Housing Studies

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Postmodernism and housing: A guide to design

theory

Barry Goodchild

To cite this article: Barry Goodchild (1991) Postmodernism and housing: A guide to design theory,
Housing Studies, 6:2, 131-144, DOI: 10.1080/02673039108720702

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Published online: 12 Apr 2007.

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 Housing Studies V0I6N0 2ppl31-144

Postmodernism and
Housing: A Guide to
Design Theory
Barry Goodchild
Abstract
Postmodernism is open-ended about the future; it describes a historical condition rather
than a political ideology. It is neither necessarily individualistic nor collectivistic, neither
progressive nor reactionary. Though the postmodern condition in housing is related to
trends towards market segmentation in house building and towards more social diversity,
post-modernism deals mainly with cultural processes. Postmodernism emphasises the
importance of meaning in the built environment. It clarifies the meaning of the house as home
and is capable of generating visions of future cities - place Utopias - but it cannot provide an
adequate analysis of how environmental aims might be achieved or plans implemented.

The related ideas of postmodernism and of
postmodemity have a curious history. The
term 'postmodern' originated in the early
1970s in separate discussions of trends in liter-
ature and architecture, including in the latter
case discussions of housing design. Later in
the 1970s, postmodernism was taken up in
social philosophy as a description of contem-
porary culture and politics. Discussion of
'postmodernism', considered as a cultural
movement, became displaced by discussion
of the 'postmodern condition' and of 'post-
modernity1. Thereafter the postmodern debate
entered discussions of housing policy (as
opposed to housing design) and mainstream
town planning. At the same time, the value
implications changed. In the 1970s postmod-
ernism was presented by its supporters as a
movement for artistic and architectural innova-
tion. In contrast, in the 1980s, postmodernism
has been mostly given a pejorative meaning
by critics of the status quo.
The broadening of the postmodern debate
has advantages. It has clarified the historical
dimension of postmodernism and has helped
to distinguish the key ways in which housing
design and town planning in the 1980s differ
from that in earlier decades. It has enabled a
bringing together of a variety of recent trends,
many of which were not previously consid-
ered 'postmodern1. It is, for instance, possible
now to talk about the lack of direction in archi-
tectural style, the increasing market segmen-
tation in private house building, the prefer-
ence for small-scale, community-based sol-
utions in town planning as 'postmodern' in
terms of a series of common assumptions,
even though only the architectural innovations
were explicitly considered 'postmodern' in the
1970s. There have also been unfortunate side
effects, however. The tendency in the 1980s
has been to treat postmodernism as a political
philosophy pure and simple, rather than, as
was the case in the 1970s, a cultural philoso-
phy with political implications. Furthermore,
the debate has become too extreme. Fash-
ionable, uncritical endorsement has been re-
placed by fashionable, hyper-critical rejection.
The significance of postmodernism is sel-
dom doubted, even by those who heartedly
dislike the term and everything they think it
implies. Postmodernism cannot be assessed in
abstract, however. It must be related to its
roots and to the history of ideas in housing
design and related aspects of town planning.
Views of the house and home
Postmodernism in design is usually equated
with style, with 'Post-Modernism' spelt accord-

131
Housing Studies Vol 6 No 2
ing to the architectural conventions with capital
letters and hyphenated into two words. It
should be noted from the outset, however, that
postmodernism is more than style and that
within the housing design literature another
relevant concept exists in the concept of per-
sonalisation. Stylistic Post-Modemism and per-
sonalisation share a concern with environ-
mental meaning (or with visual images or
non-verbal communication or architectural
language - the key words vary in different
accounts) and both express a distrust of stan-
dardised solutions. Consequently both share
the sense of cultural and visual diversity which
underlies discussions of 'postmodern', spelt
accordingly, in social philosophy. The differ-
ence is that, whereas personalisation starts
with the viewpoint of the user and allows a defi-
nition of meaning which incorporates function
and social activities, stylistic Post-Modemism
starts with the view of the architect, sees
meaning predominantly in terms of architec-
tural history and emphasises the importance of
form over and above function.
The dilemmas of architectural style
The debates about architectural style start in
the 1970s with a realisation that the industrial
aesthetic models which had always been used
by the modem movement to give an impres-
sion of technological progress are inappropri-
ate if applied generally in urban design and
that, in particular, they make no sense if
applied to housing. As McCormac (1978) ex-
plained at the time, housing is too deeply af-
fected by the separation of work and home
life, 'the former impersonal, disciplined and
insensate, the latter for most people an outlet
for personal fulfilment and aesthetic experi-
ence' (p204). In consequence any attempt
to make a residential area look like an indus-
trial estate was likely to provoke popular
hostility.
At the same time, public hostility to industri-
alised aesthetics was exacerbated by their
association with mass-produced, utilitarian
goods whose widespread presence and evi-
dent economy meant that they were easily
called 'cheap' or 'common'. The ideals of uni-
formity and mass production had been inade-
quate from the outset. The easing of housing
shortages from the end of the 1960s onwards
made the inadequacies increasingly apparent.
The dilemma of style was particularly acute
in British council (public) housing, ironically
(noted McCormac) because of the success of
132
the architectural profession in imposing a style
which had never prevailed in dwellings built
for sale. Rented housing and modem architec-
ture 'were almost synonymous in the public
mind' and the aesthetic of economy had come
to signify public tenancy with all its social
problems. The devaluation of Modernism was
not simply dependent on the declining for-
tunes of public housing, however. Even within
the public sector housing stock, the use of
industrial architectural styles tended to result
in dwellings that were less popular than those
with a more traditional appearance. Moreover,
the unpopularity of industrialised styles was
not simply a product of the association be-
tween the modem movement and high flats.
Unconventional, industrialised low rise hous-
ing also tended to be less popular.
There was another problem, not mentioned
by McCormac. Modernism tends, by its very
nature, to stress change and innovation. In
contrast, the existence of a home is defined, in
part, by a sense of permanence and an
absence of change. The home is the world of
the familiar, a place of memories and of senti-
mental attachment (Dovey, 1977).
The abandonment of modernist aesthetic
models resulted, from the 1970s onwards, in
a fragmentation of architectural style. Jencks
(1984; 1986), generally regarded as the lead-
ing 'theorist' of stylistic Post-Modemism, dis-
tinguishes between six basic strands, mostly
with obscure names such as 'historicism1 and
'metaphor metaphysical', all of which, he ar-
gues, share a double visual message, one for
discerning architects and another for the pub-
lic. Jencks argues that the eclectic use of his-
torical elements, often derived from Clas-
sical sources, simultaneously enables better
visual communication and permits the ac-
ceptance of a greater cultural and aesthetic
pluralism. In fact, as Ghirardo (1984-85, pi88)
has argued, the question of meaning in visual
communication is not addressed in Jencks'
work. The assumption that historical refer-
ences are readily understood and appreciated
by the public is no more than an act of faith, at
best a working hypothesis.
The possibility that Post-Modemism might
fail in its task of visual communication can be
tested by asking the views of non-architects. In
a memorable study, Groat and Canter (1979)
used a photographic sorting process to exam-
ine how 30 accountants perceived the mean-
ing of buildings identified as significant in the
leading architectural journals. Accountants

