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With very little marine life, the Blue Hole is more of a geological trip than a visit to the zoo. An unbelievable sight from the air, the almost perfectly circular Blue Hole was created by what was a dry cave system in the Ice Age. At 110 feet below sea level, the caves have stalactite formations where reefs and hammerhead sharks lurk in the shadows. The water stands perfectly still, and one can stare up through the passage to the sky above. "It's so distinctive a feature. It's very striking," says Morrisey. May and June are the best months to spot sharks circling the hole.

Port Elizabeth: An Abridged History of the Apartheid City

• Franco Frescura
  INTRODUCTION
  The first immigrant structure in Port Elizabeth was erected by the British in August 1799. Named Fort Frederick, after Frederick, Duke of York, its main function was to guard the landing place and water supplies at Algoa Bay. It is also probable that the British intended to establish a military presence in the region to deter potential Dutch uprisings in the district of Graaff-Reinet, and to protect Cape Town, and hence the India sea route, from possible French attack. The township of Port Elizabeth was laid out in 1815, but was not developed until 1820 when some 5000 British settlers arrived in the Eastern Cape. The economic development of the village was initially slow. James Backhouse (1844), who visited the place in December 1838, reported that:
  "Port Elizabeth is situated on the foot of a steep hill, at the margin of Algoa Bay; it is much like a small, English sea-port town, and contains about 100 houses, exclusive of huts; the houses are of stone or brick, red-tiled, and of English structure. The town is said to have been chiefly raised by the sale of strong drink."
  Thus at its onset Port Elizabeth served predominantly as a service centre for the agricultural hinterland of the Eastern Cape. Its basic function was to handle, and later process, goods and materials passing through its harbour. However developments elsewhere in the southern African interior provided economic stimulus to the new town, and by the 1860s it had overtaken Cape Town as the Colony's premier port. The growth of an ostrich feather industry in Graaff-Reinet, Oudtshoorn and the Albany, the discovery of diamonds in the northern Cape and of gold in the Transvaal, and the outbreak of wars against the Boer Republics, were all to benefit Port Elizabeth. As a result, in the early years of the twentieth Century, numerous manufacturing industries began to be established locally, most notable being a number of motor vehicle assembly plants, which created extensive employment opportunities. This, as well as increasing rural poverty in the region, attracted many workers to the town to the point that, until the 1960s, it maintained its place as South Africa's third largest urban centre.
  Port Elizabeth, as it stands today, owes its form to a number of physical and historical constraints. However, since the early 1900s, colonial segregation planning and a policy of statutary racial separation implemented after 1950, has resulted in what has become a protypical model of the "Apartheid city".
  COLONIAL SEGREGATION
  The early population of Port Elizabeth consisted, in the main, of Europeans, as well as persons of mixed race which the Apartheid system subsequently labelled as "Coloureds" and "Cape Malays". Initially few members of the indigenous population were attracted to the town and, almost from the onset, economic status was related to skin colour. Whites held a virtual monopoly over higher paid jobs and consequently could afford better housing in areas which were usually physically removed from "other" groups. Thus segregation was an integral part of early Port Elizabeth, with the industrial areas of South End and North End being predominantly Coloured, while the Central and Western suburbs were mainly White. However, while White attitudes to Coloured and Malay citizens remained relatively tolerant, official policies toward indigenous residents were markedly different.
  Thus, as a rising number of Black workers began to enter Port Elizabeth seeking employment, so then a number of so-called "locations" began to be established on the outskirts of the White suburbs. Rosenthal (1970) has defined locations as being:
  "Large Native Reserves as well as small areas in municipalities earmarked for residence by Africans."
  The pattern was first established in 1834 when the Colonial Government made a grant of land to the London Missionary Society (LMS) to provide a burial ground and residential area for "Hottentots and other coloured people who were members of the Church" (Baines, 1989). This was located at the crest of Hyman's Kloof, better known today as Russel Road. Other workers however chose to erect their homes closer to their places of employment, or where a supply of potable water was available. The major Black suburbs of that time were:
  Bethelsdorp 1803Fingo and Hottentot Location 1830sLMS Outstation 1834Dassiekraal c1850Korsten 1853Stranger's Location 1855Gubbs Location 1860Cooper's Kloof Location 1877Reservoir Location 1883
  With few exceptions these Black suburbs were informal in nature, and residents there were forced to endure living conditions which contemporary observers described as being squalid and open to exploitation by capitalist landlords. Many Whites considered them to be unhealthy and petitions were repeatedly organised demanding that they be removed to the outskirts of the town. These requests were in direct opposition to the needs of the growing commercial and industrial sectors which preferred to locate their labour sources close to the harbour and the inner city area. These conflicting vested interests created political tension within the Port Elizabeth Council which were only resolved in 1885 when the Municipality adopted its first set of markedly segregationist regulations.
  As a result suburbs for the exclusive use of Black residents who were not housed by employers, and who could not afford to purchase property, were established on the outskirts of Port Elizabeth. Most prominent amongst them were:
  Racecourse 1896Walmer 1896New Brighton 1902
  In 1901 an outbreak of Bubonic plague struck the town. This was the direct result of Argentinian fodder and horses being imported into South Africa by the British military during the Anglo-Boer conflict. These cargos also carried plague-infected rats, and although many members of the White and Coloured communities were also affected, the Black population bore the brunt of the Plague Health Regulations. In 1902 most of Port Elizabeth's old locations were demolished (with the exception of Walmer), their resident's personal belongings were arbitrarily destroyed, and restrictions were imposed upon inter-town travel. Although these curbs might initially have been necessary, they were only loosely applied to Whites, and were maintained upon the lives of Black residents well after they were eased elsewhere, this in spite of repeated complaints by the community's leaders.
  Because New Brighton was located relatively far from the centre, many families preferred to settle in Korsten which, at the time, was beyond the Port Elizabeth municipal boundary, but was still substantially closer to town. Korsten also had a substantially more relaxed attitude towards the brewing of illegal liquor, an activity to which many families turned to as a strategy to balance their monthly household budgets.
  During the colonial period therefore, the location system created a pattern of residential segregation based upon perceived racial and economic differences. However such divisions proved to be only partial, and it was only the implementation of Apartheid Group Areas legislation after 1950 which brought about a structural separation of Port Elizabeth's residential areas. None-the-less it was during this time that the seeds of the Apartheid City were sown.
  POST-COLONIAL SEGREGATION: 1910-1950
  By 1950 the population of New Brighton had grown from 3,650 in 1911 to 35,000. Almost all of it was Black. This polarisation was reinforced by the Native Urban Areas Act of 1923 which required municipalities to establish separate locations for their Black citizens, and made Black residents in "White" areas subject to a permit system which Apartheid legislation subsequently extended into the now-infamous dompas. The Native Land and Trust Act of 1936 also precluded Blacks from purchasing land outside designated areas. Existing suburbs, as well as new housing projects for Whites, began to include racially restrictive clauses in their title deeds. In this way most of Port Elizabeth's western suburbs were reserved for exclusive White residence.
  APARTHEID IDEOLOGY AND IMPLEMENTATION FROM 1950 TO DATE
  When the Nationalist Party came to power in 1948, the City of Port Elizabeth underwent a number of extensive changes in its land use patterns through the implementation of racially-motivated segregationist legislation. This included the separation of citizens into so-called "White", "Bantu", "Coloured" and "Asian" suburbs. Apartheid legislation laid down that such areas should be set apart by buffer strips at least 100m wide. These often coincided with existing physical barriers. As a result, industrial areas such as Struandale, and natural features such as the Swartkops River and its escarpment, and pieces of empty land such as Parsonsvlei, were used to define the parameters of the city's suburbs.
  It is important to note that Apartheid ideology did not view Black workers as a permanent component of urban life, but held that, at some stage, they would return of their own initiative and free will, to some rural "homeland". This is an attitude which had important political repercussions in later years. Not only did it relate directly to the quality of "Bantu" education, which in turn sparked off the Soweto student uprising of 1976, but it also created residential conditions which will take many years, and a substantial proportion of the national budget, to eradicate. Because of this, Black access to land tenure, quality housing, infrastructure, social amenities and economic opportunities was severely curtailed.
  Black suburbs were developed on the remote outskirts of the city making daily travel to the workplace expensive. Also, little retail and business development was permitted within the townships (as they began to be called), forcing residents to conduct the bulk of their shopping in the central city area. The Apartheid City thus did not merely seek to beggar its Black citizens, it also entrenched in its fabric the "company store" relationship existing between its Black suburbs and the White-controlled CBD.
  Matters did not change substantially after 1981 when the Government acknowledged the permanent status of urban Black communities and put in place an Ibhayi Town Council which would administer Port Elizabeth's Black suburbs as a separate municipality. At this stage, the zoning of all industrial, retail and business development within the boundaries of a neighbouring White Port Elizabeth ensured that the two Municipalities did not share equally in the city's tax base. This is one of the ways in which Port Elizabeth's Black citizens continued to subsidise the White community’s expensive segregated lifestyle.
  The process of Apartheid expropriation, relocation and residential control had the effect of increasing New Brighton's population from 35,000 persons in 1951 to 97,000 in 1960. As a result KwaZakele was established in 1956, and following the demolitions of Salisbury Park, Fairview and South End in the late 1960s, Zwide was declared in 1968 and Motherwell in 1982.
  It also needs to be borne in mind that although the Nationalist Government singlemindedly pursued a policy of racial segregation in the case of White areas, it tended to ignore racial mixing and even intermarriage in other communities. Thus even though new segregated suburbs such as Gelvandale, Bethelsdorp and Bloemendal were established for exclusive Coloured occupation, with Malabar being set aside for Indians, some areas such as Korsten which, historically, had enjoyed a mixed population, retained much of their integrated character well into the 1980s. Other communities, however, such as Fairview and South End, saw their homes literally bulldozed to the ground and their lands given over for exclusive White settlement.
  CONCLUSIONS
  It is clear that although the Group Areas Act was repealed in 1991, the component elements of Apartheid planning have been indelibly etched into the urban fabric of Port Elizabeth. It is probable that their effects will continue to be felt for many years to come, and that their traces may never be entirely expunged from the city's map.
  In practical terms this means that the economic inequalities and social injustices which Apartheid planning has imposed upon Port Elizabeth will not be done away through a long term, liberal, free-market exchange of land. Current experience has indicated that, despite the removal of Group Areas limitations, most middle and upper income Black families are trapped in their old suburbs through an inability to dispose of their properties without suffering massive financial losses. The plight of lower income Black families is even worse. It is obvious therefore that this deadlock can only be broken through an interventionist policy of stringent land and price controls orchestrated through a central government committed to strong democracy, community empowerment and the generation of wealth. This is not a philosophy likely to find favour with either White Liberals or the country's Neo-Democrats who have both benefited extensively from the interventionist policies imposed upon a voteless majority by a minority government obsessed with totalitarian notions of race, ethnicity and skin pigmentation. It is probable that the granite edifice of discrimination will not be dismantled by using rubber mallets.
  POSTSCRIPT
  This paper was prepared in about 1990 at a time when I was part of the ANC’s One City Initiatives in Port Elizabeth, and no coherent history of its Apartheid origins was available. To the best of my knowledge it has never been published, although I delivered any number of lectures and public talks on the subject when I was still living in the Eastern Cape. Now that it has been re-discovered, I am sure that I will be able to find a home for it in some journal. Please watch this space.
  BIBLIOGRAPHY
  BAINES, G. 1989. The Control and Administration of Port Elizabeth's African Population, 1834 - 1923. CONTREE. 26. 12-21.BAKER, Jonathan. 1990. Small Town Africa - Studies in Rural-Urban Interaction. Sweden: Nordiska Afrikainstitutet.BACKHOUSE, James. 1844. A Narrative of a Visit to the Mauritius and South Africa. London: Hamilton, Adams.CALDWELL, Sharon Edna. 1987. The Course and Results of the Plague Outbreaks in King William's Town, 1900-1907. Unpublished BA Hons Treatise, Rhodes University, Grahamstown.CHRISTOPHER, AJ. 1991. Port Elizabeth Guide. University of Port Elizabeth.CLAYTON, AJ. 1986. Facts and Figures. Port Elizabeth: City Engineer's Department.DEL MONTE, Lance. 1991. One City Concept: Land Use. Port Elizabeth: Metroplan.FRESCURA, Franco and RADFORD, Dennis. 1982. The Physical Growth of Johannesburg. Johannesburg: University of the Witwatersrand.INFRAPLAN. 1988. Port Elizabeth Metropolitan Study. East London: INFRAPLAN.LEMON, Anthony. 1991. Homes Apart. Cape Town: David Philip.OBERHOLSTER, JJ. 1972. The Historical Monuments of South Africa. Cape Town: NMC.ROSENTHAL, Eric. 1970. Encyclopaedia of Southern Africa. London: Frederick Warne.STRATEGIC FACILITATION GROUP. 1991. Development Facilitation. Port Elizabeth: SFG.TAYLOR, Beverley. 1991. Controlling the Burgeoning Masses: Removals and Residential Development in Port Elizabeth's Black Areas 1800 - 1900. Working Paper No 51. Grahamstown: Institute for Social and Economic Research.
  
