As you’ve likely noticed, I’m not writing much here at the moment. I’m a little more active on Mastodon, and collect pictures on Tumblr. You can read about my research and teaching here.

In rethinking scale, a first move is to shift away from scale as a noun, describing a mathematical function or geometric transformation, towards scaling as a verb. In her ethnographic study of the office of OMA, anthropologist Albena Yaneva writes of scaling as “an experimental situation… an apparatus” by which designers configure and inquire into what they’re designing. “[T]he rhythm of scaling”, she says, “relies on procedures for partial seeing: scoping, rescaling, extending and reducing the material features of scale models.” In other words, scaling operations are not simply about controlling size, they are also about editing, filtering, omitting, and framing. Working across scales, or jumping between them allows a building to exist simultaneously as abstract and precise:

“The final building is never present in any single state or model, but in what all of them together project. That is why the building is a multiple object: a composition of many elements; a ‘multiverse’ instead of a ‘universe'”

Yaneva, A. (2005). Scaling Up and Down: Extraction Trials in Architectural Design. Social Studies of Science, 35(6), 867–894.

I just made a submission to NZTA on the East West Connections project. There are six proposals for improving traffic (particularly freight) movements between State Highway 20 and State Highway 1. The connection route passes to the north of the Mangere Inlet. The best options are A, B, and if we’re feeling spendy, C. D is a version of C that proposes the Te Hopua crater be finally obliterated in favour of easier on- and off-ramps for SH20. Options E and F are appalling and iredeemably bad proposals to run a motorway along the entire foreshore. They would obliterate Te Hopua, desecrate the Waikaraka Park Cemetery (currently quietly tucked alongside the water under mature pohutukawas, it would become an island between two noisy, smelly freight corridors), and sever forever any possibility of a connection to the water or the foreshore. The Council’s page linked above says the Options were developed out of a process that considered:

transport performance, cost and constructability, urban design, social, natural environment, human health, cultural and heritage.

It’s very hard to believe that anything but the first of these was considered in Options E and F. It doesn’t instil confidence in the process that these two options even reached the table.

There’s still a day to get a submission in.

Infrastructure as a new commons

Frischmann proposes that infrastructures are resources that should be thought of and managed as commons:

Specifically, infrastructural resources satisfy the following criteria:

(1) The resource may be consumed nonrivalrously for some appreciable range of demand.

(2) Social demand for the resource is driven primarily by downstream productive activity that requires the resource as an input.

(3) The resource may be used as an input into a wide range of goods and services, which may include private goods, public goods, and social goods. (Frischmann, 2012)

This aligns with the idea that infrastructure is fundamentally an element of an industrial economy, but it takes a wider scope, allowing for forms of production, use, and value that may not be of immediate economic value. Treating infrastructure as a resource is interesting in itself, and the idea of linking this to the commons, a principle effectively eliminated by the rise of capitalism is also appealing.

Frischmann, B. M. (2012). Infrastructure. The social value of shared resources. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press.

Four ways to fail at defining “infrastructure”.

It’s encouraging to discover that I’m not alone in having difficulty establishing a working definition of infrastructure. I’ve found few accounts of infrastructure that can specify unambiguously what it is they’re even looked at. There’s no lack of definitions though (often several different and conflicting definitions in the same account): I’ve encountered four basic types: 

Exemplary lists that indicate the kind of thing the writer means by infrastructure: “airports, harbours, roads, sewers, bridges, dikes, dams, power corridors, terminals, treatment plants” (Bélanger, 2010); “wires, ducts, tunnels, conduits, streets, highways, and technical networks that interlace and infuse cities” (Graham, 2000). This kind of definition makes it the reader’s business to sort out what the listed things have in common, so it’s kind of a non-definition definition. It does however, succeed in conveying something open-ended and heterogenous, like a Latour litany. As Levi Bryant writes, litanies undermine implicit essentialism:

“Through the creation of a litany of heterogeneous objects, the object theorist is forced to think that heterogeneity as such rather than implicitly (and often unconsciously) drawing on one prototypical object that functions as the representative of the nature of all objects.”

That these lists are so common in describing infrastructure suggest that these properties of open-endedness and heterogeneity aren’t just quirks of description, but something inherent to be grasped.

Documentary definitions from historical or institutional sources. Dictionary definitions are the classic version of this. Bélanger and Edwards both cite The American Heritage Dictionary, for example. A step further than this is to identify documents from policy or practice. Edwards offers a definition from the 1997 President’s Commission on Critical Infrastructure Protection:

“By infrastructure . . . we mean a network of independent, mostly privately-owned, man-made systems and processes that function collaboratively and synergistically to produce and distribute a continuous flow of essential goods and services”

These are useful for gaining an historical perspective on what infrastructure was understood to be at a particular time, although obviously there’s no guarantee that the dictionary editor’s definition is either particularly well-founded, nor an accurate description of what infrastructure was even then. Edwards’s documentary definition is a more interesting case, because as a policy document, it’s performative not just descriptive. That is, it’s a definition that makes a difference. Infrastructure was made or managed in a particular way because it was defined like this.

