The elements of the American suburban model are well known: the single-family house, the car, the shopping center, and more recently, the gated community. The influence of the American suburban model in other countries seems to be an undeniable fact. For example, the French geographer Jean-François Staszak states:
The future of the cities of the world is partly based on the American urban experience. Naturally, this is because it is very important but, above all, it is because it is observed attentively and copied with greater or lesser resolve and critical detachment…1
But it is not the actual American model that travels from the United States to the rest of the planet, of course, but rather an “imaginary” based on it.2 The American model reaches other countries only after social actors have disseminated and filtered its meaning and symbols. These social actors have varying influence and include the media, businesspeople, architects, urbanists, developers, manufacturers, tourists, immigrants, and so forth. They reinterpret the model in their local social, political, and economic context, blending it with images that belong to their culture. This reinterpretation produces a shift whereby the original symbols of the model are clothed anew with other meanings, in addition to their original meanings. Analyzing the discourse of social actors reveals how these cross-cultural processes and the shift of meanings arise.3
We analyze the discourses surrounding two of the first middle-class suburban developments in Mexico City to gain a better understanding of the extent of the Americanization of Mexico City. In the 1940s and 1950s the Jardines del Pedregal de San Angel and Ciudad Satélite developments (designed by the famous Mexican architects Luis Barragán and Mario Pani) played key roles in the production of ways of life and residential and urban imaginary, each development with its own differentiated social identities.
Jardines del Pedregal was planned by Barragán as an exclusive suburb located near the new educational campus Ciudad Universitaria (designed by a large team directed by Mario Pani and inaugurated in 1952) in the south of Mexico City. Large modern houses were built following the capricious volcanic landscape of the region. Various well-known architects, Barragán included, designed some of the houses with extensive areas for gardens and swimming pools.
Ciudad Satélite, planned by Pani, was conceived originally as a solution to the increasing development of Mexico City in the fifties. Pani first designed multifamily blocks for working-class employees at the center of the development, next to schools, administrative offices, and local services. This central sector was surrounded by green areas and lots for individual houses with private gardens and garages. The development also included a big shopping center with a large parking lot and monumental sculptures, the Torres de Satélite, designed by Barragán and Goeritz as a symbol of the new city at the northwest of the budding metropolitan area. (fig. 1.6.1)
In Mexico, until the 1960s, the concept of the suburb referred to a neighborhood outside the city where poor people lived. During the sixties, the concept of the suburb underwent a process by which it became more bourgeois. As a result, the term began to be applied more specifically to upper- and middle-class neighborhoods distanced from the city center and associated with modernization.4 This process coincided with a proliferation of residential developments, nicely exemplified by the cases of Ciudad Satélite and Jardines del Pedregal.
The suburbs receiving these migrants seemed, at the same time, to undergo a process of Americanization, in the sense of the influences on modes of production and consumption. What happened to make these “cities within cities,” neither of which was particularly inspired by the American model, come to embody American suburban ways of life and the imaginary of American suburbia? The insertion of the American residential imaginary in a society that is culturally distant from the United States (albeit geographically close) became possible through the implementation of diverse discursive strategies, in particular urbanistic and marketing ones.5 We analyze these discourses using the philosopher Cornelius Castoriadis’s theory of the social “imaginary.”
Within the theory, Castoriadis distinguishes between the instituted imaginary and the radical one.6 The former refers to an instituted symbolic system, already existing in society—for instance, ways of living and using urban spaces that are recognized and common to Mexican society. Meanwhile, the latter refers to an original creation of the imagination that becomes a novel form of thinking. If we take this distinction between the dominant, instituted imaginary and the radical, creative imaginary, then the urbanistic utopia—the concept for a new, changed urban model—might correspond to the radical imaginary as it proposes novel ideas. We suggest that the new ways of living and using urban spaces proposed by modern urbanistic developments, such as Jardines del Pedregal and Ciudad Satélite, are examples of a radical imaginary introduced in Mexico under the influence of American and European architectural and urban models.
