by Christophe van Gerrewey, Arjen Oosterman, Christophe Catsaros and Rem Koolhaas
First published in French in October 2020 in L’Architecture d’Aujourd’hui‘s Archizoom Papers, the following is a conversation between Rem Koolhaas, Christophe van Gerrewey, Arjen Oosterman and Christophe Catsaros discussing themes addressed in Koolhaas’ flagship exhibition Countryside, The Future, at the Museum of Modern Art in New York. For Koolhaas, this was not just another exhibition, but a personal conversion: the culmination of a decade-long research project that attempts to rethink the divide between urbanity and rurality.
Christophe Catsaros: The project entitled Countryside, initiated ten years ago, is not exactly the same as the exhibition on display at the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum in New York. What’s the difference between the two projects, and would it be reasonable to imagine that the pandemic could again change your view of the countryside?
Rem Koolhaas: What I was talking about ten years ago is a kind of personal conversion. More precisely, a strong feeling that our focus on the urban condition no longer made sense, and that certain things that were happening in the countryside deserved more attention. It was the beginning of a tipping point. It was very personal, unlike the current exhibition, which is much more collaborative. Countryside, The Future is the result of the work of 15 “rapporteurs” who were asked to explore and describe very specific conditions, from all over the world, and to do so with their own vocabulary, their own language and their own arguments. It is therefore a synthesis, an orchestration, much more than a personal statement.
Another difference between the first phase and the current one is to do with the way in which, over the last ten years, the articulation of the city and neoliberalism seems to have created a mechanism to generate and accentuate inequalities. This malaise is reinforced by the growing influence of tech companies that shape the urban condition and set most of its parameters, such as the integration of technological elements into architecture, resulting in the smart city model as the apotheosis of urban culture.
Christophe van Gerrewey: When did the Guggenheim become important in the project? At what point did you realize that you were doing an exhibition for this institution and this building? Does the fact that Countryside, The Future is set in an art museum have any impact?
RK: Four years ago, the Guggenheim asked me to do this exhibition. From that moment on, what had initially been a “research project” became an exhibition project. This is not the first time we’ve organised an exhibition in the context of an art institution. Unlike what we did with Content in 2004 at the Neue Nationalgalerie in Berlin, we chose New York to use the possibilities offered by the architecture of the place. The Guggenheim is a complex exhibition space. Its specificity is based on a binding interaction with a single wall deployed in a spiral.
There is this misconception that architects working in Frank Lloyd Wright’s building are obliged to engage in some kind of dialogue with the masterpiece. Jean Nouvel painted it black, and Zaha Hadid also did something quite ambitious. In all these cases, the architect seems obliged to react to the architecture of the place by radically transforming it. We decided not to go down that route, and instead simply to use the ramp as a practical tool. We interpreted the spiral as a clever device to link independent episodes together.
CC: What are the chances of seeing this exhibition in Europe, given the pandemic and the drop in funding for major exhibitions?
RK: Arc en Rêve in Bordeaux is committed to taking over the exhibition. If we do it in Bordeaux, it would be interesting to do something about Bordeaux as well. The role of expatriates in promoting local and organic viticulture is one track. The relationship between winemaking, landscape and artificiality is another. Coming to Bordeaux could also be an opportunity to collaborate with Sébastien Marot, whose exhibition Taking the Country’s Side: Agriculture and Architecture is in some ways linked to ours. Sébastien participated in the teaching project of the Harvard studio in Rotterdam. We always thought that the two projects could eventually merge. There is interest in the project in Africa, Russia and China. The material we’ve gathered is so copious that we can always make different selections, focus on different issues, develop other collaborations and ideas.
Arjen Oosterman: Which of the two titles relates to the itinerant aspect of the project? Is it the “future” or the “report”?
RK: Both. One of my concerns over the past 25 years has been to get rid of Eurocentrism in architecture, by introducing other topics, such as the metropolis of Lagos, or by shining a light on other thought patterns, such as those of metabolists in the book Project Japan: Metabolism Talks. How can you be a convinced European, a fanatic almost, while trying not to be Eurocentric? In this sense, the reportage aspect of the project and the exhibition format, which is more demonstrative, are complementary.
AO: It seems to have to do with the fact that, from a political point of view, contemporary culture is turning inward. This project seeks to reverse this situation.
RK: Take the issue of masks and the controversy surrounding their use in different parts of Europe. Ten years ago, Japanese people were mocked for wearing masks. Even at the beginning of the pandemic, some claimed that masks were useless. Then French doctors began to analyse the effect of their use on transmission and finally concluded that the widespread use of masks greatly reduced the spread of infection. This would explain, among other things, the effectiveness of Asian metropolises in their fight against the pandemic. Above all, it shows that Europe no longer has confidence in itself, that it no longer believes in itself, while remaining attached to this idea. It’s as if we’re trying to deny our growing inferiority by denigrating the rest of the world.
CC: You sometimes seem to defend positions contrary to commonly accepted opinion. Today, China is increasingly perceived as a technological dictatorship, but you insist on showing that there are many bottom-up processes, rooted in local public life.
