Under the facade

The recipe for the ideal city to live in – apart from cultural and geographical differences – is not so complicated. Whether it is the middle of the desert or the Arctic Circle, it should be smart, comfortable and affluent. And that’s basically it – a fact that the city councils who fall over themselves to take part in the increasingly redundant competitions and races for the ‘best’ title often seem to lose the sight of. The tidal wave of rankings for cities that have the best universities and colleges, the lowest taxes and the most efficient local transport, washed over us a long time ago and no longer grabs our attention. For the media, such league tables are very much yesterday’s news. So now there is the more specialised but straightforward slugging it out for the prestigious titles of the most student-friendly, ski-friendly, pedestrian-friendly, marathon-friendly, beer lover-friendly, parent-friendly, non-parent-friendly and even high heeled woman-friendly urban centres. Soon the ever-more essential rankings in today’s information whirlwind will be able to tell us which cities are particularly well set up for women wearing ballet shoes, prematurely greying men and children who play the ukulele. One thing is for sure – this will provide a lot of material to puff out the PR for these cities. Things could take a turn for the worse, however, when the city’s promotion strategy, pushed by the wind of personal and/or political changes, suddenly alters course and its new identity does not allow it to finance erstwhile flagship projects. Or the city closes itself up to new ideas in fields it does not ‘specialise in’. Or when it is easier to focus on yet another promotional campaign than to engage with the local residents and their actual problems. “The brand should be the result of what has been done; it should not be an end in itself,” insists Robert Johnson, a British specialist in business and city promotion. And it is difficult to argue with that. Cities are the people who live in them and (sooner or later) these people are going to be voters. This is why the positioning of cities can often resemble an election manifesto: the rule ‘all things to everyone’, which in effect means no one gets anything, reigns supreme. But do things really have to be this way? The role of a façade, after all, is not just to draw our attention but to also reflect the character of the building. This brings to mind the seemingly trivial story about a friend of a friend. He is an ideal father. At least this is what his ex-wife tells everyone. After all, he pays the school fees and for training sessions as well as for all the holidays. And he spends quite a lot of time with his son. Usually they go to the park or a café, just sitting back and enjoying their moments together without talking. Both just looking at their own screen. This case came to light when the increasingly dejected teenager confessed to his grandparents that he had not actually spoken to his parents for a long time. And it had all started in banal fashion. With a Christmas present. A tablet is ideal for keeping children quiet: on holiday, out shopping or in a waiting room. It keeps the young ones mercifully occupied when they are just starting their “But why?” phases. And grown-ups are also attached to them, seemingly umbilically. Tablets are always ready-to-use, always interesting – and a release from the drabness of everyday life. You could even call them friends. Of course, it is easy to blame technology for all society’s ills: for taking away our jobs (‘the damn robots!’), when for our privacy (enven using algorithms to arranges even dates) and our real life relationships (‘What do you mean these are not real friends?! We have accounts and friend lists everywhere!’) However, the truth is much more unpalatable: it’s becoming more and more difficult to attract meaningful attention these days.