By 7am each weekday, a steady stream of commuters pours onto the streets from the mainline and London Underground stations servicing the City: Blackfriars, Bank, Cannon Street, Liverpool Street, London Bridge. By 8am, the road and pedestrian bridge spanning the River Thames from London Bridge station to Lower Thames Street throngs with sleek, suited men and women making their way to their gleaming, glossy offices in the City. Graham is one of them. He was 29 years old when I talked with him, and married with a young daughter, who was soon to start school. After living and studying overseas, Graham had returned to London with his young family and had taken a job working for a leading Asian bank. As a self-professed âpoet and bit of a left-wing hippyâ, he viewed himself as a misfit in the City. He was eager to set himself apart from his fellow bankers, whom he referred to as âcocks in suitsâ who âbarge people out of the wayâ as they march to work. He found the City âan ugly place to beâ but worked in banking because it paid a âdecent wageâ.
In the early morning, an hour or so earlier, the âcocksâ in their smart black, blue or grey designer suits are not yet so visible. But the City is already hard at work.
Just before 6am, one bright but chilly spring morning in May, I caught a train to London Bridge station from my home in South East London. The train was busy with construction workers, wearing heavy-duty boots and functional clothing, who disembarked at the station and headed off to the various noisy, dusty building sites in the City. I too got off the train, and under clear blue skies, crossed the River Thames and walked up Bishopsgate and along London Wall. On my way, I passed a couple of window cleaners, their waists draped with bright green and yellow abseiling straps, dragging a red hose that splashed water over the limestone as it snaked along the pavement. I passed a woman wearing a vibrant pink tabard apron who was hard at work cleaning brass on the door of an old stone building until it gleamed in the early morning sunshine. I passed a man with dreadlocks and a powerful jet wash cleaning an open-air piazza encircled by glistening glass office buildings. And I passed site foremen in white hard hats and fluorescent yellow safety jackets directing large lorries reversing giant building equipment through temporary gateways and huge hoarding to the construction sites that lay beyond. The smell of bacon, freshly baked croissants and freshly brewed coffee wafted through open café doors and mingled with the smells and sounds of the streets outside. People laughed, chatted, shouted and whistled; heavy machinery whirred and thumped; and barrels of beer clattered noisily down a wooden ramp into the cellar of a City wine bar.
In the early morning sunshine, the space of the City is diverse, colourful, noisy and cheerful. Every weekday, during these early morning hours, the space of the City is groomed and primed so the âcocks in suitsâ can walk the litter-free streets to work, sit in their clean, shiny offices, âtalk to people all over the worldâ7 and get paid many multiples of what the early-morning workers receive. It is in this local space of the City where the global space of finance is controlled.
Creating, maintaining and reproducing the formidable positioning of global finance in the City is a collective process, one that occurs through a nexus of institutions, actors, social relations, practices and ideas. But while the process is collective, it is not egalitarian and is interwoven with potent forces of inclusion and exclusion,8 of privilege and disadvantage, of opportunity and constraint â some more discernible than others.
By noon, the Cityâs streets are ruled by gangs of suited workers who stride along the pavements talking on their phones while clutching takeaway sandwich bags, coffees or bundles of dry-cleaning. They criss-cross in packs from one side of the street to the other in their shiny shoes and dull-coloured trousers. They are not the only people out on the streets â occasionally they are joined on the pavements by other pedestrians or a tourist with a backpack, or passed on the road by a cyclist. A few of the smartly dressed workers are women, but it is the gangs of striding men who visibly colonise the space. One gang wears blue suits, white shirts and blue ties; another gang wears black coats, black suits and black shoes. They have short hair and cleanly shaven faces. They are groomed and brushed, clean and polished. These shiny, glossy workers emerge from the shiny, glossy glass and chrome buildings through revolving doors that constantly spin. They walk, without a second glance, past the smart doormen who stand on duty outside. Collectively, these workers illustrate the wealth, authority and exclusive nature of the businesses they work for. Collectively, they exude an aura of confidence, busyness and collegiality. Collectively, their similarities mask their differences as well as their difference from the colourful yet now largely invisible workers of the early morning. Collectively, their humdrum presence masks the diversity of City space. Together, they create the public local and international face of the City: the âCity built on businessâ. They are the local face for a global space: the global face for a local space.
At 3pm, the gangs in suits are not so visible; most of their members have retreated back inside their glistening headquarters. On the corner of Fleet Street, close to the London Stock Exchange and St Paulâs Cathedral, the finance industry seems more discreet than elsewhere in the City. In the warm afternoon sunshine, I watched as tourists climbed up and down the wide stone steps of St Paulâs, and while buses, taxis, vans, cars, motorbikes and bicycles passed to and fro. While the gangs of workers may not âownâ the streets so visibly at this time of day, the space is still shaped primarily for and by the needs and everyday social practices of these highly paid workers who occupy the office spaces in this part of London. There are sandwich shops, a champagne bar, an opticianâs, and a dry-cleanerâs. There is a gentlemenâs outfitterâs, a barberâs shop, a shoe shop and a shoe repair shop. There is a gym, a building society and an outdoor clothing and equipment shop. These amenities are not primarily geared towards meeting the needs of the tourists visiting St Paulâs or, indeed, the needs of the colourful workers of the early morning. They are, however, important components of the social fabric that constitutes the dominant identity of the City space â components which, along with social institutions of the City (restaurants, bars, boutique hotels, private members clubs) as well as the low-paid workers who work in them, help knit the social and material local and international world of global finance together.9
The buildings of wealthy, prestigious banks still have a significant spatial presence in this part of the City, but this intermingles with an elite sense of identity â anonymity for the many, recognition for the few. As I stood across the road from one of the most wealthy and prestigious of all the City-based banks, I noted its lack of external signage (I myself walked passed it unwittingly on numerous occasions before I knew someone who worked there, despite its prominent location on one of Londonâs principal thoroughfares). The sense of exclusivity this anonymity conveys was further reinforced by the doorman standing on guard outside the entrance; he resembled the doormen of expensive London hotels in his smart black suit, white shirt and black tie.
As I stood observing, a black cab stopped outside the bank and two men wearing suits and one woman wearing a skirt suit got out. They grabbed their bags, slung their jackets over their shoulders and walked confidently, one after the other, through the large heavy front door of the bank. The powerful presence of the buildings of finance, with their âjuxtaposition of ancient and modernâ, extends to the power dressing of their well-paid workers: traditional suits in a fashionable cut; a mixture of old and new, stability and dynamism. These structural and material symbolic expressions of power, tradition and modernity work together to develop an image of up-to-the minute institutional, collective and individual dependability and rightful belonging.
Spending a day in the City enables one to see how the space of the City is temporal. The constant process of preservation and reinvention â of exclusion and belonging â signals the ever-shifting nature of the space, and this is important because it illustrates that the current process of spatial hegemony in the City that serves the finance industry and its well-paid workers is not fixed; rather it is fluid and transitory; and, as such, it is both contestable and changeable. The notion of space as perpetually shifting and integrally part of the everyday also brings into the frame the spatiality of politics and the spatiality of responsibility. In other words, it brings recognition that space is shaped through constant internal interactions and relations as well as relations and interactions with spaces and people elsewhere, and that these interactions and relations have a bearing on peopleâs lives within and beyond the core, a process Massey (2005: 188) has termed âgrounded connecte...