The search for the perfect city: What we can learn from nine fascinating utopias

The term “utopia” was first coined by Sir Thomas More in 1516. It borrows from two Greek terms meaning both “nowhere” and “a good place”, which is suitably vague. Of course, disgruntled humans have been quitting society to set up their own idealised versions since long before More came up with a word for it.

Much like religion, there’s a recurring theme when it comes to utopias. They’re generally founded on the principles of equality, fairness and a rejection of hierarchy - everything that goes against human nature, essentially. And much like communism, this is all good in theory, but society isn’t that simple.

And it never has been. Bafta-winning explorer and filmmaker Bruce Parry, who has spent more than ten years living with the world’s oldest and most remote tribes, has said he’s only ever found one (the Penan tribe, hunter-gatherers who live in the rainforests of Borneo) where “hierarchy genuinely doesn’t exist”.

Utopias are interesting to look at, however. We’ve examined nine of the most notable experimental settlements throughout history, and while a handful have survived in some form to this day, none managed to realise their vision to the scale imagined. In chronological order, off we go.

Palmanova, Italy

It makes sense to start off in Palmanova, northern Italy, which was directly influenced by More’s ideas of what a utopia should be. Built in 1593 in the shape of a nine-pointed star, it represented the Renaissance vision of an ideal city - imagined for a society in which everyone was equal and knowledge was free and shared.

“The fortress city was designed to defend against attacks from the Ottomans in Bosnia,” explains American professor Edward Muir. “Built according to humanist and military specifications, Palmanova was supposed to be inhabited by self-sustaining merchants, craftsmen, and farmers.

Palmanova's unique shape survived
Palmanova's unique shape survived

“However, despite the pristine conditions and elegant layout of the new city, no one chose to move there, and by 1622 Venice was forced to pardon criminals and offer them free building lots and materials if they would agree to settle the town.”

Why couldn’t the Venetian Empire lure people to such a well-designed metropolis? Palmanova was regarded with suspicion and deemed by many as being too self-contained, too insular and too perfect.

While its utopian vision was never realised, Palmanova survives as a town - and it’s still star-shaped. With a tiny population of just over 5,000, it’s a Unesco World Heritage Site, with a nice cathedral, the remains of a fortress and an annual historical re-enactment.

What we learned:  If it seems too good to be true...

Original plans: I'd live there - Credit: getty
Original plans: I'd live there Credit: getty

New Lanark, Scotland

Robert Owen, a textile manufacturer and philanthropic social reformer, was a pioneer when it came to 19th century experimental societies - and by the sounds of it, was a thoroughly nice chap. Back when uncapped office hours and child labour were de rigueur, Owen was a proponent for the eight-hour working day, coining the policy of “eight hours labour, eight hours recreation, eight hours rest.”

In 1800, in a bid to improve the living standards of the workers at his co-owned New Lanark cotton mill in Scotland, Owen built them a utopian village. Its houses - where 2,500 lived - were clean and generously proportioned (by contemporary standards, at least), and most famously, Owen built a school for the children of the workers - the first anywhere in Britain.

His favoured education methods were novel too. He insisted that natural history, music, dancing and games were part of school life and encouraged the use of pictures, maps, and charts to make learning spontaneous and enjoyable. There was no punishment for the children at school, nor workers at the mill.

Owen's model community of cotton mills, housing, and ground-breaking schools - Credit: getty
Owen's model community of cotton mills, housing, and groundbreaking schools Credit: getty

It all went to the dogs over an argument, when the company’s prudish Quaker investors took issue with Owen’s laissez-faire approach in 1825, leading him to storm out and quit. He went on to bestow America with his increasingly-lofty ideals, establishing at least 16 utopian experiments there - all of which met a similar fate.

While Owen did much to support child labour laws in Britain - a legacy which survived him - the world ultimately wasn’t ready for his compassionate approach to employment, his experiments were deemed failures, and he died penniless in his Welsh hometown of Newton.

As for the New Lanark mills, they closed for good in 1968, and at one point the village faced demolition, but it was saved and restored and since 2001 has been a World Heritage Site. Some 400,000 people now visit each year.

