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8 Billion City is a speculative research into the consequences of creating one
city for the entire human population in 2025.

What will it look like? How big will it be? Where is it located? How can we feed
it? What political system will we choose? What happens to the rest of the world
once abandoned?

What does it mean to live, work, love and die in such a city?




8 BILLION CITY QUESTIONS

 * What are its dimensions?
 * How do you live there?
 * Who are its inhabitants?
 * How is it fed?
 * What are its origins
 * Where is it located?
 * What happens when you die?
 * How do you move through it?
 * How do you make a living in it?
 * How and who makes decisions about it?


PROJECT INFORMATION

 * About the 8 billion city project


RESEARCHERS

Edwin Gardner

Arne Hendriks

Christiaan Fruneaux

Vincent Schipper


NOTES ON BEING URBAN

The ‘now more than half live in cites’ argument has reached internet meme
status. That this sentence has been incorporated into the 'Batman Slap Robin’
meme signifies something. It has become a common place departure for reasoning,
about what it means to live in an urban world, that the future will be urban and
what that will mean for the human species. But after diving into some
statistics, and wondering how you would actually determine: “that more than half
of the world’s population lives in cities.” This is what I found: 

> “Each country defines the term ‘urban’ in its own way, although this is often
> only in terms of other labels; for example, ‘urban centres’, ‘major cities’,
> ‘administrative centres’ or ‘municipalities’. Sometimes the administrative
> boundaries of human settlements such as cities, towns and villages are
> available and are used to distinguish urban from rural; the populations within
> these administrative units are classified as urban. When definitions are based
> on quantitative thresholds, the minimum population for a place to be
> considered urban varies greatly. For instance, in several countries in Latin
> America and West Africa, the threshold is a population of 2 000, whereas it is
> 200 in Iceland, and 10 000 in countries like Italy and Benin. Alternatively,
> the definition of an urban population can be very complex, involving the
> socio-economic characteristics of the population or community (UN, 2004)." —
> Mapping global urban and rural population distributions, Food and Agriculture
> Organization of the United Nations (Rome, 2005)

From this you could think that it is a very subjective concept, and relative to
a culture and a geographical location. For Iceland with a total of population of
300.000 scattered across its sublime overpowering natural and largely
unpopulated landscape, 200 people is the threshold for an 'urban settlement’.
Perhaps being urban does not at all deal with population numbers and density,
but it is something that exists in the mind, a certain disposition, attitude
toward one self, the other, society and life in general. If you look up the
origins of the term urban you’ll find this: 

> urban (adj.) 
> 
> "characteristic of city life,” 1610s (but rare before 1830s), from Latin
> urbanus “of or pertaining to a city or city life,” as a noun, “city dweller,”
> from urbs (genitiveurbis) “city,” of unknown origin. The word gradually
> emerged in this sense as urbane became restricted to manners and styles of
> expression. In late 20c. American English gradually acquiring a suggestion of
> “African-American.” Urban renewal, euphemistic for “slum clearance,” is
> attested from 1955, American English. Urban sprawl recorded by 1958. Urban
> legend attested by 1980.  — Online Etymology Dictionary

 What pops out for me is “The word gradually emerged in this sense as urbane
became restricted to manners and styles of expression.” A culture can be urban,
in contrast to rural. Urban as an adjective is mostly added to black
Afro-American culture, hip-hop, street culture. The urban environment produces
distinctively different sub-cultures, with their own slang, and even language
(ebonics). It even has it’s own user-generated dictionary (Urban Dictionary).
When you do an images search you get an eclectic result of  street culture,
urban planning, consumer products, architectural renderings and academic
research all thinking and expressing relations to the city. 



With imagining the world as one city, this is rooted in the reality that in
terms of logistics, trade, resources, media, etc there is a continuum, a deep
infrastructural dependency and exchange of culture that spans the globe. In this
sense there is perhaps another manner of styles and expressions evolving that
emerges from this network, more then it emerges from a specific city. It is
interesting when one looks at Internet Culture, mostly memes and LOL-cats — and
how there is an absence of authorship. Mike Rugnetta suggests the idea that the
internet is on track of producing a cultural singularity (see the video below).
I don’t know what this all would mean, and how it would directly relate to the
world as one city, but it seems relevant.







