Making Strategic Spatial Plans: Innovation In Europe Umea University, Sweden Alain Motte Universite Aix-Marseille, France Barrie Needham University of Nymegen, the Netherlands

Making Strategic Spatial Plans

Making Strategic Spatial Plans INNOVATION IN EUROPE

Edited by

Patsy Healey University of Newcastle upon Tyne Abdul Khakee University of Umea Alain Motte University of Aix-Marseille Barrie Needham University of Nijmegen

© Patsy Healey, Abdul Khakee, Alain Motte, Barrie Needham and contributors 1997 This book is copyright under the Berne Convention. No reproduction without permission. All rights reserved. First published in 1997 by UCL Press UCL Press Limited 1 Gunpowder Square London EC4A 3DE and 1900 Frost Road, Suite 101 Bristol Pennsylvania 19007–1598 USA This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2006. “To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s collection of thousands of eBooks please go to http://www.ebookstore.tandf.co.uk/.” The name of University College London (UCL) is a registered trade mark used by UCL Press with the consent of the owner. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data are available ISBN 0-203-45150-3 Master e-book ISBN

ISBN 0-203-45873-7 (Adobe eReader Format) ISBNs: 1-85728-663-4 (Print Edition) HB 1-85728-664-2 (Print Edition) PB Every effort has been made to contact copyright holders for their permission to reprint material in this book. The publishers would be grateful to hear from any copyright holder who is not here acknowledged and will undertake to rectify any errors or omissions in future editions of this book.

CONTENTS Acknowledgements

vii

List of contributors

ix

PART I 1 The revival of strategic spatial planning in Europe Patsy Healey 2 An institutionalist approach to spatial planning Patsy Healey

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PART II 3 A plan of hope and glory An example of development planning in Denmark after Maastricht Ib Jørgensen, Finn Kjærsdam, Jan Nielsen 4 Building strategic urban planning in France The Lyon urban area 1981–93 experiments Alain Motte 5 Images as institution builders Metropolitan planning in Madrid Michael Neuman 6 Building new institutions for strategic planning Transforming Lisbon into the Atlantic capital of Europe Lia T.Vasconcelos & Arminda C.Reis 7 Plan-making in the Zürich region Hellmut Ringli 8 Strategic development planning in western Norway Hordaland County and the City of Bergen Arild Holt-Jensen 9 Rhetoric and reality in British structure planning in Lancashire, 1993–5 Simin Davoudi, Patsy Healey, Angela Hull 10 A plan with a purpose The regional plan for the province of Friesland, 1994 Barrie Needham 11 Working in a democratic culture Structure planning in Marks Kommun Abdul Khakee

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57

75 92

111 129

146 164 181

12 Community to communication The Schema Strutturale per la provincia di Grosseto, 1990—designing strategies Alessandro Vignozzi

197

PART III 13 The institutional relations of plan-making Alain Motte 14 Agenda-setting in European spatial planning Abdul Khakee 15 Planning strategies and planning methods Barrie Needham 16 Strategic plan-making and building institutional capacity Patsy Healey, Abdul Khakee, Alain Motte, Barrie Needham Index

218 238 251 264

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS This book has been the product of a collaboration not only between the various authors whose work is in the book. It has also greatly benefited from the critical contributions of others who attended the workshops, and in particular, Andreas Faludi, Luigi Mazza, Alex Fubini, Pekka Virtanen, Hartmut Dieterich, Louis Albrechts, Tim Shaw and Dick Williams. We would also like to thank those who acted as hosts to our workshops at the University of Newcastle, the University of Nijmegen and the Catholic University of Leuven, and NIPOS (Nijmeegs Instituut von Planning en Ongeveingsstudies) and the Tyne and Wear Development Corporation for financial support. Our thanks to Bret Fleming for help with graphics, to Richard Newton for proof-reading the text, to Jill Connolly for helping with organizing the seminars and managing the to-and-from process as we edited the chapters. Thanks also to Susan Smith and Yasmin Ibrahim for efficient last-minute secretarial help. We have also appreciated the advice of Roger Jones, our publisher. Individual authors would also like to make specific acknowledgements. Michael Neuman thanks the Carfax Publishing Company for permission to reproduce Figures 5.1 and 5.2 from European Planning Studies 4(3), pp. 302 and 305. Lia Vasconcelos and Arminda Reis thank RISCO for supplying the urban fringe model figure used in Figure 6.4. (from Câmara Municipal de Lisboa (CML), 1993b).

CONTRIBUTORS Simin Davoudi has been researching in various aspects of planning systems and urban policy for many years. Her main interest is in policy processes in relation to strategic planmaking, environmental sustainability and urban regeneration. Her publications include: Rebuilding the city (co-editor; Spon, 1992), Managing cities (co-editor, John Wiley, 1995) and several journal articles and book chapters on development plans and urban regeneration. She is currently a lecturer in the Bartlett School of Planning, University College London, 22 Gordon Street, London, WC1H 0QB. Patsy Healey has been researching in planning theory and planning practice for many years. She is particularly interested in the relation between communicative approaches in planning theory, the political economy of urban region dynamics and the relation with the policy processes and substantive contents of spatial planning practices. She has published extensively on these issues, including Local plans in British land use planning (Pergamon 1983), Land use planning and the mediation of urban change (with McNamara, Elson and Doak; Cambridge University Press, 1988), Managing cities (with Cameron, Davoudi, Graham and Madani Pour as co-editors; John Wiley, 1995), Negotiating development (with Purdue and Ennis; Spon, London 1995), and Collaborative planning: shaping places in fragmented societies (Macmillan 1997). She is currently director of the Centre for Research in European Urban Environments at the University of Newcastle upon Tyne, Newcastle NE1 7RU. Arild Holt-Jensen received his MA in geography in 1963 on a regional study of the mountain commune Rauland in Telemark, which was further elaborated to a high mountain recreational plan. He received his doctorate in 1986 on a study of the effects of comprehensive planning on settlement and population development in 17 municipalities in the Kristiansand area of Norway. He has published textbooks in geography and has worked on environmental planning and management of national parks and related reserves. He has actively participated in local politics for the Liberal Party as member of Bergen City Council and chairman of Landaas Township Council. He is currently Professor of Geography at the University of Bergen, with special responsibility for the courses in local and regional planning, Department of Geography, Breiviken 2, 5035 Bergen, Sandviken, Norway. Angela Hull has been researching in various aspects of regulatory systems and mechanisms over the last few years having spent the first part of her career as a planning practitioner. She is particularly interested in the relation between government intervention, urban region institutional capacity and spatial impacts. Her recent published work includes articles and book chapters on strategic planning, institutional relations, information diffusion in regulatory systems, and renewable energy policies. She is currently a lecturer in the Department of Town and Country Planning at the University of Newcastle, Newcastle upon Tyne, NE1 7RU.

Ib Jørgenson is Associate Professor in Planning and Society at Aalborg University, Department of Development and Planning, 9220 Aalborg, Denmark. He is a graduate (magistrum artium) in cultural sociology from the University of Copenhagen and has, among other subjects, researched in public participation, community organization, the welfare state and the politics of planning in Denmark and the USA since 1970. Presently he is doing research on evolving effects and consequences of EU planning and regional politics in general and in Denmark in particular. Abdul Khakee received his PhD in economics from the University of Göteborg in 1969 and his PhD in geography from Umea University in 1983. He has taught at the Göteborg School of Economics and the Universities of Stockholm and Umea. He has been visiting researcher at the University of Delaware, Bari Polytechnic, the University of Lisbon and the University of Melbourne. He is currently Professor of Urban Planning in the Department of Political Science, Umea University, Sweden. He is the author of several books and many journal articles on planning theory and planning practice, development planning and cultural economics. He was awarded the President’s Medal by the Operational Research Society (UK) in 1994. Finn Kjersdam is Professor of Urban Planning at Aalborg University. He has been a member of the Council of the Association of European Schools of Planning, the European Council of Town Planners and the International Society of City and Regional Planners, for many years. He is presently Dean of Engineering and Sciences at Aalborg University, 9220 Aalborg, Denmark. Alain Motte is Professor in Urban Planning and Head at the Institut d’Aménagement Regional, Université d’Aix-Marseille, 13100 Aix en Provence, France since 1992. (He was Professor and Head of the Institut d’Urbanisme de Grenoble between 1988 and 1991). He received his Doctorat d’Etat in Economics in 1977 at the University of AixMarseille. His research is centred on public policies in urban planning at metropolitan and national levels. His main recent publication is a book, for which he acts as editor, on French planning policies: Schéma directeur et agglomeration project: the experimentation of new urban policies (1981–1994) (Paris: Juris Service editions, 1995). Barrie Needham has carried out research into the practice of local and regional planning and into powers and instruments for implementing plans and planning policies. In connection with the latter, he has researched into and published widely about land policy. Since 1978 he has lived and worked in the Netherlands, where much of his research has been on interpreting Dutch planning for non-Dutch speakers. He is currently Professor of Spatial Planning at the University of Nijmegen, PO Box 9208, 6500 HK, Nijmegen, The Netherlands. Michael Neuman received his PhD in city and regional planning from the University of California at Berkeley in 1996. He recently lived in Spain for two years, conducting research in Madrid and Barcelona. A planning theorist who has practised as a planner in local, county and state governments in the USA, he also consults and publishes internationally on strategic planning and consensus building. His recent research is on city, metropolitan and state planning and politics. He has won many awards, including a Fulbright Fellowship and a grant from the National Endowment for the Arts. His current address is: Department of City and Regional Planning, Wurster Hall, University of California, Berkeley, CA 94720, USA.

Jan Nielsen has been researching in various aspects of planning systems, urban policy, planning theory and planning practice for many years. He received his PhD in 1990 on a study titled Strategy or democracy in local planning in Denmark. He has published textbooks and journal articles within the field of planning theory and planning practice in Denmark, and is currently, as an Associate Professor in the Department of Development and Planning, Aalborg University, 9220 Aalborg, Denmark, doing research in various aspects of spatial planning in Europe. Arminda Reis, architect since 1977, works in a Municipal Department for Housing and Planning in Setubal. She has a masters degree in regional and urban planning and has been involved in research concerning the management of information for planning at municipal level with GIS. She wrote a book on Municipal geographic information systems (Edicoes Fim de Seculo, 1993). In 1995 she began her doctoral degree, researching the implementation of municipal geographic information systems, which focuses on the management of change in organizations. Her current address is Quinta de Vanicelos. Lote 22° Dto, Setubal, Portugal. Hellmut Ringli graduated as an architect at the Federal Institute of Technology (ETH) Zurich and studied town and regional planning at the Graduate School of Ekistiks in Athens. After four years of consulting work in town planning with Doxiadis Associates in Greece and Ghana, in 1967 he joined the Institute for Local, Regional and National Planning (ORL-Institute) at the ETH Zurich, Hoenggerberg, 8093 Zürich, Switzerland. Since then, as a senior staff member, he has been mainly involved in research, development and consulting projects at the national and cantonal level. From 1969 to 1973 he was project manager for the “Swiss national development concepts” project on behalf of the federal government. For many years he has been advising the Federal Office of Spatial Planning on various activities. Lia T.Vasconcelos lectures in the Department of Environmental Engineering, New University of Lisbon, Quinta da Torre, 2825 Monte de Caparica, Portugal. Her research has focused on the processes of the use of information, particularly in complex multi-actor issues within the context of environmental quality and growth management. She is also interested in the role played by technology in enhancing these processes. Her work has involved the study of participatory settings in the building up of institutions, namely through collaborative group processes development. Alessandro Vignozzi is an urban designer/planner in private practice and collaborates as a PhD student with the Dipartimento di Urbanistica e Pianificazione del Territorio at the Facoltà di Architettura in Florence. His research is centred on innovation in planmaking and the aesthetic quality of the built environment. He wrote an essay on design control in Italian planning for a monographic issue of the journal Built Environment, edited by John Punter. His last work is a book on the experience of aesthetic control in England and its theoretical and practical implications from the point of view of Italian planning practice. His current address is Via dei Serragli 101, 50124 Firenze, Italy.

PART I

CHAPTER ONE The revival of strategic spatial planning in Europe Patsy Healey Introduction Spatial planning in Europe This book is about new directions in the practice of spatial planning in Europe in the 1980s and 1990s. Its focus is on how spatial strategies are made and translated into plans and projects for managing spatial change, development investment and environmental quality in urban regions. A strategic approach to land-use regulation and investment in urban and regional spatial development was dominant in many European countries in the 1960s. By the 1980s, the strategic impetus had lapsed in many places. Political and policy attention had tended to shift to the project: infrastructure investment projects, urban transformation projects, business parks and new settlements. By the late 1980s, however, and even more in the 1990s, a strategic approach to the organization of urban and regional space had become more prevalent. These new efforts in strategic spatial planning differ significantly from those deployed in the 1960s in their processes and policy agendas. This book focuses on this evolution. The experience discussed is that of western Europe, including most of the countries now in the European Union, as well as Norway and Switzerland. Despite the diversity between and within these countries, they share two qualities which provide an interesting context for the evolution of strategic spatial planning practices. First, there is a strong appreciation of regional diversity and historical-cultural traditions. Secondly, most evolved some form of social democratic consensus in the period following the Second World War, in which government in some form played a major role in economic and social policy and, commonly, in the urban development process (Esping-Anderson 1990). Current shifts in governance have undermined this consensus but still build on its institutional forms and discourses. Spatial planning in context Spatial planning is about setting frameworks and principles to guide the location of development and physical infrastructure. It consists of a set of governance practices for developing and implementing strategies, plans, policies and projects, and for regulating the location, timing and form of development. These practices are shaped by the dynamics of economic and social change, which give rise to demands for space, location and qualities of places. These dynamics also shape expectations about how demands will

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be met, and the values accorded to the attributes of places and buildings. The demands are mediated through local political systems and practices and by regional and national government politics and administration. Through these interactions, general economic and social tendencies interrelate with local conditions and concerns to produce distinctive, contingent responses to the dynamics of urban region change. However, spatial planning practices are not just a contingent response to wider forces. They are also active forces in these changes. Investment decisions, principles for regulating land-use change, and ideas about spatial organization generate constraints and opportunities. These help to shape urban region dynamics. The objective of many of the spatial plan-making exercises discussed in this book is deliberately to “frame” the dynamics of urban region change by shaping the decisions of all the many agents whose activities constitute and carry these dynamics. In this way, government helps to structure both land and property development activity and the agendas of pressure groups and social movements concerned with environmental quality. This perspective on spatial planning reflects an “institutionalist” approach to social change and public policy. We elaborate this in Chapter 2. It leads us to consider how contemporary spatial plan-making exercises contribute and respond to the changes in the economic, social and political trajectories of today’s urban regions. How far are spatial planning practices adapting to these changes? To what extent are they loci of innovation in changing urban region governance practices? What are the potential consequences of such adaptation and innovation, in terms of the economic health, quality of life, social cohesion and environmental quality of regions, and what if there is no adaptation or innovation? What are the implications of current changes for the methods of planning and the roles of planners? The argument The discussion and cases in this book are focused by the following premises. First, we anticipated that strategic spatial planning activity would be taking place in contexts very different to those of the mid-twentieth century. These differences are discussed further in the next section. Three types of difference are of major significance for planning systems. First, the economic restructuring of many of Europe’s urban regions towards new forms of production relations, and an expansion and diversification of the service sector, have generated pressures on urban regions. This leads local political communities to seek ways of developing and promoting their economies in proactive ways. Secondly, the combination of fiscal stress in the public sector and the leverage of neoliberal political philosophy have led to new relationships between public and private sectors in the land and property development sector. Thirdly, the growing political influence of the environmental movement, and a whole range of other lobby groups, have focused significant political attention on the impacts of projects to change local environments. One question of the study was therefore to examine how Europe’s planning systems were responding to new contexts. Are the systems inherited from the past robust enough for present circumstances? Are they being transformed and, if so, into what institutional forms and with what consequences? A second premise relates to the nature of strategic plan-making. We understand this as a social process through which a range of people in diverse institutional relations and

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positions come together to design plan-making processes and develop contents and strategies for the management of spatial change. This process generates not merely formal outputs in terms of policy and project proposals, but a decision framework that may influence relevant parties in their future investment and regulatory activities. It may also generate ways of understanding, ways of building agreement, of organizing and of mobilizing to influence in political arenas. This social process, we assume, is shaped by both the dynamics of urban region change and by the formal law and procedure of existing spatial and land-use planning systems. We also recognize that the effort of planmaking itself has the potential to be an active force in both the trajectory of urban region change and in the framing and realization of formal policy systems. We were, therefore, interested on the one hand in the interaction between the active work of “agency” in realizing and shaping structuring forces and, on the other, the “driving power” of these forces, with respect to the governance of the spatial organization of urban regions. This approach is developed further in Chapter 2. A third premise was that the policy field of strategic spatial planning is of importance to political communities in many urban regions in contemporary Europe. The locational patterning of places is being significantly changed by major investments—in transport, development and telecommunications infrastructures. Changes in economic organization and in life-styles are leading to new ways of using urban region space, devaluing some locations and revaluing others. New understandings of environmental impacts and capacity constraints force reconsideration of the value of sites, locations and environmental assets. We therefore anticipated that spatial planning would attract significant political and policy attention. Finally, we recognized that, within western Europe, spatial planning systems and practices have evolved in a distinctive historical, institutional and cultural context. One dimension of this context is a deep valuing of the qualities of place and an appreciation of their diversity. More specifically with respect to spatial planning systems, there is a settled acceptance of the importance of individual property rights, combined with a recognition that it is legitimate for governments to limit these rights in the collective interest. This acceptance has been reinforced over the years by a positive view of many of the measures introduced in post-war welfare states (Esping-Anderson 1990). Although in most countries, spatial planning is grounded at the regional or local level of government, there are also long-standing traditions of intervention at the urban region level, to provide master plans and strategies for towns and cities. This means that formal procedures and institutional arenas for strategic spatial plan-making in the machinery of spatial and landuse planning systems have been in existence for many years and do not have to be invented de novo. In this context, we sought to explore how political communities in urban regions were expressing themselves in their spatial plans, what they identified as key actions to pursue in the public interest and what institutional processes and arenas they were using to articulate their concerns. Specifically in our study, we were interested in the way the rich inheritance of institutional resources for managing spatial change in urban regions embodied in formal planning systems was being used and redesigned to meet new challenges. These issues are explored through ten case studies of spatial strategy-making. Each has been selected from within each country as representative of leading edge or innovatory practices in some respect (Healey 1994). To set the above issues in context,

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the rest of this chapter examines first the context for spatial plan-making exercises. The second section reviews general tendencies in spatial plan-making in contemporary Europe. The third section comments on the relation between plan-making and plans, and between policy and action. Chapter 2 then develops the theoretical debate about planmaking and elaborates our own approach. Contemporary urban region dynamics Urban regions Spatial planning activity takes place primarily at the level of the region, the city and the neighbourhood or rural settlement. Even when the focus of attention is the project rather than strategies, planning systems tend to stress how a project fits into a wider area. For the purposes of this study, we have emphasized the context of the urban region. By this is meant an area over which the interactions of daily life stretch out and interlock with those of business life, expressed in core relationships such as transport and utilities networks, and land and labour markets. It may refer to a metropolis, a polynodal densely settled urban complex or a commuter or leisure hinterland. It may or may not coincide with administrative boundaries, such as municipalities and communes, counties, provinces and metropolitan regions. Our objective is to cast a geographical net with which to capture the issues, actors and relationships involved in the economic, social and environmental relations through which regional space and local environments are changed, and to identify the formal or informal organizational level around which key actors cluster. What the issues are, the relations between them, and the levels and arenas at which they are discussed and strategies and policies articulated, vary from case to case, depending on local histories and geographies, and formal political and administrative organization and local political dynamics. Pressures for transformation The political economy of Europe and its urban regions is often described these days as being in a period of transition (Amin & Dietrich 1991, Dunford & Kafkalis 19921). One aspect of this transition is stressed by the economic geographers, who discuss the restructuring of economic organization from Fordist to post-Fordist, and post-industrial forms (Amin 1994, Jessop et al. 1991). Such analysts examine the structures and networks of companies and identify the complex ways in which companies in a place are linked, via formal organization in multinational complexes or by supplying and contracting networks to other parts of the world and to strategic decision-networks. For such companies, the qualities of a place are merely a set of potentially useful assets or liabilities. The notion of an integrated urban region economy is displaced by that of production “filières”2 1. Our references here and elsewhere in this book are primarily from the English language literature on these issues. 2. Also known as “value-added chains”.

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weaving across urban region space, locking into local assets and from time to time interlacing with each other in regions. The task of urban region economic development becomes that of pinning down “filières” into a place and helping to “add value” to the production chain (Amin & Thrift 1995, Boyer 1991, Saxenian 1994). A second aspect of transition is emphasized by the cultural analysts, who identify a shift from preoccupations with modernizing cities in order to reflect new technology, material values and utilities, to a postmodern consideration of diversity and difference, of style and aesthetics (Harvey 1989a, Dear 1995, Zukin 1991). This is partly seen in analyses of new household forms, locational preferences, and tendencies in life-style differentiation, linked to concerns about social polarization, intercultural tensions and social exclusion (Mingione 1992, 1996, Khakee & Thomas 1995). It is also seen in the rapid growth in the political leverage of the environmental movement, with its emphasis on the limits to unfettered economic growth, on the importance of sustaining the quality of biospheric systems, and on the environmental qualities of urban regions (Nijkamp & Perrels 1994). These shifts in social and environmental conceptions are linked together through the ambiguous concepts of quality of life and sustainable development. These challenge previously accepted policy agendas about the desirability and forms of economic growth and development, and reinforce policy interest in the strategic qualities of places, as local cultures and environments. A third aspect of transition is highlighted in the notion of a shift from the political philosophy and organization of the universalist welfare state to more market-and familydriven approaches to welfare delivery, as in Jessop’s notion of the “workfare” state (Jessop 1991, Khakee et al. 1995), or Mingione’s analysis of tendencies in social organization (Mingione 1992). Some analysts have linked all these changes together, describing the shift from the managerial policies appropriate for a Fordist economy to an entrepreneurial politics that supports post-Fordist strategies of capital accumulation (Harvey 19895). Whether these theories of “transition” are accepted or not, there are obvious changes in Europe’s political economy and geography. The collapse of communist regimes is reordering the geography of market opportunities, opening frontiers and changing transport routes. The expansion of the EU to encompass first more southern countries and now most of Scandinavia and Austria is having a similar effect. Both put pressure on local governments to rethink their geographical position and their economic competitiveness. For all countries within the EU, the EU policies have a further effect because of the Union’s regulations and subsidy. In recent years, the EU has promoted the opening up of national borders to trans-European competition, seeking to create a common integrated European economic space. To cope with the adverse consequences of this on the economies of some regions, it has promoted structural adjustment funds. In disbursing these funds, a strong emphasis has been placed on regions and the articulation of urban region strategies (CEC 1991, 1994). Several of our cases show the powerful influence of these EU policies on spatial strategy-making in urban regions. There is much debate about the scale, form and interconnection of these changes affecting Europe’s urban regions. Some stress continuity, others disjunction and inchoate contradictory pressures. Others see clear trajectories (Dunford & Kafkalis 1992, Amin & Dietrich 1991, Amin 1994). Although the perception of fundamental change in the structures of economic, social and political orders is supported by much macro and micro

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evidence, the pace of change varies between types of activity and between places. Our case studies of innovation in spatial strategy-making show an awareness of these pressures for transition and potentials for transformation in structures and systems. But each case is different in its context, as are the dynamics of change in that context. Local governance and the management of space Spatial planning and spatial strategy-making are a part of the relations of governance of an urban region. The term governance is used here to encompass both the formal machinery of government and the informal alliances and networks through which business groups, environmental groups, neighbourhood groups and amenity societies interlink with formal government and in that way manage aspects of the collective affairs or “public realm” of urban region life. Spatial planning is typically embedded in local governance, the institutions of regional and local government and the coalitions and pressure groups that cluster around these levels, although national governments continue to play a role in many places (and notably in Britain). EU policy also affects the regulations incorporated in planning systems, as well as the resources available for investment in programmes and projects. Analysts of contemporary trends in regional and local governance identify the following interrelated shifts to be found in European local governance (Batley & Stoker 1991, Goldsmith 1993, Khakee et al. 1995, Houlihan 1992, Harding 1996): • from a role in the provision of welfare services, products and facilities (the “provider state”) to a proactive, enabling role providing a framework within which firms, agencies and voluntary groups may deliver services and promote development • from integrated formal government, with policy articulation and delivery concentrated in a few key arenas (such as municipal or regional governments, or the functional departments of national government) to a fragmentation of governance tasks among different agencies—public, private, mixed, intermediate or “third sector”3 • from a dominance of national ministries, politicians and lobby groups to regional and local ones (especially in France, Norway, Denmark, Sweden and Portugal) • from a clear separation of public and private spheres, to new forms of partnership between public and private sectors, between state and market, and between the public sector and citizens • from hierarchical and bureaucratic forms of organization to proactive and interactive forms of governance, building constituencies of support and negotiating contributions from various parties to programmes and projects. Spatial planning systems The central theme of this book is the way these general tendencies are being reflected in spatial planning practices. Spatial planning systems have distinctive institutional forms in each country, and they are realized in different ways in different places. Typically in Europe, a major function is the regulation of land-use change and development. Spatial 3. The term “third sector” refers to not-for-profit agencies and voluntary bodies, which operate “between” the terrain of the public and private sectors.

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planning is also usually intended to provide a framework for major public investment in physical infrastructure or public sector building work. But there are substantial variations in the extent to which regulatory activity is linked to development activity and to other governance functions, such as housing policy, economic development or environmental policy. There is also variation in the level at which regulatory principles are articulated. Most European planning systems have a formal structure that reflects a hierarchical approach, allowing national policies to be superimposed on regional and local ones. They are based on the assumption that the national level, through politicians, professionals and administrators, articulates the public interest in land-use change and development. In theory, planning systems are expected to combine broad policy purposes expressing this public interest with the specification of building form and materials and the definition of private rights in land and property development through zoning schemes. In some instances (e.g. Germany), these latter are the basis for defining property values as well (Dieterich et al. 1993). In this context, plans have a key formal role in translating higherlevel policy principles into spatial schemes, to provide a basis for zoning ordinances. But this top-down approach led by the public sector has often decayed, leaving the zoning regimes to float off into autonomous arenas of bureaucratic regulation. In other contexts, a regulatory approach to zoning has been replaced by an informal proactive, negotiative form, but without rethinking general principles and strategies. Both tendencies have led in many places to a neglect of strategic spatial plan-making. It is this neglect that is now being reversed in many cases. The pressures generated by the tendencies in urban region dynamics discussed above are one reason for this. They are producing a political need to rethink policy principles and to reconnect the disparate elements of economic, sociocultural and environmental relationships as they are manifest in spatial organization and local environmental quality. Another reason, linked to these pressures, is related to both governance decentralization and the widespread challenges by business and citizens to the capacity and competence of politics and the public sector. Local political regimes typically have many environmental conflicts to sort out and a diversity of pressures upon them demanding action. The EU is itself reflecting and promoting the revival of strategic spatial planning in its work on Europe 2000+ (CEC 1994) and the Compendium of spatial planning systems (CEC forthcoming). But the form of Europe’s planning systems is inherited from old ideas about how government should be organized. This raises the question of whether the tools and procedures for strategic spatial planning designed in earlier periods are appropriate for the new pressures of the 1990s. To explore whether old tools are being adapted or new ones invented, we focus in this book on examples of spatial plan-making that are seen to be innovative in their national and local contexts. In undertaking the case studies, we have sought to emphasize the complex interplay between the issues and substantive content of such plan-making exercises and the processes, or institutional dynamics, through which that content is articulated.

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From “providing” to “enabling” Strategies provide frameworks and principles that feed into decision-making on specific issues. Strategic spatial planning frameworks provide direction and justification for the flow of regulatory and investment activity, which leads to changes in the location and form of development. Preparing strategic spatial frameworks for local environmental change in urban regions is a considerable challenge. It involves interrelating the various dimensions of social, economic and environmental change in an urban region, as these affect space, place and physical development. It typically leads to, or draws on, the articulation of spatial organizing ideas and policy principles, which have the capacity to influence and structure the actions of a diversity of other agencies. Such coordination may be a significant formal objective for plan-making efforts. But a strategy or a plan by itself does not do much to coordinate. It is the social processes of articulating and using it that achieve this. These involve organizational coordination as much as analytical and conceptual coordination. Strategic plan-making is thus as much about process, about institutional design and mobilization, as about the development of substantive policies. Plan-making efforts draw on the “interrelational capacity” of places (Amin & Thrift 1995). They are located within the alliances and networks surrounding governance activity and they reflect the quality of these relationships. Through the social relations of plan-making processes, issues are identified, strategic ideas articulated and policy agendas structured. Strategic plan-making often involves developing this interrelational capacity (Innes et al. 1994). For this reason, we take plan-making4 as the focus of our study, rather than merely the textual product of such processes, such as a development plan, a master plan, or policy statement; or the content of the policies as understood by the players. However, strategies do not necessarily have the influence their makers intend. The literature on the operation of planning systems is full of examples of “implementation failures” and “implementation gaps”. It has, nevertheless, been claimed that the exercise of land-use regulation in Europe has been typically planled, particularly outside the UK (Davies et al. 1989). By this is meant that private and public investment projects have been in the locations and on the terms outlined in planning strategies, and, where these exist, zoning ordinances. Cullingworth (1993) contrasts this tradition with US local zoning systems, which are driven by concern with the specification of land rights rather than managing the location of development. Whereas the practice in Europe has probably always been less plan-led than the formal system would suggest, this difference between us and European traditions reflects the historical statist traditions of many post-war European states, linked to a battery of welfare state policies (Batley & Stoker 1991, Esping-Anderson 1990). In the welfarist model, the public sector was expected to undertake, manage and regulate development in line with a generalized and unitary conception of “the public interest”. The public sector itself was often a major actor in the land and property development process and it could facilitate development in line with 4. The emphasis on “making” also has a conceptual meaning, focusing on the active work of agency in creating structures, in making social contexts (Giddens 1984, Shorter 1993).

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strategic objectives. The public sector acted as a “provider” of a coordinated stable framework for the making of development investment decisions, as well as a provider of serviced land and development. It is perhaps in the Netherlands that this situation still prevails. In Norway and Sweden, too, welfare state arrangements have persisted into the 1990s, accompanied by rational planning policy approaches (Sager 1994, Khakee 1994). However, these often hierarchical statist arrangements came under severe pressure in the 1980s. One reason was the shift towards a neoliberal political agenda. This was strongly evident in Denmark (Jørgensen et al. 1994) and England (Thornley 1991). Another was the impact of the economic and social changes discussed above. A third was the fiscal pressure on public finance, encouraging more partnership with private sector developers and infrastructure providers. This meant that the public sector became more interested in enabling development rather than providing it directly, and in stimulating development rather than regulating it. These pressures encouraged a shift away from plans and policies as guidance frameworks, since these seemed to be either too inflexible, or too outdated, or both. In many countries, the locus for determining whether developments could go ahead moved from the plan to the project. A negotiative practice developed around projects, often linked to local economic development objectives. This was particularly striking in England and France in the 1980s. Spain, Denmark, Italy, and more recently Germany, also developed a strongly projectorientated approach to the public regulation and promotion of development. One consequence of this new developmental and facilitative attitude is that mechanisms are found to by-pass regulations and agreed strategies, with forms of “fasttracking” schemes through planning regulations (Benfield 1994). This project-led practice was legitimated by a range of arguments used by critics of existing plans. Plans were said to be out of date, as their strategies were no longer relevant, given major changes in local economies. It was claimed that plans failed to take account of new values and concerns, notably with respect to environmental quality. It was argued that they embodied statist “command and control” models of regulation, rather than marketrelevant facilitation, and that they were having a negative effect, holding back development when the need was for a proactive stance towards development. Plans were also criticized for the technical-rational assumptions about the nature of knowledge and the relation of knowledge to action which they were said to embody. Recent critics have argued that this view of knowledge relevant to planning work neglected the knowledge to be obtained through democratic debate among interested parties (Khakee et al. 1995, Motte 1995). Arguments against the over-regulation and outdated ideas embodied in plans have been particularly strident in neoliberal Britain (Thornley 1991). In Italy and France, it has been argued that what is required is an integration of social, economic and environmental concerns into the thinking about projects, thus rendering the plan of less significance (Secchi 1986, Motte 1994), a planning through projects, rather than planning-through-plans. Project-based approaches, overriding formally agreed planning strategies, appeared in the short term to be flexible, adjusting to the complex interplay of political and market pressures, which any system for managing local environmental quality and the regulation of development has to address. But such ad hoc responsiveness brought its own problems and it highlighted the problems that could arise without a strategic planning capability. It generated uncertainty in property markets. Landowners and developers whose projects

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were not favoured or fast-tracked could complain of unfair treatment by the state. Nor did such practices reassure increasingly vociferous environmental and community groups. They undermined confidence in the good faith of politicians. And they created opportunities for corrupt practice; that is, decisions that benefited political parties or particular politicians and officials (Benfield 1994, Motte 1994). In both England and Finland, greater emphasis on strategic planning has followed a period of damaging land and property speculation. Elsewhere, it arises from the growing demand from citizens for more involvement in planning processes and for more adherence to plans, especially in northern Europe (Healey 1994), and from the difficult challenge of combining objectives of economic development and environmental sustainability. By the early 1990s, there was a new interest across Europe in strategic spatial frameworks, at local and regional levels, and in some cases national ones (as in the Netherlands, Denmark and Switzerland). This book explores the processes through which such strategies are being articulated, their substantive contents and their methodological approaches. Through this, we seek to identify the possible continuities and transformations in European spatial plan-making practices. Plans, planning systems and regulations Any exercise in comparative research on planning systems is faced with difficult problems of definition (Williams 1990). For the purposes of this book, planning systems are taken to mean the legal and administrative procedures and institutional arrangements for guiding the location of investment in development projects and for regulating the way land is used and developed. Such systems may take many forms, as do the practices through which they are put into effect. Planning systems typically contain provisions that allow specification of the location and type of development, which the planning authority seeks to encourage and which provide stability to the determination of legal rights to use and develop land. They may require the preparation of a planning scheme or ordinance specifying land-uses and development norms in order to indicate the restrictions that apply to land and property rights. There may be provision for requiring contributions to public costs in some form, and for land purchase and assembly by the state, so that development and infrastructure investment can proceed in line with plans. Where local jurisdictions have considerable powers to raise taxes and invest in development and infrastructure, as, for example, in the Netherlands and Finland, plans may have a significant function in relation to these land and financial matters. There are commonly standardized codes indicating the way landuses are to be classified when rights to develop are considered. There may be provision for challenge by affected property interests and by parties with more general interests in local environments, both with respect to the contents of schemes and to individual permit decisions. All these detailed provisions are in most cases legally significant, as they serve to construct the rights of individual property owners with respect to what they can do with their holdings. An innovation which changes the specification of rights may significantly affect how landowners and local governments think about what is possible. In addition to these detailed matters, planning systems usually provide for some form of strategic plan, to provide a guiding framework for the exercise of the regulation of land

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rights and other interventions in the development process. Such a plan helps to limit arbitrary decision-making by the planning authority. Behind the idea of the guiding framework is an intention that there should be good public interest reasons for regulating development in particular ways. These may derive from potential adverse externality effects, from the costs of coordination failures, or from compromise to strategic objectives or to key values held by a political community. Such “good reasons” are a justification for the use of public powers and a valued safeguard against unfettered bureaucratic power and possible corruption of the formal rules for personal or political advantage. Strategic plans have come to perform a significant role in articulating these “good reasons”. Originating in ideas about the design of urban structure to meet welfare objectives, provisions exist in most European planning systems for strategic plans. These may focus at the level of the commune or municipality, or at a higher level such as a conurbation or a region. Strategic plans articulate the reasons justifying public intervention in private land rights, through either expropriation or regulation. The process of preparing strategic plans encourages city-wide regional policies and interests, along with national and EU policy concerns, to be translated into principles guiding land-use regulation. However, there are some very significant differences across Europe in planning systems and in the way strategic spatial plan-making is emerging. One such difference relates to tendencies in the roles and levels of government. In some countries, such as Sweden, France, Finland, Denmark and Spain, there have been significant moves since the mid-1980s to decentralize responsibilities to localities (see Elander & Montin 1990). In Switzerland, with its powerful communes and cantons, the movement has been in the opposite direction. England remains as centralized as ever, although a few recent moves may be the first signs of real decentralization (Goldsmith 1993). In some countries with substantial local autonomy, municipalities are the key coordinators of government interventions linking social, economic and environmental policy. In Norway, integrated municipal planning is emphasized, and one of our cases, Lisbon, is focused on efforts at such an integrated approach. In some other systems, however, and notably in England, spatial planning is confined to a narrow agenda of land allocation and the form of development. Functional coordination is left to ad hoc negotiation. Many European planning systems have a version of three tiers of policy guidance and plans: national, regional and local. This reflects an acceptance of the legitimacy of different scales at which the public interest in what happens in local environments may be articulated. How this works out in practice, and how the various forms of coordination take place, depends on the political culture and traditions of nations and regions. Most accounts of planning practice in Europe, as already noted, report a shift from an administrative regulatory practice to a more negotiative one. But there is considerable variation in who the key actors in negotiative networks are and in the cultures within which they operate. In the Portuguese case, the key players are agency staff and professionals, primarily architects and engineers. In Italy, too, architects play a critical role. In Spain and France, politicians and officials work closely together. In England, the key players are developers, planning authority officials and sometimes major conservation groups. Negotiation is framed by the possibility of referral to semi-judicial appeal and then to the courts. In Finland and Norway, citizens have a strong voice in the negotiative process and reaching consensus is valued. In the Netherlands, longstanding

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traditions of constructing consensus among the levels and sectors with an interest in development and conservation lead to a practice where plans are not usually put forward until all players are in agreement (see Healey 1994). These differences between planning systems have significant effects on the way strategic spatial plans in different contexts are articulated and used, and on the nexus of relations surrounding plan-preparation exercises. Yet there are strong common tendencies too. Most systems have retained their formal organization and many of their practices from a time when the public sector was the primary provider of development land, infrastructure and often much of the development itself. The exceptions are Spain and Portugal, with reformulations introduced after the fall of dictatorships in the 1970s, and Switzerland, which reorganized to give a stronger role to regional and national levels in 1980. The relations between levels of government commonly retain a hierarchical form. Those designing planning systems in the 1950s and 1960s also tended to assume that managing spatial change in urban regions required comprehensive, fully integrated spatial strategies. There are common tendencies, too, in the recent shifts in the role and form of planmaking. In terms of the substance of policy, there has been a considerable reorientation from accommodating new development and regulating urban expansion to the transformation of the existing urban fabric. Economic development is a major preoccupation in many plan-making exercises, and the European environmental agenda is affecting plan content in many countries. There are also common tendencies in changes in the institutional context of plan-making. Many more interest groups now assert a point of view about what cities, neighbourhoods and rural landscapes should be like. This pluralism has tended to turn planning systems into arenas for mediating conflicts. Planmaking has thus become less a task of integrating a range of considerations into a coherent strategy. Many formal strategic plans instead became more like collections of politically derived statements arising from disparate resolutions to separate interest conflicts. As a result, plans have lost their strategic role. Reflecting this, during the 1980s, plans were sometimes described as a form of contract, a record of claims for attention and bargains reached among various parties. Rather than being comprehensive, they were fragmented (Healey 1986, Mazza 1986). In the 1990s, however, the new demands for a more strategic approach to spatial planning have put the emphasis on producing some degree of integration and cohesion among these claims. In many of Europe’s planning systems, the formal machinery for articulating spatial strategy has become discredited. Strategies have been ignored, or have disintegrated into fragments of functionally separated policy. In some countries, such as the Netherlands, the formal systems continue to provide the key arenas and procedures for spatial strategymaking. In Spain and Portugal, the formal institutions and processes for plan-making have recently been re-modelled in parallel to innovation in spatial strategy development. Elsewhere, the new impulse towards strategic planning has been taking place informally, outside the formal arenas provided by the planning system itself. This is well illustrated in contemporary tendencies in the English regions. A key theme pursued in this book is the relationship of these informal processes to the formal machinery of planning systems, and the extent to which pressures from the informal arenas consolidate, adapt or transform this formal machinery.