What we learned: Social change takes longer than perhaps we’d like

Today, it's Unesco-listed - Credit: getty
Today, New Lanark is Unesco-listed Credit: getty

Brook Farm, Massachusetts

In 1841, George and Sophia Ripley founded Brook Farm: a rural community based on the contemporary transcendental philosophies of Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau, which, simply put, proposed that people are inherently good, but rigid societies ruin them.

The idea was that by working together as a fair, equal coalition (women had equal rights and pay), the perfect balance between work, leisure and intellectual pursuit could be achieved. Practically speaking, the plan was to self-sustain through farming and selling crafts. Sounds great!

A vintage engraving of Brook Farm - Credit: getty
A vintage engraving of Brook Farm Credit: getty

Unfortunately, the numbers didn’t quite add up and Brook Farm struggled to support itself. Sinking into debt, the Ripley’s started adopting more decrees and social constructs, much to annoyance of its free-thinking residents, and Brook Farm was - as George Orwell imagined a century later - starting to look more like Animal Farm. A mere five years after its founding, the project went bust and everyone returned to the realities of their daily grind.

What we learned:The perfect work-life balance for all? Likely to forever remain a pipe dream

Fordlândia, Brazil

Hidden deep in the Amazon rainforest, close to the city of Santarém on the banks of the Rio Tapajós, lies the remains of Henry Ford’s ill-conceived utopian town of Fordlândia. As utopias go, it sounds pretty miserable. Women were banned, for a start, and men were forbidden from drinking alcohol, smoking tobacco or even playing football.

The car manufacturer devised the settlement in the 1920s as a way of eluding the British monopoly over the supply of rubber, a key component of his motor vehicles. A colony in the rainforest, he realised, would allow Ford to produce his own. He considered Central America, but eventually opted for Brazil and signed a deal with its government granting him 2.5 million acres, and an exemption on export taxes, in return for a nine per cent share of the profits.

Construction began in 1926, but Ford quickly encountered problems. With no roads to the site, arduous journeys were made via the Rio Tapajós and many workers were struck down with yellow fever and malaria.

bra_fordlandia-08.jpg - Credit: COLIN MCPHERSON
One of Fordlândia's factories Credit: COLIN MCPHERSON

The layout of Fordlândia was meticulously planned. Brazilian workers were assigned one village; American managers another. Typical US-style houses were built, as were a hospital, school, library, swimming pool, playground, hotel – and even a golf course.

The promise of good wages encouraged many to sign up, but Ford’s curious rules - inspectors even visited houses to ensure they were being obeyed - soon created discontent.

To get around the regulations, workers hid booze and other contraband items, or paddled upriver where they wouldn’t be spotted. A satellite settlement - the Island of Innocence, with a bar, nightclub and brothel - was established five miles upstream. Far more like it.

Brazilian workers were assigned one village, American managers another - Credit: COLIN MCPHERSON
Brazilian workers were assigned one village, American managers another Credit: COLIN MCPHERSON

Discontent soon became open revolt: in 1930 rebels cut the town’s telephone wires and forced the manager to flee into the jungle for several days before the Brazilian army arrived to quell the uprising.  

Ford faced other problems. His managers knew nothing of tropical agriculture, and his rubber trees fell victim to pests and blight. In 1934 Fordlândia was abandoned in favour of another location further downstream that offered better conditions. By 1945, however, synthetic rubber had been developed and that settlement was also left behind.

Many buildings remain, with the exception of the hospital, which was dismantled by people looking for valuables. Other structures include the 50-metre water tower, which, incidentally, is still operational, a sawmill and kiln, and a three-storey workshop.

What we learned: A life without booze, football, and women, is a life not worth living.

Drop City, Colorado

Often cited as America’s first rural “hippie commune”, Drop City was established in 1965 by four art graduates on a seven-acre plot of land in southeastern Colorado. Operating under the principles of shared responsibility, no punishment and everyone being nice to one another (seeing a theme?), they grew vegetables, raised chickens, made a lot of art and welcomed plenty of visitors as word spread of their pioneering concept.

