From the 1920s onwards, the Modernist movement defined a new conception of the city. By proposing a “coherent set of reasoning principles recognized and used as a reference,” it set itself up as an urban paradigm (Héran 2015, p. 33), with functionalism, technicism, the rejection of all heritage, standardization, and residential segregation constituting its focal points (Allain 2004). Le Corbusier’s 1971 Athens Charter, in which “leisure and recreation” is one of the four key functions of urban planning, required that all new residential areas include “the green areas necessary for the natural development of children’s games and sports” (Le Corbusier 1971, p. 21). It did not ignore the needs of the very young, but assigned them to specifically dedicated spaces. In terms of traffic, this trend advocates modal separation as well as motorized speed, [1] and often results in a disregard for pedestrians and cyclists, coupled with a priority given to the automobile (Héran 2020).
In Europe, the large-scale housing projects of the second half of the 20th century were inspired by these ideas, and took the form of standardized, universal, collective housing units, located away from socially homogeneous historical urban cores, and with play areas reserved for the youngest members of society. External access was designed for the car, while internal access was based on horizontal and sometimes vertical modal separation, like the pedestrian decks of certain new towns (Allain 2004).
And yet, built during a period dominated by this paradigm, Norway’s large-scale housing estates are at odds with it. What is so special about the spatial configuration of these areas, and what does it express? This article, based on a survey carried out in four residential areas in the cities of Tromsø and Oslo, argues that the respect shown to motorized vehicles reveals the special attention paid to children.
Neighborhoods where cars are kept in check
Although they represent a minority of neighborhoods in Norway, large suburban housing projects began to be developed in the 1970s. Three of them are located in the Furuset district, 6 kilometers (3.7 miles) from downtown Oslo—Grandstangen Borettslag (large apartment buildings), Kurlandstien 2‑58 (small apartment buildings), and Søndre Fjeldstad Borettslag (semi-detached housing)—while the fourth is located in the Kroken district, 5 kilometers (3 miles) from the historic urban core of Tromsø—Granittvegen Borettslag (semi-detached housing).
An analysis of the spatial organization of these areas and their internal connections reveals features that go beyond the three principles of simple modal separation, mechanical speed and the assignment of children to areas specifically dedicated to them. First and foremost, these large complexes are organized into sub-assemblies. The layout of the buildings delimits central public spaces, dedicated to social activities directly visible from the dwellings (Figure 1). The presence of street furniture for children’s games or outdoor dining (benches, tables and barbecues) testifies to the extension of private space—that of the kitchen, balcony or garden—onto shared outdoor areas, a sign of the domestication of urban space, under the visual control of residents.
Motor traffic and parking are strictly limited and controlled (Figure 2). As close as possible to the dwellings, they are prohibited, with the exception of loading and unloading movements and access for people with reduced mobility. These service roads are narrow enough to prevent two vehicles from passing each other. In the absence of an established right-of-way, motorized traffic is governed by the rules of courtesy, encouraging motorists to exercise caution. Parking is only permitted in dedicated areas away from residential areas. The route between the parking space and the private entrance to the home is then via a network of pedestrian and bicycle paths, creating a spatial discontinuity of several dozen meters between these two spaces (Figures 3 and 4). This imposed load break puts the flexibility of door-to-door transport into perspective, and reduces the performance of the car.
A cross-analysis of these spaces reveals a shift away from motorized flows, in favor of social activities and active traffic (Figure 5). Conceived as early as the 1970s, this configuration counters the dominant paradigm of the time, in that it goes beyond simple modal separation to take on a segregative dimension. The automobile is excluded and relegated to a peripheral position, outside the neighborhood. When they are tolerated, their speed is restricted. As a result, the youngest residents have not just dedicated, secure blocks in their neighborhoods, but residential areas as a whole, designed with them in mind. This testifies to the ability of the property developers and social landlords of the time, to whom the State had entrusted the construction of these complexes, to have distanced themselves from the then dominant doctrines, a sign, it seems to me, of an early awareness of the negative externalities of the automobile and of great sensitivity to the specific needs of children.
Hospitable spatial designs for children
The principles that determine the layout of these spaces echo the work of American architect and urban planner Louis Kahn (1901–1974). Considered to be the first to show concern for children, in the 1950s he devised an alternative model for Philadelphia’s residential neighborhoods, based around dead-end automobile lanes, with a network of paths and plazas away from automobile traffic, intended primarily for the youngest children (Weber 2015). The correspondence between these planning principles and the spatial configuration of Norwegian collective neighborhoods is strong. In both cases, the layout has the effect of protecting public spaces from automobile traffic.