were selected as a lay group since they
matched the social background of the archi-
tects. Nevertheless, their views hardly sup-
ported the case for stylistic Post-Modemism.
Buildings which were classified as Post-
Modem in the architectural literature did
indeed evoke a stronger, more particular
meaning than those designed in a Modem
style. But the accountants did not generally
find the Post-Modem buildings more attrac-
tive. Moreover, the meaning of the Post-
Modem buildings were not necessarily the
ones intended by the architects. In some cases
the perceived meanings were plainly contra-
dictory of the original intent, much in the same
way as the critics had previously claimed of
Modernism. For instance, an old people's
home designed by the American architect
Venturi was repeatedly mistaken for a home
for transients or as a motel.
Groat and Canter's conclusions remain the
best assessment of stylistic Post-Modemism.
The strength of Post-Modemism, they argued,
was to encourage an exploration of the mean-
ings and associations in the built environment.
But continued experimentation in architectural
form was not enough. More attention had to be
paid to bringing architects, users and others
together in an interactive process which modi-
fies initial preconceptions. While Groat and
Canter do not use the word, they clearly anti-
cipate the arguments of the community archi-
tecture movement and of others who advocate
more participation in and public control over
design.
In the 1980s the debate about styles has
become more polarised in Britain. On one
hand, Charles, Prince of Wales (1989) has
entered the debate and has supported calls
for a greater emphasis on tradition in urban
design and on small-scale schemes which fit in
with their surroundings and receive the sup-
port of the local community. On the other
hand, Modernism has enjoyed a revival in the
form of the 'hi-tec' style favoured in industrial
estates and prestige office buildings. Ac-
cording to Klotz (1989. p34), a new style of 'de-
construction' has emerged and this 'has over-
come the Post-Modemist predilection for his-
torical references, making it superfluous to fall
back on the past'. The new style, which is
more about emphasising aesthetic tensions
and contradictions, it is said, has the potential
to create a 'Second Modernism' rather than
Post-Modemism.
Despite the existence of new stylistic ten-
Postmodernism and Housing
dencies, the assumptions remain much as they
were in the 1970s. The design debates share
the same sense of splintering and fragmenta-
tion. In addition, they raise the same unre-
solved conflict between those who argue for
formal experimentation over and above popu-
lar preferences and those who argue for the
reverse. Indeed, in some ways, the debate
about architectural style is going backwards in
terms of social awareness. At least, the double
coding of the Post-Modemism of the 1970s
and the early 1980s made reference to public
perception and said something about the
meaning of the house as a home. The most
recent stylistic innovations, the so-called
'Second Modernism', are wholly inward look-
ing to the architectural profession and say
nothing about housing.
Personalisation and the end of mass
production
Just as much stylistic Post-Modemism is a
rejection of machine aesthetics, so personalis-
ation theory is a rejection of 'mass housing'.
For a dwelling to acquire meaning as a
'home', it has to be personalised; it has to
receive the stamp of an individual and his or
her identity; and it has to be positively valued
as a place to which a person feels some
attachment. Cooper Marcus and Sarkissian
(1986, p63) explain personalisation thus,
'Most people need, if not to design their
dwellings, at least to give them some
touch of uniqueness that says: "This is
mine; it is a reflection of me/my family;
and I/we are worthy and unique
beings.'"
Personalisation implies that the individual
has some form of control over the product, not
so much through involvement in collective
decision-making along the lines suggested by
the community architecture movement, but
in ensuring that each dwelling is tailor-made
to his or her circumstances. For Habraken
(1972), usually regarded as the first personalis-
ation theorist, the way forward was a new type
of standardisation, based on the standardisa-
tion of parts rather than the whole dwelling.
The modernist conception of standardisation
had sought to repeat standard dwelling types
and had resulted in cities in which people had
no sense of belonging and which they felt
powerless to shape, even at the level of their
immediate surroundings. Standardisation of
building elements, in contrast, would encour-
133
Housing Studies Vol 6 No 2
age more diversity. Social factors were also
likely to encourage more diversity, according
to Habraken. The average working class fami-
ly had ceased to exist. Life-styles did not fit
into a recognisable pattern and would certain-
ly not do so in the future.
In Britain, in private sector house building,
the trend towards more diversity in new build
is readily apparent. In the 1970s private house
builders concentrated on virtually only one
product, on three and four bedroom dwellings
on greenfield sites. Thereafter, private house
builders have adapted their output to an
increasingly segmented market. A succession
of new marketing concepts has been invented
- downmarket 'starter homes', upmarket
'executive' homes, retirement bungalows and
flats for old people and city centre flats
designed for mobile young professionals. The
result, as seen from the perspective of the
house building industry, is a greater volatility
of demand and a shorter time-scale in building
programmes (Lyall, 1983). Diversity of output
does not necessarily mean the provision of
more tailor-made housing, however. The
house builders are talking about shorter, more
flexible production runs of different dwelling
types, rather than the complete abandonment
of standardisation.
Why is this? One reason, especially impor-
tant at the lower end of the private market, is
that standardisation suits the working practices
of the building industry. Standardisation
makes cost estimation more predictable and
so encourages more competitive tendering. It
also makes fewer demands on the labour
force. In addition, even in middle and upper
price ranges, standardisation persists as a
marketing aid which enables publicity materi-
al to focus on a limited number of images. If a
product sells well and makes sufficient profits,
private developers argue, there is no case for
change. In any case, it is sometimes suggest-
ed, the desire for individuality can be met by
offering a variety of fittings and finishes.
Further and most importantly, standardis-
ation in the private sector in Britain has been
favoured by the existence of high land prices
since this leads the volume house builders to
prefer, on grounds of profitability, higher den-
sity schemes of estate development than lower
density schemes of individual plot develop-
ment. Noble (1981) has compared housing
development in England to that in Denmark
and argues that the existence, in the latter
country, of controls on speculation in land and
134
house building ensures better value for
money in new housing (less of the purchase
price or rent is consumed in land charges)
and encourages owners to make individual
plots available to prospective house pur-
chasers. As a result, in comparison to Britain,
'individual preferences are realised with com-
parative ease and a diversity of houses can be
built in any one plot development'!.
The application of personalisation to the
public sector begs the question as to the
relation between design and life-style. Per-
sonalisation suggests that design should
consider the personal characteristics and life-
styles of likely users and, in doing this, it
suggests the existence of significant social dif-
ferences in environmental perception, both
between different members of a household
according to gender and age, and between
households according to such variables as
class and race.
In fact, social differences in the perception
of housing quality are difficult to demonstrate.
Surveys of housing satisfaction undertaken in
England by the Ministry of Housing and Local
Government and later by the Department of
the Environment have shown that household
type (conventionally classified into households
with children, childless adult households and
pensioner households) is a significant variable
and that households with children tend gener-
ally to be the most critical and pensioner
households the least critical. Otherwise social
differences in the perception of housing quali-
ty are significant mostly by their absence
(Department of the Environment, 1972; 1981).
In part, the lack of social differences can be
attributed to a tendency for satisfaction sur-
veys to adopt a 'positivLstic' research method-
ology in which the questionnaire schedule
includes virtually no questions on the respond-
ents' social background and previous housing
experience. However, a few surveys have
tested for social differences and these suggest
that while social differences exist jto an extent,
variations in the physical environment are
more important. The results of two, very differ-
ent surveys may be cited.
The first was undertaken by Britten (1977)
as part of an exercise to determine the public
perception of minimum standards. The survey
involved over 2,000 households living in
dwellings of varied quality throughout England
and Wales. The results, which were analysed
through the use of partial correlation coeffi-
cients, suggested that the overwhelming influ-

