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Mike Davis⁄Ecology of Fear
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Scanscape
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1994-10-02
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Prev: Beyond Blade Runner Up: Contents Next: Free Fire Zone
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2. Scanscape
Is there any need to explain why fear eats the soul of Los Angeles?
The current obsession with personal safety and social insulation is
only exceeded by the middle-class dread of progressive taxation. In
the face of unemployment and homelessness on scales not seen since
1938, a bipartisan consensus insists that the budget must be balanced
and entitlements reduced. Refusing to make any further public
investment in the remediation of underlying social conditions, we are
forced instead to make increasing private investments in physical
security. The rhetoric of urban reform persists, but the substance is
extinct. "Rebuilding L.A" simply means padding the bunker.
As city life, in consequence, grows more feral, the different social
milieux adopt security strategies and technologies according to their
means. Like Burgess's original dartboard, the resulting pattern
condenses into concentric zones. The bull's eye is Downtown.
In another essay I have recounted in detail how a secretive, emergency
committee of Downtown's leading corporate landowners (the so-called
Committee of 25) responded to the perceived threat of the 1965 Watts
Rebellion. Warned by law-enforcement authorities that a black
"inundation" of the central city was imminent, the Committee of 25
abandoned redevelopment efforts in the old office and retail core.
They then used the city's power of eminent domain to raze
neighborhoods and create a new financial core a few blocks further
west. The city's redevelopment agency, acting virtually as their
private planner, bailed out the Committee of 25's sunk investments in
the old business district by offering huge discounts, far below market
value, on parcels in the new core.
Key to the success of the entire strategy (celebrated as downtown's
"renaissance") was the physical segregation of the new core and its
land values behind a rampart of regraded palisades, concrete pillars
and freeway walls. Traditional pedestrian connections between Bunker
Hill and the old core were removed, and foot traffic in the new
financial district was elevated above the street on pedways whose
access was controlled by the security systems of individual
skyscrapers. This radical privatization of Downtown public space --
with its ominous racial undertones -- occurred without significant
public debate or protest.
Last year's riots, moreover, have only seemed to vindicate the
foresight of Fortress Downtown's designers. While windows were being
smashed throughout the old business district along Broadway and Spring
streets, Bunker Hill lived up to its name. By flicking a few switches
on their command consoles, the security staffs of the great bank
towers were able to cut off all access to their expensive real estate.
Bullet-proof steel doors rolled down over street-level entrances,
escalators instantly stopped and electronic locks sealed off
pedestrian passageways. As the Los Angeles Business Journal recently
pointed out in a special report, the riot-tested success of corporate
Downtown's defenses has only stimulated demand for new and higher
levels of physical security.
In the first place, the boundary between architecture and law
enforcement is further eroded. The LAPD have become central players in
the Downtown design process. No major project now breaks ground
without their participation, and in some cases, like the recent debate
over the provision of public toilets in parks and subway stations
(which they opposed), they openly exercise veto power.
Secondly, video monitoring of Downtown's redeveloped zones has been
extended to parking structures, private sidewalks, plazas, and so on.
This comprehensive surveillance constitutes a virtual scanscape -- a
space of protective visibility that increasingly defines where
white-collar office workers and middle-class tourists feel safe
Downtown. Inevitably the workplace or shopping mall video camera will
become linked with home security systems, personal "panic buttons,"
car alarms, cellular phones, and the like, in a seamless continuity of
surveillance over daily routine. Indeed, yuppies' lifestyles soon may
be defined by the ability to afford electronic guardian angels to
watch over them. (In the meantime, these hard times are boom years for
the makers of video surveillance technology. The leading manufacturer,
a Swedish conglomerate, is now the official sponsor of the huge London
marathon.)
Thirdly, tall buildings are becoming increasingly sentient and packed
with deadly firepower. The skyscraper with a computer brain in Die
Hard I (actually F. Scott Johnson's Fox-Pereira Tower) anticipates a
possible genre of architectural anti-heroes as intelligent buildings
alternately battle evil or become its pawns. The sensory system of the
average office tower already includes panoptic vision, smell,
sensitivity to temperature and humidity, motion detection, and, in
some cases, hearing. Some architects now predict the day when the
building's own Al security computer will be able to automatically
screen and identify its human population, and, even perhaps, respond
to their emotional states (fear, panic, etc.). Without dispatching
security personnel, the building itself will manage crises both minor
(like ordering street people out of the building or preventing them
from using toilets) and major (like trapping burglars in an elevator).
When all else fails, the smart building will become a combination of
bunker and fire-base. When the federal Resolution Trust Corp. recently
seized the assets of Columbia Savings and Loan Association they
discovered that the CEO, Thomas Spiegel, had converted its Beverly
Hills headquarters into a secret, "terrorist-proof" fortress. In
addition to elaborate electronic security sensors, a sophisticated
computer system that tracked terrorist incidents over the globe, and
an arms cache in its parking structure, the 8900 Wilshire building
also has Los Angeles's most unusual executive washroom:
Tom Spiegel's office, in addition to the bulletproof glass, was
designed to have an adjoining bathroom with a bullet-proof shower.
In the event an alarm was sounded, secret panels in the shower walls
would open, behind which high-powered assault rifles would be
stored.
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Prev: Beyond Blade Runner Up: Contents Next: Free Fire Zone