  Copyright @ francofrescura.co.za

Spatial Geography of Urban Apartheid- The Johannesburg Case Study

THE SPATIAL GEOGRAPHY OF URBAN APARTHEID - The Johannesburg Case Study
INTRODUCTION
It is true that, in many respects, the roots of racial segregation can be traced back to the nineteenth century and the strictures that colonial society imposed upon southern Africa's urban areas. Case studies in the region seem to indicate that our suburbs were often integrated to a larger degree than is generally admitted by Apartheid's historians, and although black and white were uneasy neighbours, they generally appear to have shared urban facilities with a measure of success. Disputes between the two communities usually arose over the occupation of coveted residential land, an issue which was often linked by whites to the question of public health. Occasionally matters reached a critical point, such as in 1901-1903 when the British importation of fodder from Argentina brought about a nation-wide outbreak of Bubonic Plague. Upon this occasion the authorities unilaterally imposed draconian restrictions upon the Black population, demolished their homes, burned their belongings, and displaced entire communities to sites well beyond the city boundaries. Barring such instances, however, planning decisions which created social divisions were generally made by planners on an ad hoc basis, and were largely guided by considerations of economic class.
A major turning point was reached in 1923 when the Union Parliament passed the Natives (Urban Areas) Act, which laid down the principles of residential segregation and reinforced the doctrine that the African population had no permanent rights in the towns. In spite of this, the now "white" suburbs remained racially integrated to varying degrees until 1948 when the Nationalist Party came to power. At that stage the process of separating communities was placed upon an ideological footing, and was given substance by a variety of inter-linking residential, squatting, labour and security legislation. Although, over the years, the dialectic of Apartheid has tended to change, its net effect upon the black community has involved the dispossession of their homes and land, often with minimal recompense. They have also been denied access to markets, infrastructure and civic amenities, leading to impoverishment and increased economic hardship.
In February 1990 the government began to dismantle the framework of laws upon which the Nationalist's dream of an Apartheid society was based. Democrats throughout the world applauded this event, but almost immediately workers on the ground began to realise that whilst the legislation might have gone, the inequality generated by two generations of statutory discrimination had still to be redressed.
This condition has become most evident in South Africa's urban areas where residential distributions, land uses, transport routes and statutory curbs on economic development have combined to create cities where economic inequality has become entrenched along racial lines. Planners are not unaware of this debate, but the solutions they are currently proposing vary from a liberal, market-based, long-term integration of the suburbs, through to a highly legislated interventionist policy orchestrated through a central government.
The short-comings of either philosophy are self-evident, and it seems probable that whatever solution is finally adopted, it will have to be reached within a framework which takes full cognisance of all the historical factors involved.
In this paper I set out to analyse the historical nature and physical characteristics of the Apartheid city. I examine the role played by planners in the oppression of a people, and look at the problems currently facing community-based professionals, politicians and service organizations attempting to restructure South African cities according to popularly-based democratic principles. Finally I propose some broad guidelines for professional and ethical behaviour which planners might have to follow in order to find greater relevance in a future South African society.
For the purposes of this paper I propose to illustrate my points using the Johannesburg metropolitan area as a primary case study. However this instance is not unique, and surveys conducted by researchers elsewhere in South Africa indicate that similar patterns of growth were experienced by urban settlements elsewhere in this country.
It should also be borne in mind that references made to such terms as Black, White, Indian and Coloured are done in the context of former apartheid and Group Areas classifications. Since 1994 these have disappeared as legal terms, although their implications live on to blight present generations.
THE JOHANNESBURG CASE STUDY
Following the discovery of gold on the farm Langlaagte in April 1886, the Witwatersrand saw an almost immediate influx of people. This was not limited to those directly involved in mining activity, but included a large number of other men and women offering a variety of skills and services of the kind necessary to the establishment of human settlement. By August 1886 Johannesburg could already boast of some 3000 inhabitants, most of whom were white, and on 4 October 1886 the site of present-day central Johannesburg was declared a township. The first building plots were subdivided on a grid-iron pattern and sold by public auction two months later, in December of that year.
The sub-division of what became the new town's central district was a typical product of nineteenth century mining camp planning, and was made with impermanence of settlement in mind. Even after it was realised that the gold reef ran both deep and wide, and the introduction of the cyanide process made deep level mining economically feasible, the general consensus of the time was that Johannesburg's life span would not exceed 25 years. Thus, initially at any rate, life in the new town was one of uncertainty and, for a number of years, many of its buildings retained their prefabricated iron-and-timber character.
It is interesting to note that the residential townships which comprised early Johannesburg, such as Jeppestown, Fordsburg, Turffontein, Mayfair and Newlands, were also laid out on a similar grid-iron system. Not surprisingly these suburbs were also sited close to the Main Reef diggings. Seeing that the mines spread in an east-west direction, it would appear that the Reef acted as one of the earliest factors determining the growth patterns of the young town's residential sector.
RESIDENTIAL EXPANSION TO THE NORTH
For the first seventy years of its life, Johannesburg's residential development occurred predominantly north of the Main Reef. This trend was based upon geographical and early historical factors which, until relatively recent times, have acted as strong deterrents to settlement south of the city. Almost from the onset the rapid development of an industrial belt, spanning from east to west, created an effective barrier between the town's northern and southern areas. The nature of the mine's surface workings, their mine-head establishments, workers' compounds and the lack of road infrastructure made it difficult to transverse this area. As a result few traffic and transport routes were driven through it. These problems were compounded during the rainy season when this land became an impassable muddy quagmire.
Thus whilst the residential suburbs north of the Reef were able to spread east and west with relatively little constraint while remaining in close proximity to the town centre, suburbs to the south found themselves located at a considerable distance from business hub. Another factor which soon came into play was the presence of the sand dumps whose growing bulk around the gold mines began to impinge more and more upon the civic consciousness of the town. Eventually these became associated with Johannesburg's skyline to the extent of being considered one of its more picturesque land marks. In the interim however, under windy conditions, they gave rise to an unpleasant pollution problem which particularly affected its southern areas.
It should also be borne in mind that Johannesburg's southern suburbs are low lying and generally unprotected by the topography. This means that unlike the northern areas, which are shielded by a series of ridges, they are exposed to bitterly cold winter winds; that temperature extremes throughout the year are generally greater south of the Braamfontein Ridge than to its north; and that the discomfort of sand raised by strong winds was aggravated in the southern areas, and tended to be perennial rather than seasonal.
It is not surprising therefore that, as many of early Johannesburg's citizens began to gain in financial substance, they chose to make their homes in the northern areas. Initially this trend to the north was relatively modest, the better homes being located in Doornfontein and Belgravia, below the Braamfontein Ridge, and in Berea above it. These developments were probably facilitated by the fact that Johannesburg's major road links to other population centers in the Transvaal were mostly to the north: Rustenburg, the Barberton goldfields, and most important, Pretoria, capital of the ZAR. Significantly however, the earliest working class suburbs, both black and white, were also located north of the diggings.
After the South African War of 1899-1902, the population's drift to the town's northern residential areas gathered in momentum. Not unnaturally, property developers began to take note of this trend and by 1909 many of Johannesburg's northern suburbs had already been proclaimed. This is not, of course, a reliable indicator of growth, for many of these areas did not reach full development until nearly 40 years later. However some residential building activity did take place, enough it seems to determine the town's main residential and infrastructural thrust for the next half century. The majority of these suburbs were aimed at a middle and upper-middle income clientele, families who would seek land out of reach of the environmental ravages and pollution of mining activity; who would want to live under more favourable climatic conditions, specifically in the cold winter months; and who, most importantly, would also be prepared to pay substantial rates and taxes which would subsidise the development of a physical infrastructure in this area. This, in its turn, allowed the northern suburbs to be laid out in stands much larger than their average southern counterparts.
Plots in the older townships had seldom been larger than 500 square meters, a size probably based on European standards prevailing at that time. However, later suburb development was characterised by land parcels of up to 4000 square meters, and in some cases even more. An interesting factor which has survived to the present day is the elitist image attached to some of the northern suburbs, obviously obtained from the mining magnates who bought into these areas. This, in its turn, attracted the town's white collar workers who were encouraged to settle in the surrounding suburbs. Thus a difference which was originally based upon physical and climatic factors, ultimately became entrenched as one of social class.
The development of apartment buildings, or flats, was only initiated in Johannesburg during the 1920's, beginning in the town centre, spreading into Hillbrow and Braamfontein, and later into Berea and Yeoville.
DEVELOPMENTS TO THE EAST AND WEST
One of the major factors influencing the physical development of Johannesburg, and of the Witwatersrand as a whole, has been the role played by the railway. When the Cape line reached Johannesburg in 1892, it joined the existing east-west railway linking the various mining villages on the Reef. At the onset, trains from the south entered the town from Elandsfontein in the east, making use of an existing natural embankment running from Jeppestown to what was then Park Station, near the old Wanderers. In about 1905 an additional line was laid, linking Johannesburg to Vereeniging via Roodepoort, and a decade later Cape-bound trains were able to travel the more direct westerly route via Potchefstroom and Kimberley.
