tag:theconversation.com,2011:/au/topics/cities-for-everyone-53005/articlesCities for Everyone – The Conversation2018-05-10T20:31:57Ztag:theconversation.com,2011:article/944822018-05-10T20:31:57Z2018-05-10T20:31:57ZSydney’s Chinatown is much more of a modern bridge to Asia than a historic enclave<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/213530/original/file-20180406-125167-1y6xccp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Since the ceremonial entrance arches were installed in 1980, Chinatown has undergone significant redevelopment. </span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/sydney-australia-january-26-2017-chinatown-571655050">TonyNg/Shutterstock.com</a></span></figcaption></figure><p><em>This is the eighth and final article in our series, <a href="https://theconversation.com/au/topics/cities-for-everyone-53005">Cities for Everyone</a>, which explores how members of different communities experience and shape our cities, and how we can create better public spaces for everyone.</em></p>
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<p>Mention “Chinatown” and many people imagine a closed ethnic enclave – a place to immerse oneself in an exotic culture and eat yum cha. In this image, Chinatown is an alien neighbourhood with a traditional culture left behind by the modern city surrounding it. </p>
<p>But this idea of Chinatown no longer fits with today’s urban reality, at least in downtown Sydney. </p>
<p>Rather than a relic of the past, Sydney’s Chinatown is a precinct where Australia’s increasing entanglement with Asia can be seen in the streets. The Chinese-themed urban reserve has morphed into a vibrant powerhouse of Asian-Australian urban modernity and consumer culture. </p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/stephen-fitzgerald-managing-australian-foreign-policy-in-a-chinese-world-74607">Stephen FitzGerald: Managing Australian foreign policy in a Chinese world</a>
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<h2>Anything but an ageing museum piece</h2>
<p>Chinatown today is the result of a series of urban revitalisation projects around Dixon Street in Haymarket. Chinese associations and businesses began settling here from the first half of the 20th century, when the <a href="https://theconversation.com/australian-politics-explainer-the-white-australia-policy-74084">White Australia policy</a> was at its peak.</p>
<p>When this policy ended in the 1970s, the area became an icon of multiculturalism. Dixon Street was closed to traffic and given a “uniquely Chinese” makeover. The two ceremonial arches that marked the area as “Chinatown” were erected in 1980. </p>
<p>By the start of the 21st century, Chinatown was one of Sydney’s most visited tourist attractions. It has since spread way beyond its Dixon Street core. Its population has grown significantly and tall apartment blocks have emerged, including World Square and Market City.</p>
<p>Many of the area’s residents are international students. In 2011, one in every three people living in Chinatown Haymarket was in Sydney to study. As well as those from China and Hong Kong, many others come from Thailand, Indonesia, Korea, Taiwan and on so on. </p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/immigrant-ambassadors-open-doors-for-australia-across-asia-42743">Immigrant ambassadors open doors for Australia across Asia</a>
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<p>The presence of these young people has driven the rejuvenation of Chinatown’s economic and cultural landscape. This is reflected in the growth of quirky small businesses opened by young Asian entrepreneurs. Many of them came to Australia as students and decided to stay. </p>
<p>For example, a Chinese former student used a sponsorship from his family to set up a Sichuan restaurant in north Dixon Street. A Korean former student opened an Asian-style coffee shop in Pitt Street’s “Koreatown”. </p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/little-koreas-could-capitalise-on-sydneys-hottest-entrepreneurs-7263">Little Koreas could capitalise on Sydney's hottest entrepreneurs</a>
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<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/217911/original/file-20180507-46341-1xrbrdh.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/217911/original/file-20180507-46341-1xrbrdh.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/217911/original/file-20180507-46341-1xrbrdh.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=745&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/217911/original/file-20180507-46341-1xrbrdh.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=745&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/217911/original/file-20180507-46341-1xrbrdh.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=745&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/217911/original/file-20180507-46341-1xrbrdh.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=936&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/217911/original/file-20180507-46341-1xrbrdh.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=936&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/217911/original/file-20180507-46341-1xrbrdh.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=936&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
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<span class="caption">UTS’s Gehry building in Haymarket was made possible by a Chinese Australian donor.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/sydney-australia-7-aug-2017-view-773699671?src=uy6Bg70VVW1TJK_7qyvAIQ-1-8">EQRoy/Shutterstock</a></span>
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<p>Chinatown seems to be inspiring entrepreneurs to invent new commodities for consumers eager to engage with an increasingly diverse food and drink culture. A common night out in Chinatown can easily include dinner in a Japanese tapas restaurant, followed by a Hainanese coffee-flavoured gelato made with liquid nitrogen. </p>
<p>Big Asian brands have also chosen to enter Australia by opening branches in Haymarket. These include a popular Taiwanese dumpling house, Din Tai Fung, and the Beijing-originated Peking duck restaurant chain, Quanjude.</p>
<p>Such developments are emblematic of Chinatown Haymarket as a site where Asian urban modernity is introduced into Sydney. Importantly, this modern Asian influence is also evident in the area’s built environment. Prominent examples include:</p>
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<li>the University of Technology’s “Gehry building”, funded by Chinese Australian businessman Dr Chau Chak Wing</li>
<li>the Central Park apartment complex with its vertical gardens, developed by Singaporean property group Frasers on Broadway near Central Station</li>
<li>Greenland Centre, the Chinese state-owned-enterprise-led development of a 235-metre-high residential complex.</li>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/iconic-building-alert-waiting-for-the-frank-gehry-effect-in-sydney-30364">Iconic building alert: waiting for the Frank Gehry effect in Sydney</a>
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<p>These are recent examples of investments from Asia shaping the broader southern CBD. But such interventions are not only a recent phenomenon. In the past two decades, unique architectural styles have emerged and mixed with local Victorian heritage buildings. </p>
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<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/217904/original/file-20180507-166887-18uhtvo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/217904/original/file-20180507-166887-18uhtvo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/217904/original/file-20180507-166887-18uhtvo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=573&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/217904/original/file-20180507-166887-18uhtvo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=573&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/217904/original/file-20180507-166887-18uhtvo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=573&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/217904/original/file-20180507-166887-18uhtvo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=720&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/217904/original/file-20180507-166887-18uhtvo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=720&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/217904/original/file-20180507-166887-18uhtvo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=720&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
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<span class="caption">Market City has been developed with investment from Singapore.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/sydney-australia-on-december-14-2016-775805038?src=wGNn76wjzWv8TZa88mtGKQ-1-17">Shutterstock</a></span>
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<p>Hong Kong’s First Scope Development created Capitol Square shopping centre by restoring part of a heritage site dated 1876. Today, the tiny shopping centre includes a pub on the ground floor and a Japanese-style gaming and photo arcade on the first floor. Taking one of the exits on Campbell Street, patrons find themselves in the middle of a cluster of grocery stores and restaurants forming the recently institutionalised “Thaitown”. </p>
<p>Self-professed “Chinatown shopping centre” Market City, on the corner of Thomas and Hay streets, was bought in 2000 by a Singaporean investor. It has been developed as a three-level mall while preserving part of the structure from the 19th-century red-brick warehouse that hosted Sydney’s historical fruit and vegetable market. </p>
<h2>Growth area needs to find space for the past</h2>
<p>This area of downtown Sydney is undergoing huge infrastructural transformation – such as the George Street light rail, the redevelopment of Darling Harbour and soon the Central Station refurbishment. </p>
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<span class="caption">The challenge is to retain aspects from the history of Chinese settlement amid Chinatown’s modern developments.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/sydney-nsw-australia-june-2nd-2016-782844253?src=sJseT3g-XXKhBqRnSChP2g-1-13">Anthony Leousis/Shutterstock</a></span>
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<p>Some of the local business community believe that height restrictions imposed by the City of Sydney on the core Chinatown area are limiting its economic development. Others in the long-time Chinese Australian community fear that too much development will erase the area’s cultural heritage. There is no museum or cultural centre that tells the story of its historical significance for Chinese settlement in Sydney. </p>
<p>To date, Chinatown’s fine grain and thick texture have been central to its vitality. This is defined by small shops with narrow frontages and mixed use, and multi-storey shopping malls packed with activities: from language school and travel agencies to feng-shui consultants and shops selling garments by Asian independent designers. </p>
<p>Reactivated arcades cross-cut the precinct, hosting a warren of tiny businesses. Connected walkable areas enable pedestrians to traverse Chinatown by various routes. </p>
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<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/217920/original/file-20180507-46341-1yx4k4c.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/217920/original/file-20180507-46341-1yx4k4c.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/217920/original/file-20180507-46341-1yx4k4c.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=502&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/217920/original/file-20180507-46341-1yx4k4c.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=502&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/217920/original/file-20180507-46341-1yx4k4c.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=502&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/217920/original/file-20180507-46341-1yx4k4c.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=631&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/217920/original/file-20180507-46341-1yx4k4c.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=631&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/217920/original/file-20180507-46341-1yx4k4c.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=631&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