ence on the perception of minimum standards
was the respondent's previous housing expe-
rience and the amenities available at the time
of survey. Demographic and social variables,
gender included, had little influence.
The second was undertaken by Furbey and
Goodchild (1986) in four council estates in
Sheffield. The social composition of the sample
and the quality of the housing stock were
much more homogeneous than in Britten's sur-
vey and, as a result, new influences on per-
ception were revealed. Female council house
tenants were, on average, less satisfied with
the amount of floorspace in their home than
male respondents. But the difference in
response between male and female was not
great and it did not extend to differences in
either the willingness to pay for improvements
to the home or in the choice of priorities for
improvement. Again household type was the
main social influence on perception. Other-
wise satisfaction was more closely related to
the appearance of the external layout being
perceived as attractive.
A word of caution is necessary. The demon-
stration of differences in environmental per-
ception is notoriously sensitive to the type of
questions asked and to the characteristics of
the sample. Because social differences have
not yet been demonstrated does not mean that
none exist. The existence of ethnic differences
is particularly worthy of further study.
Nevertheless, the tendency for surveys to
emphasise the significance of physical rather
than socio-cultural factors suggests that the
best way to cope with life-style diversity is
through the provision of design types which
facilitate adaptation and flexibility in use. This
is the basis of the call by Rapoport (1968) for
an open-ended approach to design. The ex-
erior is to maximise the number of elements
that can be painted or modified through do-it-
yourself activities; external spaces immediate-
ly around the home are to be surrounded by
fences which provide a clearly defined sense of
personal space; a clear distinction is to be made
between the front or public side and the back
or private side of a dwelling; internal floor-
space standards are to be sufficiently generous
to enable a wide range of leisure activities; the
size and shape of rooms is to be sufficiently
generous to enable different furniture arrange-
ments; finally the dwelling is to include a
sufficient number of rooms to accommodate
visitors and provide personal privacy.
The provision of a good quality house,
Postmodernism and Housing
designed in a way which promotes flexibility
of use, is a relatively simple, though expen-
sive, exercise. However, personalisation theo-
ry raises issues which go beyond design and
admit no easy answer other than a broad pol-
icy commitment to provide low-cost housing
of a type of which the occupants can be proud.
Personalisation implies the existence of
choice; it implies that people adapt the envi-
ronment to their uses by deciding where they
live as well as through making modifications
after they move in. Further, because personal-
isation theory draws attention to the idea of the
home as an expression of personal identity, it
emphasises the importance of measures to
counter the stigmatisation of residential areas.
Views of the city
(place Utopias)
The modernist conception of the city was as a
mental abstraction, an ideal city which was to
be created through the repetition of standard
house types and which was to be applied as
appropriate to a site. Abandonment of stan-
dardisation in housing design led inevitably to
a collapse of a unitary concept of the city. The
Death and Life of Great American Cities by
Jacobs (1965) is usually considered the first
major critique of modem town planning and it
identifies many themes which reoccur in the
later accounts, whether these accept or reject
the label postmodern - themes such as a pref-
erence for diversity in the built environment
rather than uniformity, for small-scale, commu-
nity-based rather than large-scale or structural
change and for mixed-use rather than single-
use urban zones. Later, a similar critique of
British town planning was advanced by Ravetz
(1980). British town planning, Ravetz argued,
had previously suffered from a crude 'clean
sweep approach'. A new style was necessary.
Town planning had to 'cope with the contra-
dictions' and it had to accept the apparent dis-
order of the modem city as potentially valu-
able to residents.
Abandonment of comprehensive town plan-
ning means that urban Utopias, conceived as
architectural blueprints, are now obsolete.
Utopian thinking does not disappear com-
pletely, however, as is sometimes suggested.
Instead, Utopias take the form of projections of
selected aspects of the present into the future,
to thinking about eutopia, to use a term once
coined by Patrick Geddes (1949, pp22-32) a
reliable 'good place'.
135
Housing Studies Vol 6 No 2
Two ideal types of 'good place' are conven-
tionally distinguished - a populist, mainly
American model which celebrates suburbia
and a traditionalist, mainly European model
which emphasises conservation and the main-
tenance of compact urban forms (Bruegmann,
1982). The distinction between American and
European models, though a necessary simpli-
fication, has to be treated with caution. Each is
best regarded as a distinct way of looking at
the modem city, a way which results in solu-
tions which are best suited to people with dif-
ferent life-styles and which apply to different
areas which exist in most cities in both the USA
and Europe. Moreover, though this is seldom
made explicit, it is possible to conceive of a
place Utopia which combines elements of both.
The American populist road to eutopia
starts with a very well known work, The Image
of the City, by Lynch (1960). The very use of
the word 'image' in the title marks a break
with the past. What does the city's physical
form actually mean to the people who live
there? asked Lynch. What can the planner
do to make the city's image more vivid and
memorable? To answer these questions
Lynch undertook questionnaire surveys of Los
Angeles, Boston and Jersey City and formulat-
ed a new criterion of imageability in urban
design. The image, argued Lynch (1972, p24),
enables people to locate themselves in urban
space, to construct a mental 'scaffold' to which
meanings are attached and which provides a
guide for movement.
The Image of the City is ambiguous in its
social implications. It has been interpreted by
Jameson (1984, p89) as demonstrating a sense
of social alienation. The fact that people can
often only prepare fragmented, apparently
impoverished road-based maps of their home
town, it is argued, suggests that modem urban
forms, especially the dispersed form of the
American city, are impoverished in meaning.
The reality is more complex. For the survey
results may also be interpreted as demon-
strating the strength of meaning in the modem
city. Whatever the degree of fragmentation,
the results show that people can prepare
maps. In any case, surveys in many countries
show mental maps whose form of construction
is similar to those of Lynch, even if the settle-
ment form is very different (see, for example,
the maps included in Goodchild, 1974 or
Canter, 1977, pp49-78). Fragmentation is
more plausibly explained as an inevitable
product of limited cognitive abilities, whilst the
136
dominance of roads is attributable to the ten-
dency of most people to prepare1 their mental
maps as a guide to movement.
If Image of the City was an attempt to define
the factors which influence imageability at a
macro-urban scale, Venturi, Scott Brown and
Izenour's Learning from has Vegas (1972) is
concerned with imageability at a I micro-scale.
Indeed they make explicit reference to
Lynch's research as a relevant precursor. Just
as much as American pop art (Warhol,
Iichtenstein) had led to a re-evaluation of
commercial products and popular culture in
the 1960s, so, Venturi et al argued, architec-
ture should re-evaluate the American urban
landscape and learn from the visual cues of
'ordinary' buildings. In the case of housing, the
architect should learn from the suburban
ideal, and from such features as sweeping
lawns and eclectic ornamental detail. Archi-
tects should not simply content themselves
with an analysis of the environment as it exists.
They also should learn from,
'the housing content of television com-
mercials, home journals, automobile
advertisements, New Yorker cartoons,
developers' blurbs, and mail order cata-
logs, because these mass media sources
attempt to reach their markets by using
I residential symbols that reflect current
social and personal aspirations' (Venturi,
1976).
To recommend that architects should learn
from the images produced by developers and
by the mass media suggests a celebration of
commercialised, material consumption and
nothing else. Venturi (1972, pi07) denies this.
He places himself on the side of those 'who
hope for a reallocation of national resources
toward social purposes' and he argues that the
main intention is to improve social architecture
and to show that this latter has to be based on
'modest buildings with symbolic appendages',
'from the everyday city around us'.
Suburbia does indeed meet user prefer-
ences better than many alternatives (Rapoport,
1982, ppl62-176). Low density suburbia
enables an expression of personalisation,
whether through the achievement of greater
diversity in dwelling form or through more
privacy around the dwelling. Furthermore,
suburbia is more likely to possess a sense of
spaciousness and greenery which surveys
have repeatedly shown to be appreciated in
Britain, just as much as in the USA. Suburbia is

