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Why our cities should be sacred Utilitarian city-making is failing us

John Wilson's painting of Piece Hall (Calderdale Metropolitan Borough Council)

John Wilson's painting of Piece Hall (Calderdale Metropolitan Borough Council)


January 4, 2024   5 mins

At some unknown moment in around 9,500 BC, hunter-gatherers in what is now south-east Turkey, and was then lush grasslands rich with pistachio and almond forests, and abundant with sheep and goats, did something for the first time in human history. Seven thousand years before ancient Britons raised Stonehenge, they built a city.

It was small by modern standards, and the site now known as Göbekli Tepe is about two dozen acres. It is a complex of 20 circular compounds and limestone T-shaped pillars richly decorated with pictograms of animals, insects and humanoid figures (some headless) who may be humans — or gods. Alongside the large enclosures huddle smaller domestic structures. For reasons that we will never fully comprehend, our Stone Age ancestors had created the world’s oldest urban settlement. Archaeologists are certain of one thing, however — the site was sacred for the worship of gods and the fulfilment of holy duties.

About 4,000 years later and 400 miles to the south east, the first urban civilisation arrived in the swamps of ancient Mesopotamia. Uruk was probably their first true city. Much about Uruk is also lost to time. But its archaeology, and the ancient Sumerian poem, The Epic of Gilgamesh, both tell a tale in which settlements such as Uruk began life as holy sites created on island mounds in the marshes. Sumerian cites continued to be defined by their temples. People met there to trade, but they came there to pray.

Most urban creation myths have similar patterns. Divine or heroic intervention is localised, enshrined and worshipped. In the process a specific place or an entire city is imbued with sanctity and, via pilgrimage, ritual or festival, the very patterns of travel and trade that boost prosperity are nurtured and encouraged. Ancient Rome had multiple myths. The temple of Saturn was located at the base of the Capitoline Hill (where Saturn was supposed to have founded the pre-Roman city) and also on the edge of the forum. The festival of Lupercalia to secure Rome’s health and fertility was held each February in the holy cave of the Lupercal beneath the Palatine Hill, in which the she-wolf had suckled Romulus and Remus.

Across time and continents, holy cities celebrate the location of a physical interaction between man and god. Jerusalem, which suffers from a surfeit of competing sanctities, is too obvious to discuss. Varanasi in India is where Brahma’s head was dropped into the ground. Lhasa in Tibet literally means “the place of the Gods”. Medieval Europe was bejewelled with shrines deified by a vision of Christ or of the Virgin Mary, or by the births, acts and martyrdoms of Christian saints. Shrines and trade, pilgrimage and travel, were all interwoven just as the sanctity of God and of the city were stitched together.

Sometimes the very process of reconstruction was sacred, as appears to have been the case in the ancient Peruvian city of Caral, with its pyramid temples. Love of place was real not abstract. In 431 BC the Athenian statesman Pericles beseeched his fellow citizens to love their city in his famous funeral oration: “I would have you day by day fix your eyes upon the greatness of Athens, until you become filled with the love of her.” The word for love that he used, eραστά or erastai, was the word for erotic not chaste love.

So far, so ancient — but what do Lhasa or Periclean Athens or Göbekli Tepe have to do with us? Here’s the point. If you regard your towns as places of moral and religious purpose then you don’t just build nice churches, you create better places, more resilient and more beautiful, more worthy of the eternal, not just the here and now. For most of our history hôtels de ville and Rathäuser, town halls and market places, parliaments and public baths, almshouses and hospitals, were built not just to perform a transaction but to elevate our service to each other: a civic temple in the town square, not a featureless box on the ring road.

From Rome’s Baths of Caracalla to Palladio’s Basilica Palladiana in Vincenza, we have historically created our buildings and streets to be as good as we can afford — not as cheap as we can bear. That is why the 500-year-old Fuggerei social housing in Augsburg, Bavaria is better than nearly any social housing built in the last century. That is why until 70 years ago we created places which, today, we visit for the sheer pleasure of being there. Perhaps it is no surprise that one of the world’s most beautiful modern cities, Singapore, has, uniquely among former colonial cities, raised statues to their colonial founder, Sir Stamford Raffles. They are in communion with the past, the better to look to the future.