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<span class="caption">Jason Wing’s ‘In Between Two Worlds’ is one of the artworks that reflect on the complexity of the city’s identity.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/sydney-australia-on-december-21-2017-779244883?src=tUsQpWROuY6wFW6aQUxI1Q-1-2">ArliftAtoz2205/Shutterstock</a></span>
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<p>Sydney City Council has commissioned works by Asian Australian artists. They have found in the precinct an urban canvas for reflections on the complexity of the city’s increasingly Asian identity. The works include references to Aboriginal and Australian culture, such as Jason Wing’s floating blue angels in Kimber Lane. </p>
<p>In all these respects, Chinatown seems to confidently embrace its role as a bridge, both economic and cultural, between Australia and Asia. It must be hoped that, in planning for this growing precinct, this role will be both highlighted and nurtured, while its past will not be forgotten.</p>
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<p><em>You can find the other articles in the series <a href="https://theconversation.com/au/topics/cities-for-everyone-53005">here</a>.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/94482/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Ien Ang has received funding from the Australian Research Council. </span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Andrea Del Bono has received funding from Western Sydney University, Institute for Culture and Society Postgraduate Award. </span></em></p>Chinatown Haymarket has emerged as an evolving site where Asian urban modernity is introduced into Sydney.Ien Ang, Distinguished Professor of Cultural Studies, Institute for Culture and Society, Western Sydney UniversityAndrea Del Bono, Doctor of Philosophy in Culture and Society, Western Sydney UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/958702018-05-09T20:18:10Z2018-05-09T20:18:10Z‘Sanitised’ nightlife precincts become places where some are not welcome<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/217386/original/file-20180503-83693-1exiqj3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Keeping up appearances at the Gold Bar in Subiaco, Perth. </span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Paul j. Maginn</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span></figcaption></figure><p><em>This is the seventh article in our series, <a href="https://theconversation.com/au/topics/cities-for-everyone-53005">Cities for Everyone</a>, which explores how members of different communities experience and shape our cities, and how we can create better public spaces for everyone.</em></p>
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<p>Nightlife precincts in Australian cities have come under intense scrutiny in recent years following a spate of “one punch” assaults and other incidents. Places like Sydney’s Kings Cross, Brisbane’s Fortitude Valley and Perth’s Northbridge have been framed as unsafe and unruly “problem spaces” – the kind of places that parents warn their teenage children to avoid.</p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/lockout-laws-repeat-centuries-old-mistake-of-denying-value-of-cities-as-messy-places-58281">Lockout laws repeat centuries-old mistake of denying value of cities as messy places</a>
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<p>Simultaneously, local politicians, urban planners and other policymakers have been <a href="http://www.cityofsydney.nsw.gov.au/vision/towards-2030/business-and-economy/sydney-at-night/night-time-economy">spruiking</a> the importance of the <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/news/2017-04-27/24-hour-cities-why-planners-taking-night-time-economy-seriously/8472062">night-time economy</a> to a city’s image and growth. A “vibrant” nightlife is seen as essential for attracting tourism and investment and creating jobs. If a city can get itself on some kind of “<a href="https://www.timeout.com/london/citylifeindex/best-most-exciting-cities-in-the-world-2018">Most Exciting Cities in the World</a>” list, this becomes a crucial part of its city boosterism strategy.</p>
<p>The championing and criticism of nightlife spaces create something of a paradox. On the one hand, the promotion of vibrant nightlife spaces may be seen as an invitation to people to revel and consume. It’s thought that failing to attract enough people to these spaces spells economic disaster for venue operators and for the city itself. </p>
<p>On the other hand, violence and fear discourage or exclude people from participating in nightlife. And labelling nightlife precincts as disorderly or “out of control” stigmatises these spaces and revellers, leading to more exclusion.</p>
<p>The policy challenge is to establish the right amount and types of regulation so that nightlife spaces allow for mild transgression in a safe environment.</p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/beyond-lockouts-sydney-needs-to-become-a-more-inclusive-city-55821">Beyond lockouts: Sydney needs to become a more inclusive city</a>
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<h2>When security excludes</h2>
<p>Part of the response to these issues has been tighter regulation and security in nightlife spaces. “Lockout laws” were <a href="https://www.keepsydneyopen.com/#about">controversially</a> introduced in parts of Sydney, following the example set in <a href="https://www.theherald.com.au/story/5070979/newcastles-lockout-laws-to-be-reviewed-nearly-a-decade-after-the-newcastle-solution/">Newcastle</a> and in trials in Perth, Melbourne and Brisbane. These laws wound back the operating hours of licensed venues in popular night-time precincts. </p>
<p>Other responses from governments and private operators have included expanding CCTV surveillance, introducing ID scanners at venue entrances, increasing police and private security presence, and slowing or suspending the issuing of new liquor licenses.</p>
<p>These measures are intended to make people safer and to make them <em>feel</em> safer, to reduce the exclusionary effect of fear. Ironically, these hyper-visible forms of security can in fact make people <a href="https://theconversation.com/to-create-safer-cities-for-everyone-we-need-to-avoid-security-that-threatens-93421">feel more unsafe</a>. </p>
<p>These regulatory interventions are more than just about tackling violence and threatening behaviour. Ultimately, they are about imposing particular ideas of social and moral order not only within nightlife spaces but the city more broadly.</p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/suburbanising-the-centre-the-baird-governments-anti-urban-agenda-for-sydney-55754">Suburbanising the centre: the Baird government's anti-urban agenda for Sydney</a>
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<h2>Gentrifying the night</h2>
<p>Alongside the expansion of hyper-visible security, major public and private investment has flowed into nightlife precincts and surrounding areas over the last decade or so. </p>
<p>In Perth, as we have <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/08111146.2018.1460266">recently outlined</a>, the impacts couldn’t be clearer. Four major redevelopment projects – <a href="https://www.mra.wa.gov.au/projects-and-places/new-northbridge">New Northbridge</a>, <a href="https://www.mra.wa.gov.au/projects-and-places/perth-cultural-centre">Perth Cultural Centre</a>, <a href="https://www.mra.wa.gov.au/projects-and-places/perth-city-link">Perth City Link</a> and <a href="https://www.mra.wa.gov.au/projects-and-places/yagan-square">Yagan Square</a> – have drastically reshaped the built form and sense of place within the inner city. </p>
<p>These developments have “<a href="https://www.pressreader.com/australia/the-west-australian/20170204/281706909414863">changed the face</a>” of Northbridge, which has been gradually gentrifying. The rapid rise in the number of small boutique bars, high-end restaurants and apartments is evidence of this.</p>
<p>The gentrification of Northbridge and other nightlife precincts across metropolitan Australia – whether through new “sophisticated” venues replacing older downmarket ones, or through <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/news/2016-08-31/sydney-kings-cross-changing-amid-gentification-and-lockout-laws/7801502">residential development</a> displacing nightlife altogether – is not a recipe for less exclusionary spaces. Rather, these developments produce a different kind of exclusion due to two factors. </p>
<p>First, certain groups may be priced out of more upmarket venues offering an “exclusive” or “sophisticated” experience. Second, these venues and the types of customers they attract can make other individuals and groups feel out of place. If they don’t fit the written and unwritten admission criteria they may be denied entry altogether.</p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/factcheck-did-the-northbridge-wa-curfew-see-a-dramatic-drop-in-crime-87016">FactCheck: did the Northbridge WA curfew see a 'dramatic drop' in crime?</a>
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<h2>Making space for transgression</h2>
<p>In reshaping the moral geography of nightlife precincts, securitisation and gentrification are suppressing one of the fundamental appeals of nightlife – the opportunity for behaviour that transgresses social, cultural and even legal codes. </p>
<p>Participating in nightlife spaces in cities has been a way to briefly escape the often mundane orderliness of everyday home and work life. Nightlife spaces have historically been important for minority, subcultural and countercultural groups – <a href="https://theconversation.com/big-city-gaybourhoods-where-they-come-from-and-why-they-still-matter-93956">LGBTGI communities</a>, minority ethnic groups, punks, goths, <a href="https://www.routledge.com/SubUrban-Sexscapes-Geographies-and-Regulation-of-the-Sex-Industry/Maginn-Steinmetz/p/book/9780415855280">fetishists</a> and so on – to socialise and to express their individual and collective identities.</p>
<p>The increasingly expensive cost and overbearing regulatory regimes governing nightlife seem designed to attract the “right type” of people and to make them feel safer. </p>
<p>The risk of all this is that we might be sleepwalking into the creation of sanitised and yet more homogenous and exclusionary nightlife spaces.</p>
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<p><em>You can find the other articles in the series <a href="https://theconversation.com/au/topics/cities-for-everyone-53005">here</a>.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/95870/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Alistair Sisson receives funding from an Australian Government Research Training Program Scholarship.</span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Paul J. Maginn does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Ultimately, most regulatory interventions in nightlife precincts are about imposing particular ideas of social and moral order not only within these spaces but also in the city more broadly.Alistair Sisson, PhD Candidate, Urban Geography, University of SydneyPaul J. Maginn, Associate Professor of Urban/Regional Planning, The University of Western AustraliaLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/923512018-05-08T20:15:21Z2018-05-08T20:15:21ZIndigenous communities are reworking urban planning, but planners need to accept their history<p><em>This is the sixth article in our series, <a href="https://theconversation.com/au/topics/cities-for-everyone-53005">Cities for Everyone</a>, which explores how members of different communities experience and shape our cities, and how we can create better public spaces for everyone.</em></p>
<hr>
<p>Nearly 80% of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people in Australia <a href="http://www.abs.gov.au/ausstats/abs@.nsf/Lookup/by%20Subject/2071.0%7E2016%7EMain%20Features%7EAboriginal%20and%20Torres%20Strait%20Islander%20Population%20Article%7E12">live in urban areas</a> but cities often exclude and marginalise them. </p>
<p>Urban planning and policy have been central to this, and the harms can be seen in key moments and processes that have shaped Australia’s urban environments. </p>
