4 posts tagged “public sphere”
This post will conclude the paper I wrote after the initial phase of my research at the Columbus North Market. My research is by no means done, in fact this paper really only serves to highlight a few areas where future research is necessary. I will continue my fieldwork this quarter and continue to report as I go.
Neoliberal Pedagogy in Public Space: “Safe Gathering” vs. “Dangerous Assembly”
The elision of gathering place and conspicuous consumption is indicative of the new neoliberal paradigm.[1] The injection of economic thinking into every aspect of life is one facet of neoliberalism, one supported and inscribed through the shift of our public spaces into commercial spaces. The historical development of the market shows that there never really was a time when the two spheres were separate; however, the redefinition of public space, combined with contemporary policing practices, physical limitations of an indoor market, and the presence of mostly prepared-food vendors marks a shift in the market’s relationship with the citizens of Columbus.
According to Mark Cotè, Richard J.F. Day, and Greig De Peuter, “The neoliberal project includes what is known as the globalization of capital, as well as the intensification of societies of control.”[2] Problematic in such definitions (and they are common), however, is the anthropomorphization of neoliberalism. Referring to a neoliberal project grants agency to an ideology that is better described through the articulation of numerous practices in mundane places, such as Columbus’ North Market. Observing the market over a period of weeks in the winter of 2009 highlighted a number of practices that seem to articulate with established thinking about neoliberalism. I categorize the practices as drawing a distinction between “safe gathering” and “dangerous assembly.”
I am defining “dangerous assembly” as any gathering that disrupts commerce or tarnishes the appearance of the hyperreal. This assembly is often intentionally disruptive (such as the Reclaim the Streets movement[3]), directed at capitalist enterprise (such as Reverend Billy’s Church of Stop Shopping[4]), and can occur in large-scale or small-scale forms often without clear leadership which makes it hard to eliminate.
At least since Seattle hosted the World Trade Organization’s third Ministerial meeting in 1999, which exploded into violence,[5] cities around the world have been extremely careful in regulating conduct in public spaces. Coupled with the September 11th terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, large-scale assembly has become difficult to organize and execute without inciting preemptive state violence. The Democratic and Republican National Conventions in both 2004 and 2008 are further examples of a tightening of control in the wake of Seattle 1999. My point here, though, is not to illustrate how the North Market is no longer a place of dissent (by some accounts, it has been a place of political activism), but rather the trickle-down effect from neoliberal policing practices has meant that only a certain kind of dissent is allowable, and “dangerous assembly” is not it.
Instead, “safe gathering” is encouraged, which I am referring to as the regulated and parsed gathering of small, private groups of people in public space that does not impede commerce or shine a critical light on the hyperreal. These practices are acceptable to the commercial enterprise of the market while still allowing for some (limited) choice-making activities. By allowing for small groups of people to gather around tables to talk about whatever they like, an appearance of freedom is generated that makes “dangerous assembly” practices seem outside the norm. It becomes an affront to common sense to see people disrupting commerce in any way. These practices ensure that it appears that there is a balance of commerce with public engagement, while in reality the clearly commercial enterprise is never interrupted.
Conclusion
What all of this points to is the preliminary finding that the North Market does indeed help educate for neoliberal sensibilities, even while it contains the seeds for its own subversion. This amounts to what Foucault referred to as heterotopic space. Foucault describes heterotopic spaces as fitting a number of criteria.[6] First, the market is a space that has changed over time, most notably from a site of daily necessity to a space for conspicuous consumption. Second, the market is a space in which multiple spaces exist. It is simultaneously a space of commerce, social gathering, law enforcement/policing, marketing (for the city), and perhaps even a kind of “theme park.” Third, the market is linked to “slices in time.” It acts as a museum, indefinitely collecting time through artifacts on display and the historical narrative constructed for public view. It also acts as festival, through its special events (like Fiery Foods Festival) in particular. Finally, the market operates in relation to remaining space, in this instance, the city of Columbus. For this criteria, the market acts as a “real” space of commerce in relation to the normally messy practice of everyday life in America. So, while I have focused on the neoliberal pedagogy of the North Market, there are other stories to be told. Most evident from this project, then, is the need to continue this line of research. There are still numerous questions that need to be answered, and observing the market in spring and summer will give me a more complete picture and most likely change my findings.
[1] As articulated by Michel Foucault, The Birth of Biopolitics: Lectures at the College de France, 1978-1979 (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008).
[2] Mark Cotè, Richard J.F. Day, and Greig De Peuter, ed., Utopian Pedagogy: Radical Experiments Against Neoliberal Globalization (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2007).
