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This capacity is epistemically difficult because it often appears trivial while it is functioning. Infrastructure, as Latham and Layton insist, is frequently transparent in use and becomes visible through interruption, closure or unequal access. Uría’s historical tavern reveals the same structure from another direction: its social importance was obscured by moral categories that framed drinking, gaming and informal gathering as disorder. The ordinary setting becomes legible only when analysis separates what authorities said the space represented from what people repeatedly did there. This is a methodological lesson of wider scope. Informal public life is easily missed when research privileges formal organisations, declared functions or exceptional events. Repetition, weak ties and unplanned coexistence require attention to practices whose significance lies precisely in their routine character.
Latham and Layton develop social infrastructure as a research framework for recognising the public dimensions of spaces that are routinely overlooked because their primary function appears mundane. Libraries, laundrettes, cafés, playgrounds, swimming pools, pavements and schools matter not only for what they formally provide but for the social capacities their material and institutional arrangements make possible. The article’s central contribution is to connect infrastructure, publicness, encounter and provision within one analytic language. Its methodological operation is infrastructural rather than typological: the question is not whether a place is officially public, but how its design, accessibility, routines, conventions and maintenance support repeated forms of co-presence, trust and connection. Drawing on Star, Klinenberg and traditions of public-space research, infrastructure becomes relational, embedded and often visible most clearly when it breaks down. This produces a precise bridge between urban geography and microsociology: collective life is sustained by ordinary settings whose social effects are distributed through repeated use rather than spectacular civic form.
Uría reconstructs the Spanish tavern as a dense institution of popular sociability rather than the degraded moral environment imagined by hygienists, employers and reformers. Its iconic idea is multifunctionality: the tavern gathered conversation, political meetings, card games, songs, dances and everyday association within a setting whose informality made it difficult to reduce to formal organisational categories. The theoretical contribution lies in shifting attention from registered associations toward spontaneous, weakly formalised social relations, showing that popular life cannot be understood solely through institutions with explicit membership or statutes. Methodologically, Uría works historically through moral discourse, regulation and social documentation while reading against the grain of elite descriptions that cast tavern life as vice, disorder or alienation. The result is a model of informal publicness in which sociability is simultaneously voluntary, embodied and politically contested. The work bridges social history with urban sociology by demonstrating how ordinary commercial interiors can become crucial infrastructures of collective life.
Zell-Ziegler, Thema and Dünzen operationalise sufficiency by translating it into causal policy chains rather than treating it as a general ethical preference. The paper adopts the IPCC definition of sufficiency as measures and daily practices that avoid demand for energy, materials, land and water while delivering wellbeing within planetary boundaries. Its distinctive methodological contribution is the impact-chain framework, which traces the path from policy stimulus to behavioural, infrastructural and environmental effects while identifying supporting factors, barriers and risks. Seventy-four passenger-transport policies are examined across multiple strategies, including trip reduction, active mobility and modal shift. The analysis is valuable because it refuses to equate a low-demand intention with successful implementation: feasibility depends on administrative flexibility, public transport provision, distributional effects and political acceptance. The paper thus connects sufficiency research to policy design and implementation studies. More broadly, it turns “less” from a moral slogan into an analysable institutional mechanism whose consequences can be compared, qualified and tested.
Hall’s essay is an early and forceful attempt to move sustainable tourism beyond efficiency rhetoric toward limits on aggregate throughput. Its iconic idea is steady-state tourism: a system that permits qualitative development while refusing quantitative expansion that depletes natural capital. The theoretical contribution is the integration of degrowth, sufficiency and tourism studies against an economistic paradigm in which growth in arrivals, expenditure or GDP is treated as inherently desirable. Hall distinguishes efficiency from sufficiency and argues that sustainability requires both: resources must be used better, but demand, distance, replacement and consumption must also be moderated. Slow consumption therefore becomes more than an aesthetic of pace; it is a material strategy for reducing throughput while preserving meaningful activity. Conceptually, the paper extends lifecycle thinking from production into travel, asking research to account for the complete material trajectory of tourism experiences. It bridges ecological economics, sustainable consumption and tourism geography by relocating travel within the biophysical limits of the economy.
Bartoletti, Sacchetti and Mariani treat walking as a situated epistemic relation rather than a transparent route to authenticity. Their ethnography of the Prati di Caprara urban forest in Bologna shows how movement through spontaneous urban nature recalibrates sensory attention, orientation and the relation between city and wilderness. The paper’s iconic operation is “controlled getting lost”: temporary disorientation becomes analytically productive because it exposes how place is known through recursive acts of orientation, displacement and reorientation. The go-along method is deliberately non-directive and minimally pre-structured, enabling detours, surprise and contradiction to enter the research process rather than be filtered out by a rigid itinerary. Crucially, the authors refuse the claim that walking automatically produces privileged access to experience; its value depends on context, attunement and the combination of routes, notes, audio and observation. The work bridges sensory ethnography, mobilities research and urban political ecology by making movement itself part of the object and condition of knowledge.
Thatcher transforms the artist interview from a transparent vessel of biographical information into an object with its own material and institutional biography. Interviews are performative and co-constructed encounters that continue to change after the conversation ends: recordings become transcripts, transcripts are edited, excerpts circulate in print or broadcast, and later repetitions alter both the artist’s position and the interviewer’s questions. Her diachronic method is particularly powerful because it refuses the fantasy of a definitive statement. An artist can revise, contradict or reframe earlier positions, while the same interview can acquire new authority through publication, citation and archival preservation. Thatcher’s emphasis on production chains—interviewer, artist, producer, editor, transcriber, publisher, broadcaster—also relocates authorship from a dyad to a network. The work bridges oral history, media archaeology and art historiography, showing that evidence about artistic life is inseparable from the technical forms and institutional passages through which speech becomes record.