ORIGINAL ARTICLE

Theory, Culture and Housing

Amos Rapoport
The School of Architecture and Urban Planning, University of Wisconsin ± Milwaukee, Milwaukee, WI, USA

Housing, Theory and Society 2001; 17: 145–165.

In this article the study of housing (and other built environments) is located within the context of an explanatory theory of
environment-behavior relations. The need for operational definitions and ‘dismantling’ as general approaches is emphasized.
After defining housing, it is suggested that it is impossible to relate ‘culture’ (or ‘society’) to housing (or any built
environment), because these concepts are too broad, general and abstract. More specific and concrete variables derived by
dismantling ‘culture’ are then shown to be related easily to housing, housing choices and preferences, group differences, etc.
The value of using popular and mass media, advertisements and the like in this process is emphasized.
Key words: theory, environment-behavior relations, built environments, housing, systems of settings, culture, operational
definitions, dismantling, expressions of culture.

Amos Rapoport, The School of Architecture and Urban Planning, University of Wisconsin – Milwaukee, PO Box 413,
Milwaukee, WI 53201, USA. Tel: ‡414 229 4014. Fax: ‡414 229 6976.

INTRODUCTION dismantling is a constant, a standard technique or

approach and, for scientiéc holism, re-synthesis at
This article takes a particular conceptual and metho-
higher levels of abstraction is necessary. Applied to
dological approach to the three terms of the title of this
“culture,” it makes it possible to relate “culture” (and
journal, by considering them hierarchically, starting
hence “society” 1) to housing. A series of examples is
with a general, explanatory theory of environment-
used to show how easily components and expressions
behavior relations (EBR), through a framework based
of culture, unlike “culture” can be related to “housing,”
on “culture,” to a series of highly speciéc cultural and
although that also needs to be deéned explicitly.
social variables, useful both for the analysis and design.
Although this will be discussed later in somewhat
The article builds on two recent publications (Rapo-
more detail, I brieèy discuss the nature of housing and
port, 1998, 2000). The érst concerns explanatory
of one of its attributes – environmental quality.
theory in EBR. The second addresses the use of
All deénitions and dismantlings of “environment”
“culture” in housing. First each is summarized.
clearly also apply to housing. The most useful here,
The érst article (Rapoport, 2000) proposes a
because it is the most concrete, considers housing as a
“scientiéc approach” to EBR, and provides a
system of settings within which a certain system of
metatheoretical sketch of an explanatory theory of
activities takes place (Rapoport, 1990a, 1998). The
EBR within which environment-behavior studies
environmental quality of housing is described as a set
(EBS) needs to be seen. Housing is a particularly
of attributes, obtained by dismantling and can be
striking example of the need for theory. There is too
represented as a proéle (Rapoport, 1995d (1990);
much information, numerous disconnected pieces of
Khattab, 1993). Housing choice is of a particular
empirical research, which, in effect, become counter-
system of settings and its associated environmental
productive. An important role of theory is to subsume
quality (Rapoport, 1985, 1995c, (1985), 1995a,
much data in easily remembered and used formats
(1990a)). Environmental quality is evaluated through
(known as compressibility). Even a conceptual frame-
several of the components of culture to be discussed
work can help by organizing material, although not as
later (speciécally ideals, images, schemata and mean-
much as theory. The second (Rapoport, 1998) suggests
ings, and norms, standards, expectations and rules –
a general process – dismantling. Since I believe that
part of a general model of preference involved in
“holism” (in the non-scientiéc sense) is impossible,
choice and design). Speciéc “élters” and evaluative
criteria deéne variable environmental quality proéles,
1
Note that “society,” like “culture” (and many other concepts) helping to answer the question of what is a “good” or
needs to be dismantled in order to make it usable. As it stands, it
seems just as unusable as “culture,” and for similar reasons “better” environment, better for whom, why and how
discussed later in this article. one knows it is better (Fig. 1).

Ó 2001 Taylor & Francis. ISSN 1403–6096 Housing, Theory and Society
146 A. Rapoport
Fig. 1. Model of evaluative process (which, with minor modiécations, can also be applied to other subdomains).
EXPLANATORY THEORY AS A GENERAL
CONTEXT
I approach housing in the context of EBS, understood
as the science of EBR – a context even broader than
explanatory theory, although the latter is possibly the
most important attribute of science. One begins by
deéning the domain of EBS, through both subject
matter and important questions about it (Shapere, 1977;
Rapoport, 1990b, Ch. 1). The metatheoretical sketch of
an explanatory theory of EBR is derived directly from
that deénition with just one epistemological assump-
tion: that science provides the only reliable way of
acquiring knowledge.
Explanatory theory helps us to understand the world,
and can be contrasted with so-called architectural
“theory,” which is a (usually unfounded) normative
position about how buildings should be. Explanatory
theory is not normative, but tries to understand (and
thus explain) the patterns, linkages and forms of
interaction between environment and behavior, includ-
ing their mechanisms. These are investigated empiri-
cally since empirical testing is central to explanatory
theory. Although such theory must be general, able to
explain general phenomena, it should be applicable to
speciéc cases by introducing speciécs, as the examples
given later will show.
However, énding patterns is a crucial step in the
process of theory development. The search for patterns
requires the largest and most diverse body of evidence
which, in turn, requires expansion of the body of
evidence in four ways: to include all environments, all
cultures, the whole environment and the full span of
2
The possible mechanisms seem few in number; a érst list includes
eight plus an as yet undetermined number of the components of
culture to be discussed later (Rapoport 2000).
Housing, Theory and Society
history (Rapoport, 1990b:11–19). This helps with
generalization and provides “model systems” (corre-
sponding to those used in, for example, the biomedical
sciences) (c.f. Rapoport, 2000).
The starting point is the three basic questions of EBR
which offer the simplest, briefest, most fundamental,
and thus most useful, deénition of the domain.
* What biosocial, psychological and cultural charac-
teristics of human beings (as individuals, member of
a species and of various groupings) influence (and,
in design, should influence) which characteristics of
the built environment?
* What effects do which aspects of which environ-
ments have on which groups of people, under what
circumstances and why?
* Given these two-way interactions between people
and environments, there must be mechanisms
linking them; what are these mechanisms?2
These questions describe the subject matter of EBS,
subsuming much speciéc material, and can be dis-
mantled to any degree of speciécity and precision. As
questions they are too general as posed, but are capable
of being dismantled. This formulation is also open-
ended and new developments in EBS or other
disciplines can be incorporated.
One clearly needs an operational deénition of
“environment.” Since “holism” in its non-scientiéc
sense is not an option, this deénition involves explicit
dismantling; thus, this aspect of ontology emerges
naturally. I have found four complementary concep-
tualizations of “environment” to be most useful, (and
their utility varies with the topic or question being
studied):
* the organization of space, time, meaning and
communication;