The introduction of a railroad into Johannesburg's urban fabric had the effect of strengthening what had already become a distinct separation between the residential areas to the north, and the mining, commercial and industrial sectors to the south. However, while it proved to be an effective barrier which promoted these residential trends, it also proved an equally effective curb to the northward expansion of the Central Business District (CBD). It therefore became a powerful structural component of the town's form. It was not until the early 1960's that land pressures in the CBD reached a crisis point. Faced with an inability to expand into undermined land to its south, it was forced to move into Braamfontein, a suburb which had, in the intervening years, become socially and economically depressed.
The town's initial east-west development was encouraged by the growth of working-class residential areas in close proximity to the gold mines. This move was reinforced by the establishment of transport infrastructures, including the railway and, later, a suburban tram network which linked the town centre to the suburbs and permitted rapid expansion to follow in those directions. Growth to the east took place at a relatively faster pace as this area provided added employment opportunities on the Elandsfontein railway yards, renamed Germiston in 1904, and the Boksburg and Brakpan gold and coal mines.
Because the residential suburbs to the east and, more specifically, to the west of the CBD have remained in close physical proximity to areas of blue-collar employment, these areas have retained their working-class character to the present day. One of the reasons for this has been the inherited residential textures of these areas, determined to a great degree by their small stand sizes, generally between 500 and 1000 square meters and, in the case of Laurentzville, as little as 250 square meters. This encouraged the construction of modest, affordable cottages rather than large and more expensive houses.
EARLY POPULATION GROWTH
Prior to the discovery of the Main Reef in 1886, the Transvaal Republic is estimated to have been the home of some 40,000 white immigrant and 300,000 indigenous residents. Of these about 600 whites inhabited the Witwatersrand which, by the standards of that time, was considered to be a fairly well populated area. Within a year of the discovery of gold in Johannesburg, the whole Reef was estimated to have some 7000 people, with 3000 residing in Johannesburg itself. The rise of population numbers thereafter can only be described as phenomenal, following an exponential growth pattern for virtually all sectors of the population. By 1890, a scant four years after the discovery of gold, it had multiplied ten-fold on both the Rand and in Johannesburg. Five years later, in 1895, Johannesburg was known to hold 102,000 people, this number being equally divided between white and black residents.
After suffering from a temporary setback during the Anglo-Boer conflict of 1899-1902, population patterns resumed their previous trends of rapid growth, assisted in part by the influx, in 1904, of some 60,000 Chinese indentured labourers. Following their repatriation in 1909, they were replaced on the mines by the introduction of a migrant black labour system. Initially these men came from Mocambique, but later on they were also drawn from British colonies further afield in southern and central Africa.
THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE SEGREGATED CITY
Before 1822 the indigenous population of the southern Transvaal is estimated to have numbered some 150,000, many of whom lived in large settlements of up to 7000 persons. However, the ravages of the Difaqane, from 1822 to 1836, and the invasion of the region by land-hungry Dutch farmers in 1836 forced many families to leave their ancestral lands. By the time gold was discovered on the Witwatersrand in 1886, their nearest homesteads were located 110km away, near Rustenburg. The ZAR's subsequent imposition of a "hut tax" forced rural residents to enter into white employment. Johannesburg offered both work and higher wages and within a few years the town had become the home of a large, unskilled and predominantly male labour force. Some found jobs as domestic workers in the suburbs, most laboured on the mines.
Early Johannesburg did not offer its black citizens much in the way of housing. While the mines generally looked after their own, and most domestics could expect to have sleep-in quarters, the remainder had to fend for themselves. Almost from the onset, when the town was first laid out, separate suburbs, or "locations" as they were known, were allocated for black, Malay and Asian occupation. Not only did this conform with existing ZAR policies, but the idea of separate residential areas for black and white also suited the mining companies who had recently adopted the "compound" as a means of housing their black labourers.
The concept derived its name from the Malay word kampong, meaning an enclosure. Originally it was implemented for security reasons and was used to confine employees to their quarters for the duration of their labour contracts. This system had previously been used on the Kimberley diamond fields to prevent the pilfering of gems. However, its application on the Witwatersrand was not as harsh. Compounds consisted of single-sex hostels housing between eight and sixteen men per room. Early buildings were set about a central square accessed through a single gateway. The planning of later complexes, which could house up to 5000 workers each, was amended to a fan-shaped pattern, with buildings radiating out from a central access point. This refinement was claimed by mine management to facilitate "riot control", an euphemism used to denote labour disputes which arose from time to time, and which mining companies had little compunction in settling through the use of force. It is evident that, almost from the beginning, this programme gave rise to a number of social problems. Alcohol abuse, venereal disease and prostitution were common occurrences among mine labourers of that time. Matters were not assisted by the general male-female ratio which remained high right up to the late 1930s. In 1902, for example, the total black population on the Rand was 64 664, of which only 7615 were women.
Early maps of Johannesburg show its "locations" to have been sited on the outskirts of white-designated suburbs, on land commonly known as Brickfields. It included Burgersdorp, a low income area where many indigent Afrikaners had also made their homes. This was a poorly drained piece of ground which had originally served as a brickyard, providing the materials for many of Johannesburg's first brick buildings.
Considering the rudimentary methods of waste disposal available there, and the clay nature of the soil, it did not take long for a serious health hazard to develop. Before 1899 Johannesburg's white community had made repeated complaints about this area to the ZAR government. However Uitlander grievances fell upon deaf ears in Pretoria and little could be done during the hostilities. In 1902 the matter was reopened and a Sanitary Commission was appointed to investigate the Brickfields. In November 1903 its report was tabled, recommending that the site be expropriated and redeveloped. These findings were overtaken by events on 19 March 1904 when an outbreak of bubonic plague is reported to have taken place in Burgersdorp. Virtually overnight the inhabitants of Brickfields were evacuated, the area was fenced off with corrugated iron sheeting and everything within fired to the ground by the Fire Brigade. It was subsequently renamed Newtown and redeveloped as a suburb for light industrial use.
Following these events, the residents of Brickfields were moved to a "health camp" near the Klipspruit Sewage Farm, or present-day Kliptown, some 20km from the town centre. Some were accommodated in corrugated iron dwellings, but most were simply provided with materials to build their own homes. Although this settlement was intended to be of a temporary nature, it remained in existence until the mid-1970s, when it was cleared to make way for new housing developments.
Despite having been dispossessed of their homes in the Brickfields, the residents of the resettlement camp near Klipspruit were given no compensation for their properties, nor were they provided with a sanitary infrastructure. The services available to this community remained rudimentary for many years, affecting its quality of life. It must be assumed that, because they had now been removed from the town centre, their welfare had ceased to be of direct concern to its citizens. The people of Klipspruit were not alone in this plight and generally very little was done by the authorities of early Johannesburg to improve the housing conditions of black workers. A small measure of relief was afforded in 1917 when a disused compound on the Salisbury Jubilee Mine was rented by the Town Council and converted to a single-sex hostel to house one thousand men. Two years later, between 1919 and 1922, a housing scheme to provide homes for 5000 people was completed in Western Native Township, but this was a small concession made following the influenza epidemic of 1918. By this stage the black urban population of Johannesburg had risen to 116,120 people and these projects made little difference to the living conditions enjoyed by the majority of the town's black citizens.
There is no doubt that the question of land ownership was a major issue in the housing of black workers. The "Gold Laws", inherited from the ZAR, precluded "persons of colour" from owning land in virtually the whole of Johannesburg. This included citizens from a wide range of backgrounds, including black, Indian, Malay, Chinese and mixed race. Thus the reservation of prime business and residential land for the exclusive use of whites became a political issue at an early stage of the town's history. Western Native, for example, had not been claimed for white use as its land had previously been used as a brickfield, which was subsequently leveled and used as a refuse tip.
By the 1920s other townships, also suffering from poor infrastuctural conditions, had arisen in such places as Newclare, Sophiatown, Prospect and the Malay Location. A number of other areas were also considered to be slums by public officials. However officers from the MOH's department refused repeatedly to condemn them or to have them cleared, knowing full well that the vast majority of their inhabitants were black and that no other facilities existed for their rehousing.
In 1925 a single men's hostel was built at Wemmer. At this stage the ratio between men and women had dropped only minimally to 6:1. Therefore official emphasis was still upon the provision of single sex compounds, rather than in the construction of family homes. However it is probable that official figures failed to reflect the true state of affairs. As early as 1890 the ZAR had introduced a form of "influx control" and the carrying of passes for black residents. Thus although the 1925 figures showed the presence of 117,700 men as against 19,000 women, it is probable that there were far more black women in Johannesburg than was officially indicated. It is credible that, in time, many workers began to bring their families to the town. Being illegal residents their presence could not be declared, and their numbers thus increased the pressure upon an already overloaded informal infrastructure.
Much of the blame for these conditions must lie with the Johannesburg Town Council. By this stage many smaller towns in South Africa had already established their own separate departments to handle what they called "Native Affairs". Johannesburg, on the other hand, waited until 1927 before taking any action, and only set up a Committee of Native Affairs in 1928. Before then the affairs of "native administration" had been handled by the Department of Parks and Recreation.
THE FIRST BLACK SUBURBS
By 1930 large extensions had been made to Western Native Township, and the new suburb of Eastern Native had also been established. The latter was never permitted to grow to any significant size and today survives only as a Municipal single men's hostel. In the same year 2500 acres were purchased near Klipspruit, and in 1931 a start was made on the suburb of Orlando, named after Councillor Edwin Orlando Leake. However progress was slow, and by 1939, Johannesburg could only boast a total of 8900 houses, and hostel accommodation for 6700 single men. By then the black population was 244,000 with a male to female ratio slightly below 3:1.