<p>Today, Indigenous people continue to be seen as <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/cities/2018/apr/09/indigenous-people-are-being-displaced-again-by-gentrification-aboriginal-redfern-west-end-fitzroy">“out of place” in the city</a>. Their rights and interests remain largely invisible in urban history, policy and planning practice. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/how-can-we-meaningfully-recognise-cities-as-indigenous-places-65561">How can we meaningfully recognise cities as Indigenous places?</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>To rectify the unequal place of Indigenous peoples in our cities and work towards urban land justice, we need to consider the planning processes that have contributed to the marginalisation of Indigenous people over the course of Australian history.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/217393/original/file-20180503-153891-fs7mij.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/217393/original/file-20180503-153891-fs7mij.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/217393/original/file-20180503-153891-fs7mij.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/217393/original/file-20180503-153891-fs7mij.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/217393/original/file-20180503-153891-fs7mij.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/217393/original/file-20180503-153891-fs7mij.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/217393/original/file-20180503-153891-fs7mij.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/217393/original/file-20180503-153891-fs7mij.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The draining of the West Melbourne Swamp, a significant wetland for Aboriginal people, began in the 1870s under the supervision of the Public Works Department.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="http://handle.slv.vic.gov.au/10381/93001">Henry L Cox (Henry Laird)/SLV</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>Planning segregation and assimilation</h2>
<p>Planning has long imagined that social problems can be resolved through spatial organisation and design. It is an activity that occurred even before the profession of “planning” emerged in the 20th century.</p>
<p>The earliest activities of Australian settlement dismissed Indigenous systems of law and governance. Colonial agents such as surveyors, cartographers, Aboriginal protectors and governors sought to remove people from growing towns. They used maps, zones and boundaries to control Indigenous peoples’ movement and to symbolically erase their connections with landscapes.</p>
<p>Populations were segregated on the basis of race as small Aboriginal reserves were established, supposedly to “protect and civilise” Indigenous people. As expanding cities consumed more land and became denser, white anxiety about the threat of disease grew. </p>
<p>But these concerns did not consider the living conditions of the Indigenous nations. Aboriginal people were considered a “threat” to public health. In the minds of officials, this called for their containment and surveillance in reserves, which were pushed further away from urban areas, becoming smaller and more neglected.</p>
<p>Town boundaries were drawn and curfews set to regulate when and where Indigenous people used urban space. These were widely adopted practices. In places like Brisbane, Darwin, Perth and Broome, boundaries were used to control the movement, as well as economic and social opportunities, of Aboriginal people for decades. These practices extended well into the 20th century.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/217673/original/file-20180504-153884-1rs4tvn.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/217673/original/file-20180504-153884-1rs4tvn.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/217673/original/file-20180504-153884-1rs4tvn.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=247&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/217673/original/file-20180504-153884-1rs4tvn.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=247&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/217673/original/file-20180504-153884-1rs4tvn.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=247&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/217673/original/file-20180504-153884-1rs4tvn.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=310&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/217673/original/file-20180504-153884-1rs4tvn.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=310&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/217673/original/file-20180504-153884-1rs4tvn.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=310&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Coranderrk was one of six reserves in Victoria made to contain, regulate, civilise, convert to Christianity and oversee Aboriginal people.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="http://search.slv.vic.gov.au/primo_library/libweb/action/dlDisplay.do?vid=MAIN&search_scope=default_scope&docId=SLV_VOYAGER1809813&fn=permalink">State Library of Victoria</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>As Australian Indigenous policy shifted away from segregation towards assimilation, planning reflected and enacted this change. Reserves close to towns were closed and sold off. <a href="http://coranderrk.com/wordpress/">Coranderrk</a> Reserve near Melbourne was closed in 1924. In the 1950s, the Kahlin Compound in Darwin was closed and its population moved to the more distant Bagot Reserve. </p>
<p>Aboriginal people were compelled to move out of these now-isolated reserves and back into urban areas. Inner-city suburbs, such as Redfern in Sydney and <a href="http://aboriginalhistoryofyarra.com.au/SnapshotsofAboriginalFitzroy.pdf">Fitzroy</a> in Melbourne, became important places for sustaining social and political communities.</p>
<p>These inner-urban sites and communities were swept up in the wider urban renewal agenda that redeveloped cities through rezoning and the provision of new public housing. This was seen as way to resolve poverty. </p>
<p>Yet as the 1997 <a href="https://www.humanrights.gov.au/our-work/aboriginal-and-torres-strait-islander-social-justice/publications/bringing-them-home-stolen">Bringing Them Home</a> report noted:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>The provision of public housing for Indigenous families brought them into conflict with government authorities and thereby at increased risk of having their children taken. For example, strict limits on visitors staying in public housing and restrictions on the number of family members that could live together took no account of Indigenous family and community relationships.</p>
</blockquote>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/217447/original/file-20180503-153878-7jck35.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/217447/original/file-20180503-153878-7jck35.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/217447/original/file-20180503-153878-7jck35.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/217447/original/file-20180503-153878-7jck35.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/217447/original/file-20180503-153878-7jck35.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/217447/original/file-20180503-153878-7jck35.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/217447/original/file-20180503-153878-7jck35.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/217447/original/file-20180503-153878-7jck35.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Aboriginal communities maintained a strong presence in Fitzroy and Collingwood until the 1950s, when the Housing Commission demolished large ‘slum’ areas and relocated their occupants.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Housing_Commission_High_Rise_Collingwood.JPG">Nick Carson/Wikipedia</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/">CC BY</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Urban policy and planning <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/sustainable-business/2016/nov/22/can-indigenous-culture-ever-coexist-with-urban-planning">continue to perpetuate</a> the perception that Indigenous people have no authentic place in urban areas.</p>
<p>However, none of these discriminatory policies and practices has ever gone <a href="https://www.sbs.com.au/nitv/article/2016/06/24/jenny-munro-brings-tent-embassy-back-redfern">unchallenged by Indigenous people</a>. While it remains very difficult for Aboriginal peoples whose traditional country is now urbanised to achieve land justice, innovative solutions are being found in the face of these challenges.</p>
<h2>Towards urban land justice</h2>
<p>Indigenous-led initiatives under way today show how communities are reworking planning to achieve their aspirations. The land use agreements negotiated by the Yawuru native title holders of the Broome area provide a framework for reclaiming and using planning to realise <a href="http://www.yawuru.com/our-organisation/nyamba-buru-yawuru-about/">local visions</a> for commercial and residential development. <a href="http://iadv.org.au">Indigenous Architecture Design Victoria</a> is leading new ways of planning and designing built environments.</p>
<p>Within the planning profession, this critical issue is starting to gain more attention. The Queensland government has <a href="https://landscapeaustralia.com/articles/indigenous-rights-in-land-use-planning-strengthened-in-queensland/">passed legislation</a> that acknowledges that planning should value, protect and promote Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander knowledges, values and traditions. </p>
<p>The Planning Institute of Australia adopted an <a href="https://www.planning.org.au/documents/item/48">education policy</a> in 2016 that calls for all accredited tertiary planning degrees to address the relationship between Indigenous peoples and planning. This requires teachers and students to engage more deeply with the histories, theories and ethics of the profession. These are welcome early steps. </p>
<p>In the long term, advancing a genuine and just relationship between planning and Indigenous peoples means sharing the right to shape the course of urban development and to define what the problems are and what values matter. Planning thinking, methods, approaches and practice must continue to shift to support that aspiration.</p>
<hr>
<p><em>Libby Porter, Sue Jackson and Louise Johnson are authors of a recent book, <a href="https://www.routledge.com/Planning-in-Indigenous-Australia-From-Imperial-Foundations-to-Postcolonial/Jackson-Porter-Johnson/p/book/9781138909984">Planning in Indigenous Australia: From imperial foundations to postcolonial futures</a>.</em></p>
<p><em>You can find the other articles in the series <a href="https://theconversation.com/au/topics/cities-for-everyone-53005">here</a>.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/92351/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Libby Porter receives funding from Australia Research Council. </span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Louise Clare Johnson and Sue Jackson do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>While planning policies and practices have contributed to marginalising Indigenous people, planners can now work with them to ensure they have their rightful say in shaping Australian communities.Libby Porter, Vice-Chancellor's Principal Research Fellow, RMIT UniversityLouise Clare Johnson, Professor of Australian Studies and Geography, Deakin UniversitySue Jackson, Professor, ARC Future Fellow, Griffith UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/934192018-05-06T20:10:28Z2018-05-06T20:10:28ZWe can’t just leave it to the NDIS to create cities that work to include people with disability<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/216736/original/file-20180428-135837-gs1cre.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=5%2C16%2C2826%2C2280&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption"></span> </figcaption></figure><p><em>This is the fifth article in our series, <a href="https://theconversation.com/au/topics/cities-for-everyone-53005">Cities for Everyone</a>, which explores how members of different communities experience and shape our cities, and how we can create better public spaces for everyone.</em></p>
<hr>
<p>For the National Disability Insurance Scheme to be successful, our cities will need to change. </p>
<p>Our <a href="https://sustainable.unimelb.edu.au/research/research-projects/the-disability-inclusive-city">new research</a> explores the impacts that the NDIS is having on Australia’s cities.</p>
<p>A major goal of the NDIS is to improve participation in mainstream services by people with disability. The success of the scheme will depend on how well it achieves this. </p>
<p>But the responsibility for change should be shared far more broadly – mainstream services must actively transform themselves to become more inclusive.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/three-charts-on-disability-discrimination-in-the-workplace-85183">Three charts on: disability discrimination in the workplace</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>Functioning cities rely on a variety of health, education, welfare, sports and community services. These services are essential to the wellbeing and social inclusion of diverse people in our cities. </p>
