BARCELONETA AS HETEROTOPIC MIRROR:
A PLACE OF DIFFERENT SPACES
Dr Tony McHugh
University of Sydney, Australia
ABSTRACT
Barceloneta (Little Barcelona) is now my second home. Its marketplace has become my heterotopic mirror[1], a concept theorised by Michel Foucault that simultaneously reflects and contests this new place/space of mine. Through a series of selections and ‘fragmentations’ of my time in Barcelona I interrogate how oppositions and alliances, juxtapositions and separations, fundamentally identify a relational process which functions best because of its different combinations. Perhaps it is the uncertainty of the mirror where, ‘I discover myself absent at the place where I am’ (Foucault, 1998 [1967], p. 179) that lays bare the fragility and strength, the confusion and hope, of living ‘out of place’ in a culture that is not my own.
INTRODUCTION
The present age may be the age of space … We are in an era of the simultaneous, of juxtaposition, of the near and far, of the side-by-side, of the scattered … We are in an age when space is presented to us in the form of relations of emplacement.[2] (Foucault, 1998 [1967], pp. 175, 177, Different Spaces).
Barcelona is my home, at least for half the year. Perhaps I should describe it as my second home. My real home is in Sydney. Sydney is my home place: where I grew up, where I went to school, where I played cricket for the Tigers and ‘footie’ for Wests, where I trained and worked as a dentist, where my extended family is, where my ashes will be scattered one day. And whereas once I was science-based, I am now established in the humanities, where I gained my doctorate in cultural studies and French philosophy.
My move to Barcelona has reinforced the fact that a tertiary qualification in cultural theory is no preparation for the day-to-day nuances of living in a different sociocultural milieu—a Catalan one in this instance. And so, it has come to pass that in trying to understand and adapt to my new place and space (l’emplacement) I have begun to see myself, and how others here in Catalonia must see me, in a different light. My nearby marketplace—el mercat de la Barceloneta—has come to play a pivotal role in unpacking my reflective thought on this matter, eking out a critical reappraisal of my all-too-easily constructed Australian-made comfort zone. Indeed, occasionally, as I now stroll past the mirrored sliding doors at the entrance of Barceloneta market, I realise I am perceiving a different exterior of myself, one that I had not until recently been aware of, an exterior of ‘me’ that the locals had adjudged and discerned all along—an outsider passing by in spaces different than their own.
BARCELONETA MARKET
In the mirror I see myself where I am not, in an unreal space that opens up virtually behind the surface; I am over there where I am not, a kind of shadow that gives me my own visibility, that enables me to look at myself there where I am absent—a mirror utopia. But it is also a heterotopia in that the mirror really exists, in that it has a sort of return effect on the place that I occupy. Due to the mirror, I discover myself absent at the place where I am, since I see myself over there (Foucault, 1998 [1967], p. 179, Different Spaces).
At first sight, the reflective ground-level façade of the marketplace seems at odds with the curved metallic structures that surround and subdue it. But these metallic forms were never meant to be the skeleton of the beast, rather they are the shards of a skin that is shedding but never shed. This Barceloneta market—el mercat de la Barceloneta in Catalan—is set in a mixture of modern glass and cast iron wing-like extensions forming a roof which is both fragmented and singular (Brandi, 2009, pp. 80-117) … and in some ways violent, as it twists and turns. Unlike the nearby Santa Caterina market, with its brightly coloured, undulating roof, Barceloneta market has a darker and colder side to its aesthetics, undeniably more suited to its industrial and wartime past.
Originally constructed in 1884, and one of the first covered markets built in Barcelona, Barceloneta market was partially destroyed in 1938 by bombs during the Spanish Civil War. The current building is the end result of an extensive deconstruction and reconstruction process carried out between 2005 and 2007 (Brandi, 2009, pp. 4-17), preserving a certain continuity of the original edifice in a non-structural and uneasy equilibrium … juxtaposing old and new, memory, trace, and ambition.
Tuesday, May 16, 2017, 7:30am.
It is just on a year since I purchased the apartment in Barceloneta. It is early in the morning. The evening chill has gone, and the sun shines on the tables and umbrellas at El Guindilla on the outside edge of the marketplace. The locals are speaking fast and loud in Catalan. I stroll across Plaça del Poeta Boscà on my way to the market. I inhale the aroma of bread and pastries from Forn de Pa Baluard, and I see there is already a queue ten meters long outside the door. I continue on past the cryptic chatter at the tables, past the cigarette-fuelled coughing, past the conversations, the village characters, and the conspicuous glare of disdain from a group of four at the restaurant corner. And I enter into the marketplace, seeing my mirrored image distort, then disappear as the automatic glass doors slide apart.
I am inside the market building, but short of the vendors’ stalls. First, I must pass through the foyer where posters from the Museu d’Història de Catalunya are now on show—about the bombing (bombardejada) of Barceloneta by Italian and German airplanes during the Spanish Civil War. Indeed, it was here on September 16, 1938 that this market hall was struck, killing 34 and wounding 124. And even though I have seen this exhibit before, it is a reminder that there is a lot more than glass and metal woven into the fabric of this marketplace, and it is with this realisation in mind that I continue on through the second set of doors, observing myself once again appear and disappear, but this time deeper into a different space, through sliding mirrors.