My favourite example of the (to modern eyes) needlessly magnificent is the glorious Piece Hall in Halifax, Yorkshire. I will never forget the first time I saw it. Emerging through that dark small door into what must, on a sunny day, be one of the most gloriously luminous urban enclosures in Europe, stole away my breath. A quadrangle of delicately Doric arcades behind which 315 merchants’ rooms sat ready for business, a heady mix of souk, forum and fell. What lifts it from the superb to the sublime is the location, the gently sloping topography which results in three arcades to the east and two to the west, with the Pennines rising headily behind. That a building created purely for commercial purposes 240 years ago should be so joyous tells us something important about the culture of our past. Here is the capitalism of the merchant-prince and “civic pride”, not of robber barons and “devil take the hindmost”.

And yet today our towns and our cities, our streets and our squares, are designed to a narrow purpose. They are meant to be efficient and safe; they pay their way; they minimise liabilities. Windows are too high to fall out of, or too small to waste energy; cladding is robust enough to survive the warranty period but never intended to last through the centuries. Generosity is wasteful, stewardship for the naïve. Almost every planning discussion I have descends into a discussion of viability, unit density and efficiency ratios. We live, in short, in utilitarian places. We have lost sight of the fact that while the city has always been a market and a crossroads, a bridge and a city wall, it also used to be a sacred place.

Even though we are richer than ever before in human history, and even though we have at our instantaneous command powers and technologies undreamt of even a century ago, we are somehow conspiring to create places which are less loveable and more perfunctory than would once have been considered civically acceptable. The utilitarian approach to city-making is failing us, creating throw-away places with throw-away meanings. This is bad for the planet, but it’s also bad for us. Create places to last a little longer and we might burn a little less carbon every year. Create places which aspire to, even if they do not achieve, divine beauty, and we may all find the ineluctable hardships of life that much easier to bear.

Empirical research consistently demonstrates that people are happier when they are religious, surrounded by beauty, and intrigued not depressed by their neighbourhood. Meanwhile longevity is plateauing and depression is rising, particularly among the young. In an ironically utilitarian twist, rediscovering the holy in our world would be a good way to help us lead happier and healthier lives. We need to rediscover the language of the sacred city, of creating a place that speaks to our desire for purpose and our innate sense of the divine. Of course, our sacerdotal will not be the same as our forefathers’. More street trees, and less stained-glass I would imagine — less purely Christian, more ecumenical. Less “the faith”, more “faith”. It’s a trick that the British Monarchy have been pulling off for years.

Why don’t we try? For the lives of our fellow citizens, for the re-weaving or our civic life, and for the delicacy with which we tread upon the planet.


Nicholas Boys Smith is the Chairman of Create Streets


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Steve Murray
Steve Murray
11 months ago

I believe the scene depicted in the header is of Piece Hall, Halifax (with the Pennine hills in the background) and now fully restored i can attest to it being a magnificent public space. It serves many purposes still; for concerts, for artisanal shops, for eating and drinking and on a sunny day (not as rare as many might think in the shadow of the Pennines) it positively glows as the stonework warms up. I don’t live too far away, and visit regularly.
Having said all that, its magnificence owes nothing to the sense of the “sacred” that the author invokes. Yes, i understand what he’s getting at when he writes of religious sites being at the core of our urban expanses, but Piece Hall is a prime example of civic beauty which doesn’t rely on a religious sensibility. It does rely on a sense of confidence in ourselves, which has seemingly been lost. We can restore such a space, so those skills and aptitudes aren’t lost forever. Can we restore the space within us?

Charles Stanhope
Charles Stanhope
11 months ago
Reply to  Steve Murray

Isn’t that what the caption says?

Caradog Wiliams
Caradog Wiliams
11 months ago

Yup, it says that utiliarian is bad and goes on to argue that only a semi-religious experience can keep the jungle away.
The problem with artisan shops and cafes is that they are trendy and we all know what happens to trends – the next lot of councillors are voted in and don’t have a budget for proper maintenance.
Utilitarianism is a nice idea but it can’t easily be passed of from generation to generation – certainly not with modern people.

Charles Stanhope
Charles Stanhope
11 months ago

I presume SM must have had a different photo without the explanatory caption!
I suspect that after the War utilitarianism/brutalist got out of control when you see what happened to so many of our cities and even county towns.
Didn’t somebody even call it the age of ‘white hot technology’?

Steve Murray
Steve Murray
11 months ago

Yes, indeed! The version on my mobile phone didn’t include the black-box caption at the top right.

Charles Stanhope
Charles Stanhope
11 months ago
Reply to  Steve Murray

Then well spotted!

Steve Murray
Steve Murray
11 months ago

I have, and it doesn’t look any the worse having imbibed a couple of refreshing pints of cask ale in either of the excellent bars within the station buildings!

