The City in History

The City in History is a magnum opus, a veritable bouillabaisse of a book. Long, slow but for all that, a good and interesting read. With a modesty that contrasts with his writing style, Mumford apologises for having to limit his story to the cities of what he calls Western civilisation.

My first introduction to this heavyweight was not in its 656 page form but in the flickering black and white of film projected in our lecture room. This was our introduction to urban design. Why film? In 1963 the National Film Board of Canada took Mumford’s book and made it into six documentaries; their motivation is believed to have been to promote a greater appreciation of the value of Canada’s built heritage. The early sixties were a time of comprehensive development and there was a fear that much of Canada’s historic urban fabric would be lost.

Whether the films saved historic Canada I can’t say, but in an attempt to discover what impact these films and ultimately the book had on my fellow students, I emailed a very small but international group of them and asked ‘Did they remember the book? Had they read the book? Had the book influenced them during their professional lives?’ The French Canadian said that while he remembered a big heavy book, he couldn’t remember reading it and it had had little influence on his working life. Our Japanese fellow student remembered it well, he had read it in English but not in the Japanese version he bought for his institute’s library. The Swiss student remembered it well and was sure he still had it somewhere. He was concerned that Mumford had not looked long enough at the ‘prospects’. My German friend however, was much more impressed. He had read it in German before starting the course, and had found Mumford’s focus on the social aspects of the city a useful contrast to the mechanistic approach to planning that he was forced to employ in the office. The book had such an effect on my German friend that it made him seek out a planning course in Edinburgh. It is interesting that the Scottish influence shines through the book. Mumford himself was strongly influenced by Patrick Geddes. Disappointingly, my English contact said he had read the book but it had had little impact on his life or work.

What do I recollect? My copy is well thumbed, covered with marginalia. Its influence was not obvious. It’s not that sort of book. Mumford’s scope is wide and his writing discursive, sometimes repetitive. It displays enormous scholarship and a great breadth of reading. It is a book in which to immerse oneself, to settle in a leather chair in an Ivy League common room, and let the quiet voice of academic discussion wash over you. Unlike current writers, Mumford slips occasionally into purple prose. Talking of the contribution Roman engineers made to the hygiene of the city Mumford writes; ‘…To investigate this… one must fortify oneself for an ordeal; to enjoy it, one must keep one’s eyes open, but learn to close one’s nose to the stench, one’s ears to the screams of anguish and terror, one’s gullet to the retching of one’s own stomach…’

Do not let style distract from Mumford’s achievement. He traces the human, with an emphasis on the human city, from an organic shelter to end with a fear that totalitarian forces are emerging that will destroy the humane and organic character that he perceives has characterised the city of the past. There are 18 chapters; the first eight examine the prehistoric city and its evolution into the classic city. Rereading these first chapters Mumford’s view of the city as an organic community linked to place becomes clear. His regret at the loss of status of women as the focus of the community, following the change from an agrarian village to a defensive centre, is notable when the date of publication is considered. It is perhaps not surprising that he emphasises the importance of community and location as defining characteristics of a city: Mumford was after all a social scientist not an architect or town planner.

His social scientist interest pervades the second next six chapters. These focus largely on the European city of the 14th to 18th centuries. Mumford seems most at home with this period, as it fits his Geddesian ‘folk, place, work’ image of the world.

The last four chapters begin to show what Jane Jacobs described as Mumford’s ‘morbid and factious manner’. He worried about the dispersal of the city, its loss of focus and the growth of totalitarian control. He saw the damage caused by the Second World War as a great opportunity for recreating the city and considered the new towns programme as a positive step in this direction. Its success was, he felt, marred by a return to ‘pyramidbuilding’. Mumford may have helped create the word and defined the concept of Megalopolis, but in The City in History, he does not welcome its emergence. He fears for a world where mankind fails to escape its ‘blind commitment to a lopsided power-orientated, anti-organic technology’.

The origins and transformations of the city in the book’s subtitle are extensively covered, but Mumford’s view of the city’s ‘prospects’ are examined with regret and even a degree of fear. He claims that ‘no profit-orientated, pleasure-dominated economy can cope with’ demands of growing populations. It is Mumford’s perception that impresses in this last section of the book. He saw the emergence of the global city and, although it did not exist in the 60s, he predicted the emergence of electronic communications and understood that man could ‘think global act local’.

Does the book have relevance today? As a means of understanding our clients, urban dwellers, it cannot be bettered; as a source of subliminal inspiration, it may be quite effective. I found much that rang familiar bells when rereading the book.