<p>But despite being called “mainstream”, these services are never equally open to all members of society. Relentless privatisation of previously public programs and facilities has arguably undermined their capacity to provide services to users with “challenging” or “costly” needs. </p>
<p>The chair of the National People with Disabilities and Carer Council, Rhonda Galbally, has <a href="https://www.dss.gov.au/our-responsibilities/disability-and-carers/publications-articles/policy-research/shut-out-the-experience-of-people-with-disabilities-and-their-families-in-australia?HTML">observed</a>:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>For many years people with disabilities found themselves shut in — hidden away in large institutions. Now many people with disabilities find themselves shut out — shut out of buildings, homes, schools, businesses, sports and community groups. They find themselves shut out of our way of life.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>To ensure people with disability are included in our way of life, mainstream services and the wider community, along with the NDIS, will need to contribute to reshaping our cities.</p>
<p></p><hr><p></p>
<iframe src="https://public.tableau.com/shared/X9NK76462?:showVizHome=no&:embed=true"" width="100%" height="750" \=""></iframe>
<p></p><hr><p></p>
<h2>When accessibility fails, people are shut out</h2>
<p>People with disability face particular barriers to participating in mainstream services. Under Australian <a href="https://www.legislation.gov.au/Series/C2004A04426">law</a>, newly built or upgraded public spaces and premises must meet national accessible design standards. But even facilities designed to be accessible will fail in this if they are not well managed.</p>
<p>Frequently closed accessible checkout lanes at the supermarket and accessible toilets that are kept locked or used for storage are common <a href="https://www.humanrights.gov.au/employers/good-practice-good-business-factsheets/access-all-improving-accessibility-consumers">examples</a> of poor management. </p>
<p>Matters of accessibility are often discussed in relation to wheelchair users. However, people with disability are a diverse population and experience many forms of exclusion. </p>
<p>For example, communication barriers arise when information needed to use a service is not presented in comprehensible ways. The pace of activity in mainstream spaces is another potential barrier that can make people with disability feel unwelcome and excluded.</p>
<p>Staff in mainstream services are often unskilled in providing service to people with disability. This can prevent people with disability from using a service, leading to poor and even harmful outcomes. One recent example is the evidence of <a href="http://ebmh.bmj.com/content/19/2/62">overprescription of antipsychotic drugs</a> to people with intellectual disability in mainstream health services. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/change-agents-rhonda-galbally-and-bruce-bonyhady-on-the-birth-of-the-ndis-63662">Change Agents: Rhonda Galbally and Bruce Bonyhady on the birth of the NDIS</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>Can the NDIS alone deliver on the promise of participation?</h2>
<p>The NDIS will fund a wide range of specialist disability services, but “<a href="https://www.ndis.gov.au/people-disability/connecting-mainstream">wherever possible</a>” will help participants access mainstream systems. This includes training and personal assistance to build participants’ capacity to use these services. The <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/02680939.2017.1280185?scroll=top&needAccess=true&journalCode=tedp20">majority of NDIS participants’ plans</a> include funding assistance for access to mainstream services. </p>
<p>In addition, the NDIS will seek to “encourage mainstream services and community organisations to <a href="https://www.ndis.gov.au/html/sites/default/files/LAC-working-together.docx">become more inclusive</a>”.</p>
<p>The NDIS thus has a critical role to play in enhancing mainstream participation. It will be important to collect evidence about the effectiveness of its interventions. However, meaningful change will only occur if mainstream services themselves take action to become more inclusive. </p>
<p>It is not enough for services to avoid direct and intentional discrimination. It is also not enough to passively “accept” people with disability as service users. Mainstream services providers need to initiate internal changes to become more inclusive of people with disability. </p>
<p>Services will have to ensure staff are skilled up, redesign spaces and revise approaches to communication. Service users without disability will also need to adjust the ways they participate in services. </p>
<p>The most meaningful participation will be achieved when people with disability and those close to them are actively engaged in planning these changes and exerting their “<a href="https://theconversation.com/will-habitat-iii-defend-the-human-right-to-the-city-57576">right to the city</a>”. In addition, a body of research evidence on inclusive adjustments in mainstream services will need to be built.</p>
<p>Most of these changes and challenges will occur in Australia’s cities. But the task will be no less challenging in regional areas where services are often undersupplied and <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/news/2018-05-01/third-of-ndis-participants-feel-no-better-off/9716282">geographically distant</a>. Local and state governments have a critical role to play as funders, providers and regulators of mainstream services, to lead and drive these adjustments.</p>
<p>Many mainstream services are already badly underfunded and under pressure from competing demands from diverse users. Rather than compete with each other for scarce resources, alliances of users with and without disability must campaign together to revive the public services sector and make it more inclusive for all Australians.</p>
<p>Legislation will also need to be reviewed. Current law requires services to make minimal “reasonable” adjustments in order to avoid discrimination based on a person’s disability. More progressive legislation would require mainstream services to make <em>exceptional</em> adjustments so that people with disability are treated as equals while their differences are recognised and accommodated.</p>
<p>If the NDIS, governments, services and the wider community all play their parts, people with disability will experience greater participation in their community. This will enrich not only their lives but those of others. Australian cities and regions would benefit from the contributions of people with disability to their social, cultural and economic vitality.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/ndis-needs-the-market-to-help-make-up-at-least-60-shortfall-in-specialist-disability-housing-93479">NDIS needs the market to help make up at least 60% shortfall in specialist disability housing</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p><em>You can find the other articles in the series <a href="https://theconversation.com/au/topics/cities-for-everyone-53005">here</a>.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/93419/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Ilan Wiesel receives funding from the Australian Research Council. He previously received funding from the Australian Housing and Urban Research Institute. </span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Brendan Gleeson receives funding from Australian Research Council and the UK Economic and Social Research Council.</span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Carolyn Whitzman receives funding from the Lord Mayor's Charitable Foundation, Launch Housing, and the Brotherhood of St. Laurence for the project "Transforming Housing" (2016-19). She received an Australian Development Research Award (ADRA0900205 from the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade for the project 'Travelling Together: Disability Inclusive Road Development in Papua New Guinea' (2010-13).</span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Christine Bigby receives funding from the Australian Research Council, through research partnerships with various non government disability service providers, and from various government departments such as the Victorian Electoral Commission and NSW Family and Community Services. </span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Ellen van Holstein volunteers with Inclusion Melbourne</span></em></p>The NDIS is set to reshape Australian cities. But to achieve meaningful participation of people with disabilities, urban communities and services will also need to take action.Ilan Wiesel, Senior Lecturer in Urban Geography, The University of MelbourneBrendan Gleeson, Director, Melbourne Sustainable Society Institute, The University of MelbourneCarolyn Whitzman, Adjunct Professor, Department of Geography, Environments, Geomatics, L’Université d’Ottawa/University of OttawaChristine Bigby, Director, Living with Disability Research Centre, La Trobe UniversityEllen van Holstein, Research Fellow in Urban Geography, The University of MelbourneLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/930622018-05-03T20:20:08Z2018-05-03T20:20:08ZMelbourne’s ‘doughnut city’ housed its homeless<p><em>This is the fourth article in our series, <a href="https://theconversation.com/au/topics/cities-for-everyone-53005">Cities for Everyone</a>, which explores how members of different communities experience and shape our cities, and how we can create better public spaces for everyone.</em></p>
<hr>
<p>Revitalisation projects aimed at increasing residential populations in inner urban areas since the 1980s have resulted in almost wholesale expulsion of the marginally housed. The now mythic “doughnut city” that Melbournians became so embarrassed about, and so proud to repopulate, was in fact a city that housed its homeless.</p>
<p>The critic <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/books/2017/jan/02/john-berger-obituary">John Berger</a> observed:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>The 20th-century consumer economy has produced the first culture for which a beggar is a reminder of nothing. </p>
</blockquote>
<p>We might ponder his concern in the Australian city today where the homeless have never been more visible and yet so ignored in mainstream urban discussion.</p>
<p>Infrastructure Australia’s recent report, <a href="http://infrastructureaustralia.gov.au/policy-publications/publications/future-cities.aspx">Future Cities: Planning for our growing population</a>, doesn’t mention homelessness once. This is sadly typical of major urban policy statements in the past few decades, many of which have championed inner-city renewal. </p>
<h2>From doughnut city to cafe society</h2>
<p>Melbourne, like most Western cities, experienced population decline in its core from the 1960s as relentless suburbanisation drew population outwards.</p>
<p>In 1977, the Melbourne Metropolitan Board of Works chairman, Alan Croxford, <a href="https://trove.nla.gov.au/version/44976437">lamented</a>:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Melbourne’s trend towards a ‘doughnut’ type of development is revealing the first signs of serious problems experienced in other cities of the world. </p>
</blockquote>
<figure class="align-left zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/212173/original/file-20180327-109193-1ujvgrb.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/212173/original/file-20180327-109193-1ujvgrb.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/212173/original/file-20180327-109193-1ujvgrb.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=726&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212173/original/file-20180327-109193-1ujvgrb.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=726&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212173/original/file-20180327-109193-1ujvgrb.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=726&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212173/original/file-20180327-109193-1ujvgrb.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=912&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212173/original/file-20180327-109193-1ujvgrb.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=912&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212173/original/file-20180327-109193-1ujvgrb.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=912&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The Department of Infrastructure’s 1998 report, From Doughnut City to Café Society.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Similarly, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jan_Gehl">Jan Ghel</a> describes Melbourne in the 1970s as a “<a href="http://assemblepapers.com.au/2013/06/13/cities-for-people-jan-gehl/">neutron-bombed</a>” city. The architectural commentator Norman Day portrayed it as “<a href="https://www.domain.com.au/news/future-cbd-hong-kong-without-the-beauty-20130821-2sa72/">an empty useless city centre</a>”. </p>