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Comparing cases of strategic planning Our objective is to explore the processes, contents and forms of strategic spatial planmaking practices in urban regions in a range of western European countries. This is a difficult task to undertake, as practices are enormously diverse, reflecting national differences and local contingencies. In order to explore the relation between policy process and content, intensive research was necessary. Our approach has involved three steps. First, researchers on spatial planning systems and practices in several western European countries were invited to discuss trends in spatial plan-making in their countries. On the basis of collective discussion, each participant identified a case which was seen as either at the leading edge of practice or recognized as a distinctive and new approach (Table 1.1). Secondly,

Table 1.1 The case study framework. Driving forces What are the dynamics of the context for strategic spatial plan-making and how are they being “carried into” plan-making activity? The institutional dynamics of plan-making What actors are involved, through what relationships and in what arenas? How far are these different to what has gone before? What is the relation between planmaking activity and regulatory and investment activity? Policy agendas and spatial organizing ideas What issues are addressed? How are issues framed? What is the relation between issues and strategic ideas and policies? How do the policies interrelate? What conceptions of place, space and environmental quality do they embody? Methods How is the approach to plan-making related to the context? How is plan-making activity organized? What knowledge resources are used? How is analysis and evaluation undertaken? How are policies related to action? How are plans presented? What is the role of planners? Consequences What consequences are predicted from strategic spatial plan-making; in relation to influences on regulatory and investment decisions? On future ways of thinking and organizing? Both in situ and elsewhere; what are the wider implications for urban region economies, quality of life, quality of environment and governance?

two further discussions were held, at which the cases were discussed and a common framework was evolved (Table 1.2). Thirdly, there has been extensive interaction between the case study authors and the editors, to interrelate the material in the cases and the themes emerging in the general discussion in Part III. Through this process, both a mode of analysis and an account of emerging practices in western Europe has been produced.

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Table 1.2 The cases. Type of area

Country

Case

Date

1989 onwards Large urban centres Denmark Copenhagen (Ørestad) France Lyon metropolitan area 1986–92 Spain Madrid/Gran Sur 1987–93 Portugal Lisbon 1989–94 Switzerland Zürich 1991–4 Urban regions Norway Bergen /Hordaland County 1992–5 England Lancashire County 1993–5 Rural areas Netherlands Friesland Province 1991–4 Sweden Marks Kommun 1987–91 Italy Grosseto, Tuscany 1988–90(1995–)

The book is organized in three parts. The aim of Part I is to outline the themes to be pursued and to set the context for the practices described. The ten cases make up Part II. Part III then discusses institutional processes, policy agendas and methods, before returning to the general questions raised in this chapter. The overall aim This book is intended to contribute to the understanding of planning systems and practices at several levels. First, we provide evidence of changing directions in spatial plan-making in Europe, which should be of interest to planners and all others concerned with changing directions in urban region governance in Europe. Secondly, we suggest a way of conceptualizing spatial plan-making exercises as processes of institutional redesign, which should be helpful both to analysts of such activity and to those actively involved in it. Thirdly, we contribute to the theory of spatial planning. Specifically, we seek to illustrate how the emerging institutionalist approach can be developed into a working tool for evaluating and developing spatial planning practices. Finally, we hope the material will be helpful to scholars, in developing their understanding of spatial planning practices and techniques. This book is, therefore, for analysts of spatial planning processes, for planning practitioners and for students of spatial planning. Through the case studies, and the discussion that follows in Part in, we aim to illustrate how strategic planning work is being undertaken these days. But we go further. Our work is informed by the conviction, based on our research experience, that strategic spatial planning has a valuable role to play in realizing contemporary economic, environmental and sociocultural concerns about the qualities of places. Strategic spatial planning can also provide a transparent, fair and legitimate way of recognizing and responding to the multiplicity of stakeholders, interests and value conflicts that arise in urban regions. It should thus contribute to sustaining and developing forms of local democratic governance.

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References and further reading Amin, A. 1994. Models, fantasies and phantoms of transition. In Post Fordism: a reader, Amin A. (ed.), 1–39. Oxford: Basil Blackwell. Amin, A. & H.Dietrich (eds) 1991. Towards a new Europe. Aldershot, England: Edward Elgar. Amin, A. & N.Thrift 1995. Globalisation, institutional “thickness” and the local economy. In Managing cities, P.Healey, S.Cameron, S.Davoudi, S.Graham, A.Madanipour (eds), 91–108. Chichester: John Wiley. Batley, R. & G.Stoker 1991. Local government in Europe. London: Macmillan. Benfield, M. 1994. Planning regulation: who benefits. Paper presented at the AESOP Congress, Istanbul, August. Boyer, R. 1991. The eighties: the search for alternatives to Fordism. In The politics of flexibility: restructuring state and industry in Britain, Germany and Scandinavia, B.Jessop, H.Kastendiek, K.Nielsen, I.K.Pedersen (eds), 106–132. Cheltenham: Edward Elgar. CEC (Commission of the European Communities) 1991. Europe 2000. Luxembourg: European Commission. —1994. Europe 2000+: cooperation for European territorial development. Luxembourg: European Commission. —(forthcoming) The EU compendium of spatial planning systems and policies: comparative review of systems and policies. Luxembourg: European Commission. Cullingworth, J.B. 1993. Planning control in comparative context. London: Routledge. Davies, H.W.E., D.Edwards, A.Hooper, J.Punter 1989. Planning control in western Europe. London: HMSO. Dear, M. 1995. Prolegomena to a post-modern urbanism. In Managing cities, P.Healey, S.J. Cameron, S.Davoudi, A.Graham, A.Madanipour (eds), 27–44. Chichester: John Wiley. Dieterich, H., E.Dransfeld, W.Voss 1993. Urban land and property markets in Germany. London: UCL Press. Dunford, M. & G.Kafkalis (ed.) 1992. Cities and regions in the new Europe. London: Pinter (Belhaven). Elander, I. & S.Montin 1990. Decentralisation and control: central-local relations in Sweden. Policy and Politics 18(3), 165–80. Esping-Anderson, G. 1990. The three worlds of welfare capitalism. Cambridge: Polity Press. Giddens, A. 1984. The constitution of society. Cambridge: Polity Press. Goldsmith, M. 1993. The Europeanisation of local government. Urban Studies 30, 683–700. Harding, A. 1996. European urban regimes. Paper to CURDS Seminar, University of Newcastle upon Tyne, March. Harvey, D. 1989a. The condition of modernity. Oxford: Basil Blackwell. —1989b. From managerialism to entrepreneurialism: formation of urban governance in late capitalism. Geografisker Annaler 71B, 3–17. Healey, P. 1986. The role of development plans in the British planning system: an empirical assessment. Urban Law and Policy 8, 1–32. Healey, P. (ed.) 1994. Trends in development plan-making in European planning systems. Working Paper 42, Department of Town and Country Planning, University of Newcastle upon Tyne. Houlihan, B. (ed.) 1992. The challenge of public works management: a comparative study of North America, Japan and Europe. Brussels: International Institute of Administrative Sciences. Innes, J., J.Gruber, M.Neuman, R.Thompson 1994. Co-ordination, growth and environmental management through consensus building. Report to the California Policy Seminar (May 1994), Department of City and Regional Planning, University of California, Berkeley.

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Jessop, B. 1991. The welfare state in the transition from Fordism to post-Fordism. In Jessop et al. (1991:82–104). Jessop, B., H.Kastendiek, K.Nielsen, I.K.Pedersen (eds) 1991. The politics of flexibility: restructuring state and industry in Britain, Germany and Scandinavia. Cheltenham: Edward Elgar. Jørgensen, I., F.Kjersdam, J.Nielsen 1994. The state of development plan-making in Denmark. In Healey (1994:66–79). Khakee, A. 1994. Tendencies in development plan-making in Sweden. In Healey (1994:38–52). Khakee, A., I.Elander, S.Sunesson (eds) 1995. Remaking the welfare state. Aldershot, England: Avebury. Khakee, A. & H.Thomas 1995. Urban renewal, ethnicity and social exclusion in Europe. European Planning Studies 3(4), 489–510. Mazza, L. 1986. Giustificazione e autonomia. Urbanistica 82, 56–63. Mingione, E. 1992. Fragmented societies. Oxford: Basil Black well. —(ed.) 1996. Urban poverty and the underclass: a reader. Oxford: Basil Blackwell. Motte, A. 1994. Innovation in development plan-making in France 1967–1993. In Healey (1994:90–103). Motte, A. (ed.) 1995. Schéma directeur et projet d’agglomeration: l’experimentation de nouvelles politiques urbanies spatialisées 1981–1993. Paris: Editions Juris Service. Nijkamp, P. & A.Perrels 1994. Sustainable cities in Europe. London: Earthscan. Sager, T. 1994. Communicative planning theory. Aldershot, England: Avebury. Saxenian, A. 1994. Regional advantage. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press. Secchi, B. 1986. Una nuova forma di piano. Urbanistica 82, 6–13. Shotter, J. 1993. Conversational realities. London: Sage. Thornley, A. 1991. Urban planning under Thatcherism. London: Routiedge. Williams, R.H. W. 1990. Internationalizing planning education, 1992 and the European Erasmus Programme. Journal of Planning Education and Research 10(1), 75–8. Zukin, S. 1991. Landscapes of power. Berkeley: University of California Press.

CHAPTER TWO An institutionalist approach to spatial planning Patsy Healey The conceptual challenge In Chapter 1, spatial planning was presented as a social practice through which those concerned with the qualities of places and the spatial organization of urban regions collaborate to produce strategies, policies and plans to help guide specific decisions in order to regulate and invest in development activity. It was also argued that there are pressures to widen the range of those involved in these practices in order to include those in the private sector and voluntary groups of various kinds. This means that agencies involved in plan-making are likely to find themselves operating in a “shared power world” (Bryson & Crosby 1992). No one agency is in control, although some hold key sources of power, such as the legal power to issue a regulatory permit, or to draw up a plan with legal standing, or the financial power to invest and develop, or the political power to change political leadership through votes or other forms of political mobilization. All actors in the shared-power world are constrained by the power relations that surround them—the power of other agencies, the power carried within resourcing regimes, or the rules and procedures they have to abide by, or the routinized ways of thinking about things that they and others around them take for granted (Giddens 1984). At the same time, many of those involved in these interactive processes seek to change the way things are done, to introduce new ideas and policies, to replace one approach with another, to change accepted ways of organizing, to change the flows of resources, the form of rules and the ways of thinking about spatial planning. Our approach focuses on how policy actors mobilize efforts to transform both policy processes and policy outcomes. Through the resulting interactions, power relations are given specific shape and are shifted around. Strategic spatial plan-making, in this conception, is about building new ideas and about building processes that can carry them forwards. This way of thinking about strategic spatial plan-making, as a social process rather than a technical exercise, seeks to interrelate the active work of individuals within social processes (the level of agency) with the power of systemic forces—economic organization, political organization, social dynamics and natural forces (the level of the structuring of social relations). It recognizes that strategic spatial plan-making, although occurring within a context of powerful structuring forces, may be used by social groups to create structures and frameworks through which to influence the flow of events that affect them. This conception focuses attention in the case studies on what shapes the processes of adaptation and invention in which the various actors are involved, and on the

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capacity of the actors, in interaction, to use spatial strategy-making to shape the flow of regulation and development investment in their locality. This approach, which emphasizes the active role of agency in a constrained context where meanings, ways of organizing and outcomes are interactively and communicatively negotiated, is recognized in an expanding literature on communicative and interpretive approaches to planning (Innes 1995, Sager 1994, Healey 1992, 1996) and institutionalist approaches to social analysis (Giddens 1984, Clegg 1990, Powell & Dimaggio 1991, Healey et al. 1995, Healey 1997). In this chapter, we outline the emphases of an institutionalist account of planning practice. We then review models of the governance forms in which spatial planning practices have developed and are developing, in terms of four “ideal types”. Two of these are well known in planning literature. The first is the provider state and the comprehensive planning approach. The second is the negotiative state and the approach of planning as bargaining. The other two, the neoliberal and the collaborative, are dominant directions in contemporary thought on governance forms and their implications in planning. The institutionalist approach developed in this book has developed closest links with negotiative and collaborative approaches. We use it to provide a perspective through which to undertake a form of “pluralistic evaluation” (Hambleton & Thomas 1995, Vanderplaat 1995) of strategic plan-making efforts in the individual cases. It also offers a framework to help those involved in plan-making to reflect on the challenges and possibilities that they face. An institutionalist account The emerging institutionalist approach in planning theory and in the analysis of planning practice seeks to identify both general patterns in the form and contents of planning practices and the forces that drive them. At the same time, it recognizes that actual practices are deeply influenced by local histories and geographies, by the specific way in which broader forces impact on particular places, and by the capabilities of the actors involved. Strategic spatial plan-making practices are thus presented in this approach as contingent on local circumstances and embedded in local relationships, but yet are structured and shaped by wider relations of power. The interpretive and institutionalist approach to the analysis of planning practices has been developing rapidly (see Innes 1995, Healey 1997). Seven concepts from this line of work are useful for the purposes of examining strategic spatial planning practices. The first is the interrelationship of agency and structuring forces. This draws in particular on Giddens’s structuration theory (Giddens 1984). This portrays structuring dynamics as socially produced through the way people go about activities and through the systems of meaning they use. Constrained within structures, people creatively interpret and change them in the flow of their activities. The second concept is the recognition that knowledge and value, understanding and moral positions are articulated through social interaction. Technique and procedure do not just exist as the product of objective analysis and legal specification. They are actively generated through social processes. Strategic spatial planmaking is thus a process through which knowledge and value, rules and procedures are actively mobilized and transformed to produce new knowledge and value (Innes 1995).

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The third concept emphasizes that, in this social interaction, actors are not just autonomous players. They are linked into the social worlds of the agencies and firms they work for, their family and kinship networks, their political alliances, their professional associations and their friendship and special interest groups. Strategic spatial planmaking, especially where new actors are becoming involved, draws people together from different social worlds. The power of the plan-making effort lies in the ability to create a “social world of the plan”, which then infuses back within these relationships to affect what many people think and do (Healey 1996a). The fourth conception is of strategic plan-making as a process of social and political mobilization, through which new ideas and new processes are actively made. The fifth concept is that of policy discourses. By discourse is meant the frames of reference and systems of meaning with which ideas and arguments are articulated. Issues are raised, analyzed and debated not just as specific problems and policy ideas. Each problem and idea makes sense only within a particular system of meaning. One frequent challenge of strategic spatial plan-making is to find common ground between different meaning systems, as well as to negotiate between conflicting interests. A significant outcome may be not merely a new strategy but a new widely shared discourse about the issues (Healey 1996a, Faludi & Van der Valk 1994). The production and dissemination of new discourses is a key dimension of mobilization activity. Sixth, these processes of discourse development among many actors can make “institutional capital”. They may generate knowledge resources (intellectual capital); social network resources (social capital) and power bases (political capital) (Innes et al. 1994). These processes link to the final concept, that of “institutional capacity” (Amin & Thrift 1995). This refers not merely to the formal organizational structures, procedures and policy measures that actors can draw upon in developing strategic spatial planmaking activity. It also includes the collective store of relationships and alliances and the institutional loci of interaction, that is, the arenas where actors come together to develop and consolidate strategies (Bryson & Crosby 1992). It is through all these processes that spatial strategies are “socially constructed” and filled with power, while being shaped by the driving forces of the powerful structuring dynamics of their local context (Bryson & Crosby 1992, Healey et al. 1995, Innes 1995). These ideas fed into our approach to the case studies (see Table 1.2). They focused attention on processes, that is, the institutional relations of plan-making; on policy ideas and content, that is, the generation of policy agendas; on methods and techniques and the forces shaping them; and on how key actors sought to change the “ways things were done”, that is, to change systems and structuring forces. To help guide our work, we developed a “pro forma” that elaborates on these various points (see the appendix to this chapter). Here we summarize the content of this pro forma. The institutional relations of plan-making Our objective was to identify the key areas of institutional innovation. We sought to identify whether new actors, alliances and networks were involved in the articulation of strategic spatial policies and whether there were new forums and arenas in which strategy articulation took place. We also explored whether new ways of thinking about strategies, policy issues and policy tools were developing, and how these were articulated and

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mobilized. We were interested in whether these new ways of thinking were being translated into coordination and consensus-building practices, and into different ways of thinking about how policies might be translated into action. We also noted how expertise was used, specifically the role of people trained as “planners”. Policy agendas The central focus here was on the content of policy agendas and the discourses through which issues were given meaning. We identified the main issues that pre-occupied the plan-makers and whether they were specific to the local area. We also examined the extent and manner in which different issues and policy ideas were linked together. We anticipated that some plan-making exercises would remain strongly functional or “sectoral” in their organization, whereas others might be driven by powerful synthesizing conceptions and “visions”. We wanted to account for these differences. We also sought to draw out the nature of the links being made between issues and the policy theories underlying these. We focused in particular on spatial organizing ideas, what these emphasized, the conceptions of space embodied in them, and the difference between these ideas and previous conceptions. A further concern was the treatment of time, whether time was considered as an end-point or a trajectory and what the time horizons of the plan were. These issues have been drawn together by focusing on the policy discourses through which plan content is articulated. This has involved articulating the key policy theories about cause and effect, the storylines, images and metaphors deployed in developing and discussing issues and the differences with what has gone before. Methods The case studies include examples of methods being applied in plan-making to achieve many different things. Of most interest for this book, with its institutionalist approach, are the methods used by the agency (or agencies) responsible for strategic spatial planning in order to increase the likelihood that the plan and its policies will be realized. The innovations in methods are mostly to be found in that respect. The results of social science research into the effects of planning, and the planners’ own experience as interpreted in the light of that research, have led the planners to develop ways of working through institutional structures. This includes the use of methods that have the capacity to involve in plan-making those whose cooperation is necessary for realizing the plan, as well as methods to win over the public by the use of powerful images, methods to negotiate and, if necessary, to adapt the plan accordingly, and methods to organize planmaking in such a way that commitment to it is increased. That commitment may be that of the plan-making agency or grouping itself. It also includes others whose support for the plan or whose actions in realizing policies are critical to putting policies into effect. Causes, context and consequences The institutionalist approach emphasizes the importance of the interrelation between the active work of agency in mobilizing for change and the wider context of structuring forces. The outcome of strategic plan-making activity is the result of the interrelation of

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active mobilization and structuring dynamics. We therefore set our cases in context, by specifying the pressures and preoccupations that have framed the situation of planmaking work, by identifying the “driving forces” that lie behind the pressures and the responses of those involved in strategic planning. In doing so, we have sought to distinguish endogenous and locally embedded factors from wider forces, which affect many cases. We have also commented on outcomes and consequences, with respect to both institutional and policy outcomes, in so far as it has been possible to identify them. Each case follows these headings, but with variations reflecting its particular issues and context. In writing these accounts, we have attempted to show the dynamics of the plan-making work, and what in particular constitutes an innovation. There are differences between the case accounts, due to data problems, the nature of each case and the interests of each researcher. In the space available for each case, it was not possible to go into the depth that some of the above issues would merit. But we hope to have provided, through our framework, accounts that allow local detail and differences to be conveyed while illustrating common dimensions of processes and the impact of common “driving forces” on local conditions. From providing to negotiating All our cases take place within a particular context of governance. Governance means the activities and relations through which we come together to manage matters of collective concern. The relations of governance may be coterminous with the formal institutions of government. This tended to be the case in Europe’s welfare state systems of the midtwentieth century. But these days, governance activity is sprawling out from formal government, linking in with the relations of everyday life, of productive activity and of business life. This arises as the result of the privatization, fragmentation and decentralization of many state activities, and the growth of third sector or intermediate agencies, which draws in voluntary agencies, informal community groups and all kinds of public-private partnerships. It is in this context that the term governance has come to be used, to describe this wider arena, a public or collective realm, within which formal government has become just one player. Figure 2.1 summarizes in diagrammatic form these changes in governance. In the political science literature on governance forms (see Judge et al. 1995, EspingAnderson 1990, Jessop et al. 1991) and in planning literature (Friedmann 1987, Innes 1995), there is widespread recognition of some general tendencies in these forms. In the second part of this chapter, we outline these tendencies. In Part in, we then discuss how far our cases seem to reflect them.

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Figure 2.1 Institutional trajectories for planning systems: hypotheses. The provider state The view of governance as fluid and fragmented would be unfamiliar to those who established the welfare states of mid-century western Europe. Their designs tend to reflect the principles of a clear separation of the public and private spheres. The role of government was to provide for welfare needs and to manage economic activity through managing demand and supply. The objective was both to correct the market failures evident in the recession-torn inter-war period and to ensure universal levels of service provision to support a reasonable quality of life for ordinary citizens, thus meeting the socialist critique of capitalist exploitation developed in the first part of the twentieth century. Demand management was primarily a macroeconomic activity, undertaken at national level. Welfare provision covered a range of services, from health and education, to utility services and environmental quality protection. Within Europe, these services were provided at various levels of government, depending on the particular political traditions of each country. The emphasis in the form of such provision tended to be on

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hierarchical organization, technical expertise and a one-way relationship between government and the users of the services provided (Esping-Anderson 1990). Many have argued that the welfare state aimed to transform government systems along modernist lines. The public sector, it was expected, would have the power and the resources to regulate and undertake development in such a way that it could “command” actions and “control” outcomes. Technical principles were assumed to govern its decision-making (Mannheim 1940, Jessop 1991). Within this context, spatial planning concepts and practices focused on achieving the spatial organization necessary for providing better housing for an increasingly urban population across Europe, on economic activity (particularly with respect to the organization of infrastructure and the location of industrial land), and on neighbourhood quality. Many of the spatial organizing conceptions developed in the early post-war years have persisted to this day, such as the Dutch Randstad (Faludi & Van der Valk 1994) and the British greenbelt. A side-effect was the stabilization of land and property development markets. Two traditions of planning thought helped to serve this context. One emphasized the physical design and morphology of towns. It is within this tradition, derived from the work of architects and engineers, and latterly from geographers and regional analysts, that spatial organizing conceptions were articulated. This was uneasily complemented with the principles of rational planning processes, which emphasized deductive techniques of defining objectives, conducting focused analyses, developing and evaluating strategies and monitoring them once implemented (Boyer 1983, Sager 1994, Flyvberg 1996). Both traditions stressed the role of the spatial plan in articulating spatial ordering principles. It was given such names as development plan, urban structure plan, comprehensive land-use plan, schema directeur and struktuurplan. The approaches developed were strongly rationalist and managerialist, seeking to impose new spatial orders on urban regions, cities and neighbourhoods, with the aim of meeting the anticipated needs of the new, economically more prosperous and politically fairer social “order”. The definition of “needs” and “demands” was undertaken analytically, rather than in formal discussion with either citizens or business, although there is much evidence of the informal influence of particular business interests (Castells 1977, Saunders 1980). The environment was usually treated either as a landscape backcloth for economic and social life (especially in Britain), or as a container within which activity happened, or in terms of the aesthetics of built form. Biospheric (climatological, hydrological and ecological systems) relations were largely ignored. This technical approach, in some cases strongly linked to what politicians wanted (e.g. in Spain), and in others to the interests of a corporatist consensus between government, labour and industry (as in Germany and the Netherlands), began to encounter increasing problems in the 1970s. Plans were not always followed through into action. This often led to criticism. Embodied in this critique was a recognition first, that policies and plans did not necessarily reflect needs and demands very well. Secondly, the concepts used to translate needs and demands into strategies and proposals were often open to question. Thirdly, planning agencies typically had only limited power to implement their strategies, whether through investment or through regulation. These failures of knowledge and power confronted a political reality within which organized and informal groupings of citizens and business demanded more responsiveness and a more interactive relations

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with government. The institutional capital built up within welfare states seemed increasingly inappropriate for the challenges and pressures being faced. It was in this context that the advantages of negotiative planning strategies and proposals came to be recognized. The negotiative state The change in governance to more negotiated forms has been described in recent literature as a shift from a managerial approach, suitable for welfare states in “Fordist” economies, to an entrepreneurial approach designed to foster “flexible accumulation” strategies in firms (Harvey 1989). This interpretation polarizes the shift and overemphasizes the economic dynamic. The European reality is more varied. In some cases, negotiation was in any case built into the welfare consensus. In the Netherlands and Scandinavia, negotiation and consensus-building have been long-established within the main public policy agencies (Cars 1992, Needham et al. 1993). In Germany, relations between industry, the unions and the public sector have traditionally been close, providing the archetypal example of a “corporatist state” (Schmitter 1974, Streek 1995). In France since the 1960s, public and private sectors have been formally interlinked in the land development process (the ZAC mechanism) (Acosta & Renard 1993). Elsewhere, the need to negotiate was appreciated through the problems of implementing policies, as in England and Spain. The shift to a more openly negotiative form in Europe’s planning systems reflects as much a breakdown in old certainties as it does a new “functional fit” between government machinery and economic organization. The old institutional capital locked into the forms and practices of spatial planning systems was running out of steam. The driving forces behind this breakdown were outlined in the previous chapter, and have as much to do with changes in modes of thought about social life and the environment as with economic factors. Much of the discussion on negotiative spatial planning, particularly in Britain where this shift emerged clearly in the 1970s, focused on individuals bargaining over development projects. Developers’ contributions to infrastructure and community development became a key issue in these negotiations. In the 1980s, the focus of interest shifted to joint partnerships for project promotion and other forms of participation in project development and delivery. These shifts highlighted projects rather than strategies and plans (see Ch. 1). Strategic spatial plans were still used but became collections of decision rules for use when assessing projects (Faludi 1987), or aggregations of policies for different sectors (Healey 1993), lists of proposals for development investment projects (Khakee 1989) and claims for policy attention (Mazza 1986). The policies, norms and standards contained in the plans were often ignored or overridden. Many argued that this was a desirable tendency, offering flexibility and responsiveness to the individual needs of actors. The negotiative process itself led to some social learning and the potential to generate new institutional capital. To an extent, the international move towards interpretive, interactive planning theory, with its emphasis on mutual learning, provided a conceptual legitimacy for this approach (Friedmann 1987). However, the negotiative approach, when applied at the level of projects, has major problems, as discussed in Chapter 1. It raises questions about how far the public sector actors involved have considered others, and are acting fairly and legitimately. The

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criterion of a good policy as that on which the parties involved can agree, as articulated by Lindblom (1965), promotes the interests of a narrow elite if only a few of those with a “stake” in an issue are involved in the bargain. When applied to projects, the approach is often inefficient, with high transaction costs, as bargain after bargain is struck on similar issues. In contrast, a plan-based approach focuses the bargaining on the plan and on decision categories, not on each individual project. The project-based approach also fails to pay explicit attention to the power relations within negotiation. Those with voice and resources can typically exercise more power at a bargaining table than those who lack them. Finally, the negotiative approach focuses on projects and their impacts, and on the interests of individual actors. It neglects to consider the institutional framework within which actors come to identify objectives and impacts, or the frames of reference within which they identify their specific interests in a project. The approach emphasizes interaction, but does not see the wider connotations of the institutional learning that takes place through interaction. Technical regulation or collaboration? Planning thought and practice in Europe are now reflecting two opposing directions out of these difficulties. Both are strongly influenced by political philosophy and both seek to combine a capacity for flexible proactive responsiveness directed at an “enabling” approach, with accountability. The first direction offers a retreat from interaction, substituting instead a deregulated environment to encourage market responses, combined with technical approaches to defining regulatory standards, targets and criteria for those matters that legislation defines as in need of regulation. This can be contrasted with the traditional approaches which use the plan as a store of criteria. This direction responds to an economic demand for less regulation and for more precision in the remaining regulatory requirements, and to environmentalist demands for more regulation. It focuses on law, procedure and technique. The second direction widens the interactive approach to encompass stakeholders in general, to emphasize collaborative working through which to develop the knowledge base for spatial planning. It responds to the pressure from environmentalist groups and to other social demands for more involvement in managing urban region environments. It focuses on the importance of developing strategic ideas about spatial organizing concepts and about the organizing processes for strategy-making, so as to reduce the conflict and mistrust among those involved. It thus addresses the design of processes for building the institutional capacity for knowledgeable and trusted strategy -making in “shared-power” worlds. Technical regulation The neoliberal policy agenda derives from the aim of reining back the continuous expansion of the public sector and its penetration into business and everyday life. Through direct provision and regulation, the public sector was seen to stifle initiative, to be ill informed and overly bureaucratic, and unresponsive to the needs of citizens and business. Public provision created a “dependency” culture, among both households and

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firms, and “crowded out” business opportunities that the market could provide. Administering the state also cost a great deal, and its expenditures were both inefficient and ineffective. Citizens and businesses needed to be released from this burden of regulation and bureaucracy, and from the taxation that supported it, through transferring government functions to the private sector, submitting public agencies to the discipline of proxies for market criteria, shifting expenditure from the public treasury or exchequer to the budgets of households and firms, and reducing the amount of regulation (Khakee et al. 1995). These ideas have been vigorously introduced in several European countries in the late twentieth century, notably in the UK and Denmark. They are well developed in the fields of utilities provision, education and health services, and in many local government services. It has been more difficult to work out their implication in the field of spatial planning (Sorenson 1983, Poulton 1991, Houlihan 1992). A neoliberal approach to reorganizing spatial planning systems seems to imply: • a shift from the articulation of policy frameworks whereby criteria and arguments for guiding regulatory and investment decisions are embodied in spatial plans, towards the definition of policy criteria, standards, indicators, output measures and “benchmarks” for different areas of policy concern, against which to judge project performance and monitor changing conditions • a shift from interpretive and discretionary regulation, to precise regulatory rules, as in well specified zoning regimes and environmental pollution controls, and a reduced threshold of regulation • a shift from direct development by the public sector to the provision of subsidies, managed by output and outcome evaluation measures, in order to encourage efficiency and effectiveness in resource use • a shift from the provision by the public sector of infrastructure networks and services needed for development, to the payment of contributions by developers to such provision, in cash or in kind • a shift from the resolution of conflicts by the public sector, through political processes or negotiation, to legal resolution in the courts. The result, if followed logically, would be less regulation over development but greater certainty for developers and businesses about what regulatory requirements would have to be met and how, and lower transaction costs spent in the regulatory process. Development investment would be led by private sector initiative, modified by targeted financial incentives directed by general policy criteria. The effort of spatial planning at the level of the city, subregion and region would largely disappear. The project and the articulation of standards and criteria at national and EU level would be the key arenas of policy articulation and political involvement, strongly influenced by technical expertise. Strategic spatial planmaking is of no importance in this approach. However, this approach has several inadequacies and the new interest in strategic spatial plan-making is in part a response to these (Healey 1994). First, it is not at all simple or conflict-free to specify general criteria that encapsulate all possible impacts of specific projects that might affect the public interest. Projects and their contexts are inherently variable, from type to type and location to location. Secondly, there is a great deal of mistrust of politicians and experts these days. As a result of both factors, a

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criteria-driven approach is unlikely to reduce, and may exacerbate, political conflict over development projects. Thirdly, it is the economic, social and environmental interrelations between different project impacts and their cumulative effects that concern many people. These interrelationships are not easy to identify in a criteria-driven approach. Fourthly, the approach pays no attention to the overall qualities of places, in terms of quality of life, of the business environment and of the local biosphere. Yet these are what concern many people and firms across Europe these days. Fifthly, it is not clear that the knowledge and technique of experts is sufficient to define criteria. Increasingly, the practical knowledge of people in households and firms is recognized as relevant to articulating and probing policy principles. Finally, transaction costs saved in regulatory administration may merely be transferred to the courts (as is happening increasingly in the UK and France (Houlihan 1992). It is these difficulties that are pushing even reluctant neoliberals to the collaborative approach. Collaborative consensus-building Collaborative approaches in spatial planning may take many forms. In some, there is a deep commitment to broadly based local democratic practices, as in the Netherlands and Sweden. Others represent a new way to remake technocorporatist practices, as in Spain. What unites these forms are the following qualities, which reflect the institutionalist approach outlined at the start of this chapter: • a deliberate attempt to involve key actors in articulating and implementing public policy • a recognition of the legitimate interest of a wide range of stakeholders, who have a claim to be involved in the plan-making exercise, while accepting that each has its own distinctive power bases and strategic orientations (Bryson & Crosby 1992) • a recognition of the importance of dialogue and discursive constructions of meaning in developing mutual understanding, identifying issues, developing “policy theories” and strategic ideas and proposals in ways that enhance consensus-building rather than exaggerate conflicts (Healey 1992, 1996a) • an awareness of the significance of multiple forms of knowledge and understanding, the experiential and emotive as well as technorational knowledge (Habermas 1984) • an emphasis on the role of strategic organizing ideas (ideas about appropriate processes and about spatial ordering) in “framing” subsequent actions (Rein & Schon 1993, Faludi 1996) and thereby producing coordination among the activities of diverse actors and agencies • an appreciation of the value of building up the “institutional capacity” to make strategic decisions in an urban region, through discursively developing “social, intellectual and political capital” which can be drawn upon subsequently (Amin & Thrift 1995, Innes et al. 1994). In this context, spatial plan-making regains its importance in urban region governance. Collaborative strategy-making offers a way of interlinking economic, sociocultural and environmental issues of collective concern by constructing general organizing ideas. It becomes an interactive process in which strategies and images are articulated and practices and tools are invented to carry strategies forwards. Through interaction and dialogue, participants develop understanding and ownership of the issues and ideas. This

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has the potential to reduce conflict “down-stream” of the policy articulation. This helps to generate both coordination and policy stability. Transaction costs in the discursive process may thus be saved by fewer conflicts over specific plans and projects. Many of these advantages may be achieved through narrow alliances of key players, typically in the public and business sectors. But where environmental interests are well articulated and where local citizens expect an active involvement, the requirements of political legitimacy will tend to encourage a broadly based involvement of stakeholders in order to achieve a robust policy consensus and stability. Thus, the collaborative approach values the shift to more interactive planning practices embodied in the “negotiative” model, but focuses this interaction at the level of developing strategies and frameworks, and not merely at the level of projects. Planning systems and practices The trajectory for the development of strategic spatial plan-making sketched in Figure 2.1 overgeneralizes the experience of western European countries and regions. Different countries and regions are in different positions on the chart, and may be moving in different directions (see Ch. 16). The experience of previous plan-making activity and the practices of planning systems provide a distinct institutional inheritance within which any spatial plan-making exercise will evolve. This inheritance includes the formal organizational arrangements, legal and administrative procedures and practices, the cultures of the personnel involved in realizing the planning system, and the attitudes of the various groups with an active stake in the planning process and its outcomes. Our case studies show much evidence of change, as key players move their inheritance forwards or seek to break out and go beyond it. The locus of these changes varies. Most national systems have had a good deal of legislative innovation in recent years. In some countries, there have been major changes in responsibilities, because of decentralization or the introduction of new tools and political priorities. In some regions, the major changes are in the agenda of policy issues and strategic direction. In others, the search is for practices that involve different actors in new ways. The result is a substantial diversity in the adaptations and innovations taking place. We return in Part in to describe this diversity and draw out general patterns. References and further reading Acosta, R. & V.Renard 1993. Urban land and property markets in France. London: UCL Press. Amin, A. & N.Thrift 1995. Globalisation, institutional “thickness” and the local economy in Managing cities, P. Healey, S.J.Cameron, S.Davoudi, A.Graham, A.Madanipour (eds), 91–108. Chichester, England: John Wiley. Boyer, C. 1983. Dreaming the rational city. Cambridge, Massachusetts: MIT Press. Bryson, J. & B.Crosby 1992. Leadership in the common good: tackling public problems in a shared power world. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Cars, G. 1992. Negotiations between private and public actors in urban development. Stockholm: Royal Institute of Technology. Castells, M. 1977. The urban question. London: Edward Arnold.

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Clegg, S. 1990. Modern organizations. London: Sage. Esping-Anderson, G. 1990. The three worlds of welfare capitalism. Cambridge: Polity Press. Faludi A. 1987. A decision-centred view of environmental planning. Oxford: Pergamon. —1996. Framing with images. Environment and Planning B 23, 93–108. Faludi, A. & A.Van der Valk 1994. Rule and order: Dutch planning doctrine in the twentieth century. Dordrecht: Kluwer. Flyvberg, B. 1996. Rationality and power. Aldershot, England: Avebury. Friedmann J. 1987. Planning in the public domain. Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press. Giddens A. 1984. The constitution of society. Cambridge: Polity Press. Habermas, J. 1984. The theory of communicative action, vol. 1. London: Heinemann. Hambleton, R. & H.Thomas (eds) 1995. Urban policy evaluation. London: Chapman & Hall. Harvey D. 1989. From managerialism to entrepreneurialism: formation of urban governance in late capitalism. Geografisker Annaler 71B, 3–17. Healey P. 1992. Planning through debate: the communicative turn in planning theory. Town Planning Review 63(2), 143–62. —1993. The communicative work of development plans. Environment and Planning B 20(1), 9– 20. —1994. Development plans, new approaches to making frameworks for land-use regulation. European Planning Studies 2(1), 38–58. —1996. The argumentative turn in planning theory and its implications for strategic spatial planning. Environment and Planning B 23(2), 217–34. —1997. Collaborative planning: shaping places in fragmented societies. London: Macmillan. Healey, P., S.Cameron, S.Davoudi, S.Graham, A.Madani Pour (eds) 1995. Managing cities: the new urban context. Chichester: John Wiley. Houlihan, B. (ed.) 1992. The challenge of public works management: a comparative study of North America, Japan and Europe. Brussels: International Institute of Administrative Sciences. Innes, J. 1995. Planning theory’s emerging paradigm: communicative action and interactive practice. Journal of Planning Education and Research 14(3), 183–90. Innes J., J.Gruber, R.Thompson, M.Neuman 1994. Coordinating growth and environmental management through consensus-building. Report to the California Policy Seminar (May 1994), Department of City and Regional Planning, University of California, Berkeley. Jessop, B. 1991. The welfare state in the transition from Fordism to Post-Fordism. In Jessop et al. (1991:82–104). Jessop, B., H.Kastendiek, K.Nielsen, I.K.Pedersen (eds) 1991. The politics of flexibility: restructuring state and industry in Britain, Germany and Scandinavia. Cheltenham: Edward Elgar. Judge, D., G. Stoker, H.Wolman (eds) 1995. Theories of urban politics. London: Sage. Khakee, A. 1989. Trends and problems in Swedish urban planning. Working paper, Centre for Regional Science (CERUM), University of Umea. Khakee, A., I. Elander, S.Sunnesson 1995. Remaking the welfare state. Aldershot: Avebury. Lindblom, C.E. 1965. The intelligence of democracy. New York: Free Press. Mannheim, K. 1940. Man and society in an age of reconstruction: studies in modern social structure. London: Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner. Mazza L. 1986. Giustificazione e autonomia. Urbanistica 82, 56–63. Needham, B., P.Koenders, B.Krujt 1993. Urban land and property markets in the Netherlands. London: UCL Press. Poulton, M. 1991. The case for a positive theory of planning. Environment and Planning B 18, 263–75. Powell, W.W. & P.J.Dimaggio 1991. The new institutionalism in organizational analysis. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

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Rein, M. & D.Schon 1993. Refraining policy discourse. In The argumentative turn in policymaking and planning, F. Fischer & J. Forester (eds), 145–66. Durham, North Carolina: Duke University Press. Sager, T. 1994. Communicative planning theory. Aldershot: Avebury. Saunders, P. 1980. Urban politics: a sociological interpretation. Harmondsworth: Penguin. Schmitter P. 1974. Still the century of corporatism. Review of Politics 36, 85–131. Sorenson, A. 1983. Towards a market theory of planning. The Planner 69(3), 78–80. Streek, W. 1995. The German social market economy. Paper presented at conference: “A Comparative Study of the Systems of Market Economy and Land Ownership/use”, East-West Centre, University of Hawaii, August. Vanderplaat, M. 1995. Beyond technique: issues in evaluating for empowerment. Evaluation 1(1), 81–96.

Appendix: the pro-forma The context A brief statement of: • territorial context (location, in country, in Europe) • economic and social context • environmental issues • political-institutional context (including what is absolutely necessary about planning powers and procedures) • key agencies involved The case What is the case about? Why is the case innovative? In what way does it represent a change to established ways of doing things? Does it represent an “invention”, a reorganization to adapt better to new conditions, or an attempt to “transform” established ways of doing things? The institutional relations of plan-making What are the key arenas of institutional innovation • new alliances and networks • new arenas for policy articulation • new ways of thinking (mentality, culture) Are new actors getting involved, and in what ways, through what processes, e.g.: • processes of coordination and consensus-building • processes of translating policies into actions How are planners being used, and what is required of them

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Policy agendas • Policy agendas: What are the main preoccupations? How different are they to previous agendas and to agendas common elsewhere in the country? • Policy articulation: How far are policy “fields” linked together (e.g. land for housing, transport, environmental protection, etc.); or are fields very “sectoralized”; what are the key links and connections being made; are these different from “traditional” ways? • Spatial organizing ideas: What are the key organizing ideas? What do these “highlight” (e.g. economic competition; position in Europe, etc.)? What concepts of space do they embody? What levels of space do they focus on (local, region, nation, Europe, global?)? How different are they to previous ideas? • Temporal horizons: Short? Long? Different for different policies? How is time conceived: as an endpoint to be reached; or as a temporal dynamic? • Policy discourses (bringing it all together!): What are the key policy theories (about cause and effect; storylines, images, metaphors), underlying the policy agendas? (A discourse could be seen as a vocabulary for making sense of the agendas). How different are these to what has gone before? Methods • Responding to context: How/what were plan-making methods/approaches chosen in relation to context? How different were these to what had gone before? • Organizing/mobilizing for plan-making: What strategies were used to generate interest, commitment, coordination, consensus etc? • Informing; developing the base of knowledge and understanding: Was this important: How was this done? Technical production? GIS? Citizen involvement? Key actors discussion, etc.? • Analyzing, appraising, evaluating: When were such techniques used? And which techniques did people find helpful. • Presentation: How were planning ideas presented? How was the plan itself encapsulated in “the plan”? • Policy and action: What methods, etc., were used to try to link developing policies to investment and regulatory actions? • The role of planners: What roles did they play/positions did they occupy? What expertise was sought from them (and did they have it!)? What methodological “gaps” were discovered? How far were participants inventing new methods and approaches? How far were they held back by old ones? Consequences Provide a brief comment on consequences (or: impacts/effects), both for the case itself, (e.g. in institutional changes, achievement of policy outcomes, learning new methods); and, in terms of institutional learning, how far the case has become a model elsewhere.

