Graveyards of distinctiveness: how cities are making us all the same

Passengers on the Seoul metro, wearing a uniform familiar from cities around the world. Image: Getty.

The latest column in the “Critical Cities” series, which questions the rise of colossal and globalising “Urban Industry”.

Globalisation amounts to tsunami after cultural tsunami, flattening out our differences. Aside from the “Middle East”, where men wear the thawb, and across the Indian subcontinent, where women wear sari and salwar kameez, the rest of us, when not at work, wear variations on a uniform of blue jeans, T-shirt and trainers. Trendsetters from Jakarta to Delhi, Cape Town to London to Toronto, are a carbon copy of tech start-ups tattoos, beards, rolled-up trousers, and bicylces.

Portrait photographs taken on Ellis Island, the gateway new immigrants to New York were required to pass through, show that, in the early 20th century, even people from different parts of Europe wore distinct clothing. What would a portrait photographer capture people wearing as they pass through a US port today? Westernisation – or as they say in polite society, “globalisation” – is flattening out our differences and distinctiveness.

Graveyards of distinctiveness

The centralisation of the world’s population into cities, a result of forced and heavily promoted urbanisation, is one of the main reasons for the rapid destruction of many thousands of distinct languages.

As people are uprooted and abstracted from reality, their survival in cities depends on finding and keeping work. Fitting in – minimising chances for discrimination, and maximising opportunities for work – means adopting the everyday practices of the dominant group as quickly as possible.

Self-reliance and independence are not possible in cities. Yet integration and assimilation results in the steady decline of a person’s existing culture, as they amputate their own culture in an attempt to adopt and be seen to adopt the governing group’s practices and values.


The process of levelling out and enervating one’s identity is actively encouraged in schools, local and national events, and heavily championed in academia. Often one is told to minimise, hide or give up one’s culture for entirely contradictory reasons like “tolerance” and “community cohesion”.

The London School of Economics’s Professor Richard Sennett, in his recent input to Deutsche Bank’s Urban Age 10 event, emphatically stated:

“In order to make the city more tolerant we should have a less strong identification with home. We should learn to use the city and live in the city in a more impersonal way. It is why I have argued against the many, many projects that seek to strength community.”

This is a profoundly troubling statement: while it didn’t go unnoticed on Twitter, frustratingly, it was not challenged as it ought to have been in the LSE lecture theatre at the time.

The Urban Industry persistently promotes cities as places of “cosmopolitanism” – often alongside photographs of people in street cafes, crowd shots at public events or families visiting museums. Cities, they say, offer a mouth-watering slice of cosmopolitan culture.

Cosmopolitanism, however, isn’t as so many want to think it is. Cosmopolitanism is the idea that human beings are the same: global citizens, citizens of the world, citizens of one thing – people who share a morality and an outlook and a willingness to dissolve away differences. This almost always results in the enervating of identities, except for consumable and somewhat superficial attributes like food and festivals.

While London, for example, has a high percentage of non-English people, it is White Anglo-Saxon Protestant (WASP) norms that dominate the public sphere of schooling, culture, law and politics, as well as penetrate homes, places of worship and study. It is difficult to think of even one structure or institution that is today influenced by Bantu laws or Nyulnylan language, for example.

Like Sennett, Professor Saskia Sassen, at an earlier Deutsche Bank Urban Age 10 event, also extolled the “sausage machine“ processes of cities, saying that they

“… shape an urban subject and urban subjectivity. [The city] can override the religious subject, the ethnic subject, the racialised subject and in certain settings, also the differences of class.”

Cities, despite effervescent statements of “complexity”, “diversity” and “incompleteness” are sites of high-speed cultural homogenisation. Cities are the graveyards of distinctiveness.

Unfortunately, persuasive academics like Sennett and Sassen celebrate and actively encourage this position. The processes of standardisation speed up in cities – perhaps in ways similar to Moore’s Law and computer processing speeds – doubling in ever-shorter periods.

An advertising hoarding for British style housing in Shanghai. Image: Getty.

Lingua franca

The death of distinct languages is particularly informative and illustrative of urban processes. Without use, a language dies. Without language, a culture has a death sentence.

Second-generation urban dwellers, particularly intercontinental migrants, regularly don’t speak the same language as their parents, a condition labelled “First Language Attrition”. Conforming is often a matter of survival for “minorities”, perhaps understandable given the level of prejudice inflicted and prosperity dependent on successfully mastering school exams. Within three generations an individual can be entirely alienated from their relatives’ language and experiences, and also of knowledge of living a pre-urbanised life.

Despite the hype about London’s “diversity” – a key element of the city’s pretentious claim to be one of just two “global cities” – English is overwhelmingly the dominant language, with 80 per cent of London’s population using English as their main language.

There are just 53 main languages spoken in London according to the 2011 Census. In Papua New Guinea, currently one of the least urbanised places on earth, over 800 distinct languages are spoken today. There are still over 2,000 living languages across the continent of Africa. Cities, contrary to the Urban Industry narrative, have been swiftly undermining a world abundant with distinctiveness and diversity.