The next five years were an important period in the history of Johannesburg's black residential sector. With most of the white labour force engaged in overseas war duties, increasing demands were made upon local skilled and unskilled labour. The war effort not only boosted the industrial and manufacturing sector, but its demands for material production broke down many old prohibitions upon the use of black labour. As a result more black workers were brought into urban centres, effectively sensitising them to labour and other economic issues, and forging them into a well-politicised industrial proletariat. The effects of this were only felt fully during the 1950s, once the ANC and PAC began organising campaigns of resistance against continued white political, cultural and economic domination. By the end of the War, Johannesburg's black population had increased to 395,231, with a male to female ratio of nearly 2:1. Over 20% of this population consisted of young children, a clear indication that many families had cut their rural links and were forging a new urban society. It also meant that the needs of education would henceforth also have to be taken into account when planning for the infrastructural needs of the black community.
THE SQUATTER MOVEMENT
Between 1936 and 1946 Johannesburg's black population grew by 59% to a total of nearly 400,000. During the same period the comparative growth of the white sector was 29%. However, up to 1945 the Municipality had only erected a total of 9573 low income housing units and made available 7270 beds in male, single sex, hostels. This means that officially, only some 55,000 persons were being housed in municipal residences. The remainder had to make do as best they might, and although some people worked and slept over in the white suburbs, few could claim a home of their own. The majority were forced to move illegally into vacant tracts of land in such areas as Orlando, Pimville, Dube, Newclare and Alexandra where squatter suburbs sprang up virtually overnight. When the largest of these camps was eventually cleared in 1955, it was found to have housed an estimated 60,000 persons. The lack of sanitation and the overcrowding of housing in these areas caused the overload of an already meagre infrastructure. In time these communities also began to demand other facilities, such as schooling, which was either rudimentary or non-existent, or was being withheld by the authorities as a matter of policy.
Over the years the quality of life available to residents in these areas has become a matter of some debate. Liberal commentators have pointed out, with some reason, to the richness and variety of sub-cultures which existed in places such as Sophiatown. It is true that these squatter areas gave rise to some of this country's most notable black poets, writers, artists, singers, musicians and political leaders. It is also true, however, that they suffered from a high crime rate, and that residents were generally at the mercy of profiteers, slum-lords, farmers of shacks and any carpet-bagger unscrupulous enough to exploit the despair and plight of others. Richard Rive has pointed out that, contrary to the romantic image that white liberals have painted about District Six, in Cape Town, the residents themselves considered it to have been a slum and often "could not wait to get out". The same sentiments were also expressed by the people of Pageview, or "Vietas", in Johannesburg prior to the demolition of this area.
Not unnaturally, such conditions also gave rise to a generation of political leaders and socially involved persons who voiced the grievances of black workers. Patrick Lewis has called them "leaders outside the law" and, in view of subsequent events, it is significant that the City Council of that time found itself powerless to act against them. It was only the coming to power of the Nationalist Party in 1948 which temporarily stilled the voices of legitimate black protest and forced many of its leaders into exile or jail.
Predictably a riot did eventually occur in August 1947 when municipal offices were attacked and three white policemen were killed. The Council's attitude at the time may be best summed up by a memo they submitted to the Governmental Commission of Enquiry into this event. Under the heading of "Fundamental Causes", they claimed that:
"In the submission of the Council, the fundamental cause of the riot is the attitude of mind produced in the urban native population by the series of squatter movements which have occurred in Johannesburg since 1944 and which may best be summarized as one of contempt for authority and for constitutional methods in favour of direct action, however illegal and violent, coupled with growing political and national consciousness of the urban Native population".
Writing some 19 years later, Patrick Lewis, a self-professed liberal and a former Johannesburg City Councillor during that period, also attempted to dismiss the social and political realities of the squatter movements. He claimed that their leaders were acting as the agents of financially motivated profiteers and slum lords, a naive assertion which indicates, if nothing else, an ignorance of local housing conditions, and of the needs and aspirations of urban black residents.
The period between 1939 and 1945 is also significant for it marks a time when the economic and residential make-up of Johannesburg's urban black population underwent final and irrevocable change. Before the war this community was marked by a sizeable component which retained seasonal links to the rural areas. This was owed to the rotational nature of the migrant labour system, which brought rural workers to the city on eleven month contracts and then expected them to return home until the cycle was repeated the following year. After 1945 the make-up of urban black society changed to included a greater proportion of children. This indicated a tendency on the part of black families to sever their rural roots and to establish permanent homes in urban areas. In 1948 the Nationalist Government attempted to reverse this trend by introducing a policy of forced "repatriation" to "independent states" having a predominantly agrarian economic base. This promoted a myth of "rural ethnicity" which sought to deny the existence of an industrial proletariat, a position which the Government only abandoned relatively recently.
Thus the planning and implementation of urban housing programs in Johannesburg after 1945 had to take into account the existence of an expanding and permanent urban black population. However a realisation that demographic changes had taken place was slow in percolating through to the civic decision-making process, and of the 10,730 house contracts placed between 1940 and 1947, only 1538 were built. Instead it was thought that relief for squatters could be found in a policy of temporary housing. Although some units were built on a short-term basis, they were experimental in nature and suffered from some notable technical and planning flaws. Further housing activity took place between 1947 and 1951, when a total of 6788 units were built. It was not until 1951 when two acts, designed to ease the nation-wide housing crisis, were promulgated. The "Prevention of Illegal Squatting Act" was the first of over one hundred pieces of similar legislation designed to give local authorities the means of removing squatters from land; the "Native Building Workers Act" authorised the utilization of skilled black labour on low-income housing schemes. The combination of the two, together with a large infusion of State funds, allowed Municipal housing agencies to initiate new and large-scale housing programs in Johannesburg's black residential areas.
LOW-COST HOUSING DEVELOPMENTS IN THE POST-WAR ERA
The immediate effect of the "Native Building Workers Act" was the formation of a Housing Division within the City Council. With the assistance of Governmental subsidies, and a series of loans raised from Johannesburg's mining companies, most specifically Sir Ernest Oppenheimer of Anglo-American, the Housing Division was able to implement a number of site-and-service schemes which eased the crisis to a small degree. By the time building operations reached their peak in Johannesburg in 1958, 40 houses per day were being handed over for occupation by the Housing Division, and by 1969 a total of 65,564 houses had been built in Soweto alone.
The houses were built as the result of research conducted by the National Building Research Institute (NBRI) between 1948 and 1951. Although this project is generally considered to have been the result of group effort, much of it revolved around the ideas of Douglas Calderwood, a young architect working at the NBRI at the time. He subsequently incorporated his work into two academic dissertations for which he was awarded an MArch and, later, a PhD, by the Department of Architecture at the University of the Witwatersrand. The dwellings were probably designed by another young architect employed by the NBRI, Barrie Biermann, who has since become better known for his research in Cape Dutch architecture. Biermann's knowledge of the Cape vernacular is evident from the plan of the average Soweto house, a four-roomed unit which resembled a double-pile langhuis. It became generally known as the NE 51/6, where "NE" stood for Non-European, "51" was 1951, the year of Calderwood's doctoral thesis, and "6" was the drawing's number in the thesis. Other designs included the NE 51/7, consisting of a pair of semi-detached NE 51/6s, and the NE 51/9, a slightly larger version of the NE 51/6 with an internal bathroom. In later years Johannesburg's Housing Division also evolved their own versions of the NE 51/9, which they called the "Type L" and the "Type M" respectively. Few of these, however, are known to have ever been built.
These designs, however, should not be read in isolation of white opinions prevailing at that time. In April 1950, the Minister of Native Affairs, Dr EG Jansen stated in Parliament that it was a:
"... wrong notion that the Native who has barely left his primitive conditions should be provided with a house which to him resembles a palace and with conveniences which he cannot appreciate and which he will not require for many years to come."
Jansen, who went on to become Governor-General of the Union of South Africa, was, in many ways, echoing the sentiments of previous colonial governments. In 1894, during the planning stages of Vrededorp and the nearby Malay Location, for example, President Kruger is reputed to have slashed the size of plots down to 250 sq ft, claiming that:
"Ek sal hulle nie plase gee nie, maar net sitplekke". (I will not give them farms, but only places to squat)
Calderwood's work for the NBRI in the early 1950s was therefore designed to meet such governmental standards and, ironically, forms the basis for Nationalist housing policy right up to the mid-1980s.
The planning of Soweto incorporated a number of important features. There is no doubt that its town planners were inspired by "garden city" theories current in Europe at that time. Its streets broke with the grid-iron pattern common in other parts of Johannesburg, and were designed to promote a hierarchy of traffic routes. Suburbs were laid out to create neighbourhoods, and green areas and civic spaces were integrated into the overall plan. Houses were detached and each was set on its own plot of land.
The idealism of the planners however, was offset by the unavoidable fact that Soweto was the brainchild of racist and segregationist thinking. This manifested itself in a number of ways. These have been summarised in a subsequent section of this paper.
Many of Soweto's suburbs also owe their birth to the destruction of other black residential areas, such as Western Native, Eastern Native, Sophiatown and the Moroka squatter camp. Each of these, in its own time, represented a pocket of political resistance against white racism and segregationist ideology. Each was destroyed in its turn, willfully and systematically, by a governmental bureaucracy bent upon breaking down existing social structures and democratic political movements. Resettlement was therefore used as a political weapon, deliberately dispersing neighbourhood units and support groups, separating families and neighbours, as a means of maximising the shocks of removal and dispossession. Soweto is the spawn of apartheid, and its location, planning and architecture serve as constant reminders of this fact to its residents.