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The driving forces of innovation • What are the main factors pushing the innovation? • How far are these local, endogenous to the case, and how far are they exogenous (e.g. shifts in professional culture, EU policy, changing economic positions in Europe/internationally, international sociocultural shifts, e.g. environmental awareness; changing life-styles).

PART II

CHAPTER THREE A plan of hope and glory An example of development planning in Denmark after Maastricht Ib Jørgensen, Finn Kjærsdam, Jan Nielsen In this chapter, we relate the history and planning process of the most ambitious urban planning project in modern times in Denmark’s capital city, Copenhagen. The focus of our account is the Ørestad, a new city extension, which it is hoped will bring glory and prosperity to Copenhagen and Denmark. However, its actual rationale is infrastructural and financial. We shall try to demonstrate that, in the process, several innovations have been introduced into Danish spatial and urban planning. We argue that these innovations in planning procedures could be seen as diverse reactions to the fact that, as of January 1992, the Danish system of planning laws was streamlined and in some respects significantly changed. Our further allegation is that some of these changes were induced by the gradual build-up of a European spatial planning policy, so far epitomized by the Europe 2000 document (CEC 1992) and its recently published update, Europe 2000+ (CEC 1995), and legally introduced with article 130 S, item 2 of the Maastricht Treaty. This case thus illustrates the innovation of a project planning approach in an institutional context characterized by a well established, broadly based, consensus-building approach to spatial planning. It raises the question as to what extent such major projects will eventually lead to a”fast-track” approach potentially undermining an advanced and democratic planning culture. The context The Copenhagen (metropolitan) region is the largest urban area in Denmark, with 1.7 million inhabitants, one third of the nation’s population. Within 2860km2, the region comprises three counties with fifty municipalities, plus the special regions of Copenhagen and Frederiksberg, each its own municipality and regional authority, Frederiksberg being “landlocked” within the city of Copenhagen. Greater Copenhagen consists of the municipalities of Copenhagen, Frederiksberg and 19 surrounding municipalities (population 1.1 million in 623km2). Copenhagen municipality (the City of Copenhagen) has 465000 inhabitants in an area of 88km2. In 1950 the population peaked at 768000. During the 1960s and 1970s, a process of de-industrialization took place, leaving Copenhagen as a centre mainly for central administration, finance and services. For many years the public finances of the city have been strained because of out-migration of taxpayers to the provinces and the more wealthy environs to the north, resulting in a

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relative concentration of low-income families and citizens with social problems in the city itself. Since 1970, the city has had to finance many of its activities through loans and it is now heavily in debt. The mayor of Copenhagen has constantly been appealing to the central government and Parliament to help Copenhagen out of its financial crisis. For various reasons, including the objective mentioned below of equal development throughout the country, coupled with a considerable reluctance on the part of members of Parliament from the western parts of the nation (especially what has been called “the Jutlandic Mafia”), the political will to do something about Copenhagen’s dire situation was absent. However, as the realities of the new European situation, and especially the consequences of the internal European market and the Maastricht treaty, started to dawn on politicians and other elites in Denmark, it was realized that, in order to compete in the future Europe, Denmark would have to boost Copenhagen, its only candidate for a metropole that would be able somehow to compete with the powerful competitors on the European mainland. But the funding was not there, neither nationally nor locally. Alternative ideas and solutions had therefore to be sought. As part of a modernization and streamlining of various planning laws from the beginning of the 1970s, a new planning law came into force in January 1992, in which the hitherto national objective of equal development was abandoned and replaced with that of appropriate development. With this change in objective, the door had been opened for a new approach to national planning. This, at least, is how the law was interpreted by politicians from all quarters. The conservative prime minister, Poul Schlüter, spearheaded a campaign that would unite the nation in an attempt to invigorate growth in the Copenhagen region in general, and in the city of Copenhagen in particular. This campaign culminated in a daylong debate in the Danish parliament, the “Debate on the Capital”, in which politicians of most shades and geographical origins uncompromisingly subscribed to the desirability of promoting Copenhagen as Denmark’s European number one city. As we shall try to demonstrate in the following case, this parliamentary debate has been effective as an influential political symbol and manifestation. The most spectacular and undoubtedly the most consequential outcome of the entire “Boost-Copenhagen” campaign was the decision to ally with the Swedish government in order to guarantee the financing of the construction of a link across Øresund, the strait between Denmark and Sweden. Against the widespread and continuing protest, it was decided to build a combined car-rail bridge-cumtunnel, which would surface on the Danish side just to the south of Copenhagen, on the island of Amager next to Kastrup, where the international airport of Copenhagen is located. Eventually this link is supposed to be supplemented by a link across the Fehmar Belt, between Denmark and Germany, thus creating an interstate highway connecting Norway and Sweden via Denmark to the European mainland—and market. In order to grasp the innovative aspects of the case, it is necessary to sketch very roughly the form and substance of the Danish planning law system and its recent changes.

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A brief outline of the Danish planning system After administrative reforms in the 1970s, Denmark was divided into 14 counties and 275 municipalities, plus the special regions of Copenhagen and Frederiksberg.1 In correspondence with this, three spatially defined tiers of government—the national, the regional and the municipal levels—were made responsible for national, regional and municipal planning respectively. National planning has mainly consisted of planning for infrastructure and issuing national planning directives for preservation of coastal areas and, latterly, environmental protection. An important instrument is also the so-called Landsplanredegørelse, the National Planning Report, a policy document issued by the government. According to the old planning law, the government was obliged to issue such a document once a year. In the revised law this has been changed, so that today it is only after the formation of a new government that such a national planning statement has to be issued. The most recent version was issued in 1992 as a National Spatial Planning Perspective, Landsplanperspektiv, with the title Denmark towards the year 2018. In many ways this document was a follow-up of the Europe 2000 report issued by the regional directorate of the Commission for the European Union (EU). The Danish document has the character of a vision of Denmark’s likely development within the EU and contains advice to counties, municipalities and the private sector regarding how they should plan in the future. It seems to command cross-party support, and seems likely to survive changes of government. Regional planning was expected to lay down guidelines for the exploitation of natural resources and protection of the environment, planning for some infrastructure, hospitals and high schools, and, importantly, for regulating the urban pattern. Regional bodies were in charge of, and responsible for, cities of a certain size and with fixed minima of services (health service, schools, public administration, retailing and so on) judged to be important to citizens’ quality of life. This last function was considerably weakened in the new planning law of 1992. Municipal planning, broadly speaking, is responsible for everything else on an autonomous basis, that is, without having to refer to the national and regional levels, as long as general procedures and guidelines are observed. It is fair to say that this is the level where most of Danish development planning and plan-making takes place. Spatial planning at the municipal level involves the preparation of a structure plan for the entire municipality, and local plans/frameworks within the various areas delineated in structure plans. The structure plan is passed by the municipality, and it is obligatory for the municipality to follow it, but it has no legally binding effect vis-à-vis the citizens. However, this is the case with respect to local plans, which legally delimit the use of the area to purposes as stipulated in the plan, thus considerably circumscribing property rights. 1. The smallest county comprises 5 municipalities, the largest 32. Besides being separate municipalities, the central cities of Copenhagen and Frederiksberg (the latter an enclave encapsulated in the city of Copenhagen) have their own regional status, meaning that they are not subordinate to a county.

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For a relatively short period, from 1973 to 1990, a metropolitan council, a special organization mandated by law, was responsible for regional planning in the Copenhagen (metropolitan) region (see above). However, because of increasing political disunity between the various counties and municipalities making up this region, the law was repealed and the council dissolved by parliamentary decision in 1990. “A considerable step backwards in Danish planning” (Larsson & Thomassen 1991:48). By 1995, a new committee had been formed with the task of proposing and examining possibilities of establishing a new and more adequate system of governance for this large and important region. Planning practice As the municipality in Denmark is responsible for the delivery of all social services (except universities, hospitals, high schools and other institutions run by national or regional authorities), it is evident that physical planning has to be and can be integrated with the planning of other sectors. As a consequence, the Danish town planning system has become highly politicized and characterized by a high degree of decentralization and public participation. The plans are prepared by the municipality, often in cooperation with landowners, developers and other interested parties. After publication, a statutory public inspection and debate follows, often leading to amendments and changes, concluded by a final decision in the City Council. After this decision, all new developments have to be in accordance with the plan. There is no system of “hearings”, or “complaints”. No superior authorities need to approve the plan and there is no procedure through which higher-level authorities can override local decisions on plans, except in special cases. On the other hand, there is no planning permission either. A landowner has the right to develop his land according to the plan, without asking any planning authority for permission, but of course he often needs other permissions, such as building permits, which must comply with the plans. This Danish planning system has become a very efficient instrument in contributing to the expansion and installation of the Danish universal welfare system (with identical taxfinanced and mainly publicly delivered social rights for all citizens). This has become even more so since originally it was explicitly stated in the “old” planning law from 1973 that one of its objectives would be to contribute to an equal (even) development of the country, something it actually did with considerable success (Jørgensen & Tonboe 1992). Apart from insignificant differences in income, level of unemployment and so on and thanks to a system of financial transfers to “poorer” municipalities from the more affluent ones, practically no regional imbalance worth mentioning exists in Denmark, a fact recognized in a recent government document concerning regional policy in Denmark. Denmark is characterized by being one of the richest countries in Europe and in a European context a country without big regional differences… The differences between rich and poor regions are less than in any other country in Europe… No other country has such a small regional spread in unemployment as Denmark. (Erhvervsministeriet 1995:126; our translation).

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It is this rather fortunate situation that may now have come under stress because of the recent changes in the planning law, which may be seen again as a consequence of a broader shift in national policies towards development. As already mentioned, the principle of “equal” (or balanced) development has been replaced with the objective of “appropriate” development. This is a more flexible principle, which is more readily open to interpretation. Furthermore, regional authorities have been deprived of part of their responsibility for regulating urban development within their regions, opening up the possibilities for municipalities to plan and develop more aggressively without consideration of the regional balance. Furthermore, the government has recently followed up this more lenient attitude towards regional planning by allowing individual municipalities to enter into alliances with each other in order to solve more effectively some of the many tasks with which they are charged, such as waste disposal and social services. All this, of course, is supplemented by the ever-present appeal to privatization of as many public activities as possible. As a consequence, we have seen a flurry of such alliances being proposed and established. Much of this is also inspired by various EU initiatives, which explicitly advocate and remunerate municipal alliances across Europe (Williams 1993). It remains to be seen what consequences this may have for the above-mentioned municipal autonomy, but our first vague impressions are that this development may very well lead to a side-tracking of the citizens and thus a decline in the budding elements of participatory democracy introduced since the 1970s. This we see partly as a result of the attempts to bring the Danish planning system in line with the contours of the broader European planning philosophy. But it should not be forgotten that, to a very large extent, this latter philosophy, as well as many of the additional motives for changes in the Danish system, derives more or less directly from perturbations caused by the increasing globalization of the capitalist economy. As such, this development might also be seen as parallel to, for instance, the British planning situation, with its shift from strategic and plan-led planning and development in the 1970s to an emphasis on market-led approaches in the 1980s (see Ch. 8). The case2 The birth of the Ørestad On 19 June 1992, the last day in session before the summer recess, the Danish Folketing (Parliament) passed a law that may be described as a major innovation in Danish urban planning. Sidestepping traditional planning methods and circumventing already democratically decided planning decisions at lower levels (county, municipality), the Danish state ordained that a new extension of medieval Copenhagen be developed on the 2. The case is based on documentary research and intensive interviews with key persons involved, including the three members of the Würtzen-secretariat (see below) and representatives of the Copenhagen City Council and its municipal planning directorate. A substantial part of the data collection and interviewing has been carried out by former graduate students Bo Gammelgaard, Emil Raun (Gammelgaard & Raun 1994) and Charlotte Gunnarsen (Gunnarsen 1994), who have all finalized theses on the Ørestad. We are grateful to them for permission to use their material.

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island of Amager. The law had been proposed to the Folketing in May 1991 and again in October of that year and on the latter occasion its proposer, the Minister of Finance Henning Dyremose (Conservative) had said: If we dare not seize the opportunity now that Denmark is on the threshold of a new economic upswing and, when the contours of a new Europe are being created, the result may be that the development will by-pass Copenhagen and Denmark. The opportunity will not come back, [our translation]. The urban extension as described in the law is supposed to consist of the erection of buildings for high-quality office space (banking, finance, information), public and educational institutions and some light high-tech industry. Some residential housing is also proposed. According to the plan now put forward, it is not uncertain what amount of housing is being proposed. What is uncertain is whether it will be constructed. The site for this development is a tie-shaped stretch of land running north to south, approximately 0.5km in width and about 6.0km long, roughly 300ha, situated between an area to the east with low-density residences (lower-middle and middle class), institutions and non-residential allotment garden cottages. To the west is a flat landfill area, part having been used as a garbage dump, which is now being prepared for park and other recreational purposes (see Fig. 3.1). The key issues The land in question is owned partly by the state (that is, the national government) and partly by the municipality of Copenhagen. The proceeds of the sale of land for the above purposes and some of the accruing property taxes have been ear-marked for financing the construction of some badly needed additions to the transport infrastructure of the Copenhagen region, especially a new subway under the harbour linking densely populated parts of Amager to central Copenhagen. Part of this new infrastructure will serve the new city annex, the ØRESTAD. The estimated cost for the needed new infrastructure in the early 1990s was about 5600 million Danish kroner (almost 1000 million ECU). To raise sufficient funds to cover this cost, it has been calculated that it will be necessary to sell land sufficient for the construction of 75000 m2 per year for a period of 25 to 30 years, resulting in a new urban agglomeration covering well above 3 million m2. The estimated sale price of this land has been set at 2000 Danish kroner per m2. The practical execution of the building of the new infrastructure, the detailed planning of the new urban area (through an international architectural competition decided in November 1994) and the sale of the land has been placed in the hands of an autonomous development company, the ØRESTAD Company (Ørestadsselskabet), jointly owned by the state (45 %) and the municipality of Copenhagen (55%). The law entitles the state and the municipality of Copenhagen to act as guarantors for the loans that this company will have to raise in order to start building the new infrastructure. This work was started in 1995.

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Figure 3.1 The Ørestad project: the original plan. Urban planning innovations There are several innovative aspects to this case as far as physical planning and political decision-making are concerned. It is, as far as we know, the first time that the state and a single municipality have combined in order to establish a mutual project of this size. It is fair to say that in this case it is the national state that has dictated a plan for a major development in one particular municipality. The plan, if implemented according to

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intentions, will be of the utmost consequence not only at the local level, but also at the regional and even national level. We would surmise that an entirely new role for the state vis-à-vis local physical planning has been initiated. A recent structure plan for the Copenhagen county and the Copenhagen municipality did not consider any development on the area in question. As a planner from the office in the Copenhagen planning directorate responsible for precisely that part of the city said: It was a blank area on the map. It almost had the status of Frederiksberg municipality, you knew it was there, but you never visited it and there were no plans for it. [our translation] In its train, this new plan-making procedure has had some innovative sideeffects. It has meant a de facto circumvention of the traditional planning process and hierarchy, for instance side-tracking almost entirely the regional authorities and even the Copenhagen municipal planning directorate. On the policy content side, the case is innovative, at least in our Danish con-text, in that it demonstrates the belief in a new vision of how our societies and their large cities are likely to develop in the future. Its perspective of growth is new compared to the past 30 years of planning ideology in Denmark. Instead of national and regional planning for growth, a new ideology is taking shape, which leaves it to hybrid and ad hoc entities to join forces and try to engender growth on whatever preconditions, real or imagined, may be at hand. In the process, established centres of authority and responsibility are being undermined, or their powers are being delegated to new institutions and alliances. There are also innovations with regard to planning methods, albeit of a rather negative kind. It is extremely difficult to localize aspects of any of the more traditional planning methods and techniques in physical planning, perhaps because so far no proper planning agency, even in the most liberal sense of the term, has been involved in the plan-making process. The institutional relations of plan-making Several institutions, with their particular motives and actions, paved the way for the final plan-making exercise resulting in the Ørestad plan. Since 1980, the municipality of Copenhagen has experienced a steady deterioration in its situation (job losses, growing social problems and responsibilities, growing problems in private and collective transportation, growing financial deficits, and so on) and has put a consistent and mounting pressure on the state to help it out of this situation. In 1989, the Ministry of the Environment in its National Planning Report introduced the objective of “appropriate multiplicity” instead of “equality” as the future main motive in physical planning regionally and nationally. Already in the early 1980s, because of the economic recession and changing industrial structures, a more reluctant attitude towards planning had emerged in Denmark. It was thought that planning did not go well with the emerging patterns and policies of so-called post-Fordist, flexible production, deregulation, privatization and economic efficiency. The need for strategic overall planning was subdued but not eradicated. Then, in the late 1980s, with warmer economic

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winds blowing and increasing international integration, planning was revived, but now with different aims. The 1989 National Planning Report opened with a chapter rhetorically captioned “Is Denmark skewed?”. The very first lines stated: The government is of the opinion that future regional development in Denmark must be seen in an international perspective… Those regional differences, real or potential, which we may find in Denmark, will have to be seen in relation to differences and imbalances existing in Europe and the world, [our translation]. After a short description of the regional situation it is concluded: The government is of the opinion that the development has outrun the national planning objective of equality of earlier days. The future lodestar for regional policy will be multiplicity. We must emphasize making optimal use of the development potentials of the regions of the nation in order to strengthen Denmark’s international position. In January 1990, an agreement was reached on the economic strategy of the Danish State Railways (DSB) between six political parties, which had a solid majority in parliament. This agreement stipulated that a comprehensive plan for investment in new transport infrastructure and its financing in the Copenhagen region should be made. A committee with this mandate was appointed, headed by a representative from the Ministry of Finance, namely its administrative chief, Hans Würtzen. This Würtzen Committee (as it came to be called) was made up of public employees from various ministries and the counties and some municipalities of the Copenhagen region. It was mandated to finish its report by 1 April 1991. On 6 March 1990, the Würtzen Committee convened for the first time. Two subcommittees, one for transport and one for financial problems, were formed and a general secretariat appointed. The leading members of this secretariat came to be the chairpersons from the subcommittees, a representative from DSB based in the Ministry of Transportation and the Ministry of Finance respectively. A third leading member of the secretariat was a high-ranking and newly appointed planner from the planning directorate of the municipality of Copenhagen. He came from a position as a regional planner in the now abolished Metropolitan Council (Hovedstadsrådet). A few days later, on 20 March, the conservative Prime Minister, Poul Schlüter, presented a statement of intentions to the Folketing (Parliament) on the future of Copenhagen. The ensuing debate on the capital demonstrated broad political unanimity regarding strengthening the position of Copenhagen. The Folketing mandated the government to enter a binding agreement with the Swedish government on the construction of a combined rail-road link between Sweden and Denmark, the Øresund Link. As an explicit consequence of this debate, the Würtzen Committee immediately decided to expand its mandate to include the possible contributions of the new transport infrastructure to further growth and development of business and industry in

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Copenhagen. In the words of the member of the secretariat from DSB, speaking about the debate in parliament: It became an essential issue in the committee’s work. Already at that time, the beginning of April, the committee realized that it would have to take into consideration that the Folketing had agreed that something would have to happen and negotiations about the Øresund-link should start. So, instead of debating holes in the air, whether a link would be built or not, which is quite decisive for the traffic situation in the Copenhagen region, we took it up as a premise. It is not in the original mandate, but we add it on as a mandate to ourselves, because it would be absurd not to take it into consideration, now that the Folketing has announced it and at the same time has expressed that the stakes should be raised for something to happen in Copenhagen. So, it became part of the mandate, that besides looking at transport investments, we should come up with suggestions regarding the furthering of growth in Copenhagen and we should also take it as a premise for our work that a link across the Øresund would be built, [our translation] In February 1991, a few weeks before its deadline, the three members of the secretariat had not yet been able to find a satisfactory solution to the financing of the new infrastructure, the plans for which were now almost complete. Normally, such financing would be the responsibility of the state, that is, the Ministry of Finance and/or the Ministry of Transportation. However, it had been an explicit precondition for the committee that, whatever solutions it might end up with, they would have to be selffinancing. At this late hour, the representative in the secretariat from the municipality of Copenhagen pulled out the rabbit from the hat. He pointed to the fact that, at the cost of an extra 200–300 million Danish kroner, it would be possible to expand the planned infrastructure to comprise the vacant stretch of land on Amager, owned jointly by the state and the municipality of Copenhagen. The proceeds from the sale of this land for commercial purposes would then be able to finance the totality of new infrastructure needed. The two other members of the secretariat were awe-struck. The representative from the Ministry of Finance saw two great advantages in the scheme. First, a solution had been found to the requirement for self-financing of the plan. Secondly, and perhaps of greater importance, a precedence would have been established for local communities to partake of this kind of infrastructural financing, traditionally the sole responsibility of the state. The representative from the DSB could finally see the light at the end of the train-tunnel under the harbour, which the DSB had coveted for more than 20 years. And the planner from Copenhagen had succeeded in reviving and perhaps materializing an old dream of former and present leaders of the municipality of Copenhagen, including his own boss, the head of the Planning Directorate, the dream of the Ørestad—a considerable expansion of the city of Copenhagen on Amager. Before discussing this brand new idea with the Würtzen Committee at large, the three members of the secretariat presented it to the heads of their respective institutions; the Minister of Finance, the Minister of Transportation and the chief mayor of Copenhagen. Since the whole scheme seemingly corroborated the realism and rationale behind the

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Folketing’s and the government’s decision to build the Øresund Link, it was little wonder that all three were enthused and fully in support of the plan. At this point in time, however, the media somehow became informed and the members of the secretariat had to rush through the presentation to the committee at large to prevent its members from learning about their own plan in the newspapers before they themselves had seen and decided upon it. On 22 March 1991, the Würtzen Committee concluded its work and published its report. The report had three minority statements: • A joint minority statement from the counties of Copenhagen, Frederiksberg (to the north) and Roskilde (to the west) saying that the Würtzen Committee has not produced a comprehensive plan for prioritization and financing of the necessary investments in transport in the Copenhagen region, which amounts to a strengthening of collective transport, [our translation] • A minority statement from the county of Copenhagen criticizing the presumptions and suggestions of the report at large, especially the absence of regional considerations and also the formal operation of the committee. • A minority statement from the Copenhagen Public Transport Company (Hovedstadens Trafikselskab), in general venting the same criticism as the first and adding a critique of the new mechanism of co-financing by local interests. The plan had not yet been formally brought to the attention of the political body responsible for urban planning in Copenhagen, namely the City Council. Now, however, it was laid before the council for acceptance. Whatever opposition existed (which, to be fair, was limited) was met with the rejoinder that since the Folketing had passed the law it would also be able to issue a national planning directive to carry through the plan. But, as our informant, still a member of the council, told us: Within a month we had to decide on one of the largest projects in the history of urban planning in Copenhagen. I would say that it was a dictate to say “yes” or “no”, particularly to say “yes”…the majority was there, because in the Folketing the social democrats and the bourgeois parties had voted together and they had it moved in the city council as well, [our translation] On 31 May 1991, the Folketing passed a new Planning Law effective from 1 January 1992. The official objective of national and regional planning was changed from equality to appropriateness. In 1992, the EC Commission, DGXVI, published its Europe 2000 programme (CEC 1992) emphasizing, among other issues, the role of large urban agglomerations in future growth in the community. Shortly after this the Ministry of the Environment in its national planning perspective , Denmark på vej mod or 2018 (Denmark towards the year 2018), adapted to the Europe 2000 document and the new Danish planning law. It also explicitly incorporated the Øresund Link and the Ørestad. It envisages Copenhagen as the new Europole in Scandinavia, centre of the new Øresund region. Finally, on 19 June 1992 the Folketing passed the law on the Ørestad, introduced and drafted by the Ministry of Finance, by and large in exact accordance with the recommendations of the Würtzen Committee.

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Commentary In the above account of the main stages in the institutional interplay leading to the plans of the Ørestad, we have incorporated seemingly extraneous and non-participating agents. Our purpose in doing so has been to argue that, in order to understand fully the changes in policies and attitudes, one has to take into consideration a subtle, or not so subtle, change in what may be called the Zeitgeist of politics in general and planning in particular. We suggest that traditional institutions, ideologies and theories of urban and development planning have gradually been sidetracked and supplemented by new actors and agents, namely those who are able to unite and coalesce around some specific scheme, which is supposed to further a variety of disparate objectives, which the parties involved do not necessarily hold in common. Some of the cement that holds such alliances together and enables them to have their plans brought to life can be of a very immaterial nature: perceived needs for activity of some kind; a feeling that opportunities are out there, which must be grasped before it is too late; an urge to paper over a negative situation with manifestations of optimism and hope and so on. Other motivations are more straightforwardly practical or opportunistic, to get something for nothing, or at least for less. Finally, and not to be forgotten, the parties also include the serious, and well meaning and idealistic urban planner who may hope that something good will materialize eventually, in spite of the unorthodox procedures. One urban analyst has described the situation like this: The notion of the Øresund Link and the Ørestad may well be old and well known. In my opinion, however, it does not surface after a long and arduous planning process, but suddenly the potentialities for its realization are there as a result of a contingent interplay between various ad hoc groups and autonomous entities. In this process visions and images are staged, which apparently can be realized surprisingly fast in a brutal and authoritarian manner. In contradistinction, we also have a situation of uncertainty and unpredictability (Thomsen 1994). And a political scientist has specifically commented on the role of the Ministry of Finance: Increasingly the ministries are descending on each others’ areas of responsibility. An illustration is the crudeness with which the Ministry of Finance involved itself in the Ørestad project without being restrained by the ministry’s lack of understanding of urban planning (Knudsen 1995)

Policy agendas Until recently3 practically all public infrastructure in Denmark has been financed by the 3. In Denmark, there have been many private railroads, of which a few still persist.

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state, meaning that the Folketing has passed laws mandating the relevant ministries, local authorities and their agencies to use public revenues (taxes) or take up loans to create, construct and buy the necessary structure and equipment. It was never a requirement, although sometimes a vain wish, that such infrastructure could in any way be selffinancing, either in construction or in operation. It has always been understood, more or less reluctantly, that in order to have satisfactory public transport, a certain injection of tax money was unavoidable. This principle seems to have been broken with the Ørestad Law. Through this law the Ørestad Corporation has been mandated to construct and operate a new subway at the cost of 5000–7000 million Danish kroner. In October 1995, the corporation decided to opt for a so-called mini-metro, the construction of which started in 1996. (By December 1995, this decision was being reviewed in the Folketing in connection with an amendment to the law, and was being criticized by several parties in the Folketing). According to the law, the corporation is entitled to take up loans on the international markets. The Danish state and the municipality of Copenhagen act as guarantors for these loans. It is estimated that the new subway will start operating around the year 2000. The subway will be operated by the Ørestad Corporation. The time horizon for the sale of land in the Ørestad area is 30–50 years. This means that it is very uncertain if and when the Ørestad Corporation will be able to start paying back the loans. It may very well be that the state and Copenhagen will have to do that. In our introduction, we hinted at a certain discrepancy between rhetoric and real motives in some of the strategic planning thought of today. This project is an example of a limited conception of strategic planning. We have come across the perception that some of the parties instrumental in supporting and bringing about the Ørestad-plan have done this with the sole aim of having the infrastructural improvements (the new subway) brought into reality. They appear to care very little about the financial aspects of the venture. Representatives of the municipality of Copenhagen are of the opinion that eventually the state will have to foot the bill, since the city council was more or less coerced into accepting the scheme. There are also mixed feelings about the situation with regard to the infrastructure itself, and particularly public transportation in the Copenhagen region. The establishment of the new semi-private Ørestad Corporation as a supplier of public transport means that, together with the Copenhagen Public Transport Company and the Danish State Railways, there will be three different organizations involved in public transport in the region. This has already given cause for debate concerning the status of the new subway. Will it be, or ought it to be, accessible for operation by one or both of the other companies? And how, generally, will the new patterns of competition between these three organizations influence the overall economy and efficiency of collective transportation in the region? It is also suspected that the eastern leg of the proposed system, intended to serve the most populous part of Amager, will never be constructed, thus breaking with an important part of the rationale behind the scheme.

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Methods So far, the introduction of the Ørestad itself in the overall planning situation of Copenhagen and its region has not involved any proper planning method. The Würtzen committee, of course, in order to argue for its suggestions for the new mini-metro lines (originally labelled “light rail”), had to present some estimates as to the future collective transport situation in the region. To this effect they established three scenarios with regard to the development in the number of jobs: a situation of stagnation, a scattered growth situation, and a centralized growth situation. The committee found that it was the centralized growth scenario that would be the most efficient in relation to new transport infrastructure and the new Ørestad was introduced as the built-in guarantee that the centralized growth would actually materialize. Our conversations with planners from the Copenhagen planning directorate revealed that many adjacent planning problems have not been taken into consideration and it is not too premature to envisage difficult problems when concrete local plans for the Ørestad area have to be fitted in with the neighbourhoods and the region at large. The special Ørestad Law mandated the Ørestad Corporation to prepare an overall plan for the area, using as background material the various proposals from the architectural competition, especially, of course, the winning projects. In connection with these, the corporation arranged an exhibition of models and plans showing these projects and two public meetings have been held, with the objective of informing residents of the adjacent areas in particular, and residents of Copenhagen in general, about the plans. This overall plan was completed by the Ørestad Corporation in July 1995 (Fig. 3.2). In the second half of 1995 it was accepted by the municipality of Copenhagen as an integrated addendum to its general structure plan for the municipality at large. After that, the municipality, according to the planning law, presented the plan to the public to initiate a public debate in early 1996. The overall plan produced by the Ørestad Corporation in many ways departs from the original ideas and the prizewinning projects of the architectural competition. In order to secure acceptance from two influential opponents of the Ørestad, Danmarks Naturfredningsforening (Danish Society for Conservation of Nature) and Friluftsrådet (Board on Open Air Activities), the Ørestad has virtually been cut in two: a northern part, mainly for public institutions and some residences, directly in conjunction with the medieval centre of Copenhagen; and a southern part, more intensively exploited than originally calculated, which is supposed to give space to about 75 per cent of the proposed new development, mainly for commercial, industrial and some residential purposes. This has meant that a large area between these two “poles” will remain secured for wildlife, recreational and park-like developments, a fact that has led to the reluctant endorsement of the plan by the two above-mentioned organizations. However, this apparent flexibility and sensibility on the part of the Ørestad Corporation, in itself a praiseworthy trait, also points to a considerable weakness as far as the urban planning aspect is concerned. The idea of having an urban development in this particular location derived from the fact that the land in question was owned by the state and the municipality of Copenhagen in union and therefore was considered as a

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Figure 3.2 The Ørestad project: the plan debated in 1995. merchandise that could be sold, in order to find a new way of financing public transport infrastructure. After that fact was realized, visions of a new fascinating and growthpromoting extension of central Copenhagen were conjured up in such persuasive terms that the majority of the Parliament passed the necessary law. These urban visions have already started to disintegrate and the Parliament will have to pass an amendment to the original law in order to allow for the new conception of the scheme. It seems that, as far

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as urban planning is concerned, there is an almost total void as to the eventual results of this flexible approach. A prominent Danish architect and urban planner, Henning Larsen, has commented upon the revised plan. According to him there will be no significant connection between the two poles, which makes it problematic to place public institutions in the northern part, for instance an extension of the University of Copenhagen. Since this has been considered one of the engines of the Ørestad as such, it should be obvious how frail the project is in urban planning terms. Consequences Since the entire venture is still an unfinished process with a time perspective of 40–50 years, it is very difficult to be specific about likely consequences. A very manifest consequence is, however, that a majority of people professionally and otherwise involved in urban planning issues in Denmark have become utterly frustrated over the way in which this scheme has been concocted. Furthermore, there are widespread fears in the planning community and the population that the evolving implementation will prove to be less than fortunate, both socio-economically and with respect to infrastructure and changes in the urban landscape. Another problematic consequence could be that it will perhaps prove more difficult to achieve the badly needed and widely wanted reorganization of the administrative and political governance of the Copenhagen region mentioned earlier. Through its involvement in this scheme, the municipality of Copenhagen has tried to attract a larger share of whatever future growth there might be in the region than a more level-headed and genuinely regional approach to planning would have warranted. Also, the regional infrastructure as far as transport is concerned has, according to many commentators, been poorly dealt with. One might fear that a less than optimal climate has thus been created for the very difficult negotiations over a new structure of governance for the metropolitan region. Related to questions of this type it can be surmised that the new, allegedly innovative development described here is a searching materialization of what in recent state theory has been called the formation of the “polycentric”, “supervisionary”, or even the “ironic” state. We elaborate a bit on this in our concluding remarks. It might be appropriate at this time to mention that the case we have selected—the Ørestad—does not paint the entire picture of innovation in development planning in Denmark. Many counties and municipalities have engaged in more modest and realistic planning activities, often with the declared purpose of contributing to some variant of “sustainable” development with an emphasis on urban conservation and renewal as opposed to large-scale new development (Jørgensen & Kjærsdam 1995). In many cases this sobriety is an expression of genuine concern for the environment, but it could also be a sign of resignation, a realization that the more peripheral cities and regions will have to adapt to a more static situation, because the dominating tendencies in the economy and national governance point to a greater degree of centralization. Looked at in this perspective, our case represents a microanalysis of some larger development tendencies, which are evolving behind the backs, so to speak, of some of the

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persons, parties, and institutions involved who were previously in a key role in urban development management in Denmark. The driving forces of innovation We have already tried to point out some of the driving forces of innovation as far as agents and actors are concerned. But we do also find structural forces, or pre-conditions, developing in parallel. By no means do we wish to imply that our case of the development of strategic planning in Denmark can be neatly interpreted according to some general theory. It does, however, give cause for some considerations about the drift of planning as seen in relation to some overarching economic and political developments in Europe. In the first place, our case demonstrates that an economic dynamism is almost totally absent in our part of Europe, at least that kind of dynamism, which calls for large-scale public planning and regulation. We would rather maintain that the main task of planning in Denmark these days is to assist in a variety of attempts to lure development, and developers, to our end of Europe. In the case of Copenhagen this has led to some rather ill founded visions of a huge new extension to the city, to be achieved mainly by attracting international capital and corporations to establish significant branches there. The various innovative aspects of the case lead us, however, to suggest that it may be taken as an illustration, albeit a tentative one, of a softening up and reshuffling of established political hierarchies and processes. In other words, it may demonstrate that new political patterns are developing as a consequence of the change in the overall economic and political development in Europe, and the world. Some theorists see a change in the role of the state understood as the national state. The growing complexity of society and the globalization of the economy has rendered the hierarchical state obsolete. But, according to the German political sociologist, Helmuth Willke, this has made it even more necessary for the national state to play an intermediary role between global needs for regulation (of the environment for instance) and local and regional urges for autonomy and self-determination. He even speaks of the state as “local hero” and he emphasizes the territoriality of political systems (Willke 1992:362). Willke ends his book on this moderately optimistic note (ibid.: 372): There is more than a touch of paradox in the fact that it is the classical constitutional state, which—at the same time opposed to the modernity of supranational and global urges, and confronted with the increasing organization of the world—could bring the idea of collective solidarity safely into the future. In order to fulfil this deeply contradictory task, it must be presumed that politics will need an internal lodestar, a form of state that at the same time provokes involvement and distance, bringing to a new level [aufheben] other options through a reflexive segmentation of its own identity. If in this way irony was successfully installed as a public virtue, then “the irony of the state” would neither be a swan song nor mere hope, but the foundation for a socially adequate modernity of the state

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and, to an extent, the starting point for the necessary revision of the theory of the state, [our translation] This new “ironic state” would at the same time be engaged and involved at many more levels of society, while also fulfilling the function of a reflexive and distancing element in political life. A group of influential Danish politicians and civil servants, including the present EU Commissioner for the Environment, Ritt Bjerregaard, has recently published a book analyzing the continuing changes in the Danish political and administrative system (Pedersen et al. 1994). In this book, Demokratiets lette tilstand (The lightness of democracy) the authors try to demonstrate what they call the “explosion of politics”. Instead of being anchored in the good old representative institutions (parliaments, elected councils, and so on), politics has moved out and away from these and is now increasingly taking place in new institutional settings, whether it be various committees, semi-private organizations (quangos) or corporate bodies. The authors are manifestly inspired by theories such as that of Helmuth Willke. In a certain sense this development has meant an opening up of the political system, a drawing in of circles outside the political establishment and also to a certain extent making these new partners co-responsible for the societal situation. However, some of these developments have led to an ephemeralization of political responsibility, making it even more difficult for the politically elected to penetrate and influence the still more complex webs and networks of political decision processes. We would suggest that the case we have described somehow can be interpreted as an example of such changes in politics, in this case as related to planning issues. However, it is difficult to observe the presence of Willke’s benevolent and beneficial “ironic state” in this case. It rather seems that politics has found ways to bend and adapt to the economic exigencies as produced by forces deemed out-side of its reach. An effective local, regional, and national coupling of politics and economy, which is able to take into consideration the environmental constraints and at the same time start to fulfil the enormous needs for improved standards of living all over the globe, seems still a long way off. References and further reading CEC 1992. Europe 2000. Luxembourg: Commission for the European Communities. —1995. Europe 2000+. Luxembourg. Erhvervsministeriet (Ministry of Industry) 1995. Regionalpolitisk redegørelse. Copenhagen: Statens Informationstjeneste. Gammelgaard, B. & E. Raun 1994. ØRESTADEN—en analyse af beslutningsprocessen omkring Ørestaden. Masters thesis, Department of Economics, Politics and Public Administration, Aalborg University. Gunnarsen, C. 1994. ØRESTADEN—et symbol på væskst. Masters thesis, Department of Economics, Politics and Public Administration, Aalborg University, Denmark Jørgensen, I. & F.Kjærsdam 1995. Renewal and preservation in peripheral cities—the planning panel and its consequences. Paper presented at the 9th AESOP Congress, Glasgow, August.

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Jørgensen, I. & J.Tonboe 1992. Space and welfare—the EC and the eclipse of the Scandinavian model. In Scandinavia in a new Europe, Ths. P.Boje & S.E.O.Hort (eds), 365–403. Oslo: Scandinavian University Press. Knudsen, T. 1995. Folketinget som en fetich i statsministerens hånd. INFORMATION (July 22), 16 Larsson, B. & O. Thomassen 1991. Urban planning in Denmark. In Planning and urban growth in Nordic countries, T.Hall (ed.), 225–45. London: Chapman & Hall. Pedersen, O.K., R.Bjerregaard, P.Elming, S.Hansen, H.Hummelmose, P.Højland, J.Larsen 1994. Demokratiets lette tilstand. Copenhagen: Spektrum. Thomsen, L. 1994. Medborgerindflydelse under postmoderne vilkår BYPLAN 5, 270–72. Williams, R.H. 1993. Baltic gateways, networks and European spatial planning. Paper presented at the 7th AESOP Congress, Lodz, Poland (July 1993). Centre for Research in European Urban Environments, University of Newcastle. Willke, H. 1992. Ironic des Staates. Frankfurt: Suhrkamp.

CHAPTER FOUR Building strategic urban planning in France The Lyon urban area1 1981–93 experiments Alain Motte Context The Lyon urban area is situated in the southeast of France, in the Rhône-Alpes region, which is the second French administrative region in terms of population (5.35 million inhabitants in 1990), territory, industrial and economic power (Fig. 4.1). The Rhône-Alpes region is composed of eight départements2 and has borders with Switzerland and northern Italy on the main traffic axis (the Rhône valley) between northern Europe and the Mediterranean countries. It is composed of a dense urban core— 70 per cent of the regional population is centred on 10 per cent of the territory including the Lyon agglomeration3(1262 223 inhabitants in 1990) - four large urban units with more than 100000 inhabitants (Grenoble, Saint Etienne, Annecy, Chambéry) and many medium-size cities. It benefits from high-quality natural landscapes, notably mountain ranges, which generate a powerful tourist industry. The Lyon agglomeration is the second French agglomeration. It developed historically at the junction of both roads and waterways at the confluence of the rivers Saône and Rhône. The city and the urban area are confronted today with serious social and economic problems, which are raising questions about the demographic dynamics and the social equilibrium inherited from the de-industrialization of the 1970s. The region is a traditionally strong industrial region, whose prosperity was remarkable in the years between 1960 and 1975. The development of economic wealth and the standard of living of the population was trans-lated into large-scale urban expansion based on the belief in strong and lasting development. 1. The words for defining urban territories are particularly striking in the Lyon context because they have been used in many ways that do not fit necessarily with the British or American meanings. We use the word ‘urban area’ in this chapter as the territory of the Schéma directeur de l’agglomération lyonnaise. This word “urban area” has no institutional meaning in the French context (in opposition to the words metropolitan area, urban region). 2. Ain, Ardèche, Drôme, Isère, Loire, Rhône, Savoie, Haute-Savoie. 3. Agglomeration will refer first to the French statistical definition of an urban territory. The word agglomeration (in italics) will be used later with a different meaning.

