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elfsLook at this building. This has to be one of the most horrific eyesores ever inflicted upon a people. From the gasheous, cyclopeon walkway to that malevolent and violent glare of its outer shell, this thing deserves nothing less than to be razed to the ground. The idea of a host of construction like this in one place raises shivers. It's the kind of place one expects to find a Dalek.
But we shouldn't worry. For some reason the government of Britain has decided that all future planning permits have a lifespan of 30 years. The equation by which old buildings are determined to be "old" rather than "heritage" and worthy of restoration is apparently arcane and biased towards demolition. Britain, it seems, is determined to reach the domed cities of a Dr. Who episode in short order and has put into place policies to make that happen as fast as possible.
Whatever happened to the respectable art of making buildings that, in theory, should last forever? Is there something wrong with making a place that will be as comfortable, as maintainable, and as humane a century from now as it is today? Christopher Alexander wrote the book, "Pattern Languages of Architecture," to point out the obvious: we know what kinds of places human beings like to live and work in, we should build with those likes in mind and not go all-out to "innovate," especially not in expensive constructs that people have to live and work in!
In a similar vein, there's a great article by economist Thomas DeGregori in which he points out that with thet advent of the modern age, when we're asking for "handmade" goods we're frequently paying extra for inferiority, for flaws, for signs of the craftsman's hands. Once craftsmen have perfected a form, mass-production assures us that any mistakes they may have made in reproducing the form will not be made. Hand-made is artificially contrived scarcity, and rarely exceeds machine-made in quality.
When this principle is applied to food production, it becomes even more apparent. We've gone from the backbreaking and torturous job of spreading manure and plowing by hand to machine tillage and harvesting. We plow to get rid of weed, but tillage creates runoff that pollutes streams and robs the topsoil of its organic economic value. Now genetic engineering enables no-till production with output exceeding that of many modern farms. No runoff, reduced pollution, reduced need for chemical pecticides. This is a good thing.
Someone claimed to me that the protestors in Cancun were "living what they believed," setting up sustainable mini-environments of their own. Nothing could be further from the truth: they trucked in that equipment, which required enormous manufacturing infrastructures to support, from the outside.
"Sustainable" simply isn't. Handmade should not be confused with "superior" from a material point of view. Sentimental should not be confused with practical. Nor should innovative.
But we shouldn't worry. For some reason the government of Britain has decided that all future planning permits have a lifespan of 30 years. The equation by which old buildings are determined to be "old" rather than "heritage" and worthy of restoration is apparently arcane and biased towards demolition. Britain, it seems, is determined to reach the domed cities of a Dr. Who episode in short order and has put into place policies to make that happen as fast as possible.
Whatever happened to the respectable art of making buildings that, in theory, should last forever? Is there something wrong with making a place that will be as comfortable, as maintainable, and as humane a century from now as it is today? Christopher Alexander wrote the book, "Pattern Languages of Architecture," to point out the obvious: we know what kinds of places human beings like to live and work in, we should build with those likes in mind and not go all-out to "innovate," especially not in expensive constructs that people have to live and work in!
In a similar vein, there's a great article by economist Thomas DeGregori in which he points out that with thet advent of the modern age, when we're asking for "handmade" goods we're frequently paying extra for inferiority, for flaws, for signs of the craftsman's hands. Once craftsmen have perfected a form, mass-production assures us that any mistakes they may have made in reproducing the form will not be made. Hand-made is artificially contrived scarcity, and rarely exceeds machine-made in quality.
When this principle is applied to food production, it becomes even more apparent. We've gone from the backbreaking and torturous job of spreading manure and plowing by hand to machine tillage and harvesting. We plow to get rid of weed, but tillage creates runoff that pollutes streams and robs the topsoil of its organic economic value. Now genetic engineering enables no-till production with output exceeding that of many modern farms. No runoff, reduced pollution, reduced need for chemical pecticides. This is a good thing.
Someone claimed to me that the protestors in Cancun were "living what they believed," setting up sustainable mini-environments of their own. Nothing could be further from the truth: they trucked in that equipment, which required enormous manufacturing infrastructures to support, from the outside.
"Sustainable" simply isn't. Handmade should not be confused with "superior" from a material point of view. Sentimental should not be confused with practical. Nor should innovative.
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Date: 2003-09-24 06:09 pm (UTC)