As one would expect, the market has many kinds of stalls ranging from those selling fish and other types of seafood—which the district is renowned for due to its proximity to the sea—to those selling meat, poultry, cheeses, nuts and spices, fruit and vegetables, and other non-food items. There are also many bars and eateries inside and outside to choose from, but I have my favourites, which I keep coming back to. And since I am now a familiar face at these places, I feel more comfortable in this marketplace than I do at many of the locations in the market’s surrounds, where I am often mistaken as a passing holiday-maker, a tourist which many of the locals despise.
Once inside, the first place I go to is Paco’s Bar (Barra de Paco). I perch on a stool and nod to Paco, who stands facing the coffee machine. His painted portrait hangs behind him on the wall. I greet him in my limited Catalan: ‘Bon dia. Com estàs?’, before proceeding to order my coffee in more familiar Spanish. Sometimes it’s: ‘café con leche’. Sometimes it’s ‘un cortado’. It depends on how I feel. Often, Paco is ahead of me: ‘¿Un cortado esta mañana?’ I reply: ‘Sí un cortado, gracias.’
A few of the regulars greet me too: ‘Bon dia’ I reply, and am relieved when no Catalan conversation ensues. Paco has spoken enough ‘Spanglish’ with me to know that I have originally come from Sydney, and I suspect he has passed this on to my barside companions, who act accordingly. They know I am not a tourist, just someone who lives around the corner, that doesn’t speak much Catalan. Now infused with my morning caffeine, I bid them all goodbye: ‘Adéu, bon dia’, and move on to my next stop.
The place where I purchase most of my fruit and vegetables is run by my downstairs neighbours’ son-in-law (‘yerno’ in Spanish). Both he and my neighbours, Matio and Sofía, prefer speaking to me and each other in Spanish. ‘Buenos días Xavi. ¿Qué tal?’ I say. And I continue in Spanish: ‘I’d like some apples, oranges, tomatoes, and beans. And the mandarins I bought here last week were fabulous, so I’ll have some of those too.’
And then I need to get some seafood. This time, greetings and ordering are in Catalan … cod (bacallà) or salmon (salmó). My seafood lady, Marta, always has a smile for me. I return her smile with an Aussie grin.
After a few more purchases I emerge from the mercat with full shopping bags. Somehow, at this very moment, the chatter at the outside tables seems less foreign, the looks from the locals less threatening. Even my reflected image in the glass façade looks clearer, more real.
I recall that a year ago it was not like this …
MEETING PLACE
From the gaze which settles on me, as it were, I come back to myself and begin once more to direct my eyes toward myself and to reconsider myself there where I am. The mirror functions as a heterotopia … I look at myself in the glass both utterly real, connected with the entire space surrounding it, and utterly unreal—since, to be perceived, it is obliged to go by way of that virtual point which is over there (Foucault, 1998 [1967], p. 179, Different Spaces).
Barceloneta marketplace has been the catalyst for my measured acceptance into this closely-knit community. Not just a place to buy goods, it is in some respects a sacred meeting site: a subtle mixture of commerce, industry, gastronomy, theatre, and chitchat. At one time or another the entire neighbourhood passes through this marketspace and the adjacent public squares. In fact, it would be true to say that markets like this are key elements in the understanding of the sociocultural logic and workings of the district. This melting pot is, in turn, inseparable from the history of the region itself. Locals escape from their apartments, get together, socialise, and gossip. And these things for them are just as important as the shopping. Like hidden spaces within the structure of the market itself, there are always secrets in and around the social comings and goings. But these movements and interactions are often visible only to the anointed members of the neighbourhood. I can only hope that, in time, I will gain a better command and understanding of Catalan language and history so I can savour, in a deeper and more meaningful way, my other home.
THE APARTMENT
Heterotopias always presuppose a system of opening and closing that isolates them and makes them penetrable at the same time … Everybody can enter these heterotopian emplacements, but actually this is only an illusion: one believes he is going inside and, by the very fact of entering, one is excluded (Foucault, 1998 [1967], p. 183, Different Spaces).
One year earlier …
Saturday, May 7, 2016, 9:45am.
I am waiting for Mr. Cisneros, the fourth real estate agent I have consulted in recent days. I am sitting in the lobby of my hotel, just across from Plaça de Catalunya, and I check my iPhone for messages and new listings. A gentleman approaches, I stand to greet him, he shakes my hand and, in heavily-accented English, introduces himself as Ignasi.
In the last few days I have viewed more than a dozen apartments, managed by three different real estate companies. So far, I have had no luck. Today there are more properties to view. By the end of the week I will have been taken from the Eixample to El Raval, from Gràcia to Vila Olímpica, and from El Born to Barceloneta.
Over the course of a decade—always as a tourist—I have visited many European cities, including Barcelona, several times. But at this stage of my life, for whatever reason, I seem to have reached a certain point of indifference doing just the ‘touristy’ things. In fact, now more than ever, I have a strong desire to immerse myself in the European culture, to live within the culture. Paris had once been my favourite. However, Barcelona has always held a unique attraction for me. Perhaps it is the sea, the beach and the weather. Maybe the architecture or the food, wine, and café culture. Or the city’s vibrancy. Maybe it is the people, the cultural conflation, the traditions, the history, and the football fanaticism. In Barcelona, there is always something to do, even (and especially) late at night.
Last year I lived for five months in the 10th and 11tharrondissements of Paris. I returned to Sydney just a few days before the November terrorist attacks. Distressed and saddened I watched live coverage emerging from the places I knew so well—Le Carillon in particular, but also Café Bonne Bière, and the Bataclan, all turned into sites of mass murder.
