Approaches to Participation in Urban Planning Theories

1Approaches to Participation in Urban Planning Theories

Approaches to Participation in Urban Planning Theories

Raine MäntysaloThe purpose of this article is to make an overview of post-

WWII urban planning theories from the point of view ofparticipation. How have the ideas of public accountability,deliberative democracy and involvement of special interestsdeveloped from one theory to another? The urban planningtheories examined are rational-comprehensive planning theory,advocacy planning theory, incrementalist planning theory and thetwo branches of communicative planning theory: planning asconsensus-seeking and planning as management of conflicts.

My overview is not strictly chronological in relation to thehistorical development of these theories per se. Instead I will con-centrate on the development of the ideas of participation inconnection to these theories. From the normative point of view ofopenness and the democratic ideals of civil society, a historicallyearlier planning theory may be “more advanced” than a later one,even though in respect to other aspects and normative goals,relevant to the realm of urban planning, the latter one may haveproved more progressive. Furthermore, the aim is not to introduceall relevant urban planning theories from the last fifty years, but topresent the main approaches to participation in the theoretical workof urban planning.

Rational-comprehensive planning theory

The development of rational-comprehensive planning theorycan be traced back to Auguste Comte (1798-1857), often regardedas the “father of sociology”. Comte sought to apply the methods ofobservation and experimentation, familiar to the classical science of

Raine Mäntysalo, D.Sc. (Arch.),senior lecturer, University ofOulu, Department ofArchitecture, Finland

his time, to a field that we now know associology. He believed that persistent socialproblems might be solved by the applicationof certain hierarchical rules. With the aid ofthe science of sociology, Comte believed thatmankind would progress toward a superiorstate of civilization.

Some key ideas introduced by Comtewere maintained in the rational-comprehensive planning theory that gainedground in the 1950s and 1960s – the ideaswhich, to a considerable degree, are still at thecore of urban planning thought. First andforemost, Comte’s association of the methodsof classical science with the study of societiesand social phenomena is central to the theoryof rational-comprehensive planning. Thethought models of classical science involve thedissociation of the observer from the observed– the notion of the neutral observer seekingknowledge of the truth that is “out there”.However, this search for knowledge of thefacts of the outer world is, according toclassical science, endless, since the methods ofcollecting information can never beexhaustive. Measurements can always bemade more accurate, more samples could betaken, more tests run, new variables takeninto account. We may get closer and closer tothe absolute truth, but we can never reach it.Knowledge of the world can never measure up

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Artikkeli julkaisusta: Zetti, Iacopo & Brand, Shira (toim.) 2005: Rehabilitation of Suburban Areas - Brozzi and Le Piagge Neighbourhoods. Diploma Workshop in Florence - 2004/05. Department of Technology of Architecture and Design "P.L. Spadolini", University of Florence, ss. 23-38

2 Approaches to Participation in Urban Planning Theories

with the information concealed in the worlditself; it has to be a reduction. But the searchfor absolute knowledge was nevertheless thegoal of classical science: morecomprehensiveness in observation,experimentation and calculation meant betterscience. Similarly, the theorists of rational-comprehensive planning thought that themore comprehensive the analyses of theplanning problem were, the better the planwould be. The planner-analyst regardedhimself as the neutral observer of the urbanlife and its various problems. Throughanalyses formulated and undertaken by theplanners themselves valid knowledge of theurban problems “out there” would be gained.But this knowledge would always beinsufficient; the ‘scientific’ planner-analyst wasnever free of the principal requirement ofmaking his analyses more profound andcomprehensive.

The promise of thoroughness of analysiswould be long term predictability. In classicalscience, more knowledge meant betterpredictability. This was highlighted in thedevelopment of astronomy in the 19th century.The longer the chain of differential calculi tocount the orbits of the planets of the solarsystem, the better were the estimations of thefuture movements of the planets. Theworldview of classical science is oftendescribed with the notion of ‘clockwork’: theworld is seen as a complicated clockwork withan infinite collection of wheels, screws andsprings, and their mutual interactions – and assuch it is seen, although complicated, still as

predictable as a clock. The unpredictability isonly due to the fact that you may never gaincomplete information of its mechanism. Thelesson drawn in rational-comprehensive urbanplanning was that through profound analysesyou may predict the long term development oftowns and cities, and hence make long-termmaster plans with great accuracy to steer thisdevelopment.

In accordance to classical science thefocus in planning analysis was on quantifiablefactors, such as changes in population and agegroup rates, the amount of traffic in roads, thesizes and distances of public services inrelation to their user base, technical capacitiesof infrastructure systems, the disposition ofapartment blocks in relation to the direction ofsunlight (and wind), etc. The factors wereanalysed separately: like the clockwork theurban communities were seen as mechanismsof different elements in interaction. TheAthens Conference of CIAM in 1933 hadidentified these “functions” of the city as‘housing’, ‘industry’, ‘greenery’ and ‘traffic’. Theareas of polluting industry were to beseparated from the housing areas by thegreen belts, and the traffic arteries were toconnect these areas to each other.

Auguste Comte can not only be regardedas the father of sociology, but also as thefather of (social) planning (Friedmann 1987).Indeed, by defining the ultimate aim of thescience of sociology as a science in service ofsocial and societal progress, he takes thenormative role of a scientific planner. He is not

content with the position of a “mere” scientist,who is satisfied with explaining and predictingthe phenomena of the world, but he assertsthat a scientist of sociology should use thesecapacities of explanation and prediction to aidmankind and, ultimately, to create a superiorstate of civilization. Descriptive sciencebecomes a tool of normative planning instriving for a better society.