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Figure 4.1 The Schéma directeur in the urban region of Lyon. The urban area of the Schéma directeur includes the territory of COURLY (Communauté Urbaine Lyon), plus 16 other communes. COURLY includes 55 communes and 75 per cent of the population of the Rhône département. The Region Urbaine de Lyon is a public association which includes the territories of the Rhône département and parts of the Ain, Isère and Loire départements. (Source: Agence d’Urbanisme de la COURLY)

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The crisis of the 1970s was marked by economic restructuring, common to many French urban areas. The industrial sectors of the Lyon agglomeration, the COURLY area, lost 52550 jobs between 1976 and 1984. The jobs gained in the service sector (+36630) failed to offset this disastrous loss. The unemployment rate in the agglomeration was 8.2 per cent in 1982. This economic crisis in Lyon was coupled with global demographic stagnation and a spatial redistribution of the population: the city centre and the outskirts of the city continue to lose their inhabitants, which reflects the deep crisis that the city is suffering from. Moreover, the urban renewal activity in the years between 1970 and 1980 redefined the spatial distribution of social groups in the urban area. The concentration of poor populations in a few communes, such as Vault en Velin and Venissieux, endangers the social equilibrium of the city. At the administrative and political level, five categories of public institutions are operating on the urban area: the communes (Lyon and Villeurbanne in particular), the communauté urbaine de Lyon (COURLY), the Rhône département, the Rhône-Alpes region and the national state (with its different bodies). All these institutions are endowed with strong powers in terms of urban planning and space management. The decentralization of the early 1980s transferred power from the national state to the local authorities, without instituting a hierarchy in the prerogatives of the different institutions. They are all entitled to intervene at the urban level. The communauté urbaine de Lyon (COURLY) was created in 1966 by an authoritative decision of the state and was set up in 1969. It includes 55 communes and 75 per cent of the population of the Rhône département. The communauté urbaine is a public administrative body composed of councillors who are representatives of the communes. The most complete form of inter-communality4… nevertheless contains within itself a debate about the legitimacy of its action on space, when both communal and departmental elected representatives are elected through the system of direct universal suffrage. The communauté urbaine is competent in the fundamental fields of urban management: public operations in urban planning, housing (social housing in particular), public transport (with the département), streets and highway systems, sanitation, water, fire, waste disposal, high schools, and land and property reserves. In terms of urban planning, the communauté urbaine has the advantage of being the constraining frame in the elaboration of the main planning documents (the Schéma directeur5 and the POS6). The communes of the Lyon urban area play an important part in the institutional system. The city of Lyon itself has a prominent role, as in 1990 it represented 36.6 per cent of the COURLY population and 25.5 per cent of population of the Rhône département. The mayor of Lyon is usually the president of the 4. Intercommunal relations are one of the most important problems in French urban areas: the elaboration and implementation of policies is weak, which entails serious discrepancies. 5. Schéma directeur. this defines the main and long-term orientations of spatial development of an intercommunal territory. It has to combine housing, economic and transportation development, and conservation of the environment. 6. Plan d’Occupation des Sols: The most important urbanism document at local level: it gives construction rights on specified areas, and defines urban developments.

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communauté urbaine. However, the communauté urbaine must take into account the other communes of the urban area. The communes are responsible for the granting of building permits. Above the level of the commune in France there are cantons, organized into départements. The Rhône département (51 cantons, 12 of which are rural) is mainly urban, a situation that is quite exceptional in France. The département in France has responsibilities for transport, health, and social action. In the Rhône département, this was developed to include a role in the fields of social and territorial solidarity. The communauté urbaine and the département have territories that are nearly identical, an exceptional situation in France, which makes it difficult but necessary for the two institutions to work together. The Rhône-Alpes regional council focused its actions on three challenges: solidarity of the territories, big city networks, and actions on projects and locations in which major stakes at the regional level were involved. All these public institutions are political institutions that had one key common feature during the period considered; they were all run by right wing parties. The case The case is about experimental ways of plan-making when the context and the actors have changed at national and local levels. The 1980s and the early 1990s were marked in France by phenomena that restructured the general context of urban planning (Motte 1994a). These phenomena were a moderate urban growth dominated by peripheral urbanization, continuous decline in housing construction, political alternation, political and administrative decentralization, growing unemployment, economic growth followed by recession, cross-border European competition and the intensification of social problems. The fundamental institutional feature that characterized public actors in the 1980s and the early 1990s was political and administrative decentralization. It entailed a radical transformation of the relationship between the state and the local authorities. The local administrations have taken hold of the powers transferred to them by decentralization, particularly in the fields of urban planning and management. This radical transformation in the formal relationships of urban governance raises the question of whether this has led to new practices in the public local management of urbanized spaces in the 1980s and 1990s. If this is so, what is the content of these new practices by the state and local authorities? What are the challenges the public sphere is facing? What policies are being implemented? Is there integration of new actors (economic actors, civil society) in the public policy-making processes? The Schéma directeur,7 whose purpose is to coordinate in the long term the spatial 7. The Schéma directeur was defined by the Law of 1983 (Article L 122–1 Code de l’urbanisme) in the following way: “The Schémas directeurs defined the fundamental planning orientations on the given territories, taking into account the balance to be preserved between urban expansion, farming activities and the preservation of natural sites. The Schémas directeurs take into account the programmes of the state, the local authorities, the administrative bodies and the public services … They orientate and harmonize them as regards space organization. They determine the general destination of land and, if needs be, the nature and layout of major infrastructure equipment, in

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particular transport, location of the main services and activities together with the preferential zones of expansion and renovation”.

aspects of the intervention of public powers at the urban area level, provides a good focus through which to investigate these transformations and changes in the Lyon urban area. It is particularly interesting to observe how this instrument was used in the new context and to try and identify the innovating practices its elaboration may have generated. Many other questions may be linked to this. The first one is about the political dimension of urban planning. What is the impact of the local political dimension when the actors are endowed with new real responsibilities? The second question is linked to the relation between planning and the economic market. Planning, and particularly urban planning, had been in a critical situation since the mid-1970s (d’Arcy 1985). Does urban planning retain its meaning when faced with the dynamics of the market? The third question deals with the role of the spatial dimension in urban planning: what must the relationship be between strategy and spatialization? The development of the strategic dimension allows easy consensus, especially if there is no hierarchy in the decisions. However, the spatial dimension involves conflicts over land distribution, which reflect in an intense way the conflicts and modes of domination inherent in a society. The choice of an innovatory case in the French context was difficult because of the variety of experiments (Motte 1995) in terms of procedures, processes and contents that occurred between the early 1980s and the mid-1990s. The criteria of choice put forward in Chapter 1 are those showing the existence of a strategic approach in a city or urban area. This involves an important spatial dimension, in the form of a Schéma directeur or of a spatially integrated strategy, providing a coherent logic for major projects. France offers a wide choice of these situations, ranging from near stagnation to the elaboration of important projects. In practice few cities in the early 1980s really raised as an issue the revision of the Schémas directeurs. Their response was rather to use the POS, which gives them the right to build. A recent report provides an exhaustive and faithful view of the new practices in terms of the local public management of territories. In the perspective of urban competition at European level, it considers that: at the basis of any international development process of a big metropolis must appear a strategic will which allows a project for the city and the surrounding region to be expressed, translating a vocation, an identity, original values, priorities and policies. (Fabre 1991:70). The strategic choices of several metropolises are examined in the report. These include Lyon (COURLY), Lille, Montpellier, as well as some projects for the following cities or urban areas: Rennes, Strasbourg, Marseilles and Bordeaux. The approach of Lyon, Lyon 2010, and its Schéma directeur appear as particularly exemplary:

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superbly conducted, executed with the cohesion of local and regional partners, this process resulted in the decision of the CIAT8 on 5 November 1990, approving the great objectives defined by the Communauté Urbaine, the state and the Rhône-Alpes region. Furthermore, the Schéma directeur of the Lyon urban area, elaborated between 1984 and 1992, was considered by the French Ministry of the Equipment as the type example of a new doctrine of urban and territorial planning (Ministère de l’Equipement 1993a). The main difficulty in the implementation of coherent policies in terms of spatial planning in an urban area results from the fact that the different administrative bodies focus on their own electoral agendas. Each authority has a specific sphere that defines the categories of problems that will be taken into account. How have these problems been solved in the Lyon urban area context? The institutional relations of plan-making The Schéma directeur d’Aménagement et d’Urbanisme,9 which was approved in 1978, hindered the development of the urban area in the early 1980s and was no longer adapted to the evolution of the urban area of Lyon.10 The economic and demographic forecasts that were underlying the whole plan were too optimistic; the spatial developments proposed in the plan were mostly obsolete. The revision of the Schéma directeur became progressively more necessary between 1983 and 1985, particularly during the conference “Demain l’agglomération lyonnaise”11 held in Lyon in December 1984, gathering together the main actors at the local level. The main question for this conference was: what is the future of Lyon? The process of the Schéma directeur initiated between 1983 and 1985 was based on a prevailing perception of the demographic and economic challenges with which the actors of the urban area were confronted and of the obligation of an economic development focus to any new strategy. However, the SDAU also faced serious legal problems. Some projects, studies and POSs were no longer compatible with the SDAU, raising the possibility of legal appeal proceedings. The process consisted, for the main actors, of distancing themselves from the formal legal procedure for the elaboration of a Schéma directeur by giving priority to the 8. Comité Interministériel d’Aménagement du Territoire: Interministry Committee for Territorial Planning. 9. 1967–1983: Schéma directeur d’Aménagement et d’Urbanisme (SDAU); 1983—… Schéma directeur (SD) Both documents are quite similar. 10. The area of the Schéma directeur is larger than the COURLY: there are 16 other communes. 11. “To-morrow the Lyon agglomeration”. The French word agglomeration (in italics) is used in the context of the Lyon experiments to elaborate policies at the urban area scale. It means working together at the urban area scale on development logics of the urban area.

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Figure 4.2 The actors involved in the elaboration of the Lyon Schéma directeur (source: Agence d’Urbanisme de la COURLY, with adaptations). debates centred on the challenges of the urban area as a whole, that is on the policy content with regard to intercommunal debates. The urban area of the Schéma directeur is composed of 71 communes (55 of them only belong to the Communauté Urbaine of Lyon), each one endowed with important powers in terms of urban planning. The main elements of this process are shown in Figure 4.2 The elaboration of the Schéma directeur (including the “Projet d’agglomération”) was placed under the direct and immediate responsibility of the locally elected representatives through the appointment of a specific body, the SEPAL. This coincided with the new decentralization law and therefore led to its rapid realization by the representatives, who immediately exercised the powers they had been endowed with. At the same time they used their own technical body, the Agence d’Urbanisme de la Communauté Urbaine de Lyon.12 They linked the institutional economic actors, in particular the Chamber of Commerce and Industry, together with the state services (DDE, DDA), to this policy. Thus, a reversal of the roles held by the state and local powers during the 1960s and the 1970s took place. The preparation of the “Projet d’agglomération” was immediately undertaken by elaborating a diagnosis of the strengths and weaknesses of the urban area, using an important “prospective reflection”, a sort of forward vision rather than a prediction or 12. Urban Agency of the Urban Community of Lyon.

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forecast. The aim was to identify the economic and social forces at work not only in the city but also at the national and European level to define the urban area’s main overall features. Scenarios of development were therefore elaborated so as to consider different possible futures. The first document elaborated was Lyon 2010: Un pro jet d’agglomération pour une métropole européenne (Lyon 2010: an agglomeration project for a European metropolis). It provided a spatial definition of policies for the major functions of a large urban area. The aim was to define logics of development of the urban area as a whole, to formulate its strategic orientations in economic, social, transportation and environment matters. The document itself was composed of five main parts: the strengths and weaknesses of the urban area. Which project? Which policies? How can this project be applied to the territory? How will the project be implemented? The Schéma directeur was then elaborated following the legal procedure, which allows it to “translate” spatially the agreed strategic choices. The Schéma directeur was approved in 1990 by the SEPAL This document was the object of appeal proceedings by a “green” representative of the COURLY, who took the procedure before the administrative tribunal. This action ended up with the invalidation13 of the Schéma directeur. After much hesitation about the procedure to be adopted, a new Schéma directeur was then elaborated and approved in 1992.14 The innovatory institutional elements in the elaboration of the Schéma directeur of the Lyon urban area were as follows. The first element was the consensus about the very necessity of revising the SDAU, which was publicly reached in December 1984 during the conference: “Demain l’Agglomération Lyonnaise”, bringing together the main technical officials and elected representatives. Throughout this approach one main question was avoided: was it necessary to carry out the complex procedure required for a Schéma directeur? The arguments of the forces that questioned this procedure were in fact systematically ignored. One reason for this was that the sociopolitical context of the urban area allowed the emergence of a relative consensus about the vital necessity for the urban area of elaborating a clear strategy to overcome its economic difficulties. The second reason, of a political-administrative nature, was linked with the control of this experiment by an engineer, with a background in the national Ponts et Chaussées Ministry (public works) who, besides his personal qualities as a mediator, favoured the emergence of new rational tools for urban management, with important help from the state. This emergence was made all the more difficult by the institutional complexity of public powers in the communauté urbaine. However, although the institutions were often in conflict, dialogue between the politicians was possible, independently of their partisan positions. They were not in ideologically fixed positions. The SEPAL, which was constituted to elaborate the procedure of the Schéma directeur, was respectful of the fundamental political 13. The Administrative Court in Lyon invalidated for a procedural reason the deliberation of the SEPAL of 3 April 1990 approving the Schéma directeur. the representatives of the Urban Community were appointed by vote by a show of hands and not by secret ballot. 14. The Schéma directeur was approved a second time by the SEPAL on 18 May, 1992. A new invalidation procedure was rejected by the Administrative Court of Lyon on April 14, 1993.

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balance, first between political tendencies, then between the commune members within the COURLY, and finally between the communes outside the COURLY. This “balance”, this “dialogue” and “common work” have indeed created a myth, which was often quoted in the political and technical discourse about the experiment.15 The second innovatory element proceeds from the legal change itself, which entailed a shift in responsibility in the elaboration of the Schéma directeur. Responsibilities that used to be controlled by the state (préfet, DDE) were transferred to the responsibility of the locally elected representatives. This meant that, in the case of Lyon, the SEPAL supervised the revision process of the SDAU. In this way, the policy process entered the political dynamics of Lyon along two directions. First, the Schéma directeur was used as an electoral platform for the municipal representatives. Indeed, the first conference of December 1984 took place 18 months after the 1983 municipal election. The official closing conference of the “Lyon 2010” process in December 1988 took place three months before the 1989 municipal elections. The Projet d’Agglomération was a powerful act of political communication, used in particular by the mayor, Francisque Collomb, to improve a somewhat dull and obsolete image. However, this strategy fell short of electoral success for Collomb. The mayor lost heavily in the 1989 election to Michel Noir, who embodied for the voters of Lyon the modernity of the Projet d’Agglomération. The political dynamic was the idea that the Schéma directeur could produce a “ZAC16 sans souci” (the ZAC “without worry”). The gap between the ZAC development areas, the POSs and the SDAU of 1978 carried a permanent risk of legal appeal proceedings against municipal decisions. Therefore, it was more satisfactory for the municipal authorities to have a planning document allowing them to develop the local economy with the minimum constraints at local level. That was why the logic of the agglomeration project was concomitant with the preoccupation of the local representatives. This logic could have led to a complete deterritorialization, yet this route was followed neither by the agglomeration project nor the Schéma directeur. Nevertheless, one of the main outcomes was that the legal procedure of the Schéma directeur was preceded by the elaboration of an urban area strategic project. Policy agendas The gravity of the situation in the Lyon urban area in the early 1980s also accounts for the actions of public authorities and for the progressive emergence of a political and administrative consensus aiming at defining the policies of the urban area. What policies emerged and how did they give a new meaning to urban planning in Lyon? A significant feature of the renewal was the development of a “strategic” document aiming to “position” the city from the point of view of its development. (The use of a vocabulary belonging to the world of business was characteristic of urban policy in France in the 1980s (May 1989)). The main challenge of the 1960s and the 1970s had 15. See Le Monde des débats, October 1994, which questions the myth. 16. ZAC (Zone d’Aménagement Concerté) is a contractual agreement between local authorities, land-owners and private developers (largely funders) with expropriation powers (Punter 1989a).

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been to organize the spatial dimensions of economic and urban growth. The new challenge was to attract innovatory activities in an economic context that had become international. In 1985, the criticism against the former SDAU was based on a reflection on the purpose of planning. This was no longer seen in terms of the response to administrative mutations but had become the elaboration of a development project. The planning document that emerged in Lyon contained few strictly economic elements, in the sense of direct action in favour of enterprises.17 It was completely orientated towards the setting up of a spatial framework for economic development, with locational choices corresponding in practice to the choices of the chamber of commerce and industry. These focused on development of the east of Lyon. In the Lyon 2010 document, a new conception of the making of the city emerges. There were challenges to take up, policies to carry out, focusing obsessively in the planning documents on the notion of a European metropolis or Eurocity. The main features were carefully defined: activities, infrastructure and services at national and international level; actors intervening in the networks of cross-border exchanges; prestige and fame beyond national borders; and a large foreign colony generating an ability within the agglomeration to welcome foreigners. Four main challenges were identified in achieving this position: the development of the economy, competition between cities, technological mutations and social transformations. Three policies were at the centre of the agglomeration project and the Schéma directeur. to turn Lyon into a European metropolis; to conduct a policy giving priority to development; and to focus planning on specific spaces and favoured axes. The notion of European metropolis was a real “consensual myth” (Davezies & Prudhomme 1989a, Lavigne 1988), which permitted a move from the traditional orientation towards Paris to a new relation with the other European metropolises, notably Frankfurt, Milan and Barcelona. The main policies led to an “occupation of sites with strong development potentials” (Part-Dieu, Villette, Porte du Rhône, Porte Sud, Porte des Alpes, Quest Lyon). Three poles were favoured (Fig. 4.3): the central pole (Presqu’île, Part-Dieu); the pole centred on the technopolis projects; and the functional pole (Miribel, Satolas, Eurexpo). The project of the Satolas airport, 10km from the centre of the urban area, is representative of the choices that have been made. The aim was to set up a multitransport centre combining the plane, the TGV and the motorway, relying on the eastern by-pass of the urban area. This challenge was taken up by all the actors in the urban area and financed by all the “partners”. The second substantial and new evolution appears in the development process of the Schéma directeur between Lyon 2010 and the Schéma directeur of 1992, incorporating a long-term social policy at the urban area level. Indeed, the project aims to favour the social equilibrium of the urban area (seven pages, one map, and four photographs were devoted to this point in the Schéma directeur of 1990), whereas the Schéma directeur of 1992 goes much further, aiming to “instil a policy of equilibrium and solidarity at the

17. In Lyon 2010, out of 11 priority policies, only one was strictly based on economic development. The orientation was mainly towards the superior service sector, focusing on high-tech industries, ignoring traditional industries (Davezies & Prudhomme 1989a).

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Figure 4.3 The overall strategy of the Lyon Schéma directeur (source: Agence d’Urbanisme de la COURLY). heart of the ambition of the metropolitan area development” (SEPAL 1992; twenty-one pages, four maps and two photographs deal with this point). The awareness of the social imbalance within the urban area involves a focus on social policies in a new attempt to remedy social segregation and amplify the policies of urban social development.

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Another fundamental element was the very notion of agglomeration, as the procedure includes the development of the notion itself, beyond the legal and administrative frame of the COURLY and beyond the territory of the Schéma directeur, to embrace the urban region. In addition, the procedure of the Schéma directeur entails the formalization of a specific consultative body: the Urban Region of Lyon. Methods The Lyon process, which has become a reference point in terms of national debates on the renewal of urban planning, was also an innovatory example if we consider the methodologies that were used. When the Schéma directeur was initiated in 1984, its instigators had to start from scratch and invent a new methodology for its elaboration. Indeed, the 1983 law was relatively indefinite as regards both the contents and the methodology of the Schéma directeur. The only specified point was that it was not to be elaborated by national state agencies. Thus, the first innovative point comes from the transfer of the centre of gravity in the elaboration procedure. What used to be centred on the state now became a process directed by the local representatives. The Schéma directeur was put on the Lyon agenda as a large-scale public policy. Therefore, it became a political process that was piloted as a showcase of the urban area policy. Important publicity was given to the work carried out by the experts, by and for the city’s elites, making wide use of the media. The workshops, seminars, meetings and conferences provided many opportunities both to elaborate the Schéma directeur and to publicize the modernization it aimed at. The second main innovation claimed by the authors of the Schéma directeur was the shift from “projection” to “prospective”. The SDAU relied on projections that were extrapolating the strong economic and demographic growth of the 1960s. The decline of the 1970s had not been anticipated. Unlike the SDAU, the Schéma directeur was conceived in terms of a long-term perspective, using a specific prospective approach that sought to “imagine” the future, with the assistance of think-tanks and private consultants. Beyond the expertise that was gained, this global prospective attitude permeates the whole process and the final document of the Schéma directeur. What did it consist of? It was, in fact, an assessment of the realities of the urban area and of its most probable development through identification of the main trends. Voluntary action was in practice the most important feature legitimated by the prospective approach. It was defined as the ability to “acknowledge that the future is the product of chance, necessity (i.e. the main trends of the urban area) and will”. This notion of will means that the: “public and private actors adjust through their actions the future of the city and prepare it as well as possible to respond to tomorrow’s uncertainties and challenges” (SEPAL 1992). The third innovation was the document itself, which made substantial use of cartography and colour charts. The policies were systematically illustrated by maps, and the document on the strategic distribution of land was coupled with a diagram of the fundamental planning orientations (Fig. 4.3). It includes two central axes: the rivers and the east-west axis. The diagram blooms into five petals representing the territorial development of the urban area. The immediate interpretation of the diagram is as a flower opening to the east, showing a vision of the future.

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This rich multicoloured document is an attractive and direct illustration of the will of modernity of the urban area. More profoundly, the myths of Lyon18 that underlay the Schéma directeur document—autonomy from Paris, openness to the international context, cooperation of the elites and particularly of the public actors (Table 4.1)- serve to mask the reality of the economic decline of the city, and to replace the latent negative factors of development with positive opportunities.

Table 4.1 The policy myths of the Lyon Schéma directeur. From

To

Paris Dependence Autonomy International Self-sufficiency Openness Agglomeration Individualism Cooperation

A fourth element was the change in the responsibilities of the technical staff in the elaboration of the Schéma directeur. There was a shift from the state (Ministère de l’Equipement, DDE) to the Agence d’Urbanisme. The technicians of this agency played a structuring part throughout the process and the procedure. They took on several responsibilities. First, they provided a direct service to the local representatives and they were therefore in a formally subordinate position as the decisions were taken by the SEPAL They also brought a technical vision of urban planning (for instance, through a real awareness of demography) together with a development of scientific and technical know-how. Finally, they promoted to the local representatives in particular the notion of agglomeration, placing its dynamics in the European context. However, the notion of intercommunal agglomération does not correspond to the logics of operations at the level of the commune and the canton. The technicians were continually trying to enlarge the scope of the local representatives’ mandate beyond the limits of their administrative and political areas of competence. The role of the technical staff was fundamental in this context as it permitted the mediations that were necessary, on the one hand to push the politicians to take up the challenges, and on the other hand to find satisfactory solutions to these challenges. The technical staff also emphasized the right geography to deal with the problems of the urban area. A fifth element related to the notions that have been used in the planning document to express the development project. The distinction between priority policies, principles of planning, territories and sites (Fig. 4.4) was fundamental, as it provided the missing and necessary link between major strategic actions and the transformations of specific spaces. The priority policies (11 in Lyon 2010, 13 in the Schéma directeur 1992) were dealt with by exposing the main challenges and the suggested options. The principles of planning were a spatial expression of priorities. The territories were represented by the five petals of the flower plus the centre (Fig. 4.3). They were different from the territories of the POSs of the urban area and from the traditional spatialized divisions. They were spaces requiring specific treatment (city centre, east plain, west plateaux, hillsides, upstream and downstream Rhône, southeast plateau, Saône valley). The definition of these territories was an attempt at finding a balance between the different spaces of the urban area. The 18. Le Monde des débats, October 1994, pp. 14–17.

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analysis of their situation and role resulted in the suggestion of planning themes and schemes. The notion of strategic sites, which appeared in the Schéma directeur of 1990 was defined as benefiting from an interesting situation, a potential of development and an important land resource. Therefore, a strategy for controlling urbanization could be carried out, together with a strategic development project and elements of implementation. High-stake spaces endowed with a specific image were the strategic sites that were at the heart of the planning strategy (i.e. Part-Dieu, Satolas). Consequences The Lyon approach can be regarded as innovatory from both the local and national points of view. One must bear in mind that, from a national point of view, the experiment has been largely responsible for the incorporation of urban renewal in the doctrine of the Ministry of Public Works in terms of urban planning. It consists of a capitalization of the technical and methodological aspects of know-how in terms of urban planning. Since the beginning of the 1990s, the Lyon experience has been a point of reference for many French agglomérations to develop their urban planning processes. The cases of Lille and Rennes are also convincingly in that direction (Motte 1995). From a local point of view, at communal or urban area level, the approach of the Schéma directeur brought about a renewal of the notion of “logics of agglomeration”. In Lyon, this concept was embodied in an institution, the communauté urbaine, but the notion of intercommunality had to be continually reinitiated, because one of the most common features of the French local government system is to confine its scope to the communal frame. Therefore, the political debate forces the exclusion of the very conception of what was to be the territory of the Schéma directeur. Should it be the whole urban area of the Schéma directeur or a method of coordinating the POS into a communal vision? The choice of a scale emphasizing as a first priority the whole urban area and its coherent development logics, with the integration of the commune logics, provided a useful tool in the implementation of urban policies. Since 1992, despite all the flexibilities in the planning document, it has been used fully by the communauté urbaine in ordering development.

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Figure 4.4 Planning principles and priority policies (source: Agence d’Urbanisme de la COURLY).

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The driving forces of innovation The main feature of the process and of the Lyon planning document was its political dimension. What are the consequences of a political vision of urban planning? Urban planning became a prominent element on the Lyon political scene, aiming at imposing the idea of modernity on an overall development project. This project, therefore, includes a promotional dimension aiming at improving the image of the citizens and of their city, erasing the negative aspects of it, or dealing with them in terms of solutions to be found in the future. Both the 1983 election and the process of decentralization made it necessary for the local representatives to position themselves differently, both in their relations with Paris and with the citizens. Decentralization required their symbolic acceptance of local responsibilities. The Schéma directeur, centred on the notion of the Eurocity, was one of the instruments they chose in Lyon to legitimize their new position. The target of the document was more the Lyon elite than the general public. It was fabricated to make them dream: “blurred objectives, abundance of illustrations, concealment of the difficulties, elegance of the logo” (Davezies & Prudhomme 1989a). The locally elected representatives prepared their re-election in a communal frame (Davezies & Prudhomme 1989b), which entails four constraints: they must give a satisfactory image of the present situation: they must project a promotional image of the future; the Schéma directeur must reduce to a minimum their local margin of manoeuvre; it must also promise something positive to each local representative. The level of urban reality was comprehended in the least conflictual way, which gave a vision expressed in a form of geographism or landscapism, underestimating the difficult and controversial questions such as unemployment and social problems. Reaching consensus was fundamental. The projects included in the Schéma directeur were so numerous that obviously they could not all be realized. There was therefore a will to make a choice while respecting the local aspirations. When a consensus could not be reached, the solution was found in the local political forces at work in the Lyon context. One of the most severe criticisms occurred in the 1989 debate and was taken up by the Press (Le Monde, 21 November 1989): urban organization in Lyon was indicative, even permissive, the Schéma directeur was finally flexible, open with nevertheless a few precise references, such as the Satolas airport. One of the questions that emerges from the Lyon case deals with the relationship between the elected representatives and the technical staff, but the relation was much more complex than a situation formally dominated by the representatives would suggest. The technical staff, and in particular the director of the Agence d’Urbanisme, had in fact redefined the nature of their relations with the politicians. They were one of the main actors, rarely appearing under the spotlights, but contributing strongly to the structuration of the whole process and also exerting the political and technical arbitrations that were necessary to conduct a process resulting in concrete action. The last critical point is the place of the citizen in an approach that is in fact centred on the elected representatives and the technical staff. The process of the Schéma directeur included a one-month phase of consultation with the public, but this took place in the

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final stages of development, once the projects were elaborated. In an urban area composed of many communes, the elected representatives somehow embody local democracy, but only to a certain extent. Therefore, the French system exists within the boundaries of a representative system in which, given the number of communes and the possibilities of legal appeal given to each citizen, a certain form of local democracy is legitimate. References and further reading d’Arcy, Prats Y. 1985. Les politiques du cadre de vie. In Traité de science politique: Les politiques publiques, M.Grawitz & J.Leca (eds), 261–99. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France. Agence d’Urbanisme de la Communauté Urbaine de Lyon 1984. Mise en revision du SDAU [Lettre de Jean Frébault a M.Rigaud]. Lyon: AGURCO. —1991. Les grandes lignes du Schéma directeur de l’agglomération lyonnaise. Lyon: AGURCO. Bonnet, J. 1987. Lyon et son agglomeration. Paris: La Documentation Française. Bonneville, M. 1989. Le centre et ses peripheries dans la prospective de Lyon 2010. Revue de Géog-raphie de Lyon 64(1), 13–21. Bonneville, M. 1993. Processus de métropolisation et dynamiques de recomposition territoriale dans l’agglomération Lyonnaise. See Commissariat Général au Plan et al. 1993:321–43). Commissariat Général au Plan, DATAR, Plan Urbain (dir.) 1993. Métropoles en déséquilibre? Paris: Economica. DATAR 1988. Atlas de l’amenagement du territoire. Paris: La Documentation Française. —1989. Les villes européennes. Paris: La Documentation Française. Davezies, L. & R. Prudhomme 1989a. Le contenu du SDAU de la region Lyonnaise. Paris-Créteil: Institut d’Urbanisme de Paris/L’OEIL (Ministère de l’Equipement et du Logement—Plan Urbain—Avril 1989). —1989b. L’élaboration du SDAU de la region Lyonnaise. Créteil: Institut d’Urbanisme de Paris/ L’OEIL (Ministère de l’Equipement et du Logement—Plan Urbain—Avril 1989). Davies, H.W. E., D.Edwards, A.Hooper, J.Punter 1989. Planning control in western Europe. London: HMSO. Delfante, C. & A.Daily-Martin 1994. 100 ans d’urbanisme a Lyon. Lyon: Éditions LUGD. Duby, G. & M. Roncayolo (dir.) 1985 Histoire de la France urbaine, vol. 5: La ville aujourd’hui. Paris: Seuil. Demeestère, R. & G. Padioleau 1989. Politique de développement et démarches stratégiques des villes. Paris: Plan Urbain, 1989. Fabre, J. 1991. Le développement des villes françaises de dimension européenne et les réseaux de villes. Paris: Journaux Officiels (Collection des rapports du Conseil Economique et Social 5). Healey, P. (ed.) 1994. Trends in development plan-making in European planning systems. Working Paper 42, Department of Town and Country Planning, University of Newcastle upon Tyne. Institut du Droit de l’Environnement, Jamet, P. 1984. L’analyse de la compatibility de projets d’opérations ou de certaines dispositions des POS avec le SDAU. Lyon: Agence d’Urbanisme de la Communauté Urbaine de Lyon). Lavigne, J.C. 1988. Prospective et planification urbaine: la revision du SDAU de la region lyonnaise. Lyon: Economic et Humanisme (Ministère de l’Equipement et du Logement—DRI operation 8603024). Le Monde des débats 1994. Lyon: la province ou l’Europe? (October), 14–17. May, N. 1989. La concurrence comme nouveau paradigme des politiques urbaines. Paper presented at the congress of the French Association of Political Science, “La science régionale et l’état”, Université de Bordeaux I, 5–7 September 1989

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Ministère de l’Equipement, Direction de l’Architecture et de l’Urbanisme 1993a. Le renouveau de la planification urbaine et territoriale. Paris: Ministère de l’Equipement. Motte, A. 1991. The challenges of European integration for urban planning: the French case. Paper presented at the Town and Country Planning Summer School 199, 16–18, University of York. Motte, A. 1994a. Innovation in development plan making in France (1967–1993). In Trends in development plan-making in Europe, P. Healey (ed.), 90–103. Working Paper 42, Department of Town and Country Planning, University of Newcastle upon Tyne. Motte, A. 1994b. The renewal of the management of French urban spaces (1981–1993). Paper presented at the AESOP Conference, Istanbul, 1994. Motte, A. (ed.) 1995. Schéma directeur et projet d’agglomération. Paris: Juris-Service Éditions. Punter, J. 1989a France, in Davies, et al. op. cit, pp. 149–243. —1989b. Decentralisation of the planning system in France. The Planner 75(4), 12–15. SEPAL, Agence d’Urbanisme de la Communauté Urbaine de Lyon 1988. Lyon 2010: un projet d’agglomération pour une métropole européene. Lyon: Agence d’urbanisme de la Communauté Urbaine de Lyon. —1990. Schema directeur de l’agglomeration lyonnaise. Lyon: Agence d’Urbanisme. —1992. Schéma directeur de l’aggomération lyonnaise: rapport [Carte Orientations fondamentales d’Aménagement / Destination Generate des Sols]. Lyon: Agence d’Urbanisme de la Communauté Urbaine de Lyon.

CHAPTER FIVE Images as institution builders Metropolitan planning in Madrid Michael Neuman1 Context Territorial context Madrid, Spain’s capital, is located in the geographical centre of Spain and the Iberian peninsula (Spain and Portugal). It is perhaps the most central-city dominated metropolis in Europe, with 3 million people (60% of the total metropolis) living in the city of Madrid. The remaining 2 million people (40%) live in 178 surrounding municipalities, none of which exceeds 200000 persons. Economy and society Spain has a market economy operating in a highly interventionist welfare state. Long considered to be peripheral to Europe economically and geographically, it is rapidly gaining parity with European norms according to standard economic measures such as gross domestic product (GDP) and income per capita. Some of its 17 autonomous regions exceed European averages. Since Spain’s entry into the European Union in 1986, much social, economic and environmental policy and actual performance has been driven by a concerted effort at full-scale integration into the European scene. Spanish pride and the desire to overcome isolation during the Franco era and prior monarchies play key roles in this catch-up effort. Since 1980, Spain’s economy climbed from fourteenth to eighth place globally. Tides of rural immigration to the industrial metropolises provided the labour for the growth boom in the 1960s. In-migration to the cities barely eased during the economic crisis of the 1970s. In the 1980s, rural-urban movement decreased significantly, even during the economic boom of the second half of the decade. Rapid unordered growth in the suburban and ex-urban periphery was the result. Local planning and infrastructure could not keep up. As a result, urban expansion continued to proceed without adequate services, following the pattern set in the 1960s. Chabolas (shanty towns) sprang up on the urban fringe and on derelict land within the city. 1. This research has been financed in part by a Fulbright Fellowship, the Program for Cultural Cooperation between Spain’s Ministry of Culture and United States Universities, the us Department of Education, the University of California, the Gaspar de Portolà Center for Catalonian Studies and the Center for German and European Studies, both at the University of California at Berkeley.

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Facilities and social services were also lacking in the inner-city neighbourhoods. Metropolitan Madrid’s economy is consolidating its role as the economic, financial, political, and service capital of the nation. Up to and into the 1980s, most of this activity located in the city centre. Since then, the tendency has moved towards the outskirts, particularly near the airport (east) and to the north and west. Since the 1960s, two related phenomena have been occurring. Heavy industry has located in the poor immigrant areas to the south and east, and high-technology industry has been attracted to Madrid across the entire metropolis. Politics and institutions As a constitutional monarchy, Spain is enjoying its longest period of democracy. This period started with the death of the dictator Franco in 1975 and the first democratic elections in 1977. The socialist party, in power nationally since 1982 after a centre-led transition period, had in recent years steadily lost ground to the conservative Popular Party at all levels of government. The conservative Partido Popular finally won the national election in 1996 and now occupies the presidency. The socialists, proponents of a welfare state, held the Madrid regional government from 1983 until the conservatives were elected in 1995. In the Madrid metropolitan area, socialists and other left-wing parties rule the towns of the poor, industrial, south and east. The conservatives tend to dominate the wealthier west and north, and, since 1989, the city of Madrid. Before the 1979 Constitution, the three tiers of government were national, provincial and municipal. The provinces were under the direct control of the state. Between 1979 and 1983 17 regional governments were formed on a quasi-federal basis. The regions have been gaining authority and resources steadily, through state decentralization and by taking over responsibilities from the provinces. The provinces now have little power in land-use and territorial planning. The autonomous regions wield significant statutory power and in 15 years have built up competent governments providing a full range of services. Because of its role as capital, its size and proportional weight in the region, the city of Madrid plays a vital role in metropolitan planning. This position was more prominent in the past. It is less so now due to the emergence of a strong regional planning department and the fact that Madrid city (conservative party) and region (leftist party) were governed from 1989 to 1995 by opposing political parties. This opposition usually resulted in stalemate, with the entity exercising statutory authority or having greater resources to affect the outcome being decisive in resolving a given issue. Key agencies La Communidad de Madrid (the regional government) plays an important role in regional development. Spatial planning, housing, transport and other regional infrastructure take up the majority of the regional budget. The Consejería de Política Territorial (Department of Territorial Policy) is responsible for regional (metropolitan) planning. In the mid- to late 1980s, it included the now separate Department of Transportation, the regional public transportation consortium, and the Environmental Agency. It still houses the Regional Housing Institute, which develops policy and public housing, and ARPEGIO SA, which

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is a public development corporation that initiates, coordinates, and funds large-scale economic development projects. The Consejería is responsible for preparing the Plan Regional de Estrategia Territorial (Regional Plan for Territorial Strategy), preparing standards for municipal planning and approving local plans, and planning and developing regional facilities and public housing. In relation to the overall planning system in Spain, planning in both the city of Madrid and its regional government follow the guidelines laid out in the national Land Use and City Planning Law. In fact, all three editions of the law (1956, 1976, 1992) were written in large part by Madrid’s planning directors and prominent practitioners from the city. The decisive influence of each of Madrid’s city and metropolitan plans (of 1946, 1963, 1985) that preceded these three editions of the law is easily discerned from comparing the legal texts with the previous plan. The national planning law sets up the administrative processes and structures of planning in an authoritarian and centralized manner. It specifies a hierarchy of local plans—general plans, partial plans, special plans, action programmes, projects and detail studies. It specifies land-use categories—urban land, urbanizable land (programmed and non-programmed), and non-urbanizable land, which all municipalities nationwide must adhere to. Local plans are approved by the regional government. Regions can usurp local planning powers if in the former’s opinion the towns are not complying with the law or fulfilling their own obligations. Planning relations among levels of government are by and large top-down and one-way. This is changing to a more negotiated multilateral system now being pioneered in Madrid, as discussed in this chapter. Over time the nation’s and Madrid’s statutory approaches to planning have become more detailed and regulatory, the above shift notwithstanding. This is a response to widespread abuse and sidestepping of the law and ingrown corruption as regards the granting of building permission. At the same time, urban planning is becoming more entrepreneurial, with local and regional entities spearheading planning and development projects based on large-scale, multimodal transportation and communication infrastructure. The case This case is about the change in planning practice in metropolitan Madrid in the 1980s. It documents the move away from top-down, centralized, and directive planning to a more negotiated and horizontal approach. It highlights the use of images in paving the way for these changes and in their use in building Madrid’s new regional institutions. On one hand, the regional planning department used a new image for the southern part of the metropolis to launch and bring to life a multi-jurisdictional development scheme. This new image, called the Gran Sur or the Great South, not only replaced the old image of a poor, backward and dirty stepchild of the region. It made possible subregional collaboration and action where none existed before. Most importantly, it was the cornerstone in establishing the regional planning department as a viable and potent actor on the regional stage after five years of failed attempts at planning.