Long before the terror in November I had decided not to buy an apartment in Paris, largely related to taxation complexities, spatial issues, and excessive cost. But the co-ordinated attacks strangely left me wanting to return, to pick up the pieces of my time there, to retrieve the ghost in me that had been violated. And yet, unaccountably, past and future echoes beckoned me back to Barcelona.
Ignasi was organised, more so than the other agents. It became clear that he had studied the list of preferences I had sent him, and had worked out the likely hierarchy of real estate options: central location, two bedrooms, natural lighting, air conditioning, outdoor terrace, elevator, modern kitchen, modern bathroom, low maintenance, and an attractive price. Recently built, the Barceloneta apartment ticked all these boxes and more, including proximity to the beach and the market, and a huge underground cellar. I was excited.
Ignasi spoke to the owner on my behalf in Catalan. He explained the details to me in English. The price was agreed upon, and the process of lodging a deposit to reserve the property was initiated. Prior to this, a Spanish law firm had been engaged and was on standby, my Spanish Identification Number (NIE) had been obtained, and a bank account opened. My dual UK and Australian citizenship speeded up the process, but then came the legal searches, town hall registration, purchase of separate health insurance, updating of bank statements, confirmation of my source of funds, consular residential certification, and the establishment of a direct debit facility for insurances, council taxes and fees, utility charges, legal costs, notarisation and registration.
But there is more to tell about the days and months following my acquisition of the Barceloneta apartment.
NEIGHBOURHOOD BY THE SEA
And perhaps our life is still dominated by a certain number of oppositions… oppositions we take for granted … between private space and public space, between family space and social space, between cultural space and useful space, between the space of leisure activities and the space of work … space that can be fluid like running water … space that can be fixed, solidified like stone or crystal (Foucault, 1998 [1967], p. 177, Different Spaces).
The neighbourhood of Barceloneta (which means ‘Little Barcelona’) is housed on a triangular spit of land that nowadays is bordered by the world class marina of Port Vell on one side, the trendy El Born barrio[3] with its stylish boutiques, bars and restaurants on another, and the sandy beaches of the Mediterranean Sea. It is no wonder then that in recent decades Barceloneta—once a modest, working-class neighbourhood—has attracted the interests of developers and real estate investors.
Strangely, many ‘Barcelonians’ still see Barceloneta as foreign to the city in which it is located. And while a large part of the city of Barcelona has a history dating back to Roman times and beyond, the neighbourhood of Barceloneta is a relative newcomer, having been built in the middle of the 18th century, outside the city walls, and on land reclaimed from the sea. Reputedly, although accounts differ, the original intention of the settlement was to house those displaced by the bombardment of Barcelona at the end of the War of Spanish Succession in 1714.
The first dwellings to be built in Barceloneta were humble, two-storey workers’ cottages overlooking streets that resembled a grid pattern (Tóibín, 2002, p. 146). But as the neighbourhood filled, more floors were added, and the height of the buildings increased to four and five storeys. Further rises in population meant that most of the old apartments were split into twos and threes, causing further population density and deteriorations in living standards and amenities. Many of the apartments in these buildings were so small they were referred to as ‘quarts de casa’ (quarter houses).
During the 19th century and most of the 20th century Barceloneta was home to labourers and their families, mostly involved with trades associated with the sea, including robust metal and shipbuilding industries. However, it would not be long before the ambiance of this closely-knit, working-class community—where everyone knew each other, their customs, traditions, and routines—would change irreversibly. In 1986, it was announced that Barcelona would host the 1992 Olympic Games (Tóibín, 2002, p. 192).
From the lead-up to the 1992 Olympics, and onwards to recent times, policy makers in Barcelona, including its own city council, promoted the city to both tourists and to international business groups, as a centre for leisure, investment opportunity, and development. This policy of reshaping and appropriation of urban space resulted in many positive, but also negative, consequences for community-based enclaves such as Barceloneta. And crucially, these processes of deregulation introduced a restructuring of urban space and social function in favour of private interests, away from the public sector. The pre-Olympic Games barrio of Barceloneta was about to be invaded and transformed, as the city and its commercial interests turned towards the sea. Barceloneta, once separated from the centre, now became part of the centre itself, and in a very short space of time, one of the most sought-after areas for development in the city. And it has become clear that this process of demolition and construction surrounding Barceloneta’s renovation—championed in many cases by local government authorities—has also brought about suffering, destruction of family traditions, and the tangible displacement of poorer households and firms in the district, either through direct eviction or market pressure (Boer & Vries, 2009, p. 1328).
Of course, I am well aware that local and international socioeconomic movements are part and parcel of the fabric of modern Barceloneta. I also realise that any one of these cultural eventualities never operates in isolation, but swims in a milieu of variables beyond individual control. But I am also reminded that, by purchasing the newly-built apartment, I have played a part in the process of changing the environment and traditions of the locals, minor though it may be. I did not know about all of this when I acquired the property. Nonetheless, the ‘deed’ was done. Would I have changed my decision about buying the apartment if I had known more detail about the history of the area? Probably not. But then again, in the absence of a retrospectoscope, I really don’t know. What I do know, however, is that I have a better understanding of the grievances and (sometimes) outright hostility shown by long-term Barceloneta residents when faced with further developments in the barrio. And when I emerge from the front entrance of my apartment building, I cannot help but occasionally see, or perhaps imagine, the reflection of myself as conspirator in the eyes of a long-term resident—a pernicious reflection if I take care to notice and comprehend.