<p>The “doughnut” trope certainly stuck in the planning imagination. Urban strategies and programs in the 1990s were decidedly aimed at reintroducing a residential population and revitalising the city centre. </p>
<p>The <a href="http://www.melbourne.vic.gov.au/arts-and-culture/city-gallery/exhibition-archive/Pages/Postcode-3000---A-city-transformed.aspx">Postcode 3000</a> program and the Keys to the City campaign were a resounding success. Residential accommodation in central Melbourne increased from 738 units in the 1980s to 9,895 units by 2002. The figure today is nearly 30,000 units. </p>
<p>This renaissance has been retailed and celebrated globally. It is, however, partial truth. The uplift was certainly not felt by all.</p>
<h2>Melbourne when relief was cheap</h2>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/212174/original/file-20180327-109193-p7cbuv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/212174/original/file-20180327-109193-p7cbuv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=472&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212174/original/file-20180327-109193-p7cbuv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=472&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212174/original/file-20180327-109193-p7cbuv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=472&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212174/original/file-20180327-109193-p7cbuv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=593&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212174/original/file-20180327-109193-p7cbuv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=593&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212174/original/file-20180327-109193-p7cbuv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=593&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Gordon House Lodgings in Little Bourke Street, in the late 1960s, had about 500 beds.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Alan Jordan/State Library of Victoria</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<figure class="align-right zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/212175/original/file-20180327-109182-cj27t9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/212175/original/file-20180327-109182-cj27t9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/212175/original/file-20180327-109182-cj27t9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=677&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212175/original/file-20180327-109182-cj27t9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=677&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212175/original/file-20180327-109182-cj27t9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=677&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212175/original/file-20180327-109182-cj27t9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=851&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212175/original/file-20180327-109182-cj27t9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=851&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212175/original/file-20180327-109182-cj27t9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=851&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Relocated to Lorimer Street, Gordon House had about 300 beds.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Graeme Butler, 1982</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<figure class="align-right zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/212179/original/file-20180327-109182-9nqpt4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/212179/original/file-20180327-109182-9nqpt4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/212179/original/file-20180327-109182-9nqpt4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=478&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212179/original/file-20180327-109182-9nqpt4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=478&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212179/original/file-20180327-109182-9nqpt4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=478&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212179/original/file-20180327-109182-9nqpt4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=600&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212179/original/file-20180327-109182-9nqpt4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=600&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212179/original/file-20180327-109182-9nqpt4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=600&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Aerial view of Gordon House on South Wharf, 1979.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Wolfgang Sievers/National Library of Australia</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<figure class="align-right zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/214444/original/file-20180412-549-19unoty.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/214444/original/file-20180412-549-19unoty.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/214444/original/file-20180412-549-19unoty.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/214444/original/file-20180412-549-19unoty.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/214444/original/file-20180412-549-19unoty.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/214444/original/file-20180412-549-19unoty.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/214444/original/file-20180412-549-19unoty.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/214444/original/file-20180412-549-19unoty.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Aerial view of South Wharf showing the Melbourne Exhibition Centre, built in 1996, located where Gordon House used to be.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/popcorncx/155407300/">Stephen Edmonds/Flickr</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/">CC BY-SA</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The “doughnut city” in fact offered cheap accommodation for the marginal and homeless. This included night shelters, rooming houses, private residential hotels, and crisis accommodation. </p>
<p>Gauging the exact number of low-cost beds in the inner city at this time is difficult. Homeless population estimates and reported losses in crisis and transitional housing during this period give us some idea. </p>
<p><a href="https://trove.nla.gov.au/version/45881035">Alan Jordan’s</a> seminal work on Melbourne’s inner-city homeless population in 1973 noted: “… at any given time in the period there were at least 3,000 and probably 4,000 homeless men within two or three miles of the centre of Melbourne who were currently using night shelters, lodging houses and handouts”.</p>
<p>A <a href="https://trove.nla.gov.au/version/39840716">1984 report on the City of Melbourne</a> and its homeless indicated that about 3,700 rooming house rooms were available for rent. These housed an estimated 4,500 people.</p>
<p>In 1990, <a href="https://trove.nla.gov.au/version/7352771">a report by the Council for Homeless Persons and the Victorian Council of Churches</a> estimated that each night, within 5 kilometres of the GPO, there were 4,000 people in large rooming houses and private hotels, 930 in crisis accommodation, and 530 in squats and sleeping rough. The report estimated that rooming house stock had shrunk by 48% in the seven years from 1981 to 1988. </p>
<p>The erosion of low-cost accommodation in the 1980s and ’90s made way for the repopulation of inner Melbourne. A <a href="https://trove.nla.gov.au/work/8662720">1998 study on rough sleeping</a> commissioned by the City of Melbourne reported an overall reduction of 78% in short-term housing stock between 1987 and 1997. This amounted to the loss of 1,400 crisis accommodation and low-cost hotel beds. </p>
<p>This transitional housing was hardly ideal, but its loss deprived homeless people of temporary shelter and no doubt contributed to burgeoning numbers of rough sleepers. It also signifies that Melbourne’s “doughnut city” was never entirely hollowed out. It offered relief to, and was occupied by, the homeless.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/homeless-numbers-will-keep-rising-until-governments-change-course-on-housing-93417">Homeless numbers will keep rising until governments change course on housing</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>More homeless, more visible</h2>
<figure class="align-right zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/212180/original/file-20180327-109196-1pxizul.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/212180/original/file-20180327-109196-1pxizul.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/212180/original/file-20180327-109196-1pxizul.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=746&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212180/original/file-20180327-109196-1pxizul.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=746&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212180/original/file-20180327-109196-1pxizul.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=746&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212180/original/file-20180327-109196-1pxizul.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=938&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212180/original/file-20180327-109196-1pxizul.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=938&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212180/original/file-20180327-109196-1pxizul.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=938&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Remnants of Melbourne’s Skid Row: Three private hotels on the corner of Spencer and Flinders streets had about 268 low-cost rooms, early 1980s.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Public Record Office Victoria</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<figure class="align-right zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/212182/original/file-20180327-109193-18z8gq9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/212182/original/file-20180327-109193-18z8gq9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/212182/original/file-20180327-109193-18z8gq9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=413&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212182/original/file-20180327-109193-18z8gq9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=413&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212182/original/file-20180327-109193-18z8gq9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=413&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212182/original/file-20180327-109193-18z8gq9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=519&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212182/original/file-20180327-109193-18z8gq9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=519&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212182/original/file-20180327-109193-18z8gq9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=519&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Sir Charles Hotham Hotel on Skid Row, which sold last year for a speculated $30 million.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Melbourne History Workshop</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Recently released 2016 Census results estimate about <a href="http://www.abs.gov.au/AUSSTATS/abs@.nsf/Lookup/2049.0Main+Features12016?OpenDocument">116,000 people are homeless</a> on any given night in Australia. Rough sleepers represent just 7% of the homeless population, but are <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/news/2018-02-09/curious-melbourne-causes-of-homelessness-increase/9400502">increasingly visible</a> in Australian cities. </p>
<p>In Melbourne, the increasing visibility of homelessness sits jarringly alongside its growing prestige as a thriving, culturally diverse and vibrant city. <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2017/aug/16/melbourne-worlds-most-liveable-city-for-seventh-year-running">Being crowned the world’s “most liveable city”</a> seven years in a row has helped to resurrect the narrative of “Marvellous Melbourne”. </p>
