make it possible to avoid face-to-face confrontation.
Are our streets the places where people show that they take responsibility for the community as a whole? We have seen that the street is no longer the only or most important place for political action. But could such an effect happen on a smaller scale? Such as showing our solidarity with the poor, or by keeping the street clean? It seems that solidarity with poor people has been largely taken over by bureaucratic systems with their placeless, rule-led interaction. The traditional Dutch “scrubbing of the doorstep,” meanwhile, largely disappeared in the 1950s; residents have gotten used to relying on professional street cleaners.
Identity-building in public spaces has become more difficult because of the same reasons that confrontation has become more difficult: the character of most public spaces as a space of passage, and the fact that it is difficult to distinguish oneself when pluriformity has become the rule. Of course, people dress (or behave) in a particular way to create an identity for themselves—perhaps more than ever. But two questions are important. To what extent is this behavior meant for other people in public spaces, rather than for the people with whom one shares a parochial domain? And in what way is this identity related to the place itself, the streets or squares of that particular city? References to television programs, other places in the world (e.g. the Bronx), or global lifestyles (e.g. gothic) are more common. The place is an interchangeable décor.
In short, from the civic perspective, the public realm character of our public spaces is at risk. It is not self-evident that individuals enter this space in order to exchange ideas. They consider it their own personal choice whom they interact with, and where. Most people are not dependent exclusively on what the neighborhood or the city offers and thinks of them. It is easy to make an appointment, and distances are more easily bridged. In other words, people nowadays “put together their own city,” and from the civic perspective this has a negative effect on the city’s public realm.
In what respects could ERDs imply a loss of the public realm?
Having investigated the public character of publicly accessible places such as streets and squares, we can now turn our attention to how ERDs may affect this situation. Our investigation proceeds in two steps. First, we focus on the question of how ERDs affect the “public” spaces that they “internalize.” In what sense is the public character of space within ERDs different from the ex ante situation? Each perspective provides a different answer. Second, in the section “What can be the consequences for public space outside of ERDs?” we examine what each perspective tells us about the consequences of enclosure for the space “outside” of ERDs in the Netherlands. Do ERDs turn urban areas outside of the enclosure into a “left-over space?”
From the social perspective, the following question is paramount: Does an ERD lead to a community among its residents? A few Dutch studies have concluded that this is not necessarily the case. In interviews conducted in three housing parks in the city of Almere, Oude Ophuis (2000) finds that the commitment of residents varies considerably. He concludes that residents usually appreciate a certain degree of homogeneity in the social– economic background and lifestyle of the population, together with a minimum of obligations to be involved in activities. The conclusions of Lohof and Reijndorp (2006) are similar. Most residents of private residential domains are not motivated to live there because these domains offer private management, nor because of the possibility of living in a community. They choose private domains for conventional reasons like the type of housing on offer, the price, location, and car parking facilities. They take the collective elements into the bargain. Nio (2004) finds that residents are willing to meet each other, but that they also want to be able to avoid each other.
However, it is possible that these studies have used an (implicit) definition of “community” which is too thick. Hamers et al. (2007) analyzed the developments in society which could explain the new-found popularity of ERDs in the Netherlands. They concluded that it is not so much the consequence of the demand for better security in the face of crime, but rather of a demand for “shelter,” a predictable and familiar living environment. Van Twist and Van Velzen (2009) present related findings, based on a survey and interviews with residents of private domains in the Netherlands. Residents indicate that feeling sheltered, living with like-minded people, and having a certain degree of control over one’s living environment were factors in the decision to move to a private domain. Reijndorp (2004) and Lohof and Reijndorp (2006) call it a reaction to “the unreliable neighborhood” (pp. 187–188): the city neighborhoods that in recent decades have witnessed rapid changes in population and character, and in which the inhabitants feel out of control. ERD residents seek a living environment which offers predictability because the other inhabitants are familiar and share a similar lifestyle. To use the terminology of this article, they want to be part of a biographical and a (thin) value community. ERDs can offer this. They provide residents with a surveyable small-scale living environment, shelter, orderliness, and a clear identity. They provide the preconditions for noncommittal communication. And because a particular segment of lifestyles often underlies the design and marketing of the ERD (e.g. “seniors,” “water sports”), they ensure that one encounters only the type of people one wants to encounter.
