Brandon Donnelly — Daily insights for city builders. Published since 2013 by Toronto-based real estate developer Brandon Donnelly. — Page 1124

“It’s remarkable that even as the internet disperses information and enables us to form online communities across great distances, our politics are still highly correlated with physical environments. Who we are is largely defined by where we are. For architects and urban designers, this is an important reminder that space is and always has been political, from the days of the valley section to the postmodern stage of Trump.”

The above excerpt is from a Places Journal article by Neeraj Bhatia called, Environment as Politics . The premise of the article is that residential population densities have long shaped political outcomes and that that was certainly the case in the 2016 U.S. presidential election.

But before we get into the work and drawings of Places Journal, let’s first talk about one of the inspirations mentioned in the article. In 1909, the pioneering town planner Patrick Geddes drew the following “Valley Section”:

The point of this section drawing is to make clear the relationship between humans and their environment. In this case, it speaks to occupation. The physical geography of where you lived determined what you did: fish, hunt, mine, and so on.

For those of us now living in cities, these “natural occupations” may not seem all that relevant. But that same human-environment relationship remains.

In the 2016 election, 49 of the 50 highest density counties voted for Hillary Clinton. And 48 of the 50 lowest density counties voted for Donald Trump. It turns out that how close you live to your neighbor had/has a tremendous impact on your political views and the way you vote(d).

Below is a chart from Places Journal that plots the 2016 election results for all U.S. counties:

On the y-axis is “vote capture” by Democrats and on the x-axis is “Distance to Neighbor (feet).” What you see here is a dramatic drop off in liberal voting as distance to neighbor increases. And the tipping point appears to about 608 feet.

Part of the explanation for this is that living in close proximity to others change how we feel about others. It can reduce fear and prejudice. In other words, it makes us more open. And as Bhatia points out in his article, one could argue that this last U.S. election was in fact a “clash over the openness of society.”

We often talk on this blog about how space impacts our lives. As Jan Gehl once said: we shape cities and then cities shape us. Today we are reminded that space is also highly political.

In my case, the distance to my neighbors is likely about 8-10 inches. Sometimes I can hear somebody sneeze. But most of the time I don’t hear anything at all. It’s usually pretty quiet around here. Whether I acknowledge it or not, this distance is shaping me and how I see the world.

I had to read the following announcement a few times just to make sure it was legitimate. 

A few days ago, attorney general Eric T. Scheiderman (New York State), announced that as a result of “ Operation Vandelay Industries ”, he was indicting an alleged fake architect named Paul Newman on 58 counts of larceny, forgery, fraud, and unlicensed practice of architecture. 

And yes, the Seinfeld reference was entirely deliberate . Can you believe the guy’s name is Paul Newman ? For over 7 years, Newman had been pretending he was an architect and had stamped drawings for over 100 buildings in Albany, Rensselaer, and Saratoga Counties.

For those of you who weren’t Seinfeld fans (I assume there are some), George Costanza liked to pretend he was an architect, among many other things. He would also sometimes go by the name of Art Vandelay – an “importer/exporter” who ran a company called Vandelay Industries. Hence the operation name above.

In any event, a funny announcement , but a not so funny reality for the hundreds of clients and building industry professionals that believed Paul Newman was indeed an architect. 

Moral of the story: It’s one thing to pretend you’re an architect to meet women. It’s another thing to pretend that you actually have the professional ability to stamp building drawings.

I’ve written about Berlin many times before on this blog. It’s such a fascinating case study for me because of its history, its urban development patterns, and its famous techno scene.

Last month, Nick Paumgarten wrote a piece in the New Yorker, called Berlin Nights , where he dives into the city’s club culture and its reputation as the cradle of techno music. 

But in doing that, he is necessarily forced to talk about the once divided city and its unique “post-Wall” condition. When the Wall came down, the East became – as a result of its under-utilized built form – a breeding ground for the pent up energy and creativity of the West.

Here is an excerpt that speaks to the importance of those empty spaces and sparsely populated neighborhoods:

The post-Wall abundance of derelict building and excess housing was decisive. “Empty spaces allowed there to be a club culture,” Robert Henke said. “With no empty space, you get a closed-at-2 a.m., restrictive-alcohol culture.” At first, the reclamation seemed slapdash, improvisational, anarchic, as squatters took over buildings and neighborhoods and set off a period of cultural ferment. But the powers that be had been dreaming up developments for years before the Wall came down, and now—amid a boom in real-estate speculation and investment (everyone spoke of the Swedes)—empty space, and the sense of wildness that comes with it, has become harder to come by. “Flats are getting more expensive,” Hegemann said. “But we still have many free spaces. This is the secret for why Berlin is still alive.”

And here is the story of one such building:

Some empty spaces have completed their life cycles. One afternoon, I visited the old Reichsbahnbunker, a five-story fortress of reinforced concrete built by the Nazis in 1942 as an air-raid shelter. The Soviets turned it into a jail for P.O.W.s. Then it was used to store bananas and other tropical fruit. It was abandoned. In the nineties, it became an infamous techno night club, the Bunker. No ventilation, no fire exits. The government eventually shut it down. In 2003, an advertising executive and his wife bought the building and converted it into a museum to house their collection of contemporary art. They also built a glass-and-steel penthouse on the roof, to house themselves. Now the collection is open to the public, by appointment only. I joined a tour one afternoon. The guide, a young art student with a sweet monotone, took us into a cell-like space featuring giant manipulated photographs of the night sky, by Thomas Ruff, and explained that it had been the original dark room of Berlin. “It was very extreme,” she said. “It was hot, damp, loud, and dark. It was said to be the hardest club in the world. I’m sure you can imagine the things.” She gave a coy smile.

If you’re interested in cities and/or electronic music, the essay is well worth a read.