For a foreigner reading the Chinese city, it is easy to fall into the trap of preemptively decoding it according to Western tradition. In reading the palimpsest of a Western city, the layers are static and linear; we wipe away at the layers of a place and are able to impassively read what came before. A Roman Coloniae precedes an invasion precedes a medieval burg precedes an industrial city etc etc until we reach the contemporary city. In the Western city, these layers exist independent from one another--physically, politically and culturally. The Roman gods do not make an appearance in the city hall, and a new housing development may be built on top of the remains of a bombed factory.
In Beijing, though, this palimpsest is more like some Einsteinian construct in which the city is both made up of multiple layers simultaneously and is in the process of becoming each singular layer. The physical manifestations of this construct are not self evident. The main Beijing destinations are evident as either the-historic-as-sacred-object or the-contemporary-plotted-on-tabula-rasa. Only in the hutongs are the physical manifestation of this bizarre 5th dimension legible.
Walking through the hutongs in Beijing, it is cool and shady. Some of the siheyuan, the traditional courtyard houses, have been turned into restaurants, hotels or shops. Glimpses through the rare open gate of a residential siheyuan reveal in one instance a luxurious courtyard with a well-sculpted garden. Beyond, a building displays exquisite wood detailing and bright, colorful paint. In another glimpse, the visitor sees a cramped dirt patch surrounded by haphazardly built shacks. Pots of boiling water belch steam into the confined space; babies and animals mill around—the messy life of multigenerational living.
Herein lies one of the most powerful set of incongruous ideas: feudal Confucianism, communism, and a capitalism-light version of American individualism. Many in the architecture discipline like to elevate what we do to an art form. However, architecture has always been a highly politically charged product, and in the last 70 years, housing has carried the brunt of the politics.
During China's dynastic period, the residential areas were laid out according to the ridgid Confucian principles. The social classes were strictly divided: To the east and west of the palace lived aristocrats and relatives of the emperor in large, sumptuous siheyuan. To the north and south artisans and laborers lived in smaller, simpler siheyuan in more densely packed hutongs. Walking through the hutongs today, we can see the grand south-facing entrance gates to these more auspicious siheyuan. Carved seals above the gate indicate the rank of the family living there while large stone medallions flanking the gate indicate government or military function. Carved stone or metal lions often guard the gates of the former emperor's relatives. This very standardized approach to displaying status and wealth is very much in keeping with Confucian ideology in which everyone knows his place in society and everyone adheres to a dictated set of social rules on how to treat those above and below you on the social ladder. It is clear that many of these gates are relics from the past, preserved as objects while other functions exist behind them. However, walking through the Hutongs, we can see gates of new or renovated siheyuan that display these symbols and markings but exist for members of the current Party in China. Yet, Confucian teachings of class stratification are inherently the opposite of communist principles of classless social order, which China is supposed to be currently propagating. What's up with that?
During communism, many of the old hutongs were demolished. Because of the serial wars in the first half of the 20th century, the condition of the hutongs deteriorated. Siheyuan previously inhabited by only one family were subdivided for multiple households with shoddy additions tacked on ad hoc. The living conditions in these hutongs were terrible: no water, sanitation or electricity. When the communist party took control in the 50s, the government razed many hutong neighborhoods to make way for boulevards. They also built high-rise apartment buildings according to socialist ideologies. These buildings had modern amenities not available in the hutongs enticing many residents to abandon their ancestral homes.
In the 80s, China's renewed open door policy allowed for a flow of Western capital, but more importantly Western ideas, into the country. American individualism now had to vie for a spot in the hutongs along side communism and Confucianism. So how did this western ideology manifest in the hutongs? While the default answer might point to some of the shops and hotels popping up in the siheyuan, a better example might be the slow gentrification of the hutongs. Young Chinese trendsetters, in an effort to assert some independence and individualism have begun taking over hutongs and renovating them. There is tension however between these new siheyuan owners, who are more likely to be single and wealthy and the original residents who are generally poorer and live in multigenerational households. This new class of owner erodes the rich social network that has existed in the hutongs for centuries. With respect to the built environment, however, their efforts are a stop-gap against a Chinese political and cultural machine that is hell-bent on becoming just like the west. Many of these restorations take a historic preservationist approach where new owners reuse old bricks, doors, columns and beams.
Beijing as the capital city holds multiple incongruous ideas within its organization. While we in the West tend to view ideologies as a zero sum game, the Chinese cherry pick and create a mash-up of approaches. This ability is one of the reasons China still befuddles attempts to categorize and comprehend it, not only politically but physically as well.