Can we then answer the question of whether the emergence of ERDs in the Netherlands is leading to a parochialization of former public realm? Do they lead to communities? This deserves a nuanced answer. Based on the findings of the few studies available, it seems that most ERDs have no value community in the “thick” sense of the word. Nevertheless, what residents look for in an ERD is a predictable living environment. Most ERDs offer a “thin” version of a value community, renamed as lifestyle, and a (superficial) biographical community.
From the market perspective, the question of the existence of communities is irrelevant. ERDs involve the privatization of the responsibility for designing, maintaining, managing, and supervising the collective domain (which would be public space in non- ERDs). As was introduced in the section “Three theoretical perspectives on the public realm”, from the market perspective, ERDs can be conceptualized in economic terms as club goods. A club (e.g. homeowners associations) takes on tasks previously carried out by municipal government.
In the international academic debate, the “privatization” of local government receives a large amount of attention (e.g. Glasze et al., 2006). Critics consider it a threat to collective responsibility and a withdrawal from civic society (e.g. Low, 2003; Low and Smith, 2006; McKenzie, 1994; Scott et al., 2002). For instance, if associations offer the same services as local government, members might not want to pay regular local community taxes for the same services, endangering the basis for local facilities. Proponents see private government as an efficient arrangement and administrative innovation (e.g. Foldvary, 2006; Nelson, 2005). It offers, for example, a solution to the free-rider problem: anyone who does not pay is excluded from using the facilities. In addition, all parties have an interest in honoring the agreements in order to safeguard the value of their property.
Charmes (2009: 194, 206–208), however, opposes the public–private dichotomy. He describes a process of (some, smaller) residential neighborhoods (communes) more and more becoming consumer goods for their inhabitants. Founded on this consumerization of the relationship with the residential environment, a demand for “clubbization” can be found in many contexts. The relevant variable, Charmes argues, is the way in which the demand for residential clubbization is becoming institutionalized. In some cases, it takes the form of CIDs, in other cases, that of residents’ associations and nimbyist groups, while, in France, clubbization can also emerge from small municipalities. In the last case, privatization is not a necessity; on the contrary, club-like management (including planning against unwanted changes) can be satisfied by local public government itself.
Although Dutch ERDs are not comparable with the French communes (as they are not municipalities), the underlying developments that Charmes describes do take place. As Hamers et al. (2007) have described, since the end of the 1980s, Dutch residential neighborhoods have increasingly become marketable commodities as a result of the liberalization of spatial planning and the housing market. Van Engelsdorp Gastelaars (1996) pointed out that, during this process, Dutch residents have become increasingly willing to protect their investments in real estate by defending the neighborhood against unwanted developments, especially because buyers consider their house part of their pension plan. As shown earlier, Hokken (2004) describes the protection of investments in real estate from a developer’s point of view: developers exclude risk as much as possible, and, according to them, public space is a risk.
With regard to the (public) services that are being privatized, the situation in the Netherlands differs from that in many other countries. In the Netherlands, collective arrangements are mostly limited to the funding, design, and management of the collective domain in the ERD, or shared facilities such as gardens and car parks. Hiring private security services, for instance, is much less common. It is more about having a say about the quality of one’s direct living environment than about an alternative form of local government. In that sense, it seems more fitting to consider Dutch ERDs in terms of club theory than as forms of private government.
However, in Dutch practice, ERDs do not seem to have increased the influence of their residents/consumers much. In many cases, the collective space is designed well before the future residents can bring any influence to bear on it. As Lohof and Reijndorp (2006) have shown, real estate developers sometimes fail to inform future residents about their rights and duties. In other words, residents do not always know what kind of club they are participating in and do not have much influence on the goods that these clubs provide.
With respect to municipal taxation, we observe that, until now, Dutch courts have rejected any claims by residents who have objected to local government taxes on the grounds that they had already paid for the same services. This willingness of homeowner collectives to pay double may, however, change over the coming years. In the most recent debate about the planned upmarket ERD Ringvaartstaete, near Rotterdam, this is exactly what the left-wing politician Martin Ponte fears: he considers the affluent residents’ withdrawal from society a threat to solidarity (Van Houten, 2013).