This approach is evident in the notion of‘public interest’, formulated as the goal ofrational-comprehensive planning. Publicinterest meant planning solutions that were ofcommon benefit. By means of scientificanalysis the parameters of such solutions wereto be defined: wide roads without traffic jams,

In comprehensive-rationalist planning the ‘public interest’as the goal of planning is defined within the context ofplanning expertise


equal access to services and green areas, cleanair, sunlight and technical facilities for everydweller, etc. By the use of a scientific methodthe common good was to be defined. Therewas no room for participation here. On thecontrary, it would have been seen to distortthe objectivity of planning analysis and thusjeopardize the realization of the public interestwith subjective motivations. The business ofdefining the ends and means in planning wasbest left to the profession of planners (seeBanfield 1973), who, in their reliance to thescientific method, thought they knew betterwhat is good for the citizens. Using JohnForester’s terms, the role of the urban plannerwas “Facts and rules”: “Rely only on facts thathave a scientific basis and on the authorityand duties designated to your public officeposition”. Many a planner still takes on thisrole. (Forester 1987.)

Advocacy planning theory

Paul Davidoff was among the early criticsof the allegedly uncontroversial nature of thepublic interest. In his classic article “Advocacyand Pluralism in Planning” Davidoff claimsthat “[d]eterminations of what serves thepublic interest, in a society containing manydiverse interest groups, are almost always of ahighly contentious nature” (Davidoff 1973,279). In a pluralist society there cannot be anyobjective values, scientifically or otherwisederived. It is easy to agree with Davidoff’s

criticism, if we look closer at the method ofdefining the ‘public interest’. The ability ofgrasping the quantifiable factors only leads toa view of man as an atomistic average person,or, in Herbert Marcuse’s terms a “onedimensional man” (Marcuse 1964) without a

memory of historically, socially and personallymeaningful events and places and withoutspecific cultural habits, social patterns andemotional and aesthetic motivations to guidehis actions. People as objects ofcomprehensive-rationalist planning become

The suburb of Le Piagge in Florence is exemplary of the urban planning principles of comprehensive-rationalist planning:open grid; the location of apartment buildings in north-south direction to maximize sunlight; large scale development within ashort period with neglect of the existing urban fabric; functional, socio-economic (council housing) and aesthetic monotonywith problems of segregation, security and alienation. (Photo: Raine Mäntysalo)


samples of age groups, mechanisms of bodilyoperations, conglomerates of physiologicalneeds, customers of services, car users,bicyclists, pedestrians and users of publictransportation, house owners and tenants, etc.In the words of one of the main Finnish criticsof functionalism, Kirmo Mikkola, it leads to the“dissection of life” (Mikkola 1978): work,sleep, leisure, shopping, travel etc. allfunctionally separated to their own designatedareas and rooms. As early as 1960, JaneJacobs, in her famous book “Death and Life ofGreat American Cities”, called for the richness ofurban activity instead of dividing the city intosingle-function zones. This critique wasfollowed by Christopher Alexander, who in his1965 article “A City is not a Tree”demonstrated how modern planning, both thefunctionalist branch following Tony Garnierand CIAM, and the garden city branchfollowing Howard, produced hierarchical citystructures describable as “trees”, whereas thestructures of naturally grown, historical citieshave a “semi-lattice” structure, according toAlexander (1966). This means a city structure,where functions are not separated but partlyoverlapping, and where different areas arerichly connected to each other instead ofsimple hierarchical ordering. (See Taylor1998, 97-98.)

Among other key critics of the 1960swere Robert Venturi, who attacked thesimplicity and purity of modern architectureand called for “complexity and contradiction inarchitecture” instead (Venturi 1966), andChristian Norberg-Schulz, who, starting from

his doctoral thesis “Intentions in Architecture”(1966), draw attention to the “sense of place”(genius loci) as fundamental to man’s “being-in-the-world”, based on his reading of MartinHeidegger’s existentialist philosophy. All thesecriticisms were echoed in the 1960s and1970s by the establishment of neighbourhoodassociations, ad hoc protest associations andlocal history societies, which often wereestablished to protect the citizens’environmental interests that were neglected inpublic planning. The ‘public interest’ of urbanplanning had produced unsatisfying results:anonymity, aesthetic and social dullness,problems of segregation and lack of necessaryservices were felt in the newly built suburbs,whereas in the city centres meaningfulhistorical buildings and places weredemolished to make way for newdevelopment that was inattentive to theexisting cityscape and patterns of urban life.

It is evident from this criticism that theexisting view of planning as neutral and value-free was false and that the ‘public interest’ inobjective terms could not be defined. The‘scientific method’ itself proposes a highlycontroversial value system of its own when itcomes to defining the goals of urbanplanning. If so, Davidoff claimed that theplanner should make clear what are the valuesunderlying his choices, and indeed he shoulddo more: “he should affirm them; he shouldbe an advocate of what he deems proper”(Davidoff 1973, 279). Davidoff argued thatpublic sector planning needed genuinealternatives based on different value

considerations. Thus he sought to reveal thedeeply political character of planning, hiddenunder the scientific appearance ofcomprehensive rationality. The planners wereto aid in this, by engaging in the politicalprocess of planning as advocates both of thelocal government and other local interestgroups, such as the above mentioned, that areconcerned with the future development of thecommunity. According to Davidoff, by takingthe role as an advocate, analogous to the legaladvisors in courts, the planner aids democracyin public planning not only by permitting thecitizen to be heard: “It also means that he beable to become well informed about theunderlying reasons for planning proposals,and be able to respond to them in thetechnical language of professional planners”(ibid., 280). The planners would thus seekemployment, besides the local government,from the groups in opposition to the localgovernment’s policies, by offering their help inpreparing alternative plans that wouldchallenge the official plan. “Where pluralplanning is practiced, advocacy becomes themeans of professional support for competingclaims about how the community shoulddevelop” (ibid., 282).

Davidoff’s model of advocacy planningwas perhaps better suited to the context of theUSA, where local governments have lessautonomy and authority in the face of privatesector interests (especially business) than inmost European countries. However, forexample in Finland local resident associationshave been shown to take action similar to


Davidoff’s model. The key actors in localresident associations are often architects orplanners living in the area, who offer theirknowledge, contacts and skills in furtheringthe association’s interests in the publicplanning process concerning the area.(Staffans 2004.)