often criticised as 'sprawl'. But this criticism is
usually overdone. Bishop (1986, ppl02-104)
has examined the public view of Milton
Keynes new town, a place which more than
anywhere else in Britain has been planned on
the model of American suburbia, and shown
that 'sprawl' is more in the eye of professional
designers than the public. Respondents to
Bishop's survey did not find the layout of
Milton Keynes confusing. They did not get lost.
They saw Milton Keynes as a series of 'vil-
lages' around a centre; they liked 'the spa-
cious feeling' of 'living in the country', but also
identified with their own area.
The suburban ideal still raises difficulties,
however. If suburbia is a scarce 'positional
good', as Hirsch (1977) believes, its use as a
model in social housing and town planning is
likely to prove self-defeating in the long term.
A positional good is one which remains attrac-
tive only so long as it is consumed by a minori-
ty. Mass consumption destroys the attractive-
ness of a positional good, either through
destroying the social exclusivity of expensive,
upmarket goods or, in the case of valued envi-
ronments, through destroying their physical
characteristics. Large scale suburban devel-
opment, for example, is likely to reduce the
attractiveness of any single suburban dwelling
through a loss of nearby countryside and
through causing more congestion.
The only way round the positional trap is to
envisage an ideal city in which housing
inequalities are tackled through measures to
reduce general consumption levels as well as
through more conventional measures intend-
ed to increase the consumption levels of the
poor. Restraining the consumption of the rich
is a familiar theme in the no-growth scenarios
of the Greens. It is also a theme in the place
Utopia described by Lynch in A Theory of
Good City Form (1981). Again, imageability is
encouraged. The environment is seen as 'a
celebration of place and time and process"
(Lynch, 1981, p313). Again, urban form is dis-
persed and low density and more American
than European. The difference compared to
either Image of the City or Learning from Las
Vegas is that the city is organised in a way
which either precludes or at least greatly
reduces economic growth. Land is held by
regional trusts whose main tasks are 'to con-
serve basic environmental resources, protect
the variety of species, and keep the environ-
ment open for future use' (Lynch, 1981, p296).
Limits are placed on the amount of land that
Postmodernism and Housing
may be leased by any individual or group.
Urban centres are largely abandoned and
'material consumption is no longer a sign of
prestige' (Lynch, 1981, p307).
European visions of the future are usually
associated with two architects, Aldo Rossi and
Leon Krier. Rossi's The Architecture of the City
(1982) is mainly an exercise in the classifica-
tion of building forms. The assumption is that
form is more important than function because
uses change over time whereas forms remain
constant. Likewise, in housing, it is argued,
dwelling types tend to persist even though life-
styles vary from one era to another. The
emphasis on the ability of a dwelling type to
support varied life-styles overlaps the
assumptions of personalisation theory. But
Rossi (1982) grossly overstates the argument.
'I tend to believe that housing types have
not changed from antiquity up to today,
but this is not to say that the actual way of
living has not changed, nor that new
ways of living are not always possible.'
(p41)
Rossi's typologies of form often make refer-
ence to politics and to patterns of land owner-
ship. For instance, Rossi attempts to distinguish
between socialist and capitalist dwelling types.
Cities are treated as 'historical texts' whose
landscape becomes part of the 'collective
memory' of a social group. The typologies of
building form tend towards description, how-
ever, and they make the crude assumption
that, because in the past a dwelling or other
building type has had a specific meaning, the
same meaning is likely to persist into the
future. 'Urban artifacts', Rossi (1982, plOl)
states, 'have their own life, their own destiny"
(italics in original). How this persistence of
meaning is to be squared with a change of
function or use, Rossi does not explain. In fact,
it is likely that if there are changes in function
or, in housing, changes in the life-styles of the
occupants, the meaning of a building is likely
to change as well.
The various confusions mean that Rossi's
ideas are exceptionally difficult to apply, ex-
cept through simple prescriptions for the pres-
ervation of historic monuments. If the in-
tention is to define the historical building
types that give a city a sense of place, one
way forward might be to use the typologies of
form in a collaborative exercise with local resi-
dents. Rossi states otherwise, however. The
Architecture of the City, he writes, is an attempt
137
Housing Studies Vol 6 No 2
