Architecture_MPS Emancipating the Image: The Beijing Olympics, Regeneration, and the Power of Performance

: “In China, what makes an image true is that it is good for people to see it.” - Susan Sontag, On Photography, 1971 In The Practice of Everyday Life , Michel de Certeau gazes down upon New York City from the 110 th floor of the World Trade Centre and sees the island of Manhattan as an image. In particular, he witnesses the famous Manhattan skyline as a powerful ‘image-text’ containing a multiplicity of meanings, interpretations, and symbols. Considering the possibilities of the city as visual simulacrum he asks: “[i]s the immense texturology spread out before one’s eyes anything more than a representation; an optical artefact?” Twenty or so years after De Certeau wandered the streets of New York and pondered its pictorial power, such a perspective can be applied to Olympic and Post Olympic Beijing. The Olympic Games gave the world an opportunity to read Beijing’s powerful image-text following thirty years of rapid transformation. David Harvey argues that this transformation has turned Beijing from “a closed backwater, to an open centre of capitalist dynamism.” However, in the creation of this image-text, another subtler and altogether very different image-text has been deliberately erased from the public gaze. This more concealed image-text offers a significant counter narrative on the city’s public image and criticises the simulacrum constructed for the 2008 Olympics, both implicitly and explicitly. It is the ‘everyday’ image-text of a disappearing city still in the process of being bulldozed to make way for the neoliberal world’s next megalopolis. It exists most prominently as a filmic image text; in film documentaries about a ‘real’ hidden Beijing just below the surface of the government sponsored ‘optical artefact.’ Film has thus become a key medium through which to understand and preserve a physical city on the verge of erasure.

artefact?" 1 Twenty or so years after De Certeau wandered the streets of New York and pondered its pictorial power, such a perspective can be applied to Olympic and Post Olympic Beijing.
The Olympic Games gave the world an opportunity to read Beijing's powerful image-text following thirty years of rapid physical and socio-economic transformation. David Harvey argues that this transformation has turned Beijing from "a closed backwater, to an open centre of capitalist dynamism." 2 However, in the creation of this image-text, another subtler, older and altogether very different image-text has been deliberately erased from the public gaze. This more concealed image-text offers a significant counter narrative on the city's public image and criticises the virtual simulacrum constructed for the 2008 Olympics, both implicitly and explicitly. It is the 'everyday' image-text of a disappearing city that is still in the process of being bulldozed to make way for the neoliberal world's next megalopolis. It exists most prominently as a filmic image text; in film documentaries about a 'real' hidden Beijing just below the surface of the government sponsored 'optical artefact.' Film has thus become a key medium through which to understand and preserve a physical city on the verge of erasure.
Every four years, the Olympics not only showcases sport but exhibits the political, economic and aesthetic prowess of its host city. In many cases, as in that of Beijing, it is used to re-brand the host as a 'global city.' In the Beijing case, this formed part of a broader attempt to demonstrate China's growing international status which has seen it undergo enormous, and at times complex and controversial, 'image maintenance.' In the years between winning the bid and the grand execution of the Olympic project, the city saw the construction of what Xuefei Ren calls, 'new State spaces'; spaces developed entirely for the accommodation of 'transnational architectural production'; the construction of buildings whose function was to increase the circulation of both symbolic and investment capital. 3 These new, globally connected spaces and their 'statescrafts,' 4 were part of an interrelated urban renewal programme that helped to redefine Beijing's image, integrate it into the global business community, and improve the reputation of the nation at large.
Since the early days of the reform period, the creation of a visual image for Beijing as a global city has been an official objective. In order to adopt this "global city look," international architects have been getting invited by the government to collaborate on joint venture projects for years; the aim being to target foreign investment and tourism. 5 In a sense, the Olympics were just the latest phase of an ongoing process that arguably injected much needed public resources into the long term project, and garnered public support for it at a crucial moment. It helped transform and reconfigure the city generally, and turned specific impoverished residential areas into gentrified hotspots -through huge infrastructural investments and the development of numerous tourist and consumer spaces.