— Edwin Gardner

 * What is its culture?

   
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1:100 — CUBES

If the ring road of Amsterdam, the A10, would be the circumference of the 8
Billion city then it would fit perfectly a 1:100 scale model of the 8 Billion
City. What scale is 1:100? It means 1cm represents 1meter. If we would build a
scale model of a Dutch canal-house out of sugar cubes, it would be 10 cubes
high, 3 cubes wide. 

 * What are its dimensions?

   
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1:10.000 — GRAINS

If a grain of sugar (size is approx. a cubic mm) would be a building, to scale
measuring roughly between 10 x 10 x 10m, then the model would have a scale of 1
to 10.000. In that case the diameter of the 8 Billion City (888km) would become
88.8 meters. Imagine a white disc completely filled up with sugar grains,
stretching 88.8 meters, see the blue circle in the map. 



View 8billion city model in a larger map

We make scale-test at our office that stands in the centre of the blue circle.
We fill the table with sugar, a white crystalline field covers the table-top.
The table is only 85cm wide and only fits a fraction of the entire 8 Billion
city. A fraction approximately the size of Amsterdam inside the A10 ring road. 





 * What are its dimensions?

   
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 * What are its dimensions?
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THE RICKSHAW

Every Wednesday, around noon, the rattle and whine of wooden wheels turning over
pavement echoed through the street. It being one of those days the weather
outweighed school, I hid under the bed till the coast was clear. On hearing the
rattle of the rickshaw, I peaked coyly out over the windowsill.

He must have been over eighty. Having most likely fought in the war, his face
was hardened by dirt and grit. I could imagine him in imperial uniform, but now
he wore a small skullcap, a robe, and a matching pair of pantaloons. All
impeccably white and creased. Behind him he pulled a small cart on which a large
wooden box was placed, covered with a heavy lid. On the back of the cart was a
small loud speaker. At regular intervals, his voice would bellow, “Tofu, fresh
tofu, anyone want fresh tofu?!”

As he pulled his cart, his voice grew louder. Not far from my window, yet out of
sight, a door slid open. The sound of a metallic door, with inlaid glass,
sliding along a grooved aluminum frame is unmistakable. Wooden slippers tapped a
staccato rhythm against floor tiles, then pavement. Out of the corner of the
windowsill, a woman not much younger than the tofu peddler cut through the
frame. The loudspeaker stopped abruptly, and two grainy voices interwove. Their
voices too soft to be audible, lingered, quivering in the otherwise silent
street.

Undoubtedly they first exchanged formalities. The quick bow of the head, the
tofu peddler smiling as to a familiar face. My neighbor, had lived on this
street all her life. From when she was a child, her father owned the land and
the house that stood on it. My neighbor, Mrs. Mitsui’s late husband moved in
when they got married. Of course, the house had changed. She was now the
landlord of not only her house, but also that of mine, and the rest of the
houses on the street - not uncommon in Tokyo’s most suburban ward.

They spoke to some length, longer than the tofu peddler would have with other
customers. Perhaps, they were old friends. The tofu peddler, was born into a
tofu family. His father, and most probably his grand father both drew their
carts every noon through Fukazawa - the name of this neighborhood. He handed her
the packaged tofu, having taken it from the wooden box. A bow of the head. They
exchanged a lingering glance, before Mrs. Mitsui started back to her house, her
geta tapping now a lonely rhythm. Her front door then slid open and closed.

The tofu peddler, alone stood there hesitant for a moment. Suddenly, the
loudspeaker began its drone, and the rickshaw began its grind over the asphalt,
pushing the tofu peddler forward. The amplified voice grew dim, and finally
faded. With only the occasional gust rattling the windows of the few remaining
wooden houses across the street, it had become silent.

The tofu peddler was not the only nostalgic manifestation to cut through the
otherwise modern everyday. There were still other, though ever less, vestiges of
local and community commerce and social relation. Now there are convenience
stores and supermarkets within walking distance, open all day and night. Though
there is no longer a need, Mrs. Mitsui’s door would open and her geta tap
through the street to welcome the rickety drone of the rickshaw.

