First, it is worth looking at the broad range of architectures of control both inside and outside of product design. The use of the term ‘architecture’ is no coincidence, since it is in the planned systems which people inhabit—buildings and environments—that the idea of shaping behaviour is consistently evident.
Urban planning
On a small scale: the high windows of traditional British school classrooms might be positioned in the optimum location for lighting (on the ‘left’ to illuminate the work of right-handed pupils—an ‘accessibility’ debate in itself), but the sills are almost always high enough to prevent pupils’ being distracted by events outside. This is a simple architecture of control.
A traditional British school classroom often had high window-sills—to prevent the seated pupils from being distracted by more exciting events outside, or indeed staring out of the window.
On a grander scale: the designs of urban planners such as Baron Georges-Eugène Haussmann [1,2], who remodelled Paris for Louis Napoléon (later Napoléon III) after 1848, may include elements of physical crowd control (replacing many narrow streets—which had made the revolutionaries’ barricades effective—with broad boulevards and avenues [1]) and, less obviously, psychological crowd control (a mob may feel less powerful if positioned in the middle of a large area, whether that be a park or a thoroughfare)—see also Artefacts & Politics.
Despite Jane Jacobs’ wise warnings in The Death and Life of Great American Cities against generalising about the value of “More Open Space” in city planning [3], as part of an architecture of control it becomes just another tool in the strategic toolbox. Indeed, strategic design may be something of a synonym for the use of architectures of control, not just in ‘political’ city planning, but across the range of human endeavour where some particular user behaviour is desired or required.
Traffic calming measures such as speed humps (‘sleeping policemen’) are ‘disciplinary’ architectures of control. Note also the CCTV camera on the pole: absolutely ubiquitous in modern Britain as in many other countries
Extending the review into other aspects of the built environment, features as diverse as ‘traffic calming’ (speed humps, built-out kerbs and chicanes as physical controls, removal of road centre-lines as psychological controls [e.g. 4]), the increasing use of ‘pig ears’ on walls and radiused kerbs as deterrents to skateboarders [5], and even park benches with central armrests [e.g. 6] to prevent people sleeping on them (or indeed, ‘perches’ at bus-stops and deliberately uncomfortable café chairs to discourage lingering), all fall into the category of architectures of control.
‘Redesigned to face contemporary urban realities, this bench comes standard with a centre arm to discourage overnight stays in its comfortable embrace’—from Belson
Bolts fixed into a kerb (by a member of the public!) to prevent skateboarders using it, in Kenilworth, Warwickshire, England. Article from Kenilworth Today
Disciplinary architectures
At this point, the discussion could well move into how what is characterised as ‘defensive architecture’ is in fact ‘disciplinary architecture’; as Ocean Howell of San Francisco State University notes [5], it is ‘defending’ the general public against ‘undesirable’ behaviour by other members of the public.
This is only one step away from Jeremy Bentham’s Panopticon [7] and Michel Foucault’s argument (in Discipline and Punish [8]) that by embedding punishment systems in architecture and institutions (e.g. prisons) rather than meting out direct retribution publicly (e.g. public execution or floggings), the likelihood of adverse public reaction to the punishment is greatly reduced. In the park bench example, a public confrontation between police and a person sleeping on the bench (with possible sympathy from bystanders) can be avoided entirely by preventing anyone sleeping on the bench in the first place (using the architecture to control). Not for nothing are speed humps commonly known as ‘sleeping policemen’ in the UK.
Bentham’s Panopticon, where all prisoners could be watched without their knowledge, is a use of architecture to permit greater control, but does not in itself prevent ‘undesirable’ behaviour. It certainly reduces its likelihood, though. Image from Wikimedia Commons
Nevertheless, whilst fascinating, it is perhaps counterproductive to go too deep into this vein, since within the context of product design, it is clear that many of the objectives of Foucault’s “technologies of punishment” can be achieved, and even surpassed, through architectures of control—surpassed in the sense that people can be prevented from committing the crimes in the first place.
A breathalyser interlock on a car ignition can stop the crime occurring, thus there is no need for punishment. The necessary discipline is forced on the user by the product architecture. Bentham’s Panopticon guard need not sit in the centre any more to achieve optimum surveillance. He or she could be replaced by a computer monitoring the behaviour of every inmate—or indeed, preventing infractions in the first place, as far as possible.
As another product example of disciplinary monitoring, the Traksure black-box monitoring system for ‘young male drivers,’ offered by AXA Insurance in Ireland [9], records and transmits (via GSM) the car’s speed and location, in return for a discount on the premium for ‘safe’ drivers; a similar system is on offer in the UK, but focused on enforcing a mileage-based insurance policy [10].
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[...] Last month, Norwich Union (one of the UK’s largest insurers) opened up its ‘black box’-based car insurance policy (see here) to a wider range of drivers, with a lot of publicity. [...]
Dan,
It is argued that one of the principal reasons for constructing spiritual buildings and sculptures on such a ‘monumental’ scale is the desire by their architects to instil awe, and hence control, among the ‘masses’. The psychology appears to be: ‘only an immovable or eternal force could create something so massive and beautiful…so resistance is futile.’