However, issues of consent are key to 'image maintenance' during such phases of high profile development, as the acquisition of symbolic capital through the neoliberalisation of urban space has real tangible impacts on people's lives. In her 2007 essay on the 'conspicuous construction' of an Olympic metropolis, Anne Marie Broudehoux claims that the Chinese government's diversion of large sums of public money, resources and time, into building the spectacle of Olympic Beijing, actually contributed to the 'profound inequalities that have come to epitomise China's transition to capitalism within an autocratic political system.' 6 She goes on to suggest that the brutality of China's economic rise was highlighted with unusual clarity by the race to transform Beijing into an Olympic spectacle; as this spectacle depended largely on the exploitation of cheap labour, and the State's ability to confiscate land from residents in the name of 'public interest. ' 7 She suggests that in securing mass compliance for its hegemonic architectural and urban reformulations, the Olympics was bound up with a State legislative agenda. That agenda was mobilised by political actors such as the media, and was intended to provide an intoxicating 'value based discourse' that would 'boost morale,' but which would also 'instil fear' into potential dissenters. 8 With regard to morale, particular cultural and traditional values, such as nationalism and civic pride, were 'rejuvenated with Olympic spirit' to work as both a distraction, and justification, for large-scale transformations that were resulting in significant local upheaval. To contain dissent, and therefore 'maintain image,' heightened security measures such as an increased use of CCTV and an increased military presence on the streets, were brought to the fore. It was a highly visible approach to civil discipline that justified itself by placing emphasis on public safety and protection, but which reconfigured the question of security around discourses of fear. It was through a combination of these techniques, calling upon national sentiment and inducing fear amongst dissenters, that the huge social and spatial changes required could be carried out with little public scrutiny and general consent.
Despite such spectacular efforts to mask reality and sedate the masses, resistance to changes was inevitable. However, in an authoritarian state where public protest and dissent are heavily suppressed, struggles over such brutal changes often took place in the realm of the symbolic. 9 As protest against global performance and representation was often carried out at a local level, it also became a struggle between the global and the local. Broudehoux highlights the attempts of many exploited Beijing citizens to draw media attention to their injustices; something particularly prevalent amongst overworked and unpaid construction workers and residents of demolished localities, who were forcibly evicted from their ARCHITECTURE_MEDIA_POLITICS_SOCIETY Vol. 2, no.1. January 2013 homes. 10 In some cases, the only way that powerless citizens could publicly protest was by jumping off high-rise buildings which, at the time, became a relatively common form of suicide. It was dubbed locally tiao lou xia (jumping off buildings to show). 11 The concept of 'showing' is key here, as is reclaiming the spectacle. The aim was to reclaim the 'power of showing,' or simply the 'power of being seen.' The mainstream media has the power to show, but also to not show. Censoring the presentation of these protests was not only key to lessening the chance for wider resistance to local developments, it was also analogous to the government's 'censoring' of Beijing's public face; the eviction and demolition of old, low-income communities literally censoring all visible signs of poverty and backwardness from the city centre.

China's Image Problem and Olympic Solution: The City Brand
The Olympics, like all mega events held in large globalising cities, is about 'being looked at.' According to some commentators such as Del Olmo, Broudehoux and Poynter, hosting this kind of mega-event is nothing more than a conspicuous form of global competitiveness and a highly visible strategy for financing and accelerating urban development. 12 Michel de Certeau's perspective on Manhattan's 'image text' in the early 1980s, underscored this idea through the phenomenon of city rebranding. In this context the image maintenance of New York is an attempt to fit in with, and promote, the city and its free market agenda.