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On the other hand, the case documents the use of another image, of a new conception of Madrid as a metropolitan region rather than just the city itself, to build its fledgling regional government. This second image, called Madrid Region Metropolitan, served as the party platform for the successful 1987 re-election of the socialists to regional government. The image was created and the platform largely written by the regional planning director and several colleagues on his staff. Both the terms “Gran Sur” and “Madrid Region Metropolitana” are now common currency in everyday life. People use these terms in daily discourse. They see the south as resurging and Madrid as a metropolitan region. The success of these images is the fruit of an intentional political strategy of the new regional government. The strategy is to use spatial planning to build the new institution of regional government. This case focuses on metropolitan planning in Madrid since 1983. It is in part a story of institutional evolution, that is, the reorganization of institutional relations, of both the regional planning institution and regional government itself. A key issue from the point of view of the protagonists themselves was their political survival. Another key issue faced by the planning department was the best way to plan. Is it through using predetermined, top-down and directive processes or inventing new, partly collaborative processes as the need arises? A further issue was in the minds of the planners. What are the most effective planning instruments available? Are they static and legally mandated plans with a fixed conception of the future that specifies land uses, or a dynamic strategic image specifying a framework that is flexibly realized as time passes? The planners and politicians were afforded the luxury of time to reflect on the nature of planning and their region, given the political stability at the regional and national levels. The substantive issues at stake, part of the policy agenda, were several. The first, the overall model of the territory, the form of the region as it actually existed and as it should exist, was called into question. Is the most appropriate form of a contemporary metropolis competing in a global economy one in which the vast majority of its wealthproducing resources are concentrated in the downtown area of its central city? Or is a polycentric metropolis with networked nodes more effective, with fewer negative “externalities”? This issue was resolved on more or less technical merits by planning professionals and agreed to by the politicians. Another substantive issue on the policy agenda was more political, and ideological. A governing principle behind both the regeneration of the south and the new Madrilenean identity as a metropolitan region was equity. This meant more balance in allocating wealth between the centre and the northwest, the usual locations of quality growth, and the south and east. This was clearly an economic and social equity issue in line with the socialists’ redistribution policy. This issue stemmed from the citizens’ movement in the 1970s that protested against substandard living conditions. It also turned out to be an environmental equity issue because it was soon realized that to attract high-quality growth, a high-quality environment was needed. The Great South and to a lesser extent the eastern sector called the Corredor de Henares (Henares Corridor) were the policy responses designed to attain this political goal. The main institutional issues on the policy agenda were forming new institutions of regional planning and regional government. This meant a restructuring of institutional relations by dissolving COPLACO (La Comisión de Planeamiento y Coordination del Area Metropolitana de Madrid—the Madrid Metropolitan Area Planning and Co-

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ordinating Commission). This metropolitan planning agency was created in 1963 by the central government, and had been dominated by central government until its dissolution in 1983. It was abolished because its premise of central control over local planning was no longer tenable after the collapse of the dictatorship. In addition, other institutional issues were supplanting statutory plans, programmes and processes with new strategies, projects and processes that were introduced in the face of the failure of those previously prescribed. The 1983 regional planning law for Madrid specified three planning instruments. They were the Directrices de Ordenación Territorial (Regional Planning Guidelines, meant to guide both local and regional planning), Programas Coordinados de Actuación (Co-ordinated Action Programmes, short-term capital programmes to coordinate capital budgeting at the regional level), and Planes de Ordenación del Medio Físico (Physical Environment Management Plans). None of these three were ever adopted, despite two attempts at the Regional Planning Guidelines in 1985 and 1988 and one at the capital programmes. The new instruments that were introduced after these failures were four subregional strategies (of which the Gran Sur was one) and the Plan Regional de Estrategia Territorial. The subregional strategies were prepared in the late 1980s and the regional plan is being prepared now. Both are encoded in the new regional planning law (replacing the 1983 law) under consideration in 1995 by the regional legislature. Procedural issues revolve around replacing the statutory processes with a new collaborative model called “concertación”. Concertación involves local politicians and planners, as well as opening up limited participation to key economic interests and community groups. The outcomes of these processes are called convenios—signed agreements with legal force that specify obligations of the parties to fulfil the planning “contract”. Concertación and convenios became the modus operandi for the regional planning department and are prominently featured in the new regional planning law under adoption (Proyecto de la Ley de Medidas de Política Territorial, Suelo y Urbanismo— Draft Law of Regional Policy, Land Use and City Planning Measures). This case is innovative because the regional government used regional planning as a political strategy to build the new institution of regional government. Furthermore, the case shows the pivotal role of images in creating the institutions of regional government and regional planning. It finally shows that inventing processes and instruments to fit the needs of the time rather than to adopt laws a priori to guide new planning programmes may be the most effective and flexible way to enable innovation. The activities described in the case have had a major impact in Madrid and in Spain. They transformed the established way of doing things, that is, adherence to detailed and prescriptive laws, and created new ways that rewarded innovation, flexibility and sensibility to prevailing conditions. The institutional relations of planning Madrid is a leader in Spanish planning.2 Being looked to for planning solutions 2. Barcelona is another leader and claims some of its own firsts. Its 1859 Plan for Expansion by Ildefons Cerdà, the introduction of zoning in the 1907 plan by Leon Jaussely, and the emphasis on

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using urban design scale projects as a city planning approach to create pieces of the city in the 1970s and 1980s all had repercussions in Spanish planning.

influences the stance that Madrid adopts in its planning efforts. The culture of leadership, coupled with being at the centre of power, placed an extraordinary demand for effectiveness on the planning teams. Yet since the late 1960s until the late 1980s, regional planning has been long on analysis and short on action. COPLACO, the predecessor to the Consejería de Política Territorial, produced scores of reports but no plans in the last 15 years of its existence, up to 1983. The Consejería de Política Territorial itself was unable to implement any of the dimensions of regional planning as called for in its enabling legislation. The Consejería needed an achievement to legitimate its role in regional affairs, or else suffer the same fate as COPLACO. The development of a strategy that also aimed to mobilize support was central to this objective. This had to be done in a context where, although the planners remained the key players, other stakeholders had an increasingly important role. Policy agendas Main preoccupations In 1987, Eduardo Mangada, the regional planning director, together with several colleagues, devised a political strategy called “Madrid Region Metropolitana”. This had four aims: to serve as a political election strategy, to confer regional identity, to build the institution of regional government and to craft a regional planning policy to govern land use and public intervention. The strategy was adopted as the centrepiece of the socialist party’s regional re-election campaign platform and slogan. Its rhetoric reflects the globalization of the world economy, the increased incorporation of Spain into the European economy, the desire that Madrid has to assert itself as a great European capital, and the drive to compete economically on the international level. The achievement came in the form of the strategy Madrid Region Metropolitana, and more specifically the project it promoted called the Gran Sur. Apart from its broader political intentions mentioned previously, from a regional planning point of view the strategy had another objective. The project “Madrid Region Metropolitana” has as its basic objective to make the Communidad of Madrid an integrated, efficient and equitable region. The compatibility of equity and efficiency requires in our context correcting the free functioning of the market with regional planning, economic and social policies.3

3. Consejería de Política Territorial. 1991 Compendio de Actuaciones Estructurantes Madrid, Communidad de Madrid, p. 4. All translations from Spanish are by this author.

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“Integrated” meant forming a coherent unit of the new territory of the region of Madrid. “Equitable” meant balancing the longstanding imbalance between the rich north and west with the poor south and east. “Efficient” meant supporting the proper working of the region’s economy. Policy articulation The strategy took shape in two ways. The first was the overall regional vision, presented in three working documents detailing the specific projects intended to realize the strategy, and a final document synthesizing it. This vision has been carried forwards in more depth in the new regional plan, El Plan Regional de Estrategia Territorial. The second thrust focused on the three “zonal strategies”, for the eastern, western and southern sectors of the metropolitan area. The overall and zonal strategies were to be implemented via three methods. First are regional infrastructure investments. Second are public development projects carried out by ARPEGIO. Third are the convenios, agreements between regional government and local municipalities to coordinate implementation of the zonal strategies. In this way, different policy fields such as transport, housing, land use, environment and others, were linked together in specific development projects. “Madrid Region Metropolitana” was a success. The regional government was easily re-elected to a new four-year term. The platform laid out in the strategy was a key to this victory. Its proposition was to “govern the region”. Governing the region meant first giving it an identity. The title tells all—“Madrid Region Metropolitana”. Madrid was no longer just the city. All of government, orchestrated by the Department of Territorial Policy, strove to create a regional culture—a way of thinking about this new political creature, the Communidad de Madrid. Along with regional identity, the planning director, Mangada, also sought to establish a “plan culture” at the regional level. Linking the two occupied the rest of his tenure. What enabled the Consejería de Política Territorial to proceed confidently was its role in the re-election, that is, the identification of the regional planning programme as a “political programme” with full political support, and the long-sought integration of territorial planning with all the other plans and policies of regional government. As partial reward for being a prime mover in the re-election, the Consejería was enlarged by the addition of the Consejería de Obras Públicas y Transportes (Public Works and Transportation). It was now the largest department, with over half the region’s budget. The surging real estate market in the economic boom years between 1985 and 1992 also played a large part in the new-found confidence. Spatial organizing ideas Madrid Region Metropolitana became the umbrella for all regional planning (Echenagusia 1991). Priority was given to the four zonal strategies because they best fitted the new posture of aggressive public intervention that the Consejería displayed. Realizing them would leave tangible and lasting marks on the region, something unseen in Madrid’s planning since the 1940s and 1950s. In contrast to the first years of the new regional government when all the planning was attempted “de golpe” (all in one shot), now the Consejería concentrated on a few important things and strove to do them well.

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This tactic paid off. The Consejería prepared a strategy for each of the four zones of the metropolitan area (east, south, west and north, excluding the city of Madrid). It negotiated the strategies with the municipalities in the zones with varying degrees of success. If the municipal governments were of the same political party as the region (socialist), there was agreement. This occurred in the east (Corredor de Henares) and south (Gran Sur). In the north and west there was little political success. The Consejería only published three of the strategies (south, east and west). The regional legislature gave its approval to the southern and eastern ones. The strategies had broad interest-group support, notably from unions, commerce and industry. Thus, the eastern and southern strategies were given a green light, fitting in perfectly with the spatial equity policy. The zonal strategies were medium-term (5–15 years) with an emphasis on physical development via major infrastructure projects and attracting economic development by buying, assembling and offering large parcels of land served by infrastructure and facilities. The way the Consejería created and sold these strategies illustrates its new approach. It was also the vanguard of a new way of doing government business at all levels in Madrid. The code word was “concertación”. Adopted from France, concertación is best understood as a back and forth, interactive, collaborative, consensus-building process. This process, not open to the public, is a technical-political one. It is hard to draw a line between technical and political. Each political step implied a technical one and vice versa. Technicians act with political savvy and politicians act with technical grasp. This leads to endless debate. This is reflected in comments from participants in the process: “two steps back and one step forwards”; “everything is always on the table for discussion”; “the shortest distance between A and B is not always a straight line”; “a style particular to Madrid.” Typically, the debate proceeds along these lines, not necessarily in this order: an idea, from politicians, planners, or past plans, becomes important. It is studied by technical staff. The technicians agree on a course of action. It is proposed to the politicians. If they agree, the technicians take it to technicians in other agencies and governments. If the other technicians agree, the politicians negotiate among themselves. In the case of the southern zone, the strategy was negotiated with each municipality individually. After they agreed separately, the final agreement was negotiated collectively and signed. This process did not work for just any issue. A conjunction of substantive factors had to be in place also. In the case of the southern zonal strategy, four factors led to its success. First, key issues were at stake. It met a confluence of real social, economic and political needs and demands. Secondly, there was a continuity of work on it that increased as time passed. The initial idea for a public intervention on a large-scale, to help the south out of its decline, grew out of the Immediate Action Programmes in the late 1970s. The Action Programmes were based on the demands presented during the citizens’ movement and prepared by COPLACO staff. It has been on the neighbourhood association and city hall agendas of the southern municipalities since then. It was picked up in the city of Madrid’s 1985 revision of its General Plan, was mentioned in the COPLACO Guidelines of 1981, and carried forwards in the Consejería’s draft Directrices in 1985. Each time there was greater articulation. Thirdly, a clear diagram representing the strategy planted an image in the minds of the actors, moving them to act. Finally, concertación was possible.

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The Gran Sur To illustrate how this process developed, this section explores a key element of the strategy described above, the development of the Gran Sur (Great South) area. General description The southern part of the Madrid metropolis was for decades a dormitory suburb for central Madrid and a zone for heavy industry. It was the site of most waste disposal facilities and had few parks. The seven municipalities comprising the Gran Sur, an area of 36700ha, had grown over 300 per cent between 1971 and 1991, from 216965 to 879340 people. During the 1960s and 1970s, much of this explosive growth was housed in medium- and high-rise superblocks, called “vertical slums” by many because of the lack of adequate infrastructure, community facilities and social services. Its seven towns were “municipalities adrift” (Arias 1988:23). The south began to take on a weight of its own and develop its own approach to urban development and management. Lacking higher-level support, each town went its own way. The municipalities began to compete with each other for new growth in a classic “fiscal zoning” fashion.4 The towns were “dominated by the logic of the real estate market” (ARPEGIO 1993). Change in attitude As time went on, the towns began to see that going it alone was making their plight worse. They saw positive results from working together. The challenge was to unite them. How? There were many forces splitting them. Status was but one of these. Who wanted to be linked with a maligned industrial zone? The city of Alcorcon, for example, identified itself with the “high-tech” western part of the city and not the industrial south. One key to unity was recognizing that “the south has a metropolitan origin” (ARPEGIO 1993). The solution was a push from above, from regional government. It crafted a strategy for the south. The Gran Sur project promised to diversify the economy by adding commerce and services to the heavy industry, converting the dormitory suburbs into more self-sufficient communities, cleaning up the environment, and developing parks. 4. Fiscal zoning is a term, common in us planning, that refers to the practice through which municipalities exploit comparative advantages in property tax rates to lure new development.

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Figure 5.1 The metropolitan area of Madrid, indicating the Gran Sur area. The strategy The Gran Sur is a subregional “piece” within the general metropolitan strategy Madrid Region Metropolitan (Fig. 5.1). It aimed to organize all future development within a single framework. The Gran Sur strategy proposes five key spatial elements. First, the existing town centres, for which the strategy strives to “consolidate” and improve their urban quality. Second is the M-50 Linear Park, creating an east-west axis (part of the circumferential freeway M-50) for large-scale mixed-use development totalling 13 million m2. Third is the Southern Forest Park, intended as a major environmental facelift for the south. Fourth are the multiple purpose Protected Agricultural and Ranching Zones, to protect farmland, maintain environmental quality and manage growth. Finally, it proposes regional and local infrastructure to serve projected growth fully. The total public investment needed is 125000 million pesetas ($1000 million at 1995 exchange rates; ARPEGIO 1993:12–25). Most of all, the project gives hope to the residents by placing the area in the spotlight and giving it a new image. It was easy for the planners to sell the idea to the Consejo de

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Gobierao (regional government cabinet), the Asemblea (regional legislature), and planners, mayors, and councils in the seven towns, because it satisfied many real needs and because it gave a positive image. What were these images? Where did they come from? The design presented by the planners contrasts sharply with the negative social image of the south that had prevailed until then. Dependent on Madrid for work, pleasure and culture, the new design image was effective in persuading the Consejería de Política Territorial’s constituency by replacing the negative social and mental image with one perceived to be better. Evolution of the image, evolution of the project The city of the south was not just a large-scale mixed-use development project. It was to be a “strategy that governed the territory” (ARPEGIO 1993). The Gran Sur began as a mental image of a single person. Felix Arias, director of the Oficina de Planeamiento Territorial (regional planning office) in the Consejería, came up with the idea in 1986. The image in his mind was simple and clear. Figure 5.2 shows his sketch. It occurred to him that, for any intervention to have a real impact, it would have to counterbalance the city of Madrid’s centrality. The south needed its own identity separate from Madrid. It needed its own transverse axis of communication not linked to downtown Madrid. The identity problem was solved in three ways. First, the project was conceived on a grand scale, forging an area of new centrality by combining seven municipalities with over half the area of Madrid city, and nearly one million people. Secondly, the area was given a name, la Ciudad del Sur, the City of the South (Arias 1988). Thirdly, the dependence on Madrid was broken. This was expressed physically by the radial connections to the centre of Madrid, with a transverse axis (the beltway M-50) that connected the towns among themselves. The most remarkable aspect of this drawing and the internal image it represented is that it was reproduced exactly in form and sequence by the principal players involved in the Gran Sur development. Furthermore, drawing the sketch was the first thing that they did when explaining the project to this author. Almost all identified the role of images as “fundamental”. This can be attributed to the persuasive power, durability and widespread acceptance of the image. Although the principal players were able to draw clear diagrams representing the project’s essential image in ex post facto interviews, they did not start with a clear image. The Gran Sur “was not born with a defined image, at least not very defined”, as one regional government representative said. In the words of a regional planner, it has “never been a precise image”. Rather, the image developed and coalesced throughout the life of the process. The image took shape through a back and forth interaction between visual images—drawings, sketches, designs and plans—and mental images. The process produced “an agglomeration of concrete images and images in the minds of the participants” in which the visual and mental images began to resemble each other more closely with each passing step. The process was facilitated by, in the words of a professional planner, a “common language by way of images”. This recalls the saying of

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the ancient scholastics: “pictura est laicorum literatura”—images are the literature of the layman.

Figure 5.2 Felix Aria’s sketch of the Gran Sur The image was so strong that it lived through several project revisions done by the Consejería, ARPEGIO, and a variety of consultant teams contracted by them. The project is routinely referred to as a “pieza metropolitana”, a piece of the metropolis. The fact that it is being built, a regional design becoming a reality, contributes significantly to improving the image of the Gran Sur. It is seen as a continuation of a long planning tradition in Madrid, in which each major new plan that was realized endowed the city with a characteristic urban fabric distinct from the prior pieces of the city. Each of these

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pieces has its own identity. The old city, the expansion, the linear city and so on, each easily discerned by its inhabitants. This enables us to postulate a metropolis as a varied accumulation of settlements that are not necessarily socially stratified. (Zarza 1991:21) In this way the social image of territorial equilibrium, balancing the rich north with the poor south by enriching the latter, matches the physical image, thereby endowing the south with new parks, new areas of centrality for settlement, and a linear axis to consolidate the entire area. New uses for images As the plan gained acceptance, its image and name took on broader social and political purposes. In 1988 it became known as the City of the South and the Southern Metropolitan Zone. Later, it was called Madrid Sur and Ciudad Lineal del Sur (Southern Linear City). After ARPEGIO took over the project in 1991, its name underwent a marketing metamorphosis from the New Metropolitan South to the Great Metropolitan South to the Great South. Each name represents a broader vision and a clearer image of the project. The new shorter names were designed to have a wider marketing appeal. The fact that the name given by a marketing and development agency has stuck, whereas the names given by the planning department have not, and the fact that ARPEGIO’s Gran Sur documents are in English and Spanish, suggest the ascendancy of marketing over planning. The regional government proclaimed 1994 to be “The Year of the South”. Even the phone book picked up the term. The 1995 edition’s southern zone volume was now called Madrid Gran Sur. Methods Three major changes in methods occurred during the 1980s in Madrid. One was the use of images in developing planning strategy and in building new institutions. The second was concertación. The third was the use of convenios, signed agreements ratify ing outcomes of concertación that were used to implement planning. Images as cornerstones of method Madrid touched the future with new images for the Gran Sur and Madrid Region Metropolitana. The image of the Great South, both the mental images that participants in the process had in their minds, and visual and verbal images (plans, drawings, models, rhetorical slogans and metaphors) used to represent the project, was the glue that bound the participants to the process and held the process together. It was a lubricant for political accords because beneficiaries could “see” what they were getting. This was true of the agreement signed in 1988 by the seven municipalities and the president of the regional government that gave the green light to change the status of the proposals from plan to project.

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In the Gran Sur, images shaped political discourse. According to a politician in one of the southern towns, “the role of the image was fundamental”. It was fundamental because the technopolitical process used to reach agreement between the regional government and the southern municipalities was ad hoc, outside statutory planning procedures. This same politician affirmed that they used “a complicated political negotiation process because there was no formal political instrument” available. As in any ad hoc political negotiation, flexible postures are a crucial key in opening the door to the accord. The image, as it took shape, was never precise. “The image is not a blueprint, it is not fixed, it is flexible”, as a regional government political appointee pointed out. At the same time as it was being moulded, it still possessed a clarity that provided a logic to support the connections and claims of the core “boosters” of the Gran Sur. The Mangada team knew exactly what it wanted. Yet this same team let the image acquire a life of its own, a life that animated negotiations to turn the image into a project, which is now being realized. Collaborative consensus building (concertación) Concertación, the second new method, builds on the informal processes so prevalent and effective in Madrid regional planning. Concertación has been confirmed as the primary tool to use to get things done. It is used to reach agreement on important matters, such as large-scale projects and capital investments, and multiyear infrastructure programmes. It is used when money is on the line, when vital interests are at stake. “If there isn’t concertación, things don’t get done”.5 “Inter-administrative concertación” is used to effectuate intergovernmental coordination among and within levels. “Social concertación” is used between government and interest groups or other social and economic agents. Planning through social concertación is becoming more collective. It has spread to such activities as strategymaking, conflict resolution and plan-making.6 Concertación is being used by national ministries and other regional departments to prepare and implement policy and largescale projects. It is also being used as a conflict resolution method. Concertación is another step in the evolution of the metropolitan planning institution. It involves taking a step away from acting directly on the region to acting directly on other agents, who in turn act on the region. This, however, has bumped against the prevalent “home rule” attitude. Therefore, the Communidad de Madrid and especially the Consejería de Política Territorial have been prime movers in an educative form of regionwide social concertación to create a “plan culture” and a “regional culture”, so that the sense of working together and the sense of the region as a whole permeate processes and permit collaboration to work. 5. Personal interview with Eduardo Mangada, 11 March 1994. 6. Recent Constitutional Court decisions have ruled that existing law can overrule the convenio. This has caused some reluctance to sign convenios to conclude the negotiations. For this reason the regional government is modifying its planning law to provide a legal basis for concertation, convenios, and their structural counterpart, the consorcio (consortium). The 1992 national planning law and the 1984 regional law do not mention concertacion, convenios, or consorcios.

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Legal agreements for implementation and financing (convenios) Convenios, the third new method, have developed as a substitute for the planning instruments prescribed by law, just as concertación has come to take the place of planning processes enabled by law. They capitalize on the strengths of the informal processes and endow the institution with flexibility. The role of planners The role of planners in the Great South was to create the images and to mobilize resources to achieve it. Being architects by training, creating a physical image was suited to their capabilities. Mobilizing resources entailed creating political will and commitment. In this regard a select cadre of regional planners who were pivotal leaders of the influential citizens’ movement had the trust and respect of politicians and government officials who were essential to the strategy’s development and implementation. The planners cashed in their political capital, which had been earned in grass roots mobilization. Their “expertise” stemmed from intimate knowledge of the key players, the territory and the issues. Consequences The image has played a role in the seven southern municipalities’ revisions of their own municipal general plans. All agreed to revise their plans to incorporate the Gran Sur, a political decision for each. The image let their professional staff and/or consultants develop local pieces of the larger image for inclusion in official plans. It has been strong enough to get the southern suburbs to go out on their own again, to act independently, yet with the power of a positive self-identity and a supportive regional framework behind them. The confidence boost provided by the image has been enhanced by real improvements. The new University Carlos III in Getafe (Getafe is now known as the capital of the south), the polideportivo (public multi-sport complex), the completion of the M-50 beltway in the south, and the opening of new parks (the largest regional park is known as the “Pulmón del Sur”; Lung of the South) have all contributed to the south’s recovery. Finally, the image has been converted to a marketing tool by ARPEGIO, the municipalities, and by real estate development firms. Such was the importance of the image in the zonal strategies and of building “pieces” of the metropolis, that a powerful public development agency, ARPEGIO SA, came into being. It was created in 1988 and made administratively dependent on the Consejería de Política Territorial. It buys land, prepares it for development (infrastructure, utilities, etc.), and develops or co-develops it. The Grand Sur is one of its main projects. ARPEGIO has become a locomotive agent in the application of territorial policy. Paradoxically, in spite of and in part because of these successes, in the 1990s the regional planning department became weaker. In 1991, responding to critics of the excessive power of the Consejería de Política Territorial, transportation was separated into its own department, the Oficina de Planeamiento Territorial was abolished, and

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environmental policy was moved to the Agencia de Medio Ambiente (Environmental Agency). The powerful director resigned, as did his key lieutenants, leaving a Consejería that remained politically weaker and poorer in leadership, authority and resources. Driving forces To say that the image was central to the creation of an institution could be a simplification. An institution is not built around an image. Structuration of the institution over time must still occur. This involves forming the organizational structure and filling it with people who shape its processes, invent and carry on traditions, and invest it with personal and societal values. In some cases, though, an image can be a driving force, an inspiring vision capturing the essence of what the institution stands for. When an image becomes integral to the evolution of an institution, it is a rich image that reveals and empowers. The visual image captures salient institutional characteristics that correspond to, or create mental images in, the individuals that form the institution’s human potential. A complex image of this type has been the common thread among the plans that have led to the formation or substantial modification of planning institutions in Madrid since 1860. The complex image that transformed the institution is the plan. In contemporary language (and in this case) it has been called a strategy or framework. Historically, successful Madrilenean plans have built on the past, responded to the demands of the existing scene, and imparted a picture of what tomorrow could bring. Plans themselves have become institutions in their own right. They have touched the future. The past followed, in the form of a changed institution. In addition to the technical origins, the project had more general referents. It responded to the political needs of the new regional government to establish itself as a player on the political scene. It met many social needs that grew out of the 1970s citizens’ movement. It tried to respond to the economic needs of an area in deep recession with 25 per cent structural unemployment. It stemmed from and fitted in with the ideologies of the socialist party and the regional government it ruled. Even the role of traditional politics is not to be discounted. The seven towns did not have a history of cooperation, much less the resources to make it happen. The Communidad de Madrid took advantage of party discipline to impose its vision of their future. All the municipalities were governed by the same party as the region except one, which was governed by the then closely related United Left party. It was able to use this strong-handed approach, in part, because the goals of the strategy were shared. In the words of Eduardo Mangada, “if there is no political agreement there is no strategy”.7 The European Community supported the project with Structural Funds. In short, very many forces were pushing the project to fruition. It was, in the words of some, a “proyecto contado”, a given. 7. In contrast, the other three zonal strategies (east, west and north) were not implemented. This was attributable to the lack of political agreement, primarily because the majority of the town councils in those subregions were not socialist.

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References and further reading Arias, F. 1988. Ciudad del Sur. Alfoz 56, 23–6. ARPEGIO 1993. Madrid Gran Sur Metropolitano: territorio, desarrollo regional y media ambiente. Madrid: Comunidad de Madrid. Consejería de Politica Territorial 1988. Una estrategia para la Zona Sur. Madrid: Communidad de Madrid. Consejería de Politica Territorial 1991. Madrid Region Metropolitana: estrategia territorial y actuaciones. Madrid: Communidad de Madrid. Echenagusia, J. (ed.) 1991. Madrid Punto Seguido: una propuesta de lectura. Madrid: Cidur Alfoz. Gabinete de Análisis Sociológico 1993. Estudio de base: nuevo sur metropolitano: informe volume 1. Madrid: ARPEGIO. Zarza, D. 1991. Arroyo Culebro: estudio de estructura y ordenación territorial del sur metropolitano para la region de Madrid. Madrid: ARPEGIO.

CHAPTER SIX Building new institutions for strategic planning Transforming Lisbon into the Atlantic capital of Europe1 Lia T.Vasconcelos & Arminda C.Reis Context Lisbon municipality adopted a planning process that involved the linked and simultaneous preparation of several local plans at different levels. The integration of an urban component in a strategic plan was an unusual feature in this type of plan in Portugal. It provided the basis for structuring the urban policies presented in the city’s municipal master plan. Lisbon was selected for this study due to its successful vertical and horizontal articulation in plan development. This process overcame institutional constraints, produced vertical integration and established trans-sectoral consensus. Lisbon, the core of a metropolitan area embracing the Tagus estuary, is the capital of Portugal, a country with an area of around 89000km2 and almost 10 million inhabitants. The core area of Lisbon itself has 54 per cent of all jobs of the metropolitan area, clustered on 3 per cent of the overall area, which consists of 18 municipalities (Vasconcelos & Geirinhas 1992; see Table 6.1).

Table 6.1 Area, population and employment in Lisbon, its metropolitan area and Portugal (excluding the Azores and Madeira). Lisbon MAL Portugal Area (km2) 83842 3119537 88790267 Population 1981 807937 2502044 9336760 1991 663394 2535669 9371319 Employment 1981 348562 1057258 3659955 1991 281078 1 120972 3945520 1. We are grateful to all the professionals who shared with us their ideas about the process, namely the staff of the municipality of Lisbon who kindly made their time available and provided the necessary documents that made this project possible. Particular thanks are due to Eng. Fonseca Ferreira, Director of the Strategic Planning Department and to Arch. Bruno Soares, the coordinator of the municipal master plan, for fitting us in their busy schedule, to Arch. Teresa Ribeiro for

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spending considerable amounts of time clarifying endless questions about details and to Dr Nuno Salgado for explaining so vividly the participatory process.

Subjected to great pressures resulting from its function as an important pole of attraction, its privileged position within the country’s urban network as the national capital and largest urban centre, and its responsibility resulting from being an international interface within a larger European context, Lisbon is challenged and stressed by the requirement to respond simultaneously to several demands. The new municipal master plan of Lisbon is one of the recent plans generated by newly enacted legislation making municipal plans mandatory.2 For more than 40 years the local plans focused exclusively on the urbanized space, leaving the remaining municipal territory with no planning rules. Yet in the past 30 years, metropolitan areas, and particularly Lisbon, have grown explosively, leading to problems for the provision of infrastructure and facilities. Legislation in 19713 made plans obligatory for urban areas. However, several municipalities developed plans targeting the whole municipal territory, both urban and rural areas. These “spontaneous” municipal plans emerged out of the need to address unanswered demand and greater concern for land use. Emerging social needs awakened municipalities to the urgency of improving the services offered to the population. Worries became focused on the organization of the territory, particularly in the large cities, namely Lisbon and its surroundings. Special concerns focused on the so-called “illegal housing areas”, where many metropolitan residents live. The early 1980s saw legislation for municipal plans4 for the whole municipal territory as well as regional plans. In addition, towards the end of the 1980s, government agendas began to include environmental issues.5 New legislation in 1990 made the development of the municipal master plan obligatory. This legislation introduced a new philosophy of planning, namely the integration of the three types of municipal plans: the municipal master plan, for the whole territory; the urban plan, for the urban areas; and the detailed plan, for parts of urban areas. Legal requirements provide a minimum mandatory basis,6 while giving the municipalities some autonomy for developing aspects considered more crucial to them. The law also allows for mixed uses in land-use zoning, replacing single-use classes with the concept of “dominant uses” of land. The other important feature of the 1990 law is the requirement that appointed technical commissions should prepare plans. Municipal master plans are centrally approved, but 2. Failure to comply with the legislation restrains the access to central government funds and subsidies for projects and infrastructures, namely those co-financed by the EU, and restrains compulsory purchase of land for developments of public interest. 3. Decree Law DL 560/71 and DL 561/71 made the Urban Plans (PGU) mandatory for the headquarters of the municipalities and urban settlements with more than 2500 inhabitants. 4. Decree Law DL 208/82 Municipal Master Plans (Planos Directores Municipals). 5. Two important tools in preserving the environment were created, the National Agriculture Reserve (NAR) and the National Ecological Reserve (NER) both centrally defined. Also, EU environmental legislation was adopted and an Environmental Act enacted. 6. The Constraint Map, areas under protection status and the Land Uses Map, existing and future land uses. Besides the two mandatory maps, a written report and the plan rules complete the documentary basis of the municipal master plan.

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the municipality has almost total autonomy to manage its territory, with some exceptions such as infrastructure at the national level (e.g. the national road network, ports). In Portugal, there are only two political levels of government, the central and the local, but three tiers of public administration: central, regional and municipal. The plan is approved by central government. There are seven regions managed by Regional Coordination Commissions, and 305 municipalities7 (concelhos). The municipalities are responsible for local administration, municipal planning, development of municipal master plans and urban management. They also define and carry out local policies on several sectoral aspects8 and issue permits for urban and industrial development and construction (Reis 1993). Municipalities are further divided into smaller units, the districts.9 Central government is responsible for national policies and laws and for infrastructure and facilities of national interest, as well as for most tax collection.10 Central government is also responsible for defining environmental and agricultural reserves, which have to be protected in regional and local plans. Regional plans, the responsibility of the regional commissions, although not compulsory, provide directives to be followed by lower level plans (Vasconcelos & Reis 1994). Portugal is now entering a new era in planning. The number of plans centrally approved jumped from three in 1987 to 164 in 1994.11 This new activity of planning at the local level has been important to the restructuring of information and to the reflection on future strategies of territorial planning (Reis 1994, Vasconcelos & Reis 1994). Several municipalities were also forced to organize their technical and financial resources to meet the challenge of making the plan. Funds, and a new flexibility within the municipal administrative organization, contributed to the implementation of new technologies, enhancing planning activity (Vasconcelos et al. 1994a). Municipalities sought new partners for technical advice and financial support (Vasconcelos & Reis 1994). They also looked for association with other municipalities, whenever that facilitated a more viable plan or assured the required resources. Strategic plans not required in previous legislation have been used as a way to involve and coordinate several agencies in municipal development and may be a requirement when bidding for funds. Greater commitment towards dialogue, the complexity of recent problems and a “no one in charge” “shared power” world required the involvement of a greater diversity of agencies (Bryson & Crosby 1992, Innes 1996). This contributed to a search for more efficient ways to present the plans through, for example, more understandable features (such as images and synthesis), in an effort to increase people’s involvement and the comprehension and acceptability of the ideas. This also contributed to the widening of the participating communities, with planners assuming new roles, responding to new conceptions of planning, re-emphasizing 7. Municipality size ranges from 7km2 to 1720km2. 8. Housing, leisure, basic level education, infrastructures (such as municipal roads, water supply and sewage), public spaces, traffic management, urban and school bus transportation, and civil protection. 9. There are 4208 districts (freguesias) in the whole country. 10. A transfer of tax-collection power to the municipalities is under way. 11. DGOTDU (Central Department of Land Use and Urban Development), June 1995.

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political, technical and managerial features (de Neufville 1983, Albrechts 1991, Healey 1993, Innes 1996). A special emphasis was given to integrating and articulating the policies for the different sectors and establishing horizontal links. Simultaneously, efforts to operationalize theoretical concepts, particularly new synergetic ones, were emerging out of these planning processes. “Pushing the planning out of the office” in this way, through more understandable ways of presentation, promoted “democratization” and increased the chances of the adoption of the policies and plans. This may also generate the possibility for the involvement of wider audiences, providing a legitimacy that did not exist before. The case The city reached the end of the 1980s with an outdated plan,12 which did not respond to the new reality. Urbanization was left to site-based decisions made from time to time by investment agents driven by the laws of an unregulated economic market. This situation generated widespread discontent. Individuals concerned with the unplanned growth of the capital came together and jointly debated and reflected upon the future of Lisbon, producing a list of intentions in the form of an electoral manifesto signed by a coalition of opposition parties, which won the elections. This led to the production of one of the first strategic plans in the country, based on extensive participation. This covered urban, economic and social issues and served to integrate lower-level plans. The President of the municipality, elected in 1989 and again in 1993, took upon himself the responsibility for planning and urban management functions, providing the essential link between these two areas and the granting of political support to the process. The President set up a Strategic Planning Department (DPE) due to the need to overcome institutional complexity. The DPE was created as a flexible parallel structure. The request for a study on the modernization of the municipal administration represents another innovative feature. Within this unusual setting, a team was created to carry on the development of the idea. Its coordination was given to an external consultant. In the case of Lisbon (Fig. 6.1), a strategic plan, not required by law and unusual in Portuguese practice, was defined as “a tool to orientate the development of the town and the municipal actions” (CML 1990), establishing a framework that gave support to the planning process. Simultaneously, two other planning levels were set up, the municipal plan, and the priority projects and plans level, with the latter integrating the urban plans and the detailed plans. A continuing participatory process was initiated at an early stage in plan preparation, involving a considerable number of social, cultural, scientific and economic agents. The strategic plan, mostly organized around images for the future of the city, had an important role as a mobilizing device, by helping to establish a dialogue among the several actors involved, setting the basis for the identification of issues and building up a favourable context for policy implementation. A particular emphasis was placed on urban issues. 12. General Plan of Urbanization for Lisbon (PGUL) developed between 1963 and 1967, updated and approved in 1977. Although this plan included specific rules for expansion, these were not always followed.

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Figure 6.1 Lisbon and its metropolitan area The policies developed in the strategic plan became the framework for the development of the municipal master plan. Like most Portuguese municipal master plans, and in accordance with current legislation, its content consists of written and graphic documents organized into sectors, stating the policies. It includes “land-use and constraints” maps, a written report, a “general framing” map and the municipal master plan rules. Approved by the national government in September 1994, it contained more than what was legally required for urban planning and management (Fig. 6.2). The main issues involved two components. One aimed to make the planning process procedurally and organizationally efficient and the other focused on effective urban interventions. In procedural terms, the challenge in the case of Lisbon was to reorganize a whole planning process. Two elements were essential for this endeavour, coordination of policies and actors, and the reorganization and remotivation of the municipal services. Being the capital and a centre of great activity, Lisbon has a rich tradition of planning and an important technical administrative structure. Because of the city’s expansion and the rapid outdating of the existing plan, the municipal administration grew in complexity and became managed by sectors without a clear overall policy, lacking articulation among the several intervening agents and among projects and programmes. This situation had serious consequences for residents and investors. Visible implications emerged out of this situation. The municipality lost urban intervention power, and saw constraints in its capability and credibility to influence other agencies. Lisbon needed a unifying concept supported by a wide community, a mobilization and reorganization of municipal services, and the recovering of its image

Building new institutions for strategic planning: transforming lisbon into the atlantic capital of europe

and powers of intervention. The new political board soon understood that a key task was the restructuring of municipal administration to respond to the needs of planning and urban intervention. For this task, a private management consultant was hired in 1991, and a small temporary cabinet, the municipal master plan team, was set up. The other main issue was the involvement of the local and central administration, and private landowners and investors. Here, the strategic plan played a major role in providing the needed unify ing concept. This gathered together the key actors, who contributed to assembling information about the future of Lisbon. Through the mobilization of agents, the strategic planning process set in motion working groups that produced documents, compiling information later used for the local planning process. A core group debated information and ideas brought up during this process. All this contributed to building up awareness and spreading understanding, which later contributed to the integration of detailed policies with the municipal master plan. It also helped the municipality build a new sense of direction.

Figure 6.2 The planning process in Lisbon (Source: adapted from CML 1990, 1993a). The future for Lisbon was reconceptualized around a central vision of the “Atlantic Capital of Europe” and four key purposes. These were organized around appealing images: to make Lisbon an attractive place to live and work; to make it competitive in the system of European cities; to assure its function as national capital; and to make the administrative process modem, efficient and participative.

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The local planning process in Lisbon was being carried out during a period of great planning activity in Portugal. Important investment decisions were being made (e.g. the location of the new bridge over the Tagus river). Several events helped to project Portugal’s image internationally (Portuguese Presidency of the EU in 1992, Lisbon— “Capital of Culture” in 1994, EXPO 98). These events were seen by the municipality as opportunities, recalling Lisbon’s former worldwide role. They helped to promote some new projects (e.g. the cultural centre of Belém), generated activity and brought together resources. Furthermore, they forced the municipality, eager to preserve its power of intervention, to speed up decisions. A set of events created the synergies that made this case innovative. An early start, sound political support and a strategic plan framing local policy all contributed to establishing a rich environment nurturing the planning process. In this case, innovation emerged out of various aspects of the process and the levels of intervention. It can be identified in the planning process (e.g. more actors participated), at the institutional level (e.g. the creation of the Department of Strategic Planning), in the concern for providing a unify ing vision translated into an image (e.g. Lisbon “the Atlantic Capital of Europe”), in the simultaneous articulation of various plans, as well as the introduction of new concepts (e.g. ecological urban structure) in the municipal master plan and its operationalization (e.g. new ways for implementing concepts). Although some of these features have been emerging elsewhere in the national planning setting, they assume special relevancy here, because of the size and complexity of the largest Portuguese municipal administration. The institutional relations of plan-making Arenas of institutional innovation In this case, informal arenas assumed unusual relevance. They were sought in an effort to legitimize the planning process and policy, as well as to set the grounds for implementation. There was a special emphasis on establishing a dialogue with participants in order to identify the issues to be considered in the plan. These informal arenas started well before the formal planning process, during the election period. Formal arenas were set up after the elections and inherited the guidelines generated during the campaign. Formally, the key entity in the local planning process is the municipality, supported by a permanent body of civil servants who prepare and carry out the decisions taken by an elected political board. The municipal master plan is one of the tools guiding local intervention. It requires the approval of the municipality (elected officials) and the municipal assembly.13 Afterwards, it is submitted for approval to the national government (Ministry of Planning) to achieve legal status. Several arenas existed within the process of plan preparation. A legally constituted technical commission was responsible for preparing the plan. This commission, 13. The presidents of the Districts and other elected councillors

Building new institutions for strategic planning: transforming lisbon into the atlantic capital of europe

constituted by the national government and representatives of public bodies,14 is chaired by the regional coordination commission. This is directly under the Ministry of Planning and Territorial Administration. The coordination commission is required to follow the development of the plan, facilitate consensusbuilding, keep the municipality updated about national administrative procedures, assure the articulation with other plans, projects and programmes, and guarantee that they follow legal and normative requirements for urban land-use development. Once the plan is developed, it is required by legislation that it be submitted to a month-long period of public consultation. In the case of Lisbon, this lasted two months. It included a mobile exhibition and several debates organized around topics. Although temporary, the arenas constituted during the consultation phase generated further suggestions to be taken into consideration by the plan. The public consultation effort was committed to mobilizing the population, revealed by the number of flyers distributed to residents’ mailboxes (400000), the posters issued, and by television advertisements and exhibitions in several busy areas of the town. Finally, in November 1991, five debating sessions15 organized around five topics drew substantial attention with attendance levels of about 600 people. This resulted in 3000 written statements collected and integrated in the municipal master plan. Although not a legal requirement, written technical opinions, afterwards considered, were formally requested from several public institutions. It was vital to raise legitimacy at this level, since part of the municipal territory was managed by public bodies other than the municipality (e.g. Lisbon Port Authority, EXPO 98). Such institutional involvement was very important in order to establish agreement and the compromises essential for the future implementation of the plan. Informally, the process was considerably messier, involving many meetings, which often occurred simultaneously for both the strategic plan and the municipal master plan, since both plans were tightly articulated and started jointly at the end of 1990. A diagnosis of the situation was developed and completed in February 1991, by a specialist team (Group of Prospective Analysis, GAP). Simultaneously, the most representative urban agents were identified, and ten meetings were held, organized by sector and promoted by the strategic planning department. These meetings, coordinated by the President, had two functions: to inform the participants of the studies under way and to debate possible development guidelines for the city. These meetings were conducted openly and the participants often congratulated the municipality for opening up the discussion about the city. The strategic planning department systematized the information coming out of these meetings and structured the agenda. The documents that were produced were regularly sent to the president and councillors, who jointly revised and debated them. The president 14. Constituted by 16 representatives of the Central Administration and Public Entities of Transportation and Services of Lisbon, and chaired by the Vice-President of the Regional Commission of Lisbon and the Tagus Valley. 15. The Plans of Lisbon, 50, 60, 70; The New Municipal Plan; The Municipal Plan and the Economic City; The Municipal Plan, the Environment and the Patrimony; The Municipal Plan, Mobility and Accessibilities.