TOURIST AS TERRORIST
We do not live in a void … we live inside an ensemble of relations that define emplacements … those way stations that cafés, movie theatres, and beaches constitute … emplacements that can be found within the culture are, at the same time, represented, contested, and reversed (Foucault, 1998 [1967], p. 178, Different Spaces).
Saturday, August 12th 2017, 11:00am.
Today is another magical, sunny day in Barcelona. I am strolling across Plaça del Poeta Boscà on my way to Carrer de Pontevedra, and then on past Can Majó to the beach. At the far end of the square I pass by, what looks like, three generations of local residents sitting around the children’s play area: nanna and poppa (abuela y abuelo), mum and dad, and the children laughing while nudging each other in an animated display of football. A few meters away an elderly woman basks in the warmth, and pretends to look on.
On the other side of the public square, a group of men, perhaps in their 40s or 50s—it’s hard to tell—lounge on fixed tables and chairs, sipping on cans of Estrella Damm, shouting something about massa turistes to everyone and to no-one. One ponytailed man, beer in hand, gesticulates towards me as I walk by. ‘Fote’t turista’ he screams. I hear him spit in my direction.
I live here in Barceloneta, and have walked past these and other drunken hombres many times in the last twelve months. To most of them I am still a tourist. Un turista indesitjable. But it is not only them that brand me as an ‘undesirable tourist’.
I look up at the many different types of flags and banners draped from the balconies surrounding Plaça del Poeta Boscà. There is the yellow and blue flag that is Barceloneta’s own. But there are also others: La Senyera the flag of Catalonia, La Estelada blava symbol of the separatist movement, the Sí flag advocating a ‘Yes’ vote in the forthcoming independence referendum, the Barcelona FC flag, and the Cap pis Turistic banner demanding the abolition of short term rental flats.
I reach the beach, and I am confronted by a human chain along the shoreline, another anti-tourist protest. The placard on Barceloneta beach reads: ‘We have a right to rest. Barceloneta is a neighbourhood, not a holiday resort’. And another: ‘This isn’t tourism. It’s an invasion’. ‘Barceloneta diu prou!’ (Barceloneta says stop!). Another banner is carried up to the walkway, just in front of me. The protesters’ chant reverberates within me, and the echo of guilt is clear: ‘Barcelona no està en venda’… ‘Barcelona is not for sale’.
I do an about-turn, and head back towards my apartment. I take a different route to avoid the public square. I pass along recently inscribed graffiti on the walls: ‘All tourists are bastards’. ‘Why call it tourist season if we can’t shoot them?’ and ominously … ‘Tourist you are the terrorist’. This is not a good day for holiday-makers and those perceived as such.
I stop at a bakery that I occasionally go to on the way back from the beach. The girl who usually serves me is not there, and an older woman dressed in a blue tunic (perhaps the owner) acknowledges me with a perfunctory Sí. I order two baguettes, and note that the price is still the same, marked as 1,20 € for two. The woman, sheathed in blue, reluctantly parts with two baguettes, and I give her 2 €. I wait for the change. A man enters the shop, and she attends to him. Finally, she aims a Catalan death stare at me and demands I get out. ‘Turista. Aneu i no tornis’. ‘You go and don’t come back’ she rants. ‘Bastard turístic’. I am not inclined to wait for my change! I retreat to my apartment, and pour myself a drink.
I spend the rest of the afternoon ‘googling’ several web sites, about anti-tourism sentiment in Barcelona. Apparently, 15 million people spend one or more nights in Barcelona each year. And if day-trippers from cruise ships and other parts of Spain are added, the number of visitors rises to 30 million. Tourists love Barcelona, but Barcelona doesn’t always love them back. And since Barcelona is a relatively small city of 1.6 million inhabitants, the vast numbers alone place an unrelenting strain on public resources and the residents themselves. Even the tourists say there are too many tourists. Undoubtedly, there is a feeling that mass tourism creates a socioeconomic divide for the working classes, who struggle to afford apartment rentals because they are being forced out of the market by holiday-makers and the inflated prices they attract.
To add to the tension, last week four masked activists attacked a sightseeing bus near the Camp Nou football stadium, slashing the vehicle’s tyres and painting graffiti on the windscreen: ‘El Turisme Mata Els Barris’ (‘Tourism Kills Neighbourhoods’). Not surprisingly, many of those on board the bus feared that they had been caught up in a terrorist attack.
In an effort to balance the situation, several commentators—within and outside Catalonia—have argued that tourists are being turned into scapegoats for existing economic and social problems. And it stands to reason that attacks on tourists will never provide a solution for a city where tourism accounts for between 12 and 15% of the city’s GDP. Furthermore, tourism in Barcelona directly employs in the vicinity of 90,000 people. Clearly, a downturn in tourism cannot help but have a negative effect on the city’s economy and unemployment rates. As a result, there is a distinct chance that fuelling anti-tourism will create unsavoury consequences and further division. A new model for balance is needed. City Hall agrees.
For Ada Colau, the mayor of Barcelona, what is most important for the city is the development of a strategy that encourages sustainable tourism but also benefits all local people. How this can be done while preserving the traditional features of Barcelona’s old neighbourhoods is anybody’s guess. Striking this balance between the economic advantages of tourism in an age of rising global travel, and the less welcome side effects of the very same thing, will not be easy. In an effort to achieve the city council’s aims, Colau has put a moratorium on new hotels and holiday licences, as well as cracking down on unlicensed flats, including fining Airbnb for advertising illegal lodgings. But the effect of these and other planned measures remains to be seen.