As we begin our migration to a singular city, the need or even the viability of
mass commerce seems to be cast in increasing doubt. Is there a need for such
superstructures to ensure the quality of life we have grown accustomed to?
Beyond the seemingly popular need to reincorporate such nostalgic vestiges of a
premodern past, perhaps we need the peddler. In our future city, with its size
and density, are these modes of commerce and production not the only possible
means to allow for a healthy and vibrant polity?

- Vincent Schipper
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 * How do you make a living in it?

   
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Early explorations of the 8 Billion City, by Arne Hendriks

   
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“Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies in
the final sense a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are
cold and not clothed. This is a world in arms. This world in arms is not
spending money alone; it is spending the sweat of its laborers, the genius of
its scientists, the hopes of its children… . This is not a way of life at all in
any true sense. Under the clouds of threatening war, it is humanity hanging from
a cross of iron.”

Eisenhower in “Chance for Peace,” his first major address as President, on April
16, 1953.

It occurred to me that the 8 Billion City doesn’t need a military-industrial
complex, since there are no outside enemies to fight. Or do law enforcement
agencies also need industrial back-up to bring order to a city as complex as
ours? Or will you need a military-industrial complex just to keep all the
neighborhoods, wards and boroughs from fighting each other?

Let’s say, for arguments sake, a military-industrial complex is considered
useless in the 8 Billion City. Then, in theory, all that creative, logistic and
productive power can be redirected into bettering the city and the lives of it’s
inhabitants. Although, one must wonder, if lofty goals could inspire the same
kind of creative fury as the production of safety and / or destruction can.

(Eight years later, on January 17, 1963, the departing President Eisenhower
gave a televised farewell speech, in which he gave a straight and outright
warning against the growing might of the military-industrial complex.)

— Christiaan Fruneaux

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The Retroactive Travel Log - Tokyo

Entry # 1: The Fence

In retrospect easy explanations abound – claustrophobia probably amongst the
most credible.

The only thing I can attest as a fact though is that we went to look for the end
of this city. We took Chuo line to Takao station, an hour by train from Nakano,
took a 20 minute walk north, and found this fence – demarcating the end of the
city.            

I remember I woke up that morning with a tight chest, breathing suddenly a very
conscious affair. I felt the need for some kind of prove, or evidence, or
something that would say that there was an end to it all - some sort of
confirmation that it had borders, that there was an outside from this city. 

I’ve always been the emotional type explorer. Navigating cities by friendship,
love or sexual apatite, obeying coincidence and other non-quantifiable
parameters – instead of knowledge or the search of it. This strategy always
worked well for me. Cities are, or were, my domain. Even if I experienced them
as lonely, Jakarta 2001, or boring, Singapore 2002, I always felt that the city
was on my side, that we operated in sync, shared common goals.

Tokyo 2012, however, was different. Or was I? I read somewhere that every
molecule of your body is replaced after only seven years. Anyway, Tokyo felt
different: Hostile almost, unhappy with my presence, my meddling.

Most visitors find Tokyo of course very convenient, a city that generously
accommodats the basics – probably succeeding in that like no other city in the
world: Public transport brings you anywhere, and always on the clock, there is
no petty crime, no street refuse, no violent demonstrations, no hooliganism,
vandalism, or any kind of disturbing deviation. It’s safe, it’s inhabitants
polite and helpful.

On 11 July 2012 I sent an email to a friend that contained these sections:

“This city, this ever-generic landscape, this nonspecific labyrinth, with it’s
tubes and railways, always on time, polite, clean, busy, crowded, but empty,
it’s innumerable elevated highways, and its lack of things to hold on to… to
confront, engage, deviate from – I feel like a man drowning in comfortable silk
linen.” (…) “The average age of a building in Tokyo is 26 years. The average age
of a Tokyoite is 44 years.” (…) “Have the sensation that the world of men is
collapsing on top of me, drawn by the vacuum in my chest. Where did the starry
sky disappear? Where was the pristine mountain god that was promised me? And the
neon nights that would cradle me?”

Real or not – and I do not dear to suppose that Tokyo is a finished place, or
has utopist qualities, of any kind – this seeming lack of mayhem, this seeming
lack of individual temperament, this seeming lack of chaos, all these suburban
qualities - in the biggest city the human world has ever produced - must be
taken into account when contemplating the 8 Billion City.