to establish architecture as an 'autonomous'
discipline. Consequently, while the emphasis
on the city as a historical text anticipates the
existence of a critical public, the treatment of
building types as a timeless product of
autonomous architectural rules evokes profes-
sional megalomania and the type of stylistic
Post-Modemism which is interested in experi-
mentation as an end in itself. Rossi has quite
rightly been criticised by Harris and Lipman
(1986) as advocating a deeply unsatisfactory,
'patrician' approach to architecture.
Krier's proposals are more straightforward
and more easily applied. The modem city, it is
said, has lost any sense of human scale or inti-
macy; it appears 'fragmented and incomplete1
(Krier, 1984a). In order to repair the damage,
'classical' urban values have to be revived,
either through selective rebuilding or through
the careful design of extension schemes.
Urban roads are to be designed on pre-indus-
trial models to facilitate local pedestrian move-
ment rather than through traffic (Krier, 1984b).
Urban blocks are to be reduced in length and
width and are to form as many well defined
streets and squares as possible (Krier, 1984c).
Large cities are to be divided into a series
of clearly defined neighbourhoods (quarters)
containing a mixture of different land uses.
Zoning is to be avoided on the grounds that
it 'dissolves the infinitely complex fabric of
urban communities', imposes unnecessary
'totalitarian' technical rules on residents and
causes a huge waste of energy and time as
people are forced to travel to and from work
(Krier, 1984a, plO2).
Krier is based in London, though most of his
work, as evidenced from the illustrations in his
articles, is in continental Europe. His ideas are
clearly close to those of Prince Charles. For he
has acted as architect/planner for a suburban
extension scheme which has been proposed
by the Duchy of Cornwall at Dorchester in
Southern England.
Another source of traditionalist postmod-
ernism, though one which stems more from
town planning than architecture, may be
traced to the neovemacular or pseudovemac-
ular styles which were popular in England in
the 1970s. Pseudovemacular, whose design
principles are most clearly expressed in A
Design Guide for Residential Areas by Essex
County Council (1973), is based on a mixture
of modem and traditional elements. Much of
the detail is modem. The dwellings are larger
than 19th or 18th century labourers' cottages;
138
they usually have no chimneys; the window
frames are made of aluminium; a garage
stands at the front or the side. But the overall
appearance is traditional and is based closely
on an idealised model of the English village
and country town. The dwellings use local
building materials in roofs and external walls;
they possess steeply pitched roofs and are
arranged around reduced standard road lay-
outs which give a greater sense] of enclosure
than conventional suburban streets. The small
culs-de-sacs, 'Mews Courts', recommended
by the Essex Design Guide, did away with the
convention that each street should have foot-
paths of 2m on each side. In a Mews Court
pedestrians and motor traffic share the same
surface. This abandonment of footpaths, com-
bined with the use of tighter bends at road
junctions and elsewhere, enables the new
estates to mimic the narrow, twisting streets of
traditional villages and small towns.
The success of pseudovemacular, noted
Forty and Moss (1980), rested on its ability to
resolve conflicts in people's social experience.
In part, the new style helped resolve political
conflicts in the sense that its similarity with old
villages helped reduce residents' opposition
to new development and, at a time when plan-
ning authorities were still able to exercise
aesthetic controls on new housing, it helped
smooth the way for the granting of planning
permission. In addition and more j significantly,
pseudovemacular appealed to potential pur-
chasers through providing 'an image of instant
antiquity and all its associations, combined
with the comforts of modem life'. It suggested
'continuity with the past'. Forty and Moss treat-
ed the demand for nostalgia as J decadent. It
promoted 'the myth that society is stable and
unchanging1. Equally, however, and this is the
same point which arises in discussion of
Krier's proposals, the desire for nostalgia
might also be interpreted in different terms as
expressing a whoEy legitimate dislike of mod-
em housing estates and their impact on the
landscape. If people wish to live in a dwelling
which looks like, say, a Tudor cottage, why
should their wishes not be respected?
The advantages and disadvantages of
American and European place Utopias are
so different and so complementary that one
way forward is to combine them together.
American urban visions, most notably that of
Venturi, favour consumer preferences but are
environmentally disruptive; European urban
visions are sensitive to the environment but