Such modern residential projects have been diffused into Mexican society through real estate marketing. Meanwhile, publicity—while having a heavy utopian payload—is not detached from reality (institutionalized society) but rather reflects and transforms it.7 Thus, the marketing image would be a symbolic instrument that combines instituted imaginary (traditional society) and new patterns. This is an example of the process by which American-European urban models are transformed to adapt to local culture. Marketing transforms the publicity images into stereotyped prescriptions of what constitutes good living, based on the morals of the family and its class aspirations. In this way, the property market becomes the field in which social and urban models are propagated, and where the function of the propagation is, like all publicity, “to define for the subject both reality and desire for it.”8 Property advertising sells products, styles, and ways of life as if they are “new”; it sensitizes consumers to adopt new patterns of consumption, and it exploits the latent aspirations of homes and families.9 The advertisement doesn’t refer directly to a concrete reality but creates imaginary and mythical realities that correspond with desires, dreams, and fantasies that seek to awaken pleasant emotions in the consuming public.
Barragán, also a skilled businessman, turned to the services of a famous photographer, Armando Salas Portugal, to dramatize the projects and houses that he built. These highly stylized pictures often served as supporting images for the promotional materials for Jardines del Pedregal and Arboledas.10 A study of the language used in Mexican publicity points out, “Publicity lives on assumptions and myths that help to forge happiness, progress, youth, abundance. It is a powerful instrument for psychological standardization that stipulates the promotion of a common ideal and generally accepted human stereotypes.”11 In the case of Pedregal, the images were clearly directed at a political and economic elite, both Mexican and foreign. (fig. 1.6.2) In the case of Ciudad Satélite, the first receptors of these new tastes and patterns of consumption were the upper-middle classes. (fig. 1.6.3)
The influence of international urbanistic models, mainly American, is quite clear in some advertisements: “Today, for the first time in Mexico…House and land for only $74,500 (3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, 200 m2 plot)…Built using the most modern American designs.…” In another example, the “Inmobiliaria Comerical Bustamante SA de CV congratulates the construction company California Homes de México S.A. for choosing Jardines de Santa Mónica y Jardines de Atizapán developments to carry out its attractive plan of house construction following the latest modern American techniques.”12
As several authors mention, from the forties onward, the media played an important role in the transmission of images and messages, whether via radio, cinema, or television.13 Property was publicized in all these media. There was publicity for Jardines del Pedregal on television in the 1950s; a television advertisement for Ciudad Satélite in the early 1960s showed some Martians discovering a “beautiful city in sight” from their flying saucers.14 As the Mexican Argentinian sociologist and geographer Alicia Lindón points out, the creation of narratives in the media, in particular in cinema, was one of the strategies used to publicize and secure the suburban imaginary outside the United States, without mentioning that country explicitly in the messages.15
It is through these and other tricks of the symbolic world that the utopian residential imaginary proposed by modernism and functionalism, sifted through the ideas of Mexican urbanists, becomes a more concrete and effective imaginary that lays down fashions and ways of life for Mexican society. The ideal of the home becomes the functionalist style house, or the bungalow in a garden city. The ideal of the city becomes a space that is rationally compartmentalized by functions. The ideal for mobility becomes the car and fast roads. (figs. 1.6.4–6)
Modernist urbanistic and functionalist discourse, related to the International Movement, constitutes a fundamental link in the construction of the imaginary of the suburb. The International Movement was a dominant discourse in the sense that it exercised a relative dominance in academe and in architectural and official urbanistic projects. However, in practice, the social and political context into which this discourse was inserted modified the original “pure” modernist project and radically transformed it.
Starting in the 1920s, various channels made worldwide circulation of architectural and urbanistic concepts of modernism possible. For Mexico, a rich exchange of ideas came about thanks to travel, visits, publications in the press, conferences—in short, all the means of communication. One example would be the revolving traffic system concept of Hermann Herrey, a German who emigrated to the United States, that inspired the urbanists Mario Pani and Domingo García Ramos in the design of Mexico’s Ciudad Universitaria and Ciudad Satélite.16 Others might be articles on Jardines del Pedregal published in several American and European magazines.17 Mexican projects were more than mere imitations of what was done in the United States or in Europe. Even the developers of shopping centers understood that their products needed at least a minimum of adaptation to local societies. In regard to urban planning, authors such as Stephen V. Ward or J. W. Cody preferred to speak of “cross-national learning” and “points of contact between the urban planning repertories of different countries,” rather than imitation or adaptation.18 Robert Freestone, an Australian professor of planning, reflecting on the influence of the American model in the Australian context, ended up reversing the title of his article, “The Americanization of Australian Planning,” with a provocative “Australization of American Planning.” In doing so, he suggests a remake of the model, a kind of “culturalizing” appropriation by applying it in another context.19
In Mexico, we could say that rather than a mere transplant or diffusion of American models, there was a triangulation of ideas between Europe, Latin America, and the United States. It is undeniable that the ideas of Le Corbusier (Radiant City and Plan Voisin) and Frank Lloyd Wright (Broadacre City), among other architects and urbanists, played an important role in Mexican urban design works. The modernist utopia exalted in both Europe and the United States was enriched and applied on a large scale in Latin America. The most obvious example of this is perhaps Brasília, although in Mexico it can be clearly seen in projects such as those by Pani or Barragán, who designed Ciudad Satélite and Jardines del Pedregal, respectively, and also designed a great variety of internationally well-known architectural works. The Mexican historian Graciela de Garay and the Swiss historian of urban design Vittorio Magnago Lampugnani mention a kind of Mexicanization process of international architecture through its reinterpretation in a Mexican context, where “the technical, material and financial resources” were different; a “Mexican synthesis,” according to de Garay.20 Moreover, the immense scale on which progressive, urbanistic ideas were applied in Latin America stands out. Note the case of Brasília, but also Ciudad Satélite, planned for around thirty thousand inhabitants, or Lomas Verdes, also in the municipality of Naucalpan (a project by Barragán and Juan Sordo Madaleno). These last two had similar plans; neither was finished as planned initially.