We began to worship money, and hence skyscrapers, in the twentieth century, but before then, the tallest buildings in the World were often, if not always, Christian cathedrals. Similarly, in Communist states secular monuments often dominated the skylines (and still do in North Korea). I believe that these are all examples of ‘architectures of control’?
Peter
Hi Peter,
Thank you, that’s a good point, and I suppose that kind of psychological ‘control’ through actual architecture is a whole field in itself, and probably a point of much debate among architects and planners (e.g. http://www.designcommunity.com/discussion/19627.html).
In the sense that inspiring awe (or outright fear) can be used to control people, it is certainly an ‘architecture of control’, though most of the examples on this site are more about specific design features which prevent or enforce certain behaviours (there are a few psychological examples, such as the cone cup to discourage littering, as in the Judge, but even that relies on a functional product architecture).
It’s interesting, regarding the ‘tall building inspiring fear of God’ phenomenon, to read the descriptions of Hopton Stoddard’s ‘Temple of the Human Spirit’ in Ayn Rand’s The Fountainhead—the brief was for it to:
Howard Roark, architect, responds with:
If anyone has any other observations/examples of psychological (or other) control being designed into environments, please, comment away.
Dan
[...] This is essentially ‘disciplinary architecture‘, or as Andreas Bovens has put it, “every use that is not specifically permitted by the… provider is in fact prohibited.” DRM of this kind is using technology to enforce ‘laws’ (often not actually laws, but just arbitrary sets of conditions) without the benefit of evidence, a jury or due process, and with no way of appealing. [...]
[...] What other examples are there? I guess the Mosquito might cause hearing damage but it’s probably not life-threatening. Child-proof lids on medicine bottles, child-proof door locks on cars and other simple control can certainly cause unintended problems for adults too – for example, if someone has arthritis it may be difficult to open a child-proof pill bottle. A car throttle preventing excessive revving could also prevent a motorist accelerating to avoid danger. Skateboarding deterrents can cause injury: in fact, if they are not specifically signed as being there but are introduced without warning, I don’t think it’s going too far that to say they are specifically intended to cause injury and damage, and in most cases their installation is funded with public money. [...]
[...] I note that another Telegraph story on the Mosquito, from last month, lists Staffordshire Police and Rochdale Council as two publicly funded bodies which have started using the devices – thus, along with skateboarding deterrents, we really do have public money being spent on devices designed to cause injury, damage or discomfort to certain parts of the population. I don’t think I like that. [...]
[...] A significant proportion of people who come across this website have searched for “skate deterrent” or “skateboarding control” or something along those lines; I don’t know what the split is between those who are ‘for’, ‘against’ or just ‘interested in’ disciplinary architecture of this kind. [...]
[...] Aside from the kitschness (hey, I’m not one to criticise!), some of Matthias’ work touches on an interesting area pertinent to ‘built environment’ architectures of control: the ‘hidden agenda’ behind superficially pretty or aesthetically attractive designs: “Examples of Mr Megyeri’s art include… glass fir trees embedded in concrete, designed to replace broken bottle shards, which are now illegal. [...]
Architectures of control could be a good thing in some cases. In my local park, a big problem is motorcycles illegally riding around causing a danger to others, as well as being an anti-social nuisance. When you contact the police or the council, they maintain there is nothing to be done in case a chase results in injury. I tell them what is needed are ‘architectures of control’ i.e. anti-motorcyles gates on the entrances, or a park warden etc. These are attempts by me to stop conflict by tackling the root cause (it is too easy to get in!). I fully agree with your article in Engineering Designer though, that sealed bonnets on cars etc, will reduce the innovation and capability of future engineers who cannot ‘tinker’. Another issue are toys, such as lego or meccano, which are being ignored in favour of the ‘gameboy’.
[...] Mr. Lockton has a related page on control in urban planning. Check it out; this subject is of ever increasing relevance with the rise of DRM. [...]
[...] Yumiko Hayakawa has a very thoughtful and well-illustrated article at OhMyNews on the story behind the variety of ‘anti-homeless’ benches and architectural features (including public art) in Tokyo’s parks and public areas – by making it difficult or impossible to lie down. (We’ve looked briefly before at benches with central armrests before, along with anti-sit devices and of course anti-skateboarding measures – ‘disciplinary architecture‘) [...]
[...] The commenters detail a fantastic array of ‘disciplinary architecture‘ examples, including: [...]
[...] Many of the ‘built environment’ examples discussed here over the last year-and-a-bit have been intended to control (or “manage”) traffic in some way, e.g to slow drivers down, force them to take an alternative route, or force them to stop. I thought it would be worth mentioning a couple of other methods, the rationales behind them, and some of the problems: [...]
[...] Jul 22nd, 2007 by Jeremy Examples courtesy of Architectures of Control [...]
[...] See also: architectures of control, a phrase originally coined by Lawrence Lessig. [...]
[...] Panóptico. Fuente: Desing with intent [...]