As Davidoff himself acknowledges,advocacy planning implies an adversaryproceeding between two or more contendingviewpoints, similarly to legal proceedings(Davidoff 1973, 282). Advocacy planning ismotivated by the empowerment ofmarginalized groups, but hereby the view ofplanning as an oppositional power struggle isalso heightened. The promise of pluralisticplanning with alternative planning approachesand proposals is easily turned intounproductive adversary politics.

On the other hand, the translation of thecitizens’ interests to the language of planningis not unproblematic. The planner, who worksas the group’s advocate, attempts to give thegroup’s needs more weight and credibility bytransforming them into the language ofexpertise. According to Schön, there are twodifficulties in such measures: ”First, there isthe difficulty of combining [the group’s]adversarial stance toward the professionalwith a wish to benefit from his specialknowledge. And second, there is the sense inwhich a professional advocate or citizen-professional still takes a professional stance,claiming special knowledge and autonomywhich he may abuse in his relations with hisclients.” (Schön 1983, 295.) In this case,expertise is intended to be used in the serviceof political empowerment of the weak citizengroup, but, paradoxically, the use of expertisebecomes the empowerment of expertise itself

(Mäntysalo 2000, 213). As a language thelanguage of planning expertise is not just aneutral grammar, but a value system thatcarries meanings of its own within itscommunication apparatus. Therefore noadvocate planner can truly offer his expertiseas a mere vehicle of bringing special interestsinto the agenda of public planning. He bringsthem as transformed to the language ofplanning, and in a very profound sense hethereby furthers the basic interests of planningexpertise itself and serves to turn the contextof planning into a battle ground betweenalternative forms of planning expertise.

Incrementalist planning theory

The same year Paul Davidoff publishedhis famous article, another American theoriston public administration, Charles E. Lindblom,published his book “The Intelligence ofDemocracy” (1965). In his book, Lindblompresented his theory of “partisan mutualadjustment” as a model of decision-making inpublic planning. Similarly to Davidoff,Lindblom sought to bring pluralism to therealm of public planning. But Lindblom’stheory can be seen as more advanced in thesense that he was not only concerned withhow to bring the interests of different groupsinto the agenda of public planning, but,furthermore, how agreement could be reachedbetween these diverse and conflictinginterests. His answer was “partisan mutualAdvocacy planning as an adversarial relation between the contexts of planning expertise and counter-expertise, the first

representing the public planning agency and the latter a given interest group


adjustment” – a method of bargaining andcompromise-seeking between the interestgroups concerned with a planning issue.

The theory of partisan mutual adjustmentis based on Lindblom’s broader theoreticalinitiative known as incrementalism, which heset forth already in 1959, in his classic article“The Science of Muddling Through”. Thetarget of Lindblom’s critique in this article wascomprehensive-rationalist planning, which hecalled “synoptic planning”. Drawing on HerbertA. Simon’s theory of bounded rationality(1979, orig. 1945), Lindblom claimed that thepublic sector planners do not have the timenor the material resources needed to engagein comprehensive analyses of the planningproblem at hand. Necessarily they have todevelop their plans based on partialknowledge and uncertainty of the futureconsequences of their realization. Lindblom’saim was to develop a realistic planning theory,as the ideal of comprehensive rationality wasunfruitful as a guide of practical planningwork. This has been evidenced in thenumerous cases, where the master plan hasbecome outdated already before itsratification, due to the heavy preparationprocess with surveys and reports no one hashad the time to read.

Lindblom’s advice to planners on how tomanage with the lack of information wasthree-fold: Firstly, concentrate only on short-term planning. The longer the time scale, thegreater the uncertainty. Secondly, rely only onthe existing planning policy and experiences

gained from former similar planning tasks, sothat you direct your limited resources ofanalysis in the current planning task to theunique features, of which there is no priorexperience and no ready solutions or coursesof action available. Thereby a new short termplan would provide a new increment withmarginal changes to the existing planningpolicy – and, as such, a new increment in thestore of planning experiences on which todraw on in future incremental planning tasks.

Thirdly, broaden the knowledge base ofplanning by introducing various interestgroups to the planning process. According toLindblom, the ’bounded’ analyses of plannerscannot be given a value-free status. Suchknowledge is based on partial information,and it necessarily prioritizes certain valueconsiderations over others. Pluralistic politicsbetween various interest groups is thereforeneeded to fill the knowledge gaps that stillremain after the public manager’s analysis andto bring alternative values to the agenda.Lindblom conceives of the political process asa game where each interest group acts as a”watchdog” for its values. Each decision-makeris allowed to concentrate on a deliberatelynarrow problem definition – especially onquestions that are important for the interestgroup one represents – because completeknowledge is beyond one’s reach anyway.Participation by many decision-makers istherefore needed to guarantee that theessential interests are given adequateattention. (Lindblom 1965, 146, 151, 156.) Asthe values are conflicting and not all needs can

be satisfied, the interest groups are assumedto be mutually antagonistic. It is left to theprocess of groups negotiating, bargaining andcompeting in the political arena to reachdecisions between conflicting demands. Anideal solution, according to Lindblom, wouldbe a Pareto optimum1 : a solution which is tothe advantage of as many as possible and aloss to none (Lindblom 1965, 210). Lindblomassumes that it would be easier to reachconsensus and compromise on decisions thatare ”small”. A minority group may agree to beoverruled, if it is promised a compensation inthe next decision-making process addressingthe next small increment (Lindblom 1965,268-69).

In the 1970s Lindblom’s ideas ofincrementalist planning were welcomedamong urban planners, as the failures of thelong-term master plans of the 1960s becameevident, concerning over-optimistic growthestimations and socio-economic problems oflarge scale development. On the other hand,by the mid-1970s the modernization andindustrialization of the cities had beencompleted, more or less, the flow of migrantsfrom the countryside had dried, and the oilcrisis had stagnated the economy. In thoseconditions there was less need for large-scaleand long-term planning. The new slower paceof growth and development could be plannedby adding small increments to the existinginfrastructure. Lindblom’s theory ofincrementalism suited perfectly to this newsituation.