The Ciudad Satélite and Jardines del Pedregal projects were initially a reinterpretation and hybridization of the modernist and functionalist ideas applied in the context of Mexico City in the mid-twentieth century.21 The concepts of internationalist modernism that were introduced in such projects included, for example, the very notion of a satellite city, the superblock, the purification and functionalism of architectural forms, the integration of architecture on rocky ground, and Wright’s organic architecture. Such ideas were hybridized when Barragán and Pani were faced by the necessity of carrying out proposals to control the powerful expansion of the city, or by the desire to promote local architecture.
The modern and functionalist utopia, however, tends to become diluted in a context like the Mexico City of that day. This was due not only to hybridization, or a shift of meaning from the original model, but also to the conditions in which it was created, as we will see in the next section.
Such urbanistic and architectural projects emerge in a city characterized by accelerated urban expansion, robust industrial development, deep-seated nationalism and presidential centralism. These characteristics, particularly the last one, gave rise to a close association of interests among industrialists, property developers, politicians, architects, and urbanists during the presidency of Lázaro Cárdenas (1934–1940). These characteristics continued with the subsequent presidencies of Manuel Avila Camacho (1940–1946), described as “urbanization-led industrial development” by the American professor of planning Diane Davis, and Miguel Alemán (1946–1952), noted as a “probusiness presidential administration” by the historian Keith Eggener.22 The conjunction of economic, political, and urban interests that favor the modernization of the city is a matter that has already been sufficiently documented, particularly when referring to the presidency of Alemán.23 It is well known that Alemán was the owner of the land where Ciudad Satélite was built, and this project might have been unimaginable without his initiative. For their part, Pani and Barragán were involved in the promotion of both of these developments; Barragán was the main partner of the investors and property developers, the Bustamante brothers.24
Through the ideas of efficiency and productivity, the industrialization of the production of the city is contained in Le Corbusier’s idea of urbanism. According to the architectural and urban historian and theorist Françoise Choay, it is “the progressive model that inspires the new development of the suburbs and the remodeling of the majority of big cities within American capitalism.” She also adds: “It is a truncated and degenerate system that motivated and continues to inspire the majority of large French developments, such as the unfortunately well-known Sarcelles.”25
Both Barragán and Pani, years after the curtailed execution of their works, declared that they were disappointed.26 Their projects had been transformed: the concepts of the satellite city, of a city within the city, had generated huge developments and gigantic middle-class suburbs that did not resemble the original projects.27 In Pedregal, little by little the gigantic lots that had initially been planned were split up, transforming the original architecture and urban planning. In Ciudad Satélite, the lots sold also became smaller and smaller, as did the houses. The urban scheme that Pani had initially proposed was never respected, in particular the construction of multifamily blocks at the heart of the superblocks. The mechanisms of land valuation, subject to severe speculation, as well as the mixture of political and economic interests, put an end to the utopian dreams of Pani’s Ciudad Satélite as a socially heterogeneous satellite city, and of Barragan’s Jardines del Pedregal as an exclusive landscaped city. Gradually, Ciudad Satélite’s green belt was absorbed by property speculation.