I close my laptop, turn off the TV, and have another glass of wine. I am uneasy with the day’s encounters and the broader ramifications arising from them. I decide to do some shopping for dinner. In Barceloneta market I will be welcome. I know the reflective doors will open for me, then slide closed protectively behind me.
THE TERROR
[T]here is a certain form of heterotopias that I would call ‘crisis heterotopias’; that is, there are privileged or sacred or forbidden places reserved for individuals who are in a state of crisis with respect to society and the human milieu in which they live (Foucault, 1998 [1967], p. 179, Different Spaces).
Thursday, August 17th, 2017, 5:00pm.
I have just finished my Spanish language class. I exit the school, turn left into Gran via de les Corts Catalanes, and walk towards Carrer de Balmes, where I will catch the V15 bus down to Port Vell where I live. Once inside the bus I start reading the information brochure about the school’s weekend excursions, but after a few minutes I come to realise that the bus has taken a different route.
By this time, I would normally have been on my way along Carrer de Pelai at the top of Las Ramblas. But we have tracked back to Gran Via again. There are sirens sounding from all directions, and I overhear someone a few seats in front of me say that there has been an accident near Plaça de Catalunya. The bus reaches Plaça de Tetuan, then heads down to the coast. I know nothing more until I reach my apartment, and turn on the TV.
First reports from Spanish, French, and English news channels are scant and confused. Official sources confirm that a vehicle has run down pedestrians on Las Ramblas. At least two have been killed. Several injured. I am thinking again of Paris … of London, Nice, Berlin, Brussels, Beirut.
MEMORIAL
The heterotopia has the ability to juxtapose in a single real place several emplacements that are incompatible in themselves … but perhaps the oldest example of these heterotopias, in the form of contradictory emplacements, is the garden … The traditional garden of the Persians was a sacred space that is said to have joined together within its rectangular four parts representing the four parts of the world … within that figurative microcosm (Foucault, 1998 [1967], pp. 181-182, Different Spaces).
Friday, August 18, 2017, 11:50am.
It has been less than 24 hours since a terrorist steered a white van along Las Ramblas, mowing down pedestrians—tourists and locals alike—killing at least 13, and injuring upwards of a hundred. Victims came from more than 30 different countries. And it was only a few hours later, that a second ramming attack took place in the Catalan coastal town of Cambrils, just south of Barcelona, resulting in more casualties and the death of another innocent woman.
Today, I am one of several thousand that have made their way to Barcelona’s central square, Plaça de Catalunya, to pay respects to the dead and injured following yesterday’s attacks. Along the way to the plaza, remnants of the carnage remain—real and ethereal—leaving traces of mayhem that will never be erased by council cleaning. At the Canaletes fountain and at the Joan Miró mosaic the crowds slow, place flowers, light candles, whisper prayers, brush away tears. Defiance, anger, and solidarity are also evident. Some shout out ‘No tinc por!’ (‘I am not afraid!’). But the cries of passion do not hide the shock and anxiety that is palpable on the faces of many, as it must be manifest on mine.
At 12 noon, there is a minute’s silence. At the end of the silence there is deafening applause. Red and white roses are held aloft. And there is more chanting: ‘No tinc por!’ in Catalan, ‘¡Viva España!’ and ‘¡No tengo miedo!’ (‘I am not afraid!’) in Spanish.
Plaça de Catalunya has, on this day, become ‘a sacred place’. Regal and governmental gestures of unity and solidarity are also on display, with the key attendance of national and local officials, including: King Felipe VI of Spain; Mariano Rajoy, the Spanish Prime Minister; Carles Puigdemont, President of Catalonia; and Ada Colau, Mayor of Barcelona. The crowd around me—assembled within the four corners of the central square—is a more diverse worldly ensemble. Residents of the city and the surrounding regions of Catalonia join together with those from the rest of Spain. But also present are people from the UK, Australia, New Zealand, France, the Americas, Italy, Belgium, Israel, Turkey, and others from all parts of the Earth.
Terror on Las Ramblas did not care to discriminate. Nationalities, cultures, religions, politics … men, women, children … residents, holiday-makers … all together human … all human together.
I suspect that protests against tourists will not be on the immediate agenda, at least until the masses of holiday-makers return—perhaps next year or the next. Thinking back, those patches of graffiti such as, ‘Tourist you are the terrorist!’, now have meanings that are at best unfortunate, but could be described more accurately as misguided, cringeworthy, and unmistakably macabre.
RUPTURE
Perhaps we may say that some of the ideological conflicts that drive today’s polemics are enacted between the devoted descendants of time and the fierce inhabitants of space … [there exists] the problem of knowing what relations of proximity, what type of storage, of circulation, of identification, of classification of human elements are to be preferentially retained in this or that situation to obtain this or that result. We are in an age when space is presented to us in the form of relations of emplacement (Foucault, 1998 [1967], pp. 175, 177, Different Spaces).
Tuesday, October 2, 2017, 6:35pm.
I have returned to Sydney to attend to family business. It is good to be back home: to be surrounded by the beautiful Harbour, to drive on the left-hand side of the road, to have long chats with my friends in English, and especially to rekindle old, and not so old, memories. However, I am disturbed and agitated when I watch this evening’s SBS[4] news.
Violent scenes are being beamed around the world—not a crisis in Syria this time, or a military coup in Africa—but showing Spain’s Civil Guard, the national paramilitary police force, dressed in riot gear, wielding batons and firing rubber bullets into crowds of would-be voters as they queued at polling stations across Catalonia. I see a team of uniformed Catalan firefighters trying to hold off riot police at a polling station, with little effect. Men and women, old and young, are being brutalised, some forcibly dragged down stairs by the hair, others attacked with batons and shields, still others punched and left bleeding. Subsequent reports claim that more than 900 people have been treated for injuries sustained during the clashes.