are largely conceived in terms of architectural
style. So why not conceive of a place Utopia
which is sensitive to both the environment and
consumer wishes?
Cooper Marcus and Sarkissian (1986) pro-
vide an example of how American and
European traditions might be combined. The
authors praise high density European sub-
urbs, specifically those in Sweden, for avoid-
ing the social and geographical isolation of
their low density American equivalents. How-
ever, they wish neither to return to the high
rise which dominated the suburban housing
schemes built in continental Europe in the
1960s nor to adopt purely aesthetic solutions
such as those proposed in Essex County
Council's Design Guide for Residential Areas.
Instead they recommend medium density, to
be more precise low rise/high density, 'clus-
tered housing1 which makes better use of
space than American suburbia whilst simulta-
neously applying the lessons of numerous sur-
veys that an overwhelming preference exists
for the attributes of suburbia, attributes such
as a private entrance at ground level, the exist-
ence of defences around a dwelling to prevent
encroachment by strangers, convenient car
parking and a pleasant green outlook from the
windows of the house. In the inner city, clus-
tered housing would allow 'people to enjoy a
green and quiet environment within easy
access to city jobs'. On the city fringes, similar
housing would, 'if repeated often enough,
increase overall densities and render public
transport more economical' (Cooper Marcus
and Sarkissian, 1986,p9).
Though the logic of high density/low rise is
faultless, it is not a panacea. It is, as the authors
admit, a selective vision of the future intended
for lower income family households, especial-
ly single parent households and families with
working women who have no access to a car.
Other household types - for instance those on
higher incomes or younger, childless house-
holds - may well prefer something different,
say, a more urban or suburban environment.
In addition and more importantly the concept
of high density/low rise begs the question as to
density limits in low rise schemes. Cooper
Marcus and Sarkissian (p33) state that there is
'no simple relation between density and satis-
faction'. This is true in the sense that satisfac-
tory estates exist at very high densities in low
rise schemes and that unsatisfactory schemes
exist at lower densities. What is equally true is
that the risk of failure is greater in high densi-
Postmodernism and Housing
ty/low rise schemes (Smith and Burbidge,
1973). Low rise/high density was a common
form of development in British council housing
in the early and mid 1970s. Subsequent sur-
veys suggest that residents are more likely to
be satisfied if they live in lower density, more
conventional, more suburban-looking estates
(FurbeyandGoodchild, 1986).
Place Utopias have to be treated with a
degree of caution. They deal with the relation-
ship of people to places rather than people to
other people. Consequently, they neglect the
concept of power and cannot provide a full
understanding of the impact of social change
on the built environment. On the other hand,
place Utopias pursue a neglected theme in
housing studies and are no more limited than
other, more conventional discipline-based ex-
ercises which commit similar errors in other
directions.
Utopianism is additionally problematic in
that it neglects economic questions, notably
those relating to how dwellings are built and
plans implemented. Debates about Utopia are
no more than a reflection on directions of
change. They are statements of wishes and
say little about how to link the present to the
future. Nevertheless, to cite Lynch (1981,
pp315-316), 'wishing is a way of finding out,
and a way of communicating - one way of
learning how to act in the present'.
Postmodernism and politics
A distinctive aspect, perhaps the most distinc-
tive aspect of the postmodern debate is the
way in which it cuts across the conventional
distinction between aesthetics and politics.
Aesthetics comes to the fore partly because of
the origins of the debate in architecture. If
design is to provide satisfactory solutions, it
must always expose its own dilemmas; it must
ask what it seeks to represent. In addition and
more importantly in the context of the debates
of the 1980s, aesthetics comes to the fore
because a proliferation of life-styles and the
activities of the advertising industry have
made the city richer in visual signs and sym-
bols. To an extent, everyday life has become
aestheticised.
Not that the significance of aesthetics is
always welcomed. The critics of postmod-
ernism sometimes argue that aesthetics
encourage a superficial, conservative way of
thinking. But even the critics accept the signifi-
cance of art and architecture as a mirror to the
139
Housing Studies Vol 6 No S
world. The difference is that the critics gener-
ally suggest that the world itself is deeply con-
taminated.
The debate in social philosophy
In 1984 a special edition of the philosophy
journal New German Critique was devoted to
postmodernism. The case in favour was put by
Huyssen. The term 'postmodernism', it was
said, describes 'a slowly emerging cultural
transformation in Western societies, a change
in sensibility'. Postmodernism originated as a
reaction to the appropriation of the ideal of
modernity by the establishment - by state
bureaucracies, by private corporations and by
the art market. Postmodernism challenges the
assumption that novelty is always desirable; it
breaks with the distinction between high art
and popular culture and it abandons the
'imperialism' of 'enlightened modernity'.
Postmodernism can degenerate into 'anything
goes' eclecticism. But it also has a progressive
side. It heightens awareness of social differ-
ences, 'otherness' and so hastens the accep-
tance of the claims of the women's movement
and of ethnic minorities. In addition, it express-
es the same distrust of modernisation and
technology as motivated the ecology and envi-
ronmental movements.
'Just as Marx analysed the culture of
modernity dialectically as bringing both
progress and destruction, the culture of
postmodemity must be grasped in its
gains as well as in its losses, in its
promises as well as in its depravations.'
(Huyssen, 1984, p29)
When Raulet (1984) put the case against
postmodernism he did not dispute that the
ideal of modernity was in decay. The objection
was that postmodernism was itself a symptom
of decay. Raulet characterised postmodern
architecture as a 'flight into mere appearance'
and argued that, if modernism was based on a
concept of modernity as a 'one way street', a
street without diversity, postmodernism
implied a 'dead end'. It implied a 'bottomless
fragmentation', a gigantic loss of meaning of
the type described by Baudrillard in Les
Strategies Fatales, a world in which critical
analysis is impossible and in which the line
between the real and the imaginary disap-
pears.
More recently, the critique of postmod-
ernism has filtered into discussions of hous-
ing and urban studies. The Condition of
140
Postmodemity by Harvey (1989) provides the
most substantial example. Harvey accepts that
postmodernism is more than a passing fad and
that it marks a change in the social under-
standing of time and space. He also accepts
that postmodernism started with the best
intentions as a revolt against the establishment.
He argues, however, that because the revolt
connected better to the ideology of anarchism
and libertarianism than to Marxism, it drifted
into a position which could not confront the
New Right ideologies of the 1980s. Con-
sequently, continued social progress now
depends on the possibility of mounting a
counter attack - 'of narrative against the
image, of ethics against aesthetics, of a project
of Becoming rather than Being, arid to search
for unity within difference . . .' (Harvey, 1989,
p45).
A distinctive aspect of Harvey's critique, of
particular relevance to housing studies, is an
attack on philosophies of the 'home' on the
grounds that these resemble the philosophy of
'Being' promoted by the one-time Nazi sym-
pathiser Martin Heidegger. To demonstrate
the point, Harvey (1989, p218) cites the follow-
ing passage from Bachelard.
'Being is already a value. life begins
well, it begins enclosed, protected, all
warm in the bosom of the house.... This
is the environment in which protective
beings live. . . . In this remote region,
memory and imagination remain as-
sociated. . . . Through dreamsj the vari-
ous dwelling-places in our lives co-
penetrate and retain the treasures of for-
mer days...'
Allen (1989) provides another, related cri-
tique in the context of an attack on the housing
policies of the Conservative government in
power in Britain in the 1980s. Allen again
accepts that 'postmodern' is an adequate term
to describe contemporary reality] "We are all
postmodernist now', she writes. But, again, the
postmodern is treated as a purely negative
phenomenon, a 'politics of despair1. Postmod-
ernism is equated with an art which is pluralist,
which is decontextualised and which favours
fragmented narratives of reform.! The result,
it is said, is to undermine 'our ability to dis-
tinguish truth from untruth and justice from un-
justice'. The answer is to create 'a "new
modernist" politics to set against today's post-
modernism'.
The dangers of postmodernism are real

