Fighting for Public Space

Edvard Ravnikar’s (1903-1993) architectural design practice has much to do with the public space issue. The projects he realized in Ljubljana, Nova Gorica, Kranj, Celje, and other Slovenian towns and cities after WWII tell stories of social processes that took place in the country, from national liberation to civil society protests. They played a role in urbanization and the industrialization-driven post-war Slovene social progress. Still, most importantly, they continue to open up questions that never lose relevance as they keep coming up through the fight for public space. The fight has become a constant in the face of gentrification and privatization.

If by definition a public space is a place that is open and accessible to all, it has, on the other hand, also become something of a touchstone for critical theory in relation to philosophy, urban geography, visual art, cultural studies, social studies, and urban design.[1] Public spaces have often been valued as democratic venues of congregation and political participation, where any social group could express their point of view. Perhaps this is where one should ask how Ravnikar’s architecture could shape public space design in the future.

Historically, public space in Western culture was limited to village and town centers, plazas, and church squares, as a rule around a central monument that informed the program of the space. Although they originally emerged as marketplaces,[2] they acted as the “commons” of the people, spaces of free flow, as a political, social, and cultural arena. Jürgen Habermas related the concept of the public sphere with the development of democracy. “We call events and occasions ‘public’ when they are open to all, in contrast to closed or exclusive affairs. This 'public sphere' is a realm of our social life in which something approaching public opinion can be formed. Access is guaranteed to all citizens.”[3]

The Square of the Republic in Ljubljana, formerly the Square of the Revolution, neither evolved from a medieval square nor was it originally marked by a monument. It was built on ancient remains, on the site where the northern walls of the Roman city Emona had once stood. Later, the Counts of Turjak created a large, Baroque-style garden there, which in the 18th century became a part of the Ursuline monastery and allowed the nuns to be self-sufficient. Between the world wars, the city authorities turned the margins of the garden into a residential area. The resentment over the fact that the garden itself was also built up after World War II, together with added ideological and political symbols, still lingers. But it is the events of the last 30 years and more that resonate the most. The history of the square evokes the social and political changes that have swept across the country in the last three decades. And while democracy and public space do not entirely coincide, it is the potential of their intersection that carries political weight.

The more than two decades-long construction of the square began in 1963 with a parking garage and ended with the construction of the Cankarjev Dom Cultural and Congress Center in 1982.

A walk across the Square of the Republic brings back memories of events that have left an indelible mark on this space. Or was it the space that has left its mark on the events? It was here the first Slovene President Milan Ku?an declared Slovenia’s independence on 26 June 1991. The first raising of the new national flag took place here, establishing the square as the symbol of the Slovenian state and its independence. Other images also come to mind, those as protests of different civil society movements, truth rallies, assemblies for the republic, and confrontations that come with democratic tensions. Recent protests that took place during the pandemic reaffirmed the “right to the city” concept as protesters demanded freedom of movement, fighting against the restrictions that banned them from using public space.

The right to the city concept was first articulated by French philosopher Henri Lefebvre in his 1968 book Le droit à la ville, in which he argued that urban space should not be controlled solely by market forces, such as commodification and capitalism, but should be shaped and governed by the citizens who inhabit it. Urban spaces are meant to be inclusive, democratic and accessible to all citizens.[4]

Revolution Square is enclosed on one side by the parliament building as the political symbol and the Maximarket department store, bank tower, and business tower as the symbols of consumerism and capitalism, and on the other side by Cankarjev Dom cultural and congress center, the symbol of increasingly “state-led” culture. Monuments constitute a special layer of the square. The largest is the monument to the revolution, the work of sculptor Drago Tr?ar and architect Vladimir Braco Mu?i?. In 1982, the monument to Ivan Cankar was unveiled in front of Cankarjev Dom to the design of Slavko Tihec. Not far stands Matja? Po?ivav?ek’s sculpture, marking the entrance to the bank. On Milan Ku?an’s initiative, we are soon to see another monument erected there – a monument to independence. The question is, however, whether society today still needs physical symbols for its manifestations, or have they outlived their purpose? We have the legitimate right to ask what the monument to independence will depict. Which image will bring the divided nation together?

As our cities are becoming increasingly (socially, economically, culturally, and ethnically) segregated, the opportunities for public interaction are diminishing and social media have taken over the role of certain public space functions. John Chase noted: “The importance of voluntary and compulsory participation in civic life has been usurped by the awareness of the arbitrariness of assigned cultural meanings and by the increasingly important role that the consumption of goods and services plays in the formation of individual identity.”[2] Privately owned buildings and spaces that we see from pavements and thoroughfares are increasingly shaping our visual landscape through outdoor advertising, café tables and chairs, enclosures, and other physical interventions. Public places turning private through concessions or leases is the privatization of public space, a frequent by-product of urban renewal. Modern society has withdrawn from public life that used to physically shape urban centers. Political and social needs can be satisfied from home, through online opinion forums. Michael Sorkin’s declaration of “the end of public space”[3] reflects the same sentiment. The other side of the coin would be that regardless of its form, physical or virtual, public space is always inherently exclusionary and contradictory. The concepts of public space, democracy, and citizenship must be redefined by users through lived experience. “The realization of urban society calls for a planning oriented towards social needs… It necessitates a science of the city (of relations and correlations in urban life). Although necessary, these conditions are not sufficient. A social and political force capable of putting these means into oeuvres is equally indispensable.”[5]

This is why public spaces undergo constant change – they are battlegrounds of various interests, arenas where conflicts take place. Their users react by constantly restructuring the physical space. The historic ideal of a fixed public space around a monument is no longer viable for the diverse contemporary social palette, for there is no physical space that can represent a completely inclusive “space of democracy”. Is the same true for symbols?