In short, from a market perspective, in the Netherlands, club theory seems to offer a better understanding of the management of ERDs than the private government approach. However, the new arrangements of club management do not function very effectively, yet, and the “freedom of choice” for the consumer does not always seem substantive. From the civic perspective, the question of whether residents of ERDs form a community is again essential because it is within the community of the polis that participation for the good of the collective, confrontation of opinions, and identity-building takes place. Do residents of ERDs feel responsible for the collective? And to what extent does living together in an ERD lead to unplanned social interactions between individuals who would not otherwise associate with one another (Gieryn, 2000)?
ERDs tend to homogenize the residents (with selection taking place, for example, per house price or lifestyle; see, for example, Le Goix, 2005; Vesselinov et al., 2007; and, for the Netherlands, Oude Ophuis, 2000), and this limits the scope of differences between opinions. Moreover, as we have seen, residents of ERDs do not feel very compelled to participate in collective activities. Studies of practices in existing ERDs in the Netherlands have not found strong community-building, echoing the findings of American studies which report “a culture of non-participation” (McKenzie, 1994: 25) and “active disinterest” between residents (Blakely and Snyder, 1997: 71).
But do ERD residents take any less responsibility than they would take in a “normal” public space? This is hard to believe. When we contrast ERDs not with an idealistic view of tightly knit communities, but with the actual situation in most public spaces, we are led to the question of whether a lighter definition of community, one that also applies to ERDs, would render it more “public,” from a civic perspective. ERDs offer better conditions than public streets for face-to-face communication and an exchange of opinions. The collective use of facilities provides a reason to begin a discussion. This is further enhanced by a certain degree of homogeneity within the group of residents in terms of lifestyle; this will enhance the chances of discussion compared to the external situation, where it is much more difficult to find a common basis. A value community—albeit a “thin” one—will make it easier to start a discussion (cf., for the Netherlands, Meijering et al., 2005). An ERD may restrict the variety of opinions—as it also may restrict the variety of subjects discussed, for where decisions taken at the agora had a bearing on all aspects of life (working, marrying, and enjoying art), this seems hardly to be the case for ERDs (where maintenance issues are a more likely subject)—but it does make discussion about existing differences easier.
As participation does not seem very common in most ERDs, distinguishing oneself through collective activities is hardly possible. However, the second way in which the polis influenced the identity of its inhabitants is much more applicable to ERDs. In some ERDs, living in the enclosed domain as such can confer status, especially in the new country estates and new castles. These ERDs enable residents to distinguish themselves by means of a luxurious living environment. This collective identity can be communicated to the outside world. Oude Ophuis (2000) observes that also inhabitants of less luxurious ERDs derive status and identity from their residence, and contrast their lifestyle against that of the non-ERD neighbors.
Because the recent spread of ERDs in the Netherlands has not yet led to large-scale empirical research, it is difficult to draw decisive conclusions about the direction of the change which ERDs bring in the relationship between the public and private realms, as defined in the civic perspective. However, the comparison with the present situation of the public space (streets, squares) is crucial. Contrary to what has been suggested in the public debate on ERDs, which draws heavily on the civic perspective, ERDs do not necessarily harm the public realm in all respects. Most crucially, from a civic perspective, is the confrontation with “others” and the communicative way this confrontation occurs. Because ERDs tend to homogenize the residents, there seems to be less scope for confrontation. However, the street as public space does not offer much scope for this either. There is not much communicative negotiation between people who “live past each other.” By contrast, in an ERD, the “thin” value community and the shared use of spaces and facilities make communication concerning differences of opinion easier. In other words, in ERDs confrontation is less extreme, but more likely to occur.
What can be the consequences for public space outside of ERDs?
Our analysis from three different angles has enabled us to make a nuanced assessment of the effect of Dutch ERDs on the public realm. Yet, in our analysis so far we have focused on the public character of the collective space inside ERDs. But what effect will enclosure have on the public character of the space outside? A great deal of the critique in the Dutch debate focuses on this aspect of the issue. We want to discuss this with the help of the concepts of “avoidance” and “left-over space.”
