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What is This?
CHARLES T. GOODSELL
Virginia Tech
The term public space has multiple meanings depending on the scholarly discipline. One aim of this arti-
cle is to develop a unified concept of public space that draws on varied pertinent literatures, while at the
same time expanding the idea’s coverage to incorporate the impacts of television and information tech-
nology. A second objective is to utilize the concept to explore empirically the practical possibilities for
making public space more democratic, using for this purpose several photographs of actual public
spaces.
Keywords: public space; public sphere; civic space; urban space; public architecture
The term public space is frequently used in academic writing, but its meanings
are diverse. Authors in different disciplines employ the term quite differently. The
most striking contrast is between those who refer to it as the social realm of unfet-
tered discourse on matters of public concern and those who conceive of it as a phys-
ical, public place, such as a town square or urban plaza. At the same time, consid-
erable commonality is found in these uses, suggesting that the term is amenable to a
more clarified definition. The features in common are the openness of public space,
its importance to democratic life, and perceptions of its degeneration under condi-
tions of modernity.
In this article I seek to expand the academic value of the public space concept by
proposing a unified concept of public space that combines concern for its social and
political implications with features of its design. I then amplify this concept to
incorporate the phenomenon of media broadcasting from public space and the
emergence of information technologies that transform it. The revised concept is
then used to explore the ways and extent to which actual public spaces are or are not
democratic. This is accomplished by means of assessment standards derived from
the unified definition. These, in turn, are applied to nine photographs I have taken
over the years that illustrate various contrasting physical settings. An underlying
premise of the analysis is that although some public spaces in America run counter
to the democratic ideal, others display positive features that should be encouraged.
In short, the degeneration of public space is not seen as inevitable.
sense of community identity and urban well-being. Several values are seen as
served: allowing residents to escape the stress and hubbub of city life; promoting
connectedness among citizens and groups; helping to create a sense of community
identity; and furnishing a site for political dialogue and protest. A leading text on
the subject describes public space as “the stage upon which the drama of communal
life unfolds.” Such places are seen as a social binder for current residents and a con-
nector to the past through accumulated personal memories and showcased histori-
cal monuments (Carr, Francis, Rivlin, & Stone, 1992).
At the same time, most urban theorists concede that America is not a café society
like Europe in which citizens spend hours over coffee in an outdoor setting. Indeed,
a common concern in the field is that American urban plazas and similar places are
not sufficiently used, and urban designers ask themselves what can be done to cor-
rect the situation. Recommendations include making spaces more human scale,
tying them closer to commercial shops, incorporating suitable venues for concerts
and art shows, and having them seem physically safe (Marcus & Francis, 1998).
Another line of argument is that not much can be done to enliven center-city
spaces because of long-term trends in residential living. The great migration to the
suburbs causes downtown public spaces to be abandoned except for business
employees at noon and the homeless at night. Locomotion across the suburban
topography is not on foot but by automobile. The enclosed shopping mall replaces
the public plaza, placing consumption rather than community at the center of atten-
tion (Mattson, 1999). Alone this same line, Michael Walzer has argued that
whereas at one time Americans entered public spaces for multiple reasons includ-
ing people watching and just “being there,” now they go to such places only for pre-
planned, single-minded purposes, such as shopping, attending a concert, or con-
ducting personal transactions with government. This pattern undercuts the social
spontaneity of urban life, Walzer says, and also diminishes public space’s capacity
to educate the populace in civic deportment, such as becoming tolerant of cultural
and ethnic differences (Walzer, 1986).
Anthropologist Setha Low points out that the urban plaza is of value not only for
recreation, convenience, and community identification but also in the political
sense as well. Drawing on an ethnographic study of the plazas of San José, Costa
Rica, she concludes that vital urban public spaces are essential to the maintenance
of a participatory democracy. Diverse political agendas become embedded in them.
This means their design should be influenced by the people as well as the regime.
However, she says, government communicates implied political messages by
erecting barricades and removing undesirables. To allow antiregime messages, she
insists, the spaces should be completely open so as to serve as “one of the last demo-
cratic forums for dissent in a civil society” (Low, 2000, p. 240).