Fig. 2. The two buildings above cannot be compared as
dwellings. The two systems of ten settings each deéne the
dwelling and form the units suitable for cross-cultural
comparison. (Based on Rapoport 1990c, Fig. 2.5, p. 16;
1994a, Fig. 2, p. 464, 1998, Fig. 2.)
* a system of settings within which systems of
activities (including their latent aspects) take place;
* the cultural landscape;
* composed of fixed, semi-fixed and non-fixed
elements.
The érst is the most abstract, followed by systems of
settings and cultural landscapes; éxed, semi-éxed and
non-éxed elements are the most concrete. This also
ranks them from the most complex to the simplest,
because the érst needs much further dismantling (for
example, many varieties of space can be listed easily
(Rapoport, 1977:12–13)). The second was used to
deéne “housing” so as to enable cross-cultural studies
helping in theory development (Fig. 2).
This system, in turn, is embedded, in different ways,
into larger systems of settings (e.g. blocks, compounds,
neighborhoods, settlements and sometimes even
regions). Housing must then be considered in relation
to streets, open spaces, other settings and neighbor-
hoods. It becomes important to discover the extent of
the relevant systems rather than assume them (Rapo-
port, 1977, 1990a; c.f. a useful general approach is
progressive contextualization (Vayda, 1983)). The
number of specialized settings grows as societies
become more complex (Rapoport, 1990a; Kent, 1991;
Yellen, 1985; Sancar and Koop, 1995). Also involved
are lifestyles and rules about what behavior is appro-
priate in which setting (Baumgartner, 1988), which
inèuences acceptability and deénitions of crowding,
Theory, culture and housing 147
Fig. 3. Relationships between housing, deéned as a system
of settings, and the larger systems of neighborhood and
settlement.
privacy, etc. – and thus environmental quality (Fig. 3).
This is important, because what happens, or does not
happen, in some settings inèuences what happens, or
does not happen, in others (e.g. Rapoport, 1986,
1990a), explaining some of the differences in housing.
Such differences seem to be mainly in the transitions
between the dwelling and related out of dwelling
settings, including stoops, stairs, workplaces, shops,
trees, streets and so on (e.g. Rapoport, 1977, 1983;
Rybczynski and Bhatt, 1986; Lawrence, 1986). It also
helps to explain the role and nature of neighborhoods
(Rapoport, 1986, 1997b), settlement patterns and
transportation routes. Via the other conceptualizations
of environment it relates housing to time and commu-
nication, ambience and its components, meaning (and,
hence, latent functions, status, identity, etc.) and the
role of éxed, semi-éxed and non-éxed elements in
communicating such meanings. One énds a major and
“natural” uniécation, and increased understanding so
that, for example, since meanings such as identity, will
vary with culture they will be communicated, through
different éxed, semi-éxed and non-éxed cues; if only
the latter are used buildings or furnishings play no role
(Rapoport, 1981, 1990d).
“CULTURE” AS A SPECIFIC CONTEXT
“Culture” plays a role in all three questions. Regarding
housing an important question is why, when considered
historically and cross-culturally there are so many
different forms of housing in such different settlement
types (e.g. Oliver, 1987, 1997), although activities in
dwellings are much less variable and fewer in number.
The general answer has been “cultural differences,”
particularly since housing as the primary setting par
Housing, Theory and Society
148 A. Rapoport
excellence, has traditionally been the most typical
product of vernacular design and, therefore, most
directly related to culture. Vernacular environments,
and spontaneous settlements in developing countries,
i.e. most housing, is the result of “selectionism,” an
evolutionary process whereby environments gradually
become congruent with activity systems, lifestyles,
meanings, etc. (Rapoport, 1995a (1986) by applying
rules which are often unwritten, as in most cultural
landscapes (and housing may comprise large portions
of some such landscapes). The recognizable nature of
cultural landscapes and style in buildings both result
from the systematic and consistent application of
systems of rules. Vernacular design was believed to
use unwritten rules, but it appears that in some contexts
rules may be written, or formalized in other ways,
through Feng Shui masters and manuals in China and
Korea (Nemeth, 1987) or the legal rules (and local
traditions) in Moslem cities (Hakim, 1986, 1994).
High-style and, above all, contemporary environ-
ments typically involve codiéed, legalistic, formal,
written rules and design is “instructionist” (Rapoport,
1995a (1986)). This is due partly to the greater
involvement of professional designers, partly the
greater heterogeneity of human groups, the existence
of many more specialized settings and also the greater
mobility of populations, rapid culture-change, etc.
(Rapoport, 1983, 1985). Since culture-change con-
tinues, and there is also ecological succession in
housing, changing age structures of populations, etc.,
open-ended design is needed, as it is for other reasons,
some discussed later (Rapoport, 1995b (1990)). The
replacement of “selectionism” by “instructionism” is a
major reason for the need for research-based knowl-
edge that EBS and EBR theory can provide, especially
in the case of housing.
The close relation of housing and culture also
implies that housing often, although not always,
communicates identity (e.g. Duncan, 1981; Rapoport,
1981). It follows that latent functions (meanings) and
images are more important than instrumental functions
(Rapoport, 1994) which, however, set limits and
constraints. The importance of latent functions, espe-
cially of meaning (which, itself needs to be dismantled
(Rapoport, 1988, 1990c)) helps to explain the varia-
bility of housing. Some of the variability may be due to
constraints, the effect of which are sometimes difécult
to distinguish from the effects of wants. Also, “culture”
seems to be more important in wants than in “needs,”
and also in how both are satiséed.
The need for culture-speciéc housing (or design) has
increasingly been recognized. However, further
3
I could also have used élm, TV, etc.
Housing, Theory and Society
advances were impossible, because “culture” is not a
thing but a concept (or deénition). One cannot deal
with culture-environment relations at that level of
generality and abstractness. I have, therefore, gradually
developed ways of dismantling this concept, the latest
version of which is Figure 4.
The érst step is to try to deéne “culture.” There are
three useful, complementary classes of deénitions that
ask, “what is culture” and three that ask, “what does
culture do” (Rapoport, 1995a (1986)). How important
culture is vis-à-vis other human characteristics, and its
variability versus possible pan-human constancies or
constraints (such as “human nature” or epigenetic
rules) are empirical questions. These are in a state of
èux due to ongoing research in evolutionary science,
behavioral genetics, molecular biology, evolutionary
psychology, sociobiology and the like; the answer is
not self-evident (Rapoport, 1997a, 1998, 2000).
One can discuss in detail, and give reasons for, each
step of the dismantling process. This cannot be
repeated here (see Rapoport, 1998); also, some
components of culture, such as lifestyle and activity
systems need to be dismantled in turn.
The variables in the model enable us to begin to
analyze and synthesize the many existing housing
studies, much information in the popular press and
media, and also to relate material from many places,
groups and periods (Rapoport, 1997a) as well as
changes. One can begin to develop and clarify these
variables and establish patterns and numerous “lateral”
linkages on the way toward theory development.
Although the nature of groups is important (and the
usual starting point) it might prove more useful to
begin with the variables identiéed. This I do later,
using examples, mainly from newspapers, but also
some from advertisements and novels 3 (Rapoport,
1990c, d, 1995c (1985)). Before discussing speciéc
variables, however, some more general remarks about
applying the model are in order.
APPLYING THE MODEL
In this section I address two topics: the nature of groups
involved in “culture-speciéc housing,” and the notion
of environmental quality, to suggest how the variables
identiéed in Figure 4 and used in the examples can
begin to be related.
Human groups
Among deénitions of culture is one that considers
culture as that which deénes and distinguishes among
groups (which have been called “pseudo-species”). It is
their existence that leads to culture – housing relation-
ships. Moreover, such groups can be (and often tend to
be) rather small, (although countries and cultures are
 Theory, culture and housing 149

Fig. 4. Dismantling of “culture” and relating its expressions to the built environment (the width of arrows corresponds
approximately to the hypothetical feasibility and ease of relating the various elements). (Based on Rapoport, 1977, Fig. 1.9, p.
20; 1993a, Fig. 1, p. 16; 1994a, Fig. 3, p.476, 1995e; Fig. 2, p.16, 1998, Fig. 6; 2000, Fig. 2, p. 127.)

still confounded (e.g. Newell, 1997)); it is also an
under-researched topic in EBS.
The relatively small size of groups is not suféciently
emphasized in discussions of “culture” or “society.”
For example, in India, 4635 distinct human commu-
nities, such as castes, tribes and the like, have been
identiéed, including 75 endangered tribal groups, and
324 functioning languages, using 25 different scripts
(Bagla, 1999). In connection with housing, these can
probably be subdivided further by degree of moder-
nization, education, occupation, place of residence
(e.g. size, type and location of settlement), sex, age, etc.
Thus Devlin (1994) found no socioeconomic or
regional differences in housing preferences in the
USA, but there were sex and age differences. Such
further subdivision might well result in many more
lifestyle groups, as discussed later (c.f. Rapoport, 1985,
1998).
In Guatemala 60% of the population of 11,000,000,
identify themselves as Maya, but speak 22 different
languages (El Futuro Maya 1999). The average size of
one of these groups is, therefore, 300,000. Variables
like those suggested for India would lead to smaller
lifestyle groups.
One result of the “natural” emergence of “culture”
from the three basic questions obviates the need to
introduce “special user groups.” One just needs to refer
to groups (part of question one) which have sets of
attributes. The typical categories used, such as chil-
dren, youth, elderly, women, disabled, homeless,
cognitively impaired, urban poor of the developing
countries, and the like, are not needed, except possibly
in applied research and research applications. They
may also be useful as “model systems,” corresponding
to those used in biomedical research, in which EBR are
seen more clearly, being more extreme and at higher
criticality. Also, these aggregates and/or groups are
then deéned not by age, or economic status or other
imposed etic categories, but through lists of emic or
derived etic attributes that follow from the three basic
questions and the dismantling of culture shown in
Figure 4.
As the small size of groups has become clearer, the
number of lifestyle groups used in marketing and
advertising generally has gone up. In (Rapoport, 1977)
4 were used, but now more than 50 lifestyle groups
relevant to housing are used in the USA (Rapoport,
1985). These only include potential buyers of new

