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Showing posts with label urban studies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label urban studies. Show all posts

Friday, 20 July 2012

Justice in Gotham City

History

The history of Gotham city is not unlike many American cities’ during British colonial rule. It was founded in 1635 by a Norwegian mercenary and was later taken over by the British, changing hands various times over the years. According to Alan Moore, the famous cartoonist and creator of such titles as Watchmen and V for Vendetta, Gotham city was the place of many mysterious occult rites during the American Revolutionary War (Swamp Thing #53).

A separate history was provided for by Bill Willingham (Shadowpact #5): an evil warlock has slept for 40,000 years under the place where Gotham city is built, with his servant Strega claiming the “dark and often cursed character” of the city was inherited from the warlock’s nature. Going by either story, the city assumes a post-Apocalyptic mood that is also Gothic at the same time, and accords it an ambivalence that invites literary exploitation.

This mood has since been open for modification by writers, more so after the chain of events set off by the villain Ra’as Al Ghul. He introduced a virus called the Clench, impacting the city greatly. Just as it was recuperating from its impact, it was hit by an earthquake measuring 7.6 on the Richter scale, prompting the federal government of the United States to cut off Gotham from the mainland because it had no hopes of rehabilitating it. However, respite arrived in the form of assistance from the brilliant billionaire Alexander “Lex” Luthor, Superman’s archenemy.

In this regard, there are many comparisons to be made to Mumbai, which is itself a set of seven islands, is constantly assaulted by terrorists, and often finds support not from the government but from unexpected quarters (but, it must be said, not as unexpected as Luthor). By extension, the residents of Gotham city are also likely to be more resilient and resourceful than the residents of other cities, and possibly quite cynical, too.

Everything about Gotham city is rooted in its mysticism-ridden history, and the fights fought between the region’s native tribes and evil powers. The first signs of modern civilization arise in the 19th century when, after the tribes’ abandonment due to infestation by what they claimed were evil powers, Gotham Town was born as a reputable port.

Around the same period, in 1799, Darius Wayne profited from his labours on the port and started the construction of Wayne Manor, one of the precursors of the city’s cocktail of Gothic, Art Nouveau and Art Deco architectures. The manor itself is what one would call “stately”. It is located toward the northeast of the city, removed from the clamour of urbanism and allowing Batman, or Bruce Wayne – Darius Wayne’s descendent – to plan his adventures in peace.

Exclusivity v. Justice

The isolation of the manor parallels the isolation of Wayne’s personality from that of Batman’s: the former is portrayed as a dilettante indulging in the wealth of his forefathers whereas the latter is portrayed as a vigilante that the city seems to subconsciously need. At the same time, however, it is hard to say what the difference might have been had Wayne Manor been situated inside the city. In this regard, there is a notion of social exclusivity in terms of spaces occupied within the city.

A good case in point for this would be the older part of Gotham, which is situated to the north of the city and generally considered a part of the city itself. Old Gotham is where Crime Alley (which includes the Bowery, the worst neighbourhood in all of Gotham), Arkham Asylum (albeit as an island – visible to the east of a forked New Trigate Bridge), and Amusement Mile (the stalking grounds of the Joker) are located. Therefore, the new city, developing on the principles of reformation and citizen-vigilantism, grew southward and away from its traditional centres of trade, finance, and commerce.

Disregarding the depiction of Gotham’s architecture in the Burton and Nolan movies and the TV series: another of Wayne’s ancestors, Judge Solomon Wayne, was, according to Moore, the inspiration for the city’s unique architecture. Solomon’s intention to reform the city and rebrand it, so to speak, resulting in his commissioning of the young architect Cyrus Pinkney to design and construct the city’s financial centre. Moore’s choice of this explanation coincides perfectly with the period of Gothic Revivalism (around the early 1990s).

[caption id="attachment_23697" align="aligncenter" width="470"] Click to enlarge[/caption]

Growth v. Justice

Justice within a city is not administered in a court of law nor does it arise out of the adherence to rules and ethics. It is a product of many of the city’s provisions, their accessibility, and how well they work together to give rise to a sense of social security and provide a livelihood. For instance, Gotham’s common man could be working a nine-to-five day-job at some company in One Gotham Centre, just down the road from Wayne Tower, living in the suburbs around the Knights Dome Sporting Complex, within swimming distance of Cape Carmine off Old Gotham, and supporting a family of three.

However, this is not social justice. The need for social justice arises when aspirations, income and social liberty don’t coincide: if the nearest amusement park is haunted by a psychopathic serial killer, if a trip to the airport requires a drive through Arkham Asylum, if affordable housing comes at the price of personal security, and, most importantly, if there is the persistent knowledge of the need for a masked vigilante to rely on for a measurable sense of appeal against all the odds – in simple terms. It is as if the city was carefully misplanned: the Gotham city everyman is someone forced to live in a dangerous neighbourhood because of lack of other options for sheltering.

In other words, social justice is a perfect city and, therefore, by definition, can be neither omnipresent nor omnipotent, especially since Gotham city falls under the umbra of laissez faire economics. As a corollary, to understand social justice within a city, we must understand where the city’s priorities lie. How has the city been developing in the last few years? Is economic equality rising or falling? Who within the city has a sense of ease of access when it comes to valuable resources and who doesn’t?

