Between 1868 and 1950, when meat production facilities were expelled from the city of Buenos Aires, Argentina became one of the largest producers of meat in the world. Beginning in 1945, bringing the city into the countryside and the countryside into the city, agriculture was instrumentalized as an urban function. Revealing the convergence of two usually separated movements – hygenics and eugenics – the meat industry in the province of Buenos Aires created a scientifically supported arena for the biopolitical appropriation of human and non-human resources, bearing out a unified ideology of medicalization, aestheticization, urbanization and productivity.

Verdurization (lühua), a term coined in Japan and adopted into the Chinese vocabulary in the early twentieth century, was an emotive concept and relentless practice in Mao's China. The Chinese state used various verdurization campaigns as part of its project of building a socialist state and as a way of exercising ideological control, particularly in cities. At the same time, ordinary citizens had their own ideas about the role of vegetation in their daily lives – ideas that were often different from, and sometimes counter to, those of the state. The article takes Shanghai as a case-study to examine the politics of urban greening along the spectrum of state, society and everyday life in the early years of the People's Republic.

This article examines carnivals held in Greater London during the Boer War, as a prism through which to analyse the contemporary construction and enactment of locality in the metropolis. It argues that ideas of locality, class and citizenship were reshaped through advances in transport and communication, more active government and urban and then suburban growth. This was manifest in the carnivals, whereby a national and imperial cause stimulated local initiative and citywide replication, encouraged expressions of local identity but also instigated and exacerbated local rivalries, and illustrated the extent to which class identities were nested in local ones.

By considering the material processes by which the Horseshoe housing estate in Berlin came into being as aesthetic vision, constructed environment and inhabited living space, this article focuses on the complex manner by which the ideas of planners and architects ‘migrate’ into actual built forms. I evaluate the roles played by emergent technologies and new building methods as well as the managerial directives of state and civic bureaucracies, assessing how co-operative and competing aesthetic visions and the life practices of inhabitants are involved in the coproduction of Weimar public housing.

Privately owned, for-profit, seasonal, walled-off venues that boasted a variety of flora and fauna in addition to other services like stages, buildings, thespians, musicians, exhibits and victuals, New York City's Vauxhall and Ranelagh commercial pleasure gardens blossomed by the mid-eighteenth century. An in-depth analysis of these pleasure gardens not only contributes to how we understand colonists’ endeavours to support a more complete leisure sector, but also reveals the nuanced nature of the ‘rural vs. urban’ or ‘wilderness vs. civilization’ dyads. Ultimately, urban colonists hoped to embrace the rural nature of their surroundings to make their ‘cities in the wilderness’ more accessible, healthy places.

Analysing the urban renewal of Boston's West End during the 1950s, we examine how psychiatrists, social scientists and urban planners understood the relationship between the urban environment and mental health. For psychiatrist Erich Lindemann, the West End offered a unique opportunity to study how acute stress and loss affected populations, thus contributing to social psychiatry, which sought to prevent mental illness by addressing factors in the social and physical environment. While Lindemann's project provided a sophisticated response to the often simplistic arguments about the cities and mental health, it also highlighted the challenges of applying social psychiatric theory in practice.

The Italo-French armistice of July 1940 brought an end to the brief period of conflict between Italy and France that had taken place after Mussolini's declaration of war in June of the same year. Disappointing Italian military performances left Italy with only a small strip of territory on the Italo-French border to occupy until the expansion of the occupation zone in November 1942. This article will explore urban planning projects in the largest of the Italian-occupied towns, Menton. It will argue that Italian urban planning projects formed a crucial layer of the long-term Italianization of the town and were indicative of wider Italian plans in the event of an Axis victory. It will demonstrate that hitherto underexplored post-war plans reveal not only how Italian planners hoped to reshape the region, but also how planners hoped that these changes would bind territories physically to Italy.

In the 2000s, Berlin saw the formation of so-called Baugruppen (construction groups) – associations of small-scale investors who pooled their modest capital to commission an architect and construct a multistorey building in which they would own and occupy a flat. They were mostly middle-class families united by a belief in community values and neighbourly contact as well as the qualities of urban living. This article will present the construction groups as an example of bottom-up architecture in an industrialized western country, in which individual initiatives and user-centred design had to be negotiated within a highly professionalized environment, as well as with contradictory political positions. It will show that construction groups brought together various threads of Berlin's recent urban history: the gradual integration of radical post-1968 lifestyles into mainstream society, the ‘return to the inner city’ connected with the increasing popularity of ‘new tenements’, and the evolution of innovative, post-functionalist architecture.

This article explores the creation of the system for the conservation of architectural heritage in Northern Ireland, evidencing the struggle for convergence within the UK before 1972. The agency of networked individuals, close state–civil society interrelationships and the innovative actions of conservationist groups in response to legislative and practice inadequacies in the 1960s are discussed. In particular, a series of ‘pre-statutory lists’ are introduced, highlighting the burgeoning interest in industrial archaeology and Victorian architecture in Belfast and the prompt provided to their creation by redevelopment. The efforts of conservationists were eventually successful after the collapse of Devolution in the early 1970s.