Archibald Tennyson
Archibald Tennyson
11 months ago
Reply to  Steve Murray

You suggest it’s not sacred, but about self confidence. Has it occurred to you that such confidence, such commitment to beauty, comes from a religious sensibility? Everyone keeps scratching their heads about why our ancestors had greater civic pride, as if that could be separated from their Christian worldview – one that sees magnificence as a divine virtue in which man can share.
To me, you seem the kind of secularist who is fully aware of the numinous experience, but is still reluctant to attribute it to its actual origin – the glory of God.

Steve Murray
Steve Murray
11 months ago

Yes, it’s occurred to me. Has it occurred to you that our ancestors had an understanding of numinosity (without the term itself) for many, many millennia before Christianity or it’s forebears?

Archibald Tennyson
Archibald Tennyson
11 months ago
Reply to  Steve Murray

Certainly, belief in the transcendental spans all cultures. The question is whether that yearning is ever truly fulfilled, and whether man has ever achieved a higher state of religious understanding.
This is where the Burning Bush enters the story, marking a significant break with pagan conceptions. This revelation, (“I am that I am”), this word of a righteous God, unites the ever-present numinous awe with the moral law written in every human heart. As Lewis writes:

“In many forms of Paganism the worship of the gods and the ethical discussions of the philosophers have very little to do with each other. The third stage in religious development arises when men identify them – when the Numinous Power to which they feel awe is made the guardian of the morality to which they feel obligation.”

The mere fact that humans have always been seeking does not mean there’s nothing to be found – in fact, it suggests the opposite. To be Christian is to believe that such sublime truth can be attained not through primal religious awe, nor any amount of pagan ritual, but only through Christ, who abides in us as the bread of life. Whether you believe that is up to you.

Steve Murray
Steve Murray
11 months ago

Fair enough. Clearly, i don’t, although i also don’t doubt that Christianity gave impetus to a certain communal ethic which proved to be very useful during the two millennia where it’s been in ascendency, at least in the West, and culminating in the Protestant work ethic.
I have great admiration, for instance, for the mediaeval church architecture which arose due to the beliefs extant at the time.
I disagree with your characterisation of primal awe as “religious”. That’s a later construct, which then became codified.

Nathan Sapio
Nathan Sapio
11 months ago

Glad I read this article just for your comment, well said

Victoria Cooper
Victoria Cooper
11 months ago
Reply to  Steve Murray

But they worshipped animals and natural events and included them in their artwork.

Mustard Clementine
Mustard Clementine
11 months ago
Reply to  Steve Murray

Agreed. We should absolutely design for human needs, including vibrancy, over stark utilitarianism. But there is absolutely no need for that to include religiosity – which could indeed be far more alienating than illuminating, for many.

A beautiful experience is worth it all on its own – and I suspect that it would be way easier to convince more people of the value of investing that in civic spaces, than to muddy the argument for such aspiration with any proselytism.

JR Stoker
JR Stoker
11 months ago
Reply to  Steve Murray

Some classical architects, even at least one working now, would hold that classical architecture and its proportions and orders were passed to by the gods or God. From the ancient Greeks and before, through Rome, Palladio, and on.

Steve Murray
Steve Murray
11 months ago
Reply to  JR Stoker

Interesting idea. I’d argue that classical proportions also tend to lend a certain “sameness” to architecture which modernity shouldn’t necessarily adhere to, and there’s no limit to beautiful architecture which doesn’t adhere to classical standards.

Charles Stanhope
Charles Stanhope
11 months ago
Reply to  Steve Murray

Saint-Ouen, Rouen for example.

Victoria Cooper
Victoria Cooper
11 months ago
Reply to  Steve Murray

Iron age dwellings. Beautiful and functional. Morris would be proud.

Glynis Roache
Glynis Roache
11 months ago
Reply to  JR Stoker

I wonder if you are referring to Quinlan Terry. I was slightly surprised that neither he nor Pugin were given a nod in the article. Nor, as you reference, the divine proportion which is one of those curious numbers found in nature. And not just in the constructions of the ancient Greeks (intentionally or otherwise). From my memories of equine biomechanics, I can tell you it even features in the pelvic bones of horses. The nearer to the golden ratio their proportions, the greater the athleticism. Not just a visual success story!

Steve Murray
Steve Murray
11 months ago
Reply to  Glynis Roache

At the risk of over-commenting to this article, i find that absolutely fascinating! We must, however, beware of attributing anything other than evolutionary success to such natural phenomena.