After 1963 Municipal housing activities in Soweto began to wind down and after 1969 these came to a virtual standstill. In 1973 the West Rand Administration Board (WRAB) took over the control and day-to-day administration of Soweto from the Johannesburg's NEAD. However, by the 1970s housing had, once again, become a major political issue in Johannesburg's black community, and although the 1976 Soweto student uprising was sparked off primarily by dissatisfaction with current standards of black education, popular grievances with local housing conditions were important lateral issues in the conflict that ensued.
IDENTIFICATION OF THE APARTHEID CITY
Apartheid city planning is marked by a number of features which, read in a historical context, could be interpreted as part of a segregationist residential policy. Taken as a whole, however, they fall into a pattern which reveals a wider ideological intent. These characteristics may be summarised as follows:
Segregation of Residential Areas. Selected residential suburbs were set aside for the exclusive use of specific communities. This segregation did not only take place along racial lines but, in some cases, was extended to perceived "ethnic" groupings in the black community itself. As a result certain areas of Soweto, near Johannesburg, were set aside for Nguni, Sotho, Tswana and Venda language groups, and even the Nguni suburbs made allowance for Zulu, Xhosa, Ndebele and Tsonga sub-divisions. In the case of black/white segregation, this was regulated by legislation which controlled so-called "Group Areas", miscegenation and intermarriage between the races. On the other hand, the separation of "ethnic groups" was entrusted to white bureaucrats with little knowledge of anthropology, or empathy for indigenous value systems. Separation between white and not-white citizens was strictly enforced, often by brutal police action, whilst little attention appears to have been paid to residential mixing and integration within the not-white group.
Use of Buffer Zones. Group areas were separated by means of buffer zones, which were 100m minimum width, but in some cases, could be as much as 250m. In the case of some smaller municipalities the mandatory existence of buffer zones had a negative effect upon the growth of white residential and business areas, leading these to openly ignore regulations promulgated under an ideology they officially espoused.
Use of Natural Features. In many instances planners were allowed to incorporate natural features, or areas where construction was difficult, into their buffer zones.
Industrial Belts as Buffer Zones. Although buffer zones were used to create and reinforce racial segregation, this land was invariably retained under white municipal control and in many cases was developed as industrial townships. Thus although businesses in these areas employed workers from the nearby black suburbs, their rates and taxes were paid to the white municipality under whose control they fell. The factories were therefore contributing to the tax base of the white municipality, and subsidising its white infrastructure.
Extended City Planning. Black residential suburbs were invariably removed from the CBD, an obvious link with the colonial Segregated City. The distance from the city centre varies from instance to instance. Soweto, for example, was the product of apartheid planners who originally wished to locate it in the vicinity of Newcastle, in Natal. It was their intention to link it to the Witwatersrand by a high-speed railway system (as yet not invented) which would have covered the distance in under two hours. Although this proposal was successfully blocked by the Johannesburg Council, the location of Soweto was ultimately guided by the establishment of Kliptown and Nancefield in 1904 to the south-east of Johannesburg.
Extended Road Links. One of the most noticeable features of the Apartheid City is the wide spread of its residential suburbs linked by a relatively long travel links. An integrated city on the other hand, would probably have developed along more compact lines.
Military Control. Many black residential suburbs established during and after the 1950s are also marked by their proximity to military bases and airfields. It is not an accident that the Lenz Military Camp and the Baragwanath Military Airfield are located in close proximity to Soweto.
Radial Street Planning. Similarly many black towns were planned to facilitate military operations within their streets. This is not a recent paranoia, but dates back to the time when Verwoerd was Minister of Native Affairs. The results are etched in the road plan of Soweto, whose radial streets connect a series of vacant hubs. The theory was that, in times of civil unrest, nests of sub-machine guns could be located on this land, covering the radial roads and enabling troops to isolate trouble spots in a series of pincer movements. Although the student uprising of 1976 exposed the weakness of such thinking, military interference in urban planning has not ceased and up to comparatively recent times plans for new black residential suburbs had to be scrutinised, and vetted, by the local military.A military and totalitarian mindset is also revealed by the limited number of access points provided to black suburbs, to facilitate sealing off an area during times of civil unrest. A major urban centre such as Soweto, with a population of 1.5 million people, can only be accessed by motor vehicles at four points.The planning of radial roadways and the provision of limited access to an area was not the invention of the architects of apartheid, but is a salient feature of mine compound planning.
Social Infrastructure. The development of separate residential areas must also be read in the context of prevailing white political philosophy. Nationalist thinking perceived South Africa's black citizens to be perpetually rural, and any access they might have to an urban area was only temporary. Their homes were therefore a reflection of such impermanent status, and their suburbs were not permitted to develop features of any permanence. For this reason social amenities were usually neither plentiful nor well equipped.
Housing. Stands were kept deliberately small, usually at less than 300 square metres, whilst the white equivalent was kept at 700-800 square metres. Black housing was small, poorly built, devoid of internal doors, ceilings and internal services. Most housing stock consisted of the state-built NE 51/6, which were less than 50m in area. These were not sold, but were retained in government ownership and rented out. The state also refused to conduct any maintenance upon their properties, and would not allow residents to extend or improve these, even at their own expense. Services were kept to a minimum, with rudimentary roads, water and sewage reticulation, and no provision was made for electricity or telephone.
Despite the fact that houses were built using a conventional technology, the textures of the townships remained consistent with those of a squatter camp. The housing process included no consultation with client communities, and plans were often designed at a ministerial level by politicians, farmers and lawyers.
THE APARTHEID TAX BASE
Its is probable that, in addition to the above, a number of other characteristics could be assigned to the Apartheid City which do not find direct physical manifestation. Perhaps the most contentious of these centers upon the allegation that apartheid's planners set out, coldly and deliberately, to beggar their black co-citizens. This was done in a number of ways:
Since 1913 Parliament has promulgated a succession of legislative measures which have limited land ownership by the black community, curtailed the extent of its settlement, and removed its existing rights to tenure. This has effectively excluded them from the landed bourgeoise, and prevented them from accumulating wealth through property investment. In rural areas also, black farmers were denied access to markets by the development of a transport infrastructure which deliberately avoided those regions better known today as "homelands".
In the urban areas, no major manufacturing or retail developments were permitted to set roots in the black suburbs. This created a "company store" relationship between white business and its black workers, where the latter were expected to earn their wages in the white city, and spend this money in white-owned shops. This created a cash monopoly which decreased levels of community wealth and reduced its potential for generating savings, and therefore investments.
When separate local government structures were established in the black suburbs during the 1970s, white municipalities were allowed to retain control of the industry and commerce within their boundaries. Thus, despite the fact that their profits were earned from citizens of all races, their rates and taxes were paid into the coffers of white municipalities. In this way the black community has, for many years, been made to subsidise the infrastructure and living standards of its white neighbours.
Because of its extended plan, unnecessarily long transport routes, and duplication of amenities, the Apartheid City has been enormously expensive to service. This financial burden has not been carried by the white taxpayer alone, but it has been the lot of all of this country's citizens.
SOME FUTURE PROJECTIONS
Hendrik Verwoerd, PhD, has been described by a number of historians as the "Architect of Grand Apartheid", and is credited by his followers to have been a man of great intellect. His successor, Balthazar J Vorster, was an advocate and, reputedly, an astute and capable leader. It must be assumed, therefore, that both men were intelligent enough to project their vision forward to a time when bigotry could no longer form the ideological basis for national government. Grounding their social engineering in theories of crude baasskap, they used the legislative process to make "class" synonymous with "race". Their measures were sweeping and breathtaking in their intent, covering the full range of social concerns from sex through to labour, from field through to house. Thus apartheid did not become merely the means of plundering the wealth of the country, and of placing it in white, predominantly Afrikaner, hands. It was also a social system which ensured that, once racism had abated, class would replace race as the primary means of social differentiation. Apartheid therefore set out to create in perpetuity a proletariat which, through no coincidence, was also black.
This has become increasingly obvious since the repeal of the Group Areas Act in 1991, when many workers in the field of planning began to realise that the effects of Apartheid will be with us for many generations to come. This does not refer only to the idiosyncratic road plans, or the physical barriers it placed between communities, but also includes the ghetto textures of black residential areas. It is not enough to believe that, given enough time and sensible land use de-regulation, these effects will be minimised and even wiped out. Life in a black suburb differs radically from that enjoyed in a white area, and few of our black citizens are currently prepared to enter into exile in their own city. Current experience has also indicated that, despite the removal of Group Areas limitations, most middle and upper income Black families are trapped in their old suburbs through an inability to dispose of their properties without suffering massive financial losses. The plight of lower income Black families is obviously worse.
Therefore, if we are to overcome the after-effects of the incubus we have belabouring under these past 54 years, it will be necessary for our city planners to initiate action of a deliberate and proactive nature to begin the breakdown of its major features. This will undoubtedly require a great deal of courage, as some of the following measures might indicate:
