Modern cities, especially those shaped by late-stage capitalism and rampant consumerism, may seem to offer boundless convenience and opportunity. Yet behind glittering skyscrapers and sprawling commercial districts, deeper currents are at work—currents that experts describe in terms as dramatic as “psychosis,” “overproduction,” and “repression.” In a recent discussion, Professor Jang Yong-sun of Hongik University explored how architecture, philosophy, and psychoanalysis intersect in contemporary urban spaces, shedding light on the hidden flows and tensions we often overlook.

One of the most striking observations is that our cities have evolved hand in hand with the relentless expansion of capitalism. As modern production separated from direct, local consumption, merchants and manufacturers began creating not just enough goods to meet immediate needs, but vast surpluses in hopes of reaching far-off consumers. This overflow has spawned an endless pursuit of new markets—whether through historical colonialism or today’s global trade networks. In urban life, this manifests in the form of continuous development projects, towering shopping complexes, and the seemingly infinite supply of products clamoring for our attention.

According to Professor Jang, we can think of cities as entities that strive to contain and regulate an underlying magma of raw human desires. Borrowing ideas from psychoanalysis—particularly from figures like Freud, Lacan, or Deleuze—Professor Jang notes that cities operate much like a psyche. On one hand, they impose order through zoning, commercial districts, and rigid infrastructure grids. On the other hand, they cannot fully repress the “red-hot energy” that naturally bubbles up, whether in cultural movements, protests, or spontaneous gatherings in parks or pedestrian plazas.

Some urban theorists label today’s hyper-commercial spaces as “junk spaces.” These are locations—like massive transit hubs, monotonous chain stores, or vast shopping malls—where people pass through quickly without forming any meaningful attachment. They are the spatial equivalent of “junk food”: easy, convenient, but lacking in substantive nourishment. Such spaces exist primarily to facilitate the flow of capital and people, rather than to enrich communal life or encourage genuine human connection.

Yet modern cities also harbor what Professor Jang calls “event spaces,” places that spark creativity and disrupt the relentless churn of consumer culture. Think of a bustling café where patrons gather not just to sip coffee but to work, debate, form new ideas, or organize community events. Or consider a reclaimed riverside walkway where impromptu music, art, or dance concerts give people a sudden glimpse of genuine freedom and possibility. These fluid, loosely defined areas subvert the rigid logic of purely functional design and can invite the sort of spontaneous, even chaotic gatherings that keep a city’s soul alive.

Where does all this lead us? According to Professor Jang—and echoing the French philosopher Alain Badiou—our society stands on the verge of a possible shift, propelled by new technologies like artificial intelligence, blockchain, and space exploration. Late-stage capitalism may soon extend its reach even beyond Earth, creating new “frontiers” in the Arctic or on other planets. The question is whether that extreme expansion will actually enhance humanity’s well-being or instead accelerate an already precarious imbalance. If cities (and societies) continue to treat infinite growth as the primary goal, we risk tipping into a crisis of sustainability, community, and even personal sanity.

Still, there is reason for hope. As many psychoanalysts would argue, repressed energies eventually find a release. The challenge is to guide that release in constructive ways. Protests, festivals, open plazas, and shared cultural experiences serve as vital “safety valves,” preventing a violent eruption of pent-up frustration. Yet even well-designed urban projects alone cannot solve structural issues like inequality, resource depletion, and social stratification. Real transformation demands both a rethinking of city spaces and a willingness to confront capitalism’s “excess” at its core.

So, where is Waldo in this sprawling metropolis of noise and neon lights?

‍Waldo is the root insight that we cannot keep fueling runaway consumption and expansion without a serious reckoning. It is the call to reclaim urban spaces not merely for profit but for the spontaneous, collective expressions that keep us human. Waldo emerges when we acknowledge that cities, like people, harbor a fragile balance of desire, creativity, and order—and that sustainability and genuine community can only flourish if we hold ourselves accountable for the flows we unleash. Finding Waldo means confronting the fundamental question: Do we continue rushing headlong into ever-expanding, profit-driven frontiers—or do we pause, rethink, and design a world where our “magma” of desires can flow without destroying the very fabric of our shared home?

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