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and councillors formed a “Plan Board”, one of the internal arenas within the municipal executive to follow up the plan. Joint meetings were conducted with the coordinators of the strategic and municipal plans whenever there were matters for discussion. From the sector meetings mentioned above, another arena was created, the “strategic plan council”. It still exists as the strategic planning council, integrating 135 entities partially drawn from the initial 250 participants, and organized functionally by study groups. The council holds a plenary meeting once or twice a year. At the municipal level, several arenas involving insiders and outsiders emerged. Some of these were largely informal. Others continued until 1996, although with adjustments. These were the GAP, the Plan Board, the meetings with the representatives of several municipal services, the sector meetings and the strategic plan board. More spontaneous arenas also existed. The most important interactions during the whole plan development process were between the coordinators of the Strategic Planning Department and the Municipal Plan, frequently involving other specialists. Although less visible and messier, these debates were crucial for the success of several aspects of the plans. Process The plan-making process was led as a managerial exercise taking advantage of the privileged political support that gave legitimacy to its development. The coordination function mostly involved building up a coherent articulation among the contributions of the sector studies, keeping permanent links to higher levels and assuring political support. In short, the coordinator, an architect acting as an external consultant, worked essentially as an intermediary within technical arenas, as well as between the political and technical arenas, operating as a critical information vehicle, aware of the need for articulation. The process was mostly articulated by the coordinator. The interaction among the team members was not so obvious. However, the coordinator was able to make the bridge between higher and lower levels. Horizontal integration was successfully established among the different sectors of the plan, reflected in the articulation of options across the sectors (e.g. the tertiary sector and transportation). Special emphasis was given to the mobilization of the political and technical arenas within the municipality. The remaining participants were mostly involved in the earlier stages, through the strategic plan and later on, once the municipal master plan was ready, through written and public consultation. These other participants seem to have been less involved in the preparation of the municipal master plan and in implementation processes. One of these participants commented: the strategic plan is more connected to the life of the common citizen… the municipal master plan is a more technical document that has less to do with the life of people, as it is more difficult to read and interpret. However, overall results seem positive. It is apparent that an effort, beyond that legally required, was made to involve the wider community, either through the presentation of documents or through the setting up of meetings. In sum, there were three distinct levels of coordination: one that was more political and more closely connected to the strategic plan, the other two more technical: the

Building new institutions for strategic planning: transforming lisbon into the atlantic capital of europe

municipal master plan and the detailed plans. The link between the two higher levels (strategic and municipal) was mostly assured by the coordinator of the municipal master plan, whereas the link to the detailed level was substantially assured by some of the municipal master plan team members who were required to make both projects compatible, together with the detailed plans staff. Arenas set up in this creative process reflect a special effort to involve, apart from public bodies, the internal municipal officials (e.g. the Plan Board) and outsiders (e.g. the strategic plan board) or consultants for the development of specific studies. Several other temporary and more casual arenas existed during the process, generated by informal contacts established through carrying on of the studies. Actors and new roles It is not clear how these arenas influenced the plan or the level of involvement of the participants in the process. Though more participative than usual, it is difficult to assess the amount of knowledge raised in the meetings and how much was integrated in the process. However, it is obvious that the development of a coherent body of ideas around which planning was organized could only be possible as a result of the opportunity provided for dialogue, even if restricted to smaller core arenas. Local plan development reveals unusual features in this process in comparison with what is generally done. Most of the participation process was carried out before the final stage. New actors, not required by law, were brought into the process, and the roles of the participants were changed. Although legally framed, the process was able to create an additional space of action, which co-existed with the formal requirements. This also contributed to raising and incorporating recent concerns in the plan (e.g. environment, heritage, technologies). The first actors emerged out of discontent with the lack of an overall policy framing urban development. This had privileged a growth driven by private investors according to a speculative market. This set the grounds for change. A manifesto was written and served as a basis for the municipal political campaign. Knowledge assembled during this period played a role in starting the plan-making process in order to provide the muchneeded overall guidelines. The new planning process illustrates a shift to a plan-led form of management, developed in dialogue with the main agents. One of the key aspects was the intermediary role assumed by the coordinator of the municipal plan. It assured the link among the different planning arenas and made sense out of the dispersed knowledge generated. A particularly good relationship to other levels of coordination, particularly to the strategic plan level, and strong political support, provided the additional context for a positive result. Municipal officials noted that there was less interaction among team members themselves, suggesting that “everything was in the coordinator’s head”. The planners involved showed a strong commitment to “push the plan out of the office” and to present it in more understandable ways. This facilitated the involvement of wider communities and encouraged a greater participation. This in turn was encouraged by a clearer communication of knowledge and information to citizens. Moreover, a considerable number of planning specialists from the wider community were brought into the process, contributing their knowledge and reflection about the city

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to the plan. This process also drew in a social, economic, cultural and scientific community that introduced their interests, issues and concerns, helping to build a greater awareness of the local situation. Besides those required in the formally established arenas, a substantial number of other bodies were involved. These new actors were identified and brought to the process at specific stages. They fitted into the four levels of coordination of the strategic plan and the two arenas constituted inside the municipality. Arenas were important to bring people together, but they were not sufficient to achieve the integration that was sought through the process. This was facilitated by the roles assumed by key players in assembling and articulating debate and reflection among a variety of participants. A greater coherence and a better articulation were thus provided to the plan, although it is unclear how participants’ suggestions contributed to this achievement. Key players, aware of the competing functions of Lisbon, showed a strong commitment in developing a strategic conceptual basis translated in a marketable unifying vision. Participants contributing to this were politicians, senior staff and members of the business community. Furthermore, things frequently taken for granted were raised and debated, such as the type of plan that should be prepared. The option ended up being an urban management plan, simultaneously prescriptive in certain areas and flexible in others. Consultants were called in to contribute to the articulation of the various aspects, mostly through debates and the exchange of ideas towards integration, rather than to elaborate studies or assemble information. This helped to construct meaning and to make sense out of the process, adapting it to the reality. Furthermore, their expertise was obvious in the development of innovative concepts and in the effort to operationalize them. None of this was possible without a good coordination capability, able to make the most of the knowledge generated in the various arenas and structuring it coherently. Policy agendas During the past 30 years, Lisbon’s socio-economic activities experienced a profound change. The city attracted people and firms despite an almost complete absence of planning and a lack of management tools. This led to a decline in living conditions. The urgent need for improvements created the synergy and political will for the development of the local planning process. Through the process, the aim was to give orientation to the various urban interventions through the structure plan and to express the policies in rules and maps in the municipal master plan. Most of the “images” developed for the city are identified in the strategic plan. They resulted from the merging of the policy options of the elected body and the problems identified in the diagnosis phase. The policy goal proposed focusing on “Lisbon, the Atlantic capital of Europe”. The policy discourse behind this option emphasizes that the vocation of Lisbon has to be found in the interaction of its three dimensions; Lisbon as capital, Lisbon as a European urban centre and Lisbon as an Atlantic city. Described in the strategic plan as “the three levels of capitality”, these ideas represent the core around which the planning options and the concepts substantiating the interventions gravitate. The main objective is to recognize and plan the city at its metropolitan scale, as one of

Building new institutions for strategic planning: transforming lisbon into the atlantic capital of europe

the poles of the Iberian region and with its own competitiveness within the European regional system. These are linked to a new urban model, which emphasizes tertiary activities, expressed as an “urban interface” of high access, combining tertiary and other activities; a “ring of transition” of urbanized land and green spaces, where new central nodes will be encouraged; and the waterfront, where major rehabilitation will be undertaken. Another substantive policy innovation is the emphasis on environmental issues. A major challenge was to realize the national environmental requirements in an urban context. Since the whole territory of Lisbon is considered urban according to national legislation, there is no space left to be classified as an “ecological reserve”. The solution was a new concept, the “urban ecological structure” , under the guidance of a landscape architect, accepted by the ministry of the environment. One reason indicated for the approval of this unusual approach was the sound technical work supporting the proposed new concepts. Besides the underlying concept of sustainability, this provided a detailed account of the environmental issues within the urban area. Innovative concepts, such as specifying areas of potential archaeological value to secure areas of ancient historical remains, emphasize conserving existing builtup spaces of the city. The trend is clearly towards preserving groups of elements (e.g. “nuclei” and “urban sets”) rather than individual ones. The “nuclei” or nodes include urban areas that typically originated as villages, which later became integrated into the urban tissue, although still maintaining their identity. The “urban sets” recognize areas with a distinctive architecture. This reflects a new trend in the Portuguese setting towards an approach to the whole urban area, including built-up areas and spaces, instead of individual buildings (Portas 1994). Concerns with the protection of the panoramic views of the city led to the introduction of the concept of a system of views, aiming at the protection of urban identity and at securing the visual relationship with the river. The main difficulties arose in the operationalization of these rules, since each site is unique. A risk concept is also introduced identifying industrial and earthquake accident-prone areas. Transportation is also important. Starting with housing as the main concern, it was soon understood by those preparing the strategic plan that a key issue was transportation. A new dynamic approach resulted, giving transportation an integral role in land use. Moreover, aware of the importance of bringing together all the transportation operators in the city, a metropolitan transportation agency16 was also suggested. The operators were brought together through several meetings, although with ambiguous results. Efforts to reach consensus among the transportation operators had setbacks forcing the planning team, constrained by the deadline, to opt for a compromise of reserving broad route channels for transportation, while simultaneously seeking further agreement. The importance of the proposals to improve mobility lies in a shift from the previous radial model, superimposing over it a grid system. The integration of transportation policies towards the facilitation of specific land uses, refraining new spatial needs, provided the articulation to move to a more dynamic model. 16. In fact, it already existed.

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Methods By the end of 1989, the municipal elections gave the municipality of Lisbon the present political setting. Political stability, and the growing awareness of the problems affecting the city, generated a new activity in the local planning process, safeguarded by the participative process and adopted electoral programme. In 1990 a technical team, coordinated by a municipal project director, was created to develop a strategic plan, generating a new arena for discussion of the planning methodology and for reflection on the future of the city. The strategic plan provided the framework of policies to support the lower plan-making levels that were developed simultaneously. This provided the vertical articulation among the various plans, as well as the horizontal integration between the different sectors. This team worked directly under the Presidency. Such a privileged situation provided this arena with special flexibility and autonomy, and with a considerable authority to develop efficient mechanisms to carry on the local planning process. At the same time, a second technical team was organized to carry on the municipal master plan, thus bringing into existence another important arena. The municipal master plan gives specific territorial expression to the policies developed at the strategic plan level. It is interesting to note that this team was coordinated by an outside expert with good connections with the strategic plan coordinator and team. This “outsider” position meant that he could have a more distant and wider view of integration associated with more flexibility in action. This arrangement avoided possible conflicts among the different municipal departments. The role assumed by the coordinators of these two teams was crucial in the integration and synthesis of the outcomes from all the arenas involved in the plan-making process. The coordinator for the municipal master plan, as well as most of the municipal plan team members, were architects. Although planning teams were created outside the municipal structure, there was an effort to involve other municipal departments within the structure. This was not always easy, despite the fact that much organized information and many studies in progress about the city held by these departments were used to develop the plan. Besides these methodological aspects, another important factor was the various negotiation agreements for establishing a context favouring the implementation phase. These agreements involved not only public agencies operating in the area, but also developers, property owners and local associations. The articulation of the different planning levels, from a more general and strategic to a more detailed specific intervention, contributed to a coherent framework. However, there was limited interaction within and between the teams, and it seems that most of the interconnections were assured essentially by the municipal master plan coordinator. The arenas referred to above provided the basis for the local plan-making process, turning it into a more participative process from an early stage, particularly as regards the involvement of the social and economic agencies. The arenas described provided a space for debate and reflection, and contributed to the integration of the various aspects considered. They also contributed to developing a pool of updated knowledge about the

Building new institutions for strategic planning: transforming lisbon into the atlantic capital of europe

city that enriched the process. Part of this knowledge already existed, scattered within the municipal services. The merit of the planning process was to bring it together. This was possible with strong political support, the collaboration of several municipal sectors and the newly created planning structure, which privileged the organization around processes instead of, as traditionally, according to functions. Furthermore, participating features of the process required special efforts in plan presentation. New styles of representation focusing on images and visual displays were used. Besides the images developed in the strategic plan directly linked to spatial urban policies, the main strategic ideas for the municipal master plan were synthesized in a leaflet with good graphic quality, which was distributed to the residents in Lisbon. Some of the maps, namely the land-use map included in the leaflet, were developed using geographical information systems. A special concern with the operationalization of concepts required very detailed procedures, which were carefully developed in the municipal master plan rules. A more elaborated document, the municipal master plan regulation and the internal “commentary” document,17 supported the urban management of the municipal territory in the implementation phase. This document connects the stated rules to the objectives, concepts and policies, and establishes links among the rules with the objective of rendering their use clearer and easier to follow, and assuring an efficient implementation of the strategies of the plan. There is a considerable diversity on the degree of flexibility of these rules, which vary depending on whether an area is in a space category for consolidation or expansion. In the former, the rules are strict and follow rigid procedures; in the latter, they are more flexible and are supported by a required detailed plan. Finally, planners found themselves in new roles, which go beyond particular specializations. It is apparent in this case that the planners’ role has been redefined to one that involves operating as an intermediary among several arenas. In this new context, the planner feels a need to bring plans out of the office and to engage in dialogue with the interested entities integrating their concerns and points of view from an early stage. This brings diversity to the process and allows for the identification of the issues and potential conflicts beforehand. Furthermore, it constitutes a two-way learning process. Reflection and debate enhance the development of common grounds of understanding. The planners’ role becomes more managerial. Their responsibility focuses on articulation and integration of information through developing concepts to give meaning to the plan, and finding ways to operationalize the proposed concepts on the ground. In short, there is a democratization of the planning process through the dialogue and participation of the different agents, internal and external, through the different phases of the process. Although a messier and more time-consuming process, this new trend represents efforts “to take the plan off the shelf” into the practical world. The plan intends to assume a more communicative role, abandoning the previous highly specialized character only understood by the professionals directly connected to it. The more managerial imprint in the process is also reflected in the efforts to bring the plans out of the office by the way they are visually represented, making them more accessible to the wider community, to make people feel generally more involved and to 17. This document is not required by law but assists implementation by linking rules to objectives, policies and actions.

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increase the acceptability of the plan. In fact, the higher-level policy frame was organized around meaningful images, which were translated into strategies and policies that were given further detail as the process stepped down to lower levels of planning. A continuous concern in synthesizing, articulating, integrating and even visualizing is presented in the different documents issued, using new technologies of presentation. This resulted from the conviction that the plan had to be understandable to the wider community, not merely to the professionals. Concern for implementation made the planners start to understand the need to recognize the interested agents and to involve them in the process from an early stage. In the case of Lisbon, meetings were carried out gathering key agents at the various phases of the process. Information assembled out of these meetings helped in the restructuring of the plans, policies and strategies. These sessions represented the first steps towards establishing the legitimacy of the policies and their implementation. The concern to make policies really implementable is revealed in the care placed in the development of the plan rules and their specification. Consequences The results of the expected commitments of the different participants are yet to be seen. They may be a factor of crucial importance in the implementation phase, legitimizing the expert’s diagnosis and identify ing existing limitations from an early stage in plan development. It is also still too early to evaluate the consequences of plan implementation, because the plan was not approved until September 1994. However, the whole process of plan development has already shown the importance of early consideration and identification of resources, a political commitment and the development of a common body of knowledge shared by actors reflecting on the future of the city. The introduction of a planning structure beyond the existing one supported the shift from an organization according to functions to one emphasizing processes. Besides contributing to a more manageable articulation among the several levels, it also gave relevance to the outcome. This was further enhanced by the coordinators’ conviction of the importance of vertical and horizontal articulation. It is not clear to what extent the development of this plan was able to draw out the involvement of the other municipal services. However, the collaboration they gave in specific areas is visible, such as the building and cultural heritage, the green spaces and the risk areas. The municipal master plan for Lisbon is now nationally approved, although as an exception to approval, it omits some of the rules proposed that did not have a basis enacted in law. The efforts of the team are now focused on developing the “commentary”, a new version of the municipal plan rules as described earlier. This document will be used by the technical staff responsible for the management of the plan. Furthermore, the teams are studying organizational structural adjustments to serve the planning process and plan implementation.18 18. The new structure is now approved and in place.

Building new institutions for strategic planning: transforming lisbon into the atlantic capital of europe

Driving forces There were several important driving forces behind the innovations found in the planning process of the municipality of Lisbon. The first was the political shift of 1974 in Portugal and the opening up to the exterior. This brought a new posture and a new concern to act professionally. Moreover, the internationalization trends of the several sectors in our society globalized the context of operation, requiring Lisbon as a city to be thought of within the international setting. The entrance into the EU threw the country’s towns and cities into the European level of competition and performance. Policies and strategies for the city of Lisbon had to take account of this new dimension, particularly in respect of its role as the capital city. European and international competition could not be forgotten in the process. The growing awareness by municipalities of their role within a metropolitan area once more redefined Lisbon as the centre of gravity. Moreover, the development of a land-use plan for this metropolitan area led the municipalities within the region to reflect jointly about the future, discussing points of view and proposing policies. Simultaneous to the development of the municipal master plans, this debate influenced them and generated a new metropolitan awareness, referred to by one of the participants as the beginning of “thinking metropolitan”. A second factor was the existence of special financial resources. Entrance to the EU brought structural funds and the presidency of the EU during 1992. The several events planned for Lisbon, such as the Lisbon Capital of Culture 1994, were seen as opportunities in this context. Directly or indirectly they created new synergies that brought increasing resource availability. A third factor was the mobilization of directly interested actors. Information and issues were debated, ideas exchanged and a common pool of knowledge was put together. Documents were produced of the outcomes of these meetings, but what is of the utmost importance is the unique experience gained by participants who shared knowledge and debated crucial issues over an expanded area, the metropolitan scale. Besides the learning experience and the diversity of views brought into the process, a common understanding was developed and the space of intervention grew beyond the usual setting of the municipal territory. In a surrogate way, these arenas assembled and reorganized existing and new information, constructing the basis for the emerging municipal planning process and refraining the planners’ views. Fourthly, the new Lisbon municipal setting clearly favoured a shift from a “laissez faire” to a plan-led management approach, within a growing national emphasis on the development of mandatory municipal plans. This legislation also integrated the three types of local plan, a shift from the previous dispersed planning legislation. This was linked to new ideas about the organization of urban spaces. Worldwide and national planning trends, integrating environmental concerns towards sustainability strategies, influenced the plan. New trends in the planning setting favoured the infill of empty urban spaces that already had infrastructure and discouraged the opening of new areas of development. Also, a general awareness of the relevance of the environment, either natural or built, is obvious in the municipal master plan. This commitment was further attained by the development of innovative concepts to address the urban environment (e.g. archaeological potential, ecological urban structure) and the

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defining of operational rules to assure their implementation. A crucial role was played by the coordination of updated information, actors and planning layers. Fifthly, the political support behind all the planning structure was an important factor in the establishment of a framework for the whole process. The continuity of the political setting for five years has provided a stable context offering a unique opportunity for the planning process to flourish. Sixthly, there is no doubt that the new managerial theories have also influenced planning. In this case the newly created structure shows a clear preference for an organization around processes instead of functions. This puts a particular emphasis on the outcome favouring flexibility. Concluding remarks The image of the planner as a manager of process is one of the ingredients that make this case so interesting. Political support and a new structure provided the flexibility and autonomy needed. An early participation initiated well in advance and carried through in all phases, and the negotiation with local owners, created the interactive system and widened the base of legitimacy, since most Portuguese urban development is done by the private sector, which makes agreement essential. The generation of meaning and creativity are obvious throughout the whole process, substantiated in the generation of new concepts. Although representing a radical shift from previous practice, this process is not without its critics. Some felt that participation was too limited, merely giving legitimacy to decisions already made. Others would like to have seen more interaction among team members and not so much concentration at the coordination level. However, overall it was considered a positive change. In sum, what we are watching is the democratization of the planning process through the involvement of a wider community and the bringing of the plan “out of the office”. The former seeks the needed support in the identification of issues, policies and strategies; the latter seeks to get support and legitimacy from the participants. Influenced by new marketing theories, democratization was further enhanced by the way the strategic and municipal plans were presented, providing a unifying vision disaggregated into images around it. More detailed policies gravitated around these. At the final stages, the need to operationalize concepts gave special emphasis to the development of the formal structure of the rules. This shows an effort to bring the plan out into the practices of intervention and to make it understandable to a larger audience. Two things seem to be changing here. One is the role of the planner, the other is the function of the plan. In this new context, the planner’s function is pushed away from the previous technical role and operates more as an intermediary among the different levels and areas of plan development, with a special responsibility for the articulation of outcomes. Moreover, the planner has to assume a negotiator role at certain stages, because that is vital for implementation. In relation to the plan, a growing concern for making documents accessible and expressing them in more general and understandable ways is obvious, such as referring to images at more conceptual levels and providing the reasoning behind the rules. Rules are not arbitrarily imposed from the top but are justified

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as consequences of the plan’s whole strategy. Efforts seem to be in the direction of bringing the plan out into the open, accessible to a wider community. Therefore, the plan achieves a collective meaning and aims to express that meaning clearly. Legitimacy comes mostly from the participants. Planners become listeners and articulators of what they listen to from others, as well as being responsible for integrating their contributions. Furthermore, the plan is not seen as a final static document but it becomes a working tool, a debating tool, that is, a tool within an interactive process. It abandoned its mostly fragmented descriptive-monographic character for more interpretive and prescriptive features. These changes in the roles of planners and plans are part of the growing search for adequate mechanisms to develop an efficient, participative democracy in Portuguese governance, as a way to complement the representative democracy already in place. This case provides an example of how this search is working out in the planning setting. The future will measure how the objectives were achieved and how successful the implementation phase will be. References and further reading Albrechts, L. 1991. Changing roles and positions of planners. Urban Studies 28(1), 123–37. Bryson, J.M. & B.C.Crosby 1992. Leadership for the common good—tackling public problems in a shared-power world. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. CML (Câmara Municipal de Lisboa) 1990. Piano Estratégico/Plano Director Municipal, Proposta de Objectivos, Bases, Metodologia e Calendários, CML August. Lisbon: Câmara Municipal de Lisboa. —1992. Direcção de Projecto de Planeamento Estratégico, Piano Estratégico de Lisboa. Lisbon: Câmara Municipal de Lisboa. —1993a. Piano Director Municipal—Relatório de Enquadramento. Lisbon: Câmara Municipal de Lisboa. —1993b. Lisboa—The Atlantic capital of Europe, Building the Future. Lisbon: Câmara Municipal de Lisboa. —1993c. Piano Director Municipal—Regulamento. Lisbon: Câmara Municipal de Lisboa. Healey, P. 1993. The communicative work of development plans. Environment and Planning B 20, 83–104. Innes, J.E. 1996. Planning through consensus building, a new perspective on the comprehensive planning ideal. Journal of the American Planning Association 6(4), 460–72. Lobo, M.C. 1994. Algumas considerações sobre o processo de planeamento. Paper presented at VII Jornadas da Sociedade Potuguesa de Urbanistas, Évora, November Neufville, J.I. de 1983. Planning theory and practice .-bridging the gap. Working Paper 402, Department of City and Regional Planning, University of California, Berkeley. Portas, N. 1994. Regulamentação e morfologia urbana. Paper presented at VII Jornadas da Sociedade Potuguesa de Urbanistas, Évora, November. Reis, M.A. C. 1993. Os sistemas municipais de informação geográfica. Lisbon: Edições Fim do Século —1994. A gestão dos PMOTS. Paper presented to the URBITEC conference, Lisbon, June. Vasconcelos, L.T. & J.L. Geirinhas 1992. Commuting problems as a growth management issue: illustration with the metropolitan area of Lisbon. Paper presented at the 34th Annual Meeting of the Association of Collegiate Schools of Planning, Columbus, Ohio, October/November.

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Vasconcelos, L.T., J.L.Geirinhas, A.A.Arnaud 1994. Tecnologias de informação geográfica nos municípios. Boletin de Informação Geograficos 5, 8–9. Vasconcelos, L.T. & A.Reis 1994. The Portuguese planning process and local development plans in trends in development plan-making. In European planning systems, first report of a collaborative project on innovation in development plan-making in Europe, P.Healey (ed.), 158–75. Working Paper 42, Department of Town and Country Planning, University of Newcastle upon Tyne.

CHAPTER SEVEN Plan-making in the Zürich region Hellmut Ringli The context This chapter is about spatial plan-making in the canton of Zürich and in particular the preparation of the Zürich cantonal guiding plan. The organizational base for plan-making was the spatial planning office of the canton of Zürich. A key issue is how this activity linked to federal-level and commune-level planning functions, as introduced in legislation in 1980. The case demonstrates the much greater importance given to strategic spatial planning in the 1990s in Switzerland, compared to traditional land-use planning as it was practised in the years before. This change in planning philosophy is to a large extent attributable to the difficult economic situation during the recession of the early 1990s, which forced the authorities at all planning levels to think about strategies in order to improve the competitive position of Switzerland compared to other European city regions. The case study shows spatial plan-making in the canton of Zürich in the context of the three-tier planning system in Switzerland. The Zürich example is interesting because this region is the most important economic region in Switzerland, the “flagship” of the Swiss economy. Therefore, it is, on the one hand, of national interest that the Zürich area will also be prosperous in the future. On the other hand, there is a certain fear that Zürich will attract too many functions and thus endanger a balanced future development of Switzerland. Moreover, the case study shows that spatial planning in Switzerland, which was traditionally based on local and regional planning, has developed a stronger component at the national level. Thus, the actual planning approach is no longer mainly “bottom up” but also “top down”. Furthermore, the spatial planning authorities in Switzerland, traditionally under strong democratic control, are cooperating more and more with the business sector. Territorial context In the European context, Switzerland is a small country with a total area of 41000km2 and a total population of 7 million. Switzerland is a federal union with 26 cantons and about 3000 communes. The cantons are sovereign member-states. They vary considerably in size and population. The canton of Zürich lies in the eastern part of the country, but is still quite central, and, with 1.2 million inhabitants, it is the most populated canton. It is the financial and business centre of the country and is linked to the rest of the country via the national motorway system and by an efficient railway system. Excellent connections to Europe and to the world are provided from the national airport, Zürich-Kloten.

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The spatial planning context Since the 1980s, there has been a tendency in Switzerland for major economic and cultural activities to concentrate spatially on the two major urban centres, the Lake Geneva metropolis, in the French-speaking part of Switzerland, and Greater Zürich in the German-speaking part of the country. At the same time, there is a strong tendency for urban sprawl at the level of the urban regions. The fringes of the agglomerations are expanding more and more across open land. This creates problems such as more and longer commuter journeys, more traffic jams, and more noise problems and air pollution caused by private cars. It endangers the attractiveness of the characteristic Swiss landscape and destroys outdoor recreation areas near the core cities of the agglomerations. Economically, the canton of Zürich is the most important canton of Switzerland, mainly because of its international airport. Zürich is a financial centre of worldwide importance and it houses the headquarters of such multinational firms as Asea Brown Boveri, General Motors Europe and Philip Morris Europe, and of international organizations such as the International Football Association (FIFA) and International Ice Hockey Federation (IIHF). Because of these favourable economic conditions, the authorities of the canton of Zürich have, during the boom years between the 1960s and the 1980s, rarely tried to guide the location of economic activities at the cantonal planning level. Investors were free to pick a suitable location as long as they chose a site within an appropriate building zone at the local level. The cantonal authorities were convinced that the free market was the best regulator, allowing for a reasonable choice of sites within the canton for business centres, shopping facilities, and so on. Of course the authorities at the local level were obliged to make sure that every building project fulfilled the requirements of the zoning plan and the building regulations. As a consequence of this minimally coordinated development at the regional level, many shopping centres were built on the fringes of the agglomeration of Zürich in one of the many industrial zones that the communes provided. Only years afterwards did the cantonal authorities realize the disadvantages of regionally uncontrolled economic development, the adverse consequences for the transportation system—people were forced to do shopping by car—and the loss of attraction of the existing town centres. This regionally uncontrolled development has led to urban sprawl. Many investors find it easier, faster and cheaper to build outside the city of Zürich. Many of the 171 communes in the canton of Zürich have their own industrial zones. Industrial and craft enterprises have moved there. In the late 1980s, office buildings were also erected in these industrial zones, and were provided with carparking facilities for every employee and visitor. This development brought urban sprawl and an enormous growth of car traffic. However, many of those privately built office blocks remained vacant in the early 1990s, as not all locations proved favourable for office firms. In the early 1990s, the authorities finally became aware of two new conditions, which had been foreseeable for quite a long time. First, a large proportion of the existing building stock in Zürich would be due for renovation within the next 20 years. Secondly, many of the former industrial sites, located in the town centres were partly abandoned and scarcely used. Therefore, they were suitable for urban renewal.

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So, the Zürich cantonal authorities had to decide whether or not they would still leave the regional location of big business and office centres to the market. And if not, they had to decide where they wanted the development of the business sector to take place: in new buildings on open land at the fringes of the agglomeration or, instead, in the existing built-up areas, which offer excellent opportunities for urban renewal. The socio-economic context Since the early 1990s, spatial planning in Switzerland has been considerably influenced by the internationalization of economic development. Large companies tend to be organized in cross-border networks, with headquarters, production plants, supplier firms and marketing offices often lying in different countries. Production activities have been transferred to countries with either cheap labour or important local markets. Thus, the important Swiss companies are investing more and more abroad, creating new jobs outside Switzerland. This is now particularly hard on the Swiss economy, because jobs have also been lost as a result of the economic recession of the early 1990s, the structural change from industrial production to service activities and the strong rationalization going on in the service sector. As a consequence, the creation of additional employment has recently become an important political issue across Switzerland. Therefore, one of the major goals of spatial planning is to create favourable locational conditions for the Swiss city-regions so that they will be competitive in the growing competition between the large European urban centres. In this competition, every centre tries to attract the headquarters of multinational firms, important international organizations, research and development institutes, international fairs, exhibitions, congresses and high-quality services such as finance, insurance, consulting, legal advice, marketing and so on. The social context of spatial planning is strongly influenced by the inhabitants of the core cities of the agglomerations who fight for better quality of life, for attractive residential areas, for cheap housing, for nearby recreation areas. They also demand less car access to the city, less noise, less air pollution and so on. On the other hand there is still a large proportion of the population in the urban fringes that asks for better car access to the core city. Thus, there are conflicting ideas about the quality of life. On the environmental front there is less pressure than there was in the 1980s when the economy in Switzerland was still booming. Nevertheless, various very active environmental groups still fight for a better environment and a healthier biosphere. But in the present period of economic stagnation, the majority of the population gives priority to safe jobs rather than to sustainability. Thus, the planning authorities are on a tightrope between, on the one hand, various demands for a better business climate and, on the other, for better quality of life and more sustainable development. The political-institutional context The Swiss planning system corresponds with the federalistic state structure. The cantons are sovereign member states and the communes have a strong political position because they are entitled to raise local taxes. Before 1980, land-use planning was mainly carried out at the local and regional level. The communes played quite an independent role in

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determining where urban development was allowed to take place. The planning process was controlled by the local population, which had to approve the plans by a public vote. The Federal Spatial Planning Act (Bundesgesetz über die Raumplanung, RPG) came into force only in 1980. This set up a three-tier planning organization (national, cantonal, communal). This planning system works neither in a topdown nor a bottom-up mode, but in the form of dialogue and cooperation between the national confederation and the cantons. The federal act established the following planning instruments: • concepts (Konzepte) and subject plans (Sachpläne) at the national level • the cantonal guiding plans (Richtpläne) and the cantonal background information reports (Grundlagen), at the cantonal level • the land-use plans (Nutzungsplägne) at the communal level. According to the constitution, the federal government has no legal power to prepare a national spatial development plan, because the basic responsibility for spatial planning lies with the cantons. Nevertheless, the federal government is obliged to support and coordinate cantonal planning, and it is also obliged to coordinate those of its own activities which have major impacts on spatial development. Because this coordination has not been very successful up to now, the federal government is at present developing a national strategy, the so called Guidelines for Swiss Spatial Development (Federal Office of Spatial Planning 1993). This action is stimulating a nationwide policy discussion. In 1996, the federal parliament will have to give consent to these guidelines. Every agency in the federal administration is obliged to plan and coordinate spatially activities that have a major influence on spatial development (transportation, energy supply, agriculture, tourism, etc.) For this purpose, they have to devise concepts and subject plans and coordinate activities with spatial effects on the cantonal planning process. The Federal Office of Spatial Planning (Bundesamt für Raumplanung) is the spatial planning agency at the national level. It supports the planning activities of the federal offices and of the cantons. It comments on those federal authority activities that have spatial effects and elaborates the necessary background information for spatial coordination. The Federal Council (executive body) approves the cantonal guiding plans. In 1987 (Swiss Federal Council 1987) it published the Federal spatial planning report (1987) evaluating therein the actual pattern and form of spatial development, the implementation of spatial planning policies and the defining goals and measures. Spatial planning as such, in Switzerland, is carried out at the cantonal level. The cantons are obliged to carry out guiding planning (Richtplanung) and also to organize land-use planning (Nutzungsplanung) for the total cantonal area. Most cantons delegate land-use planning to the communes. However, they have to approve the communal landuse plans and are therefore ultimately responsible for the results. In the guiding planning process, the cantons develop guidelines for the desired spatial development of their own area and they coordinate actions and projects with a major impact on the desired development. The results of the guiding planning process are laid down periodically in the cantonal guiding plan (Kantonaler Richtplan) of each canton. This plan is the central instrument of spatial planning in Switzerland, because it is binding on the authorities at each organizational level (confederation, cantons, communes). It has a double role, being at the same time a set of guidelines and an action

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plan. As a guideline, it lays down the main principles of the desired spatial development. As an action plan, it contains the most important decisions referring to actions and projects with major spatial impacts. Land-use planning is the main planning activity at the communal level. The main instruments are the zoning plans and building regulations. In addition, there are more detailed instruments for infrastructure planning and urban design. It is important that the whole area of a commune has to be covered by the zoning plan - not only the built-up area. Public participation is traditionally important in Switzerland. The cantonal guiding plans as well as the communal land-use plans are subject to public inquiry. First, second and third parties are entitled to make representations. If these are not taken into consideration, the planning authorities have to argue why not and, again, this justification has to be approved by the government. In theory, the Swiss planning system appears to be very comprehensive and effective. However, it does not yet work properly. Although it has been in force since 1980, it is still considered as being new, and it is not yet widely understood either by the authorities or by the population. For this reason, there is still a considerable deficiency in the adoption of the new way of planning and new planning instruments. The main weakness at the cantonal level is that most cantons still consider spatial planning as being simple land-use planning. Spatial organization is not yet sufficiently taken into consideration. Spatial coordination is still dominated by land-use criteria while the structural effects are neglected. The main weakness at the national level is that most federal departments carry out their projects without comprehensive sectoral planning. Many subject plans are still missing. Thus, the projects are elaborated in isolation and the possible impacts on spatial development are not monitored in a comprehensive way. Quite often, important infrastructure projects are still being implemented by a federal department without any decision taken in the guiding plan of the affected canton. This demonstrates that the cantonal guiding plan is not yet being used properly, either by the cantonal or the federal authorities. Fortunately, all involved continue to learn. The following case study demonstrates encouraging progress at all planning levels. Key agencies involved Various key agencies are involved in the spatial planning process of the Zürich region. In the cantonal administration it is, first of all, the Cantonal Spatial Planning Office (Kantonales Amt für Raumplanung) that is responsible for the cantonal guiding plan. The various agencies responsible for sectoral planning with major impacts on spatial development (roads, public transportation, energy supply, waste disposal, and so on) also have an important role. An important administrative agency is the Office of Environmental Protection (Koordinationsstelle für Umweltschutz), which is in charge of achieving better ecological standards. At the local administrative level the key agency is the City Planning Office (Stadtplanungsamt) of Zürich, and at the federal administrative level it is the Federal Office of Spatial Planning that has to coordinate the cantonal guiding plans. The Zürich Cantonal Guiding Plan (1995) is a political plan, which is discussed, amended and approved by the cantonal parliament. Therefore, cantonal government and

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parliament are important actors in the planning process. The political situation in Zürich is especially difficult because the government of the city of Zürich is red-green (left-wing and green parties) and the cantonal government is bourgeois. As a consequence, many problems arise between the city and the canton because of fundamental ideological reasons. Because planning in Switzerland is organized democratically, there are more actors at the political level. First of all, the population can bring forward objections and suggestions during public consultations. In these consultations, many non-governmental groups and organizations also take part, for instance environmental groups, resident groupings, automobile associations, pedestrians’ and cyclists’ pressure groups, and so on. A significant group of actors have become interested in spatial planning only recently: the business sector. Influential representatives of business life have discovered the strategic importance of spatial planning for the future locational qualities of the Zürich region and of Switzerland as a whole. For instance, in 1993 30 of the most important companies in Zürich founded a pressure group—the Interest Group of Zürich Companies (Interessengemeinschaft Zürcher Unternehmen, IZU)—in order to participate in the spatial planning process. In this group, important banks, insurance companies, consulting companies, department stores, production companies, real estate agencies and so on are represented. They produced comprehensive planning studies by private offices and university institutes to develop effective arguments for participation in the guiding planning process. The case study The case study shows how the future urban development of the Zürich area is planned at the cantonal level, how the Zürich development strategy fits into the draft of a national spatial strategy, and how the strategy is realized at the local level, as shown in the example of the town of Winterthur. The revision of the Zürich Cantonal Guiding Plan (Kantonaler Richtplan) In the early 1990s, the cantonal planning authority was obliged to revise the cantonal guiding plan substantially for two main formal reasons. On the one hand, the existing guiding plan had been in force since 1978 and the law required a comprehensive revision at least every ten years. On the other hand, the cantonal planning legislation was revised in 1991 and demanded an explicit inward urban development contained within the existing built-up area, a more intense use of these areas, and the re-use of derelict industrial sites. As a first step, the cantonal planning authorities discussed in a political process several scenarios about the future urban pattern in the canton of Zürich. The discussion did not reveal basic conflicts at the level of the general concept. Thus, in the Spatial planning report of 1992 (State Council Canton Zürich 1992), the cantonal government opted for an inward urban development based on public transportation. The backbone of this urban development was to be the recently built metropolitan railway system.

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This metro consists of radial lines crossing each other in the centre of the city of Zürich at the central railway station of the national and international railway system. It has been operating since 1990 and it has considerably improved the locational advantages of the city of Zürich as well as those of the subcentres on the metro lines. The cantonal authorities decided to take advantage of the expensive investment in the metro railway system and to concentrate future urban development mainly on these railway axes. As a consequence, the revision of the cantonal guiding plan was based on the following three planning principles: • Inward urban development: the existing potential in the present built-up areas was to be used for urban renewal and increasing urban densities without destroying the existing quality of life.

Figure 7.1 Central areas of cantonal importance. The cantonal guiding plan defines 11 central areas, all of them located at important nodes in the railway or metro system. Two of them (6, 7) are in the town of Winterthur. • The metropolitan railway system was to be the backbone of the urban development.