We have seen two modes of interaction: social interaction, varying from brief encounters to face-to-face communication, and rule-led interaction. In fact, avoidance constitutes a third mode, which manages interaction by avoiding some interactions in favor of others. Just as relying on rule-led interaction can be a way to avoid personal communication, so can our way of choosing our contacts, of putting together our own city. As Dutch ERDs, even those with “soft” edges, are designed to provide predictability and, in that sense, are directed toward avoidance, an evaluation of this mode of interaction (or lack thereof) is important.
From the market perspective, avoidance is not problematic provided that goods inside (e.g. a shared pool) are delivered efficiently, and provided that at least a basic level of public services is guaranteed. From a civic and social perspective, however, avoidance is, in principle, undesirable. From a civic perspective, avoidance is problematic because it means avoiding conflict or at least avoiding debate about conflicting opinions. As we have seen, in comparison to the classic ideal of the polis, discussion topics in ERDs are narrowed down by the thin value community of ERDs —some topics are avoided, one could say, by avoiding some people. Avoidance of conflict with other people, outside ERDs, results in less opportunities for “practicing politics” (see Lofland, 1998; Sennett, 1991), although, as was discussed, the actual practicing of politics in public streets may be overrated.
From a social perspective, social interaction is not only about face-to-face dialogue or debate, but also about less direct and intense forms of communication, such as brief encounters in streets and shops. Avoiding such encounters would be problematic because witnessing the behavior of a variety of urban dwellers is an important source of information about one’s sociocultural environment. For the Netherlands, the answer to the important question of whether these encounters are threatened is that they are not. Because Dutch ERDs do not house any commercial facilities (such as shops), all ERD residents must leave their residential domain and mingle with fellow consumers/citizens to do their shopping, just like all other Dutch people.
The second concept which is important here is that of “left-over space,” which is closely related to that of “avoidance.” What is the influence of physical enclosure on the space outside ERDs? Does it remain a space full of places in the full sense, or, as De Cauter fears, just a space that is “left over?”.
From a market perspective, it can be argued that ERDs respond to a desire among some people to live in a cleaner, safer, and more attractive neighborhood. There may be a risk that these people will increasingly object to contribute financially (by paying taxes) to making the entire city cleaner, safer, and more attractive. National statistics in the Netherlands, however, show a rising satisfaction with the quality of the urban environment (e.g. less trash and traffic nuisance) and decreasing levels of crime in the city (Hamers and Van Middelkoop, 2012). Of course, this cannot, in itself, prevent ERD residents from “withdrawing from society” in the longer run, but in the current Dutch practice, an acute threat to solidarity seems rather unlikely.
From a social and civic perspective, the role of the stranger is important. Lofland empirically describes the codes of conduct that exist between strangers in the public realm. These practices also include a basic set of norms of (limited) solidarity. For example, when someone faints on the sidewalk, unwritten rules tell the passers-by to help. Pesch (2003) calls this the institution of “strangership.” Strangers are a category between friend and foe, and have a right to a minimum of respect, courtesy, and helpfulness from inhabitants. In neighborhoods dominated by fences and closed gates, the institution of “strangership” may seem to be at risk. When the physical appearance of streets engenders a feeling of exclusion, it may seem as if these rights are being violated. For those standing outside the gates, it can seem as if the residents take responsibility only for each other, and not for anyone outside (though the residents may pay their taxes for social services, and thus show their solidarity through the rule-led mode of interaction). “Strangership” would be eliminated as the category between “friend” and “foe,” giving rise to a polarized society.
This is the theory, and it may be true in some situations and in some countries. But to what extent is this fear justified in the current Dutch situation? On the basis of the morphological analysis carried out by Hamers et al. (2007), we can conclude that left-over space of this kind is rare in the Netherlands. In inner cities, ERDs are situated in places that are not part of important public urban areas, such as shopping or nightlife areas. Nor do they interfere with important connecting routes—a situation that differs substantially from, for instance, the situation in South African cities (see, for example, Landman, 2006). Dutch ERDs in suburban areas only have a residential function. As they do not contain public functions, such as shops, they are hardly interesting destinations for non-residents. But more importantly, the potentially defensive appearance from the outside is, in most cases, mitigated, as Dutch ERDs are not physically closed off; they remain accessible to strangers.