[3] Giorel Curran, 21st Century Dissent: Anarchism, Anti-Globalization and Environmentalism (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006). Reclaim the Streets organizes, among other things, seemingly spontaneous “parties” in the middle of traffic intersections or on major highways to disrupt traffic and draw attention to the way public space is used.
[4] http://www.revbilly.com/. Reverend Billy is famous for coordinating direct situationist actions such as performing an exorcism on the flagship Macy’s store in New York City during the Christmas shopping season.
[5] It is unclear as to what the “first” act of violence was and who committed it, but what is clear is that the peaceful civil disobedience of the majority of the protestors was met with an excessive (impressive?) display of state violence justified by the destruction of property by some Black Block Anarchists.
[6] Foucault, “Of Other Spaces.”
Pedagogy of the Market
Linking Past to Present: “Presenting” the History of the North Market
One of my first observations is the series of framed signs along the east wall that provide a historical account of the market’s existence. Beginning in the 1800s, each sign accounts for a period of time highlighting the role of the North Market in Columbus’ development from frontier town to Midwestern metropolis. Toward the latter end of the historical narrative is a discussion of the declining role of the market and its subsequent revitalization. Integral to this historical revival is the North Market Development Authority, which leases the market property from the city and, in turn, leases space to the numerous vendors.
Whereas the market had once been fully public space, it has, like many other spaces, become privatized in order to maintain viability.[1] Generally, it seems as if this privatization has been a good thing – the market still exists. However, the historical account provided by the market tells the story of inevitable and beneficent privatization. No conflict is highlighted in the account; it is presented as a common sense solution to a market that was once struggling within a changing urban environment. Indeed, the signs appear to be intended to tie the current iteration of the market to an idealized past where the market served as a major focal point for public gathering in Columbus. This “presenting” of the past aids in marketing efforts.
Providing a historical narrative that locates the contemporary market within a tradition that is highly populist and deeply nostalgic (two things Americans seemingly cannot live without) helps realize the North Market as hyperreal space.[2] Eco points to Disney Land as the ultimate hyperreal space. Where “real” pirates rub up against “real” American Main Street, Disney is completely imaginary, while being thoroughly real. He notes, “The American imagination demands the real thing, and, to attain it, must fabricate the absolute fake.”[3] It is in these hyperreal spaces where the copy becomes more real than the original itself. Tying the contemporary market to the markets of the past is an attempt to provide an air of authenticity, which attracts American consumers. However, this process also marks out the market as a kind of exceptional space: one that is rare, valuable for the public good, and historic in such a way as to obligate citizen consumers to utilize the space in particular ways.
Educating About Cheese: Buying and Selling at the Market
I am wandering the market without any particular agenda today. I am still trying to get a sense of how people move through the space, interact with one another and the merchants. I skirt around a knot of people talking animatedly to one another near the foot of the stairway that leads to the balcony seating area. After ducking under an arm thrown outwards to emphasize some point, – “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you!” Don’t worry about it, I survived, I reply with a laugh – I find myself in front of a counter filled with cheeses. The deli case I almost ran headfirst into is stickered with numerous signs with typed descriptions of certain cheeses. The signs note the name of the cheese, provide the country and region of origin, and describe the taste, texture, and smell. Often there is a suggestion for what wine or other foods should be served with the cheese. Intrigued, I approach the counter.
After looking into the case for a few moments a woman in an apron approaches me from behind the counter. Her nametag reads “Sue.”[4] She appears to be in her late 50s or early 60s. She is wearing hornrimmed glasses, her hair reaches her chin and is salt and pepper colored, mostly salt. She smiles.
“How can I help you?” Hi, I’m looking to try something new. I like parmesan, pecorino, and softer cheeses but I don’t remember their names. I don’t really like bleu cheese or brie. What do you recommend, maybe a goat or sheep cheese?
Sue’s face brightens, her tone of voice carries enthusiasm. It is clear that she enjoys talking about her product. She asks a few more questions.
“Do you like soft cheeses?” Yes.
She reaches into the case.
“This is our most popular cheese. It’s a French cheese, made from cow’s milk called St. Nectaire. Would you like to try it?” I’d love to.
She cuts a thin slice from it with an enormous knife (I was amazed at her ability to wield it at all, let alone so deftly), places the cheese onto a piece of wax paper, and hands it to me. I sniff at the thin slice, then ask,
Do I eat the rind? “If you like. You don’t have to.”