The integration of middle and upper income suburbs, perhaps through a subsidised equalisation of land. This will not only give black families access to existing white suburbs, but also make existing black suburbs more attractive to white residents.
The establishment of new low and middle income housing estates in such a manner as to undermine and break down the existing geography of spatial segregation. Notable areas of action in Port Elizabeth might include developments at Driftsands, Fairview and Parsons Vlei.
The alteration of existing land textures in black residential areas, through a gradual process of erf consolidation.
Improving working class access to inner city land. This may be done in a number of ways:
Improving public transport links between outlying areas and inner cities, possibly through a heavily subsidised light rail system.
Creating areas of medium rise living within the inner city, giving a selection of rentable as well as purchasable residential space. In Port Elizabeth this could take place in North and South End, the east end of Walmer and the lower Baakens Valley.
Changing the nature of some existing inner city areas, from light industrial and manufacturing to a mixed residential/light industrial use. This will permit shopkeepers and crafters to live above their work premises, subsidising their living standards and encouraging light industrial and manufacturing entrepreneurship.
Redeveloping and changing the nature of some areas of existing mixed land usage which are currently suffering from low development and urban blight.
The decentralisation of retail and business functions to the black suburbs. In some instances this might extend to developing new decentralised urban nodes.
The energetic revitalisation of historical CBD areas.
It is also obvious that the patterns of autocratic, top-down planning which local authorities had formerly adopted will have to undergo dramatic revision if all communities are to be given a voice in determining the kind of city they wish to live in. Planning decisions in the future will need to be made in the context of a united, democratically elected, local city administration. As those already engaged in such processes already know, this can be a cumbersome exercise, fraught with problems. Matters may be facilitated, however, if city administrators were to adopt the following principles and incorporate them in their modus operandi:
that city planning must be undertaken as part of a consultative process between all affected communities, and must involve their civic representatives as well as all other interested parties. The idea that elected officials and paid bureaucrats can be allowed to make decisions first, and then inform their constituencies, must be relegated to the past.
that all urban development will need take place within the context of a wider national policy of land rationalisation and appropriate use.
that building work will also need to involve the creation of labour models which will maximise current labour resources and create opportunities for new skills and new entrepreneurial participation.
and that they will take place in the context of a wider planning process which takes due regard of a regions' historical and natural heritage.
CONCLUSIONS
It is clear that although the Group Areas Act was repealed in 1991, the component elements of Apartheid planning have been indelibly etched into the urban fabric of our cities. It is probable that their effects will continue to be felt for many years to come, and that their traces may never be entirely expunged from the South African urban fabric.
Changes are not likely to take place through a long-term, liberal, free-market exchange of land, but will probably require a series of stringent land and price controls orchestrated through a city government committed to strong democracy, community empowerment and the generation of wealth. This is not a philosophy likely to find favour with the broad white electorate, nor with white Liberals or the country's neo-Democrats, all of whom have benefited extensively from the implementation of Apartheid's economic measures. However the Apartheid City was the creation of a doctrine-driven central government, and was only achieved through the imposition of extreme hardships upon the black community. These families are now entitled to a form of restitution, and one of the ways in which this could take place is through an improved quality of housing, of life and of economic opportunities.
To use an architectural metaphor, the edifice of apartheid was only made possible by a structure, a scaffolding, of inter-supporting laws and edicts. Once the building was completed and could stand alone and unassisted, then the scaffolding could be dismantled and removed. It is true that, after 2 February 1990, the Nationalist Government began assiduously to remove the legal props to apartheid. This work has been continued by the Government of National Unity that has replaced it, but the substantive structure of economic inequality inherited from that system remains, nonetheless, very much in place. Its granite face will not be affected by rubber mallets, but will require a demolition tool made of a sterner materials.
This also means that the planning profession will have undergo severe structural changes if it is to meet the needs of a future democratic South Africa. It is clear that, in the past, it was the work of planners that gave Apartheid ideology its physical dimensions, and permitted its implementation on the ground. The design of radial roads, limited access townships, cordons sanitaire and segregated facilities reveals a totalitarian mind-set reflective of an oppressive and unjust society. It is now up to the new generation of town planners to reconcile the mistakes of the past with the realities of the future, and help our people achieve the greatness they deserve. I wish them well in their endeavours.
POSTSCRIPT
This has undergone a number of revisions and transformations since its original draft as a conference paper in 1982 when Dennis Radford and I presented it as a joint paper entitled Egoli: The Historical Growth and Development of Johannesburg (SA Institute of Race Relations conference on Urbanization. Johannesburg, October 1982). So many, in fact, that, in editing this website, I gave up trying to find a definitive version and instead opted for the most recent (The Spatial Geography of Urban Apartheid. After Apartheid: Vol 2, Culture in the New South Africa. Editors Robert Kriger and Abebe Zegeye, 2001. 65-90). I apologise in advance for the confusion that has no doubt arisen, and can only say that this is a subject I deeply care for, and about which a lot of other South Africans are also concerned. Anyone who cares enough about the subject might care to also note the following sources:
Deconstructing the Apartheid City. Paper to the workshop on South African Cities in Transition, HSRC, Pretoria, 26 January 2000.
The Apartheid City: Tearing Down the Edifice. Address to the Johannesburg Historical Foundation, 20 April 1996.
The Spatial Geography of Urban Apartheid. BETWEEN THE CHAINS, Johannesburg Historical Foundation Silver Jubilee Edition, 1969-1994. Vol 16, 1995. 72-89.
The Apartheid City. Paper to the African Studies Association 36th Annual Meeting on Africans, Africanists, Advocates and Critics: Rethinking Perspectives and Politics, Boston, 4-7 December 1993.
The Spatial Geography of the Apartheid City. THE FIRST WORLD-THIRD WORLD RATIO. Port Elizabeth: SAITRP October 1992. 1-33.
The Spatial Geography of the Apartheid City. Paper to the SAITRP National Conference on The First World-Third World Ratio - A Recipe for Prosperity or Poverty? Port Elizabeth, 12-14 October 1992.
The Physical Growth of Johannesburg: A Brief Survey of its Development from 1886 to Date. FRESCURA, Franco and RADFORD, Dennis. Teaching paper for Department of Architecture, University of the Witwatersrand, Johannesburg, 1983.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
ALEXANDRA TOWNSHIP COMMITTEE. 1947. Report of the Committee ... to Consider the Future of Alexandra Township et al. Pretoria.ARON, Helen. 1972. Parktown, 1892-1972. Johannesburg: Studio Thirty Five.BACKHOUSE, James. 1844. A Narrative of a Visit to the Mauritius and South Africa. London: Hamilton, Adams.BAINES, G. 1989. The Control and Administration of Port Elizabeth's African Population, 1834-1923. CONTREE. 26. 12-21.BAKER, Jonathan. 1990. Small Town Africa - Studies in Rural-Urban Interaction. Sweden: Nordiska Afrikainstitutet.CALDERWOOD, DM. 1955. Native Housing in South Africa. Johannesburg: University of the Witwatersrand.1964. Principles of Mass Housing. Pretoria: CSIR.CALDWELL, Sharon Edna. 1987. The Course and Results of the Plague Outbreaks in King William's Town, 1900-1907. Unpublished BA Hons Treatise, Rhodes University, Grahamstown.CARR, WJP. 1990. Soweto - Its Creation, Life and Decline. Johannesburg: SAIRR.CARRIM, Nazir. 1990. Fietas: A Social History of Pageview. Johannesburg: Save Pageview Association.CARTWRIGHT, AP. 1965. The Corner House. Purnell: Cape Town.1968. Golden Age. Purnell: Cape Town.CED, Johannesburg City Council. Undated. Metropolitan Johannesburg.Undated. Greater Johannesburg Area Population Report.CHRISTOPHER, AJ. 1991. Port Elizabeth Guide. University of Port Elizabeth.CLAYTON, AJ. 1986. Facts and Figures. Port Elizabeth: City Engineer's Department.DEL MONTE, Lance. 1991. One City Concept: Land Use. Port Elizabeth: Metroplan.FINANCIAL MAIL. 1987. Centenary of the Johannesburg Stock Exchange. Johannesburg: Times Media.FRESCURA, Franco. 1977. Housing Strategies in an Urbanising Black Situation. Unpublished BArch Treatise, Department of Architecture, University of the Witwatersrand.1982. A Review of South African Squatter Settlements in the Late 1970's. ARCHITECTURE, MAN, ENVIRONMENT, Durban: University of Natal. 81-90.1990. Tyoksville, Eastern Cape. URBAN FORUM, Vol 1, No 1. 49-74.1994. King William's Town Conservation Impact Study. Port Elizabeth: EDU.FRESCURA, Franco and RADFORD, Dennis. 1982. The Physical Growth of Johannesburg. Johannesburg: University of the Witwatersrand.HERMER, Manfred. 1978. The Passing of Pageview. Johannesburg: Ravan Press.HOERNLE, Alfred. 1943. The Future of Alexandra Township. Johannesburg: Alexandra Health Committee.INFRAPLAN. 1988. Port Elizabeth Metropolitan Study. East London: INFRAPLAN.JOHANNESBURG HOUSING COMMISSION. 1904. Report of the Johannesburg Housing Commission. Johannesburg.JOHANNESBURG INSANITARY AREA IMPROVEMENT SCHEME COMMISSION. 1903. Report of the Johannesburg Insanitary Area Improvement Scheme Commission. Johannesburg.LEMON, Anthony. 1991. Homes Apart. Cape Town: David Philip.LEWIS, Patrick RB. 1966. A City Within a City – The Creation of Soweto. University of the Witwatersrand, Johannesburg.LEYDS, GA. A History of Johannesburg.LORIMER, EK. 1971. Panorama of Port Elizabeth. Cape Town: AA Balkema.NEAD, Johannesburg City Council. 1965. Memorandum on the History of the Non-European Affairs Department.1969. Soweto: A City Within a City. Johannesburg: Non-European Affairs Department.NEAME, LE. c1959. City Built on Gold. Cape Town: CNA.OBERHOLSTER, JJ. 1972. The Historical Monuments of South Africa. Cape Town: NMC.PARNELL, SM. 1990. The Ideology of African Home-Ownership: The Establishment of Dube, Soweto 1946-1955. Johannesburg: History Workshop, University of the Witwatersrand.PICKARD-CAMBRIDGE, Claire. 1988. The Greying of Johannesburg. Johannesburg: SAIRR.RANDALL, Peter and DESAI, Yunus. From Coolie Location to Group Area - Johannesburg's Indian Community. Johannesburg: SAIRR.RAND PLAGUE COMMITTEE. 1905. Report Upon the Outbreak of Plague on the Witwatersrand, March 18th to July 31st 1904. Johannesburg: Argus Printing.ROSENTHAL, Eric. 1970. Encyclopedia of Southern Africa. London: Frederick Warne.STADLER, AW. 1978. Birds in the Cornfield: Squatter Movements in Johannesburg 1944-1947. Johannesburg: History Workshop.STRATEGIC FACILITATION GROUP. 1991. Development Facilitation. Port Elizabeth: SFG.TAYLOR, Beverley. 1991. Controlling the Burgeoning Masses: Removals and Residential Development in Port Elizabeth's Black Areas 1800-1900. Working Paper No 51. Grahamstown: Institute for Social and Economic Research.TRANSVAAL CHAMBER OF MINES. 1887-1973. Reports.VREDEDORP STANDS COMMISSION. 1905. Report of the Vrededorp Stands Commission. Pretoria: Government Printer.WILSON, Francis. Labour in the South African Gold Mines, 1911-1969. Ravan Press.