Without language, the culture that created it swiftly dies and is either disappeared or appropriated and then repacked for and by the dominating group. It is nearly impossible to resurrect a language and culture once this occurs, though there has been a very small handful of dead or near-extinct languages being re-started (Hebrew is one of them).

For the last century, every 14 days one of the world’s remaining 7,000-plus distinct languages has been killed off and supplanted with English, Spanish, Arabic and Mandarin. Today, 95 per cent of the world’s population speaks just 6 per cent of the world’s languages. It is estimated that by 2100, though probably earlier, over 50 per cent of existing languages will be have been destroyed, leaving us with just a handful of dominant, though graciously self-confessed “rudimentary” and “bullying” languages.

Citizenship itself is often dependent on the successful passing of spoken and written language tests, and the controlling group of course determines the language chosen for testing. Citizenship is conditional on passing spoken and written English tests for the US, Australia and Canada. (In Australia alone, there were over 600 distinct languages before the British invaded in 1788.) 

English is the official language of 83 nations and regions, few of which are remotely geographically close to England. Only recently, British prime minister David Cameron said that families would have to be broken up and their members deported if one or more didn't speak English.


People in cities dominantly use and have the greatest access to the Internet and the World Wide Web. English dominates the internet, the ultimate homogenisation tool, with 851.6m users (26 per cent of the total). Chinese is next with 704m (21 per cent). There is then a dramatic drop to Spanish with 245m (7.5 per cent) and Arabic with 155m (4.8 per cent).

Perhaps more importantly, currently 54.2 per cent of all web content is English and a tiny 2.1 per cent is in Chinese. Despite there being 497m Hindi speakers, making it the third most-spoken language in the world, just 0.03 per cent of websites are in Hindi.

Perhaps our grandchildren will be left with just the English, Mandarin and Arabic languages. Perhaps English will dominate officialdom to the four corners of the world. Perhaps a Chinese elite will rule the world, but will have to use the English language to do so.

Same clothes, same languages, similar ideas, morals and understandings; the world is getting smaller and many, like Sennett and Sassen, see this as unreservedly a good thing. The decline of distinctiveness and the rise of sameness are regularly legislated for. We see this with language tests for citizenship, compulsory education, proscribed curriculums in schools and a global standarisation for laws and finance.

The argument is that sameness increases the chances for communication, collaboration and tolerance. Advocates regularly suggest alikeness and familiarity with each other results in a reduction of war and other conflicts. Polite society also like to call it “harmonisation”. (Perhaps it is worth noting at this point that the majority of crimes against persons happen in the home, by people known to the victim, very often a family member.)

Communication and collaboration are also argued to be good things in and of themselves. Some even argue sameness is important in the pursuit of creating level playing fields, so that everyone can compete equally. Others argue they find the regularity and repetition of clothing, languages, architecture and ideas comforting, evidence of a global village, a sign of progress.

Yet the result is the same: globalisation is flattening out our differences and enervating our distinctiveness.

If you follow the money it is evident that these processese, almost entirely and without exception, benefit western nations and just a small select elite of other nations. If you follow the politics, having a handful of cities that contain most of the world’s population, where its inhabitants have over generations had their distinct cultures eviscerated from them, you find a people who no longer know who they are, which is a nudge politician’s utopia. Our cultures, our different and differing identities are arguably the most valuable thing we have, not just for ourselves but also for each other. Without culture and identity we are the walking dead. 
 
A good question to ask any organisation or person arguing that you or I should give up our culture or identity to fit in is get them to list what they themselves have given up, and what they are asking their children to remove from their own lives. It will become evident very quickly that their list very short indeed. 

Deepa Naik and Trenton Oldfield are the founders of This Is Not A Gateway, and the editors of Critical Cities series of books.

This is the fourth column in the Critical Cities series. You can find the first three at the links below:

1) Urbanisation is not natural or inevitable. It’s being inflicted upon us by the forces of capitalism.

2) Everything you thought you knew about cities is wrong.

3) Against the tyranny of progress: How did we come to see urbanisation as part of human evolution?

“Critical Cities: Ideas, Knowledge and Agitation, Volume 4” is out now from Myrdle Court Press.

 
 
 
 

Was the decline in Liverpool’s historic population really that unusual?

A view of Liverpool from Birkenhead. Image: Getty.

It is often reported that Liverpool’s population halved after the 1930s. But is this true? Or is it a myth?

Often, it’s simply assumed that it’s true. The end. Indeed, proud Londoner Lord Adonis – a leading proponent of the Liverpool-bypassing High Speed 2 railway, current chair of the National Infrastructure Commission, and generally a very influential person – stood on the stairs in Liverpool Town Hall in 2011 and said:

“The population of Liverpool has nearly halved in the last 50 years.”

This raises two questions. Firstly, did the population of the City of Liverpool really nearly halve in the 50 year period to 2011? That’s easy to check using this University of Portsmouth website – so I did just that (even though I knew he was wrong anyway). In 2011, the population of the City of Liverpool was 466,415. Fifty years earlier, in 1961, it was 737,637, which equates to a 37 per cent drop. Oops!