Housing, Theory and Society

150 A. Rapoport
housing. Considering buyers of existing houses, ren-
ters, residents of “mobile homes,” the homeless, etc.,
more such groups are likely. Also, in the USA multiple
and overlapping group memberships are common (e.g.
Gordon, 1978), further increasing the potential number
of groups (and hence the need for open-ended design).
The small size of groups is also shown by the presence
of several in rather small urban areas (e.g. Suttles,
1968; Suchar and Rotenberg, 1994). Such groups are
deéned by geographics, demographics and psycho-
graphics and are used to “segment” markets (e.g.
Barmash, 1988; on housing see Sternlieb and Hughes,
1986:16ff; Gilbert, 1989). Not only is different housing
often required for different groups, but so are different
sales techniques (Anders, 1991). Differences among
groups also inèuence the nature and design (and
location) of shops, including supermarkets, in the
USA (Stevenson, 1992), the goods carried, displays,
etc.
In US politics, one consultant divides voters into 62
“lifestyle clusters”, whereas another uses 120 ethnic
categories (Milbank, 1999:26). Once again, these could
be subdivided further, or differently, for purposes of
housing and EBR. These are empirical questions on
which research is urgently needed.
Environmental quality
As already mentioned, group differences in the
evaluation of environmental quality are the result of
values, ideals, images, etc., and norms, expectations,
etc. (often related to status). There are two major
meanings of environmental quality; we are concerned
with that emphasizing social and psychological
aspects. It is made up of many components, which
require dismantling and can be expressed as a proéle
(Rapoport, 1977, 1985, 1995d (1990); Khattab, 1993).
One such component is space, so that while house-
hold size in the USA has decreased, dwelling size has
been going up (e.g. Brown, 1996b) as a result of
afèuence, i.e. a reduction of constraints and related to
status and changes in lifestyle. Some houses for
families with three children are up to 7000 sq. ft in
area on 1.7 acres of land, with 6 bedrooms and 7
bathrooms. In 1996, the latest year for which égures are
available, 14% of new houses in the USA had an area
of 3000 sq. ft or more (in 1980 – 2400 sq. ft). Built
mainly in the suburbs of large cities, such houses
comprise 18% of new houses in the northeast, 15% in
Texas and Florida and 12% in the west; all have
features once found only in true estates (West, 1998).
4
This is in Milwaukee, USA, an unusually quiet city, implying an
ideal image rather than reality.
5
It will be seen later that similar amenities are provided in a new
housing development in Yogyakarta, Indonesia (“Merapi View”).
Housing, Theory and Society
Another component of environmental quality is the
preference not only for suburbs (over cities) but,
increasingly, rural areas. This change is based on
“quality of life concerns,” and is made possible by new
technology, among other things. The cultural landscape
of rambling porches, picket fences, Victorian-style
houses, a town square shaded by towering trees and
safety from crime attracts people with children (Brown,
1996a; Johnson, 1996). Such attributes reèect ideal
images (c.f. Hummon, 1990) and, except for house and
lot size (i.e. “density”), are almost identical to those
used in the “New Urbanism” which, in addition appeals
to speciéc lifestyle groups and is also promoted in
terms of environmental quality (as in Celebration,
Florida).
Such areas also have characteristics that some
people might regard as negative, for example, little
privacy and a lack of anonymity (e.g. Baumgartner,
1988). However, the “search for community” has
become an aspect of environmental quality for certain
people, and such characteristics also lead to safety. In
addition to larger houses on larger lots other compo-
nents of the “good quality of life” include lower taxes,
good schools and greenery and quiet and peace “away
from the noise of the city”4 (Holly, 1997).
Since, as already pointed out, housing is more than
the dwelling, the neighborhood and its environmental
quality proéle become important. In a 1995 survey of
5000 prospective house buyers in several US states
(Urban Land Magazine cited in Wiechman, 1997) the
amenities desired could clearly be expressed as a
proéle.5 Of respondents, 77% wanted natural open
spaces, 74% walking and biking paths, 56% gardens;
18 other variables ranged from 55% to 18%.
Similarly, in a special supplement for érst-time
house buyers in Winnipeg, Canada (Winnipeg Free
Press, 1992) evaluation moves from the neighborhood
to the yard, the outside of the house and, énally, to the
house interior, with desirable attributes listed for each
scale, resulting in what I call an environmental quality
proéle. An English novel describes a desirable dwell-
ing environment as a suburb that should look like a
stretch of woodland with no houses visible, no gates,
and the only sign being mailboxes placed discreetly in
gaps of hedges. Green lawns terminate in these hedges
or low walls at the sidewalk, and “because you knew it
must be there you caught the faintest glimpse of
mellow brick [see later “materials”] between the great
gray beech trees, the delicate silver birches and the
branches of a majestic cedar” (Rendell, 1995:116).
Changes such as “modernization” of dwellings may
also be evaluated differently depending on the vari-
ables shown in Figure 4, and such changes have been
evaluated positively in Japan and negatively in India
(e.g. Grenell, 1972; Grimaud, 1986; Bauhain, 1986);