However, the political side of Lindblom’sincrementalism, his theory of partisan mutualadjustment, met severe criticism later,especially among the so-called communicativeplanning theorists, who developed their viewsin the late 1980s and early 1990s. Amongthese was the Norwegian Tore Sager, whoaccused partisan mutual adjustment ofpresenting too narrow a conception of

planning communication. According to Sager,it provides a method of settling disputeswithout having to attempt at dialogue. Inpartisan mutual adjustment, mutualagreement on planning decisions is notnecessary; instead, the method guaranteesthat decisions are made despite the lack ofagreement. It therefore encourages bargainingand compromising between interests. Still, it

does not guarantee a fair fight between them.(Sager 1994, 7,14, 20, 73.) Sager’s descriptionof such a process is ”collective opportunism”(Sager 1994, 180; see also Forester 1993,87).

The possible narrowness of politicalcommunication is not the only criticizableissue in the politics of incrementalism. It alsocarries an inherent tendency towardscorporatism. Access to the decision-makingprocess is not evenly distributed between theinterested “partisans”, and the process opensup more readily to those who are organizedand influential. Incrementalism is, bydefinition, conservative. It builds on theexisting policy by adding only smallincrements onto it and by making smallchanges ”at the margin”. This means that italso builds on the existing power relations.Therefore, incremental decisions tend tomirror the values of those already in power,the status quo. (Etzioni 1967, 387; Cates1979, 528; Sager 1994, 160; Möttönen 1997,178.) In Lindblom’s theory, the partisans arepowerfully motivated by self-interest and alsorecognize this self-interest in each other.Therefore, according to Lindblom, they try tosearch for everyone’s advantage or for no-one’s disadvantage (Lindblom 1965, 210) –”everyone” meaning those who are includedas partisans. Mutual focus on self-interestamong the “insiders” means also no interest inbringing in new partisans to the decision-making process.

Lindblom is not concerned with thePartisan mutual adjustment as a game-setting of multiple self-regarded interest groups seeking a Pareto Optimum betweentheir interests


quality of the decisions made; he worries onlyabout how publicly managed organizationscan be aided to reach any decisions in apluralistic society (see Sager 1994, 16).Partisan mutual adjustment is a decision-making technique that by itself is unable toadd qualitatively new viewpoints to theplanning process. Rather the opposite seemsto be the case. It is an adversary processbetween interest groups and their competingvalues, where agreement is sought throughcompromise. Instead of trying to create newapproaches to problems and value-combiningsolutions, on which to build consensus, eachgroup is expected to give up something.Camille Cates calls this a ”lose-lose game”.(Cates 1979, 528.)

Lindblom’s partisans do not bother to findout each other’s motives and reasonings, butonly seek agreement on the disputed matter.But this agreement is not based on mutualunderstanding; it is merely a trivial deal in thegive-and-take of values. Like bargainers, thepartisans do not ask why their counterpart isready to strike a bargain when mutualagreement is found. (Lindblom 1965, 207-08.) The approach is essentially economic:why someone ”buys a political commodity” ishardly more relevant than why someone buysan economic commodity in the market. Whatmatters is what one can profit from thetransaction. In Lindblom’s theory, politics istreated as the continuation of market relationsby other means. Political behaviour is likemarket behaviour, making with a similar logicthe allocative choices which are removed from

the market. Politics comes close to a rationalconstruct where ”utilities” are exchanged atthe margin. The closer the game of politicalwins and losses comes to economic games,the more technical and calculable by ”politicaleconomists” it becomes (see Hillier 2002,245). Presumably, the ”political utilities” canbe calculated in advance by expert forecasters– before elections, for example. (Friedmann1987, 331-32.) If so, John Friedmann asks:

”[W]hy not dispense altogether with a politicsthat is unpredictable and expensive, and sub-stitute for it an expert judgment of the bal-ance of individual utilities at the margin? Los-ers would be compensated according to thecriterion of the Pareto optimum; winnerswould get whatever they wanted. And so weare [...] at the paradoxical position [...]: a stateunconstrained by politics and in the hands ofthose for whom technical reason is infinitely su-perior to the passions of political life.” (Ibid.,332.)

Communicative planningtheory: planning as consensus-seeking

In relation to this criticism, John Forestermakes a crucial distinction between twodimensions of planning problems. The firstdimension, with which Lindblom wasconcerned, is uncertainty: the lack ofinformation of the planned object in itspresent and some future state, and the lack oftime and resources for the rational

programming of planning work. This is thetechnical dimension of planning. But there isalso the political dimension that concerns thelegitimacy of the ends and means of planning.Problems of legitimacy in planning have to dowith ambiguity, according to Forester. Facinguncertainty, the planner is in need for moreinformation; facing ambiguity, he is in need ofpractical judgment. Uncertainty ischaracteristic of problems that emerge inprofessional inquiry. There is a lack ofadequate information: ”What will happen ”outthere”?; Will a strategy work?” In the politicalconflict between values and interests one isoften forced to consider one’s relationship tothe others ”in here”. Whereas uncertaintyconcerns questions about the contentproduced by the incrementalist orcomprehensive-rationalist planning method,ambiguity has to do with questions about thecontext of the planning method itself.Legitimacy is at stake: How to justify theproposed choices?; ”What to use as thestandard of what works?” (Forester 1993, 9,88-90; see also Sotarauta 1996, 129.)

”That an event will take place may be uncer-tain but not ambiguous; a pun is ambiguousbut not uncertain. Questions of purpose andintent, or ethical and political choice, of obli-gation and responsibility, of the proper inter-pretation of meaning – these are issues ofambiguity; we look not for certainty but forjustification [...] Questions of scientific andtechnical results, of systems performance orthe prediction of consequences – these areprimarily issues of certainty and uncertainty;we look for evidence, not for interpretations ofprecedent.” (Forester 1993, 89.)


Uncertainty and ambiguity call fordifferent kinds of practical responses.According to Forester, it is necessary that theplanner distinguishes between these two typesof planning problems from each other.