enough. Because postmodernism marks a shift
in the sense of time and space, it summarises
negative as well as positive tendencies. But it
is contradictory to state that postmodernism is
an adequate description of the present, whilst
simultaneously criticising postmodernism for
encouraging the politics of despair. To see
nothing positive in postmodernism is even
more an exercise in despair. It implies a total
alienation from the present and suggests that
practical, piecemeal change is futile. If 'post-
modem' is indeed a historical and cultural
condition, then progress can only be achieved
through struggles within its assumptions and
not in some theoretically watertight statement
of correct principles of beauty or social justice.
It is true that the use of the prefix 'post' in
postmodernism begs the question as to what
comes next. To this extent, the term 'new mod-
ernism', as proposed by Allen, or 'Second
Modernism', as has recently been used in dis-
cussions of architectural style, might be con-
sidered preferable. Such a new or second
modernism would accept the social and cul-
tural reality of life in the 1980s, notably the
existence of tendencies towards pluralism and
diversity, but look forward to a society with
more social justice and more individual rights.
There is, however, no significant difference
between such a vision of a modernised mod-
ernism and the view of resistant or progres-
sive postmodernism promoted by Huyssen.
The only difference is one of words.
Allen makes another, more specific error.
The statement that postmodernism decontex-
tualises art applies mainly to those architects
such as Rossi who emphasise oppositions and
contradictions and aesthetic experimentation
as an end in itself. There is another strand of
postmodernism, most notably associated with
Krier, which is much more concerned with the
maintenance of tradition and with the design of
schemes which fit into the urban landscape.
A similar tendency towards exaggerated
criticism arises in respect of Raulet's and
Harvey's dismissal of aesthetics. Harvey is
right to emphasise that changes in popular
culture have to be linked to changes in the
production of economic goods. In the case of
housing, a concern with production would
imply a greater sensitivity to conflicts between
the interests of consumers and those of the
speculative house building industry. It is, for
example, naive to point, as does Venturi, to the
advertising material of developers as an indi-
cation of consumer preferences, without also
Postmodernism and Housing
considering the likelihood that such advertis-
ing is determined by marketing strategies
which are, in turn, determined by the need to
maintain short-term profitability. On the other
hand, Harvey's desire to launch a project 'of
ethics against aesthetics' is to ignore the extent
to which ethics and aesthetics go together and
the way in which cultural criticism may parallel
and give a visual dimension to social criticism.
If one asks people how they would like to live,
most answers are full of physical detail. Why,
therefore, should social criticism lack a similar
dimension?
In any case, it is wrong to argue that post-
modernism substitutes appearance for social
reality. Appearance may indeed be pursued
as an end in itself. The advocates of stylistic
Post-Modemism, notably Jencks (1984; 1986),
fall into this fault. Equally though, and this is the
position of Rapoport (1982) and other person-
alisation theorists, appearance may be treated
as important on the grounds that this is the
main medium of non-verbal communication
and that the perception of appearance as
attractive or unattractive is a crucial factor in
influencing satisfaction.
To argue against philosophies of the home
raises other, more complex problems. It is
true that a concern with environmental mean-
ing leads inevitably to a recognition of the
importance of the house as a 'home'. It is
equally true that an association exists between
an emphasis on 'home' and both a traditional-
ist architecture and the ideology of the Nazi
party (Miller Lane, 1968). Moreover, Harvey is
right to be suspicious of the emphasis given to
the home in Heidegger's social philosophy.
The meaning of 'home' is associated with a
desire for 'ontological security' - the idea that
the world is, or should be, predictable and in
accordance with a person's expectations of
what is desirable and acceptable. And, though
Harvey does not say so, the association
between ontology and 'slave thinking' - the
passive acceptance of authority - is the main
burden of the lengthy critique of Heidegger's
philosophy of Being in Negative Dialectics by
Adomo (1973).
The relation between philosophies of the
home, traditional architecture and conserv-
ative or extreme Right-wing political ideology
is far from clear cut, however. The German
experience is not typical in Europe. In Britain a
traditional approach to housing design was
promoted by the garden city movement in the
context of a desire to offer working people
141
Housing Studies Vol 6 No 2
proper homes through a programme of
reform based on small communities. Does this
mean that Unwin and other leading members
of the garden city movement were potential
Nazis? Surely not. Conversely, in France as
Boudon (1979, pp22-27) has demonstrated,
the modernist ideal of standardisation was
taken up by the Fascist group, 'Faisceau', to
which Le Corbusier is reputed to have be-
longed. Indeed, it is possible to draw out simi-
larities between Fascist ideology and the mod-
ernism of Le Corbusier on the grounds that
both prefer order, monumentalism in urban
design and social discipline. However, as
Boudon has also argued, such parallels would
be as equally misleading as the opposite par-
allels between traditionalism in architecture
and extreme nationalism. The fact that a single
architectural style can be used as a standard
bearer for different, even completely opposed,
political ideologies would call into question
whether politics and architectural style are, in
any way, consistently related to one another.
Whatever the complex and sometimes
dubious history of concepts of the home in
philosophy and politics, the home has to be
treated as a necessary aspect of urban life.
How might it best be conceived? One possible
answer is to insist, along the lines of personal-
isation theory, that the house is as much an
expression of individuality as social conform-
ity. This is only half an answer, however.
Though it avoids the machine-like discipline of
Le Corbusier's ideal city, it leads, if pushed to
an extreme, in the direction of an atomistic
conception of society of a type which denies
the possibility of collective political action.
Another, more satisfactory answer is to insist
on a sense of balance between order and
chaos, between the home and life outside. In
the words of one contributor to the architec-
tural debate, 'To live fully, we must both ven-
ture out and return. To exist without order is to
be homeless, yet to remain at home is to be
imprisoned.' (Dovey, 1977, p29)
Postmodernism and socialism
Harris and Lipman (1986) have made another,
very distinctive critique of postmodernism.
Harris and Lipman accept that aesthetics and
social criticism are complementary to one
another. The objection is more to the way in
which stylistic Post-Modemism separates aes-
thetics from its social content in a way which
both neglects the possibility of 'the education
of desire' and favours the continued suprema-
142
cy of the professional architect over and
above popular preferences. They Jconclude by
calling for a return to the socialism of William
Morris and they summarise their own propos-
als through a quotation in which William
Morris calls for the creation of a new architec-
tural style which, within the context of a broad
social change, 'will be historic I in the true
sense' . . . 'will remember the history of the
past, make history in the present and teach
history in the future'.
Harris and Lipman are right to be suspi-
cious of the elitist assumptions of Post-Modem
architecture. They are also right to quote
William Morris as a possible way forward.
Morris's anti-capitalist romanticism is quite dif-
ferent from the grim image of mass housing
cities which modernism later came to repre-
sent. Morris shows that tradition' in environ-
mental design is fully consistent with radical
social change. Further, Morris's commitment
to socialism is a reminder that radical place
Utopias can only be achieved through political
action. )
The weakness in Harris and Iipman's ac-
count is to ignore the extent to which postmod-
ern urban design already presupposes a com-
bination of tradition and change | of the type
endorsed by Morris. For instance, though
Krier lacks a commitment to socialism, his
writings contain many similarities to those of
Morris. Like William Morris, Krier's approach
to design is motivated by an extreme dislike of
the consequences of industrial development.
'Beautiful places', Krier (1984a) states, 'are
only those which have not yet been dominated
by industry.' Like Morris, Krier wishes to re-
establish 'a craftsman-like tradition' in design.
Again like Morris, Krier has no time for con-
temporary architectural fashion. 'Today', Krier
writes, 'kitsch triumphs from Las Vegas to
Moscow and from Berlin to Peking!'
A further weakness in Harris and Iipman's
account is to ignore the extent to which a
revival of the William Morris tradition would
itself demand a major change in socialism.
Twentieth century socialism in Britain has
been mostly dominated by a Fabian tradition.
It has been generally understood as a mixture
of central planning and Keynesian economic
management and has generally adopted
an uncritical acceptance of 'modernisation',
meaning economic growth, as a precondition
for the redistribution of wealth. I In housing,
socialism has been concerned with quantita-
tive targets, with the promotion of production