Following this, David Harvey regards 1970s New York City as the first global city to strategically reconfigure its spatial and economic landscape, to create a 'good business climate' that would bolster and sustain America's international status. 13  exploitation are connected to the same market reform processes and its backdrop of political authoritarianism. In order for China to control its image, and thus ensure that it remains positive, the country needs an image that is powerful enough to deflect its underlying reality. This issue is of such fundamental importance to the future that Cooper-Ramo suggests that it will actually 'determine the future of Chinese development and reform.' 15 For Cooper-Ramo, the way in which the country will develop in the future will be intrinsically linked to internal and external consensus it can forge, and the way it is perceived internally and externally will be central to that.
As a conspicuous channel through which to gain global prestige and attention, the Beijing Olympics was seized upon as an opportunity to rebrand the country and the city. Through the Olympics, resources were invested into reconfiguring the host city materially, in a way that would boost symbolic capital, concepts of modernity, and ensure an image of global capitalist integration. Externally, this all contributes to the creation of a positive image that will facilitate the country's continued integration into the network of international capital investment. Internally, these developments were also used to forge an image of the country as one that was moving forward together, and through consensus. The 'positive image' of the Olympics themselves was important in this regard in that the positive values of the 'Olympic ideals' could also be interwoven into internal discourses about the benefits of modernisation. This was important to garner support for the specific developments associated with the Olympics, but was also important in creating a more positive climate for the social and economic changes required by China's neoliberalising agenda more generally; an agenda resulting in ever greater social and economic inequalities from which the Olympics could be seen as merely a distraction and a smokescreen. often used as a vehicle for a wider process of social engineering and regeneration already taking place in a host city. 22 In particular, he claims that hosting the Olympics fits in well with the objectives of a typical de-industrialising city and the political and economic restructuring these cities require in that process. As clearly indicated by these buildings, the Beijing case was no different and it was a perfect vehicle through which to continue restructuring the city, and the nation, along the lines of neoliberal consumption policies.

Capturing the disappearing hutong: Counter Narratives and the Documentary Impulse
Historically, much of the centre of Beijing was residential courtyard housing, set in densely populated hutong (alleyway) districts. Since the beginning of the reform period China's real estate industry has become, according to the Geneva based Centre for Housing Rights and Evictions, the fastest growing and most profitable sector of the nation's economy. 23  neoliberalising economies, such efforts to censor 'unofficial' views were strengthened by the official language used to promote regeneration as progressive and as benefitting society as a whole. 24  These slum-like conditions are generally cited as the justification for the current wave of demolitions of this type of hutong but, in reality, it is often little more than an excuse to legitimise new private redevelopments. This has contributed to the phenomenon known as of 'commodity housing'; the acquisition of state-owned housing stock by private developers that began after the 1991 Demolition Regulation, allowed local authorities to issue demolition permits without seeking the resident's consent. 31 In the case of Da Zha Lan, the hutong has received particular attention from city developers due to its proximity to Qianmen; a gentrified tourist location close to Tiananmen Square.

Writing on the City
The idea of local empowerment through the production of counter images and counter narratives comes into play ten minutes into the film when Zhang Jinli is handed the camera. Zhang's involvement in decisions around content of the final cut is not apparent. However, it is clear that Zhang uses the camera as a way of involving his community in the creation of a local counter narrative to the city's Olympic development by recording the testimonies of people being forced to leave their homes. Filming his home and the surrounding built environment is a part of that testimony and Zhang Jinli claims that it is a "memento"; a reminder for when the community is finally dispersed and the buildings are all gone. When this day comes he says, he can watch the film and remember.
It is also clear that Zhang wishes the film to bear witness to his long-term struggle to save his home from demolition. Refusing to leave without sufficient compensation, Zhang's home is colloquially termed a "nail-in" house; the name given to a property left standing in a demolished area when a resident refuses to leave. Zhang's protest is at the crux of the narrative and he turns his struggle for language, performance and representation, into the raison d'etre of the film. This is evident in his fetishisation of the protest banners he hangs from the exterior of his home, and in his appropriation of official modes of performative political language and communication.