they have “worked” in the former but not the latter.
More generally, the same environments are evaluated
very differently by different groups, including
designers and users as a whole, and insiders versus
outsiders (Rapoport, 1977, 1990c; Brower, 1988,
1989).
Environmental quality proéles not only provide
invaluable information for analysis and design, but
also make possible the transfer of éndings from one
scale to another. The suggestion that successful cities
are distinguished from those that will merely survive
by their “quality of life” (Urban Age, 1999:11) also
applies to housing, since it is deéned partly through its
environmental quality proéle and linked to cities
through the deénition of housing as a system of
settings. 6 (Plafker, 1990; c.f. Rapoport, 1985). 7 Sig-
niécantly the word “dream” is often used in connection
with housing, linking housing to ideal images and there
are striking overlaps in the environmental quality
components and evaluative images of cities and
housing (e.g. Nasar, 1998).
EXAMPLES
Very few examples are discussed, and these are
intended to support my claim that whereas it is
impossible to link “culture” and housing (or any
other environment), it is easy to use the variables
shown in Figure 4, especially those with wide arrows.
As they also interact this helps with synthesis. Most of
the examples are from newspapers (and some novels)
to show that much data are outside the research
literature. This makes it much easier to develop lateral
connection and conceptual frameworks and to integrate
diverse material on the way to theory development.
Starting with the horizontal axis (breadth and
generality to speciécity), I discuss values, ideals etc.;
norms, expectations, etc.; lifestyle and activity sys-
tems. Along the vertical axis (excessive abstractness to
concreteness), I consider kinship, family structure,
roles, social networks, institutions, status and identity.
Horizontal axis in Figure 4
Values. These describe how people value various
“goods” (and play a role in economics). This leads to
differences in resource allocation, which is also the
operational deénition of lifestyle (Michelson and Reed,
1970; c.f. later). Values are studied in marketing,
including of housing (e.g. Hall, 1988; Rapoport, 1985,
6
Of course, the bulk of any settlement is composed of housing,
especially as deéned here.
7
In this article the word “dream” appears, linking values to images,
ideals, etc., therefore, also to standards and norms.
8
This has implications for the importance of open-ended design in
housing.
Theory, culture and housing 151
1995c (1985), 1998). Typically, tradeoffs must always
be made; in housing they are reèected in the relative
value attached to the dwelling, the neighborhood,
location within the settlement, taxes, microclimate,
school quality and other environmental quality com-
ponents, as well as other goods (e.g. Kaitilla, 1992;
Rapoport, 1985, 1995d (1990)). This helps to explain
the choices made.
Values also help deéne groups and make housing
particularly important, because dwellings play an
important role in acculturation and, hence, the survival
of groups through the transmission of values, linking
values to family (Rapoport, 1990c:65–70, Sebba,
1991).
Major differences in values distinguish designers
and users as a whole (and can also be understood as
differences between outsiders and insiders (Brower,
1988, 1989)). This is in addition to differences among
groups of users I have emphasized, and their small size,
both because users’ values are more important and
because most housing is not professionally designed.
For example, in gentriécation, initiators have very
different values from later arrivals who, depending
partly on the success of gentriécation, may move out
when they have children, so that school quality, play-
space and safety become more important (e.g. Klei-
man, 1988 8; c.f. Suchar and Rotenberg, 1994). In
addition, religious values of three groups lead to
different problems in standardized housing, the more
severe problems being linked to activities rather than
symbols (Chua, 1988).
Values help explain many preferences and choices.
For example, private open spaces, such as backyards,
are valued more than public open spaces (which are
also valued) (Peiser and Schwann, 1993). Urban
images in Africa are positive, whereas those of the
“bush” are negative (Olofson, 1975). This inèuences
the location of professionals at the macroscale (e.g.
Gould and White, 1974) and preferences for housing
types and materials (e.g. Beckman, 1976). This is very
different from the suburban, exurban and rural values
of many developed countries.
The relation among values and landscaping (native
vegetation, lawns, trees, etc.) is well known and
commonly found in newspapers. Thus, in German-
town, Wisconsin, USA, the city, under police protec-
tion, compulsorily mowed a “natural” lawn regarded as
weeds and as “inappropriate for an urban community,”
because the grass was over 12 inches tall and there
were “unapproved plants”; the battle prior to the
compulsory mowing lasted for 2 years and the residents
have since decided to leave (Cioni, 1993a; c.f.
Rapoport, 1990c). Neighbors supported them and put
up pink èamingos and spinning plastic èowers which,
apparently were acceptable (Cioni, 1993b). That values
Housing, Theory and Society
152 A. Rapoport
are involved is made even clearer by new subdivisions
that feature natural landscaping, such as prairie grasses
and wildèowers – the residents of which clearly share
those values (e.g. Brown, 1998a). Some outsiders still
dig out such plants reèecting values leading, through
ideal images, to acceptable or unacceptable standards,
norms and rules; these change over time and can be
studied (Rapoport, 1977, 1990c; c.f. Pavlides, 1985).
The high value given to natural landscaping in these
cases becomes an ideology, which unites the indivi-
duals and groups in question. Taken further, it leads to
the development of ecologically sensitive co-housing.
This is run by many committees; house costs are low
and resources (e.g. snow blowers and washing
machines) are shared, gardening is organic and public
transport tends to be used (Brown, 1998b). 9 This sense
of ideological community is clearly based on shared
values.
A recent exhibition in Montreal (“The American
lawn: surface of everyday life”) (Muschamp,1998)
dealt with the importance of lawns in Anglo-American
culture. There are now 32,000,000 acres of lawn in
North America, more than is used for the cultivation of
wheat, corn or tobacco. $750 million is spent annually
on seed, and $25 billion for various tools. Clearly much
more is involved than an area of grass – there are
deeply held values and meanings, expressed in ideal
images seen as “a symbol of paradise” (a term used
both in the exhibition and by Muschamp (1998; c.f.
Rapoport, 1990c)). Values are also involved in house
colors. In my own neighborhood social pressure forced
a resident to subdue bright house colors, and there have
been conèicts about house colors between Portuguese
immigrants and locals in Toronto and Montreal,
Canada. In Redmond, Washington, USA, a house, in
an area of gray and brown houses, was painted mauve,
purple and teal. A court case resulted; under threat of
imprisonment and heavy énes the house was repainted,
but the owner plans to leave (Egan, 1993). Conèicts
such as these are growing because, as of 1993,
32,000,000 people in the USA lived in communities
governed by covenants and restrictions enforced by
homeowner associations (Egan, 1993). There are also
laws to prevent monotony, addressing the problem of
excessive sameness (a negative value and image), so
that anti-monotony ordinances have been spreading
across the USA since the 1970s. These prescribe
variations in color, rooèine, window design, placement
of houses on lots, different heights and facades on
9
In 1998, 30 co-housing schemes had been built in the USA, and
100 were in progress (Brown, 1998). Participants have different
values to other groups in the USA, that seek large, expensive
houses (as discussed earlier; c.f. also Baumgartner, 1988). Also,
this number is still rather small compared with Europe and to
suburban developments.
Housing, Theory and Society
adjoining lots, different siding, garage doors, etc.
(Zavis, 1998, although excessive differences are also
rejected (e.g. Rapoport, 1990c).
Similar conèicts concern house styles (Rapoport,
1990c) such as conèict about a modern house in a small
New Hampshire town (White, 1988) and a conèict
between locals and Laotian immigrants in rural
Minnesota regarding some temporary shelters on
vegetable plots; some locals described these “shacks”
as an embarrassment (New York Times, 1987). Values,
leading to norms and standards are clearly involved, as
they are in conèicts in Queens, New York, in an area
described as consisting of “nice, private houses;” the
complaint was that “the suburbs are becoming the city”
(Bruni and Sontag, 1996; c.f. Rapoport, 1990c, Ch. 1.).
Multiple occupancy was communicated by doorbells,
mailboxes and utility meters, many cars lining the
streets, many people sitting on stoops, more garbage
and garbage containers, “for rental” signs, basement
doors, converted garages and backyard “shanties” i.e.
many semi-éxed and non-éxed cues.
Ideals, images, schemata, meanings, etc. Values are
often expressed through such ideals, images etc,
linking these topics and making the use of advertising,
novels, TV, élm, etc., so useful and important (Rapo-
port, 1977, 1985, 1990c, d, 1995c (1985)). Thus, an
advertisement for the Historic Third Ward (note the
name) (Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, 1998) emphasizes
a prestigious lifestyle (linking images to lifestyle and
status); “Milwaukee at your doorstep”; “art galleries”;
“theaters”; “Lake Michigan”; “fantastic views”; “shop-
ping”; “chic shops”; “entertainment”; “stylish restau-
rants”, etc. An image is built up, describing a particular
lifestyle and environmental quality proéle. Similarly,
an advertisement for Unitex (Architecture Australia
1998) shows a façade with roof pediment, window
pediments and columns (which Unitex sells), captioned
“turn your home into a palace.”
The media (e.g. TV) shape not only fads and
fashions but environmental images and body images,
as in Fiji it has lead to eating disorders (Goode, 1999).
The importance of images implies latent functions
(meanings) which should be expected and sought. The
ideal image is more important than instrumental utility,
although the latter imposes constraints on choice
(Shang, 1999). Since ideal images change, open-
ended design is important (Rapoport, 1995b (1990/
91)), as it also is for aging, so that dwellings can be
modiéed without leaving familiar surroundings (Van
der Voordt, 1990; Teltsch, 1993). Instrumental utility
also inèuences transformations, reinforcing the impor-
tance of open-ended design (Rapoport, 1995b (1990/
91); Salama, 1995; Brown, 1996a).
A striking example of the power of images is the