At the same time that the modified concept of Ciudad Satélite was being built, the so-called NZT area—Naucalpan-Atizapán de Zaragoza-Tlalnepantla—was being urbanized at high speed. Faced by the limits on subdividing plots for new developments imposed by Mayor of Mexico City Ernesto Uruchurtu in 1954, property companies turned toward neighboring territory in the State of Mexico, with the support of that government. As Pani himself says ironically, the urban landscape rising from the land became “Tinacolandia” in a few decades.28 Tinacolandia is the Mexican version of Levittown in United States or Sarcelles in France. The name refers to the typically Latin American landscape of tinacos, the water tanks on the roofs of houses.
The imposition of zoning by the state and its consequences for developers played an important role in industrializing the means of production of the city at its edges. The suburb was born from this encounter. For example, the original urban plan of Ciudad Satélite, Jardines del Pedregal, and Arboledas was curvilinear.29 But the new projects inspired by these curvilinear plans returned to the grid, which is a more economical urban form. Houses were sold from catalogs by developers such as Austroplan in Ciudad Satélite, and by Bustamante in Jardines del Pedregal. Most of the houses or plots were aimed at median sectors and sold on credit after buyers had put down an initial deposit.
It is important to question commonly accepted suppositions about the American mold for the middle-class suburb. Ciudad Satélite is seen, in general and by its own inhabitants, as an American suburb with American ways of life. Yet it is clear that the initial urban models were not completely suburban, nor were they solely American. The arrival of this imaginary in Mexico started with the hybridization of progressive urbanism as it came into contact with a society with a different political context.
It is a remarkable fact that, even when urban practices changed and these areas of the city were functionally integrated into the central city, this illusion is still alive as a creator of social and territorial identities. There can be no doubt that there are significant differences in the evolution of developments such as Ciudad Satélite and Jardines del Pedregal: the former continues to have a profoundly ingrained suburban imaginary, which doesn’t seem to be the case for the latter. Jardines del Pedregal is now perceived as an upper-middle-class neighborhood integrated to the urban area, as any other. On the contrary, Ciudad Satélite continues to reinforce its suburban identity. It is striking that Travesías DF, a magazine published in Mexico City, published in 2005 an issue titled “We Are All Ciudad Satélite Suburbanites,” dealing with this type of suburbanization.30 Their competitor, the magazine Chilango, gave space to the topic a few months later. In both magazines it is possible to note the existence of a territorial identity with Ciudad Satélite as the main reference point. The cultural counterpart of this identity is, as is to be expected, the American way of life.
Are these stereotyped representations of the area shared by the inhabitants themselves? To what extent did the residents of these areas adopt the lifestyles proposed by the dominant discourses in the publicity? How did the American suburban imaginary filter the practices of the city? These questions about the experiences of the subjects require a different analysis from the one undertaken here; however, they provide guidelines for continuing deliberations on the Americanization of Mexico City.
Will house buyers be the mere receptors of this advertising discourse? The very paradigmatic case of Ciudad Satélite seems to suggest that for the pioneers who began the residents’ association, these discourses and the suburban identities thus created were instrumental in their pursuit of political autonomy, even when faced by the property company itself, which was both the vendor of the land and administrator of the development.31 It is striking that Pani’s plan, in spite of the transformation of the original ideas, continues to be the inspiration for the territorial imaginary of the Ciudad Satélite residents, even though it has disappeared from the architects’ and planners’ memories.32
Ciudad Satélite was an urban reference for further developments in the area. In fact, the large zone surrounding Ciudad Satélite, at the northwest of Mexico City, is known as Zona Satélite. As these neighborhoods declined in fashion, people from the area moved to Zona Esmeralda, a large agglomeration of gated communities located in the municipality of Atizapan some six miles (ten kilometers) away from the neighborhood imagined by Pani at the end of the 1950s. Developments like Zona Esmeralda can be considered a new modality for the Americanization of the gated suburb: hypersecured and -controlled, in response to Mexican middle- and upper-class cravings for exclusivity, tranquility, and security.
Gated communities have spread all over Mexico City (Federal District [DF] and State of Mexico municipalities located next to DF) as a comfortable and secure way of life.33 Nevertheless, it is not the predominant residential typology in Mexico City. New trends have emerged since the 1990s, which can be seen in three examples: the Santa Fe business district, the repopulation of central areas at Federal District, and suburban in the State of Mexico.