<p>Significant work has been done over this time to provide specialist homelessness services and support in the inner city. But accompanying low-cost accommodation to house the users of these services has become ever more residual. With about <a href="http://www.housing.vic.gov.au/file/3301/">36,000 applicants on the social housing register</a>, and <a href="https://theconversation.com/homeless-numbers-will-keep-rising-until-governments-change-course-on-housing-93417">very little increase in supply</a>, the demand for crisis and transitional accommodation is mounting. </p>
<iframe src="https://datawrapper.dwcdn.net/znqb6/1/" scrolling="no" frameborder="0" allowtransparency="true" width="100%" height="400"></iframe>
<h2>Urban renaissance, a mixed tale</h2>
<p>Urban redevelopment and displacement are intertwined trends familiar to many cities around the world. As with Melbourne, these revitalisation stories are often partial accounts, which smother more subjugated histories of a city. </p>
<p>By celebrating the demise of a doughnut city and its replacement by a superior café society, “liveable Melbourne” overlooks the vast dispersal that made way for a residential population that reinforces the commercial prospects of the city. The previous, more marginal city dwellers are simply abandoned. <a href="https://www.theage.com.au/politics/victoria/vulnerable-public-housing-tenants-in-limbo-as-redevelopments-proceed-20180401-p4z7br.html">Versions of this are recurring today</a>. </p>
<p>None of this is to wish a return to the past but to remind us of what can be lost in contemporary urban narratives – in this case Melbourne’s history of homeless occupation and subsequent displacement.</p>
<p>To heed Berger, the swelling of homelessness should remind us of the property dysfunction and spatial injustice that underlie our cities’ seeming prosperity. We can celebrate successes, but must also concede that urban renaissance is often a mixed tale of blinding optimism for the elite and cruel loss for the poor. Planning for future cities ought to take more care. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/voices-of-residents-missing-in-a-time-of-crisis-for-public-housing-93655">Voices of residents missing in a time of crisis for public housing</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p><em>You can find other articles in the series <a href="https://theconversation.com/au/topics/cities-for-everyone-53005">here</a>.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/93062/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Brendan Gleeson receives funding from Australian Research Council and the UK Economic and Social Research Council.</span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Claire Collie does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>When the city centre was revitalised in the 1990s, homeless people were pushed out. With homelessness rising today, it’s important to recognise the links between urban development and displacement.Claire Collie, PhD candidate in Urban Planning, The University of MelbourneBrendan Gleeson, Director, Melbourne Sustainable Society Institute, The University of MelbourneLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/939562018-05-02T20:20:24Z2018-05-02T20:20:24ZBig city gaybourhoods: where they come from and why they still matter<p><em>This is the third article in our series, <a href="https://theconversation.com/au/topics/cities-for-everyone-53005">Cities for Everyone</a>, which explores how members of different communities experience and shape our cities, and how we can create better public spaces for everyone.</em></p>
<hr>
<p>In London, there is Soho; in New York, Chelsea and Greenwich Village; and in San Francisco, there is the Castro. In <a href="https://www.newsouthbooks.com.au/books/gay-sydney/">Sydney</a>, there is Darlinghurst and, more specifically, Oxford Street. These are neighbourhoods of large cities that have, since at least the 1950s and often earlier, developed a reputation as queer spaces. </p>
<p>In more recent years, those reputations have <a href="http://www.australianreview.net/digest/2015/04/mckinnon.html">begun to fade</a> and the enduring meanings of the “gaybourhood” have come into question. </p>
<p>But what each of these places represents is the centrality of urban space to the emergence of visible, “out and proud” lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer identities and communities.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/friday-essay-on-the-sydney-mardi-gras-march-of-1978-54337">Friday essay: on the Sydney Mardi Gras march of 1978</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>Queer Sydney in the ‘Golden Mile’ era</h2>
<p>The peak years of Oxford Street’s queer life extended from the mid-1970s until the mid-1990s. In the years after the second world war, many gay men in Sydney socialised in CBD hotels, including the <a href="https://dictionaryofsydney.org/entry/hotel_australia">Hotel Australia</a>. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/215505/original/file-20180419-163971-8935d7.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/215505/original/file-20180419-163971-8935d7.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/215505/original/file-20180419-163971-8935d7.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=230&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/215505/original/file-20180419-163971-8935d7.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=230&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/215505/original/file-20180419-163971-8935d7.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=230&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/215505/original/file-20180419-163971-8935d7.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=289&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/215505/original/file-20180419-163971-8935d7.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=289&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/215505/original/file-20180419-163971-8935d7.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=289&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">A guide to the ‘Golden Mile’ published in the Oxford Weekender News, one of many ‘bar rag’ newspapers that circulated the 1980s queer scene.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The first LGBTQ clubs on Oxford Street were Ivy’s Birdcage and Capriccio’s, which both opened in 1969. By the beginning of the 1980s, Oxford Street was home to a string of bars, clubs, saunas and cafes and had become known as Sydney’s gay “Golden Mile”.</p>
<p>The emergence of this gay heartland represents extraordinary social change. Male homosexuality remained illegal in New South Wales until 1984. The homosexual men socialising in 1950s CBD hotels were required to do so with discretion – the consequences of discovery could be devastating. </p>
<p>In contrast, the queerness of a venue like <a href="https://dictionaryofsydney.org/media/1500">Capriccio’s</a> was defiantly visible and undeniable. As more venues were opened along the Golden Mile, the street itself became a gay space, as did the surrounding neighbourhoods where LGBTQ people – particularly gay men – made homes in the terraces and apartments of Darlinghurst and Paddington. </p>
<p>A simple walk along the street became an act of participation in an emerging community. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/215348/original/file-20180418-163971-eb8b44.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/215348/original/file-20180418-163971-eb8b44.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=493&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/215348/original/file-20180418-163971-eb8b44.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=493&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/215348/original/file-20180418-163971-eb8b44.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=493&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/215348/original/file-20180418-163971-eb8b44.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=620&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/215348/original/file-20180418-163971-eb8b44.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=620&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/215348/original/file-20180418-163971-eb8b44.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=620&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Ivy’s Birdcage at 191 Oxford Street was one of Darlinghurst’s first drag bars.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="http://www.camp.org.au/">Sydney Pride History Group</a>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Members of a marginalised social group were thus using urban space to resist oppression and build a community. For some, this produced a kind of utopia. In an interview with Sydney’s <a href="http://www.camp.org.au/">Pride History Group</a>, DJ Stephen Allkins described his first visit to the Oxford Street disco Patch’s as a teenager in 1976. He remembers: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>I was home. That was it. It was the most fabulous place I’d ever been in my life … It’s full of gay people and they’re all dressed to the nines. They’re not hiding under a rock … They’re expressing and happy.</p>
</blockquote>
<h2>Finding a place in the queer community</h2>
<p>But these feelings of joy at having found such a space can be complicated by a range of factors. The gay community was certainly not free from sexism, racism and transphobia, meaning that some within the LGBTQ community were granted far easier access to these spaces than others.</p>
<iframe src="https://public.tableau.com/views/NSWSameSexCouplesbyPostcode/SamesexcouplesinNSWbypostcode?:showVizHome=no&:embed=true"" width="100%" height="450" \=""></iframe>
<p>Indeed, although Golden Mile-era Oxford Street included venues popular with lesbians, including the women-only bar Ruby Reds, the surrounding neighbourhood was more identifiably gay than <a href="http://www.publishing.monash.edu/books/ud-9781922235701.html">lesbian</a>. </p>
<p><audio preload="metadata" controls="controls" data-duration="103" data-image="" data-title="Katy O'Rourke recalls her first visit in the 1970s to queer venue Chez Ivy in Bondi Junction." data-size="1646383" data-source="Sydney Pride History Group" data-source-url="http://www.camp.org.au/sphg-home/35-100-voices-tabs/178-100-voices" data-license="Author provided" data-license-url="">
<source src="https://cdn.theconversation.com/audio/1141/090829-kor-chez-ivy.mp3" type="audio/mpeg">
</audio>
<div class="audio-player-caption">
Katy O'Rourke recalls her first visit in the 1970s to queer venue Chez Ivy in Bondi Junction.
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" rel="nofollow" href="http://www.camp.org.au/sphg-home/35-100-voices-tabs/178-100-voices">Sydney Pride History Group</a>, <span class="license">Author provided</span><span class="download"><span>1.57 MB</span> <a target="_blank" href="https://cdn.theconversation.com/audio/1141/090829-kor-chez-ivy.mp3">(download)</a></span></span>
</div></p>
<p></p><h4>Source: <a href="http://www.camp.org.au/sphg-home/35-100-voices-tabs/178-100-voices">Sydney Pride History Grouop</a></h4> <p></p>
<p>Inner-west suburbs including Leichhardt and Petersham were far more significant urban spaces in the lives of many queer women. Lesbian share-houses in these neighbourhoods became central sites of feminist politics, activism, sex and romance. </p>
<p>Penny Gulliver, a resident of legendary 1970s share-house “Crystal Street”, has remembered that women “who were just coming out, because there was nothing like a counselling service then, they’d come to Crystal Street”.</p>
<p>Into the new millennium, Oxford Street’s place as the gay heart of Sydney became less certain. As LGBTQ businesses failed and venues closed, questions emerged as to whether a community now more a part of the mainstream still needed its own spaces. </p>
<p><audio preload="metadata" controls="controls" data-duration="116" data-image="" data-title="Angela Crimmon talks about the ongoing importance of queer spaces in Sydney's west." data-size="1852034" data-source="Pride History Group" data-source-url="http://www.camp.org.au/sphg-home/35-100-voices-tabs/178-100-voices" data-license="Author provided" data-license-url="">
<source src="https://cdn.theconversation.com/audio/1137/080225-ac-lesbian-friendly-suburbs.mp3" type="audio/mpeg">
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<div class="audio-player-caption">
Angela Crimmon talks about the ongoing importance of queer spaces in Sydney’s west.