Glynis Roache
Glynis Roache
11 months ago
Reply to  Steve Murray

Evolutionary advantage is not a straightforward system. Mutation by mutation can work for eg eyes – as Dawkins likes to describe. For other things there are problems. A hint of a wing, unlike a hint of sight, confers no obvious advantage. There are suggestions of stockpiling ie hanging on to advantageous mutations till they add up to something worth developing. Foresight in the ‘blind watchmaker’? I’m sure scientism will explain it away soon …

T Bone
T Bone
11 months ago

Seems like a plausible hypothesis with a questionable analysis.  The general ideas of building more beautiful cities is commendable but the idea of making them Sacred is the Utopian Fallacy.

I recognize this article was not written as a slight of hand to Christianity but as an “equalitarian” homage to all spiritual communities.  Like a Cultural Polytheism not dissimilar to Ancient Rome or Greece. But let’s remember those were cultures of Militarism that seized assets from other territories to build these beautiful cities and in the process the State accepted their Gods into the Pantheon.

Christianity does not accept other Gods.  You can have your other Gods but Christians will not recognize them just as Atheists need not recognize Christianity.  Ironically, Protestant Christianity paved the way for Atheists to be open in skepticism unlike any Religion before it. While there are certainly exceptions, it afforded fairly relentless criticism of its tenets.  No other religious civilization wrote laws like the First Amendment that had a first order priority of protecting people that wanted to relentlessly mock the predominate religion.

The Byzantine Empire was an extension of the Roman Empire, it sought conquest and enriched itself. So did Spain/Portugal and many others and they did so under the banner of Christianity.  While most Missionaries were probably men of Faith, the regimes themselves were Statist not “Christian Empires.”

When the purpose of a conquest is to accumulate gold to enrich oneself and his Earthly King, one has to question how “Christian” the Conquistadors and Naval Pirates were.  Many did question Faith Doctrines developed by “Divine Kings” in 16th and 17th century Northern Europe.  Christianity flourished when it became detached from the State Churches of Europe and many of those people fled to America where the first large scale experiment in Constitutional Democracy with a limited Federal Government was subsequently founded. From there, great towering skylines were built that are now mimicked all over the world.  American cities were the catalysts for economic growth because they inspired a belief in the underlying greatness of the place.  A greatness inspired by believe in a singular Deity and a world that had purpose.

My question is how do you build something sacred if its not inspired by greatness? How do cities become sacred themselves if they need to place equal value on all sacred beliefs? Is that not just Multiculturalism. We see now that building a cohesive society with no universal guiding principles is not possible. 

Building more beautiful cities is something everybody can agree is a good thing but you need cohesive societies with an inspiring and sincere value set to make that happen. The only other way to build inspiring architecture is to just have an intrusive State that sets values on behalf of citizens and builds homages to its Dictators.

Charles Stanhope
Charles Stanhope
11 months ago
Reply to  T Bone

“The Byzantine Empire was an extension of the Roman Empire”.
NO it wasn’t, it WAS the Roman Empire.

T Bone
T Bone
11 months ago

I think “extension” is an appropriate word. Do you just see it as shifting of the Capital to a new territory? I agree there was continuity but the Empire was different in so many ways. Even if Byzantines considered themselves Romans at the time, we can look back now and see so many differences in governance.

Conceptions of Empire get pretty subjective. Most Anglosphere colonists thought themselves Brits until formal distinction was declared.
I’m an American and you’re a Brit so we’re going to see it differently. From the outside world, Australia appears to be a firmly British extension…which makes sense considering it was a penal colony. Kept the Essence and abolished the particulars.

I digress, I’m starting to sound like that goofball, Hegel.

Charles Stanhope
Charles Stanhope
11 months ago
Reply to  T Bone

I must disagree, the term only daters from the 16th century.

Given the longevity of the Roman Empire it is hardly surprisingly that there were differences in governance.
For example the Early Republic was was radically different to the Principate, as subsequently the Tetrarchy would be.
However the dominance of Christianity from c390 that endured for a further eleven centuries was one of the constant features.

As late as say 1204 you still had a monarchical system, with a professional standing army, governing an Empire of Provinces (now called Themes) paid for by regular taxation in hard currency and administered by an Imperial Civil Service. Most if not all of that would have been familiar to Augustus more than a thousand before.
Rome had metamorphosed into a universal culture that no longer depended on you being a tough, swarthy, homicidal dwarf, from the Tiber Valley.

ps. You do know where we sent our convicts before we found Australia?