I pop the cheese into my mouth. It is delicious. I ask for a small wedge to take home. Like a good salesperson Sue asks me if I would like to try another.
“I have another cheese in mind for you. You said you like pecorino, was that Tuscano or Romano?? Pecorino Toscano. I ate it often when I lived in Florence. “Oh good, you’ll love this, it’s the Romano.
She cuts another slice with the comically large knife. I order another wedge to take home with me.
After the buying and selling is over, I inquire about the signs in the deli case window. Sue informs me that they are a benefit to the business. Even though every cheese is not described in the window signs, they are enough to both attract attention (most people will read at least one or two signs, even if they do not buy anything) and entice people to buy. Sue shares that 30 to 50 per cent of customers are returning customers, depending on the season. So, anywhere from 50 to 70 per cent are new customers, and many of those people, she notes, are drawn in by the signs. When pressed further she comments on the notion that she, along with many of the vendors at the market, try to educate their customers about their product. This creates an ethos of connoisseurship at the market, with a gastronomically educated clientele with whom the vendors can engage. I suspect this serves at least two purposes. First, many of the vendors are enthusiasts and like most enthusiasts love to share their interests with others. Second, it appears that an ethos of gastronomic connoisseurship facilitates the seeking out of more esoteric foodstuffs, which seem to be fairly profitable for the vendors.
Unique challenges face the produce vendors, including Curds and Whey. As the historical account of the North Market shows, the market experienced a decline in consumer relevance and economic viability from the end of World War II through the 1970s. In order to counter this decline, the North Market Development Authority was created. Part of the group’s success has been tying the market’s operation to the surrounding Arena and Convention Center district, which meant that a number of the leased spaces went to prepared-food vendors. Currently, less than half of the stalls are dedicated to the buying and selling of produce, bulk goods, and other raw materials, which have historically been the hallmarks of public markets. This environment makes the “presenting” practices that seem to attract American consumers all the more important, but it also means the produce vendors have to work harder and harder to attract, educate, and retain consumers.
Learning Space: Private Consumption Versus Public Gathering
There are groups of people of varying numbers sitting at tables around the entire area. A student working with a laptop sits alone at one table. A group of four men sit at another talking loudly about the upcoming NFL Superbowl. A group of three middle-aged (around 45-50 by my estimation) women sit talking and laughing at yet another table. It is a useful space for eating the numerous food offerings from the first level. As a social space, however, it is a differentiating space. The physical limitations of the relatively narrow distance between wall and railing offer limited opportunity to congregate in large groups. Instead, the space is far friendlier to small groups, up to about 15 to 20 people if several tables are pushed together. Beyond that, however, it seems like it would become difficult to hold any sort of conversation as many in the group would not be able to see or hear others at the far end of the table.
According to a pamphlet I picked up on my initial tour of the market, the market has always been a site of gathering.
In 1876, the market was the only place for people to find all of life’s necessities. Things haven’t changed much. Throughout its history, the North Market has served most importantly as a meeting place. Although today’s North Market may look different from the original Market [sic] built in 1876, the purpose of the Market remains the same. It’s a place where people gather together, to shop, eat, mingle, and enjoy themselves.
It is clear that the North Market remains a place where people shop, eat, mingle, and possibly enjoy themselves. It is less clear, however, that the market retains its identity as a gathering space in any more meaningful sense. At a micro level, it is certain that people gather in the market. In my limited observations, I was able to identify numerous groups of people conducting business, talking, eating, and consuming. The longer I stayed, though, the more I realized that it would be difficult to gather on a larger scale.
The physical limitation of the upper floor and the obviously commercial use of space on the first level would hinder any large gathering, demonstration or protest, or other coordinated action. In a sense, the space is designed to keep private the gatherings in this ostensibly public space. Unarmed security guards and armed police officers patrolled the ground floor, asking people to keep at least a minimum amount of space open to keep foot traffic moving. However, at the stalls attracting a larger crowd, the requests were dropped, as the line was too long to move anywhere else. On the upper levels, the space facilitated long, narrow groupings, which can easily dictate the effectiveness of a speaker attempting to address a crowd. These practices and limitations diffuse gatherings on a large scale.
The main purpose of the North Market is clearly commercial. With this in mind, it becomes transparent that the market’s function as a meeting place is elided with the practice of conspicuous consumption. The produce, meat, and seafood vendors are local, organic, earth-friendly businesses. The majority of the vendors are local and regional franchises, with a majority being stand-alone, independent businesses. So, while the market serves to attract a fairly liberal, eco-friendly, activist-oriented crowd, a crowd perhaps more likely to value such a community-oriented space, the value of the North Market as a meeting place is undermined.