Santa Fe (located at extreme west of Federal District) can be considered a business district that congregates other functions: malls and commercial areas, private schools, private hospitals, and residential buildings and gated communities. It is a zone that benefits wealthy residents who can pay for expensive apartments or houses sold preferentially in US dollars. Most of the employees travel at least one hour to get to their jobs at Santa Fe.34
Since the beginning of the twenty-first century, the government of Mexico City promoted the repopulation of Mexico City’s central districts by facilitating construction licenses for apartment buildings to reverse the loss of population from these central neighborhoods and attract new residents.35 Seemingly overnight, residents in central areas experienced a transformation of their streets: the traditional old houses characteristic of the historic city center were transformed into six-floor, new, minimalist-style buildings.36 The western and southern areas of the historical center and part of Downtown (Reforma, the biggest avenue of the core of Mexico City) are home to new developments such as “New Polanco,” a formerly industrial area now changing to capture middle-upper and upper classes.
While upper classes are settling in the west and northwest Mexico City, and middle classes in the central areas, huge suburban projects were designed for low-income classes at the edge of the metropolitan agglomeration by 1990. Each project is composed of thousands of identical little houses (about 540 square feet or 50 square meters). The owners of these cheap houses have to do expensive and long journeys of about four hours to get to their jobs during the week. Housewives and children stay in the dormitory suburb the whole week.37
As we can see, the imaginary of modern urban utopias, like Ciudad Satélite and Jardines del Pedregal, are no longer models for the new developers. Compared with the 1960s, suburban life lost its charms for newcomers and urban dwellers: traffic jams and urban saturation overcame it. The green factor doesn’t seem to be as seducing to move to the suburbs, as in the past decades; security and “all services included” partly replaced it. Mexico City became a metropolis of more than twenty million inhabitants, suffering of all vices of “monster” cities: overpopulation, traffic congestions, rush hours, transportation problems, pollution, urban stress, and so forth. Residents from Satélite Zone complain about spending hours in traffic jams to move from their homes to Mexico City’s downtown.
Under these conditions, the concept of suburbia for upper and middle classes has been replaced by smaller gated communities integrated in to the urban area, or by minimalist constructions in central areas near cultural and commercial centers.
2 We take the concept of imaginary from Cornelius Castoriadis’s theory of social imaginary, as a set of symbolic systems created by societies (institutions, groups, individuals) according to their historic context. Social imaginaries are the basis of construction of meaning, representations, and actions. Cornelius Castoriadis, L’institution imaginaire de la société (Paris: Seuil, 1975).
3 Cynthia Ghorra-Gobin, Le mythe américain inachevé (Paris: CNRS Editions, 2002).
4 Claudia Zamorano Villareal, “La palabra periferia en México, sus vecinas y sus falsas amigas,” Ordinaire Latino-américain, no. 207 (2007): 13–30.
5 Alfonso Pérez-Méndez and Alejandro Aptilon, Las casas del Pedregal, 1947–1968 (Barcelona: Gustavo Gilli, 2007).
6 Castoriadis, L’institution imaginaire.
7 Martha de Alba and Guénola Capron, “Utopías residenciales en la Ciudad de México de los años cincuenta y sesenta: El anuncio publicitario como vehículo de modelos urbanos,” Ordinaire Latino-américain, no. 207 (2007): 91–116.
8 Castoriadis, L’institution imaginaire.
9 The ways of life promoted by residential publicity in the suburbs were not completely new in Mexico City, since other urbanistic projects, such as the highly elitist development of Lomas de Chapultepec, designed by José Luis Cuevas in the thirties, were based on similar concepts (the edge of the city, the garden city, use of the car, the curvilinear design that broke up the traditional plan, etc.).
10 Keith Eggener, Luis Barragán’s Gardens of El Pedregal (New York: Princeton Architectural Press, 2001).
11 Pécassou, 1973, quoted in Claude Bataillon and Louis Panabière, Mexico aujourd’hui: La plus grande ville du monde (Paris: Publisud, 1988), 175.
12 El Universal, Agosto 1958.
13 Néstor García Canclini, Culturas híbridas: Estrategias para entrar y salir de la modernidad (Mexico City: Grijalbo, 1989); Alicia Lindón, “El imaginario suburbano americano y la colonización de la subjetividad espacial en las periferias pauperizadas de la Ciudad de México,” Ordinaire Latino-américain, no. 207 (2007): 117–38.
14 Eggener, Luis Barragán’s Gardens; Pérez-Méndez and Aptilon, Las casas del Pedregal.
15 Lindón, “El maginario suburbano americano.”
16 Peter Krieger, “Hermann Zweigenthal—Hermann Herrey: Memoria y actualidad de un arquitecto Austriaco-Alemán Exiliado,” Anales del Instituto de Investigaciones Estéticas, no. 85 (2004).
