Recently, two houses were demolished on Andriyivskyy Descent, which we consider the “heart of Kyiv.” Thus, as progressive public opinion would have it, the “criminal authorities” have once again mocked the long-suffering Ukrainians.
Honestly, the “heart of Kyiv” died for me back in Soviet times, and in the new era Andriyivskyy became a kind of mini-Arbat, where bad artists foist bad paintings on dim-witted tourists. But I digress—for a huge number of Kyiv residents, Andriyivskyy Descent remains an important symbol, and moreover, I—the author of these lines—am deeply indignant about the demolition and ready to add my voice “for” or “against,” wherever it may be needed.
The demolition predictably sparked another internet flame war. On one side, there are lamentations about criminal authorities and the heart of Kyiv. On the other—someone explains that everything changes, that you can’t escape progress, and (once again!!!) brandishes a photograph of the Eiffel Tower.
But the real question isn’t whether things change, nor which state of houses, streets, or squares represents the only correct, immutable order. The real question is who, how, and on what basis makes the decision about changes.
And here we once again fall under the spell of the idea that only the bosses know what’s right, and the whole problem boils down to whether we’ve got the right boss or not. In city X, the historic district is declared a preserve and look at those beautiful photos! say some. But in city Y, the historic center—look what horrors they’ve built there, and nothing can be done, object others.
In both cases, it all comes down to the bosses. But bosses are subjective—we know this well enough. Neither the voices of voters nor public opinion are mechanisms that reliably produce optimal results, if any results at all. And if we factor in the corruption, arbitrariness, and incompetence endemic to any boss in any country, we begin to see that we’re dealing with a random process.
The decision to declare a preserve on this street or that one—on what basis? On the basis of local historians’ opinions. But what if they’re wrong? What if, a week after demolition, we discover the house next door was priceless? Who determines this value? I’m not even getting into what a preserve actually means in practice. What restrictions does it impose on the property owner? And won’t these restrictions be such that, as happens in most cases, property owners will stop buying real estate in the area, leading to inevitable decay and the very meaning of “preservation” being lost?
In any case, bosses making decisions have only opinions, backed by no sacrifice, no action. And any boss always and everywhere has one single goal—to cover their own ass.
But instead of sighing and spreading our hands in despair, let me propose a way out. And it is quite simple. The problem, as usual, is not in the commercial approach attributed to Akhmetov, but in its absence, and not in the malevolence of private property (bought the land and do whatever I want), but in the absence of this property.
Let’s examine Andriyivskyy Descent as a phenomenon. Who owns it? There are individual owners of houses, and owners of land plots (for simplicity, let’s assume there is no municipal property there at all, only private). Owners of houses and land plots are free to do whatever they want on their own property. For them, value is measured solely by their own plot. But does a collective value exist for Andriyivskyy Descent as a whole? Judging by the kerfuffle on the internet, it does exist. Who owns it? Nobody. Streets are not for sale.
Now let’s imagine that streets are for sale. A street is a roadway and sidewalk. For simplicity, let’s set aside the question of easements, assume it’s regulated, and again for simplicity, let’s abstract from Akhmetov, Yanukovych, criminal authorities, and the like. Let’s assume we have some abstract Kyiv where streets are for sale, including Andriyivskyy Descent.
Suppose I want to buy this street. To sharpen the situation, let’s even assume that I’m driven by a purely commercial approach, interested only in money, and moreover, I’m not even local—I consider Kyiv residents ordinary boors with incomprehensible self-importance.
Why would I buy Andriyivskyy Descent? Because I know it’s the “heart of Kyiv,” where dim-witted tourists are herded through, where matryoshkas and Soviet trinkets are sold. It’s customary to stroll leisurely along the roadway rather than buzz around in jeeps. Various cultural artifacts exist here—the Bulgakov house, Andriyivskyy Church, and so on. It is this value, which exists in the minds of many Kyiv residents and guests of the capital, that attracts me as an entrepreneur. And it is completely obvious that this value is much higher than the value of a dubious-quality transport line connecting Vladimirskaya Street and Podil.
What will I do when I buy the street? With all my might I will try to increase its value. What does this mean? It means I will round up all the local historians I can find and make them tell everything they know about this place. “Bulgakov scholars” from all over the Earth will constantly graze on Andriyivskyy Descent. Perhaps I will even force myself to read The White Guard. Pronya Prokopiwna will stroll down the street, and Mick Jagger will sing “Sympathy for the Devil.”
I will charge for the use of my property—the street. Naturally, I’m interested in as many people as possible walking on it. But cars are unwelcome. Cars will pay more. Expensively. Very expensively. To such a level that only one or two per day will drive on it (not counting the easement, but we already said about that). Artists and peddlers will pay me. They will not pay the state and racketeers, since the owner is me.
Owners of houses and land plots will quickly understand that they also benefit from preserving the status quo, not from changes. Well, if a house owner decides to disfigure the facade—who will come to them? Currently, nobody would come. But in this case—I will come. I will come with absolute certainty and inevitability, I will come even before progressive public opinion notices anything and starts demanding “how long!!!” I’ll have convincing arguments—for instance, a share in the profit. Well, if they don’t listen—who will mobilize progressive public opinion for a just struggle to preserve historical monuments? Who will finance this struggle? That’s right.
And in this case, it’s perfectly clear who, how, when, and on what basis decides whether something changes. And you will answer incorrectly if you say that I—the owner of the street—decide. Actually, it will be you—Kyiv residents and guests of the capital. Because I will only change something when my profit drops so low that I have exhausted all methods of increasing value. And this will happen only if this street ceases to be the “heart of Kyiv,” the flea market for selling matryoshkas and Soviet symbolism. In other words, only when it has worthy and numerous competitors. That is, when Kyiv becomes suitable for recreation and tourism. And tell me, who in such a situation will lose from this?
Importantly, the decision will be made not on the basis of an abstract opinion of an abstract expert, not on the basis of the wants of voters and politicians, but on the basis of an opinion confirmed by the labor hryvnia, that is, confirmed by the choice and conscious sacrifice of many people.
And last. They will tell me “well, fine, you’re such a good guy, but evil Akhmetov will buy the street before you and demolish everything.” My answer is: this won’t happen. As soon as I learn he’s planning to demolish something, I’ll come knocking: “So, how much do you want for this street?” And any sane, sound-minded entrepreneur would do the same.