T Bone
T Bone
11 months ago

Well sure but you can’t say shifting the center from Rome to Constantinople didn’t bring on all sorts of cultural changes. Different geography, demographics and etc. It also took on the character of Constantine as the Saintly Prophet which doesn’t feel Roman in the original sense. I respect what you’re saying. You have a better grasp on the historical factoids of Rome than I do but I still think there are enough fundamental changes to bifurcate Byzantium from Rome.

I realize the British brought many convicts over as indentured servants but the majority of US settlements weren’t penal colonies. Australia was settled later and more directly controlled by the Crown. I mean if you look at the Australian (or NZ flags) it’s got Crown Colony written all over it.

Charles Stanhope
Charles Stanhope
11 months ago
Reply to  T Bone

Well whatever we think, we know that THEY thought of themselves as Romans and who are we to deny them?

You are correct we didn’t have any Penal Colonies as such in our American colonies, but it was rather a convenient ‘dumping ground’ for recalcitrant Sc*tch and Irish troublemakers, and also as an alternative to hanging our own miserable thieves.

The problem with Australia was it was so far away that initially ‘volunteers’ were hard to come by, and after 1783 we had lost America, and had to find somewhere else.

How long Australia and NZ will keep their somewhat anachronistic flags is a moot point.

Charles Stanhope
Charles Stanhope
11 months ago

If you wish to build beautiful cities you only have to look to the Classical World. The Romans for example seamlessly blended art with utilitarianism, to produce such magnificent cities such as Lepcis Magna, Aphrodisias, Timgad and Sabratha. Beauty was at the core of their very existence.
Unlike the Greeks they also kept the ‘Gods’ under control and did not indulge in building unnecessary religious buildings. Thus in the aforementioned Timgad there are twelve sets of Public Baths or ‘Thermae’ and only five Temples, four of them rather small. In Rome itself again it was the great Thermae*, Caracalla, Diocletian etc that dominated the skyline, together with the Flavian Amphitheater (Colosseum) the enormous Basilica of Maxentius, and Circus Maximus. The beautiful and equally renowned Pantheon**is much by smaller comparison.

(*Each covering about twelve hectares.)
(** A temple to ‘all’ the Gods.)

Saul D
Saul D
11 months ago

This picks out the houses of the grand elites and grand buildings of the businesses of the burgesses as ‘the city’. For working people city buildings have always been plainer. Tenement blocks. Two-up-two-downs spread behind the factories. Blank-faced medieval buildings squashed together, squeezing the light out of the street. Sprawling and never ending mid-war estates. The grand buildings were those of the conquering heroes, financial titans and fortune hunters clamouring for social status, and often religious forgiveness.
The modern city of steel and glass apartment blocks of pods with terraces around park lawns is not bad. It’s only problem is that if you are on a newly developed street, modern design is so ubiquitous, it means it can be impossible to tell if you are in a part of London, Barcelona, Warsaw, Hamburg or Copenhagen.

Jonathan Story
Jonathan Story
11 months ago

As is utilitarian everything. The founding father of economics is Jeremy Bentham. He was balmy, and the discipline he sired has remained so.

Steve Murray
Steve Murray
11 months ago
Reply to  Jonathan Story

I think you mean ‘barmy’? Unless you’ve been distracted by Alison Burrow’s reference to palm trees?

laurence scaduto
laurence scaduto
11 months ago
Reply to  Steve Murray

“Balmy” in the US.

Dougie Undersub
Dougie Undersub
11 months ago

Unfortunately, planning regulations, bat boxes, newt surveys and so on have made building anything other than the utilitarian unaffordable.

Alan Thorpe
Alan Thorpe
11 months ago

I read a very brief view of how cities were created that was based on hunter gatherers developing agriculture and slowly becoming more efficient and hence more food was produced than was necessary. This resulted on some people seeing an opportunity to have the easier life of buying and selling the excess food rather than doing the hard work of farming. Hence cities could be supplied with food from surrounding farms.

Nanda Kishor das
Nanda Kishor das
11 months ago

Very inspiring. Worshipping the god of money has brought us nowhere.

Allison Barrows
Allison Barrows
11 months ago

The new construction of a gated community just across the moat of ours tore up a large natural barrier of trees and shrubs so as to utilize every last inch of acreage space. They then planted imported palm trees and flowering shrubs to block our view of each other. This requires expensive regular watering and landscaping, which the natural woods did not.
Then, they built the houses right up to the trees and right next to each other: perhaps there is five feet between structures. And, worst of all, these houses are grey, featureless blocks of cement – starting at $650K.
I’ve dubbed it The Gulag.