Thus much of the urban planning literature on public space presents, in effect, a
deterioration thesis of public space that is not unlike the decay seen by democratic
philosophers. Yet Michael Brill departs from this orthodoxy by deriding most writ-
ings on urban public space as a “literature of loss” infected with nostalgia and
A third major source of literature on public space is from the field of political
analysis of public architecture. In this work, a common theme is how the design and
symbols of physical space reinforce political power. Murray Edelman, for exam-
ple, points out how the sanctity of the White House Oval Office inspires awe in the
visitor’s mind and, for the moment at least, suppresses doubts over its current
incumbent. At a more prosaic level, government departments maintain front offices
and meeting rooms whose size and décor reinforce the impression of just authority.
Edelman contends that such effects go beyond interiors to exteriors. Fortress-like
buildings like the Pentagon and FBI headquarters in Washington present them-
selves as a reassurance to the public that the dangers of war, crime, and terrorism
will be overcome. The very monumentality of significant public buildings itself
exudes a sense of clarity, order, timelessness, and predictability with respect to the
authority of government. At the same time, the emotive significance of architecture
is subjective, Edelman points out. Spaces like legislative halls and courtrooms sym-
bolize legitimacy and equality to some but to others stand for state oppression or
elite domination (Edelman, 1995).
Thomas Markus offers a somewhat different analysis of the relationship of
buildings and power. In an examination of monasteries, courthouses, and concert
halls, he concedes that these structures confer power over the abbots, judges, and
conductors active there by means of alters, benches, and podia. At the same time,
however, these asymmetries are accompanied by equities, for example common
locker rooms and cafeterias. More important, the buildings house the organization
as a whole and thereby incorporate all its members in a universal way regardless of
individual status. Hence the structure itself provides a tangible symbol of the com-
mon bond of membership (Markus, 1993).
In my own study of another building type, the American state capitol, I similarly
noted that prominent public buildings can exude exalted state power before the
humble citizen and enable that citizen to identify emotionally with his or her own
state. In other dualities, the statehouse is at the same time an imposing and open
courtrooms, and outer offices of executives. This literature also examines the exte-
rior facades and settings of government buildings as potent image-producing edi-
fices accompanied by monuments and other devices of enhancement.
Turning to the central focus of inquiry in the three literatures, for the philoso-
phers of democracy the principal subject of interest is public discourse. This may be
summarized as unimpaired discussion about matters of collective concern and on
behalf of the public good. All ideas are game, all agendas are accepted, and all inter-
ested parties may participate. The nature of the discourse ranges from personal con-
versations to informal discussion to formal debate. Active participation in public
discourse lies at the heart of citizenship and hence is of sacred import in the array of
democratic values. Although some democratic theorists insist that public discourse
remain uncontaminated by a state presence, others see state involvement as poten-
tially legitimate, for example in policy debates between parties and candidates and
in legislative deliberation over statutes.
For urban theorists, the focal idea regarding public space is its potential contri-
bution to the quality of urban life. Plazas, parks, and commons are places where
crowded city dwellers can linger, escape stress, come together in close interaction,
enjoy an aesthetic experience, and engage the city’s symbolic essence. The sym-
bolic importance of urban public places is demonstrated by how pictures of them
are often found in public relations brochures. Such places constitute physical state-
ments of community pride and self-identification.
To political scientists studying the public spaces of architecture, the central
focus is their social meaning. That is to say, scholars seek to interpret the societal
significance of the built political environment. This environment expresses embed-
ded historical or regime values, affects the conduct of contemporary users, and
projects images for consumption by passing viewers. These meanings are, how-
ever, difficult to decipher, in that they change over time, are the subjective conse-
quence of human perception, and are difficult to measure. For the most part, con-
clusions must be based on empirical observation, informant reports, and reasoned
speculation. They may also in some instances be tied to cross-cultural evidence
related to such spatial specifics as visual centrality, superior height, and intervening
barriers.