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Haussmann's Paris

Architecture in the Era of Napoleon III
By Emily Kirkman - 2007.
During a time of industrial change and cultural advancement, Paris became the new home for many, overcrowding the ancient districts and spreading disease. The city, which had been untouched since the Middle Ages, was in dire need of reflecting the new modern ways and putting an end to the spreading medical epidemics. The tight confines of Medieval Paris were hindering the city’s potential for growth and desire to transform into a well-organized urban center. Napoleon III set about bringing order and structure to the chaotic, cramped city and putting an end to its' identity crisis. Baron Georges-Eugene Haussmann, chosen by Napoleon III to lead the project, created new roads, public parks, public monuments, as well as installing new sewers and changing the architectural façade of the city. With the aid of the public, Modernist Napoleon III set out to undertake one of the largest urban transformations since the burning of London in 1666.
Louis Napoleon III, who became emperor in 1852, had a great deal of interest in developing Paris into a new modern city after the Industrial Revolution. Napoleon had a keen interest in architecture and could often be found modifying the blueprints of Paris to include the roads that he wanted to construct. This interest in modifying the layout of the city would manifest itself into a project that would encompass all aspects of urban planning, from streets to sewers, and completely change the shape of Paris as everyone knew it. As stated by Anthony Sutcilffe in his book Paris: An Architectural History, the project “coincided with the first surge of French industrialization, beginning in the 1840s and lasting until the Great Depression of the 1870s.” 1 The Second French Empire, ruled by Napoleon III, had complete control over the country, and he set out to begin construction on his plan that would bring Paris into the modern era and establish its’ dominance as a western city. With the induction of Baron Georges Haussmann as prefect of the Seine, Napoleon had an ally in the government to carry out the modernization. While neither one were trained in the arts, both men had ideas for how they wanted the city to look. Napoleon had a greater interest in the techniques and new materials that were to be used, while Haussmann paid more interest to the aesthetic quality of the modernization project. Yet both men adhered to the classical style, creating a metropolis of neoclassical wonder.2

In 1853, Haussman had outlined and began construction on a series of basic projects that had been planned since the decision had been made to modernize the city. The projects included creating a north-south axis in the city, developing the quarters around the Opéra, as well as “the annexation of the suburbs to make them outer arrondissements, the sewer system, and the water supply.”3 In the early 1860s it is to be known that upon the completion of the original projects, new projects were put in to development, including annexing newer arrondissements, and putting the city into debt.
Haussmann molded the city into a geometric grid, with new streets running east and west, north and south, dividing Medieval Paris into new sections. His plan brought symmetry to the city, something it was lacking beforehand. No Parisian neighborhood was left untouched by Haussman’s hand. “The new streets were also wider than most of their predecessors, for reasons of public health and traffic engineering.”4 During a time when the city was filled to the brim with people, disease was a large risk. The widening of the streets would relieve the cramped city and allow for the people to get around more easily. It also allowed for an increase in height of the buildings, providing more room for the people of Paris to live and thrive in. Running alongside the new roads, which had been widened to accommodate the rising number of people living within the city limits, were rows of chestnut trees, which allowed Haussmann to maintain the geometric and symmetrical aesthetic that he had created with the new roads. And where he struggled to maintain his visual order, new public spaces and monuments were erected.5 In David P. Jordan’s article “Haussmann and Haussmannisation: The Legacy for Paris,” it is noted that Haussmann’s strict plan had its flaws. “Turn off any number of his new streets and you will find the old Paris: the Avenue de l’Opéra or the Boulevard Saint-Germain are good examples.”6 Despite his desire to create a well organized and symmetrical city, his lack of skills as an urban planner got the best of him and he was forced to work around existing streets in order to adhere to his desire for symmetry in the city. The existing architecture in Paris proved to be his greatest enemy when laying out the new roads. The respect for the ancient monuments outweighed the need to unify the city completely and the river Seine served as a natural barrier separating the two sides of Paris and the roads that once had the ambition to link the riverbanks.7 His new roads have been admired since their unveiling. They not only served as new roadways for general use, but also as streets leading to the center of Paris from the train stations scattered throughout the city, as well as roads that led to the monuments that were found throughout the city. He was also responsible for isolating Notre-Dame from the city, emphasizing its’ importance to the city.8

The next step in Haussmann’s plan for the new Paris was to divide the city into arrondissements, or districts. The decision to divide Paris into these new districts came about in 1853, at the same time as the decision to modernize the city completely. The plan “implied the destruction of the old, heterogenous quarters in the city center and the creation of large new quarters implicitly dividing the population by economic status.”9 The original plan called for twelve districts, but in 1860, Paris annexed surrounding communities and was divided into twenty districts. The districts started inward, on the banks of the Seine, and spiraled outwards. With the division of the city into arrondissements came the need for a new water and sewer system. When construction on the new Paris began, “the city was still served by a medieval network of sewers clustered around the city centre.”10 Aided by his chief engineer Eugene Belgrand, Haussmann developed and began construction in 1857 on a larger sewer system that could handle the large amounts of wastewaters coming from the growing city that would be funneled into the Seine downstream from Paris.11

With the growing popularity of water closets, particularly in the richer Parisian districts, came a need to funnel human waste into the sewer system as well. The proposal to channel human feces into the sewers that would mix with the storm water and flow into the Seine was an idea Haussmann objected to. To maintain the order of the water and the urban space, Haussmann viewed it as necessary to keep the clean water separate from the dirty water. “His objections to human excrement entering the sewer system were not only related to the contamination of the underground city; he feared that the dilution of human waste in water would reduce its value as a fertilizer, and thereby disrupt the organic economy of the city.”12 By keeping the wastewater and contaminated water separate, the human waste could be used as fertilizer for crops to help support the economy and allow for agricultural employment opportunities for those moving to the big city. Also by utilizing the new sewer system for human waste, the city would become cleaner and more sterile, eliminating the smell of rotting waste and lowering the threat of disease from living in cramped, contaminated quarters. Cleaning up the city also led way to the cleaning of the people. Now that the people were living in cleaner areas, they themselves also had to be clean, ushering in an idea of modern narcissism. It would be uncivilized to live in such a clean environment when you yourself are dirty and uncouth. The revamping of the sewer system was an integral part of bringing the city of light out of the Dark Ages and into the Modern era.

Quite possibly one of the largest stages of the project, second only to the new roads, was the architecture. To accompany the new streets and provide visual unity to the entire city, Haussmann and his team of architects constructed a unifying architectural façade that changed the shape of Paris. As well as coating the city with a unifying style, they also constructed new public buildings, such as L’Opéra , as well as many other buildings. During the 18th century and the time of the Enlightenment, “architects were no longer content to see their buildings glorify the state, the monarchy, or one specific stratum of society: they aspired to create monuments that would celebrate human greatness, inculcate worthy remembrance, teach moral values.”13 The buildings became expressive and mimicked nature, ignoring the classical norms they once followed. The Baroque and Rococo styles of architectural design were short lived, with people once again wanting a return to the historical classical style that was so prominent throughout Europe. By the fin of the 18th siecle, neoclassicism was becoming the dominant style in both painting and architecture.14 With the widening of the Parisian streets, Haussmann and his crew were able to add an extra story of height to the buildings that lined the roads. The additional height increased the amount of living space within the city limits, easing up on the overcrowding, but not changing the affordability of the housing. The change in height can be seen best in the apartment buildings found rampant throughout the city. They are noted by their simple decoration and adherence to the classical style. An emphasis on the horizontal can be seen in the façade, following the horizontal of the streets they sat next to, adding to the symmetry and geometric unity that Haussmann wanted the new Paris to have. By using a much more austere and “modern” style for the façade, the cost for the buildings could be kept low and the buildings would appear timeless in a changing city.15 The apartment buildings were typically five stories with the ground floor and the in between floors having thick walls. The second story usually had a balcony with elaborate stonework, while the third and fourth floors resembled the second floor without the balcony. The fifth floor or top floor generally had an undecorated balcony that traveled the length of the building. The facades were also constructed out of large stone blocks, adding to the simplicity of the structure and the lack of decoration made the building seem larger than it actually was. Inspired by the Industrial Revolution, the new apartment buildings mimicked the products produced by the factories. Each item was the same and could be built quickly by those with only a small amount of knowledge of architecture or design.