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" rel="nofollow" href="http://www.camp.org.au/sphg-home/35-100-voices-tabs/178-100-voices">Pride History Group</a>, <span class="license">Author provided</span><span class="download"><span>1.77 MB</span> <a target="_blank" href="https://cdn.theconversation.com/audio/1137/080225-ac-lesbian-friendly-suburbs.mp3">(download)</a></span></span>
</div></p>
<p></p><h4>Source: <a href="http://www.camp.org.au/sphg-home/35-100-voices-tabs/178-100-voices">Sydney Pride History Group</a></h4> <p></p>
<p>For a time, King Street in <a href="http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0607/04-gorman-murray.php">Newtown</a> dominated as a queer alternative. In 1983 gay publican Barry Cecchini took over the Milton Hotel on Newtown’s King Street, renamed it Cecchini’s and launched it as the area’s first gay venue. Shortly after, the Newtown Hotel, just across the road, also became a gay pub. Cecchini told the Sydney Morning Herald in 1984 that gays were leaving “the scene” of Oxford Street looking for a “more cosmopolitan mix” in Newtown.</p>
<p>Through the following decades, venues including The Imperial in Erskineville (made famous as the site from which three drag queens launched their adventures in a bus named <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/film/australia-culture-blog/2014/may/09/the-adventures-of-priscilla-queen-of-the-desert-rewatching-classic-australian-films">Priscilla</a>) and the Sly Fox in Enmore, home to a popular lesbian night, further developed the area’s queer reputation.</p>
<h2>Protecting queer space</h2>
<p>In recent years, however, a range of factors, including changes to licensing laws, have produced significant challenges for <a href="http://classic.austlii.edu.au/au/journals/CICrimJust/2016/16.html">queer socialising</a> in that neighbourhood. </p>
<p>Newtown sits outside the zone of the so-called “lockout laws”. Late-night partiers who might once have ventured to Kings Cross are instead heading to pubs along King Street, and reports of <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/news/2016-04-14/violence-increasing-newtown-alleged-homophobic-attack-victim/7328142">anti-LGBTQ abuse and violence</a> have increased. </p>
<p>In response, a campaign called “<a href="https://www.vice.com/en_au/article/zn7zp8/people-are-protesting-to-keep-newtown-weird-and-safe">Keep Newtown Weird and Safe</a>” has attempted to maintain the queer meanings of this urban space.</p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/KIJEGdCw_is?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
<figcaption><span class="caption">Keep Newtown Weird and Safe is an annual community festival that began in 2016 in response to homophobic and transphobic violence.</span></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Despite changes in Oxford and King streets, efforts to keep Newtown “weird” highlight the continued value of urban space to LGBTQ communities. Indeed, among a younger generation, new forms of queer identity continue to inspire the search for spaces in which to celebrate difference. </p>
<p>In pockets of the inner west, for example, young queer, transgender and <a href="https://theconversation.com/explainer-what-is-genderqueer-48596">genderqueer</a> people are creating spaces of activism, partying, performance and everyday life. This new generation is exploring the fresh possibilities of queer identity and developing their community. Access to urban space remains central to this. </p>
<p>Like the city itself, the LGBTQ community continues to be less a fixed entity than a process of <a href="http://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1068/d14012">movement</a>, adaptation and change.</p>
<hr>
<p><em>You can find other articles in the series <a href="https://theconversation.com/au/topics/cities-for-everyone-53005">here</a>.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/93956/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Scott McKinnon is Vice President of Sydney's Pride History Group. </span></em></p>Sydney’s LGBTQI heartland has moved and changed over time, but the importance of urban space to queer communities remains a constant.Scott McKinnon, Vice-Chancellor's Postdoctoral Research Fellow, University of WollongongLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/934212018-04-30T20:16:05Z2018-04-30T20:16:05ZTo create safer cities for everyone, we need to avoid security that threatens<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/216415/original/file-20180426-175074-1w5opog.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Police march down Swanston Street in Melbourne. </span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/melbourne-australia-november-16-2014-victoria-231057058?src=eNlACh7z1lF1Ha860g45KA-1-9">Nils Versemann / Shutterstock.com</a></span></figcaption></figure><p><em>This is the second article in our series, <a href="https://theconversation.com/au/topics/cities-for-everyone-53005">Cities for Everyone</a>, which explores how members of different communities experience and shape our cities, and how we can create better public spaces for everyone.</em></p>
<hr>
<p>The central role of public spaces in the social, cultural, political and economic life of cities makes it crucial that they’re accessible to everyone. One of the most important qualities of accessible public spaces is safety. If people do not feel safe in a public space, they are less likely to use it, let alone linger in it. </p>
<p>Perceptions of safety are socially produced and socially variable. It is not simply the presence of crime – or “threatening environments” – that contributes to lack of safety or fear.</p>
<p>All sorts of measures are put in place to make public spaces safer, from design to policing. But when we consider the effectiveness of these measures, we always have to ask: whose safety is being prioritised?</p>
<p>Women and members of ethnic and sexual minorities are among those who experience particular kinds of threats, abuse and violence in public spaces.</p>
<p>If we don’t account for the social dimensions of safety, there’s a risk that measures designed to enhance safety will have the opposite effect for some urban inhabitants.</p>
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<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/why-australia-should-be-wary-of-the-rise-of-the-warrior-cop-with-tools-to-match-94175">Why Australia should be wary of the rise of the warrior cop, with tools to match</a>
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<h2>Safety for a privileged few?</h2>
<p>There are many examples of safety measures that privilege the interests of some groups over others. </p>
<p>The gating of urban environments and the privatisation of public space allow the wealthy to buy a form of safety by separating themselves from the wider community. Such approaches aim to provide safety for the few, rather than the many. But this might actually <a href="https://www.routledge.com/Behind-the-Gates-Life-Security-and-the-Pursuit-of-Happiness-in-Fortress/Low/p/book/9780415950411">add to people’s fear</a> by creating a kind of urban border anxiety.</p>
<p>In architecture and planning, “crime prevention through environmental design” has gained traction as a way to enhance the safety and accessibility of public spaces. This school of thought suggests that spaces can be designed to reduce crime and enhance feelings of safety and security. Improving lighting and sight lines are examples of this. </p>
<p>These design principles are useful, but can only take us so far. </p>
<p>Design can certainly help to prevent some activities. But we need to ask: exactly what are we trying to prevent, where, and why are we trying to prevent it? Does it make our cities more just, for example, to design teenagers out of public spaces by blasting classical music or <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/pdf/10.1080/13676261.2014.944119">broadcasting ultrasonic frequencies</a> that can annoy only their young ears? </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/the-use-of-sonic-anti-loitering-devices-is-breaching-teenagers-human-rights-81965">The use of sonic 'anti-loitering' devices is breaching teenagers' human rights</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
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<h2>Who misses out on feeling safe?</h2>
<p>There are more banal, everyday examples of how public security measures can work to make some safe at the expense of others.</p>
<p>Consider the 2011 Transport for NSW “<a href="http://www.sydneytrains.info/travelling_with/trip_tips/customer_courtesy">customer courtesy</a>” campaign. The campaign, which placed posters on trains and train stations, sought to improve the “customer experience” by reducing the discomfort caused by “beastly behaviours” like loud talking and seat hogging. </p>
<p>These may cause discomfort for some public transport users, as surveys suggested. But many passengers are likely to be concerned about another “beastly behaviour” – racism. People from ethnic and religious minorities, especially women, too often experience racism, abuse and violence <a href="https://www.humanrights.gov.au/our-work/race-discrimination/publications/freedom-discrimination-report-40th-anniversary-racial">on public transport</a>. </p>
<p>Not only do those customer courtesy campaigns fail to call out discrimination as unacceptable, they can unintentionally give licence to racist behaviour. Eyewitness videos have shown passengers speaking languages other than English being abused by other passengers who insist they should not have to listen to such speech. </p>
<p>Police use of “sniffer dogs” at train stations, public spaces and events also illustrates how security measures can be exclusionary. In New South Wales, <a href="https://www.ombo.nsw.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0020/4457/Review-of-the-Police-Powers-Drug-Detection-Dogs-Part-1_October-2006.pdf">well over half</a> of all searches resulting from sniffer dog “hits” find no drugs on the person. And the locations in which sniffer dog operations have taken place mean that the young, the poor, ethnic minorities, Aboriginal people and LGTBQI communities seem <a href="https://theconversation.com/why-drug-detection-dogs-are-sniffing-up-the-wrong-tree-57343">more likely to be searched</a>.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/why-drug-detection-dogs-are-sniffing-up-the-wrong-tree-57343">Why drug-detection dogs are sniffing up the wrong tree</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>Police justify these operations on the grounds that they <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/society/2017/oct/19/ineffective-drug-dogs-could-cost-hundreds-of-thousands-a-year-greens-say">“send a message”</a> to potential offenders, thereby enhancing public safety. But this can make people in these locations feel less, rather than more, safe.</p>
<p><a href="https://www.academia.edu/8014588/Complex_Events_Drug_effects_and_emergent_causality">Research</a> in the LGTBQI community in Sydney in the early 2000s found:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Calls for greater numbers of local area police are as numerous … as complaints about their visibility and overbearing presence.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>For members of this community, homophobic violence, not recreational drug use, threatened safe access to public space. And yet while people struggled to have the threat of homophobic violence taken seriously, large groups of police with sniffer dogs constantly patrolled their streets, clubs and festivals, making people feel less safe and more threatened.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/big-city-gaybourhoods-where-they-come-from-and-why-they-still-matter-93956">Big city gaybourhoods: where they come from and why they still matter</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
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<h2>Principles for social justice</h2>
<p>So, how can we ensure that safety and security measures in public space actually create safety for all? Setha Low and I have offered a set of <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/pdf/10.1080/13604813.2015.1128679">social justice principles</a> for planning and policing of public spaces. These are: </p>
<ul>
<li><p><strong>distribution and redistribution:</strong> are public spaces equally accessible to all, regardless of people’s income or where they live? </p></li>
<li><p><strong>recognition:</strong> are some identities and ways of being in the city unfairly denigrated or stigmatised? Is there recognition that urban inhabitants have different identities and cultures? </p></li>