The colourful domes they built in which to live were influenced by futurist architect Buckminster Fuller, who later awarded them a prize for their construction, and the founders declared the land to be “forever free and open to all people”. Which may have been their mistake.

Under construction: Drop City's geodesic domes - Credit: getty
Under construction: Drop City's geodesic domes Credit: getty

In 1967, one of its members arranged a mini festival of sorts, dubbed the “Joy Fest”, a celebration of music and art that ended up attracting hundreds of free-spirited, drug-guzzling hippies - many of whom never left the party.

Inevitably, rules were broken, personality clashes emerged, and it all started to err into Lord of the Flies territory. That “no punishment” ideal proved to be far from ideal, and eventually Drop City’s original members gave up and wandered off. A few more years of squabbling, and the remaining residents dispersed too.

What we learned:Rules are there for a reason. But those domes were pretty cool.

Auroville, India

This one can actually be considered a success story - depending on what you classify as a utopia. Established in southern India in 1968 by the late French spiritual guru Mirra Alfassa, Auroville is still thriving as a community of 2,500 residents hailing from 49 nations across the world. It’s also a Unesco-listed site, and backed by the Indian government. While the town was originally planned to be much larger, capable of accommodating 50,000 people, its numbers are still growing.

“Auroville wants to be a universal town where men and women of all countries are able to live in peace and progressive harmony above all creeds, all politics and all nationalities,” its mission statement from 1968 reads. “The purpose of Auroville is to realise human unity.”

Encircled by a “green belt” serving as a “barrier against urban encroachment” and centered by a huge, gold-plated dome; its inner layout consists of breakout regions such as “the international zone”, “the cultural zone", the “residential zone” and the “peace area”.

A scale model of the city plan, based on a spiral galaxy - Credit: getty
A scale model of the city plan, based on a spiral galaxy Credit: getty

The Telegraph’s Stephen McClarence popped his head in during a visit to the local area, and came away somewhat baffled. “The taxi turned off the main highway on to a bumpy, dusty track and we had our first glimpse of the inhabitants (two thirds of them non-Indians): middle-aged men with ponytails and tie-dyed T-shirts, riding motorbikes with an air of determined calm,” he wrote.

“Auroville, whose acolytes agree to be ‘willing servitors of the Divine Consciousness’, started out with ambitious plans, but seems to have hit the buffers. Its gigantic globe, covered with golden discs, was conceived as ‘a symbol of the Divine’s answer to man’s inspiration for perfection’. To our sceptical eyes, it suggested something from a Dan Dare comic strip.”

Slate journalist Maddy Crowell visited Auroville in 2015 and came out with some more concerning insights. “For a professed utopia, Auroville has a laundry list of problems,” she wrote. “High up on the list are robbery and sexual harassment cases in the non-gated community surrounded by local villages, but there have been more drastic cases of rape, suicide, and even murder.”

What we learned: Umm, approach with caution?

Arcosanti, Arizona

The welcome sign that marks this experimental town is a bit of a mouthful. “If you are truly concerned about the problems of pollution, waste, energy depletion, land, water, air and biological conservation, poverty, segregation, intolerance, population containment, fear and disillusionment, join us,” it reads. That’s a lot of problems.

Arcosanti was founded in 1970 by Italian architect Paolo Soleri, who envisioned an eco-Utopia in which 5,000 people would live self-sufficiently and in harmony with nature. He called for a “highly integrated and compact three-dimensional urban form that is the opposite of urban sprawl with its inherently wasteful consumption of land”.

In an arcology (a term Soleri devised which combines architecture with ecology), people would live, work and play in harmonious self-sufficiency; cars would rarely be needed; the sun and the breeze would keep them warm or cool; and there would be both privacy and community.

Acrosanti's apse in modern times
Acrosanti's apse in modern times

It was planned to be built within five years. Today, its construction is less than 5 per cent complete and its population hovers somewhere between 50 and 150. Soleri, who never gave up on his philosophy, died in 2013 at the ripe old age of 93. And while Arcosanti didn’t shape up to the proportions planned, it certainly can’t be written off as a complete failure.