The third category of cross-cutting analysis among the literatures is the primary
issues confronted. In political philosophy, the key issue for Arendt regarding public
space is alienation of the individual from the public world. The forces of modernity
are seen as having drawn people away from active participation in public space,
thus undermining if not destroying the citizen role. To regain active involvement in
the public sphere, Arendt says, the individual must reappear in the sphere of
appearances and engage the common world.
As mentioned, a key issue for public discourse is whether it can, under certain
circumstances, be sponsored by the state. Many democratic theorists would regard
such sponsorship as antithetical to the core idea of uninhibited conversation. Offi-
cial rhetoric and parliamentary deliberation are seen as contrived, artificial,
stacked, and confined to the received worldview. Others, such as Habermas, would
accept such debate as potentially within the realm of the public sphere if it meets
certain standards, such as relative openness.
As for issues of public space for the urban planners, paramount in their view is
the perceived loss of well-used urban public places at downtown centers. One pos-
sible answer is to attempt to revive the downtown urban space of old. This would be
done through a combination of physical redesign and the construction of new
spaces that incorporate an integrated cluster of commercial and entertainment facil-
ities. A more drastic answer is to replace urban physical space with cyberspace.
Castells (2000) tells us this is now fast occurring, as the territorial city is trans-
formed into an information city. His “space of flows” is limited not to e-mail and
Internet chat rooms but could also include cell phones, instant messaging, facsimile
transmission, teleconferencing, computer conferencing, and a variety of other
technologies.
In the literature on political interpretation of public architecture, the most promi-
nent issues raised center on political power. Studies emphasizing that places such as
the White House or Pentagon inspire awe conclude that a primary function of pub-
lic space is to intimidate the populace. In addition to monumentality and ornate-
ness, this is accomplished by placement techniques of centrality, elevation, and bar-
rier that raise the status of the powerful and segregate them from the mass. This
practice sheds pessimistic light on aspirations for democracy. Just as discourse
theory visualizes a deterioration of citizenship and the urban planning literature
mourns the weakening of community, analyses of public architecture tend to
perceive a dark, antidemocratic side to the public structures of a supposedly free
society.
A somewhat different interpretation is that great public buildings and their grand
public interiors also satisfy the citizens’ urge to be proud of the civic polities to
which they identify. This can be translated into appreciation if not admiration of
grand symbols of civic identity. Indeed, a common pattern at major symbolic edi-
fices such as the Statue of Liberty and Washington Monument is that they are vis-
ited daily by hoards of citizens.
I now develop a unified concept of public space. In so doing I draw from the
three literatures described but, by necessity, chart some new ground. A number of
new definitions of public space are proposed, and they are given in Table 2.
A good place to begin is the basic meaning of the term. Democratic theorists
conceive of public space as a social, not physical, realm of action and communica-
tion. Urban planners visualize it as largely exterior places in the cityscape, with
cyberspace an added possible form. Political scientists who interpret architecture
think of public (or civic) space in terms of the facades and interiors of public
buildings.
Generic definition of public space: A space-time continuum for connected and interactive political
discourse.
Place-bound public space: The above consisting of face-to-face interaction in a single physical
location.
Electronic public space: The above achieved at dispersed geographic locations through information
technology.
Extended public space: The above when broadcast by television, radio, Internet, or other means.
Pure definition of democratic public space: The above when open to all, unrestricted as to conduct,
and unconditional as to participation.
Practical definition of democratic public space: The above when public access is encouraged, the
status of state authority is muted, barriers between governors and governed are minimized, staging
is arranged by the people as well as officials, and conditions conducive to deliberation are
fostered.
breadth of scope can have its advantages, to be useful for theory and research a uni-
fied concept needs reasonably sharp focus.
Increasingly, discourse that occurs in place-bound public space is broadcast for
external consumption by television or radio coverage. The proceedings of elec-
tronic public space can be transmitted to a wider audience as well. Public broad-
casting alters importantly the nature of the space-time continuum. The space is, in
effect, extended to an adjunct audience that can see or hear but not participate. This
fact becomes known to those within the public space, causing them to speak or act
with the outsiders in mind. As a consequence, those engaged in the discourse may
have their attention drawn from the business at hand to the imagined perceptions of
the external audience. Hence the reach of public space is greatly extended but at the
same time its nature is changed. I call this variant of the concept extended public
space.
