KU.BE, chalk on the floor and pragmatism as public space design

For a public space to be pleasant for everyone, it must also accommodate what is not always pleasant.

The happy state understood that tolerance is a practice of planning and architecture, not a moral principle.

Last weekend, we stood in line at the community center KU.BE in Frederiksberg, Copenhagen. The weather was gray, and we were not the only ones who thought to come here on a Sunday with the kids. The line was particularly long, and entry was managed by a "one out, one in" system.

Around us, impatient children were running around, hanging on strollers and drawing with chalk on the floor, throwing it at each other, and we were relieved that Adam Ray was still holding onto the stroller.

"Do you see the Danish scene?" Nadav drew my attention.

What’s so "Danish" about this? One might think, the Danes didn’t invent chaos.

But Nadav was right. It was the pragmatism.

A guiding principle of design, architecture, education, and Danish policy.

Pragmatism is an approach that focuses on what actually works, not just on ideas, principles, or theories. Instead of asking "What is ideally right?" one asks "What is efficient, feasible, and promotes the goal?"

Rather than trying to enforce a perfect queue, insisting on strict discipline, or reprimanding parents for their children's impatience, the community center's policy is to channel the "disruption" into play. The chalk made the movement and chaos of the children legitimate in the public space: it created a framework that contains the children's energy and allows it to exist without disturbing the overall order.

This is not just an educational approach, but a social one, according to which behaviors perceived as "disruption" are an integral part of life. Instead of fighting them or trying to eliminate them, it is better to plan for their flow.

This can be clearly seen in several places in the city. Right next to the children's playground, one can find seating areas designed specifically for "non-normative behavior" – for drunks or drug addicts. The benches are arranged in a circular and semi-enclosed manner, with low fencing and vegetation separating them from the main street, and even a small structure to warm up in and take a break.

Instead of these individuals sitting on the steps of a store or on a lonely bench in the middle of the sidewalk blocking the passage, they sit in a "pocket" designated for them. This allows them privacy and company, and prevents them from becoming a physical or social obstacle to the rest of the city. The same concept underlies areas dedicated to graffiti and teenagers – right in a city that is an architectural masterpiece, you will find areas seemingly designated for defacement.

This pragmatic approach makes Danish society a planned society. It frees Denmark from the debate over how the world should look, from the endless struggle to educate others, and primarily from the illusion that we can all behave according to a single template.

Teenagers, children, drunks, people with mental health challenges, and young parents who haven't slept in two years remind me that most humans cannot "To Behave," and that a planned society must allocate space for them in the environment.

The word "space" should be taken here almost literally (and not in a Pardes Hanna interpretation). It refers to square meters, architecture, design, laws, and objects.

For the space to truly be pleasant for everyone, it must leave room for what is not always pleasant.