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• Large green wedges between the urban development axes were, for recreational and ecological purposes, to be kept free from buildings. In the draft of the revised cantonal guiding plan, the authorities determined 11 central areas of cantonal importance (Zentrumsgebiete von kantonaler Bedeutung). All of them were located at important nodes of public transportation and most of them offered excellent opportunities for revitalization and increasing the density of existing built-up areas. In these 11 areas, the main activities of national and international significance were planned to encourage concentration (see Fig. 7.1). In these areas, according to the guiding plan, it was expected that the cantonal authorities, and not only the private investors, would play an active role. These actions promised to secure an excellent standard of infrastructure, especially for transportation and telecommunications facilities, and to locate state activities such as educational and cultural institutions, and parts of the administration in these areas, in order to create additional incentives for private investors. All these efforts were planned in order to avoid car-based urban sprawl at the urban fringe. Public consultation was extensively used in preparing the guiding plan. There were arguments for changes in policy and measures from various political sides and interest groups. For instance, the authorities of the city of Zürich argued that the plan proposed too many central areas of cantonal importance outside Zürich and that these areas were too large. Therefore, the plan would contradict the policy of raising the attractiveness of the core city as a business location. Moreover, the city authorities demanded better protection of the inhabitants of Zürich from car traffic. In opposition to these arguments, the business sector, the right-wing parties and the automobile associations demanded an even greater number of centres of cantonal importance, especially along the main road system, in order to create wider opportunities for investors. And they fought for additional car access into the core city as well as for additional carparking facilities. The left-wing parties, the green party and several environmental groups complained that the guiding plan did not contain sufficient “accompanying measures” to support the inward development strategy, such as restrictions on future building development in urban fringe areas, restrictions for car access to the urban centres, abandonment of certain options for road projects and a more restrictive management of carparking facilities. Thus, the representations to the plan covered a wide range of points of view. As a result, the cantonal government made almost no changes to the plan before passing it to the cantonal parliament for debate and approval. The parliament discussed the plan very intensively in many sessions. The socialist party and the green party, who were in a minority in the cantonal parliament, tried in vain to make the plan more ecological. All their requests were voted down by the bourgeois majority. But the same thing happened to most of the demands of the right wing. Finally, in January 1995, the proposed plan of the government, generally considered to be a reasonable compromise, was approved by the parliament.

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Zürich in the context of the national framework The revision of the Zürich Guiding Plan happened simultaneously to the process of devising a national development strategy. Both processes influenced each other in discussions among professionals and interest groups. In October 1994, the federal government presented the draft proposal for the Guidelines for Swiss Spatial Development (Grundzüge der Raumordnung Schweiz 1994). This draft was discussed in a public hearing until the end of April 1995. The main element of this national strategy is a polycentric urban network, forming the Swiss City. It is based on the existing urban pattern. Switzerland is traditionally composed of large and medium-size agglomerations and towns. They are located near to each other and each of them is attractive and well serviced. According to the strategy, the planned new national railway system, “Rail 2000”, should link these poles so well that each of them will be part of a functional Swiss City (Fig. 7.2). A characteristic of the system of Rail 2000 is that the trains will not run as

Figure 7.2 The “Swiss City”: a poly centric urban network linked by Rail 2000. fast as possible but only as fast as necessary, in order to secure interconnections at regular intervals at the important nodal points. In this urban network, each city is to maintain and improve those functions where it is particularly strong. For instance, Zürich becomes the most important finance and business centre, Geneva is the seat of international organizations and private banking, Bern is the governmental capital, and Basel is seen as a high-tech centre for pharmacology and a centre for international fairs. In parallel, each city has to compensate for its weak functions in the network. The efficient transportation system will make it possible to travel for top functions to a neighbouring city centre, for important financial

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business to Zürich, for international fairs to Basel, and for international organizations to Geneva. Of course, this means additional mobility, but it is only needed for activities at the apex of national activity. For regular functions, the poly centric network will offer a variety of attractive regional centres. Thus, on the whole, forced mobility will be reduced, compared to a settlement pattern that promotes only a few large agglomerations. Also, the medium-size cities will be an important part of the Swiss city network because they attract part of the urban growth that otherwise would occur on the fringes of the large agglomerations. According to the national strategy, additional large business and office buildings will no longer be located at the fringes of the large agglomerations but in the adjacent medium-size cities at the stations of Rail 2000. In terms of travel time, these cities are as near to the main centre as is the urban fringe. And in most of those medium-size cities there are suitable sites available for renovation, changes in use and increased building density, very close to the railway station, as will be seen at the example of Winterthur. Thus, the Swiss City as a functional total, with about three million inhabitants and two million jobs, will offer the required critical mass and a large market, which is needed for highly specialized services and for skilled top professionals. Therefore, it will be able to compete with surrounding metropolitan areas such as Munich, Frankfurt, Lyon and so on. According to the national strategy, the urban network should relieve the large growth centres of too much additional growth. As a consequence, each node of the network could be of a reasonable size, with few congestion problems and with short distances to outdoor recreation areas. This poly centric urban network is expected to offer the required quality of life for the residential population, and this is something that—in the long run—might be a considerable locational advantage for top professionals and their families. The comparison of the Zürich cantonal guiding plan with the Guidelines for Swiss spatial development shows that the Zürich approach fits into the national framework quite well. Both strategies promote an inward urban development based on public transportation. Impacts at the local level in the town of Winterthur As seen above, the cantonal guiding plan offers opportunities and public support to private developers in 11 centres of cantonal importance. However, the plan does not include appropriate restrictive measures that could effectively prevent undesirable major development outside the 11 selected areas. Therefore, the cantonal development strategy can only be effective if the private partners in these areas cooperate. The case of the town of Winterthur shows how this can work. There, inward urban development is to be realized next to a station of Rail 2000. Winterthur is the second most important town in the Canton of Zürich, with a population of about 100000 inhabitants. It is 25km from Zürich, and Rail 2000 will stop there. In the cantonal guiding plan, two of the central areas of cantonal importance are located in Winterthur (Fig. 7.1). This again coincides with the national strategy, because Winterthur is one of the nodes in the Swiss urban network. In the central part of Winterthur, there is a large industrial site available for urban renewal. Its location is very near to the central railway station and the old town centre. In the late 1980s and early 1990s, the internationally known Sulzer company moved parts of

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its production plants from this site to the fringe of the town. In 1989, the Sulzer company planned to build a new office and business centre with spacious underground parking on the old industrial site. However, there was too much opposition from neighbouring inhabitants. As a consequence, the Winterthur city council, as the executive body, was forced to take active leadership in the urban renewal process. In a four-year planning process up to 1994, with public participation and excellent collaboration between the city authorities and the Sulzer landowner, a very interesting solution for the development of the central area of Winterthur was developed. In that solution, the Sulzer area was seen in the whole context of the central part of the town. The main policies for the development of the central part of the town consist of the following: an open space along and above the railway area; pedestrian access to the central open space, with two pedestrian malls on each side of the railway line; each city district to develop individually according to its own historic character, so that they will vary in function and appearance; each city district to be connected to the central open space with a public square and an “entrance” building functioning as a gate; radial green wedges to meet in the central area in three locations. The project developed by the famous French urbanists, Jean Nouvel and Emmanuel Cattani, for the Sulzer city district responds to the above mentioned policies. It proposed new development of this city district while preserving its historic industrial character. The structure of the crane tracks that existed on the site previously was to form the basic grid of the future built-up area. Some cranes were even to be preserved and integrated into the new buildings. Not all the existing buildings were to be demolished. They would be partly used temporarily, partly renovated and partly replaced by new buildings, but everything was to be undertaken in a flexible step-by-step urban renewal process. Through this process, a new urban district was to emerge with mixed uses in attractive, transparent buildings and with an urban character that would still show its industrial past. What is innovative in the case study? For the first time, the business sector discovered, to a substantial extent, the strategic importance of spatial planning and took an active role in the planning process. As a consequence, for the first time spatial planning has been used to respond to the challenges of the global market. And for the first time, the cantonal authorities have been prepared to indicate in a proactive way at a macro level where they prefer to have large private investments in business centres, thus enabling the private sector to concentrate investments in suitable locations. Institutional relations of plan-making The international economic challenge in Switzerland has promoted a closer cooperation between the planning agencies at the three planning levels (confederation, cantons and big cities). The common interest to improve the competitive position of Switzerland in relation to nearby important European city regions has given the national planning level more importance. There is a national consensus on the need for spatial planning at all three levels. Thus, the planning approach no longer merely takes the traditional bottom-

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up approach, but also has a top-down dimension. When the guidelines for Swiss spatial development were in a public hearing in spring 1995, the results showed that there were no serious objections to a national spatial strategy, although this is not required in the federal spatial planning act. Such a strategy is considered to be necessary for three main purposes: as a guideline for the federal agencies, as a platform for collaboration between the confederation and the cantons, and as a base for dialogue at the European level. A re-emergence of strategic cooperation between spatial planning and sectoral planning, especially transportation planning, is also happening. The importance of excellent links between the various nodes of the polycentric urban network forces a close cooperation with regard to Rail 2000, the international high-speed railway, air transport and the extension of the metropolitan railway system. In the 1970s, there was a closer cooperation, but this came to an end in the 1980s when, through a neoliberalist attitude, transportation planning was reduced to mere project-led sectoral planning. A major innovation in the 1990s is that the business sector discovered the strategic importance of spatial planning. Business groups sought to market the investment opportunities of the region. Therefore, several business pressure groups became interested in improvements to locational qualities that could be created by successful planning. It is a tradition in Switzerland that the population participates in spatial planning. In the Zürich case, local people fought against the threat that improved spatial conditions for business and service centres might lead to a deterioration of living conditions in the adjacent city districts. The Winterthur example shows how the neighbouring population reacted at a very early stage in opposition to an urban renewal project of the Sulzer company, which was completely out of scale with the neglected environment. They collected enough signatures for an initiative asking for a public development framing plan (Gestaltungsplan) for that area. This democratic activity forced the town authorities to play an active part in the spatial planning process from the very beginning, instead of just approving a private project. This led to intensive and successful cooperation between the three partners: the town authorities, the landowners and investors, and the local population. The Winterthur case also shows innovations in the thinking of local people with regard to economic restraints. Although from the very beginning the neighbouring population of the Sulzer area in Winterthur fought in the urban renewal process for better living conditions, they were aware of existing economic restrictions. Therefore, they were prepared to accept compromises in order to allow enough profit for the investors. The case also shows innovation in thinking on the investors’ side. The private landowners and investors realized that the public would never accept a large business and office centre if there was not a reasonable mix between offices, shops, dwellings, restaurants and so on, and if there was no guarantee that the existing quality of life in the surrounding town districts would not deteriorate. They realized that environmental quality itself would in the long run be a very important locational factor and that it would create a positive image of the city. This in turn would add to the value of the regenerated area. Therefore, they agreed to tradeoffs such as the reinvestment of some of the profit arising from the more intensive use of the building sites into public transportation services and into the creation of attractive and safe outdoor spaces for pedestrians and cyclists.

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Policy agendas The case shows a coherent overall strategy based on development of the existing urban area (“inward urban development”), the promotion of public transportation and a polycentric network instead of large agglomerations. This strategy is justified by concerns about quality of life, high ecological standards and about economic positioning within global competition. Good living conditions, low pollution standards and attractive landscapes very near to the urban centres are considered likely to be a major locational advantage in a country with high wages and high costs of living. The major policy discourse in the Zürich region was that of “inward urban development”, as opposed to urban sprawl at the fringes. There was a clear decision in favour of a compact agglomeration based on a metropolitan railway system with radial lines crossing in the core city. This strategy gives a dominant role to the city of Zürich and to selected secondary centres at important stations of the metro system. However, there was much opposition from the landowners on the urban periphery and from investors who find it easier and cheaper to build on the urban fringe. Within the city of Zürich, the strategy tries to solve the conflict between urban pressures and demand for high living standards. Business activities are mostly expected to be in the service sector (banking, insurance, consulting, etc.). The policy is to concentrate these in mixed-use development areas on abandoned industrial sites next to centrally located railway stations. Car access to these areas will be reduced because they are well served by the railway, metro and tram. The investors were prepared to agree to this traffic regime because it allowed them to build more densely without expensive investment in access roads and carparking areas. On the other hand, the policy is to protect residential areas in the city from excessive business activities and traffic nuisance. In this way, the city should become more comfortable for residents, including families with children and well-off people employed at prestige work places in the city centre. Attractive streets, squares and parks should provide a favourable environment for pedestrians and cyclists. Adequate measures have already been introduced and should be extended, such as protection from through-traffic and commuter carparking, by culs-de-sac, speed limits and reserved parking discs for residents. The pressure on existing dwelling areas is reduced by plot-ratio standards (Wohnanteilpläne), which allow only limited floor ratios for offices and second homes. The remaining floor areas have to be used for dwellings. The transportation strategy clearly promotes public transportation and reduced car access to the central areas. This is in combination with encouraging motorless traffic. It is hoped that pedestrians and cyclists will be stimulated by attractive and safe public squares and streets. The weak point of the Zürich guiding plan might be that it relies mostly on promoting and enabling measures, and not sufficiently on restricting measures. In order not to endanger acceptance of the plan by the parliament, the government did not sufficiently reduce the building areas in the urban periphery and it did not abandon options for future road projects. Its planning philosophy was that if there were enough incentives to invest in the desired locations, there would be reduced pressure for building in the periphery. Further, there would not be a majority of the population to vote for new road projects.

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The Zürich strategy is a good example of how the national strategy of the poly centric urban network based on Rail 2000 could work. However, there are serious differences in interpretation of the network strategy at the national and at the Zürich level. The intention of the federal government is a more balanced development of the urban system all over the country. Zürich on its own would scarcely be competitive enough in Europe. Only an alliance of the Swiss cities, based on complementarity in a network, could offer the critical mass needed in European interregional competition. However, the Zürich point of view is to avoid urban sprawl, to promote sustainable urban development based on public transportation and high-density mixed uses at the railway stations, and at the same time to attract more activities to Zürich. Zürich should develop the range and scale of its activities in order to remain the most important urban centre in Switzerland and to be the German-Swiss bridgehead to Europe and to the world. In favour of this strategy, the Zürich authorities have successfully supported the extension of the Zürich-Kloten airport and they demand from the Swiss Railway Company that the European high-speed railway line from Hamburg to Rome should run through Zürich. Therefore, from a spatial planning view, the Zürich case is an excellent example, but from the point of view of an overall confederation regional development policy there are still many discussions ahead about a reasonable hierarchy in the Swiss poly centric urban network. The treatment of time in the planning process takes into consideration that there is much change to be expected in the economic, technical and social field and that there is growing uncertainty about future development. According to the Federal Spatial Planning Act, the cantonal guiding plans have to be revised comprehensively after ten years. However, they have to be re-examined and adapted earlier if the conditions have changed, if new issues arise or if better solutions are available. This means that, in our fast-changing world, the guiding plans have to be partially revised after only a few years. Therefore, the basic planning philosophy is to have, on the one hand, a robust spatial development strategy that can cope with uncertainty and future change and which should be valid for about ten years, and, on the other hand, to have guiding plans, which will be partly revised in a flexible way at relatively short intervals of about two years. Methods The making of traditional development plans is declining in Switzerland. At present, the main plan-making efforts are concentrated on two points: on the development of comprehensive spatial strategies as a frame of reference, and on action planning at a few important locations, which could be crucial for future development and thus prepare opportunities for beneficial investments in the private sector (e.g. at redevelopment areas near the stations of Rail 2000). Extensive analytical planning studies and the application of mathematical models have been replaced by a planning approach where the solutions are developed and negotiated in frequent meetings with the actors involved. Solution-finding is often based on successful examples that can be seen somewhere else. Good examples of spatial coordination demonstrate that well planned projects not only bring better results in the long run, but that they are also realized faster if opposition is successfully avoided

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through reasonable cooperation from the beginning. An example that supports the acceptance of public transportation is the combined ticket system for all transport companies in the Zürich region. The tickets are valid for every means of transportation: railway, metro, tram, bus, boat or cable car. This arrangement makes public transportation really attractive. Another successful example is the cooperation between the Zürich Public Transport Management and large private companies. These companies, instead of offering free parking to their employees, charge them 50 francs a month for the parking lot. For the same 50 francs they offer a voucher valid for the entire Zürich public transport network. Therefore, many employees decide to travel to work without a car. Thus, the actual role of the professional planner is more and more that of preparing and moderating these negotiation processes. Rather than operating complex computer models, planners have to know good examples about how things are done successfully elsewhere. At the Zürich cantonal level, there has been a shift from a mainly restrictive planning approach (which separates the areas where building is allowed from those where building is not allowed and which leaves the choice of sites completely to the private market), towards a proactive and enabling planning that indicates clearly where the authorities prefer major investments for business activities to take place. For these areas, a close collaboration between private investors and public authorities is planned, because the authorities have to play an active role in order to secure an excellent standard of infrastructure, especially for transportation and telecommunications, and to locate public functions in these areas in order to create additional incentives for private investors. At the town level, there is a shift from the private elaboration of a final urban renewal project, which can be approved or rejected by the town authorities, towards an interactive planning process where the city authorities are involved from the beginning, with advice from local, national and international experts. The result of this process is a fair compromise of advantages and disadvantages for the various partners. This is laid down as a kind of “social contract” in the development framing plan for a certain area. Consequences Although the spatial planning approach has changed considerably in the 1990s, there has been no need for a change in the Swiss planning legislation. Responsibility is well distributed between the three planning levels. It is important, however, that the authorities use the system in a less formal but more flexible way, focusing on the real problems and opportunities for policy-orientated spatial development. Equally important is an intensive cooperation between the three planning levels and an interactive planning process incorporating the private sector and the citizens involved. At the cantonal level, a reasonable compromise between the interests of the economic pressure groups and the urban population has been found. There are encouraging consequences for the private sector. Many investors, who some years ago had no faith in the future attractiveness of Greater Zürich, are now once again convinced that this area will be a good location for investment. In the town of Winterthur, the result of the interactive planning process is a new spirit and a growing self-confidence of the authorities, the population and entrepreneurs. They

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have become accustomed to the idea that the industrial past is over and that the future role of Winterthur will be that of a cultural and business centre. But they are still proud of the industrial past. A town marketing office, to attract investors from abroad, has been established with a budget of 1 million Swiss francs a year, financed in equal parts by the local authorities and by the local private sector. The strategy adopted by the Zürich parliament will be a good example for other cantons in Switzerland to follow. It shows in a reasonable way how to fit into the national spatial strategy. This national strategy aims to provide a physical macro-structure that favours the survival of the Swiss economy (efficient transportation and communications facilities, an attractive system of business centres, etc.) and a micro-structure that offers high-quality living conditions in favourable residential areas and attractive recreational areas. At the national level, there is much confidence that, with an efficient polycentric urban network, Switzerland will be competitive in the worldwide context. At the same time, the country can still develop according to its historic federalistic political system and preserve the cultural variety of the country. The decentralized and inward development will allow the preservation of natural beauty and a high standard of environmental quality, which might be a considerable locational advantage to Switzerland in the long run. Driving forces of innovation In terms of driving forces, economic concerns remain dominant. Swiss business needs better spatial conditions. Following the economic recession in the early 1990s, pressure groups fighting for better locational conditions for economic growth have at present a strong political influence. They have been able to push the authorities at all planning levels to create more favourable conditions for private investment. On the other hand, there is still public support for ecological policies, although this is less strong than during the late 1980s when the Swiss economy was thriving. After the 1992 Rio conference, the ideas of sustainable development have more regional support, partly because one of the leading persons in Rio was the well known Swiss entrepreneur, Stephan Schmidheiny, who was arguing for sustainable development in the business sector (Schmidheiny & UNBCSD 1992). Thus, the Swiss authorities are forced to find a reasonable compromise for spatial development, offering fair conditions for economic development without destroying the country’s natural beauty and excellent environmental quality. Because of the federalist political system in Switzerland, there are strong federal forces that promote the network strategy with the intention to keep the regional centres alive, to offer opportunities for regional and local markets in order to reduce unnecessary mobility, and to support country-wide cultural diversity. Democratic control of spatial planning is still strong in Switzerland. Participation of the population is well organized and frequently used. The Winterthur case shows how the pressure of local people resulted in an initiative for a public development framing plan and thus forced the town authorities to play an active role in the urban renewal process of

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the Sulzer site. This was the starting point for the innovative strategy in the central area of Winterthur. Although Switzerland is not a member of the European Union, it is still not an island within Europe. It is part of a global market and its forces. The impacts of these international forces are increasing. Of special importance are the economic, social and political forces that influence the international migration of companies, as well as the migration of individuals. They might have considerable impact on the future spatial development of the Zürich region and of Switzerland as a whole. Finally, Swiss authorities have to be aware that, since the fall of the Berlin wall, Swiss neutrality is no longer an important locational advantage in international competition. References and further reading Building Department, Town of Winterthur 1992. Report on the test planning for the central area of Winterthur [in German]. Winterthur. Federal Office of Spatial Planning 1994. Guidelines for Swiss spatial development—report for the public hearing [in German]. Bern: BRP. Federal Office of Spatial Planning/Institute for Local, Regional and National Planning at the ETH Zürich 1993. Guidelines for Swiss spatial development—draft report [in German]. Zürich: ETH. IZU, Interest Group of Zürich Companies 1993. Incentives for development of the Zürich area [in German]. Zürich. Ringli, H. 1994. Vernetztes Städtesystem Schweiz. Bulletin 252, ETH, Zürich. Sulzer AG 1992. The SULZER area—opportunities for Winterthur [in German]. Winterthur: Sulzer AG. Schmidheiny S. & UN Business Council for Sustainable Development 1992. Changing course—a global perspective on development and the environment. Cambridge, Massachusetts: MIT Press. Society for Urban Development and Environment Zürich 1994/5. Metropolitan Zürich—projects 1995–2015: a manual for decision-makers. Zürich. State Council Canton Zürich 1992. Spatial planning report of 8 July 1992 [in German]. Zürich. —1995. Cantonal Guiding Plan, 31 January 1995 [in German]. Zürich. Swiss Federal Council 1987. Federal spatial planning report [in German]. Bern: EDMZ.

CHAPTER EIGHT Strategic development planning in western Norway Hordaland County and the City of Bergen Arild Holt-Jensen The context This chapter is concerned with strategic planning for the urban region around Bergen. Bergen, the second largest city of Norway, forms the urban core and it houses half the population of Hordaland County in western Norway (Bergen has 225 000 inhabitants, there are 304000 in the Bergen commuter zone, and in Hordaland in total 420000, or 10 per cent of the Norwegian population). Hordaland is in many respects “an average Norwegian county”, but in one respect it is exceptional, as it contains one major city, which is oversize in relation to its hinterland. Located in southern Norway, Hordaland is certainly not a peripheral region. But the county has poor road and rail access, being to a large extent dependent upon ferry and boat transport to reach international markets. Agricultural land is sparse and scattered. As mountains and fjords dominate the scenery, tourist attractions are abundant, as is hydropower. The latter is the basis for powerconsuming manufacturing, notably aluminium and ferro-alloy smelters. Shipping, shipyards and yards building rigs for the offshore industries are important parts of the industrial picture, as well as fish farming and all “upstream” and “downstream” production and services connected to maritime activities and fishing. Services and industries connected to the offshore petroleum activity are of growing importance, including one large oil refinery and units for processing and transport of natural gas. The geographical situation Norway has a peripheral location in relation to the central parts of Europe. With a population of only 4.3 million, it covers a larger land area (387000km2) than Germany. The sea areas under Norwegian control are more than twice the land area. The fish and energy resources are of particular importance. Hydropower is the single source of electricity production, which is the highest per capita in any country. Petroleum resources on the continental shelf make Norway at present the second largest exporting country of crude oil (after Saudi Arabia). Norway thus has rich supplies of natural resources that are scarce in Europe (hydropower, oil, natural gas, fish and space), but lacks other resources and assets that are abundant in central Europe (agricultural resources, market potential, private investment capital).

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The socio-economic context Because of its small market and particular resource situation, Norway has a very open and export-import-orientated economy. There is a long tradition of private investment in international shipping, but in general there is a scarcity of private capital for investment in land-based industry. The only firms of real international importance are Hydro (a shareholding company in which the Norwegian state owns 51 per cent, the other major shareholders being foreign) and Statoil (a completely state-owned company), although the construction and rig-building firm, Kvaerner Ltd, is growing to international importance. Although Norway has a high income per capita and needs open access to international markets for its mainly natural resource-based exports, there are fewer benefits from the free movement of capital. Since 1917, Norway has had concession laws to secure national control over its natural resources, and still most Norwegians regard free movement of capital as a threat to the country’s industrial base. This was a main reason for the majority vote against joining the European Union in 1994. The European Economic Area agreement made earlier had, however, already opened up the Norwegian economy to international capital movements. The referendum vote could not stop the consequences. Regional policy: challenging the rural bias The structural changes in production have led to increasing levels of unemployment in Norway as in most other western European countries. At present, unemployment is higher in some of the more important city regions than in the peripheral parts of the country. Young people move to the cities to be educated for jobs that the districts cannot offer. Most women, as well as men, are working. The one-sided and often seasonal industries on the periphery have to find foreign labour; while their educated youngsters go unemployed in the cities. Still, there is no national spatial policy to increase the competitiveness of the more important Norwegian city regions. The aim of the national regional policy through all the years since 1945 has been to maintain settlement in all parts of the country. The policy has aimed to curb the growth of the largest urban centres. This growth seemed to create rural depopulation. This policy has been aided by the particular Norwegian political structure. The “green corner” in politics has been able to secure support for “the (rural) districts” from rural voters as well as from the urban middle class and intelligentsia. The Norwegian system of agricultural subsidies has, for this reason, a much higher regional and social profile than that which dominates in EU policy-thinking. Although the amount of money transfers from urban to rural areas is likely to be reduced over the years, this is not because of opposition from a strong urban lobby. The support for farming and rural landscapes is politically connected to the national identity of the people, as in Switzerland (Rönningen 1994). Norwegian culture is rural and nature-related rather than urban. However, Norwegian regional policy will probably change in the coming years in order to give more priority to the Norwegian city regions and their competitiveness on the international scene. This, however, is a “new thought”, which, so far, only the conservatives have dared to utter officially. Only in the past few years have there been clear tendencies to talk about Bergen as the “locomotive” of Hordaland County. Most people regard Norway as being in the periphery of Europe in any case. As the country is

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rich, with high general wage levels and welfare costs, in processed goods it is difficult to compete on the basis of price. The distance to core markets adds to this difficulty. It is, thus, in the interests of the country to have full national control over natural resources of fish, oil, gas and hydropower. The spatial planning context The authoritarian tradition in European urban planning (Burtenshaw et al. 1991) has been less well developed in Norway than in major central and southern European countries. Norway abandoned its feudal structure and its nobility in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. In the eighteenth century, political development was dominated by freeholding farmers, owning small and medium-size farm units. The only upper classes were the small group of civil servants, fish merchants, sawmill owners and ship owners. This is the basis for the strong utilitarian tradition in Norwegian planning, where the merchants in the towns and farmers in the rural districts built how and where they found most practical. Norway has a three-tiered level of administration and planning: national, county and municipality. In addition, the larger cities are divided into townships, with elected township councils that have limited power with respect to local issues. There is, as yet, no national strategic spatial planning to supplant the former regional policy, which was favouring rural districts. However, national roads and railways are planned and paid for through the national budgets. The county is an administrative level of minor importance, but has its own budgets to finance hospitals, high schools and county roads. However, the counties have the obligation to produce county plans, but, so far, these have not been physical plans to guide municipal developments. The municipalities resent any such encroachment on their independence, but recently most counties have presented strategic plans for their economic development. The first Hordaland County strategic plan was presented in 1992. Development planning in Norway is more or less synonymous with municipal planning; physical planning is primarily a municipal responsibility; social and economic planning is to a larger extent in the hands of the national government. But the implementation of social welfare services, in the context of national standards, is the responsibility of the municipalities. Municipal self-government is strong in Norway, and municipal consumption and investments make up as much as 16 per cent of the gross national product (GNP). Property tax is of minor importance,1 a political result of the fact that the majority of the taxpayers and voters live in a privately owned house or farm. But most of the direct income tax is a municipal tax. The costs of social services, care of old people, primary schools and kindergartens, make up around 70 per cent of the average municipal budget. As welfare services are the primary responsibility of the municipality, and local social planning is needed to create optimum welfare for the money available, it seems reasonable to integrate physical, social and economic planning at the municipal level in larger municipalities, and even at the township (“Kommunedel”) level. The Planning and 1. It is non-existent in many rural municipalities.

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Building Act of 1985 states that each municipality is entitled to prepare a comprehensive municipal plan (“Kommuneplan”), integrating the planning of the various functions of government. Larger municipalities may prepare integrated plans for subdivisions of the administrative unit (“Kommunedel plan”). Both “Kommuneplan and “Kommunedelplan” must be regarded as development plans. In the 1990s, however, many municipalities started to prepare strategic plans for industrial development as well, using new methods and organization forms. This planning activity has been inspired by the strategic planning model as developed by Steiner (1979) for the private sector and adapted for the public sector by Bryson et al. (1988). The first Bergen strategic industrial plan was presented in January 1995. The strategic planning model The major features of the strategic planning model have been summarized by Miller & Holt-Jensen (1997) as incorporating a longer-term perspective for management; an environmental scan and resource audit; using SWOT analysis; identification and involvement of stakeholders in order to produce “commitment packages”; the use of a limited number of goals and objectives, which is regarded as a more practical approach for changes and improvements than comprehensive, all-embracing planning; and a key role for monitoring, feedback and revision. In Norway, Pedersen et al. (1988) proposed the use of the strategic planning model for economic development planning in the public sector. Counties and larger municipalities have adopted the model, more or less in its original form, involving a limited number of stakeholders in the process. On the other hand, Amdam & Amdam (1990) have developed a method (“Dugnadsmetoden”) for broadly participative, “strategic and mobilizing”, comprehensive municipal planning. They primarily make use of an adaptation of the SWOT analysis, combined with a broad participation throughout the planning process. Their proposal has a political basis in the Norwegian Planning and Building Act of 1985, which calls for early and continuous participation in the planning process. They report success with the method in a number of municipalities in western Norway with smaller populations (Fig. 8.1).

Figure 8.1 SWOT analysis for a participative comprehensive planning. These two, somewhat different, interpretations of the strategic planning model have inspired, respectively, the “strategic economic plan for Hordaland County” and the

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locally based “Kommunedelplan Landås” discussed in this chapter. In a short time, strategic planning has become very fashionable in Norwegian planning culture. The case of Bergen and Hordaland County The case study analyzes the economic development of Hordaland and Bergen, as developed in the Hordaland County Strategic Plan for Economic Development: 1992–95 (Hordaland Fylkeskommune 1991). Some comments will be made as well with respect to the Strategic Plan for Economic Development in Bergen (Bergen Kommune 1995). Additional material has been found in transport plans for the Bergen region. A local case, the Landås “Kommunedelplan”, has been added in order to analyze the effects, and possible conflicts, arising from strategic planning modelled on the “bottom-up” interpretation as presented by Amdam & Amdam (1990). The Hordaland plan was written by the secretariat of the Hordaland County Economic Development Department on the basis of discussions in a steering group. This group based its decisions on recommendations from a larger group of representatives from the public and private sectors. Underlying reports on industrial tendencies and structures in the county had been prepared by the Centre for Industrial Research at the Norwegian School of Economics and Business Administration. The Bergen strategic economic plan had a geographer in the city administration as secretary, but the plan as such was developed by the politicians in the Industry and Communication Committee of the city. Information reports were prepared by research institutions and the administration. The Landås township plan was initiated by the township council and started as a bottom-up process involving the general public. The final plan was prepared by the physical planning department in the town administration. The Bergen Comprehensive Municipal Plan itself is now (1996) being prepared by the city administration staff, based on material from all the sectors in the administration (education, social welfare, culture, industry, transport and physical planning). (The preparation process for this plan is not discussed in detail in this chapter.) The key issues of substantive policy focus on three themes. The first is a new regional policy for Hordaland, centred on Bergen as a “locomotive” for future economic development in western Norway. The second is the strengths and weaknesses, opportunities and threats for the Bergen urban region and the county in relation to future international and national economic and transport networks. The third is conflicts arising from a new environmental urban policy advocating reduced urban sprawl, combined with the “condensation” (concentration) of new housing within the built-up area. The key institutional issues are primarily concerned with the plan-making procedures. The partnership between public institutions and industrial organizations and labour unions has been regarded as crucial for producing a positive environment for implementing the strategic plan for economic development. This type of corporatist partnership in the strategic plans for Hordaland and Bergen may, however, conflict with broader public participation in the planning process, as tried out in the Landås case. The changing institutional relations, with corporatist partnership and a broader participation in the planning process, may be regarded as innovative both nationally and internationally.

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In the national context, strategic planning for an urban region is in itself a new thing and as such is innovative. In the account that follows, the discussion progresses through the Hordaland County plan to the economic development strategy for Bergen. Finally, a participatory exercise in Landås in Bergen is presented. The institutional relations, policy agendas and methods used are interwoven in this presentation. Conclusions on these headings are drawn together at the end of the chapter. Making a strategic plan for economic development in Hordaland County Hordaland County Council’s decision to start the process of strategic economic development planning arose from various pressures. One was the perceived need to develop an integrated industrial policy for the whole county. A second was a desire to be able to anticipate the most important challenges that had to be met in the county in the near future. A third was to construct a specific, goal-orientated mechanism that would enable the county council to guide industrial development in active collaboration with local authorities and industry. Finally, the county hoped to make regional and district policy programmes more effective and goal-orientated. The strategic development plan consisted of two main elements; a long-term strategy and a programme of action. For the county: the process of developing a methodology for economic development is at least as important as the planning document itself. The idea has been to ensure the active participation in the process of a wide range of business organizations, the trade union movement, central and local government, political bodies and organizations. (Hordaland Fylkeskommune 1991:3) The plan-making was as such a collaborative effort in order to get the different partners dedicated to and involved in the implementation of “our plan”. The organization of planmaking was, thus, of crucial importance. The planning process was headed by a steering group, which included the chair of the Hordaland County Council Planning Committee (chair, a politician); the head of the Economic Development Department, Hordaland County Council (an official), the head of the Planning Department, Hordaland County Council (an official), a representative of the Norwegian Federation of Trade Unions, and a representative from the Confederation of Norwegian Business and Industry. There was, in addition, a much larger process group, consisting of around 40 representatives of the public and private sectors in the county. The settled land area of the county is very divided into thousands of islands, by fjords and uninhabited mountain stretches (see Fig. 8.2). Access between the urban core and its hinterland is thus a major issue, as are the transport links with Europe and the rest of Norway. Transportation costs in Norway are among the highest in the world. In western Norway, the transport costs add on average 20 per cent to the manufacturing production costs, whereas the average in the whole of Norway is 13 per cent and around 8 per cent in Denmark and Sweden. There is only one single track railroad in the county leading from Oslo to its destination in Bergen. Even though huge investments in road buildings have been made in recent decades, there are still national highways and highways classified as

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main European routes that only have a single track width on certain stretches. Frequent ferry crossings lengthen the journey, and mountain roads are often closed in the winter period. The SWOT analysis undertaken in the report drew on a range of studies including a “Porter” analysis of industrial clusters.2 It concluded that uncompetitive land-based communications infrastructure was a main weakness of the county and Bergen. However, sea and air communications are reasonably well developed. Other weaknesses identified were the lack of equity capital, the under-utilization of industrial potential, as to a great extent, local industry exports raw materials, and the lack of intersectoral coordination. The strengths of the county were identified as the enormous resources of hydroelectric power, oil, natural gas, the natural environmental qualities, creating the basis for commercial activities and production in fisheries, aquaculture and tourism, and a complex and broadly based industrial structure. In addition, Bergen was recognized as a national centre of varied industries, research and education, with top-level international expertise in several fields. It was also a strategic location relative to important international markets around the North Sea and in North America, but well away from other major national markets. Bergen is an historic town, and to some extent is still an international trading post based on the utilization of natural resources, although its role as a Hanseatic fish trading entrepôt is long gone. As Reve & Osland (1995) state, a main asset of the industrial milieu in Bergen is still the innovative international trading spirit and entrepreneurship, embedded particularly in the maritime activities. The strategic plan for Hordaland stated as its primary aim to provide for development of 30000 new jobs by the end of the century, in order to achieve full employment. This was to be achieved through closer interaction between the public and the private sectors. Based on the strengths of the region, the plan defined six strategies to reach this goal. The first is adding value by a greater degree of processing of natural resources. The second is to increase exports. The third is to reinforce the role of Bergen as the “motor” for industrial development in the county. The fourth is to encourage centres of expertise in Hordaland to focus on industrial requirements. The fifth is to stimulate innovation. The final strategy is to reduce transport costs between the county and its most important markets. I will comment only upon the second, third and final of these strategies as they are linked to geographical and physical planning strategies. In order to increase exports, Hordaland County Council, Bergen City Council and some industrial companies joined in a collaborative effort to create strategic alliances with overseas regions. Some of this work was pursued through the North Sea Commission, which is a cooperative organization between the counties (second tier of government) bordering the North Sea in the UK, Netherlands, Germany, Denmark, Sweden and Norway. Others are particular schemes for export promotion and for cooperation with particular firms in other parts of Europe (Niedersachsen, Wales, Falkirk, Lower Normandy, the Orkneys, and northern England).

2. This refers to the analysis by Porter (1990).

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Figure 8.2 Bergen and some of the neighbouring municipalities in Hordaland County. Landås makes up a part of the urbanized area south of Bergen centre. Important industrial development areas are marked with hatched squares: Sandsli and Kokstad near Bergen airport in the municipality contain a variety of production and service industries, including oil company offices—(1) Mongstad oil refinery, (2) Sture terminal for Oseberg oil pipeline, (3) Kollsnes terminal for Troll gas pipeline, (4) Ågotnes petroleum service base, (5) Hanøy rigbuilding site. (Source: Magne Helvig, Dept of Geography, U. of Bergen).

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Related to this effort is the strategy for better transport links (Fig. 8.3). A main task is to strengthen the coastal main road from Trondheim to Bergen, Stavanger and Kristiansand. At present, this main road is fragmented by many ferry crossings and stretches of poor standard. To improve this to a satisfactory standard will take around 1100 million ECU and would still include six ferry crossings. A ferryfree coastal road would require 2400 million ECU in investments. Better coordination between the different means of transport, the important sea routes to north Norway, Britain and Denmark, and the road connections and the railway line to Oslo, are of equal importance. Travelling time by rail between Oslo and Bergen could be reduced from 6.7 hours to 4.5 hours, based on more tunnels and the straightening of the single-line track. The strategic development plan for Hordaland stresses the importance of Bergen as the “motor” for industrial development. But because of Norwegian regional policies, the National Regional Development Fund, which for Hordaland is administered by the Economic Development Department of the county, was of marginal relevance for meeting the objectives of the plan, when it was presented in 1991. Finance from the fund was, at the time the plan was presented in 1991, available only to 26 communes considered “marginal”. These communes could receive a maximum grant of 35 per cent of the total costs of a project. This programme could not be put into effect in Bergen and its immediate surroundings. But in 1992, the national policy was changed. Although marginal districts still

Figure 8.3 Main strategies for transport links for Bergen and Hordaland.