In fact, the City of Liverpool’s peak population was recorded in the 1931 Census as 846,302. Its lowest subsequent figure was recorded in the 2001 Census as 439,428 – which represents a 48 per cent decline from the peak population, over a 70 year period.

Compare this to the population figures for the similarly sized City of Manchester. Its peak population also recorded in the 1931 Census as 748,729, and its lowest subsequent figure was also recorded in the 2001 Census, as 392,830. This also represents a 48 per cent decline from the peak population, over the same 70 year period.

So, as can be seen here, Liverpool is not a special case at all. Which makes me wonder why it is often singled out or portrayed as exceptional in this regard, in the media and, indeed, by some badly briefed politicians. Even London has a similar story to tell, and it is told rather well in this recent article by a Londoner, for the Museum of London. (Editor’s note: It’s one of mine.)

This leads me onto the second question: where have all those people gone: London? The Moon? Mars?

Well, it turns out that the answer is bit boring and obvious actually: after World War 2, lots of people moved to the suburbs. You know: cars, commuter trains, slum clearance, the Blitz, all that stuff. In other words, Liverpool is just like many other places: after the war, this country experienced a depopulation bonanza.


So what form did this movement to the suburbs take, as far as Liverpool was concerned? Well, people moved and were moved to the suburbs of Greater Liverpool, in what are now the outer boroughs of the city region: Halton, Knowsley, St Helens, Sefton, Wirral. Others moved further, to Cheshire West & Chester, West Lancashire, Warrington, even nearby North Wales, as previously discussed here.

In common with many cities, indeed, Liverpool City Council actually built and owned large several ‘New Town’ council estates, to which they moved tens of thousands of people to from Liverpool’s inner districts: Winsford in Cheshire West (where comedian John Bishop grew up), Runcorn in Halton (where comedian John Bishop also grew up), Skelmersdale in West Lancashire, Kirkby in Knowsley. There is nothing unique or sinister here about Liverpool (apart from comedian John Bishop). This was common practice across the country – Indeed, it was central government policy – and resulted in about 160,000 people being ‘removed’ from the Liverpool local authority area.

Many other people also moved to the nearby suburbs of Greater Liverpool to private housing – another trend reflected across the country. It’s worth acknowledging, however, that cities across the world are subject to a level of ‘churn’ in population, whereby many people move out and many people move in, over time, too.

So how did those prominent images of derelict streets in the inner-city part of the City of Liverpool local authority area come about? For that, you have to blame the last Labour government’s over-zealous ‘Housing Market Renewal Initiative’ (HMRI) disaster – and the over enthusiastic participation of the then-Lib Dem controlled city council. On the promise of ‘free’ money from central government, the latter removed hundreds of people from their homes with a view to demolishing the Victorian terraces, and building new replacements. Many of these houses, in truth, were already fully modernised, owner-occupied houses within viable and longstanding communities, as can be seen here in Voelas Street, one of the famous Welsh Streets of Liverpool:

Voelas Street before HMRI implementation. Image: WelshStreets.co.uk.

The same picture after HMRI implementation Image: WelshStreets.co.uk. 

Nonetheless: the council bought the houses and ‘tinned them up’ ready for demolition. Then the coalition Conservative/Lib Dem government, elected in 2010, pulled the plug on the scheme. 

Fast forward to 2017 and many of the condemned houses have been renovated, in a process which is still ongoing. These are over-subscribed when they come to market, suggesting that the idea was never appropriate for Liverpool on that scale. 

At any rate, it turns out that the Liverpool metropolitan population is pretty much the same as it was at its peak in 1931 (depending where the local borough boundaries are arbitrarily drawn). It just begs the question: why are well educated and supposedly clever people misrepresenting the Liverpool metropolis, in particular, in this way so often? Surely they aren’t stupid are they?


And why are some people so determined to always isolate the City of Liverpool from its hinterland, while London is always described in terms of its whole urban area? It just confuses and undermines what would otherwise often be worthwhile comparisons and discussions. Or, to put it another way: “never, ever, compare apples with larger urban zones”.

In a recent Channel 4 documentary, for example, the well-known and respected journalist Michael Burke directly compared the forecast population growths, by 2039, of the City of Liverpool single local authority area against that of the combined 33 local authority areas of Greater London: 42,722 versus 2.187,708. I mean, what bizarre point is such an inappropriate comparison even trying to make? It is like comparing the projected growth of a normal sized-person’s head with the projected growth of the whole of an obese person, over a protracted period.

Having said all that, there is an important sensible conversation to be had as to why the populations of the Greater Liverpool metropolis and others haven’t grown as fast as maybe should have been the case, whilst, in recent times, the Greater London population has been burgeoning. But constantly pitching it as some sort of rare local apocalypse helps no one.

Dave Mail has declared himself CityMetric’s Liverpool City Region correspondent. He will be updating us on the brave new world of Liverpool City Region, mostly monthly, in ‘E-mail from Liverpool City Region’ and he is on twitter @davemail2017.