[1] Margaret Kohn, Brave New Neighborhoods: The Privatization of Public Space (New York: Routledge, 2004).
[2] Umberto Eco, Travels in Hyperreality (Orlando, FL: Harcourt Brace & Co., 1986).
[3] Ibid., 8.
[4] Even though I am not disguising the name of the market or the particular vendor I am using pseudonyms. I do not feel comfortable using real names because I did not secure permission to do so.
I've been working this past quarter on a project studying the North Market in Columbus, OH. For the next few posts, I will excerpt from the paper I wrote for a class. I'd love feedback, as this is an ongoing project.
“The space in which we live, which draws us out of ourselves, in which the erosion of our lives, our time and our history occurs, the space that claws and gnaws at us, is also, in itself, a heterogeneous space. In other words, we do not live in a kind of void, inside of which we could place individuals and things. We do not live inside a void that could be colored with diverse shades of light, we live inside a set of relations that delineates sites which are irreducible to one another and absolutely not superimposable on one another.” – Michel Foucault[1]
Entering the Field
I shut my car door, breathe in the winter air, cool and crisp, and look around me. As I stand in the pay-per-hour parking lot, I take account of my surroundings. The first things I notice are the numerous cars in the lot. It appears that it will be crowded inside. I begin making my way toward the front doors; the canopied entrance is lined with empty picnic tables, clearly intended for warmer weather. The building has a façade that mixes weathered red brick with newer materials, giving the impression that an old building (the red brick) has been renovated for more contemporary use (the glass doors and external staircase). An enormous sign announces the purpose of the building; it reads “North Market” in large letters, with the O containing a rooster’s head surrounded by a radiant sun. I enter the front door and am immediately met with the hustle and bustle of commerce. I am bumped from behind and realize that I am standing in the doorway – Oh, I’m sorry, I should get out of the way, I say to the man who had run into me. “Not a problem, I didn’t see you.”
I move to the side and wonder what I should do first. I have no known connection to any of the shoppers, workers, or employees of the North Market Business Authority (the market management council). I decide to walk the floor and get a feel for the layout, at the same time exploring the shops and getting a sense of how people move through the market.
At first, it is easy to see that this is a converted warehouse, as the stalls have a haphazard, semi-permanent feel to them.[2] There are few dividing walls; different proprietors separate from one another by using deli cases, jar-laden bookcases, or produce containers. The North Market is clearly not a purpose-built environment with permanent partitions. However, the benefit is that the space can be broken up as necessary making it easier to bring in businesses of different sizes and means, as the space can be tailored to meet specific needs. The meat- and fish-mongers at the north end of the market take up a greater, more specialized space than do the bakery and popcorn stalls at the south end; the coffee shops and hot dog stands have specialized equipment, the bbq and hot sauce vendor is simply an open space lined with shelves with a cash register on a table. One vendor’s space is no more than six feet wide by ten feet deep or so, and has the feeling of an over-stuffed closet at grandma’s house. Everything from Bert’s Bees lip-gloss to Ohio State University shot glasses line the shelves.
As I complete my circuit, I determine that the ground floor consists of numerous vendors arranged around a rectangle. The two main thoroughfares run north-south, intersected by perpendicular east-west alleys. Almost every inch of walkway space is lined with display cases, serving counters, cash registers, or lunch counter-style seating. After finding the restrooms, I realize there is a staircase leading up to a second level. Not knowing what to expect, or even if I was entering an open area of the market, I head up. Upstairs is a large open space; tables and chairs line the walls and the inner railing that overlooks the ground floor shops. At the north end are the North Market business offices. At the south end is an enclosed seating space that is, according to a sign, available to rent for private gatherings but is currently empty. I sit down at a table to observe for a while.
[1] Michel Foucault, “Of Other Spaces,” http://www.foucault.info/documents/heteroTopia/foucault.heteroTopia.en.html, 1967 (accessed March 12, 2009).
[2] My observation was later confirmed when visiting the North Market website, http://www.northmarket.com/about-us. The building currently housing the market was formerly the Advanced Thresher warehouse, purchased by the city in 1992, leased to the North Market Development Authority, and opened to the public in 1995.
For some time I have been alarmed at the inability of most Americans to access their elected and appointed officials in any sort of meaningful way to discuss issues of public concern. For example, in 2007 a young man was dragged out of a question and answer forum at a public university and tasered because the thought-police felt his question was 1) not enough of a question and 2) too aggressive. He was asking John Kerry a series of questions that, while a bit long-winded, were relevant to the public interest. Video found here.