suburban house. Thus, in Bangkok, Thailand, English
Tudor houses were the most popular, followed by
Mediterranean, Bavarian half-timbered; Roman-villa
styles were also popular (Milwaukee Journal, 1988; H.
Ross, personal communications in the mid-1990s).
Europeans tended to favor Thai houses, in the same
way that at a reception during a conference in Japan, I
noticed Japanese participants drinking Scotch, whereas
Americans drank sake. Also in Japan, western houses
have become popular. European (e.g. Swedish) or US
houses are imported, as are house images (Andrews,
1995). Victorian houses are also popular, with pre-
fabricated Victorian houses imported from England,
with minor modiécations for Japanese lifestyles (Law-
son, 1993). Exteriors and interiors of Tokyo suburban
houses are often completely Western (New York Times,
1986). I have observed the popularity of “California
Spanish” suburban houses in Indonesia, even in
spontaneous (“squatter”) settlements. In new develop-
ments in Jakarta, “If you squint.… you’d think it was
another Irvine” [California] (Vrana, 1994). Provided
are biking paths, gated entrances, etc., as in southern
California housing developments. Attempts to design
more culture-sensitive houses were rejected in favor of
Western houses (Vrana, 1994). A sales pamphlet from
a new development in Yogyakarta, Indonesia (“Merapi
View: Exclusive and Nostalgic”; note the use of an
English name) projects a suburban image and, except
for the Indonesian text, the houses illustrated are
difécult to distinguish from those elsewhere, even
when described as “Indish” or “Vernacular.” The
facilities advertised (in English) include: tennis court,
étness center, clubhouse, restaurant, sauna, mini-
market, drug store, jogging track, playground, swim-
ming pool, 24-h security, satellite TV dishes, under-
ground wiring, telephone and air conditioning. This is
similar to the environmental quality proéle of USA
subdivisions described earlier (and to the very upscale
town of Kochav Yair in Israel). Thus, ideals, images,
etc. help explain not only “cultural” differences, but
also convergence, probably due to the impact of images
in the mass media.
Suburbs of Moscow are also similar, where the
detached houses are described as “American,” with
wall-to-wall carpeting, two-car garages, cul-de-sacs
and manicured lawns dotted with barbecue grills and
picnic tables; there is a six month waiting list (Myre,
1997). Similarly, a 1997 photograph of the rebuilt
South Bronx, New York, (compared with a 1980
photograph) shows suburban houses with lawns and
fences (New York Times, 1997; see Rapoport,
1990c:160–163 for a Milwaukee example.)
The elements in the image of “good housing” used in
advertisements, novels, TV, élms and newspapers, help
explain choice, and can be used in design. Thus,
Theory, culture and housing 153
redesign of public housing in Boston involved repla-
cing components of negative environmental quality (a
“desolate institutional style,” “monotony,” a “sea of
asphalt surrounded by a high inhospitable chain-link
fence”) by positive images of “quality private housing
– pitched roofs, bay windows, front yards, front doors
with private addresses, low wrought-iron fences, back-
yards, landscaping and irregular conégurations and
different colors to communicate individuality (Deitz,
1984; c.f. Kroll’s redesign at Alençon, France (Archi-
tecture Interieure, 1981: esp. 62–63)).
Norms, standards, expectations, rules, etc. Values,
images, etc. lead to norms, standards, rules, etc.; their
application results in environments that approach the
ideals as closely as possible, given various constraints.
These variables also help explain the evaluation of
environments (Fig. 1). Thus, the discussion above
about Laotian “shacks” (New York Times, 1987)
involves not only values, but the resulting norms,
expectations and standards, as do conèicts about
brightly colored wooden shanties (“Casitas”) in Puerto
Rican community vegetable gardens in New York
(Gonzales, 1990). New Yorkers evaluate them nega-
tively; they also violate building codes, ownership
laws, etc., but to their builders they are attractive, they
become gathering places and centers of community
life, music, crafts and acculturation; children learn
traditional dances and music, etc., [they become
institutions related to identity, both to be discussed
later] (Gonzales, 1990). Such conèicts between the
norms, standards, etc., of different groups, are common
and may concern the use of streets or the very existence
of garden plots (Blackwell, 1981).
In a Los Angeles neighborhood, the types of people
(Russian immigrants), their dress, use of streets and
other spaces, levels of house maintenance and other
cues, at odds with Anglo-Americans, resulted in the
area being deéned as a “slum” (Spalding, 1992). Such
cues inèuence how areas in USA urban areas are
evaluated (e.g. Halle, 1984; Weiss, 1988; Rapoport,
1990c). Such phenomena begin to explain the varia-
bility of standards (e.g. Choldin, 1976).
Space use within dwellings also reèects standards
and norms. Different groups may continue to use space
differently even after acculturation, with consequent
conèicts (e.g. between generations), although even-
tually space use will conform to the new expectations,
norms, standards and rules (and thus values), especially
among offspring of the original population (Kent,
1984, 1990; Pader, 1993; Cooper and Rodman, 1995).
The application of rules also leads to styles and the
identity of cultural landscapes, (e.g. the “choice model”
of design; Rapoport, 1977, 1990c). As already men-
tioned, rules can be unwritten or written, informal or
Housing, Theory and Society
154 A. Rapoport
formal (legalistic). Rules are thus not only central in
design, guiding choice among alternatives, but also
guide appropriate behavior in settings (Rapoport,
1990c). In a US suburb, for example, unwritten rules
make most behaviors generally inappropriate in public
settings and also inèuence behavior within houses
(Baumgartner, 1988).
Lifestyle. I have argued for some time that lifestyle is
the most useful criterion for deéning groups, especially
today. It is more general than activity systems but more
speciéc than the variables discussed so far. Also, all
other variables in Figure 4 can be said to become
relevant only when they inèuence lifestyle and thus
choice, whether among city, suburb or small town/rural
(Hummon, 1990) or of housing (including design
and use). Other aspects of culture not explicitly
listed (e.g. education, class, race, ethnicity, religion,
etc.) only relate to housing if they affect lifestyle;
otherwise they become relatively insigniécant for our
purposes.
Lifestyle itself needs further dismantling. A useful
érst step is an operational deénition (Michelson and
Reed, 1970), which I have long used. One can also
identify the speciéc components involved and to
describe lifestyle as a proéle which can be matched
against environmental quality proéles (Rapoport,
1985; 1995c (1990) esp. 484–486).
For Hasidic Jews, a homogeneous neighborhood on
the basis of religion and the resulting lifestyle is critical
(c.f. Rapoport, 1997b). The neighborhood needs to be
compact, since driving is not allowed on the Sabbath
and certain holidays. This, in turn, leads to the mingling
of different income levels (unusual in the USA). Within
the dwelling, kitchen design reèects the need to
separate dairy and meat among observant Jews
(Sontag, 1998). In a rural Hasidic community (Berger,
1997) conèicts with other residents concern low-
density and rural quality. Hasidim convert houses to
religious schools (Yeshivas) with crowding when 53
boys occupy two houses, and families with 12 children
living in a single apartment raise densities. This is
exacerbated by the introduction of multiple dwellings
into an area of single family houses, which together
with synagogues and Yeshivas bring outside people
into quiet lanes [c.f. Baumgartner, 1988], and exacer-
bated further by Hasidim turning cul-de-sacs into
“shtetls” (Eastern European small towns) (Berger,
1997). There are also conèicts with the law concerning
ére codes, zoning and other regulations. Essentially,
there is a “clash between cultures” (lifestyles, norms,
etc.) that has split the town apart (Berger, 1997),
suggesting the need for homogeneity, i.e. clustering by
lifestyle (c.f. Rabkin, 1994 on Kiryas Joel, New York).
In the Danish outdoor museum of vernacular
Housing, Theory and Society
architecture I saw a very small house, half of which
was a formal living room, hardly ever used. Currently,
while houses in the USA are becoming larger, living
rooms are shrinking or even disappearing (Iovine,
1999), having gone from being central to the dwelling
to being of no importance, replaced by “family rooms,”
linked to the kitchen; many new houses have none at
all. Thus, in Celebration, Florida, behind the traditional
facades, there are modern, single space interiors with,
at most, vestigial living rooms for display or nostalgia
(Krause, 1997). New values and norms result in new
lifestyles affecting housing.
Earlier I discussed the almost universal positive
image of the suburban house. Some groups, as their
lifestyles change, move back downtown (Brooke,
1998), although the numbers are still very small
compared with suburban growth. Converting ware-
houses and the like, or building new downtown
apartments illustrate this lifestyle shift.
Finally, in gentrifying urban areas, the small size of
groups if deéned by lifestyle reappears. In a small area
in Chicago (Lincoln Park) three different lifestyle
groups were found, with very different evaluations of
housing, use of housing and hence furnishings and
decorations. For one group the dwelling provides a
stage for social performance; for the second it needs to
function as a setting for expressing one’s unique
individuality; for the third it needs to sustain an
atmosphere of private family life and domesticity
(Suchar and Rotenberg, 1994). These are not only
related to lifestyle, but to values, images, norms and
activity systems, to status and identity and to the other
variables in Figure 4.
Activity systems. Activities, the most speciéc
expression of culture, need further dismantling. A
four-fold division is useful (Rapoport, 1990a, 1998,
Fig. 3, 2000, Fig. 1), starting with the activity itself (its
manifest or instrumental aspects), then how it is carried
out, how associated with others into a system and,
énally, the meaning of activities (their latent aspects).
Variability increases and latent aspects are most
variable and the most important (e.g. Esber, 1972;
Zeisel, 1973). They help to explain the variability of
dwelling and settlement forms and also suggests that
the distinction between “function” and “meaning” is
misconceived – meaning may well be the most
important function of built environments, especially
housing.
It is useful to ask who does what, where, when,
including/excluding whom (and why). The answer
determines how activity systems are distributed in
systems of settings and varies among groups (Rapo-
port, 1977, 1990a) and may change over time. The
separation of work and dwelling during the industrial