What had the Catalans done to provoke such heavy-handed responses from Madrid? They had been asked to vote ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to the question: ‘Do you want Catalonia to become an independent state in the form of a republic?’ But Spain’s central government, under Prime Minister Mariano Rajoy, refused to accept this democratic challenge, citing the Constitutional Court ruling that the referendum was in breach of the 1978 constitution. Supporters of Catalan’s independence movement did not see it that way. Perhaps a violent response from Madrid’s enforcers is what the Separatists wanted—seeking kudos in victimhood, and damaging Spain’s image internationally.
How credible was the vote? The answer: Not very! Around 43% of those eligible to vote voted, and these were made up of individuals in favour of independence to start with. Catalan residents who favoured the ‘No’ vote almost entirely boycotted the poll, which had been deemed illegal, according to the proclaimed rule of law. ‘Little wonder, then, that most outside commentators concluded that the poll failed to be a true reflection of Catalan opinion, presenting no legitimacy to any claims to be made concerning a meaningful result. This did not stop Catalonia’s President, Carles Puigdemont, declaring that the region had won the right to statehood. Crucially, however, he stopped short of issuing a clear, unilateral independence declaration, thereby creating further confusion, and placing Catalonia’s present degree of autonomy in jeopardy.
In the weeks and months to come, uncertainty for both administrations—the Catalan government and the Spanish government—is likely to have widespread political, economic, and cultural repercussions, causing ripple effects throughout the Eurozone.
Is Spain, and indeed Europe, heading for unknown territory? It would seem so, given the ongoing political impasse. Tourist numbers in Barcelona have continued to fall since the terrorist attacks and simmering civil unrest. Business confidence and retail revenue has also taken a tumble. Surely this will have a flow-on effect throughout the country. Perhaps the old saying: ‘Be careful what you wish for, it might just come true’ is relevant here, because what is ‘wished for’ is often delivered in unexpected and undesirable ways.
HETEROTOPIA AS MIRROR
[W]hat interests me among all these emplacements are certain ones that have the curious property of being connected to all other emplacements, but in such a way that they suspend, neutralize, or reverse the set of relations that are designated, reflected, or represented by them … sorts of places that are outside all places, although they are actually localizable … I shall call these places ‘heterotopias’ (Foucault, 1998 [1967], p. 178, Different Spaces).
I first became aware of the term ‘heterotopia’ when studying histology and pathology as an undergraduate. In a medical sense, ‘heterotopia’ is a general term embracing all kinds of ectopic or displaced tissues (Willis, 1968, p. 267). Usually, these anomalous tissues coexist with the normal tissue type for the specific region. But when, as a student, I had cause to examine an example of heterotopia through the microscope, the presence of ‘out of place’ tissue coexisting with ‘in its place’ tissue disrupted the way I perceived what I saw—upsetting the normal order of things.
French philosopher and historian of thought, Michel Foucault—perhaps borrowing from medical discourse—outlined the notion of ‘heterotopia’ on three occasions in the period from 1966 to 1967. Foucault first referred to textual ‘spaces’ in the preface to Les Mots et les Choses[5] (The Order of Things), published in 1966 (1970 [1966], p. xviii). His concern then broadened to social and cultural ‘spaces’ on the next two occasions: in a radio broadcast Les hétérotopies, also in 1966 (Foucault, 1966); and finally, in a lecture to a group of architects Des espaces autres in 1967 (Foucault, 1998 [1967]). The transcript of the 1967 lecture was eventually published in 1984, shortly before Foucault’s death. This was subsequently translated into English by various authors. In this paper, I have used Robert Hurley’s version, entitled Different Spaces (Foucault, 1998 [1967]).
For Foucault, heterotopias relate to ‘emplacements’ by representing and, at the same time, inverting or distorting them, thereby challenging and contesting the normal or common places/spaces we live in. In other words, heterotopias have a disturbing function, one that is meant to contrast sameness and to unsettle the established order of things.
Indeed, I believe there is validity in Dehaene and De Cauter’s claim that—just as much as ‘the mirror functions as a heterotopia’ (Foucault, 1998 [1967], p. 179)—heterotopias also function as mirrors. They write:
Heterotopias are aporetic spaces that reveal or represent something about society in which they reside through the way in which they incorporate and stage the very contradictions that this society produces but is unable to resolve … First, heterotopia is introduced as the antipode of utopia, the latter being imaginary, heterotopias being real arrangements, i.e. the way in which utopias crystalize in realized form. At the same time heterotopias are introduced as … the other of normal places, common places. Their placement at the intersection of these two axes real/imaginary (utopia-heterotopia) and normal/other (topos-heterotopos) makes these heterotopias into mirroring spaces (Dehaene & De Cauter, 2008, p. 25).
Following on from Dehaene and De Cauter’s assertion, I need to point out that as ‘mirroring spaces’ at the intersection of ‘real/imaginary’ and ‘normal/other’ axes, heterotopias have the potential not only to distort, alienate, and confront … but also to generate productive perceptions of a newly-acquired sociocultural milieu and, in turn, a positive (often different) perception of ourselves.
I shall now provide a brief description of the notion of heterotopias as ‘mirroring’ places/spaces (les emplacements) drawing upon my own first-hand experiences in Barcelona. To do this, I will focus on Foucault’s concept of heterotopia to show how dynamic interactions inside and outside the Barceloneta market (el mercat de la Barceloneta) provide a greater understanding of my emplacement in a different cultural space.