South Cardiff was once dependent on the export of coal and the production of steel, but these activities had faded by the 1970s, creating economic stagnation and physical dereliction. However, the area was rechristened ‘Cardiff Bay’ in the mid-1980s and was the focus of an ambitious and contested state-funded regeneration. This article argues that regeneration was broadly successful, although not without failures, and that government remained willing to intervene heavily in some small areas. The main contribution is to identify and analyse how local authorities retained influence over regeneration, in contrast to approaches taken elsewhere by central government.

From 1884 until the Franco-British Exhibition in 1908, international and national exhibitions had a fad for including reconstructed historic urban streets in their attractions. This article investigates the meaning of such forms of urban heritage in the light of modernizing cities. It shows that ideas about historical authenticity were complex, and traces this to the ways in which staff and employees, and also the big crowds at the displays, co-produced this meaning. It suggests that visitors particularly constructed meaning through haptic and emotional encounters with the past, providing evidence of the development of new memory practices for modernity.

This article is a study of Zhongshan in South China, which took on the responsibility for modernizing its public health system after it was promulgated as a model county by the Nationalist government in Nanjing in 1929. However, the county was not ready to become a model. Insufficient budget, lack of experience, medical skills and directions limited the scope of the enterprise and its chances to succeed in a number of projects. Zhongshan's urban residents, on the other hand, were going through a transition from traditional to new public health practices. There were widely divergent views on the subject. For instance, some did not only accept the authorities interfering in and controlling their personal and environmental hygiene, but regarded this role as their right. Yet, many others did not see the need for changes. Ultimately, Zhongshan was caught between pressure exerted by Nanjing and the social tensions created by reform programmes that the authorities failed to implement properly.

Some scholars have argued that the process of gentrification can bring about development, attract businesses and even lower the crime rate in an area. However, no scholars have considered developments in a colonial situation where government policies sometimes produced unintended results, which have subsequently become a permanent feature of those socio-political situations. The experience of colonial Lagos shows that the colonial government policies of town planning and segregation forced the working-class residents of Lagos to the suburbs. As a result, both the population and housing rent of the area were increased with implications for the demography and physical development of metropolitan Lagos.

This article examines the development of Hammarby Lake City in southern Stockholm on a former industrial, waterfront site during the 1990s. The setting may resemble recent global redevelopments of urban waterfronts and docks; however, in it Stockholm needs to be viewed against longer cultural, aesthetic and historical influences. This includes early twentieth-century precedents rooted in civic and residential engagement with the modern and industrial shoreline. In addition, an informal human interaction with the abandoned southern Hammarby harbour evolved during the 1950s through reoccupation by an itinerant community of workers. Such forerunners have often been overlooked in accounts of a late twentieth-century dramatic transformation of industrial waterfronts. The article concludes that there is scope to align the theme of waterfront development more closely to the longer history of the twentieth-century city. This perspective provides a useful counterpoint to the leading view of such spaces as an expression of late capitalism.

Writing in Urban History in the spring of 1991, Peter Borsay considered how the gap between the ‘popular presentations of the urban past’ produced by the growing heritage industry and ‘the booming academic study of urban history’ might be bridged. Heritage, he argued, was ‘deeply bound up with the meanings and functions of towns’ and urban historians should play a crucial role within communities ‘engaged in a complex discourse with the past . . . that for many was fundamental to their livelihood and identity’. Borsay's concerns 27 years later continue to be mirrored in academic discussions surrounding heritage and materiality, echoing wider questions that surround the relevance of urban history beyond the academy. Recent conferences have also demonstrated the continued salience of Borsay's argument, considering the potential of the study of cities to shape approaches to their management through work with local communities, heritage partners, cultural institutions and professional groups. This emphasis on knowledge exchange and partnership has also attracted the support of funding bodies through collaborative doctoral awards that have sought to ‘increase opportunities for all researchers to develop their work in collaboration with public, private and third sector partners that increase the flow, value and impact of world-class arts and humanities research from academia to the UK's wider creative economy and beyond’. This has included the author's own work on the heritage of Middlesbrough's iron and steel industries, which has involved working collaboratively with local archives and heritage partners.

Historians are held hostage by the sources that are available to them, and for that reason, the historiography of medieval towns is dominated by research on thirteenth-, fourteenth- or fifteenth-century case-studies. In preceding centuries, literacy was largely the monopoly of ecclesiastical milieus, who were often hostile or simply not interested in describing the urban settlements which then emerged all over Europe. An interesting exception, however, is the Breton town of Redon, which took shape around an abbey that was established in 832 with support of the Carolingian Emperor Louis the Pious. By navigating the unusually extensive set of Carolingian cartularies of this abbey, as well as the available cartographic and archaeological evidence, Julien Bachelier has developed an incisive sketch of the development of a town in the shadow of the Carolingian abbey in the eleventh and twelfth centuries (‘Une ville abbatiale bretonne. Redon du IXe au XIVe siècle’, Histoire Urbaine, 48 (2017), 133–54). This case-study confirms once again that the urbanization of medieval Europe was more than a side-effect of the rebirth of long-distance trade as the canonical Pirenne thesis would have it. The Redon case provides a valuable contribution to the revisionist perspective that stresses the importance of local demand from abbeys, episcopal palaces and castles as a stimulus for urban development (see esp. the seminal work of A. Verhulst, The Rise of Cities in North-West Europe (Cambridge, 1999)).