Architect Solveig L. Christiansen has been involved in the design of several major Norwegian developments, including Søndre Fjeldstad Borettslag, for property developer Obos. Claiming in 2018 that this project was designed to be “child-friendly, user-friendly and car-free”, [2] she highlights a form of incompatibility between motorized traffic and the autonomous presence of children in public space. More generally, when she returns to the considerations that guided her work in the 1970s, references to children [3] and to the need to offer them pedestrian spaces [4] are numerous. The low prevalence of the car in these neighborhoods reflects this concern for the youngest members of society, which an analysis of several public spaces dedicated to children tends to confirm.
As a French observer, I was surprised by the originality and diversity of the children’s facilities (Figure 6). Verdenspark, for example, in the Furuset district, features a stretch of water punctuated by rocks (Figure 7). This water playground has a dual purpose: when temperatures are positive, children climb the rocks and jump from one to the other, creating their own course. In winter, its shallow depth turns it into an ice rink in sub-zero temperatures. Without any special protection, this facility offers, through an admittedly measured risk-taking, “material for exploration, where the child invents trials and plays with himself” (Garnier 2015). This distance from the “imperative search for the least risk” (Gayet-Viaud et al. 2015) results in a play space that is both unmarked and secure, leaving more room for indeterminacy than for expected behavior, unlike a swing or slide.
© G. Tortosa, avril 2019.
Another playground located near Oslo’s Vulkan eco-neighborhood (Nedre Foss Park, figure 8), offers children furniture that doesn’t invite codified behavior, but instead opens the door to original, unanticipated play. Thanks to its inclined surface covered with a shock-absorbing layer, this artificial topography offers an infinite number of play possibilities. Children can lie down, climb or descend in a variety of ways (jumping, walking, running, “crawling”, letting gravity “roll” them or slaloming between the stakes). Yet it is the margin of indeterminacy in being and uncertainty that underpins the very existence of play (Caillois 1967; Henriot 1969). This, we believe, is precisely what makes these spaces so original. In addition to responding to the three forms of play - the pursuit of competition, vertigo and simulacra (Caillois 1967) - they were designed for young people, who, unlike adults, conform less to expected uses. Their configuration testifies to the ability of designers and the willingness of decision-makers to take into account the specific characteristics of children, i.e. the evolving and unpredictable aspects of their temperament - in other words, to go beyond an “adult-centric” approach. Non-prescriptive, they offer a vagueness of use, an equivocality that gives children a sense of autonomy and frees their creative potential, while accepting the tumult and risk inherent in improvisation (Curnier 2014).
© Grégoire Tortosa, October 2021.
Another unique feature of these play areas is their integration into their environment. Located in public spaces free from motorized traffic, they are directly open to the outside world, without fences. Thus, the trend observed elsewhere towards “islandization,” i.e. the confinement of children in enclosed play spaces (Christensen et al. 2000), advocated by the Modern Movement, which goes hand in hand with the further decline of their autonomous presence in the street (Gayet-Viaud et al. 2015; Garnier 2015), is not found. Studies carried out in France and Italy have shown the impact of automobile traffic on the disappearance of youngsters from public spaces, through a dual effect of reducing the available play space and the perception of the risks involved (Rivière 2021). In Norway, playgrounds are less safe and less marked out, as they are located in urban spaces that are more hospitable to children.
Regulations that also take the very youngest into consideration
The regulations illustrate the singular attention paid to children by Norwegian society. Since 1989, [5] the Norwegian government has required each municipality to appoint a person to represent the interests of young people in urban projects. Since 1995, they have also been required to include an assessment of the impact on children and teenagers in their impact studies for development projects. [6]
This regulatory sensitivity towards young people is also reflected in road signs. A comparative analysis of French and Norwegian signs is interesting in this respect. Whereas in the case of the “home zone”, the Norwegian sign is tinged with a domestic dimension, taking up the figure of the home and the child for whom the street is a space for play, its French equivalent remains in a circulatory and “adultocentric” register, where only a pedestrian, a cyclist and a motorist are represented, with no reference to the child, play or the home. The same applies to the signs announcing a greenway, where only the Norwegian sign features the figure of the child (Figure 9).
The representation of the child, not as an incomplete being-in-the-making, but as an already fully active citizen, as well as the idea of a social world that would not be reduced to that of adults (Gayet-Viaud et al. 2015) emerges from the study of the public spaces studied. If “any analysis of the street is also a look at a conception […] of society” (Allain 2004, p. 155), the particular layout of residential neighborhoods appears as the physical and spatial materialization of the notable thoughtfulness shown towards the most vulnerable in Norway, especially children. It remains to be seen, however, to what extent the Norwegian social context, relatively untouched by social exclusion and inequality, has contributed to the establishment and maintenance of conditions favorable to children, where elsewhere in Europe social tensions and security problems are often concentrated.
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