In abstract terms, a pure definition of democratic public space—if we abide by
the precepts of the democratic theorists and urban planners—would be: open to all,
unrestricted in character, and unconditional as to participation. In short, it can be
entered by any person, and those present can conduct themselves as they wish.
Practicalities will inevitably interfere to complicate this absolute, however. With
respect to place-bound public space, it may not be possible to get a room or plaza
big enough to accommodate everyone. This physical limit is theoretically over-
come in electronic public space, but even here problems may arise from inadequate
notification or unknown addresses. As for allowing unqualified conduct within
public space, any intelligible discourse would seemingly require some moderator
role, some agenda formation, and ways to allocate speaking time fairly. A truly
deliberative discourse, in which participants focus on a common problem and hon-
estly exchange opinions and stand ready to learn as the dialogue flows, will in prac-
tice require conscious encouragement.
So, what in practical terms must a definition of “democratic” public space
entail? One aspect is to come to terms with the state’s association to public space.
As we have seen, this is a contentious issue in the philosophical literature. A large
portion, probably most, of public space as hereby defined is privately organized and
conducted. Its degree of democratic manifestation can and should be normatively
assessed. At the same time, the democratic quality of state-associated public space
is obviously critical. Indeed, because of the state’s unique authority and capacity to
translate discourse into policy, the issues it raises with respect to democracy are
crucial.
One question is whether government itself will own or control the public space,
either place bound or electronic. Clearly, this arrangement privileges those in
authority. The state is in a position to promote constructions of public space that
accentuate its power, a major point made in political interpretation of architecture.
This can be achieved by theatrical staging in place-bound spaces or manipulation of
the “leader” function in computer or teleconference programs. It should be quickly
added, however, that it is conceivable that representatives of the state who are con-
sciously committed to a democratic ethos may wish to do the opposite, that is
The first example, shown in Figure 1, is the executive cabinet room of the state
government of Florida. It is located on the executive floor of the state capitol in Tal-
lahassee. The room is not open in the Habermasian sense. Although anyone can
enter the space on passing a security check, public access to it is not encouraged.
The room is small and can accommodate only a limited number of visitors. The low
chamber. Architect Bennie M. Gonzales intended the atrium to suggest a kiva, the
partially underground chamber used for centuries by the Pueblo Indians for elder
deliberations (Goodsell, 1988). Thus this all-purpose room is (in addition to the
headquarters of the city bureaucracy) the community’s principal space for public
discourse. Hence the politics-administration dichotomy is erased in a spatial sense.
Figure 3 is Boston City Hall, located on a large brick plaza in the Government
Center area at the heart of the city. Its construction was completed in 1969, as part of
an urban renewal project intended to eliminate Scollay Square, considered a disrep-
utable locale for bars and brothels. Although the building itself was designed by a
trio of then-unknown architects, the paved plaza on which it rests was created by the
famous I. M. Pei. It is said his model for the project was the shell-shaped Piazza del
Campo in Siena, Italy, which is ringed by busy cafés and attracts thousands of tour-
ists in the summertime (Carr et al., 1992).
Unfortunately, Pei’s Boston plaza did not work out. With no cafés or shops
nearby, it is deserted at night and on weekends. Its main purpose is to highlight the
overbearing, top-heavy structure of city hall. The building’s upper two floors, used
for administrative offices, jut outward to form a crown of projecting, relatively
small apertures. At the next level below is a more perforated political level of may-
oral offices and council chamber. The voluminous, open space situated below is
beyond human scale and dominated by the stark massiveness overhead. Entering
this covered court to transact business on the floors above is like being thrust into
the bowls of a civic fortress. I do not know if this space is used for protest meetings,
but if so the demonstrators would feel oppressed by the weight of authority
Figure 3 The Boston City Hall and Surrounding Plaza Designed by I. M. Pei
hallway in which they are gathered is the axial corridor for the building’s first floor,
which means they are situated on a busy and visible pedestrian avenue.