revolution changed not only work settings, but dwell-
ings, settlements, roles, activity systems and so on (e.g.
Halle, 1984; Jackson, 1985; Fishman, 1987). The
current growth of dwelling-based work is having
major effects on both manifest and latent aspects of
activities and on settlements, neighborhoods and
dwellings. Within the dwelling it inèuences activity
systems, space and time use and organization, furnish-
ings and so on. Visits by clients, customers or
colleagues make important the environmental quality
of the neighborhood, communicating professionalism,
status and identity – at least in the USA (Ahrentzen,
1989, 1990). Changes in roles, family structure, etc.,
discussed below, change lifestyles and, hence, activi-
ties so that among career families house cleaning either
becomes less important (e.g. Belkin, 1985) or cleaning
help is used. Cooking may become less important
(except as a hobby), replaced by eating prepared foods
or eating out. These inèuence the use of parts of
dwellings and the larger system of settings.
The fear of crime (or rising crime) often changes
activities. People do not go out at night, do certain
things or visit certain areas. As crime (at least in the
USA) is currently going down, predictions are possible
about changes in activity systems (and hence life-
styles). Activity systems are also inèuenced by changes
or differences in mobility, due to aging, handicaps,
income, car ownership, the availability of public
transport, car-oriented milieus that discourage walking,
and so on.
Activity analysis helped Sun Rhodes (1993) arrive at
a culture-speciéc American Indian dwelling, linking
activities with identity (as discussed below). Activities
such as religious processions and the like clarify space
use and settlement form as in temple cities such as
Madurai in south India, village form in Sri Lanka
(Bechhofer, 1989) and urban space use in Mexico
(Brown, 1995; Rapoport, 1990a, c). In India, national
and regional space can be organized through pil-
grimages.
Since activity systems are related to lifestyle, values
norms, ideals, etc., they also inèuence evaluation of
environmental quality, as shown by work on Australian
Aboriginal housing – a useful “model system” (e.g.
Heppell, 1979; Ross, 1987, 1991; Morel and Ross,
1993).
Group membership inèuences the extent of activity
systems, such as home ranges, often resulting from rule
systems – internal or external – and thus peoples’
knowledge of environments, their “mental maps”
(Wheatley, 1976); so do judgements about safety
(e.g. Gaster, 1991). Since housing is part of a system
of settings, what happens (or does not happen) in some
settings inèuences what happens (or does not happen)
in others. Variations in home ranges thus greatly
Theory, culture and housing 155
inèuence what happen in dwellings. In addition,
where activities occur depends on the perceived
appropriateness of settings for such activities
(Kamau, 1978/79; Baumgartner, 1988; Rapoport,
1990a, c).
Vertical axis in Figure 4
Kinship. In traditional societies in particular, identi-
fying kinship patterns is indispensable to understand
housing (e.g. Shokoohy and Shokoohy, 1994; Shrestha
et al. 1997; Chandhoke, 1990; Bourdier and Trinh,
1996; Leigh and Asojo, 1999; Oliver, 1997), e.g.
through clustering, since kinship is an important form
of homogeneity at the neighborhood level. Kinship
helps explain settlement form, neighborhoods, street
patterns, house clusters, and house forms, such as
communal dwellings, densely clustered courtyard
housing relying on direct inter-house access (e.g.
Bonine, 1980) or compounds of multiple dwelling
(e.g. Schwerdtfeger, 1982; Stahl, 1991) – all were
made possible by kinship relationships. As for other
forms of homogeneity it is the subjective (emic)
deénition of kinship that is crucial. This can also affect
the perception of crowding (at given physical densities)
which may occur when strangers are involved but not
kin (as in China and Hong Kong). Also traditional
kinship clusters may persist, albeit in new forms such
as the “family circle” in Scandinavia (Gaunt, 1991).
Kinship is also important in developing countries,
among traditional groups, but is disappearing among
“modernized” groups, among whom other forms of
homogeneity (income, class, lifestyle, etc.) become
more important. For example in Kirtipur, Nepal
(Shokoohy and Shokoohy, 1994; Shrestha et al.
1997), the importance of the extended family (kinship
group) meant that ancestral dwellings were subdivided
and/or extensions added, increasing density, as rear
vegetable gardens were built over. In addition, kin
clustering resulted in domestic and social activities in
streets and squares. With kinship less central, life now
is much more private and activities are (nuclear) family
centered in the interior of houses. Yet as late as the
1950s, kinship could still play an important role in
residence patterns in the matri-local clusters in Bethnal
Green (in the East End of London, UK) (Young and
Wilmott, 1962; Wilmott, 1963) which were disrupted
with resettlement in Dagenham, Essex, UK.
The lesser contemporary role of kinship may,
however, be reversed, either “naturally” or by design.
The former may be due to the aging of many
populations and consequent use of “granny-èats”
(and their equivalents) as in Australia, Japan and
elsewhere, various forms of co-housing (Hinds, 1985)
or houses shared by young and old. The growth of
single-parent families may result in communal houses
Housing, Theory and Society
156 A. Rapoport
(Després, 1991). These can be seen as based on
“éctitious kinship” as in some traditional societies, or
as a link between kinship and family structure, not
always easily separable. The development of multi-
generational households can also cause conèicts and
problems, especially for men and teenagers (Pruchno et
al. 1993), related to values, ideals, expectations,
lifestyles and activity systems.
An example of the renewal of kinship links “by
design” may be the deliberate revival or retention of
still existing patterns, in the design of supportive
environments in developing countries (Morgan and
Hiroshima, 1983; Rapoport, 1983). One can also
deliberately use the natural clustering of extended
families and kinship groups among recent migrants.
Often place of origin, language, religion, etc., may
replace kinship (Rapoport, 1977, 1997b; Belluck,
1996), but clustering is discouraged, as in Wisconsin,
USA, where a proposed Hmong development was
rejected on constitutional grounds (Lisheron, 1994; c.f.
Rabkin, 1994). The importance of kinship, however,
may persist, so that among Hispanic groups in the USA
a rent initiative was rejected to retain the possibility of
extended-family co-residence (Los Angeles Times,
1983). Related are recent éndings about the non-use
of child-care facilities by this group, because of a
“cultural preference for family-like care,” based on a
warm, family atmosphere with personal relationships,
either by relatives or in family-like daycare, with one
person in charge of a number of children in a house
(Chira, 1994). There are links here with family
structure, social networks, values, lifestyle, etc.,
which together result in different preferences of this
group for house styles and the spatial arrangement of
houses on lots (Wheeler, 1977), and also color,
decoration, landscaping etc. (Arreola, 1981, 1988);
when clustering can occur distinct cultural landscapes
result (Rapoport, 1990c, esp. Fig. 21, p. 138).
The need for a large and diverse sample, already
discussed, means that traditional societies throughout
history must be studied and in those cases must be
considered, especially because “kinship” and “family”
are not always easily distinguished. Thus, in Mexico
“family” includes what in Anglo-American (and
possibly other Western developed) countries would
be considered distant kin (e.g. Stea, 1995).
Family structure. Family structure is useful in
relating culture to housing (e.g. Rapoport, 1999) and
it inèuences the form and spatial organization of
housing (e.g. Ross, 1991; Stahl, 1991; Bourdier and
Trinh, 1996; Cornell, 1997). Clearly, the congruence
between housing and households is important (Netting
et al. 1984; Wilk and Ashmore 1988; Wilk, 1989;
Blanton, 1994), particularly since dwellings can inèu-
Housing, Theory and Society
ence family life – positively or negatively (Rosser and
Harris, 1965; Gasparini, 1973; Pruchno et al. 1993). As
always, family housing interaction is two-way: family
type and organization inèuence dwelling which, in
turn, affect the family, particularly when time-lags
occur – another reason for open-ended design.
In general, the household and family have been the
same. There are exceptions, although even in extreme
cases, such as communal dwelling (which are also
settlements), the family, however deéned, is still the
basic unit of the dwelling community. In addition,
many current changes in housing (and even settlement)
form and use are intimately related to changes in the
nature of the family unit, which also affect lifestyle,
roles, activity systems, etc. (e.g. Després, 1991; Franck
and Ahrentzen, 1991).
Changes (or differences) in family structure (single
parent, working couples, extended families, co-housing
groups, young and elderly, large families, polygamous
families, etc.) not only inèuence dwelling, (e.g. size,
kitchens, living rooms, etc. (c.f. Baumgartner, 1988)).
Household size is basic to housing demand (Sternlieb
and Hughes, 1986:14). In general, household size in the
USA has been shrinking, with major implications for
housing. Through systems of settings, this affects urban
forms. Smaller households increase the area of hous-
ing, because kitchens, bathrooms, parking, etc., are still
needed, reducing density. Large families, tend to
increase densities through additions, with a need for
openendedness. In the case of a Hasidic community in
Brooklyn, USA (Sontag, 1998) special zoning fol-
lowed, allowing coverage of 65% of the lot, and
reduced setbacks and backyards. Family size link
otherwise very different groups, such as Hasidic Jews
and polygamous Mormons (Sontag, 1998; Berger,
1997; Williams, 1997). Polygamous Mormons require
numerous bedrooms (in one case 10), bathrooms (7),
kitchens (2), nurseries (2), laundry rooms (2) and a
school room (Williams, 1997). In both cases, family
size demands space, and ease of expanding houses is
critical. However, the different family structure in the
two cases leads to different housing forms and use, and
different settings and institutions at larger scales.
Family is also important because it is a most
important intermediate institution that helps people
cope. It therefore becomes particularly important in the
case of both urban migrants (e.g. Rapoport, 1983) and
immigrants (e.g. Yans-McLaughlin, 1977).
Roles. Changes in family structure have an impact on
roles, but so do other forces. The different deénition of
roles among different groups (i.e. “cultures”) has major
effect on the organization and use of built environments.
Roles probably have both a constant and variable
component, so that when considered historically and