17 Ibid.; Eggener, Luis Barragán’s Gardens; Graciela de Garay, Modernidad habitada: Multifamiliar Miguel Alemán, Ciudad de México, 1949–1999 (Mexico City: Instituto Mora, 2004).
18 Stephen V. Ward, Planning the Twentieth-Century City: The Advanced Capitalist World (Chichester, UK: Wiley, 2002); Jeffrey W. Cody, Exporting American Architecture, 1870–2000 (London: Routledge, 2002); Ward and Cody, quoted by Robert Freestone, “The Americanization of Australian Planning,” Journal of Planning History 187, no. 3 (2004): 187–214.
19 Freestone, “The Americanization of Australian Planning.”
20 Graciela de Garay, “La historia oral en la arquitectura urbana (1940–1990),” Secuencia, no. 28 (1994); Vittorio Magnago Lampugnani, “Luis Barragán: Diseño urbano y especulación,” in Luis Barragán, La Revolución Callada, ed. Federica Zanco (Zurich: Barragán Foundation, with Vitra Design Museum, 2001), 146–77. The “Mexican synthesis” or “hybridation” refers to certain modifications in the application of modernist and functional architectural or urban models to Mexican cultural, economic, and political reality, for instance, the use of local materials, like volcanic rock, in functional constructions, or the use of Mexican muralism on buildings facades, as in some of the Ciudad Universitaria buildings. The original project of Ciudad Satélite was modified by economic interests, and supported by the political class that followed Miguel Alemán’s administration. Economic speculation transformed exclusive Jardines del Pedregal into a middle-class neighborhood, losing its original architecture.
21 Mario Pani, “México: un problema, Una solución,” Arquitectura, no. 60 (1958): 199–226; Eggener, Luis Barragán’s Gardens.
22 Diane Davis, El leviatán urbano: La Ciudad de México en el siglo XX (Mexico City: Fondo de Cultura Económica, col. Sociología, 1999); Eggener, Luis Barragán’s Gardens.
23 Anahí Ballent, “El arte de saber vivir: Modernización del habitar doméstico y cambio urbano, 1940–1970,” in Cultura y comunicación en la Ciudad de México, ed. Néstor García Canclini (Mexico City: UAM-Grijalbo, 1998), 65–131; Armando Cisneros, La ciudad que construimos (Mexico City: UAM-I, 1993).
24 Eggener, Luis Barragán’s Gardens.
25 Authors’ translation, Françoise Choay, L’Urbanisme, utopies et réalités: Une anthologie (Paris: Seuil, 1965), 62–63.
26 Graciela de Garay, Mario Pani: Investigaciones y entrevistas (México DF: Instituto Mora, CONACULTA, 2000); Eggener, Luis Barragán’s Gardens.
27 Upper-middle class in Naucalpan, upper class in Atizapan (Arboledas) and Jardines del Pedregal, lower-middle class in Tlalnepantla.
28 Garay, Mario Pani.
29 Arboledas was another of Barragán’s unfinished projects.
30 DF por travesías: La revista de la Ciudad de México, no. 41 (August 2005).
31 See María Luisa Tarrés, “Del abstencionismo electoral a la oposición política: Las clases medias en Ciudad Satélite,” Estudios sociológicos IV, no. 12 (1986): 361–89.
32 See Martha de Alba et al., Satélite el libro (Mexico City: UAM, 2011).
33 See Guénola Capron, “Autoségrégation résidentielle et ordre urbain chez les clases moyenne et supérieure à Mexico: Une question d’échelle?,” L’espace politique 17, no. 2 (2012), http//espacepolitique.revues.org/2346.
34 Margarita Pérez Negrete, Santa Fe: Ciudad, espacio y globalización (Puebla: Universidad Iberoamericana, 2010).
35 Autoridad del Centro Histórico, Gobierno del Distrito Federal, Plan integral de manejo del centro histórico de la Ciudad de México (2011–2016) (Mexico City: Gobierno del Distrito Federal, 2011).
36 Sergio Tamayo, ed., Los desafíos del Bando 2 (Mexico City: GDF-UACM, 2007).
37 Céline Jacquin, “Producir y habitar la periferia: Los nuevos conjuntos urbanos de vivienda de bajo costo en México (ZMVM),” Bulletin de l’Institut Français d’Études Andines 41, no. 3 (2012): 389–415.