”[I]n administrative and planning contexts,questions of ambiguity (what do they reallywant?) are likely to be reduced to those ofuncertainty (shall we devise a questionnaireto see what they really do want?). The result-ing call for more information (and perhapsmore information-processing equipment) maythen only further obscure the political and so-cial judgments that must inevitably be made. Ifthis argument is half-right, then the reductionof ambiguity to uncertainty may have subtleand perverse depoliticizing effects.” (Ibid., 9.)

By mistaking normative and ethicalproblems for matters of assumed scientificcontrol and uncertainty, the planners narrowdown the opportunities for political judgment(ibid., 89).

Advocacy planning and partisan mutualadjustment are both inadequate in dealingwith problems of ambiguity. In fact, both ofthem address the politics of planning throughthe dimension of uncertainty. Both reducepolitical pluralism into the coexistence of themutually adversary interest groups thataddress each other strategically. Here thebehaviour of the counterpart is approached asa source of uncertainty and as a problem ofcontrol. As noted above, politics becomestechnicized into power games and “gooddeals” between political utilities. However,

problems of legitimacy in planning require adifferent kind of politics.

A framework for such politics has beenoffered by the German philosopher and socialtheorist Jürgen Habermas, whose “Theory ofcommunicative action” (1984 and 1987, orig.1981) forms the cornerstone ofcommunicative planning theory. Parallel to thedistinction made above between the technical(uncertainty) and political (ambiguity)dimensions of planning is Habermas’s divisionof society into system and lifeworld.

Lifeworld is the domain of undominatedcommunication where mutual understandingis sought. It is the realm of cultural productionand reproduction of use values. WhatHabermas understands as the ”system” are themedia of power and money. These media arethe ”subsystems” of lifeworld that haveemerged from the lifeworld and have startedto dominate it. “The rationalization of thelifeworld makes possible the emergence andgrowth of subsystems whose independentimperatives turn back destructively upon thelifeworld itself” (Habermas 1987, 186). Moneyand power exert ”strategic action” – action thatis oriented instrumentally towards self-regarded success instead of being orientedtowards mutual understanding. Habermassees mutual understanding as the basicfunction of language. But mutual consensus isno longer decisive in the formal administrativeand economic organizations of our moderncapitalistic society that rely on thecoordinating mechanisms of power and

money. According to Habermas, the media ofpower and money are ”delinguistified” (ibid.,154), because they coordinate actions withoutattempting at mutual understanding. Inlifeworldly social action consensus is thecoordinating medium, but in the worldcontrolled by the subsystems this consensus isreplaced by coordination of actions achievedby producing symbolic generalizations ofpositive and negative sanctions. (Ibid., 281,310-11.) The media of power and moneyencode purposive-rational dealings, havingcalculable value, and make it possible to exertgeneralized strategic influence on thedecisions of other participants withoutbecoming vulnerable to the risks of linguisticcommunication (ibid., 277-81). But thesesteering media fail to operate in the lifeworldlydomains of cultural reproduction, socialintegration and socialization that constitute thelinguistic and cultural basis of our society(ibid., 267, 322). Having abstracted theproducts of these domains, power and moneycontinuously distort communicative action inthe lifeworld (ibid., 187, 322). Thesesubsystems attempt to ”colonize” the lifeworldby their processes of bureaucratization andcommodification, but they are dependent onindividual skills and motivations and on massloyalty – i.e. the accomplishments of thesymbolic reproduction of the lifeworld.

Following Habermas, it can be arguedthat the media of power and money are deci-sive in planning communication according toboth advocacy and incrementalist planning.The problems of ambiguity would, however,


require lifeworldly communication, which isoriented towards mutual understandinginstead of self-regarded success. Habermashas outlined the criteria and conditions oflifeworldly communication and for thispurpose he has developed the concept ofcommunicative rationality. Communicativerationality is an ideal, analogous in its idealcharacter to comprehensive rationality. As theknowledge available of the planning problemcan never be perfect to reach comprehensiverationality, the conditions of planningcommunication can never be perfect either toreach communicative rationality.Communicative rationality would require an“ideal speech situation” characterized by theabsence of communication utilizing power andeconomic relations (position in the publicbureaucracy, legal authority, economicincentives and contracts etc.). The form ofpower that rules in communicative rationalityis the “power of the better argument”: whatmatters is the content of the argument itself,not the formal authority or economicresources of the one who makes theargument. Habermas believes that despite ourdiverse and often conflicting interests we stillhave a shared lifeworld – a mutual socio-cultural horizon of basic beliefs, norms andbehavioural codes upon which we can baseour arguments, evaluate them and findconsensus. According to Habermas, there arethree lifeworldly criteria upon which weshould base our arguments and test them,when attempting at communicative rationality.These criteria are: propositional truth,normative rightness, and subjective

truthfulness. (Habermas 1984, 75.) The claimsmade in planning communication should thusbe based on information that is commonlyheld as valid, they should involve social andecological implications that are commonlyviewed as ethically justifiable and they shouldbe made with sincerity, without manipulationand hidden agendas by the speaker.

Thus, following Habermas, legitimateplanning communication should aim at mutualunderstanding between the participants,instead of shallow bargaining and power playsbetween the self-regarded interest groups.Mutual understanding becomes achievable,once the representatives of the interest groupsare ready to withdraw form power- andmoney-mediated communication and relativestrategic action, and begin a search for acommon foundation of basic understandingsand values upon which to build, via mutualargumentation, consensual planning decisions.