In the transcript of Different Spaces (1998 [1967]) Foucault provides several examples of heterotopia, but not a precise definition. He did, however, list a series of principles whose meaning continues to vacillate and mutate, according to interpretations related to the society and culture focussed upon, and the time and place/space in question. Despite the inherent fuzziness of Foucault’s examples, a review of his list of ‘principles’ is a helpful way to analyse the concept of heterotopia, as it applies to Barceloneta market.
Foucault’s first principle states that heterotopias are present in ‘every human group’, but they may demonstrate a diversity of forms. Markets like the one in Barceloneta are key elements in perceiving, appreciating, and understanding the workings and history of the neighbourhood and its surrounding district. Indeed, the function of many of the comings and goings of those who pass through the marketplace relates to social interaction, rather than the act of shopping. On a personal level, this space inside the market feels different than the space outside. Inside I am well known, and comfortable with the people I meet and with whom I communicate. Outside there are times when anti-tourist sentiment—since I am often taken as a tourist—is unsettling.
The second principle of heterotopia is that it can mutate, and have different operations and significance, depending on the history and the ‘synchrony of the culture’ in which it is found. In this, I am well aware that even though Barceloneta market was originally constructed in the late 19th century, upheavals during the Spanish civil war, pre- and post- Olympic Games, and its more-recent structural upgrading, have resulted in episodes of social change that transcend the composition of the place/space itself. When I enter through the reflective sliding doors of the market façade, and proceed past the historical exhibition in the foyer, I cannot help but be aware of my heterotopic emplacement in a culture different from the one in which I am most familiar.
Foucault’s third principle relates how heterotopias have the ability to ‘juxtapose in a single real place’ several elements that are incompatible in themselves. Inside the market this is easy to observe. Amid many kinds of food stalls and non-food displays there are bars, restaurants, and an ensemble of different types of people. The marketplace in Barceloneta hosts a subtle mixture of relations in a melting pot of ‘juxtapositions’. And yet, these incompatible elements—commercial, industrial, gastronomical, theatrical, social—are in harmony.
The fourth principle encapsulates temporal discontinuities and accumulations. Barceloneta market carries with it a history of over 130 years. As such, the accumulation of time is apparent in the physical structure of the building, but this accumulation of time and culture is also entwined into the daily habits of the people who come there. Sometimes, however, this rhythmic passage of time is put on hold while the market enjoys its regular festivities. Such discontinuities exemplify what Foucault refers to as ‘time in its most futile, most transitory and precarious aspect’ (1998 [1967], p. 182). Having enjoyed so many of these Barceloneta festivals—ensconced in Catalan traditions, cuisine, and wine—I question the ‘futile’ and ‘precarious’ nature of the occasions to which Foucault refers. Momentarily, the normal order of things is disrupted, and replaced by a space of freedom. Here, I dissolve into the collective.
The fifth principle of heterotopias presupposes an ambivalent system of opening/closing, entry/exit that isolates them and makes them penetrable at the same time. In the market, there are obvious opening and closing times which satisfy this principle, but Foucault’s postulate implies much more than this, since he goes on to state that ‘[e]verybody can enter these heterotopian emplacements, but this is only an illusion: one believes he is going inside and, by the very fact of entering, one is excluded’ (1998 [1967], p. 183). I can see how this implied exclusion has relevance to transitory visitors such as tourist groups who, in the centrally located Mercat de Sant Josep de la Boqueria off Las Ramblas, crowd the marketplace taking ‘selfies’ and photographs of the displays, without any intention of buying. Thankfully, this tourist invasion is less evident at the Barceloneta market. And yet, even for non-tourists such as myself, language barriers or cultural differences inhibit any meaningful conversation other than routine greetings, pleasantries, and orders for purchases.
The sixth and final trait of these heterotopias is that they have, as put by Foucault, ‘a function in relation to the remaining space’ (1998 [1967], p. 184). Here, there is the conspicuous benefit to the surrounding neighbourhood of having a nearby market for all the reasons I have previously mentioned, but I also believe that the function of the marketplace extends beyond this overt utilitarian function. For me, the marketplace—as heterotopic mirror—has become a place/space where differences between illusion and reality have become blurred. In some respects, my experience of Barceloneta market in 2017 represents a different emplacement than the one I experienced twelve months before, when I first moved to the area. And while the present version of my emplacement helps me in my everyday life in the Barceloneta barrio, I am reminded, through the axes of synchrony and difference (topos-heterotopos), that I am still coexisting ‘out of place’ in a space that is ‘in its place’.[6]
CONCLUSION
Day-to-day we are challenged from without (people, spaces, words, things), and we are challenged from within (self-doubt, self-conflict, self-deception). But what we see as being a challenge, always comes from a particular perspective, which in turn shapes our perception of what is important and unimportant. Yet, if we were to persist in limiting our perspectives, a diverse and varied ‘ensemble’ of linked forms—what Foucault refers to as a ‘thoroughly heterogeneous ensemble’ (Foucault & Gordon, 1980, p. 194)[7]—would potentially go unnoticed.
Following on from this, and relatively late in my life, I have had the opportunity of experiencing a unique perspective—contrary to the one I had been used to—entering into a mirror of cultural difference. In this case Barceloneta (Little Barcelona) has been my heterotopia, my emplacement of disruption, but also one of positivity, that paradoxically has given me a deeper understanding of my own native culture … and myself.