Conclusion
Although Dutch ERDs differ from gated communities in several respects, critics fear that they pose a threat to the public realm. In this article, we have argued that any proper assessment of the effects of ERDs will not be possible without exploring the theoretical and moral frame of the debate about the public realm, and without taking into account the specific morphological characteristics of Dutch ERDs. We evaluated contemporary developments in the Netherlands from three theoretical perspectives. Here, we briefly summarize the most important findings and discuss these in the context of relevant contributions to the international debate.
From a market perspective, considering the limited arrangements in Dutch ERDs, it seems more fitting to consider these in terms of club theory than as forms of private government. Although the current practice still has its flaws, it is more about residents having a say about the quality of their direct living environment than about an alternative form of local government. We agree with Webster (2002, 2003) and Webster and Lai (2003) that, in the debate about spatial planning and real estate management, the public– private dichotomy is better transcended. Furthermore, we concur with Charmes’ (2009) argument that clubbization is based on transformations that are difficult to reverse and that research should devote attention to (new) ways in which residents of club-like residential domains can contribute to social solidarity.
From a social and civic perspective, ERDs are not considered as objects of coconsumption, but as places of social interaction, social learning, the exchange of opinions, and possibly meaningful political conflict. The first empirical studies carried out in the Netherlands indicate that residents of ERDs do not seek a tightly knit community in which people take responsibility for the whole and for each other. They do, however, seem to be looking for a predictable and familiar environment. Because of this (light version of a) community, conditions for face-to-face communication on differences of opinion and for collective identity-building seem to be better than in the public spaces of streets and squares. Although there is no guarantee that this will take place, ERDs can offer preconditions for a (limited) public realm.
On the other hand, because residents of ERDs can be said to avoid contact with strangers, to a certain extent, from a social and a civic perspective, in theory there is the risk of public space becoming a “left-over space,” devoid of all meaning, and therefore no longer part of the public realm. Although this worry cannot be dismissed altogether, in the Netherlands there does not seem to be a real risk of this, so far. Generally, ERDs in the Netherlands are on a much smaller scale than those abroad, and because they do not house any commercial facilities (such as shops), all ERD residents must leave their domain and will meet fellow consumers/citizens on a dayto- day basis. Furthermore, Dutch ERDs are much less closed off from the outside world, so that the feeling of being excluded is much smaller than would be the case with high walls and fences.
Currently, most observations and warnings in the international literature (e.g. Blakely and Snyder, 1997; Low, 2003; McKenzie, 1994) do not fit the Dutch situation. However, this could change in the future: because of their design, many of the now publicly accessible ERDs could easily be closed off with gates. In that respect, it will be interesting to monitor the development of the forms of enclosure that can be found in the Netherlands and determine where and when, on “the continuum of gating” (cf. Atkinson and Blandy, 2005; Charmes, 2010), changes in the effects of ERDs can be observed. Clearly, also then, the question of the extent to which ERDs will affect the public realm will be answered differently from each of the three perspectives. We would argue that this holds true not only for the Dutch case, but for the evaluation of existing and future private and gated enclaves in other countries, as well. We hope that the analysis of the underlying analytic and normative frames in this article will contribute to the (re)consideration of the impact of different theoretical perspectives and value systems on the assessment of residential enclaves in the international debate.
Acknowledgements The authors would like to thank the three referees for their constructive and helpful comments in the review process. The authors would also like to thank the referees that commented on an earlier Dutch article (Hamers and Tennekes, 2008) on which this article elaborates. It goes without saying that the authors remain solely responsible for the content of this article.
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David Hamers is an Economist, Cultural Theorist, and Spatial Researcher. His research focuses on the development, planning, and design of urban and suburban areas. Joost Tennekes has studied Public Administration, and Social Philosophy. His research focuses on institutions and discourses in planning and urban development, also in international comparative perspective.
Corresponding author: David Hamers, PBL Netherlands Environmental Assessment Agency, P.O. Box 30314, 2500 GH, The Hague, The Netherlands. Email: david.hamers@pbl.nl
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