The Metropolis

The problem with studying Gotham city is that it is a city conceived as a negative space to serve as the battleground where the forces of good and evil meet. It has deliberately been envisioned as a child of the industrial revolution entombed within walls of steel and stone, overwhelming those living within it with by the enforcement of a systematic way of life that allows for the exercise of few liberties. This is what effectively paints the picture of Gotham city being a failed one. In fact, this very way of thinking is paralleled in the image of the Metropolis in Blade Runner (1982), whose Modern-expressionism production design was borrowed inefficiently by Barbara Ling for Joel Schumacher’s Batman Forever (1995) to imply a wildly whimsical side to the city. Anyway, this is how we understand the need for Batman, and how that need has been and is created.

It begins with the blighting of the police force: the superhero can become a societal fixture only if there is something fundamentally wrong with the one other body that is responsible for keeping crime in check. The Gotham City Police Department (GCPD) was corrupt for a long time, especially under the leadership of Commissioner Gillian Loeb, who had his hands in the pockets of the Falcone, Galante and Maroni crime families amongst others. The social scene inspired by such a network could be compared to the conspiratorial mood in the movie L. A. Confidential (1997).

By the time Commissioner James Gordon took over after Loeb’s successor Jack Grogan, the GCPD was overridden with lawlessness. Because of such a poor tradition, public authorities who should have been present to assuage the suffering of the historically discriminated were instead present to exacerbate, and profit from, the discrimination. Seeing that the GCPD couldn’t be cleaned from the inside, Gordon enlisted the skills of Batman, a veritable outsider, a deus ex machina.

Once the cleansing was complete, the city could formally begin on its path of reformation. Here is where the question of economic equality arises: when weeding out criminals, did the police department assume a rehabilitative approach or a retributive one? If the movies and TV series based on the comic may be trusted, then retribution was the order of the day, perhaps born out of an urgent need to do away with everything that has plagued the city and start anew.

At the same time, retribution also implies that enforcers of the law – and Batman – were willing to show no patience toward how the city itself was creating many criminals. This lack of patience is also reflected in many of the urban development projects undertaken by the city’s planning commission, especially such ill-conceived ones as the Underground Highway, as if the officials decided that desperate measures were necessary. (The ultimately-abandoned Underground Highway later went on to become the hideout of Killer Croc, apart from becoming the home for many of the city’s homeless – an indication that the forces of corruption at work were creating poverty.)

Conclusion

It can be deduced from all these threads that Gotham city is not simply a product of its history, which continues to influence the way outsiders think of it, but also its inability to cope with what it is fast becoming: a kennel for superheroes to flourish in. There are many decisions at work in the city that collude to create injustice in many forms, and the most significant ones are geographic exclusivity, a retributive mindset in the ranks of the executive, restriction on the exercising of social liberties based on past mistakes, and the presence of Batman himself.

Monday, 23 January 2012

Cities of the future

An article titled 'What If There Were Another Technologically Advanced Species?' appeared on LiveScience on January 20, which spoke about how two intelligent species would coexist on the same planet. The article assumed that one of the species to be human for arguments' sake, and charted out, albeit superficially, how their culture would shape up in the presence of another species.

The article was fascinating for two reasons. The first reason is a not-so-important one: that LiveScience picked such a curious topic to write about. The second reason is that this clash of civilizations can be envisaged not only as a clash of two cultures but, by extension, also as a clash of two political states. Because the author, Natalie Wolchover, mentions in the article that conflicts arise when resources and/or ideologies are matters of contention between two factions, why not attempt to understand what might happen at the interface of conflict of two cities?

William Harcourt-Smith, whose opinions on the subject have been solicited in the article, says that the most likely outcome of an encounter is armed conflict. And if one of the two sides is stronger in anyway than the other, the latter will be eventually thoroughly defeated. However, if after years of internecine of warfare, no side has emerged victorious, they either start to populate geographically different parts of the planet or adapt to consume different resources - like what happened with the Darwin's finches and their beaks.

[caption id="attachment_21359" align="aligncenter" width="450" caption="The beaks of Darwin's finches"][/caption]

Cities as today's centres of development are expanding at sprightly rates, especially at their peripheries, where they "acquire" land around them during the urbanization process. They attract investments, they sustain development by providing opportunities for growth, and they consume resources whose value originates from the people inhabiting the cities. With this picture in mind, it is not hard to imagine a time in the future when some cities have grown so massive that, apart from being political and military powerhouses, they could get in the way of development of another such supercity.

And when two supercities clash, they could closely resemble the clash between two intelligent civilizations. Assuming that each city wants different resources, according to Harcourt-Smith, the cities will ignore each other as long as they're not competing for the same thing. In reality, however, all cities have many things in common, such as water, food and electricity. So if one city treads on the toes of a second, then the pressure on existing water-related infrastructure will force conflict, for example.