The purpose of the Ohio statehouse gathering is not to attract the attention of
passersby, but the lens of the television camera. Being staged is what we call
extended public space. The leader of the group is being televised as he presents the
group’s message. Presumably experienced in media politics, he stands before a jut-
ting marble pilaster to achieve theatrical focus. When in range of the camera, por-
traits of past governors hanging on the wall behind add gravity to the scene. The
young demonstrators grouped around convey numerical strength to the television
audience and impart an identification with the young. All participants carry the
same sign with its simple wording and ominous symbol, enriching further the tele-
vision picture. Although done by the people and not the authorities, this staging was
skillfully executed.
Figure 6 portrays extended public space staged by the political establishment.
The location is a legislative committee room in the Connecticut legislature’s office
building in Hartford. As with the Florida cabinet room, it is windowless and has a
closed feeling. The space is dominated by a circular committee bench, whose func-
tion is to separate, identify, and dignify committee members when the room is
being used for hearings. The bench’s fine woods imply the ample resources of offi-
cial power. At the moment shown, no hearings are scheduled, and the room is dou-
bling as a television studio, an arrangement normally unavailable to citizen lobbies.
The Connecticut scene no doubt looks good on television. The lighting and cam-
eras are professional. The formally attired speaker stands before a raised lectern
festooned with microphones. Colleagues and aides grouped around the perimeter
of the bench show establishment support. A theatrical focus is subtly completed by
the state seal on the wall behind. For the moment this chamber (constructed specifi-
cally for interactive deliberation on public policy) is a setting for one-way external
mass communication.
The next scene, Figure 7, shows the Hall of Representatives in the New Hamp-
shire statehouse in Concord. In this instance, a public space built for making policy
is being used for its intended purpose. Yet the hall’s characteristics are more like
that of an auditorium than legislative chamber. The reason is the unusual size of the
New Hampshire lower house, which at 400 constitutes the biggest state legislative
body in the country. As its membership grew over the decades, the room had to be
expanded twice. These citizen solons—whose numbers in relation to residents is a
ratio of less than 1:3,000—meet every second year and proudly earn only $200 per
biennium, a figure unchanged since 1889 (Goodsell, 2001).
Because of the body’s size in relation to its space, the New Hampshire hall does
not provide conditions conducive to independent and interactive deliberation.
Members are jammed together such that unless located on aisles they cannot leave
their seats to address the body or confer with colleagues. They possess no individ-
ual standing from a furniture standpoint, not even a swinging leaf attached to their
chair on which to write. In that the seats are unassigned, a fixed plate identifying
their name and district is impossible. Moreover, seating is not by political party,
hence partisan conduct is discouraged. In short, the room fosters planned presenta-
tions from the rostrum rather than independent action or partisan debate.
A sharply contrasting example of legislative space is pictured in Figure 8. It is
a photograph of the Michigan senate in session in its chamber in the capitol in
Lansing. The body has only 38 members, permitting a more generous use of floor
space than in New Hampshire. There is sufficient room for lots of furniture. Dis-
tances between the pieces of furniture and a flat floor permit members to walk
around freely and to confer with colleagues. The room’s configuration is essen-
tially square, meaning that despite its large size no desks are relegated to a remote
backbench area. As is customary in state legislative chambers, the desks are
arranged in a shallow arc facing the rostrum, creating a convergence of sight lines
on the speaker.
The Michigan accommodations promote the independent importance and
standing of each senator. Desks and chairs are permanently assigned, with a name-
plate designating the senator. More than simple pieces of furniture, each ensemble
incorporates a computer and communication console as well as aide’s chair. Mem-
bers’ chairs swivel, allowing senators to watch each other in all directions around
the room. They address the body directly from their seats as well as from the ros-
trum, encouraging a spontaneous flow of deliberation. Democrats sit on the right
side of the aisle (presider’s perspective) and Republicans on the left, thereby pro-
moting party consciousness.