and with raising the standards of housing of
the poor to those of the rich. In contrast, the
William Morris tradition would suggest poli-
cies much like those included in Lynch's low-
growth place Utopia. The William Morris tradi-
tion would suggest the decentralisation of
decision-making responsibilities in town plan-
ning and housing policy, combined wife an
emphasis on environmental conservation over
and above economic development and,
though this is seldom made explicit, the intro-
duction of a social policy which counters
inequalities through a general reduction in
consumption levels.
Postmodernism has also been criticised as
anti-socialist on the grounds that it promotes
individualism. Allen writes that 'if the "ultimate
pluralism" is individualism' then the inevitable
implication of postmodern politics is the single
policy of the present British Conservative gov-
ernment to encourage owner-occupation. In
fact, many of the key ideas in postmodern
design - for instance those concerned with
personalisation and with the promotion of clas-
sical values in urban design - were intended
for use by the public sector, either in social
housing schemes or by town planning agen-
cies.
Postmodernism is not necessarily individu-
alistic. Equally it is not necessarily socialist.
Postmodernism is essentially open-ended. It is
a way of looking at housing and the built envi-
ronment in terms of visual imagery and, as is
most clearly shown in the various Utopias, a
means of reflecting on directions of change.
Postmodernism does not prescribe easy
answers, unless, as Harris and Iipman have
noted, it is interpreted as a justification for the
establishment of another cultural or architec-
tural elite. Postmodernism merely clarifies the
issues at stake. Huyssen is right when he states
'No matter how troubling it may be, the land-
scape of the postmodern surrounds us. It
simultaneously delimits and opens our hori-
zons. It's our problem and our hope.'
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