Historically, banners have been used in public spaces in China to carry promotional socialist slogans and guidelines. In recent years they have also been used to generate public support and co-operation for changes to the urban environment, particularly large scale demolition programmes such as that threatening Zhang's home. The following three government banners hung in Meishi Street were captured ARCHITECTURE_MEDIA_POLITICS_SOCIETY Vol. 2, no.1. January 2013 in the film: Relocating people in strict accordance with the law, promoting preservation of neighbourhood features.
In unison, the people support and participate actively in city government projects.
Strengthening city management, building a pleasant home together.
In response to these messages, and the authorities' use of public space to communicate their 'Harmonious Society' propaganda, Zhang offers his own protest banners which carry their own public discourse, and which are displayed upon the very property that he is being evicted from: To build a Harmonious Society, the government and common people must use law and reason. were harmonious with each other and also with those of the state.' 33 It is an appeal and a performance that throws the Harmonious Society discourse into relief by calling upon, and reworking history, in ways that do not align with current State intentions.
As the built environment was being twisted out of all recognition, Zhang's appeal to the past also suggested both anxiety and nostalgia and, in this sense, reminds us of Braester. In particular, they recall Braester's argument that human history and memory are so deeply ingrained in the built environment that, "in the absence of familiar landmarks, they become unanchored." 34 As Beijing was being reconfigured by 'transnational architectural production,''the local past' (as opposed to 'the national past') was being marginalised and could only survive if it could be tied to the accommodation of touristic expectations. For Zhang then, it was not just a building or a street that was being demolished and replaced by an external commodity imposition, it was human history and personal memory.
Zhang's attempts to stave off this erasure were emotively captured in his film's final scene. Bearing witness to the act of demolition of Zhang's home, this scene is characterised by erratic camera movements as he holds his camera high above his head in an attempt to scan the scene of the demolition. Despite the apparently thorough imposition of this new image of Beijing through its architecture, and the concentration of the world's media on that architecture, Zhang's images of resistance continue to stubbornly preserve the old buildings that used to stand in Meishi Street. Indeed, his film represents one of the few memories left of the city's previous life and they thus offer us one of the few genuine remnants of an old, pre-Disney Beijing that continues to change and grow along neoliberal lines of development. It is in the images of his film, and other films like it, that 'real' architectural history collides with Disney. In the future, this film, and others of its ilk, may be the only places where the 'real' old architecture of Beijing exists. To use de Certeau's terminology; these optical artefacts on film may be the closest we come to historic architectural reality.
What all of this reveals is a complex relationship between architecture, history and the media. On the one hand, modern Olympic Beijing can be interpreted as an architectural simulacrum; a physically constructed spectacle. However, it can also be read as a mediated spectacle; a backdrop for television images intended to promote Beijing, and China in general, to a world of capital investment opportunities. On the other hand, it reveals the continued presence of an uncomfortable architectural and social reality in China, that continues to exist despite the huge material investments in infrastructure and urban developments witnessed in the last decade and more. Further to this, it reveals an alternative role for the media in the preservation of this historic reality.
Rather than being a mere vehicle for the presentation of the modern architectural spectacle to an uncritical world audience then, film becomes the conduit for the presentation of a hidden and seemingly shameful truth; the continued existence of poverty and a set of values that questions the neoliberal agenda of the current government. Seen in this light, the relationship between film and architecture, and by extension, society and politics, becomes a double sided game that is as complex and contradictory as China's own development; part capitalist free market liberalism, and part neo-authoritarian socialism. In both cases, architecture becomes intrinsically interwoven into a media dialogue and, indeed, becomes a form of media in itself. In the first instance, it is an object of visual entertainment that exists for the production of spectacular images, whilst in the second, architecture becomes an object of disappearance that only remains tangible through the filmic image. Architecture is not just recorded on film, it only exists on film.