The final photograph, Figure 9, is of the city council chamber in Santa Rosa,
California. The council meets in a sunken, circular space 50 feet in diameter cen-
tered in a square council building 60 feet on each side. From a symbolism stand-
point, this floor plan achieves the basic configuration of the mandala, considered in
many Eastern religions as a representation of the cosmos. Council members sit at a
concave dais, as do the administrators across from them. Hence, furniture-wise,
both groups are depicted as corporate bodies. Their matching tables and common
elevation portray them as equivalent in status.
A noteworthy feature of the Santa Rosa chamber is its treatment of citizens. In
the New Hampshire Hall of Representatives, members of the public were seated
upstairs in a rear balcony, similar to a theater. In the Michigan senate, they sat in an
upstairs gallery embracing three sides of the room. These locations, separated from
the legislative floor, signify a passive observer role for citizens. In Santa Rosa, by
contrast, visitors are seated in what might be described as a half-circle amphithe-
ater, raked at 25 degrees. That puts them at about the same level of the officials and
within the mandala’s circle. Overflow crowds, as shown in the photograph, are per-
mitted along the sides and backs of the mandala’s square, but not directly behind
council members. The concave dais and half-circle amphitheater together form a
rough circle, united in the same symbolic cosmos (Goodsell: 1988).
In this article I have argued that a unified concept of public space, drawn from
the literatures of political philosophy, urban planning, and architectural interpreta-
tion, can be used to create a coherent and usable theoretical vehicle. I further con-
tend that such a concept can be cast in such a way as to incorporate two upheavals
experienced by public space, the television revolution of the 20th century and the
information revolution of the 21st century. One revision is to recognize the pres-
ence of a massive television audience of millions that observes but does not partici-
pate. The other is to conceive of public space as not just unitary physical space but
also sets of dispersed electronic connections, made possible by information tech-
nology. The generic notion of space-time continuum permits us to take both of
these steps without losing the concept’s analytic power.
The normative theme of the article is the need to democratize public space to the
extent possible. The impetus for this is not cynicism about the establishment or fear
of an authoritarian state, but a recognition that the state is in a position to dominate
public discourse if conscious counter-efforts are not made. Although the settings of
public space—whether place bound or electronic—will not in the long run deter-
mine the vitality of our democratic discourse, they can set in motion constructive
influences. This potential, if realized, backs away from the pessimism found in
much of the literature on public space, according to which its democratic value has
irretrievably degenerated.
Effective efforts in this direction must, however, go beyond abstract principles,
such as total openness and lack of restriction. In addition, they must accept the
state’s participation in, although not monopoly of, public space. The normative
objective then becomes to achieve feasible operational goals for a democratic pub-
lic space. These include an encouragement of access, a muting of authority, a min-
imization of barriers, unofficial as well as official staging, and an attempt to create
conditions favorable to deliberation.
Exploring the possibilities, complexities, and subtleties involved in applying
these goals cannot be done in an empirical vacuum. Concrete manifestations must
be employed to comprehend the range of issues and to stimulate thought. In this
article, I begin such a process by studying photographs of building interiors, out-
door plazas, television stages, and legislative chambers.
What was found in these examples? Four of them, namely the Florida cabinet
room, Boston City Hall, the Connecticut committee room and the New Hampshire
statehouse, have much to be desired from a democratic standpoint. The first is
closed and controlling, the second overbearing and oppressive, the third contrived
and establishment-oriented, and the fourth presumably egalitarian but in reality
manipulative.
However, the remaining five examples hold out promise for reasonable attain-
ment of democratic public space, and it is from them that we can take some
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Charles T. Goodsell is emeritus professor of public administration at the Center for Public
Administration and Policy of Virginia Tech in Blacksburg. In addition to several works in public
administration and political economy, he has authored two books (see references) and several
articles on social and political aspects of public architecture. In recent years, his photographs
have appeared on the covers of the Journal of Public Administration Research and Theory and
the Journal of Public Affairs Education. He received the Dwight Waldo Award for his contribu-
tions to the literature in public administration in 2003.