When we arrived at Takao station we walked for twenty minutes in the direction
of a green hill where a fence demarcates the end. The fence stands at the foot
of a hill. On the other side of the fence was the forest. At a opening in the
fence we found an old stone stairway that led to a Shinto shrine. It was raining
and through the leaves you could see the Metropolis.

(The image of an enormous pile of tidal debris washed up against the mountains
has been with me since. And I know that this image doesn’t do the city justice
at all, nor the brilliance of its inhabitants.)

— Christiaan Fruneaux

 * Tokyo

   
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THE HOMELESS MATHEMATICIAN

The other day I was told this wonderful story about a nomadic Hungarian
mathematician that had no home, and no place to work. He travelled the world,
and each time stayed with a colleague mathematicians for a couple of weeks.
During this week he would be fed, his clothes washed and he had a place to
sleep. During this period he would work together with his colleague/host on math
problem and when solved, or a significant result was reached they would publish
a paper together to share their findings with the academic community. 

The storyteller couldn’t remember the name of this Hungarian nomad, but after a
quick google he revealed himself. He must have been talking about Paul Erdős
(1913-1996), who turns out to be the most prolifically publishing mathematician
in history, and had hundreds of collaborator over his lifetime. What intrigued
me about this story was that Erdős is perhaps the prototypical 8 billion city
dweller. Space meant nothing to his notions of home and work, only time and a
mathematical sparing partner. If one would think of a maximum size for a city of
8 billion, one could think of the maximum commute-time, but of course the whole
idea of a commuting depends on the functional division of life and space into
home and work. Erdős was a modern homeless man. He wasn’t out of luck,
marginalized and roaming the streets for scraps. Erdős had the abstract universe
of a mathematician that he could carrier with him anywhere. A proto-cyberspace
conjured up by his mind’s eye. A mind that needed to be fed by traveling to find
food new for mathematical thought. Apparently his greeting upon arriving at a
new host, would be “My mind is open!”

Through his travels he collected so many friends, that his friends invented a
number inspired by the six degrees of separation, it was called the Erdős
number. The number would indicate your distance in degrees from Erdős. Erdős
himself of course being ‘0’.

— Edwin Gardner

 * who are its inhabitants?
 * how do you live there?

   
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SOME INITIAL NOTES ON THE 8 BILLION CITY

Since humans left their nomadic hunter-gatherer existence behind, the city
became the focal point of their aspirations. These settlements became the nodes
that worked as amplifiers of the imagination, the fountainhead of human
potential and hubris. With the city man could create their own environment,
where they could contemplate and think about man separate from nature, from the
wilderness and eventually even separate from the gods.



Buckminster Fulller’s One-Town World sketch (1927)

Since we as a global species have passed the 50% threshold of urbanization in
2008, the city is and will increasingly constitute the dominant life experience
of humans. But where will the urbanization vector lead us? The ultimate
destination would be that all global cities would coalesce into one. Whether one
would imagine it through the McLuhan’s metapor of The Global Village, Fuller’s
Spaceship Earth or One-Town World, or Doxiadis’ extrapolation of all the worlds
urban area’s into one grand Ecumenopolis and its spectacular SciFi
imagination like Star Wars’ Coruscant. 



From Ekistics: An Introduction to the Science of Human Settlements by
Constantinos A. Doxiadis (Oxford University Press, 1968).

All people, all their stuff, their mess, their needs, desires, quirks and
ambitions packed into one dense dynamic techno-cultural soup. The 8 billion city
as the terminus of urbanization pulsating somewhere on planet earth. 

The genesis of the 8 billion city lies primarily in the imagination. But it asks
real questions of how we are to live within finitude. The finitude of one planet
and the finitude of a singular urban reality. These simple parameters raise very
practical questions about how we are to live in such a place, wether comfortably
or barely surviving. And perhaps it makes it easier to think about the totality
of mankind when brought together in one city, instead of being them being
dispersed over the continents, beyond a horizon. 

— Edwin Gardner (Jan, 2013)

 * What are its origins?

   
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