However, also Habermasian planningtheory has met some severe criticism recently,especially by the so-called Foucauldianplanning theorists, who follow the poweranalytics of the French philosopher MichelFoucault (see McGuirk 2001; Hillier 2000;Hillier 2002; Flyvbjerg 1998). The differencesin the approach to power are central in thecontroversy between the two camps –although there are also those who seek tobridge the Habermasian and Foucauldianviews with a reformulated planning theory(see Hillier 2002, 18-19; Häkli 2002).According to the Foucauldian view, power

cannot be seen as an “outer distortion” to thelifeworld – as a historically emergedphenomenon adjacent to lifeworld itself.Foucault, too, thinks similarly to Habermasthat power is embedded in the mechanisms ofbureaucratization and commodification of thesociety, but for Foucault the effects of thesemechanisms are much deeper. In Foucault’sthought, power reaches the lifeworld, too2 . Itconstrues the social and cultural conditionsunder which people build up their self-conceptions and societal roles. As such, powerreceives a “bodily” character – or, in Bourdieu’sterms, it becomes a constituent of one’s“habitus” (see Bourdieu 1987; Bourdieu &Wacquant 1995). Instead of an outerdistortion to the individuals’ communication,power is thus seen as a constructive force,

Communicative planning as consensus-seeking throughcommunicatively rational argumentation between thedifferent interest groups. At the outset the contextualrelations between the claims of the different interest groupsare ambiguous


which shapes the individuals’ understandingsand perceptions. Not even in principle would itbe possible to detach oneself from such powerby merely avoiding claims that utilize one’spolitical-administrative or economic positionand relations. (Hillier 2002, 160.) Hence theidea of speech situations with the totalabsence of power would not be ideal, butactually foreign to human conduct. (Mäntysalo& Rajaniemi 2003, 127.)

Approaching the Habermasian idea ofplanning as communicatively rational actionfrom the Foucauldian point of view, we mayindeed ask, are there constitutive poweraspects inherent in such planning to which theHabermasian planning theorists themselvesare blind? There are inequalities betweenpeople and interests concealed already in thedefinition of communicative rationality. Theeconomic and political interests are deemedinferior to the cultural and social already at theoutset, as the former are seen to belong to therealm of the “system” and the latter to therealm of the “lifeworld”. The emphasis onargumentation favours those with goodargumentative skills. (Mäntysalo & Rajaniemi2003, 127.) It also overlooks those views andinterests which are difficult to express asreasoned arguments. Especially aestheticconsiderations on the urban environment aredifficult to validate by means of argumentation(Mattila 2003). Communicative rationality is asort of straitjacket, where each individual isgiven a universal identity as a rational andmoral creature that shares his deep lifeworldlyconceptions with the others, and who, with

this identity, is given the task of searching forconsensus with the others – a consensuswhich, by definition, is always reachable.(Hillier 2002, 159.) The Habermasian viewforces us to be argumentative and look forconsensus in all conditions. The Habermasianplanning activity would thus subdue thosewho would rather delegate planning decisionsto elected local politicians, those who haveless argumentative skills and those who wouldquestion the possibility of reaching consensusbetween the conflicting views as a principle(Tewdwr-Jones & Allmendinger 1998). Sincefor Habermas the cultural and the social areincluded in the ”power-free” lifeworld, hedisregards the social and cultural forms ofpower that determine communicativerelationships, according to Hillier (2002, 60).Hillier hereby demonstrates Habermas’sparadox: if the means of communicativeaction is communication, how can wecommunicate critically of communicativeaction itself? (ibid., 34).

Communicative planningtheory: planning asmanagement of conflicts

The possibility of communicativerationality is based on the assertion that ashared context of lifeworldly values andunderstandings is achievable as soon as eachparticipant withdraws from the use of power.There is a good case for a counterargument

that in the present world we lead our lives in asociety too differentiated into subcultures thata shared lifeworld is no longer readily (if atall) available (Tewdwr-Jones & Allmendinger1998, 1979; McGuirk 2001, 213-14; Lapintie1999, 9-11; Hillier 2000, 50-52). If that werethe case, it would not be possible, even inprinciple, to plan in the fashion ofcommunicative rationality before theparticipants have mutually created suchcircumstances, where the differingunderstandings and goals can be bridged.Habermas’s communicative rationality is basedon making and testing claims in reference to agiven moral-practical horizon of sharedunderstandings. But the key problem inmulticultural and pluralistic planning situationsis how such a mutual horizon could be found(see Rittel and Webber 1973). The problemsof ambiguity in planning actually exceed therange of possibilities offered bycommunicative rationality. In its deepestsense, planning is the shaping of sharedworlds – and, accordingly, the formulation ofshared rationalities (Mäntysalo 2002, 423).Habermas’s theory does not address thiscrucial aspect of planning, but starts from asituation where we already have a sharedworld and a shared yardstick of rationality(Mäntysalo 2000, 103). Habermas’scommunicatively rational dialogue is notgenuine dialogue because, as Karatani pointsout, the participants already have sharedrules. For Karatani, shared rules are theoutcome of dialogue, not its point ofdeparture. (Karatani 1995, 153.)


Habermas’s concept of dialogue is thustoo narrow. The central aspect of creativity ismissing. In Habermasian dialogue thelifeworld exists as a stable horizon, inreference to which societal ends are rationallyderived in an undominated argumentationprocess. The concept does not reach thechanging of the lifeworld. Neithercommunicative rationality, nor instrumentalrationality can be used to explain howlifeworld changes and evolves. (Mäntysalo2002, 424.) As Forester comments: Habermasdefines explicitly the processes of lifeworldreproduction, but ”[h]e does little, though,sociologically, to assess how these processeswork, how worldviews, allegiances, identitiesare elaborated, routinized, established, oraltered” (Forester 1993, 126). According toForester, ”that is the central issue to beaddressed in any concrete analysis of politicalstruggle, policy debate, political conflict, orsocial movement – and this explains part ofthe difficulty, to this date, of applyingHabermas’s work directly and concretely topolitical conflicts” (ibid.).

Forester himself has addressed this issuewith his concept ‘designing as making sensetogether’. With the concept he refers to thenotion of designing as a shared interpretivesense-making process between participantsengaged in practical conversation in theirinstitutional and historical settings. (Forester1989, 119-33.)

”When form-giving is understood more as anactivity of making sense together, it can be situ-

ated in a world where social meaning is a per-petual practical accomplishment. Designingtakes place in institutional settings where ra-tionality is precarious at best, conflict abounds,and relations of power shape what is feasible,desirable, and at times even imaginable. Byrecognizing design practices as conversationalprocesses of making sense together, designerscan become alert to the social dimensions ofdesign processes, including organizational, in-stitutional, and political-economic influencesthat they will face – necessarily, if also unhap-pily at times – in everyday practice.” (Ibid.,120–21.)