cross-culturally, certain patterns will be found, although
variations and changes clearly exist (possibly following
epigenetic rules). At the settlement scale, changing
women’s roles (e.g. employment) means that women’s
driving increased by 50% and was largely responsible
for the growth of traféc in London (Hawkes, 1998); the
reduced use of public transport and the perceived
beneéts of cars10 were also signiécant, so that it is easier
to take children to and from school, and to shop by car –
particularly if one also works.
Role changes inèuence the system of settings at
various scales: neighborhoods (e.g. Wheatley, 1976),
dwellings (Stea and Prussin, 1978; Franck and Ahrent-
zen, 1991; Madigan and Munro, 1991) and parts of
dwellings e.g. kitchens (Hassell et al. 1993). Thus,
changes in sex roles inèuence house types and space
use both inside and outside the dwelling in Portugal
(Lawrence, 1988).
The increase in two-job families leads to changes in
household roles. Men may take on new tasks or, as is
often the case, women maintain traditional household
roles while working, although this was beginning to
change by the mid-1980s in the USA (e.g. Hood, 1985)
with clear links to family/housing relationships.
Another set of responses (already mentioned) involves
changing standards of cleanliness (Belkin, 1985) or
using outside cleaners. The details are less important
than the fact that these various changes have an impact
on dwellings and other settings in the system, such as
the use of restaurants; prepared foods (shops), child-
care facilities and so on. Even more important is the
fact that not only is it relatively easy to trace relation-
ships between roles (and changes in roles) and housing,
but that these are also related to values, lifestyle,
activity systems, family structure and all the other
aspects (or expressions) of culture.
Social networks. Kinship and family structure are
types of social networks. Others have been studied e.g.
with neighbors, friends, éctive kin, etc. (e.g. Frick, 1986,
part B). They provide a useful way to relate housing and
“culture,” and some aspects have already been discussed
(e.g. Young and Wilmott, 1962; Wilmott, 1963;
Shokoohy and Shokoohy, 1994; Stea, 1995; Shrestha
et al. 1997; Chira, 1994; Sontag, 1998). Not yet
discussed is their spatial extent, i.e. whether they are
intensive, local, based mainly on neighboring 11 (loca-
10
The negative perceptions of public transport include inconve-
nience (“journey awkwardness” ), perceived lack of security,
especially after dark and walking home from transport (related to
crime), and cost; the perceived advantages of cars include
convenience, security, cost, time savings, feelings of control of
personal space and of the journey as a whole (Hawkes, 1998).
11
As already pointed out, neighboring itself can also be based on
lifestyle, religion, language, caste, place of origin, kinship,
ideology and other forms of perceived homogeneity.
Theory, culture and housing 157
lites) or extensive, based on shared interests, lifestyles,
activities, hobbies, etc. (cosmopolites) (Rapoport, 1977,
Ch. 5). It has been suggested that the former are being
replaced by the latter, but it is far from proven (e.g.
Rapoport, 1997b). Technology helps increase the spatial
extent of networks, e.g. cars among Samoans in Los
Angeles (Ablon, 1971), or telephones (Martin, 1967;
Gaunt, 1991). Current discussion concerns the possible
effects of computers and computer networks.
In traditional Kirtipur, Nepal, religion and caste
were important, and Buddhist and Hindu populations
clustered around their respective religious institutions.
Traditionally, caste and religion rigidly éxed social
position and ritual status and, through them religious
rituals, social organization, marriage, personal rela-
tions, etc., and hence, social networks. The last were
neighborhood centered, based on strong ties due to
their homogeneity. Caste (as elsewhere in South Asia)
was more important in Hindu than Buddhist areas and
led to éner grain clustering. Currently such social
networks are replaced by nuclear family-centered,
dwelling-oriented, private relations due both to social
changes and new dwelling forms; again, there is a two-
way relationship (Shokoohy and Shokoohy, 1994;
Shrestha et al. 1997; for a Turkish example, see
Erman, 1996).
Social networks may also change with circum-
stances, so that among immigrants religion or caste
may be replaced by place of origin, enabling a small
group to establish solidarity and identity. Social
networks also vary with lifestyle, as in the case of
two groups in a single community. For one group, it is
the absence of networks that is typical, not only at the
neighborhood level but even within dwellings. For the
other group networks are still very important (Baum-
gartner, 1988). The érst group can also be contrasted
with those for whom social networks are primary, e.g.
Australian Aborigines (Heppell, 1979; Ross, 1979;
Morel and Ross, 1987); Navajo (Kent, 1984), Mexicans
(Wheeler, 1977; Pader, 1993; Stea, 1995) and so on.
An important role of social networks is supportive-
ness (Rapoport, 1983), so that as criticality goes up,
whether due to migrant status, age, health, resources,
prejudice, etc., such networks become more important
(e.g. Abu-Lughod, 1969; Badura, 1986; Margulis,
1992). Thus, one can not only explain various residential
patterns, but begin to predict their occurrence and
importance, with implications for policy and design.
Social networks, whether intensive or extensive,
although usually centered on the dwelling, may also be
anchored by various group-speciéc institutions, linking
social networks, institutions and identity, to which
certain institutions may be related.
Institutions. Religious institutions have already
Housing, Theory and Society
158 A. Rapoport
been mentioned, are generally important and differ
among groups. In the case of the Orthodox Jewish
communities discussed earlier, religious schools
(Yeshivot), synagogues, Kosher shops and ritual
baths are most important (Sontag, 1998; Berger,
1997; Rabkin, 1994). They are highly group-speciéc
and are often the reason for clustering, which needs to
be tight and networks intensive, because of religious
rules against driving on the Sabbath. Extensive net-
works may also be based on religious institutions, such
as churches, e.g. among Samoans in Los Angeles
(Ablon, 1971) and other groups there (e.g. Serbians).
Institutions can also be related to identity and, hence,
group speciéc (e.g. cultural centers among American
Indian groups or churches among Blacks (Leigh and
Asojo, 1999)).
Important institutions may include tea-shops in
Korea, coffee houses in Turkey, “Bodegas” among
Puerto Ricans in New York (Hoffman and Fishman,
1971, c.f. “Casitas” discussed earlier (Gonzales, 1990)),
outdoor markets, laundromats, stables, etc. (Rapoport,
1977, 1986, 1990c). Some may be counter-intuitive,
based on latent functions. Thus pubs or taverns are
central for men in certain groups (Young and Wilmott,
1962; Wilmott, 1963; Suttles, 1968; c.f. Rapoport, 1977,
Ch. 5). The role of various settings as important
institutions needs to be discovered rather than assumed.
Particularly striking is the case of Nantucket, Massa-
chusetts, USA, where for 60 years the town dump had
been an important institution and central setting –
community center, trading post and party hall (Crossen,
1990). Its forthcoming closure has serious social
implications. Similarly book shops and museums play
a latent role as settings for meeting single people with
compatible values, lifestyles and interests who would
not use singles bars, which attract very different groups
(New York Times, 1985). Signiécantly, the groups are
identiéed by the particular settings they use.
Status. Built environments, especially housing, play
an important role in communicating status, especially
in contemporary societies (such as the USA, Australia,
etc.) with no rigid status categories (Rapoport, 1988,
1990c). Its increasing importance in communicating
status can be seen in India with the change from
traditional (éxed status) to modern groups (Duncan,
1981, 1985). When housing does play that role, it is
striking how apparently clear and self-evident such
communication is (Rapoport, 1990c esp. Ch. 6). For
example, a novel describes a settlement in where the
location and types of houses (and other built environ-
ments) communicate status. It is said to be “divided
12
Note that “nice”, “decent” and “good” themselves consist of,
possibly, large sets of cues and need further dismantling.
Housing, Theory and Society
neatly into social tiers, like something a sociologist had
built to prove a theory” (Macdonald, 1971:6–7).
Similarly self-evident is an English novel (Aird,
1981:12–13), listing a series of cues that communicate
respectability and status. Among these are: “A nice,
quiet neighborhood; decent houses; trees on the
footpath; no through traféc and just local vehicles;
grass verges; good gardens; near the tennis club” and so
on. 12 This also describes an environmental quality
proéle. Although I often emphasize the importance of
semi-éxed elements, éxed-features also communicated
status and identity and can do so over surprisingly long
periods (e.g. Cherulnik and Wilderman, 1986).
Status may also be communicated partly through
modern forms, styles and materials (such as concrete,
metal window frames, etc.), and by semi-éxed ele-
ments, such as cars, motorcycles, TVs, satellite dishes
and the like (Shokoohy and Shokoohy, 1994; Shrestha
et al., 1997: 61), so that status is not always expressed
through built environments (Duncan, 1981, 1985;
Rapoport, 1981). The differential investment in hous-
ing by groups for whom housing does or does not,
inèuences norms, standards and the like, can cause
conèicts (Rapoport, 1990c) and inèuence the adapta-
tion of urban migrants, e.g. in Colombia (Ashton, 1972;
Kellett, 1999).
How the expectations, values, ideals, images and
norms of a correspondent inèuence judgements of
status is shown in an area of Beijing in which Chinese
communist leaders live. Surprise is expressed that
important, high-status people would live in an area
which is a “a maze of dusty lanes and grubby back
alleys … [with blank walls] … punctuated by simple
red doorways beétting ramshackle homes.” The point
is made that behind these doors lie “elegant and
spacious courtyard dwelling” and a contrast noted
between the limousines (visiting Deng’s family after
his death) and the “dirt-and-cobblestone lane” (Faison,
1997a; c.f. Hedges, 1994 later). This is a result of the
expectation that dwellings should communicate status,
and the role of new standards, materials, etc.
These latter topics recur in the description of a New
Town in China [Zhangjagang] seen as the “nation’s
ideal” (Faison, 1997b). The photograph resembles a
Scandinavian housing area, with two-story, outward-
looking buildings with pitched roofs. The emphasis on
“clean living” – clean streets and lawns and shrubbery
(rare in China) reèect a “new set of values” which
communicate prosperity, show obedience to the law
and keep the area clean, orderly and fully modern.
Sidewalks are of spotted red tile, there is a pedestrian
shopping street, parking is controlled and there are
strict rules about garbage. New residents are given a
handbook about how to act, and they describe the town
as “a nice place to live” (Faison, 1997b).