Not too much later, members of the organization Students for Staff at Miami University (in Ohio) were ridiculed in the student newspaper for posing a question to former Secretary of State Colin Powell. The student stood and asked whether Powell would be willing to donate his speaking fee back to the university in order to create a fund that would benefit staff members working on less than a livable wage. Certainly not the topic of Powell’s speech, but a question that could, perhaps, force an influential political figure to confront issues of poverty. A relevant letter to the editor from The Miami Student can be accessed here.
Now it appears that the McCain campaign is asking people to leave campaign events before they can cause trouble. The basis, it seems, is that these people look like they might be protesters or could possibly be some sort of trouble. The irony is, at least one person kicked out of a recent event in Iowa has actually already voted for McCain. Ironic. Coverage can be found here.
I see this as a general trend that coincides with the closing of America’s public spaces, often packaged in terms of security and quality of life. The WTO protests in Seattle in 1999 were transformed into riots only after police intervention once the protests proved effective at stopping the meeting of the unjust organization. One of the main arguments cited for police intervention? The protesters had exceeded the specifications of their permits. Forget the idea of spontaneous public gathering.
Flash mobs are a form of resistance that are seemingly tolerated because they rarely (if ever) evolve into direct political action. More often than not they strike, linger for a while, then disperse.
Graffiti is criminalized as defacement of public and private property, most often associated with gang activity.
Rage Against the Machine is denied access to the stage at the 2008 Republican National Convention.
The examples go on and on.
At issue is the increasing notion that “the public” is relegated to the role of elected office and a professional class of politicians. Private life is anything and everything that has to do with me, mine, family, sex, school choice, open space, and on and on. Even traditionally public goods are being privatized in new and unique ways. Township owned parks and university green spaces are now considered the property of essentially public corporations owned by the town and/or university. They are no longer open access, instead they are regulated by a system of permits and security personnel. Ostensibly these “protections” exist in order to ensure public safety and/or the civility of discourse. In effect, avenues for genuine nonviolent political dissent are continually closed off.
It is time for new definitions of public and public participation to emerge in American civic and political life. As Michael Warner notes in his 2002 book, Publics and Counterpublics, “Publics are queer creatures. You cannot point to them, count them, or look them in the eye. You also cannot easily avoid them (p. 7).” He goes on to say, “Yet publics exist only by virtue of their imagining. They are a kind of fiction that has taken on life, and very potent life at that (p. 8).” So what are these queer creatures, these imaginative fictions? I’m not sure, exactly, that a precise definition is warranted, as it sets up a false binary between public and not-public. But their multiplicity and textuality seem key. I think they are best thought as congealed masses of peoples, brought together for both the profound and the mundane – both changing the world and collecting esoterica. To complicate things, I turn again to Warner: “The public is a kind of social totality… [a] public comes into being only in relation to texts and their circulation” and to paraphrase him, like the public of this blog (pp. 65-66).
Habermas critiqued the public sphere, in The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere, in this way: “The bourgeois public sphere may be conceived above all as the sphere of private people coming together as a public; they soon claimed the public sphere regulated from above against the public authorities themselves, to engage them in a debate over the general rules governing relations in the basically privatized but publicly relevant sphere of commodity exchange and social labor.” Which again begs the question, what is the public sphere?
Dewey is helpful, here, when he argued for “experts and citizens engag[ing] together in participatory social inquiry – in information gathering, exchange, interpretation, and debate” (Oakes & Rogers, 2006, p. 16).
Taken together, we can argue that publics (that is, groups of people organized around particular issues, identifications, politics, and so on) engage in the public sphere any time a text is circulated – an unsatisfactory definition with profound implications in our media-text-laden society. Publics are infinite and everywhere, accompanied by their own public spheres.
To close, let me return to my initial frustrations with access to public officials. There is no doubt that Kerry, Powell, and McCain are people who deserve respect (at least for the fact that they are fellow human beings, if not for politics…) and, at times, privacy. Yet as officials continue to close off the criticism of multiple publics in countless formerly public spaces it seems imperative to re-energize both public space and the public sphere. We must reclaim our spaces and reopen spheres of dialogue. This means, though, an intrusion on our traditional liberal discourses of individual and private rights trumping those of community rights. This can be done without resorting to totalizing discourses of public debate – it may simply mean that we all must play the game even though we don’t all agree on the rules. In my mind, this can actually be more fair, more equal, and more productive than we can imagine in the current moment.
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