<li><p><strong>encounter:</strong> do public spaces create opportunities for encounters across different identities, without discrimination and harassment? </p></li>
<li><p><strong>care and repair:</strong> are public spaces cared for, and are the resources for care and repair fairly distributed? </p></li>
<li><p><strong>procedural justice:</strong> is the planning of public spaces open to all in a democratic process? </p></li>
</ul>
<p>Taking these principles into account can help us to avoid safety measures that have the perverse effect of reducing accessibility for some, and to approach safety in a way that makes the city more accessible and just for all. </p>
<hr>
<p><em>You can find other articles in the series <a href="https://theconversation.com/au/topics/cities-for-everyone-53005">here</a>.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/93421/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Kurt Iveson does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Security in cities can make some people feel safe while excluding others. New ways of planning and policing public space are needed to ensure cities are safe and accessible for all.Kurt Iveson, Associate Professor of Urban Geography, University of SydneyLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/923522018-04-29T20:13:30Z2018-04-29T20:13:30ZPushing casual sport to the margins threatens cities’ social cohesion<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/213537/original/file-20180406-125170-1ynu4hh.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">A group of young Asian men play basketball in the evening at Prince Alfred Park, Sydney.</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/11-aug-2017-sydney-australia-group-694509691?src=iUgbjkfvsv_l2fBtSoqFxg-1-0"> icsnaps/Shutterstock</a></span></figcaption></figure><p><em>This is the first article in our new series, <a href="https://theconversation.com/au/topics/cities-for-everyone-53005">Cities for Everyone</a>, which explores how members of different communities experience and shape our cities, and how we can create better public spaces for everyone.</em></p>
<hr>
<p>Park soccer, social cricket and street basketball bring the public spaces of our cities to life. For many of the most marginalised communities, access to public space for sport is crucial for developing and maintaining a sense of belonging. But as populations grow and competition for playing fields, courts and parks <a href="https://www.smh.com.au/national/nsw/three-visions-for-sydney-s-density-as-2-4-million-more-people-call-it-home-20180222-p4z1c5.html">becomes fiercer</a>, many communities are losing access to their sporting spaces. </p>
<p>Our research project is exploring informal team sport, social inclusion and urban space in Sydney and two other cities, Singapore and London. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/australia-needs-to-make-sport-a-more-equal-playing-field-heres-why-71144">Australia needs to make sport a more equal playing field: here's why</a>
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</em>
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<h2>Just turn up and play</h2>
<p>We are focusing on “pick-up sport” – regular or semi-regular team sports played in public spaces where people join in on a “turn up and play” basis. </p>
<p>On Friday nights in Sydney’s Blacktown, people of all ages from Filipino and African backgrounds play basketball in neighbourhood stadiums and public courts. In Redfern, Aboriginal youth play street ball on outdoor playgrounds in a rapidly gentrifying neighbourhood. </p>
<p>Ashfield Park in Sydney’s inner west comes alive in the late afternoons as Sudanese, Nepalese, Indian, Chinese, Afghan, Iranian and Turkish people gather for park soccer. On Friday nights, a group of Colombian men play against Chileans. Both groups wear homemade team jerseys. On Sunday afternoons in summer the informal Sydney Nepalese Soccer Club uses the park to train. Later in the evening, men from Nepal and India play social cricket.</p>
<p>These games have histories. Many of the players have gathered weekly for years. In some cases, informal teams have evolved into official <a href="http://www.acsasoccer.com.au/the-story-of-acsa/">ethnic leagues</a>. </p>
<p>For new arrivals, getting involved in pick-up sport can be an important first step into the friendships and social networks that help a newcomer with settlement, integration and belonging. </p>
<p>Structured sport programs are often used to <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/news/2018-01-05/australian-african-hoop-dreams-show-sports-power/9304450">increase community cohesion</a> and assist migrant settlement. However, many marginalised city inhabitants prefer informal sport to official club sport.</p>
<p>Registration costs, language barriers and <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/07256868.2015.1008430">stigmatisation of racial minorities</a> – including Aboriginal youth – make joining an official club difficult. For transient groups, like temporary migrants, the constraints of organised club sport are prohibitive. And, of course, women face a number of <a href="https://www.westernsydney.edu.au/ics/news_and_media/blog/women_in_sport_gender_in_society">barriers to participating in sport</a>. For many, just finding and registering for a formal neighbourhood team is a leap into the unknown. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/212151/original/file-20180327-29842-978btc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/212151/original/file-20180327-29842-978btc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212151/original/file-20180327-29842-978btc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212151/original/file-20180327-29842-978btc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212151/original/file-20180327-29842-978btc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=565&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212151/original/file-20180327-29842-978btc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=565&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212151/original/file-20180327-29842-978btc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=565&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
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<span class="caption">Evening cricket at Ashfield Park in Sydney’s inner west.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Amanda Wise</span></span>
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</figure>
<p>Pick-up sport, on the other hand, allows for relaxed rhythms of <a href="https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/full/10.1002/psp.1910">encounter</a>. These unhurried interactions allow space for the “slow cook” that is needed for new forms of community and “<a href="https://doi.org/10.1177/1367549413510419">multicultural conviviality</a>” to emerge. </p>
<p>Interactions across ethnic and socioeconomic lines, and between newly arrived and longer-term residents, help city communities to thrive. Pick-up sport provides the perfect opportunity for this. </p>
<h2>‘Sorry you can’t play here’</h2>
<p>But this social activity is increasingly under threat. The threat is palpable for one group of migrant and refugee men we have been observing in Sydney’s inner west. </p>
<p>They have been playing social soccer in the same park for over a decade. The players come from Afro-Caribbean, Chinese, Afghan, Iranian, Turkish, Nepalese and South American backgrounds. They are a mixture of longer-time immigrants and relative newcomers, including refugees and international students, with ages ranging from early 20s to 60s. The group is always evolving as people come and go. </p>
<p>For these men, playing soccer gives them a real sense of community and belonging. It also cultivates an openness to meeting new people who regularly join in.</p>
<p>Their games have run through summer, while official club games run over winter. Traditionally, this sporting ground has been happily shared between the formal and informal teams. However, the council has recently started renting the fields for private summer competitions and training, ending its support for “time share” between paid and unpaid use.</p>
<p>The group of men were reportedly politely told “sorry you can’t play here” and that the clubs were paying, had booked the space, and thus had a “right” to it. The team has since been forced to play on sloping bumpy ground among the trees. </p>
<p>These displaced players feel angry, marginalised and discriminated against. Their long-term use of the space was not recognised, nor was the social value their activity brings to the area.</p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/blaming-migrants-wont-solve-western-sydneys-growing-pains-77403">Blaming migrants won't solve Western Sydney's growing pains</a>
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<p>This story is repeated around Sydney and across the country as <a href="https://www.smh.com.au/national/nsw/the-sydney-suburbs-facing-a-major-shortfall-in-sports-grounds-20180328-p4z6mh.html">sporting clubs compete for space</a> and increasingly cash-strapped local councils look for ways to increase revenue. We met a social soccer team of young Muslim girls who were displaced because, they were told, the council needed funds from paying club sport to maintain the fields. </p>
<p>Meanwhile the New South Wales state government is <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/cities/2018/apr/11/stadium-wars-comedy-errors-behind-sydney-new-plans-football-nrl">pushing ahead with plans</a> to spend over $2 billion on two major Sydney stadiums, despite considerable <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/news/2018-03-29/nsw-government-backs-down-on-stadiums-backdown/9600654">community backlash</a>.</p>
<p>These commercialising forces ultimately undermine the social benefits of both formal and informal sport and the inclusivity of cities.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/212150/original/file-20180327-29867-16dal1m.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/212150/original/file-20180327-29867-16dal1m.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212150/original/file-20180327-29867-16dal1m.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212150/original/file-20180327-29867-16dal1m.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212150/original/file-20180327-29867-16dal1m.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212150/original/file-20180327-29867-16dal1m.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/212150/original/file-20180327-29867-16dal1m.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
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<span class="caption">Informal games in the park.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Amanda Wise</span></span>
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<h2>Counting the cost</h2>
<p>Beyond sport, these instances raise important questions about urban planning, gentrification and the privatisation of public space. These forces have real consequences for the formation of new communities and integration in diverse cities.</p>
<p>As the sociologist Iris Marion Young argues in her book, <a href="https://press.princeton.edu/titles/9562.html">Justice and the Politics of Difference</a>, public space is where the city’s strangers come together. Sport can produce great community benefits. We urge planners and politicians to consider the important role that open spaces have for informal social team sport in enhancing community cohesion in our big cities.</p>
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<p><em>You can find other articles in the series <a href="https://theconversation.com/au/topics/cities-for-everyone-53005">here</a>.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/92352/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Amanda Wise receives funding from the Australian Research Council, and has previously had research funded by the Commonwealth Department of Immigration and Citizenship.</span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Keith Parry, Kristine Aquino, Sarah Neal, and Selvaraj Velayutham do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Casual sport can help communities thrive. But for many of Australia’s most marginal communities, it’s becoming harder to find a place to play.Amanda Wise, Associate professor, Macquarie UniversityKeith Parry, Senior Lecturer in Sport Management, Western Sydney UniversityKristine Aquino, Lecturer in Global Studies, University of Technology SydneySarah Neal, Professor of Sociology, University of SheffieldSelvaraj Velayutham, Senior lecturer, Macquarie UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.