Bryan Dale
Bryan Dale
11 months ago

Yet Piece Hall outlived it’s usefulness years ago. Had it been designed by todays standards it would have been torn down in the 19th century and replaced with buildings more useful for their times.

Gregory Toews
Gregory Toews
11 months ago

We can expect nothing else from a culture that believes a human is a purely material phenomenon, obviously. Fortunately for all of us, our immaterial nature isn’t easily concealed or suppressed. It’s (attempted) suppression/constriction results in reality squeezing it’s way out of the modernist box like expanding spray-foam insulation finding openings in walls. Weird shapes result.

laurence scaduto
laurence scaduto
11 months ago

The author’s use of the word “sacred” seems to have put off some commenters. That’s unfortunate because he makes a great point. A city should be much more than the sum of its parts.
I read sacred to mean something more like gracious or some combination of amiable/benevolant/urbane/beautiful/breath-taking…
Here in NYC, the Brooklyn Bridge is magnificent, rising through the mist. The Metropolitan Museum isn’t just a box full of art, it’s a monument to our love of art, a meeting place for friends and lovers, a landmark for homeward bound residents, an armature for the snow that falls from Heaven, etc.
The same is true for the big Library (with the big lions out front) and most of Central Park. (In fact there’s an Alice-in-Wonderland statue where pot-heads would leave gifts for other pot-heads, strangers, under the bronze feet of the Door Mouse, in reference to the song “White Rabbit”. An offering; not to the gods, but to the life we led in the City.)
Like a good story-teller embellishes a story as he performs it, a “sacred City” makes the lives of the people grander, more meaningful and more inherently creative.
I suppose the cultural obssession with efficiency and profit combined with the banishment of “beauty” from the arts has left us bereft of such privileges.

Victoria Cooper
Victoria Cooper
11 months ago

Utilitarian architecture – smacks of communism. And not just the cities, the unique beauty of our countryside is similarly besmirched. Very little of beauty or awe is built nowadays, the nation is losing its soul. We have fewer places to regenerate and those are becoming overcrowded. Mind you, the cost of labour has, thankfully, risen.

Mark Kennedy
Mark Kennedy
11 months ago

Or, more economically and (aesthetically) reverently expressed… in magical language that confirms words can softly caress, or feel like brutal punches in the stomach:
 
 
Quinquireme of Nineveh from distant Ophir,
Rowing home to haven in sunny Palestine,
With a cargo of ivory,
And apes and peacocks,
Sandalwood, cedarwood, and sweet white wine.
 
Stately Spanish galleon coming from the Isthmus,
Dipping through the Tropics by the palm-green shores,
With a cargo of diamonds,
Emeralds, amethysts,
Topazes, and cinnamon, and gold moidores.
 
Dirty British coaster with a salt-caked smoke stack,
Butting through the Channel in the mad March days,
With a cargo of Tyne coal,
Road-rails, pig-lead,
Firewood, iron-ware, and cheap tin trays.
 
John Masefield

UnHerd Reader
UnHerd Reader
11 months ago

This is a truly excellent article, and we should strive to live by the philosophy and ideas you set out within it.

Ruthven sweet
Ruthven sweet
11 months ago

I often wonder why our educated betters – architects, urban planners and the like – all conspire to act against human beings’ best interests. They suffer the indebtedness and rigour of university only to make our lives more miserable. Are they not human themselves? Do they not also enjoy urban spaces which are attuned to satisfy human sensibilities? I guess it all comes down to money when you boil it down. But how refreshing it would be if they just did something for others for a change, and not for money and efficiency or shareholders. Anglo societies like ours seem particularly afflicted by all this. Our town centres are hideous. Litter blows everywhere. All over there seems to be social blight of every kind. The fight back starts with more of Piece Hall, and less of the shite we currently suffer. Maybe then there will be less broken windows.

Kurt Mikula
Kurt Mikula
11 months ago
Reply to  Ruthven sweet

Sometimes I do wonder, if there is more to it. A Faustian Spirit – whatever that is – (or a Freudian Thanatos deeply ingrained in the human psyche) that works against everything that is, including beauty, that negates everthing that builds up.
(Goethe’s Faust, Part One, Mephisto: “I am the spirit that negates. And rightly so, for all that comes to be – Deserves to perish wretchedly; ‘Twere better nothing would begin. Thus everything that your terms, sin, – Destruction, evil represent – That is my proper element.”)