With the rise of the nouveux riches came the need for hôtels or living spaces for the rich within the city. Unlike the simple, austere apartment houses, no expense was spared on decoration and they were constructed in the most fashionable districts within Paris. They were not neoclassical in style like the apartments, but a mixture of early Renaissance and the ornate baroque style. The hôtels were symbols of wealth and status and the rising modernity in Paris.

Not only did Haussmann unify the apartment buildings throughout the city and build rich hiotels, but he also established a corps of architects for the city. They were responsible for designing all the municipal buildings throughout the city. From train stations to government offices, the project’s architects built interactive Neoclassical monuments that would stand proud in the city’s squares and emphasize the importance of modernity.
Most notable are the train stations, which linked Paris to the rest of France. They were an integral part in the rise of the Parisian population, and also allowed not only the rich, but everyone, to take day trips and explore the countryside surrounding the city. The stations were simply designed, with a high central vault, adorned with glass and iron tracery, similar to that of the wheel that propels the train along. The train stations were tall and classical in style, decorated with arcades and balustrades, all while emphasizing the speed and power of the steam engine. To many, the trains represented the new modern time, recognized around the world as one of the greatest products of Industrialization.

L’Opéra Paris, designed by Charles Garnier, is known as one of the greatest public works to come out of this time period. Built in 1861, the opera house unifies not only the city and the quarter that it rests in, but the people of Paris as well. With the newfound industry and technology, the new rich now had free time and could enjoy things like traveling to the countryside for a day or taking in an afternoon performance. The new opera house gave them a place to go and be seen. The building itself is a neoclassical wonder, with Baroque elements, drawing influence from the reigns of previous French rulers. The façade of the building is divided into two levels. The lower entrance level has an arcade of arches adorned with sculpture, while the second level is faced with Corinthian paired columns. The building is adorned with carved decoration as well as a central dome that is richly decorated on the interior. Two smaller domes flank the wings of the building adding the magnificent grandeur of this richly detailed public building. It sits alone in a diamond, with three square plazas surrounding it, isolating the building and emphasizing its importance in modern life. The Paris Opera House is much more richly decorated than any other building built during this time period, but it catered to the rich and those with the time to come spend time within its walls. The building served no governmental purpose, but was instead a site of leisure and pleasure, preserved within its architectural design.16 It is seen even today as a symbol of the nouveux riches and the rise of modernity.

With this magnificent transformation of Paris into a modern city, came a big budget. According to the article “Money and Politics in the Rebuilding of Paris, 1860-1870,” Haussmann calculated in 1869 that the cost of rebuilding Paris since the project’s beginning in 1851 was to be 2,500,000,000 francs. “As an equivalent expenditure in New York City at present, forty-four times the expenditures in the budget of 1955-1956, would be $78,000,000,000!”17 Haussmann and Napoleon III did not forsee the project costing this much and had not raised the amount of money needed to pay for all of their construction. With the addition of new elements to the project, the budget only soared. Many people living in Paris during the time felt that Haussmann and crew had lied to them about the costs of the renovations and felt that the city had been paralyzed by the never ending construction. With the removal of Haussmann from his office as prefect of the Seine in 1870, the Third Republic took control of the government and the debts that Napoleon and Haussmann had gotten the city into.

Since the undertaking of the modernization of Paris in the 1850’s, Haussmann’s name has become ubiquitous with urban planning. With the help and approval of Napoleon III, Haussmann was able to transform an entire city in a period of twenty years. The once Medieval city was now a modern power house with room to grow. The redistricting of the city, building of new roads, monuments, public spaces and places, as well as new public works buildings and a new sewer system all added to the grandeur of the city. Haussmann not only improved the appearance of Paris, but also the health of the people. By widening the streets and building more housing, he eased the overcrowding and lowered the threat of disease. The new sewer system also helped create a cleaner Paris by channeling the waste water and human waste away from the city to ease on the smell and the dirt that would make Paris seem uncivilized. Haussmann’s new buildings proved to be more functional and stronger than the previous buildings in Paris. Georges Haussmann has become known as one of the first great urban planners in history and has inspired many others to take on such arduous tasks as rebuilding a preexisting city. And yet Haussmann’s greatest success was leaving us with a legacy known as Paris.

Works Cited
Gandy, Matthew. "The Paris Sewers and the Rationalization of Urban Space." Transactions of the Institute of British Geographers 24, , no. 1 (1999): 23-44.

Jordan, David P. "Haussmann and Haussmanisation: The Legacy for Paris." French Historical Studies 27 , no. 1 (Winter 2004): 87-113.

Pickney, David H. “Money and Politics in the Rebuilding of Paris, 1860-1870,” The Journal of Economic History 17, no. 1 (March 1957): 45-61.

Sutcliffe, Anthony. Paris: An Architectural History. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1993.
Van Zanten, David. Building Paris. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1994.

Von Kalnein, Wend. Architecture in France in the Eighteenth Century . New Haven: Yale University Press, 1972.

Central Place Theory

The central places theory was conceived, primarily by W. Christaller and A. Lösch, in order to explain size and number of cities and their spacing in a territory. It relies on a definition of city that considers it essentially as a distribution centre of goods and services to a scattered population, and on optimisation principles (which take transport costs into account). This theory stands on the limit between geography and spatial economy, and may be claimed by both disciplines. The theory is basically formalised in a static way, several derived models are proposed which represent equilibrium states, but its authors have suggested tracks that should allow making it evolve.
The theory is based on a distinction between centres, which are the seats of a supply of goods and services, and peripheries (regions complementing the centre) where demand, i.e. population using them, resides. The notion of centrality justifies clustering in a same place production of services of same level and of same range intended at the population which is scattered in the complementary region (or influence area), whose customers are polarised by the centre. The centres are indeed hierarchised, due to the existence of several levels of services defined by their spatial ranges (distance that the consumer is willing to travel in order to acquire the service, defined by the additional transport cost which can be afforded when buying the product) and by emergence thresholds (fixed by the volume of customers needed for the service supply to be profitable). Frequently used and cheap services are offered in numerous small centres located close to consumers, while those less frequently used are located in cities that are larger, but also more distant. According to versions of the theory, influence areas of centres fit inside each other (for Christaller), because centres of upper level generally provide all services of lower level, or more or less apart from each other (for Lösch). The hypothesis of rational behaviour of consumers, which visit the closest centre, and competition between centres that share the customers have as consequence that cities are regularly spaced, and hierarchy of services levels is translated into a smaller number and a wider spacing of cities when moving upward in urban hierarchy.
Quite numerous observations carried on in various areas of the world have shown how useful the theory is to understand spatial organisation of most services to resident population. The theory gives well enough account of differentiation of urban networks at middle levels scales, in relatively homogeneous regions. The hierarchy of urban centres fits in large part with a hierarchy of levels of services they concentrate, organised by frequency of use, amplitude of their spatial range and size of their thresholds of emergence. The theory has been used by spatial planning, notably to implement settlement of the polders in the Netherlands, or also to justify policy of “métropoles d’équilibre” in France. It is also used as reference model by archaeologists studying ancient settlement systems. On the other side, the theory hardly allows to predict distribution of retail and services in declining rural areas, where local factors encouraging a persistent location play a more prominent role than effects of additional cost of distance, or also in an urban environment where time accessibility takes a much stronger importance than physical distance and generates configurations that are much more complex than Christaller models.
Several critics are formulated against the central places theory. Some of them question theory hypotheses :
the closest centre choice is not systematically practiced by the consumer. It has been demonstrated that, in a rather densely populated area (in the Netherlands and probably more generally in an urban environment), around 40 pc of the purchase power is spent at the occasion of « travels with multiple purposes », i.e. in places where the consumer makes at the same time provision of goods and services of lower level in an upper level centre, thus compensating a longer average distance by benefit of a more diversified supply of services. This way of doing tends to by-pass smaller centres and to increase size of the larger ones, and thus generates a stronger hierarchising of centres than is predicted by the theory.
Regular hexagonal spatial models as proposed by Christaller are invalidated from the start, as their configuration relies on hypothesis of a uniform distribution of population to cover, an hypothesis in contradiction with the existence of centres, which necessarily induce strong centre-periphery gradients in terms of population density for example. Configurations that would take this fact into account have been simulated, but geometric or analytical models could not be demonstrated yet.
The central places theory is an incomplete explanation of the hierarchised organisation of urban systems. It is based on a form of spatial organisation of production of goods and services that is strongly conditioned by the requirement of proximity between the producer and its customers, be it because of a marked sensitiveness to transport costs (craft bakery, post office) either because product is perishable (slaughterhouses, market gardening and milk production belts around cities before diffusion of frigorific transport), either because of nature of the provided service (hairdresser, doctor). Industrial production replacing craft has loosened these links, and location and size of cities born during the Industrial revolution (mine cities, steel cities, textile cities or chemical plants) do not follow the logic of central places (even if the latter plays a role in a later stage, because presence of a population to serve has for effect that services are established in proportion: for example a University had to be created in Valenciennes). Other urban functions such as defence or harbour functions also escape the frame of central places theory. One can imagine that an economic transformation of production and distribution that would completely suppress the link of proximity between producer and customer would make the central places theory totally obsolete, and would turn it into a merely temporary explanation of organisation of urban systems, linked to a moment in their development history where distance played a fundamental role in the spatial organisation of urban activities.
The theory nonetheless maintains its strength, as numerous activities (for example business services, high technology) locate in function of the presence of urban services, and strengthen correlation between level of those services and rank of cities in urban hierarchy, defined according to city population or to production weight. The explanation then changes its focus and calls for integration of the central places theory in a more general theory that could be an evolutionary theory of urban systems.