‘Designing as making sense together’acknowledges the world-making nature ofdesign, where the participants create newmeanings together, regarding ends as well asmeans (ibid., 126-28). According to Forester,such design work is both instrumentallyproductive and socially reproductive (ibid.129-32).

The planner’s role of shaping attentionand opening up planning agendas is crucial inthis collective sense-making process. AsForester observes:

”For instance, planners shape not only docu-ments but also participation: who is con-tacted, who participates in informal design-review meetings, who persuades whom bywhich options for project development. Plan-ners do so not only by shaping which factscertain citizens may have, but also by shapingthe trust and expectations of those citizens.Planners organize cooperation, or acquies-cence, in addition to data and sketches. Theyare often not authoritative problem-solvers, asstereotypical engineers may be, but, instead,they are organizers (or disorganizers) of public

attention: selectively shaping attention to op-tions for action, particular costs and benefits,or particular arguments for and against propos-als. A key source of the planner’s power to ex-ert such influence is the control of information.”(Ibid., 28, my emphasis).

The planner cannot escape his powerover planning information. Through hisprofessional education and experience he hasinternalized the conceptual sphere of planningand he handles best the techniques ofproducing and representing planninginformation among the participants (Thomas& Healey et.al. 1991, 189). But the keyquestion is how the planner chooses to usethis power. As Forester has shown, it can beused disruptively in the Habermasian sense bymeans of manipulation, secrecy, fallacies andincomprehensibilities (Forester 1989, 27-47) –but it can also be used constructively in theFoucauldian sense through questioning,clarification of value choices, sketching outnew opportunities, encouragement ofdialogue, “translation” of planning documentsinto “everyday language” etc.

To Forester’s concept ‘designing asmaking sense together’, Healey makes anaddition: ”while living differently” (Healey1992, 148). It reveals Healey’s doubtfulattitude towards hopes of achieving trulyshared understanding in multiculturalcommunicative planning. Participants mayshare a concern, but arrive at it throughdifferent cultural, societal and personalexperiences. They belong to different“systems” of meaning that will remain nearer


or farther from each other in relation to accessto each other’s languages. Planningcommunication should thus focus on reachingan achievable level of mutual understandingfor the purposes at hand, while retainingawareness of that which is not understood(ibid., 154).

”Through such processes of argumentation wemay come to agree, or accept a process ofagreeing, on what should be done, withoutnecessarily arriving at a unified view of ourrespective lifeworlds. The critical criteria builtinto such a process of argument encouragesopenness and ‘transparency’, but without sim-plification. If collective concerns are ambiva-lent and ambiguous, such a communicativeprocess should allow acknowledgement thatthis is so, perhaps unavoidably so. So the di-lemmas and creative potentials of ambiguityenrich the inter-discursive effort, rather thanbeing washed out in the attempt to constructa one-dimensional language.” (Ibid., 156.)

A planning decision which serveseveryone’s interests, or is generally acceptedas a good decision, may indeed be hard, oreven impossible, to find. As important as thecontent of the decisions themselves is thegeneral support behind the procedure ofseeking decisions (Hillier 2002, 71-75). AsLindblom observes, ”[w]e sometimes endorsethe use of a process for reaching a decisionwithout endorsing the resulting decision itself.On the other hand, for some choices we haveno basis of criticism or endorsement otherthan that the choice is a product of anaccepted process.” (Lindblom 1965, 240 – seealso Fisher & Ury 1983, 91-92.) It is importantthat, at the very beginning of the planning

process, shared acceptance is gainedconcerning the method of dealing withcontradictory interests that may remaincontradictory even after reasonable efforts toachieve consensus through dialogue. Insteadof handing the disputes over to courts, themethod itself should function as a ”court” forthe participants. (Healey 1995, 63.)

One may not agree upon the value of acertain decision, but may nevertheless acceptit – knowing that it has been reached inconditions of open communication, where thereasonings behind the arguments have beenrevealed, actors and their different interestsare acknowledged, and genuine efforts havebeen made to harmonize them (Mäntysalo2000, 367-68; Hillier 2002, 71-75). Beingable to gain some comprehension of one’sopponent’s claim, one is also able, to somedegree, to take his role. The aim is notnecessarily to reach a shared interpretation ofthe problematic situation, but to bring forththe contradictory attitudes and to acknowledgetheir right to exist (see Jyrkämä 1999, 148-49). If the actors are not able to extract ashared interest out of their conflictinginterests, they may still be able to weigh, in adispassionate fashion, what interests canjustifiably be allowed to override otherinterests in this planning situation: ”My perso-nal interests were not served, but we came toa fair decision.” (Mäntysalo 2000, 367-68.)

Urban planning as management ofconflicts is not merely an activity wherecontradictions in land-use planning may in

appropriate conditions get resolved, but alsoan activity where they are handled legitimatelywhen they cannot be resolved. It is both asearch for new action possibilities and asearch for legitimacy. (Ibid.)

The conception of urban planning asmanagement of conflicts is sceptical of thepossibility of far-reaching consensus betweenthe different meaning systems3 . Rather itbuilds upon the hypothesis that the basicgoals of different meaning systems will remaindifferent, even if mutually agreeable solutionswere produced from time to time in individualplanning tasks. This is how I interpret Healey’sremark ”Making sense together while livingdifferently”. Jean Hillier’s notion of con-sensusis also noteworthy. She “challenge[s] practicegoals of the Habermasian notion of consensusand suggest[s] that con-sensus, a ‘feeling orsensing together’, rather than agreement,might be more practically appropriate” (Hillier2002, 223). It is then not a lasting and deepconsensus that a dialogical process in aplanning task is to produce – but theconditions for the balanced coexistence ofmultiple meaning systems. These conditionsneed to be reproduced again and again fromone planning project to the next, since thediverging meaning systems never get mergedin a single dialogical planning project, but areonly situationally settled. (Mäntysalo 2000,367-68.)

