Drawing on a Foucauldian notion of governmentality, this paper explores how power is exercised in, by, and through everyday urban spaces. Scholars have observed the rise of spatial governmentality, along with the boom of consumerism, that works throug ...
Drawing on a Foucauldian notion of governmentality, this paper explores how power is exercised in, by, and through everyday urban spaces. Scholars have observed the rise of spatial governmentality, along with the boom of consumerism, that works through producing spaces that exclude undesirable populations and behaviours, aiming at controlling the disadvantaged rather than the privileged (Merry, 2001; Perry, 2000). Quasi-public space, or “privately owned public space (Kayden, 2000),” such as shopping malls that are seemingly open to the public but in fact deliberately controlling the access by deploying diverse surveillance technologies has been scrutinised in this respect. Building up on this, I would like to raise the need to extend the analytical scope beyond such spectacular urban landscapes. This is because, unlike typical examples of governmentality studies i. e., schools, hospitals, prisons, shopping malls, etc., a contemporary form of spatial governmentality seems to work without such studiously organised physical arrangements but in tandem with digital media, continuously (re)producing disciplinary, gendered urban spaces in the realm of everyday. My intention is neither to downplay the significance of materiality of urban spaces nor to overstate the role of digital media but to examine both aspects through the lived experiences of urban dwellers, particularly child-rearing females, who have been denied the right to use banal spaces of the city.
To substantiate this argument, this study addresses an emerging urban landscape of ‘No-Kids Zone’ in South Korea (hereafter, Korea), which literally refers to spaces that deny access of children under certain ages. Such policy has increasingly been adopted among relatively small hospitality businesses such as cafes and restaurants. Allegedly, the reason behind this is an accusation of children frustrating other customers’ experiences, often backed up by such episodes that depict children and their caregivers as inconsiderate and outrageous. While the caregivers are unexceptionally identified as females, relevant stories are overflowing on the internet and social media within which a contemptuous term ‘Mum-choong (literally means mum bug)’ is coined and disseminated, having become one of the most dominant, rarely challenged discourses of online misogyny.
Based on qualitative research methods including in-depth and on-spot interviews and site visits, this research demonstrates, first, that the presence of ‘No-Kids Zone,’ along with the ‘Mum-choong’ discourse, signifies a novel, depoliticised mode of power that governs women’s comportments and mobility by producing urban spaces that exclude not just undesirable individuals and/or behaviours but a group of populations according to their age. While the policy targets children, however, it affects in practice the mothers who are assumed to take the sole responsibility of child-rearing in Korea’s patriarchal system as indicated by the ‘Mum-choong’ discourse. Coupled with the proliferation of neoliberal subjects, fundamental issues such as sexism and misogyny embedded in the rise of ‘No-Kids Zone’ are replaced with the freedom of choice such as shopkeepers’ business decision and consumer rights.
Second, this spatial governmentality works way beyond its physical boundaries of ‘No-Kids Zone.’ This is because the power in question operates largely through misogynistic online discourses, rather than deploying specific spatial arrangements or technologies. While such online sexual abuse makes women to self-censor their behaviours (see, Ging and Siapera, 2018), it is only a small sign, if not nothing, that makes a place ‘No-Kids Zone.’ Indeed, such signs are hardly recognisable in many cases, which often leads mothers who take along their kids to be refused at the door. These experiences of being refused, coupled with the performativity of ‘Mum-choong’ discourse, significantly deteriorate the ways in which women perceive and use not only certain places known as ‘No-Kids Zone’ but also urban spaces in general.
By illustrating the women’s lived experiences in relation to spatial exclusion and online misogyny that have increasingly constituted the contemporary urban landscapes of Korea, this study contributes to the debate on spatial governmentality as well as socio-political and cultural production of urban space in various contexts. In this regard, what we should address, I contend, is diverse forms of power at play beyond planning and urban built environments, that is, the subtle, elusive ways through which ever-deepening social divisions are (re)produced and spatialised. This is a crucial task more than ever, particularly in the contemporary neoliberal society where the hatred and discrimination are increasingly trivialised, or even justified, under the erroneous guise of impartiality and/or the rights of the individual.