RK: There is life in China, and there is creativity in China. The supposed end of history conceals a paradox: we were triumphant and yet at the same time surrounded by evidence that we were entering a period of decline and loss of credibility. During the Cold War, the “enemy” was studied, scrutinised, but since 1991, we have deliberately turned our backs on this type of intelligence. We rely on opinion, not knowledge. Just look at how few Russian or Chinese intellectuals are invited to express themselves in the Western world, or the scarcity of European students in China. They are only a fraction of what they should be.
CvG: Can a sincere interest in non-European regions benefit Europe? Is this a form of opportunity or is it really about learning from China?
RK: I really mean it. It’s about learning how to collaborate. There are many interesting initiatives taking place in Africa as well. There are things happening in parts of the Middle East and in Russia, and it would be a mistake not to take them into consideration. This is the underlying purpose of the whole exhibition: to collaborate, to find reasons to interact with each other.
CvG: Is Stalin’s presence in the exhibition an invitation to reconsider the role of certain historical figures in relation to the countryside?
RK: I wanted to show that the twentieth century was characterised by large-scale territorial interventions, some launched by dictatorial regimes, others by democracies. For example, the beginnings of the European Union’s common agricultural policy coincided with Mao Zedong’s Great Leap Forward. The agricultural transformations of the late 1950s in Europe and China were quite similar: the same increase in scale, the same mechanisation. Roosevelt, Stalin after the war, Mansholt for the EU, Saddam Hussein: most of these leaders, whether dictators or democratically elected, were convinced that the development of the countryside was crucial for the future of their country. The “negligence” I refer to refers to the almost total absence of such ambition, which prevailed a few decades ago.
CC: This retrospective look at the major agrarian reforms by dictators concerns a scale of intervention in spatial planning that is no longer regional or even national, but rather continental. Is this an incentive to reconsider the principle of large-scale action, particularly in the context of global warming? Should our own leaders take inspiration from twentieth century dictators to make a difference?
RK: This is the subject of this whole argument: today, an equivalent effort is needed. The exhibition presents two maps summarizing what needs to be done to combat global warming. This is a huge effort that combines smart transformation and smart preservation. I think that’s ultimately the message of the exhibition.
CvG: There is this famous quote from Le Corbusier about Colbert in La Ville Radieuse of 1933: “Today we can only dream of one man, and it is Colbert. Act, undertake, realize! Would you say that we need some kind of ecological Colbert on a global level?
RK: I wouldn’t say that rhetorically. I just wanted to show that there are processes going on and that a lot of people are already working on these issues. The purpose of this demonstration of knowledge and planning is to begin to take seriously a whole range of reflections that are not sufficiently recognized and taken into account. This ignorance is certainly related to our lifestyles in the comfort of our urban bubbles. It’s not so much a question of being against the city, but of recognizing that cities generate a certain blindness by their physical manifestation. They give rise to a culture that is very satisfied with itself and an intellectual framework that ignores everything that surrounds it.
AO: The countryside is obviously defined by the city. Without the city, we wouldn’t be talking about the countryside.
RK: The dialectical distinction between town and country was still valid in the last century, but it has been overcome. Another very decisive fact is the prediction that by 2030, 80% of humanity will live in urban areas on 2% of the territory, depending on the remaining 20% in the countryside to ensure its food. This is obviously nonsense. This is an unthinkable situation, because it is globally unstable. The exhibition is also a stand against this perspective.
AO: The depopulation of the countryside seems to be a constant, both at the political level and in terms of planning. Concentration remains the business of the city. The pandemic seems to be reversing this dynamic by once again making the countryside a desirable option. People are reconsidering their urban condition.
RK: You have to be very careful. I do not align myself with this kind of simplistic reversal. What is more interesting to think about is how in China or Africa, the urban condition is not exclusive. Being a city dweller does not necessarily mean cutting ties with the countryside. City dwellers remain very involved in their rural communities of origin. In Nairobi, for example, successful professionals also invest in their home villages. They buy land, and prepare for retirement there. Similar models where the link is never really broken also exist in China. What we are looking for are ways to do both, ways to be less radical in disconnecting the urban and non-urban condition.
CC: Is the inferiority of the countryside a cultural construction, and is the exhibition an invitation to sublimate rurality? Is it necessary to work on the imagination of the countryside, as the city has been able to develop its own, since the second half of the eighteenth century, by literary and cinematographic means?
RK: Yes, definitely. There is in the exhibition a very beautiful Soviet fiction film about a harvest. It depicts an almost orgasmic pleasure of living together on Earth and contributing to something greater than oneself. It is time to define an “identity” and a contemporary aesthetic for the countryside. In the exhibition, this quest is found in satellite images of farms, or in the pixel agriculture, a research project for algorithmic permaculture. This need for a new perspective consolidated the choice to present Countryside in an art museum. At the Guggenheim, these contemporary representations have a different impact than they might have exhibited in an architectural context.
CvG: Doesn’t the search for an aesthetic or a culture of the countryside risk being forever a prisoner of the metropolitan perspective?