Hassan Fathy’s well-know example of New Gurnia
failed, at least partly because of the use of mud-brick
and a form derived from Nubia, a low status area of
Egypt. It is signiécant that his private houses for
wealthy clients, with the same characteristics, have
proved highly successful. The signiécance of mud-
brick is shown by another unselfconscious use of a
correspondent’s values, standards and images, in a
story about an Egyptian village. The photograph
caption refers to a village “so poor that houses are
built with mud bricks,” and in the text the point is made
that “unable even to afford cement, the 50,000 villagers
in the Gharb al Banawaan area still live in mud-and-
wattle homes with dirt-èoors” (Hedges, 1994).
The role of materials has recently been studied
empirically and conérms theoretical expectations.
Thus, Sadalla and Sheets (1993) show that materials
have meaning, both intrinsic and culturally speciéc (i.e.
constancy and variability both play a role). The social
meanings of materials also help deéne social identity
(as discussed below). Thus, the rejection of bamboo as
a building material in Ecuador is due to its meaning as a
traditional, and hence poor, substandard material
(Livingston, 1992; c.f. Beckman, 1972 on Liberia and
Kaitilla, 1991, 1994 on Papua New Guinea). There can
also be status differences between timber and stone (as
in Scotland (G. Slaven, personal communication
1999)) and brick. Hence, the common use of brick
veneer over what are timber houses or apartments (e.g.
Australia and the USA).
In villages in developing countries one énds new
materials and forms and manufactured paint with its
new colors used érst by high-status individuals. Color
can also be used for identity, as in identifying Moslem
houses in parts of India (e.g. at Jamshedpur), or as in
the case of conèicts between Portuguese immigrants
(who use very bright colors) and locals in Toronto and
Montreal (c.f. the case of Mexicans in the USA
(Arreola, 1988)). The use of the full spectrum of cues
– new materials, new styles and forms, height, glazed
windows, color, plants and landscaping, furniture, etc.
– tends to be used by high-status individuals and
groups, and then “trickles down” over (sometimes
long) periods of time, as was the case in India (King,
1984, esp. Ch. 1) where it is still not complete (e.g.
Grenell, 1972; Grimaud, 1986). Similarly with the use
of a western (Paladian) style by élites in 19th century
Cairo, Egypt (Asfour 1993). Although here the tradi-
tional organization and use of space was kept so that
the new forms connote social prestige and status, but
traditional ideas about family privacy, family structure
13
A student of mine, Paul Maas, analyzing housing advertisements
in Chicago, titled his term paper “You are where you live,” which
echoes Gibbons (1992) “You are what you eat.”
Theory, culture and housing 159
and guest reception persist. This shows syncretism,
which is still to be found (and to be encouraged) in
developing countries (Rapoport, 1983).
Identity. The many different groups discussed ear-
lier, as well as individuals, all need to establish and
maintain identity – one of the roles of culture – and
dwellings and other built environments often commu-
nicate identity (e.g. Nasar, 1998; Nasar and Kang,
1989; Leigh and Asojo, 1999). It is also signiécant that
in some developing countries efforts (usually unsuc-
cessful) are made to retain (or create) identity through
physical environments (e.g. Barnard, 1984). We have
already seen that currently identity is a much more
complex matter than in the past, sometimes with many
overlapping group memberships (e.g. Gordon, 1978),
with more choice and a greater emphasis on individual
identity, which can arise even from ethnic identity
(Goldberg, 1987). This makes “personalization” of
housing (and hence open-endedness) more important.
Given the importance of identity almost any element
can be used (e.g. Leigh and Asojo, 1999); the conèict in
Minnesota discussed earlier is also related to identity.
The Laotian “shacks” were said to make the neighbor-
hood look like a “Southeast Asian village,” whereas
locals wanted something “Americanized” (New York
Times, 1987). It thus seems relatively easy to relate
identity to housing, built environments and material
culture generally. These may be landscape settlements,
neighborhoods, buildings and interiors, materials,
space organization and use, and various semi-éxed
elements (Kamau, 1978/79; Greenbaum and Green-
baum, 1981a, b; Kron, 1983; Hamilton, 1984; Environ-
ment and Behavior, 1987). Clothing, beards, transport,
places of worship, etc., may also be used (e.g. the
Amish), or among Hasidim, clothing, language, hair-
styles (beards and earlocks for men, wigs for women),
behavior and the specialized institutions already dis-
cussed (Sontag, 1998). These are also used by many
other groups, as are the many components of ambience
(Pred, 1963; Chudacoff, 1973; Ginsberg, 1975). Almost
any aspect of material culture can be used, so that body
decoration, facial perforation and even food can be used
to establish identity. Although the same foods are
available, different Indian tribes in the Amazon rain-
forest have different diets, which are used by anthro-
pologists to identify the tribes. The diets differ, because
the choice made from an extensive repertoire is used to
distinguish, or isolate oneself from one’s neighbor
(Gibbons, 1992). What is eaten or avoided is used to
mark cultural boundaries. Even in the USA, Thanksgiv-
ing foods differ among ethnic groups, maintaining their
identity (Gibbons, 1992). 13
We have already seen that “Casitas” in New York
become identiéed with Puerto Ricans (Gonzales,
Housing, Theory and Society
160 A. Rapoport
1990); as are specialized shops (“Bodegas”) (Hoffman
and Fishman, 1971). Also used is a speciéc “aesthetic
complex”, a set of elements arranged in speciéc ways,
in this case in public housing in Boston (Jopling, 1974).
Also used for identity generally are plant materials and
their organization (Kimber, 1966, 1971, 1973; Ander-
son, 1972), fences (Anderson and Moore, 1972;
Arreola, 1981) and many other items (Rapoport,
1981, 1990d). Particular housescapes, comprising
front fences, brilliant colors and occasional religious
shrines (Arreola, 1988) identify Mexican-Americans
and changes toward the Anglo norm depend on the
length of residence in the USA
It seems that complaints about the lack of identity in
suburbia are mistaken and “identity actually èourishes”
(in Phoenix subdivisions). Identity varies with location,
age of developments, the population groups involved
and speciéc names of the developments [c.f. Rapoport,
1977, Ch. 2]. A variety of cues is also used and
personalization, is more common in lower-priced
areas, whereas institutional design is more common
in higher-priced subdivisions (Blake and Arreola,
1996). Similar distinctions are found in Milwaukee,
USA, between lower status areas with higher degrees
of personalization than in higher status areas (Janz,
1992).
CONCLUSION
These few examples show that housing needs to be
explicitly deéned, and “culture,” “environmental qual-
ity,” etc., dismantled and made operational. Whereas
“culture” (or “society”) is not useful, the speciéc, more
concrete results of dismantling are easily related to
housing seen as systems of settings with speciéc
environmental quality proéles. These also link a large
number of éelds other than EBS, and make possible the
use of a wide range of material, including popular
media. In addition, as was to have been expected, the
variables are related. Since “holism” is impossible,
scientiéc holism requires: (i) that all the variables
identiéed be studied; (ii) that they then be reassembled
or synthesized; and (iii) that the relative contribution of
all the variables be studied, both in general and for any
given case or situation. The interplay of constancy and
change, uniformity or variability and generality or
speciécity have not been considered, but are essential.
It is to be hoped that the approach discussed might
stimulate these further steps that are needed in order to
relate housing to various groups within a scientiéc
framework of an explanatory theory of EBR.
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