Functional definitions that specify what infrastructure is by what it does. For example, that American Heritage Dictionary definition says infrastructure is the “collective network of roads, bridges, rail lines and similar public works that are required for an industrial economy to function”. The defining feature is that this set of things allow “an industrial economy to function”. Common themes in this kind of definition are service and dependency. But what do ‘function’ and ‘service’ mean? To answer those questions means diving into more general writing about technology. Thomas P. Hughes offers in ‘Evolution of Large Technical Systems’ the idea of a “common system goal”: that what characterises these systems is that they’re teleological, oriented by some governing idea of purpose. There must be complications in this, though: Frischmann describes infrastructure as “shared means to many ends”. Are the ends of infrastructure singular or multiple?

Structural / formal definitions that say infrastructure is something that takes a particular shape or topology. Most commonly, infrastructures are described as networks, but occasionally they’ve been seen as landscapes (Graham mentions the idea; Bélanger explores it much more thoroughly: 2006; 2009; 2010), and Varnelis points to new infrastructures taking the form of an ecology (2009), or a field (2011). I’ve defined it this way myself, but now I’m not satisfied that a purely structural or formal definition is adequate; at least partly because of the range of forms that infrastructures take, but also because it overlooks how they work as if an infrastructure was little more than a particular type of pattern.

In practice these definition types are blended, and all the people I’ve referred to here employ several. None of them are really adequate on their own, because they each fail to capture something significant. A viable working definition (for whatever “working” means in my case, which is pretty slippery in itself!) is probably going to be a layered or composite thing.

Bélanger, P. (2006). Synthetic surfaces. In Waldheim, C., ed., The Landscape Urbanism Reader, pp. 239–265. New York, NY: Princeton Architectural Press.

Bélanger, P. (2009). Landscape as infrastructure. Landscape Journal, 28(1):79–95.

Bélanger, P. (2010). Redefining infrastructure. In Mostafavi, M., ed., Ecological Urbanism, pp. 332–349. Baden, Switzerland: Lars Müller.

Douglas, C. (2011). Off the grid. infrastructure and transformational space. Access, 30:45– 57.

Edwards, P. N. (2003). Infrastructure and modernity. force, time and social organization in the history of sociotechnical systems. In Misa, T. J., Brey, P., and Feenberg, A., eds., Modernity and Technology, pp. 185–226. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Frischmann, B. M. (2012). Infrastructure. The social value of shared resources. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press.

Graham, S. (2000). Introduction. cities and infrastructure networks. International Journal of Urban and Regional Research, 24(1):114–119.

Varnelis, K. (2009). The Infrastructural City. Networked Ecologies in Los Angeles. Barcelona: ACTAR.

Varnelis, K. (2011). Infrastructural fields. Quaderns, (261).

The fallacy of the ‘urban age’

In the first version of my PhD proposal I dutiful began by echoing the commonplace that over half of people now live in cities. It was an easy way to give my project the requisite sense of urgency. I took the claim directly from the The Endless City (2007), a book arising from the London School of Economics’ Urban Age Conferences. Plastered on the cover, in gigantic type, is the sequence:

10% lived in cities in 1900

50% is living in cities in 2007

75% will be living in cities in 2050

The argument is that there is a fundamental shift towards cities taking place, and that we’re now in an “urban age”. The statistics derive from the United Nations, with two UN reports in 2007 claiming that this “invisible but momentous milestone” had been reached. Neil Brenner and Christian Schmid argue that this ‘urban age’ thesis, despite becoming “doxic common sense” is dubious and unhelpful.

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Why we need a theoretical approach to infrastructure and public space—

Infrastructure dominates contemporary cities. So far so obvious: roads, energy transmission lines, railways, goods distribution sites, telecommunications exchanges, water reticulation, air-conditioning—we’re hemmed in by infrastructure. We can’t dig without hitting a pipe or a cable, and interrupting the flow of traffic is considered a serious breach of civic ettiquette, even an act of civil disobedience. This becomes even more evident when we look at the city from an aerial perspective, revealing how much of the city’s land-use is given to infrastructure. Vast tracts of land are devoted to these networks, and the hubs of these networks: sewage treatment plants, rail switching yards, data centres, power stations, cable landing stations are typically fenced-off operations comprising entire precincts. Without thinking any deeper, it’s surely clear that a concern for the public space of the city must necessarily take account of this infrastructural condition. But, in my view, a more rigorous theoretical view of infrastructure as a fundamental ordering principle of the urban would leave us deeply concerned about the nature of public space, and how our space, time, human and nonhuman relationships are being constructed.