The image I first saw of ‘me’ in the reflective façade of Barceloneta market a year or so ago, is not the same image I perceive of myself today, nor will it be the same one that I see in future times. This mirrored trace of my-self is a sign of many other things as well, and indeed the order and disorder of these ‘things’ continues on and on, always in a state of flux. My experiences and memories are fragmented too, and so is my fragmented self, fragment upon fragment: ‘partial in all its guises, never finished, whole … it is always constructed and stitched together imperfectly’ (Haraway, 1988, p. 586).
These excerpts from my time in Barcelona are only part of the story. Reflections, mirrors. Real ‘things’. Imaginary ‘things’. An ensemble of fragmentations. Always fragments … fragments.
The order of these ‘things’ is never certain. Never settled. Sequences of time, place/space, and selfhood are unresolved. It is the way these elements are ‘stitched together’ that matters most—eased along by what Foucault refers to as ‘relations of emplacement’ (1998 [1967], p. 177).
Through the heterotopic mirror, I have become vulnerable and empowered at the same time.
REFERENCES
Beckett, A., Bagguley, P., & Campbell, T. (2017). Foucault, social movements and heterotopic horizons: Rupturing the order of things. Social Movement Studies, 16(2), 168-181.
Boer, R. W. J., & Vries, J. d. (2009). The right to the city as a tool for urban social movements: The case of Barceloneta. Paper presented at the The 4th Conference of the International Forum on Urbanism, Amsterdam/Delft.
Brandi, S. (2009). Barceloneta Market: MiAS Arquitectes.
Dehaene, M., & De Cauter, L. (Eds.). (2008). Heterotopia and the city: Public space in a postcivil society. London: Routledge.
Foucault, M. (1966, December 7) Utopie et littérature. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RC7qhps2HMM.
Foucault, M. (1970 [1966]). The order of things: An archaeology of the human sciences. London: Tavistock Publications.
Foucault, M. (1998 [1967]). Different Spaces (R. Hurley, Trans.). In J. D. Faubion (Ed.), Aesthetics, Method, and Epistemology (pp. 175-185). London: Penguin Books.
Foucault, M., & Gordon, C. (1980). Power/knowledge: Selected interviews and other writings, 1972-1977 (C. Gordon, L. Marshall, J. Mepham, & K. Soper, Trans.). New York: The Harvester Press.
Haraway, D. (1988). Situated knowledges: The science question in feminism and the privilege of partial perspective. Feminist Studies, 14(3), 575-599.
Helten, M. (2015). Heterotopia and cultural activism – The case of Hamburg’s Gängeviertel. DIE ERDE Journal of the Geographical Society of Berlin, 146(2-3), 165-174.
Johnson, P. (2012). History of the concept of heterotopia. Heterotopia Studies. Retrieved from http://www.heterotopiastudies.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/05/2.1-History-of-Concept.pdf
McHugh, T. (2016 [2013]). Faces inside and outside the clinic: A Foucauldian perspective on cosmetic facial modification. London, New York: Routledge, Taylor & Francis Group.
Sohn, H. (2008). Heterotopia: Anamnesis of a medical term. In M. Dehaene & L. De Cauter (Eds.), Heterotopia and the city: Public space in a postcivil society (pp. 41-50). London: Routledge.
Tóibín, C. (2002). Homage to Barcelona. London: Picador, Pan Macmillan.
Willis, R. A. (1968). Some unusual developmental heterotopias. British Medical Journal, 3, 267-272.
[1] Heterotopia denotes the contraction of ‘hetero’ (another, different) and ‘topos’ (place). French philosopher Michel Foucault used the term as an opposition to utopia, and as a means of simultaneously reflecting and contesting the spaces we inhabit, be they architectural, urban, social, and/or cultural. Essentially, Foucault’s heterotopias are meant to challenge and re-examine established orders (Sohn, 2008, pp. 41-45).
[2] The term ‘emplacement’ (l’emplacement) in French has a certain plasticity that does not translate well into English. L’emplacement refers to site, but also has a relational sense involving location and support. In other words, ‘emplacement’ has a sense of both space and place: ‘space’ being more abstract than ‘place’; ‘place’ being more tangible than ‘space’ (Dehaene & De Cauter, 2008, pp. 23-24; Johnson, 2012, p. 4).
[3] Barrio is the Spanish word for ‘neighbourhood’.
[4] SBS (Special Broadcasting Service) is an Australian multi-media public broadcasting network.
[5] Les Mots et les Choses, in English, means ‘Words and Things’.
[6] In view of the Separatist movement in the region, there is reason to regard the perceived ‘out of place’ emplacement of Catalonia within Spain as being another example of heterotopia. See (Beckett, Bagguley, & Campbell, 2017; Helten, 2015).
[7] Foucault uses ‘thoroughly heterogeneous ensemble’ in his description and definition of the function of the dispositif (Foucault & Gordon, 1980, p. 194). I have argued elsewhere that the dispositif is a key concept associated with Foucault’s transition from an archaeological method of analysis to a genealogical method. With reference to networking, linkages, and ‘emplacement’, I posit that Foucault’s use of the phrase ‘relations of emplacement’ in Different Spaces (1998 [1967], p. 177), foreshadows his later ideas on the dispositif as a ‘system of relations’ (1980, p. 194), leading on to a detailed analysis and expansion of the notion of ‘power/knowledge’ and its practical application (McHugh, 2016 [2013], pp. 76-77).
Medbeat Media 