At the same time, if there is abundant water, food, electricity and other amenities available, and if we posit a significant difference in the cultures of the two cities, how would the outcomes chart out? Will one city's "essence" percolate into the other, like a cultural invasion, until the other's culture becomes highly localized? Will the tendency to ignore persist such that, over time, two distinct sub-species of humans exist? Will the cost of conflict deter cities from expanding to that extent at all and keep them bound to a well-defined region?

I seemed to have assumed, subconsciously, that cities will be allowed to grow and operate freely without the intervention of the state governments. This is not the case... presently. There have been policy-makers and academics in the past who have advocated for a city free of larger political intervention, and even though that's obviously a long way off, it's an idea that has a good chance of becoming real sometime within the next few centuries.

Friday, 30 December 2011

Rain in the urban daytime

Where I live in Chennai, living space is quickly running out. Because buildings have been squeezed into the smallest of spaces, the municipality has prohibited builders from constructing anything more than six floors or so. What we have now is nothing short of a "shopping hamlet": the city's busiest shopping venue, South Usman Road, is a few steps from my door, and every day, millions of people drive in via small tributary veins to reach the shops and hundreds of houses surrounding it.

[caption id="attachment_21162" align="aligncenter" width="476" caption="Soacha, near Bogota (Where I live, the houses form a hive and the walls are painted anything from nauseating grey to blinding pink)"][/caption]

My house is positionally the backward-most: there are many more residences above mine, beside mine, ahead of mine, and more are coming up behind mine. Compound walls rise and fall at awkward locations; at one point, it disappears for about five feet before showing up again. The section, I hear, was knocked out because it is a popular spot for playing cricket, with each half of the pitch on either sides of the wall. Clotheslines are suspended from one window on the second floor of one building to a parapet on the fourth floor of another building. Those on the third floor whose "view" stood obscured took revenge by flicking the better-looking shirts.

Smack in the middle of this chaos is a large Azadirachta indica, a neem tree of the mahogany family, taking up a small section of land that pushed the parking slots around it into a bulge. Instead, bikes are now propped up against stairways, windows, the doors of houses whose people have gone on vacation (someone's always on vacation), and in drainage pools that have run dry.

The only thing all of this changes is the sound of rain. When it's pouring, no matter how hard I strain my ears, I can't hear the telltale white noise, the cacophonous medley of a million droplets crashing down on mud and grass and rock. I can't spot a droplet against the dark grey skies and trace it all the way down to its demise, and I can't aspire to watch rivulets gather strength and join a meandering boa of dirtied freshwater on the road.



But this is a universe I enjoy living in. I'm not going to root for a rollback of faster urbanization because I know that houses matter more than the sound of rain, and I know that urbanization itself isn't the problem as much as the growing need for such houses. This is rain in the urban daytime, where the best sound is when I hear the water from the open terrace drain through a pipe provided for just that, pouring out loudly on the neighbour's doorstep.

I'm not saying the sound of rain is a luxury. In fact, I'm saying the sound of rain is just not that: it's a mundane fact that doesn't make a difference in my life. The sounds and sights of this world are sounds and sights because we deemed them so. Now, the times are changing, there are different problems that demand solving, lifestyles that demand different thinking. This change in the way we think essentially is a change of our environmental consciousness.

The sparrows didn't fly away because my demand for a house lead to the manufacture of an asbestos sheet for a makeshift roof, a motorcycle whose parts were flown in from Germany or Japan, a plot of land cleared and the dust whipped into the air, or a hundred litres of petrol that had to be drawn out of an Arabian oil-field, shipped to India and distributed in Chennai so I could drive to work. They didn't fly away because my presence in the city demanded all these necessities but because such are the necessities I can demand at all.

If I'm going to do my bit for the environment, I'm not going to do it so I can bring back the sparrows, reclaim the dense green foliage or see squirrels jump on the clotheslines. If going to do my bit for the environment, I'm going to have to live in a city, chase away the sparrows, build clotheslines that confuse squirrels, know it's raining by looking at the sky and then the drain-pipe, and meet all my needs, and then, once I'm equipped with knowledge and resource, set out to do something constructive. I'm part of the problem by default because I have to partake of its advantageous collateral.




Everyone likes to take capitalism to town when it comes to how it's messed up the environment, but capitalism has nothing to do with it. Whoever is the cause of a problem will find himself in the best position to solve it, and that holds true even in this case: the one most equipped to bring the sparrows back is not me, and it most definitely is not my need of a motorcycle. The one most equipped is the maker of the motorcycle. Only at the conception is any thought meted out to implication: I have not created a demand for motorcycles but one of transportation, and giving me the choice - "take the bus or buy a scooter" - doesn't mean I have assumed the burden, too.

I quite enjoy the rain like this, no longer allowed an open air of passage. This way, it doesn't get everywhere, but only where it is allowed to go - into pipes, down slopes, through slits and grills, slowed over ridges, coursing down flutes, collected into depressions and let out into a sanctuary where it won't encourage moss-gathering or rust-forming. It is a controlled and utilitarian environment not because I hate the rain but because it is the only place where, if I slip and fall, I won't fall over a wall, against a clothesline, on a motorcycle, or through the window of the house next door.