In 1976, Newsweek magazine described it as “probably the most important experiment undertaken in our lifetime” in urban architecture, and Soleri’s vision still draws a steady supply of student volunteers from all over the world who come to marvel at the jumble of strange concrete forms representing his work in progress, as well as to chip in with its ongoing - if painfully slow - construction.

Today, it is overseen by a non-profit, the Cosanti Foundation, which runs workshops for students. Its residents operate and earn income from its on-site bronze bell casting business, and tourists are welcome to visit. See arcosanti.org.

What we learned:Who knows? It may still take off.

Arcosanti being built in 1976... a project that remains ongoing - Credit: getty
Arcosanti being built in 1976... a project that remains ongoing Credit: getty

The Farm, Tennessee

In 1970, Stephen Gaskin, an ex-Marine turned self-confessed “professional hippy” led 250 people in caravans and old buses from San Francisco to Tennessee on a four-month lecture tour of churches and colleges, collecting hundreds of like-minded vegetarian, pot-smoking pacifists along the way.

Alongside the Amish communities of Summertown, Tennessee, Gaskin purchased a thousand acres of farmland and set up camp. For a time, it was the largest hippy community in the world.

The community that Gaskin built, however, was not based on free love - its core values included the sanctity of marriage, importance of hard work and respect for the Tennessee locals. “Utopia means nowhere,” Gaskin once said. “The Farm has a zip code.”

Applicants wishing to join required sponsorship by a resident, a plan for their livelihood, and an explanation of what they might bring to the community. They then had to pass a probationary period.

Gaskin’s attitude to drugs also followed a relatively conservative line. “Don’t lose your head to a fad,” he said. “You shouldn’t take speed or smack or coke. You shouldn’t take barbiturates or tranquillisers. All that kind of dope really dumbs you out. Don’t take anything that makes you dumb. It’s hard enough to get smart.”

Note the absence of weed in that list. In 1974, Gaskin went to prison after it was discovered he was growing 100lbs of marijuana.

Gaskin preaching about The Farm in San Francisco - Credit: getty
Gaskin preaching about The Farm in San Francisco Credit: getty

Under his guidance, The Farm’s ethos extended well beyond its geographical boundaries. The community supported aid efforts in Guatemala, Chernobyl, Belize and the Bronx in New York.

His wife, Ina May, developed a respected free midwifery service for residents and “outsiders” alike - but turned down an offer to be privately flown to Hollywood when Demi Moore went into labour. Other on-site ventures also flourished, from book publishing to a soy dairy.

While The Farm was home to thousands in its heyday, there are presently just 200 residents - the majority of whom are over 50. It is, however, one of the longest running communes in America.

When asked in his old age why the community survived, Gaskin, who died in 2014 at the age of 79, emphasised its practical approach. “We were hippies wanting to live together and we accepted the discipline it took to do that,” he said.

What we learned: Don’t grow weed in your back garden

Findhorn eco-village, Scotland

Let’s end on a good note. Findhorn traces its history back to the 1960s but didn’t take on its current form until the early 1980s, when it residents wholeheartedly embraced the notion of an environmentally-friendly village. And they meant it.

Now considered a town with one of the smallest carbon footprints in the world, homes are crafted from recycled and reclaimed materials, wind turbines contribute to the power supply, and an apparatus known as the “Living Machine” uses (wait for it), snails, plants and algae to treat the water.

Some of the homes were made from recycled whiskey barrels - Credit: getty
Some of the homes were made from recycled whiskey barrels Credit: getty

Our Scotland destination expert Linda Macdonald writes of it: “Say Findhorn and those of a certain age may well respond ‘commune’ - possibly with a slightly far-away look in their eyes, or even a muttered ‘you had to be there, man’.

“But the local foundation for spiritual, sustainable living and accompanying eco-village, as well as the nearby former fishing village, have thrived in this quietly beautiful seaside position, drawing artists and visionaries from near and far.”

What we learned: Some stories have happy endings (and snails can clean water, apparently).

Findhorn: worth a visit for the beach alone - Credit: simon bradfield
Findhorn: worth a visit for the beach alone Credit: simon bradfield