RK: The risk is there. The metropolis exerts a certain form of gravitational pull from which it is very difficult to escape. But it’s not a question of inventing an entirely new conception: the crucial challenge for me is to restore connections, to restore a dialectic between town and country. And in this effort, all means are allowed. This aesthetic of the countryside already exists – think of the writings of Robert Walser, or Goethe’s Die Wahlverwandtschaften.
CvG: It might also be useful to find an epithet. Forty years ago, you used adjectives like “delirious” and “sparkling” in connection with the metropolis.
RK: The choice of words was due to a certain youthful confidence, and I don’t necessarily want to repeat the formulas of the past, but I think that given the title of my contribution to the catalogue, an appropriate adjective could be “ignored”.
CC: The exhibition ends with Pixel farming, a research project developed at Wageningen University, the Netherlands’ leading agricultural institute, that tries to find ways to combine the principles of permaculture and algorithmic engineering.
Contrary to the views of radical ecology, this quest for intensive and sustainable agriculture is motivated by the conviction that the solution can never come from degrowth. Reducing the world’s population is not an option. On the contrary, it is considered possible to develop agriculture that is both sustainable and intensive.
RK: Downsizing and completely reversing the course of progress implies abandoning a kind of Promethean ambition. Without this ambition, what’s available to us is the prospect of entropy.
CvG: Is there still, finally, a difference between the smart city and the smart countryside?
RK: I wouldn’t use the word smart to describe the countryside. The exhibition ends with an image of a nuclear fusion plant under construction. This is a process that was totally out of reach ten years ago, and for which there have been serious breakthroughs in the last decade. Fusion technology is one of the main reasons not to abandon our Promethean faith in the technological option. On the other hand, this option is worth nothing by itself, without the component of a new permaculture to invent. Technology and this new ecology are supposed to work together.
AO: You discussed these issues with Louise Fresco, president of Wageningen University in the Netherlands. What is his view on global food production in relation to the notion of permaculture?
RK: Louise Fresco is a scientist. Those who believe in science, and most scientists do believe in it, have no doubt that the planet can produce enough food for humanity. It’s a question of means and localities to be defined. Wageningen University has been interested in agriculture for 200 years. It’s very committed to the search for alternatives for animal proteins in our diet, for example. From his point of view, there is no real reason to worry.
CvG: Shouldn’t we be concerned about how the current pandemic crisis accentuates some rather harmful inclinations for the evolution of the world?
RK: We could be, but from another point of view: this pandemic has shown how easy it is to completely change the world. Would you ever have imagined one day the outright cessation of air transport? During these three months, we were much more flexible and responsive than we ever imagined we could be. Look at how consensus was reached or how resources were freed up to achieve certain care and safety goals. If even a third of what we spent dealing with the pandemic was used to fight global warming, it would no longer be a question. The pandemic has redefined what is possible.
CC: How will this change the way we work? Will the large scale rollout of remote working turn business districts and office buildings into derelict areas? Will office blocks be the next brownfield sites?
RK: After two months of working from home, we have definitely rediscovered the importance of being able to get together to work. We need to come together to confront ideas and work through problems. This is almost impossible in an exclusively virtual environment, and I’m sure it will remain a necessity. Offices will be more focused on interaction than individual work, but this was already the case before the pandemic.
CvG: Imagine if this lockdown had happened in the 1990s… The internet has allowed us to get through this crisis with fewer consequences. The impact would have been greater if it had happened two or three decades ago.
RK: Did the pandemic come at the right time? We had a project in Moscow, and we were able to deal with some issues in great detail through remote meetings… This ability is quite interesting. We’ll probably continue to do both: telework and get together. We’ll also continue to travel.
CC: The crisis could also change our perception of the metropolitan condition. The city has always been closely linked to the hypothesis of its own destruction. Do you see a trend emerging from what we’ve just gone through?
RK: It’s too early to tell, but I’m convinced that much of the architectural knowledge currently in use is about to become obsolete. I also think that it is less a question of distinguishing between creation and destruction than of redefining what we cannot do without; What is really “necessary”? Similarly, the intelligence necessary for the practice of architecture is constantly evolving. One of the themes we presented during the Venice Biennale in 2014 was that of reducing the architectural field of action: the scope for intervention in architecture has been considerably reduced. Even if your field of action is limited, you can still act on it provided you have identified it.
CvG: Do you plan to build in the countryside?
RK: I am sure that the term “countryside” includes very diverse architectural programs, ranging from involvement in environmental rehabilitation to agriculture, rural technologies and the issue of post-human architecture. I’m trying to find opportunities, but without any real success so far. It is difficult to show a new interest while acknowledging lack of experience. What is certain is that I’m looking to get more involved in agriculture. I would also consider getting involved with Wageningen University.
CvG: Do you need to place an order? The City of the Captive Globe was not one of them.
RK: At the time, drawing had a kind of impact, but that has completely changed. Now I’m trying to do the same thing through this exhibition. Claiming an interest in a particular area in the hope of developing it.
Secessio 