Here, for the sake of clarity, we maymake a difference between the concepts‘interest’ and ‘meaning system’. ‘Interest’, as I


would like to define it in this context, is aconcrete goal, attitude or demand in a givenplanning situation (pro/against new ring road,shopping mall, pedestrian street, new housingblocks etc.). ‘Meaning system’, on the otherhand, is the basic set of values andunderstandings from which the interests, asstances and demands in actual moral-practicalplanning situations, are drawn. Through“making sense together” in a concrete task theinterests may converge, while the meaningsystems remain incompatible – “while livingdifferently”. This means a case-basedresolution between different interests drawnfrom different meaning systems.

If we adopt the relativist view thatdifferent meaning systems cannot be mergedinto a unified lifeworld shared by all, then weshould focus on the interests: how to resolvepractically and legitimately the conflictsbetween the interests in each planning case.This reminds us of the observation thatLindblom already did in his famous 1959article: “Agreement on objectives failing, thereis no standard of “correctness”. […T]he test [of“good” policy] is agreement on policy itself,which remains possible even when agreementon values is not.” (Lindblom 1959, 83.) But wedo not have to agree with Lindblom’s responseto his own observation: the method ofbargaining and compromising between self-regarded interests. However, total rejection ofLindblom’s model might be unwise, too. Hillierrefers to Gutmann & Thompson’s view thatbargaining is a legitimate way of resolvingpolitical conflicts that would otherwise remain

unresolved (Hillier 2002, 255). But she adds:“It should, however, be a strategy of lastrather than first resort, not a principle of leasteffort” (ibid.). Drawing from Gutmann &Thompson she concludes that the principles ofdeliberative democracy can be satisfied also inbargaining if its consequences can be shownto be mutually justifiable (ibid.). In Hillier’sview, the planners should accept the possibleunreachability of consensus and the pluralismof negotiation approaches and tactics (ibid.,269). Hence, by adding Lindblomianbargaining into the repertoire of participatoryplanning methods, we introduce a touch ofrealism to the communicative planning theoryburdened by the idealistic demands ofHabermas’s communicative rationality.

Even if we gave up Habermas’s late-modernist notion of the shared lifeworld andthus gave up the idea of a common ground injudging rationally the propositional truth,normative rightness, and subjectivetruthfulness of the claims made in planning,there would be no reason to give up thesearch for truth, moral consent and sincerityas principles of legitimate planning activity. Inmy view, these principles define theparameters of “good” planning activity also inthe conditions where means of rationaljudgment are missing and planning becomesmanagement of conflicts. These principlesenable the participants to establish conditionsfor “moral or deliberative disagreement” (see

Communicative planning as management of conflicts. Planning advances incrementally from one planning task to the next. Inthis process the different meaning systems do not converge, but yet capabilities to resolve legitimately the conflicts betweentheir outspoken interests are gradually built from one planning task to the next


Gutmann & Thompson in Hillier 2002, 254)where they can maintain mutual trust andrespect also in situations when they cannotagree. As Hillier notes, building mutualrespect does not necessarily mean buildingconsensus. But “[m]utual respect can helpdomesticate antagonism into agonism inwhich participants recognise the boundaries ofwhat is and is not possible” (Hillier 2002,289). With agonism Hillier refers to passionwhich “is mobilised constructively (rather thandestructively) towards the promotion ofdemocratic decisions which are partlyconsensual, but which also respectfully acceptunresolvable disagreements” (ibid., 253). Suchan agonistic democracy would enable thegeneration – not of a lasting consensus – butof a lasting planning culture of managingconflicts between different meaning systems.

Conclusion

No meaning system in urban planning isillegitimate as such. It is the way the systemseeks its goal in planning dialogues anddisputes that may be found illegitimate orlegitimate. Advocacy does not have to lead toadversarial relations. A legitimate way ofpromoting an interest involves theacknowledgement of the coexistence of otherinterests. (Mäntysalo 2000, 368.) Power isused in these debates constructively in theFoucauldian sense, but, contrary to theHabermasian thought, the way this power is

used may well be legitimate (see Hillier 2002,160). Legitimacy does not depend on our useof power per se but on the way we choose touse our power. Habermas’s principles ofcommunicative action are still valid inattempting at legitimate planningargumentation, although we cannot rely onthe assumption of transcendental criteria tojudge our arguments. In the most difficultconflict situations we may agree to resort toLindblomian bargaining.

In conclusion we find that in this mostrecent phase in the development of planningtheory – communicative planning as manage-ment of conflicts – many ideas and models ofparticipation developed through decades arebrought together. The Foucauldian poweranalytics misses the Habermasian discussionon the principles of legitimate conduct,whereas the Habermasian planning theorymisses the realism provided by theLindblomian incrementalism. The emergingtheory of communicative planning as manage-ment of conflicts seeks a new synthesisbetween these theoretical strands, so that newrealistic and context sensitive methods ofparticipatory planning could be developed,where power is used legitimately andconstructively.

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Notes

1 ”A state of affairs A represents a Pareto optimum for aset of people if it is impossible to identify another state ofaffairs B such that change from A to B would benefit atleast one person in the set and injure no one” (Lindblom1965, 194). See also Rapoport 1989, 152.2 According to Hillier, a parallel concept to lifeworld is‘genealogy’ in Foucault’s writing (Hillier 2002, 65).3 According to Lapintie, mutual understanding andcommon interest are transcendentals in urban planningand decision-making. Their inaccessibility is as essentialfor the city as is its polyphony and silent meanings. Thecity is the realm of unresolved conflicts. (Lapintie 1999,9-11.) Friedmann observes that, in planning, a ”problemgoes away not because it has been solved but becauseanother problem has replaced it” (Friedmann 1987, 218).As Rittel and Webber say: ”Social problems are neversolved. At best, they are only re-solved – over and overagain.” (Rittel & Webber 1973, 160.)

Documents

Approaches to Participation in Urban Planning Theories