Pseudo-Public Space in a Post-Pandemic World
As the world slowly emerges from lockdown, there is a tangible excitement among some urban planners. Pre-Coronavirus, urbanists had been fighting for years for low-traffic neighbourhoods, cycle networks, and pedestrianised streets. Now, these measures are suddenly being implemented in an effort to re-open cities in a safe, socially distanced manner. There are pop-up cycle lanes, restaurants co-opting parking spaces, and whole roads closed to vehicles for exercise, play, and dining alfresco.
Many of these measures may be here to stay, as we realise the benefits of these new, people-focused cities. I too was excited to see this happening. In my enthusiasm and privilege, I had not stopped to consider how these new plans do not work for everyone. Ariel Ward spoke about the potential harm this post-pandemic urbanism could cause if not adequately considered. Her article talks about the nuances of mobility for women of colour, especially in this age of Covid-19 and Black Lives Matter. The journalist Alissa Walker also highlights this in her article from May 2020, where she argues that these new pedestrianised streets mostly benefit white, middle-class people: people who are able to work from home and now want to use public space solely for recreation, ignoring those who need roads for commuting to essential jobs, for their street businesses, or even for their bed.
This is not a critique of these newly pedestrianised spaces. Outdoor cafés bring bustle and vibrancy to otherwise drab streets. They increase footfall to local businesses, which in turn, boosts commercial revenue. Carving out space for people from our car-dominated world is fantastic. Vehicles have taken priority for far too long. Supporting the struggling hospitality sector is vital. However, we should stop to consider the consequences of handing over large amounts of public space to private owners. It could be just a parking spot here, or a street there, or an entire downtown area - it all adds up. What may seem innocuous, even advantageous, to a person of (white, middle-class) privilege such as myself, is harming people of colour, disabled people, the homeless population, and those on low incomes.
Cafés make use of parking spaces for outdoor dining. Mike Lydon
More London is a prime example of sinister, pseudo-public space. Mace Group
Re-allocating public space and giving it to private companies (i.e. cafés and restaurants) limits the areas open to everyone. It restricts the new outdoor eateries - or ‘streeteries’ - to people who have the time and money to eat out. Although a street may look open to everyone, consider the rough sleeper, the group of young black men, the street vendor, and others who could face discrimination from the new private owners. Think of the parent with a pram or the wheelchair user who now can’t use the pavement because it’s covered with tables and chairs. As one accessibility advocate put it: it’s not about being anti-alfresco, it’s about being anti-afterthought.
These new parking-spot-cafés are a form of pseudo-public space: areas which appear public but are in fact privately owned. Pseudo-public space is on the rise in cities like London, Bristol, and Manchester, and it poses serious morality issues. A 2017 Guardian article highlights the sinister nature of pseudo-public space, where busking, street-vending, campaigning, rough sleeping, skateboarding, and even journalistic interviews are often not allowed, and are very often policed by private security guards and CCTV cameras. Yet, owners seldom make their rules of ‘acceptable behaviour’ public knowledge, meaning their regulations could be an ever-changing list of preconceptions and questionable ethics. Pseudo-public spaces threaten democracy and exacerbate already entrenched prejudices about the homeless population and historically marginalised racial groups, among others.
Of course, ‘streeteries’ are not nearly as sinister as pseudo-public spaces like More London and Canary Wharf, but we can’t let their ownership go unnoticed. In this pandemic era, where streets appear to be changing rapidly, we can’t forget the importance of publicly owned space. We must remember that just because something is ‘open-air’ does not mean it is open or fair to marginalised communities. If the pre-requisite for being on a specific street is the ability to afford a restaurant, then the street is exacerbating wealth inequalities and perpetuating racist urban planning.
So, while people are waxing lyrical about their new streeteries and you’re dining in the sun in your local ‘up-and-coming’ area, take a second to think. Who are your fellow diners? Are certain people now excluded from the street because of the privatisation and gentrification of public space? Are there parts of the road that are still public and open to everyone? And if so, are these places welcoming of everyone, or are they excluding certain communities through their connections, design, or atmosphere? Streeteries bring a welcome vibrancy, but if public space only serves some, it’s not truly public. For a city to truly thrive, its spaces must be accessible, welcoming, and safe for everyone - because when parts of the community are excluded, the whole city suffers.
Republished 2025. Written by Sepha Schindler for ArchiFeminist in 2020.