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have some benefits that the core cities do not have. Central municipalities can also now get development grants. In a re-evaluation of the strategic economic development plan for Hordaland in 1995, it was stated that, although many new jobs had already been created, the main aim of creating 30000 new jobs before the end of the century was Utopian and should be revised. A revision of the plan is now under way. A main problem for a plan at the county level is that, because of its lack of political and economic power, the county is dependent on other actors, both public and private, to implement the concrete projects. In some cases the county will act as a mediator. This was the case with respect to the objective of improving Bergen’s position as a “communications centre”. Here the actual physical plans were dependent upon the planning process in Bergen and the other municipalities, whereas the financing will mainly come through national budgets from the Ministry of Communications. With respect to the objective of “developing adventure products for tourism”, the whole implementation was to be by local private and municipal actors. The county-level planning can thus be seen as a source of inspiration, but in Norway the municipalities are in a much better position to take direct initiatives and take part in the implementation of programmes of action than the county. Strategic development planning for Bergen In 1995, Bergen municipality adopted a strategic plan for economic development in Bergen, employing several major ideas from the strategic planning model (Bryson et al. 1988, Pedersen et al. 1988). The organization was, however, different from the one chosen in Hordaland County in having a much stronger political basis. In Bergen, the steering group consisted of the politically elected committee for industry and communications in the town council. The town administration division for industry and communications acted as the secretariat, and representatives of important stakeholder groups in local industries, research and labour organizations took an active part in five different programme groups. The plan itself differs from the Hordaland plan in not presenting any SWOT analysis. The plan is primarily a programme document stating visions, amis, strategies and a rather detailed action programme. To a much larger extent than the county plan, which had to “give something” to all parts of the region, the Bergen strategic plan focused on a limited number of goals and objectives. The plan proposed to focus local economic development efforts on three industrial sectors, which are currently important in Bergen and which appear to have potential for growth: maritime industries and shipping, the fishery-related industries, and tourism. The maritime sector represents the only real industrial cluster in the Bergen region. The ship-owning companies are the core actors, around which are connected locally based services such as shipbrokers and maritime insurance companies. In addition, there is still one shipbuilding yard left, although the production of fittings for ships is much more important. Total Transportation Services (TTC) has gone one step further, in selling know-how on the construction of shipbuilding yards on the international market (Osland 1993). Petroleum-related industries, and some other important industrial sectors, have been left out. This can be explained by the fact that the actors and decisionmakers in the petroleum business operate at the national and international levels. Also, Stavanger

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became the petroleum capital at an early date. Nevertheless, the oil industry has created many jobs in the Bergen region. The Bergen plan has been criticized for only giving priority to some industrial sectors, as the main asset of Bergen is its entrepreneurial spirit, which time and again has opened up new and unexpected niches for production and trade. Two new success stories are the Rieber Consortium, going international in producing and selling dry soups and other food products, and NERA electronics producing and selling telecommunication system packages (Reve & Osland 1995). These are not included in the industrial clusters of the action plan, although they also represent the middle tier of Bergen-based industrial actors upon whom a strategy for local economic development must rely. The action programme set up in the plan is rather detailed, realistic and concrete. It also forms a “commitment package”, as the important actors that can carry the programme through were represented in the programme groups that prepared the plan. Despite criticism of its limited scope, the plan itself may become a success (although it is too soon to tell at the time of writing!). One major problem remains, however. Strategic development planning, both at the county and the municipal level, has created a strong liaison between already influential stakeholders at the top level in the private and the public domain. This might reduce the possibilities for minor stakeholders or the general public to be heard in important local issues. Conflicts may arise between industrial development at a certain site, presented as a “plan priority”, and local environmental interests. In order to present the case for such stakeholder groups, the Landås “Kommunedelplan” was developed, inspired partly by Amdam & Amdam’s (1990) interpretation of the strategic model and the “workbook method” as developed for public participation by Oraug (1988). The participation of industrial interest groups in the planning process might promote industrial development and innovations. But, as an example, for industrial interests, transport infrastructure means a “serviceable” road system, good freight systems by shipping lines, and good air connections for business travellers. A metro or an efficient bus system for public transport, which is the most important local issue for environmental interest groups, does not fit into these industrial groups’ ideas of transport needs. The building of an efficient public transport system in the form of a metro seems unlikely in Bergen, although there has been a political majority vote in favour of it in order to make possible environmentally sound urban development. The building of a metro may have to be financed completely by the city itself, whereas building main roads is a national concern. It also seems politically impossible to take money from the present toll on car access to the city and to transfer this to the building of a metro system. There will be more or less open opposition from the stakeholders taking part in the economic strategic planning groups. They maintain that all the money is needed for road improvements. It is often said that “Bergen is too small a city for a metro or fast tramcar lines”. The Landås case 3

Landås By del was primarily developed for housing after the Second World War, in the period 1947–60. In Bergen’s comprehensive “Kommuneplan” (Community Plan) for 3. bydel: “town part” or “township”.

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1989–2000, Landås was presented as completely developed. But new political signals originating in environmental concerns, which advocated a concentrated city and reducing further urban sprawl, put pressure on the remaining open space at Landås. New housing projects were put forwards by cooperative housing corporations and private developers. They spotted remaining open, often green, areas and sought building permits to develop these for new housing schemes. The local population protested against projects that seemed to encroach on their living environment. And the local Landås Township Council (“Bydelsutvalg”) found it very difficult to handle the situation, primarily because all decisions were taken by Bergen City Council. The township council has consultative power only in physical planning matters. Furthermore, the physical plans of the area were rather old and no longer provided an effective guide to development. So, the township council asked for some money to initiate the work on a “Kommunedelplan”. The initiative was based on the Planning and Building Act of 1985, which called for extensive public participation in a new emphasis on a bottom-up planning process. A “workbook” was prepared and 2000 copies were printed for distribution to the population living in Landås. It started with a presentation of the township, and the physical plans that had guided the development, or had been overruled by operational decisions. The interactive portion of the workbook presented fourteen topics or issues to be discussed and answered by the general public. The workbook was presented to the public at four large meetings in the local schools and through the press, local clubs, church organizations, political groups, and so on. People in general were invited to form study groups to answer the questions set up in the workbook. Many groups were formed, but only about 35 groups delivered workbooks with all answers filled in. Although this meant that only about 1 per cent of the population had actually taken part in the process, the answers sent in seemed to be representative of the population. The workbook and the process were clearly a result of integrative thinking. Most themes integrated physical, social and economic planning issues. Physical planning was seen as an aid to improve the social structure of the community and make better use of existing infrastructure. In this sense, the “Kommunedelplan” could be seen as a development plan based on the needs of the local society, from the bottom up. When all answers had been presented and conclusions made, the township council unanimously gave its consent to the guidelines for a township plan. These guidelines were rather concrete regarding areas to be developed and areas to be kept as parks or green space. They also clearly stated aims for population development, schools, home help services, social care, child care, retirement homes, types of housing and so on, and presented a plan for pedestrian paths and cycle tracks. But this was only the basic material, as the actual “Kommunedelplan”, in accordance with the Planning and Building Act, had to be produced by the municipal administration and presented for political decision in the town council. The work was taken over by the Municipal Physical Planning Department, but the intention was that other functional departments should make their contributions to the plan. The “grassroots” part of the work carried out by the Landås Council aimed to achieve an integrated plan. But the effect of giving the work to the physical planning department was that the other departments did not feel required to participate to the necessary degree. The professional

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ambitions and abilities of the Physical Planning Department took over the lead. “Architectonic place analysis” is at present rather popular and it was argued internally that this would be needed. This created more basic material for the Landås Kommunedelplan (1994), which was passed by the Bergen City Council in January 1996. This is a physical plan, which is much needed, and so is welcomed by the Landås Township Council. But in a way it is both too much and too little. It puts too much emphasis on the physical side, with almost nothing on the social and economic sides. Although the intention by the residents and the Township Council had been that this planning process would emphasize a bottom-up approach as suggested by the Amdam & Amdam (1990) interpretation of strategic planning, this intention was partly frustrated once the initial phase of the project was submitted to the municipal government. In retrospect, a wider set of stakeholders should have been involved at an early stage, including cooperative housing developers, private developers, central planners and leading elected officials of the municipality. The politics of the city hall might then have been anticipated in the environmental review undertaken by actors at the township level. The lessons of the case study Institutional innovations The strategic planning model as adopted for economic development planning in Hordaland County and Bergen Municipality has provided new, and possibly more effective, alliances in the planning process between private actors in industry, representatives from the trade unions, public planning bodies and the politicians in the county and city. This has created a more realistic understanding of the economic opportunities and threats for the region as created by the international economic situation. Such broader participation in the planning process is encouraged by national policy, as it is also a prerequisite for development plan preparation in the Planning and Building Act of 1985. There is, however, a conflict, over process, as well as over policy content between general public participation as in the Landås case, and the participation of stronger interest groups in industry, as in the strategic development plans for Bergen and Hordaland. To be realistic, even a local Landås plan needed to involve more stakeholders than local residents and service providers. As in the Winterthur case (see Ch. 7), formal groups should have been set up to include cooperation between the town authorities (politicians and central planners), private investors and the local population. At present, there is a discussion taking place which is contrasting broad participation in the planning process and the requirements for efficiency. The strategic planning model as adopted by the county and by Bergen Municipality seems to be favoured by the top administration and politicians. The reasons for this might be that it results in planning documents that are short and concrete, inexpensive to produce and easy to read. Another advantage is that the approach involves major stakeholders. This results in obtaining a commitment to carry the projects through, which leads to more effective implementation in contrast with the many expensive physical plans, prepared previously. Further, the approach keeps political control at the top level. The top politicians are directly involved and they make the decisions on the basis of cooperation with private investors.

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The preparation of new “kommunedelplans” after the Landås model has now been called off as they are seen to be too time-consuming and too expensive. Furthermore, local participation might create unrealistic proposals and demands. New actors were involved in the planning process in both the Landås plan and the strategic economic plans. In the process, all participating actors influenced the final plans, although the formal decisions are made exclusively by the politically elected representatives in the county and municipal councils. The influence of the participants is through the social learning processes in the different committees and the “workbook” groups. The participants in the development of the strategic economic plan will, however, be actively engaged in the implementation of the plans. And they will probably be called in again to partake in new plan-making efforts. The broad public participation at Landås may, however, be a one-off experiment, never to be repeated, as bottom-up interests have became too strong and have frustrated the control by central politicians and administrators. The innovations will probably lead to changes in the relations between public authorities and land and property market actors, as more effort will be made to provide industrial innovators and investors with the land they think they need for development. As detailed action plans for economic development are agreed, the municipality has a responsibility to make the land for implementation of these plans effectively and expediently available. In line with this, work on a new “Kommunedelplan” for an industrial corridor in the Bergen valley started in autumn 1995. The whole strategic planning model requires new skills from the planners. They have to learn to act as mediators and bargainers, rather than merely as planmakers. In the strategic economic plans, the planners, particularly in the Bergen case, acted as secretaries, only writing down the results of the discussions between the stakeholders. In the Landås plan this was not the case, as the planners did not take part in the local part of the process. This proved to be a deficiency as they worked on it in a traditional way when the planners in the Bergen municipality took over the process. Substantive policy contents In substantive planning policy, Norway is catching up with similar developments elsewhere in Europe. A striking innovation in the planning efforts is the new emphasis on proactive economic development. Combined with a recognition of the internationalization of industry now taking place, regardless of the EU referendum, and the need to reposition economic activity in relation to the new European and global economic space, there is a new emphasis on urban areas, replacing the long-established tradition of developing the facilities of the more rural districts. As in other European countries, there is an increased interest in urban centre housing as well. This is combined with an environmental policy to concentrate development within the existing built-up areas in order to reduce transport and emissions from vehicles. But Norway is perhaps in an avant-garde position when it comes to integrative planning and public participation. Comprehensive municipal plans are expected to integrate the social, economic, environmental and physical aspects of their local communities, and there is a tendency towards more local planning (“kommunedelplans”) as well. However, this tendency was somewhat frustrated in the Landås case.

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New methods in planning The Norwegian interpretations of the strategic planning model seem to have led to two partly different planning methods. The first involves the use of the strategic planning model in economic development plans. Here, strategic planning has provided some new content, some new innovations in techniques employed such as assessment of a broader range of constraints and options, and an increased attention to linking strategy to precise policy aims and actions. The case demonstrates the usefulness of involving major stakeholders in commitment packages. The focusing on selected goals, rather than attempting to be comprehensive in listing and prioritizing, has, however, been met with some criticism. The second involves the use of broad participation as advocated by Amdam & Amdam (1990) and Oraug (1988) and the application of SWOT analysis in the social learning during the planning process. These methods have been successfully applied in some small municipalities, to develop both comprehensive municipal plans and economic development plans. But it has not yet been demonstrated that it is a good method for broad participation in larger municipalities in Norway. Conclusion In comprehensive municipal planning, as stated in the Planning and Building Law of 1985, an integration of functional planning is required, as well as a degree of public participation. But in a large municipality such as Bergen, public participation is limited to extensive hearings, whereas the plan is prepared by the head of the municipal administration in collaboration with the leading politicians. However, a real bottom-up process with broad public participation from the very start in the comprehensive municipal plan-making process inspired by Amdam & Amdam (1990) has been tried out in some small municipalities. This was also the intention of the Landås plan, and the material prepared through the public participation process was taken seriously and integrated into the plan. But the intended functional integration was frustrated in the latter part of the planning process, and some of the local intentions and suggestions were thus lost. A more direct application of the strategic planning model was used in the strategic economic development plans for Hordaland and Bergen. The collaborative efforts of industrial leaders, top politicians and the public administration may seem a success to the degree that concrete action programmes are implemented. But it failed to consider all potential segments of industrial innovation. In addition, as the economic strategic plans do not include physical development plans, conflicts may arise when general recommendations on transport development and industrial growth have to be translated into specific proposals in terms of physical area planning. After the municipal election of September 1995, a declared environmentalist, liberal Gunn Vivian Eide, was elected as the political head of the Physical Planning Committee. Her first challenge was a letter from the industrialists, who had taken part in the Strategic Economic Plan for Bergen, in which they demanded an answer about her attitude to the recommendations in the plan, particularly with regard to road and harbour developments. By spring 1996, proposals to build a metro and reduce private car access to the city centre were creating harsh political

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conflicts. The tension between economic and environmental priorities in the Bergen area continues. It has been argued that, in Norway, social democracy gave up its ambitions of a centrally governed welfare state in the 1980s, concluding that Keynesianism is not applicable in a post-modern society. Planning as an activity has been heavily criticized and politicians have pointed to the many expensive plans that were never implemented. But while the integration of planning over several tiers of government was deemphasized, local and regional planning has not been weakened, but has instead been given additional responsibilities and freedom to develop locally appropriate strategies. To succeed in a world increasingly dominated by the quaternary sector,4 regions must compete by developing their institutional capabilities, including knowledge, creativity and communications. The knowledge to create viable and environmentally sound local communities is not a unique competence of professional planners, but must include that of residents and businesses, available only through broad participation. Such possibilities are offered by the strategic planning model, but as demonstrated by the case, the ideal planning procedures are still to be developed. References and further reading Amdam, J. & R.Amdam 1990. Strategisk og mobiliserende planlegging: kommuneplanlegging etter dugnadsmetoden [Strategic and mobilizing planning: municipal planning according to the “dugnads” method]. Oslo: Det Norske Samlaget. Bergen Kommune 1995. Kommunedelplan Landås [main report and four supporting reports]. Bergen. Bergen Kommunalavdeling næring og samferdsel 1995. Strategisk næringsplan for Bergen [Strategic economic development plan for Bergen]. Bergen. Bryson, J.M. et al. 1988. Strategic planning for public and nonprofit organizations. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Burtenshaw, D., M. Bateman, G.J. Ashworth 1991. The west European city: a Western perspective. London: David Fulton Hordaland Fylkeskommune 1991. Strategisk næringsplan for Hordaland [Strategic economic development plan for Hordaland]. Bergen: Hordaland Fylkeskommune, Bergen. —1993. Fylkesdelplan for transport og utbyggingsmönster i Bergensomradet [County plan for transport and development pattern in the Bergen region]. Bergen: Hordaland Folkeskommune. Miller, D. & A.Holt-Jensen 1997. Bergen, Norway, and Seattle, USA: a tale of strategic planning in two cities. European Planning Studies 5. Oraug, J. 1988. Medvirkning i offentlig planlegging.10 års erfaringer med arbeidsbokmetoden [Participation in public planning: ten years of experience with the “workbook” method]. Oslo: Norsk Byggtjeneste. Osland, O. 1993. Det marine Bergen [Maritime Bergen]. SNF-rapport56/93, Senter for Naeringslivsforskning, Bergen. Pedersen, I.A., H.G.Auganes, J.Kuvåg 1988. Stragegiutvikling og ledelse i offentlige virksomheter [Strategy development and management in public establishments]. Trondheim: Tapir Porter, M. 1990. The competitive advantage of nations. London: Macmillan.

4. The “quaternary sector” refers to the new information segment of the services sector.

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Reve, T. & O.Osland 1995. Kremmerbyen mellom Norge og verdensmarkedet [The merchant city between Norway and the world market]. SNF-rapport 73–95, Senter for Naeringslivsforskning, Bergen. Rönningen, K. 1994. Multi-functional agriculture in Europe’s play ground. Policies and measures for cultural landscapes. Land use planning and agricultural policies in Switzerland. Occasional paper, Department of Geography, University of Trondheim. Steiner, G.A. 1979. Strategic planning: what every manager must know. New York: Free Press.

CHAPTER NINE Rhetoric and reality in British structure planning in Lancashire, 1993–5 Simin Davoudi, Patsy Healey, Angela Hull The case examined in this chapter is the making of a new structure plan for the county of Lancashire, in the northwest region of England (Fig. 9.1). This illustrates both the new impetus for strategic planning in England and the significance of economic and environmental considerations in this. It also shows how British centralism and the functional organization of government still constrain the possibilities of building new and more local forms of policy articulation and coordination, although vigorous efforts are being made in this direction. The plan-making effort was centred in the planning department of Lancashire County Council, but drew upon contributions from the county districts, informal regional policy arenas involving business groups and local environmental forums. This represents an important shift from early planning practices, where plan-making was largely contained within the professional-administrative arena. Context The northwest region extends from an industrial and commercial heartland in the south around Greater Manchester and Merseyside, to the holiday coasts of Blackpool and Morecambe Bay in the west, the old textile towns along the edge of the Pennine Hills to the east, and the edge of the Lake District to the north. Economic and environmental conditions vary substantially across the region. Most of the region has European Union Regional Policy Objective 1, 2 or 5b status. Capturing national and EU subsidy is a key preoccupation of all public sector and local economic actors. The County of Lancashire forms the central and northern part of the region. Within the county, there has been a strong core of growth in the south, around Preston and Chorley. In the mid-1980s, defence companies were an important component of the local economy, with British Aerospace being the largest single employer in the county. By the 1990s, several of these companies were faced with restructuring as a result of changes in the defence sector. This generated both pressure for the re-use of large sites, and local political concerns about job creation, a continuing preoccupation in the county. Despite growth around Preston, the regional economy had many vulnerable large companies and relatively weak growth in new companies. Lancashire contains two new towns initiated in the late 1960s, Central Lancashire, between Preston and Chorley, and Skelmersdale in the southwest. Both have contributed over the years to the supply of sites for economic activity and for housing, but their new-town status was removed in the 1990s. This process generated further development as remaining assets were sold off. In 1993,

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Lancashire had a population of 1.4 million, (the northwest region’s population was over 6.5 million). During the 1980s, population decline hit Lancashire as a whole, with only the north of the county experiencing growth.

Figure 9.1 Lancashire in northwest England. Lancashire county council has responsibility for strategic planning, transport, waste and minerals planning, as well as social services and education. Districts within the

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county also have planning powers. The county has been in the control of the Labour Party for many years.1 All counties are required by national legislation to prepare structure plans and to review them every five years. Structure plans incorporate national and regional planning policy into a county strategy and provide a context for local plans and district planning policy. County planning activity is thus a middle tier in a three-tier planning system. Lancashire’s history of structure plan preparation is shown in Table 9.1. The focus of this case study is on the most recent plan exercise. The timescale of the plan, as required by government, is 15 years, that is, from 1991 to 2006. Structure plans are required by

Table 9.1 Structure planning in Lancashire: 1972– 95. 1974 Reorganization of local government (county and districts) A. Northeast Lancashire Structure Plan 1972 Northeast Lancashire Plan, A Report on Subregional Development, the basis for preparation of the Structure Plan August 1978 Submission to central government November Approval by central government 1979 B. Central and North Lancashire Structure Plan October 1979 Report of Survey, first stage of plan preparation March 1981 Submission to central government February Approval by central government following modification 1983 March, Publication of the approved Structure Plan (Written Statement and August 1993 Explanatory Memorandum respectively) C. Lancashire Structure Plan (reviewed and combined A and B) 1980–1984 Annual Monitoring Report, no need for Report of Survey March 1986 Submission to central government February Examination in Public 1988 December Approval by central government following modification 1989 March 1991 Publication of the approved Structure Plan (Written Statement) following one year delay due to the plan being challenged in a High Court Appeal relating to the boundary around one small town D. Lancashire Structure Plan, Greening the Red Rose County (will replace C) 1990 Lancashire Structure Plan Monitoring Report October 1993 Publication of consultation draft (Written Statement and Explanatory Memorandum) September Publication of deposit draft (Written Statement and Explanatory 1994 Memorandum) May 1995 Examination in Public 1. Local government reform in 1996 retained a two-tier system in most of the county area, with the exception of Blackburn and Blackpool.

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national policy guidance to contain statements of policies and brief justifications for each, supported by explanatory material. They provide a policy framework for district plans, which in turn provide guidance for the British system of development regulation, which involves the making of discretionary judgements about whether to permit development projects. Plans are typically structured around sectors or topics. This organization in part reflects how the plan-preparers see the policy issues. It also reflects the functional organization typical of central and local government in Britain, with each government function having its own policy networks (Rhodes 1990). The format and policy agendas on some of these topics are firmly structured by central government policy, notably in the areas of housing, retailing and minerals planning. So, there is little room for local manoeuvre or innovation. The resulting policies are the product of a complex interplay between the plan-writers, usually planning officers working for the local authority, key institutional networks, which cluster around different functions, and evolving government policy and legal judgments. At the rhetorical level, the 1993–5 Lancashire structure plan exercise reflected a strong attempt to integrate the key policy priorities (development land allocation, transport, environmental quality) around a central focus on environmentally sustainable economic development. Later discussion in this chapter will show that key integrative links required for sustainable futures have been omitted, or are based on fragile assumptions about powers and resources. The case This case is about the way Lancashire county council became involved in building up new alliances and new arenas for the discussion of economic development strategy and environmental sustainability. Until local government reorganization in 1974, the county council had the major regulatory responsibility for planning and development matters within its area. Until 1990, the county tended to steer an independent path with respect to the neighbouring metropolitan authorities (Wannop 1995), but its own position was affected by the assertion of autonomy by the district councils and by limitations on local authority power and finance resulting from central government policy during the 1980s. To gain financial and operational flexibility in the economic development arena, and in response to changes in national government regulations, in 1982 the county council transferred its economic development functions to a separate but closely linked semipublic agency, Lancashire Enterprises Ltd (later Lancashire Enterprise plc). This is now operating at arm’s length from the county and it specializes in investment promotion, property management, training and consultancy. The county’s autonomous attitude changed in the early 1990s. Senior Labour politicians in Lancashire and the metropolitan authorities in the northwest took on a firmly regional orientation, with EU regional funding in mind.2 A consequence of this shift has been a new emphasis on building horizontal policy networks around spatial 2. An additional factor was the possibility of a victory for Labour at national level in 1992 and the anticipation that this would lead to some form of regional decentralization.

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planning issues. Our case describes the efforts to translate the strategic ideas developed in these arenas into the formal policy tool of a structure plan. From the late 1980s, parallel and overlapping institutional arenas and policy discourses developed, focused around a regional economic and business strategy, on the one hand, and a county-based environmental action programme (Lancashire Environmental Action Programme, LEAP) on the other. Lancashire’s “technically advanced and high-profile approach has been held up as an example of best practice by many observers”, including the County Planning Officers’ Society (Masser & Pritchard 1994). The environmental work of the county has been praised as pioneering (Scudamore & Rudd 1993). In the 1990s, the county was at the forefront of the renewal of a strategic emphasis in structure planning practice in England, neglected since the early 1980s as a result of lack of support for strategic policies from central government. Institutionally, the case is innovative in the creation of new arenas for policy development and consequently the involvement of some new actors in strategymaking and plan-making. There are two new regional local authority and business discussion arenas, the North West Business Leadership Team and the North West Regional Association. These overlap with the county-promoted Environmental Forums. One factor behind these institutional arena-building activities is an effort to break the hierarchical centralism of the British state and to develop stronger horizontal networks across regional and subregional agencies and actors. Politicians, officials and business interests are actively promoting such a shift. Through these networks, new possibilities for overcoming the vertical functionalism of British public policy are being opened up. The most striking change with respect to the substance of the plan is its “policy talk”. Some concepts of the 1970s have resurfaced, such as “equity” and “need”, and the significance of public transport. These have been absorbed into a plan rhetoric, which is strongly coloured by the metaphors of two discourses, that of economic “positioning” within European space and that of environmental sustainability. However, the county still finds itself facing challenges to its policies, from both central government and the districts. Where the county seeks to preserve sites for regional business development, or to manage the demand for travel, central government and the districts complain that the county is interfering in the “detail” of district responsibilities (LCC 1994). There are several innovations on the methodological side too. Databases on environmental issues have been improved. Environmental appraisals are more sophisticated. There is a clearer understanding of key relationships, which leads to new connections being made between the various topics in the plan. Policies are expressed with more sophistication and awareness of exactly how they may be used and challenged. Consultants have been used for some areas of work, rather than internal planning staff. As regards content, however, the plan has evolved incrementally from its predecessors. Further, there is no evidence of a coherent reappraisal of plan-making methods, and early structure plan reports reflect a traditional proceduralist view of planmaking processes (LCC 1993). A key difference between the new plan and earlier versions is in the presentation of the plan. The new plan attempts to present a more coherent strategy, which is traced through into different policy areas. It is also presented in a more readable form with illustrations.

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This case illustrates a situation where innovation is only partly initiated by the planpreparing team. The team was also being influenced by changes happening around it, in the arena of public debate and in government policy. The plan-making exercise is as much about developing the implications of this dynamic flux within the planning arena as it is about a strategic approach to a spatial subregional plan-making process. The institutional relations of plan-making New arenas Formally, structure plan-making is undertaken by county council planning teams, in the context of national and regional planning policy guidance and local circumstances. Plan drafts are then issued for “public consultation”. After amendments are made, a revised draft is “deposited”. It is then possible for any party to make a formal objection to the plan. The increasing importance of the plan has encouraged the developers and other interest groups to become involved at an earlier stage in the plan-making process, leading to increased representations and longer inquiries. These objections are considered by a panel led by a government inspector in a public inquiry. The local authority considers these, makes any modifications considered appropriate, and issues a revised version. This is then approved by the local authority. Throughout, local authority decisions are made by local politicians, advised by their planning staff. This process appears to place the local authority and the planners in a very powerful position. But national government plays a strong role, commenting in detail on drafts and making objections to plans. The national government policy derives its influence from its power to override local considerations if planning decisions are challenged and appealed. The pressure from central government in recent years has been to force the system into a hierarchical form, within which local authorities are mere agents of central government policy. The key arenas of plan-making in this formal process are therefore the local planning office, the consultation and the inquiry processes. Behind this lies the informal process whereby central government officials check through the fine detail of every policy statement. In practice, plan-making is typically the outcome of different relationships clustered around issues and topics. The arenas for strategy formation and policy development may be different in each. What emerges in the formal plan-making arena are debates often already structured by powerful interest bargaining. The Lancashire structure plan exercise attempts to break with these traditions by its efforts to build up, and work with, local and regional policy alliances, and by the use of an overall strategy to link the various topics in the plan. This reflects a political concern to assert more local autonomy from central government, as well as an economic concern with new business relationships and the recognition of the need to respond to the local concerns over environmental issues. Of critical importance has been a renewed assertion of regional collaboration in strategy-making. The first step was taken by the business community. In 1989, a new forum was created, representing a consortium of 30 major private sector employers. This North West Business Leadership Team sought an alliance with the local authorities. The authorities had overcome their previous differences and had constructed a regional alliance, to enable them to compete better for European funds and in preparation for

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regional devolution.3 This led to the creation of the North West Regional Association.4 Together, the Team and the Association sponsored the preparation by consultants of a regional economic strategy, and prepared advice to central government on the content of “regional guidance” for development plan preparation. Both organizations worked to “lever in” investment to the northwest from the UK government, the European Union and private sector sources.5 The new environmental policy agenda also was accompanied by the development of informal horizontal alliances within the county, developed at county level. Eighty organizations were involved in the Lancashire Environmental Forum, set up in 1989, encompassing national and local stakeholders (local government, semi-public agencies, major utility companies, private and voluntary organizations), to build a discursive consensus on the parameters of a sustainable future. The catalyst for this initiative was concern about bathing-water quality and waste-water sea outfalls, a major political issue for a county with a tourist coastline. The consistent failure of the county’s 11 designated sea-bathing areas to comply with EU standards explains the firm stance taken by the county against the low-cost solution recommended by the water company, a 5km sea outfall pipe to disperse sewage subject only to preliminary and partial treatment. This proactive attempt to use the county’s regulatory powers highlighted two problems; first, the need for a wider political consensus on pollution standards than could be achieved through the adversarial planning permit process, and, secondly, the recognition that environmental data currently held by the clusters of public and private organizations in Lancashire should be amalgamated and disseminated. An environmental audit was set in train by the county’s Environmental Unit in 1989, collating existing data on environmental sectors (underlying environmental structure, air, water, waste, noise, energy, land and agriculture, wildlife, landscape and townscape, open space, and transport) and their interaction. All the data were placed in a computerized geographical information system and disseminated in 1991 in a 338-page document entitled Lancashire: a green audit (LCC 1991). Councillors were therefore taking a strong lead on the environmental issue, ahead of central government thinking at the time. The environmental unit within the planning department was answerable to an officers’ management group chaired by the council’s chief executive. This generated the idea for the Environmental Forum, both to aid in information-gathering and to spread community awareness of the issues, ownership of data and policy formulation. The environmental audit thus took on an educative role as well as assembling information. The groundwork for policy formulation was strengthened through the use of specialist working groups, in which the majority of the 80 organizations participated. The active stakeholders in these groups were the utility companies, representatives of transport organizations, local authorities, wildlife and landscape bodies, both national and local, and agricultural interests. 3. Many labour politicians were preparing for a Labour victory at national government level in 1992. 4. The formulation of the NWRA was also partly a response to the organization of the business community (Wannop 1995). 5. Their united vision and framework, expressed in economic, transport and environmental Action Strategies, was launched in Brussels in 1995 to an audience of EU MEPS and government officials.

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The plan-making exercise was underpinned by a rich and wide-ranging debate on environmental issues orchestrated by the county. With respect to economic issues, the county’s ideas were strongly influenced by its collaboration in regional economic strategy formation, as discussed above. The regional economic strategy reflected a complex bargaining between the interests of the various parties. The final strategy represented a wide measure of agreement across many issues. In the discussions within the North West Regional Association (NWRA), the ideas about economic strategy were then merged with those bubbling up on environmental strategy in several authorities, including Lancashire. This was articulated in the vocabulary of environmentally sustainable economic development, which had by then achieved government backing. The NWRA had working groups, which related to the regional economic strategy on both regional environmental issues and regional transportation policy. The ideas from these discussions flowed into the policies for industrial and business development in the Lancashire structure plan, and into the local authorities’ proposals to central government for adoption as regional guidance. The regional guidance document follows a similar approach. A critical issue for both economic development strategy and environmental policy was the relationship with transport. The NWRA had worked with the North West Business Leadership Team to produce, in 1993, a regional transport strategy for northwest England. The emphasis in this report was on “first-class links” for economic development purposes. This shifted policy attention from building up the links between Liverpool and Manchester to developing the region’s north-south axis, from Scotland to the South East and the Channel Tunnel (Wannop 1995). Although rail was mentioned, there was little emphasis on the need to manage the demand for travel. This important emphasis in the Lancashire structure plan arose much more strongly in the environmental discussions. Another key arena where conflict between economic and environmental objectives was particularly acute was that of the location of mineral extraction. Traditionally, policies for mineral extraction have been pursued as a largely separate exercise from other plan policies. Relations between the extraction industries and central and local government tended to be close, in a classic corporatist form (Marsden et al. 1993). Counties are still required to prepare a separate minerals local plan for the whole of the county. In Lancashire, this plan had reached the consultation stage by 1995. The most notable change in the approach to mineral issues in Lancashire is in the consultation process. The county council invited various organizations, including the local authorities, voluntary sector and mineral operators, to take part in a “briefing session” on the launch of the minerals local plan, with subsequent “focus groups” and an “interactive day”. The outcome of this exercise was reported back to participants. These (about a hundred) were selected from organized groups, not individual members of the public, and they were by no means “new actors”. However, the agenda of debate and the involvement of the key actors at the early stages of plan preparation were a step forward in the direction of more transparent consensus-building discussion. For minerals planning, this was an innovation in itself even if the nature of the debates and the extent to which the outcome of this exercise will affect the plan’s policies are not yet clear. Thus, although the making of the new Lancashire structure plan was still very much in the hands of the planning team, which orchestrated the flow of comment through the formal consultation and inquiry processes, other and informal arenas have played a

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critical role in developing the policy agendas and approach of the plan. In effect, the formal processes provided a probing test of the robustness of the strategy, with both central government and the districts often challenging the legitimacy of policies, or the right of the county to have a policy on a particular matter (LCC 1994). Development and environmental interests challenged the philosophy, its realization and its impact, on particular valued assets. The opportunity for a stronger horizontal articulation of interests at regional level was provided in part because of economic challenges and EU opportunities. Similarly, the environmental agenda was pushed along by public opinion and EU emphases. But national power remained strong. Neither economic development objectives nor the environmental agenda would have been able to develop so rapidly if national government policy were not itself shifting in similar directions. Further, it proved difficult to overcome functional divisions and link together the different elements of economic, environmental and mineral extraction and transport issues. New actors These new arenas have had an effect on the way issues are discussed, but it is not clear how far they have brought new actors into the plan-making process. Accounts of structure plan-making in England emphasize that the key actors, apart from the planning officers, are certain politicians, the major utility providers, government departments (notably the Department of Transport and, in the past, the Ministry of Agriculture, Fisheries and Food), and certain development interests, notably the housebuilding lobby and major mineral operators (Darke 1982, Healey et al. 1988). These have tended to structure policy agendas prior to public discussion. Environmental interests have then had an impact in the more public phases of the process. There were some signs that this pattern was changing by the 1990s in Lancashire. To some extent, the Lancashire exercise was “business as usual” with respect to the actors involved. The minerals operators were the dominant players in the forums set up to discuss mineral issues. The transport planners sat alongside the transport operators. The influence of large public and private companies and interests was exercised behind the scenes and before public discussion started. Yet there were significant differences. First, there was an effort to bring the key players together to develop greater coherence and to shift the debate by consensus-building among the various parties. This had hardly ever happened before in the minerals area. Further, the development of a regional strategic alliance represented a major part of the institution-building effort, which has underpinned the plan-making efforts of the various participants. Secondly, some people played a key role in promoting both the strategic philosophy and the consensusformation. These were local politicians, senior local authority officers, staff from key infrastructure providers and those with significant regional business and development interests. Thirdly, business interests have been more actively involved in strategy formation and in the construction of a regional strategic alliance. Fourthly, environmental interests have been brought in at an early stage in the development of ideas, although Lancashire’s Environmental Forum was largely separate from the development of the regional economic strategy. New players from the business sector were thus drawn into a more active role in policy formation, usually in non-public arenas. But, apart from the involvement of

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environmental groups through the environmental forums, the institutional context may best be described as old players in new arenas. One consequence of a widening of the rhetoric, without widening the range of key players involved in the consensus-building effort, was that key environmental groups who were not included, such as the CPRE (Council for the Protection of Rural England) and the RSPB (Royal Society for the Protection of Birds), felt it necessary to mount a many-pronged attack on the credibility of the strategic focus of the plan and on the robustness of the environmental policies in the plan. New ways of thinking The planning department of Lancashire County Council continued to play a key role in the structure plan-making process itself. Not only were the planners “in charge” of the formal process of structure plan production. They were also actively involved in servicing the Environmental Forum and representing their authority in the work of the NWRA (Wannop 1995). In the environmental field, although the commitment came from politicians, it was the planners who had a key role in operationalizing the ideas. This was so in the minerals area also. There were nevertheless some changes in roles. First, the new emphasis on environmental issues meant that the county planners had to develop their own understanding of these issues. Secondly, in the case of minerals, development control officers had to prepare a minerals local plan, which involved a change from regulatory control to policy formation. Thirdly, consultants were used not just to conduct studies but to help in articulating positions in the study for the regional economic strategy. Fourthly, in the environmental field, a whole range of agencies and environmental groups were used as a resource to provide information and to help structure issue agendas. To an extent, the planners took a back seat in terms of substantive issues, allowing these to emerge in discussion. This is an interesting alternative to the specialist survey or study conducted by experts. Planners were thus undertaking well established, if constantly contested, tasks in new ways. Even though the whole process of arena formation and discussion among key actors continued to reflect the practices of a regional power elite, struggling to develop a form of corporatism in which they retain key place, there were changes in style and in personnel. These suggest a slow opening out of the institutional relations of plan-making to new players, particularly on the environmental side. Policy agendas One of the most obvious changes in the new Lancashire structure plan compared to the earlier plans was in the language used to promote and justify the policies. Behind this lay a shift in the understanding of key issues, particularly the county’s economic future and its environment. Further, there was a strong emphasis on a coherent strategy over-arching the plan. Rather than merely a collection of topics, as in the past, it reflected an attempt to interlink issues and policies. The way the issues were worded provides a revealing insight into the county’s incorporation of an old discourse (managing the location of growth,

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distributing growth more equitably and improving and conserving the amenity of urban areas) into a new vocabulary (of economic positioning within global competition for inward investment while managing development “without detriment to the environment and natural resources”). A critical distinction was made between accommodating growth, which in the British context of firm landscape-conservation policies means a form of locational restraint, and managing growth, with the implication that growth must be managed and restrained within environmental limits. With respect to economic development, the new policy discourse emphasized the position of the county within Europe (Fig. 9.2). The county’s economic future was now seen to depend on how it positions itself in relation to global investment, European markets and EU subsidy opportunities. The structure plan reflected these debates. This allowed some emphasis on an east-west orientation to transport,6 complementing the north-south orientation, and to policies for strategic development locations, aimed to attract investment, encourage mixed uses and avoid “town cramming”.7 Environmental policies were intertwined with this economic strategy, setting limits to the impact of development proposals. The expressed intention was to conserve nationally unique environmental resources and achieve EU environmental standards, without damage to more locally valued environmental resources. A key focus for both economic development and environmental policies was the approach to transport. Here the ambiguities of the challenge of sustainability and growth are at their most acute, as objectors to the plan were quick to notice. On the one hand, there was an emphasis on improving public transport routes across the county, for both local and strategic accessibility, encouraging the shift of freight from road to rail. On the other, policies encouraged the upgrading of strategic motorway and other trunk routes to improve the region’s accessibility to its suppliers and markets. The ambivalence between sustainability and growth is also found in the discussion of strategic development sites. The policies emphasized that, as far as possible, locations for development must be in existing urban areas or close to existing transport corridors. The idea of strategic transport corridors was a key spatial organizing device for the plan. Within these corridors, road and rail transport was to be improved. This implied the improvement of a west-east rail link. The county was described as a “land bridge” with north-south routes connecting Scotland with the South East, the Channel Tunnel and Europe, and west-east routes connecting Ireland, through Lancashire, with the Humber ports and Europe. Finally, some areas that might be expected to be the focus of a refraining of policy to reflect new ways of thinking about the limits to economic growth were largely unaffected by the shift in policy discourse. For example, neither the opportunities for shifting the transport of aggregates from road to rail, nor the setting of environmental capacities or limits, is mentioned. Nor are demand management conceptions tracked through 6. This was also in line with longstanding policies to regenerate the older industrial towns in this area. 7. A British term referring to the increased densities in many urban areas experienced in the 1980s, with a combination of escalating land and property values and continuing landscape restraint policies.

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Figure 9.2 Lancashire structure plan: strategic positioning. consistently. People’s travel behaviour was to be managed to reduce the amount of car travel. But no constraints were proposed on the form of development to reduce the demand for aggregates. The 1993–5 Lancashire structure plan thus presents a new strategic rhetoric and argumentation. What is not so clear is how far this rhetoric tracks through into specific policies and proposals, and how these in turn may affect regulatory and investment decisions. There are clearly new policies and proposals. The new arguments could lead to new criteria for determining investment priorities and for the regulatory negotiation of

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development proposals. Most of these new ideas came from the discussion arenas that fed into the plan, changing the nuances and emphases of policies and arguments articulated in earlier plans. Perhaps the most significant evidence that the shifts will be durable was the degree of support for the changes that were received in the public consultation process, and the continuing shift in national government policy. It is as if the statutory arenas and process of structure plan preparation are being filled with a new wave of ideas billowing across political, professional and pressure group discussion arenas, in Lancashire as elsewhere in the country. Because of its institutional proactiveness, Lancashire found itself at the forefront of working this rhetoric through its practical implications. But there were still limitations in the conceptual and practical development of these ideas. These arose from the continuing separation of functional policy networks and the culture built up around the straitjacket of vertical relations between national government and local authorities. Methods The Lancashire structure plan is evidently a policy-driven plan, in the mould established in Britain in the 1980s. There is little evidence of explicit attention to methodological innovation, in sharp contrast to the plan-making exercises of the 1970s (Drake et al. 1975). Three groups of methodological innovation may be identified: new processes of consultation and discussion; new technical methods of survey and appraisal (an “audit” approach, linked to the use of GIS); and new styles of plan presentation. The first group has already been discussed. There was a slow and ad hoc invention and innovation of the kind of “group processes” for consensus-building already identified in us strategic planning processes (Innes 1992). These involved much freer forms of debate than those traditionally associated with public participation in planning, where pre-set agendas were discussed with “the public”. The Environmental Forum, the discussions on the minerals local plan, and the collaborative work on the regional economic strategy all shared elements of such processes. There are signs of such open-ended informal group discussions around strategic planning developing elsewhere in England. Methodological innovation at the technical level was linked primarily to environmental policies, the information base for the plan and the form of appraisal. Lancashire is one of an increasing number of authorities in Britain that have been refining techniques of environmental appraisal for internal auditing purposes, producing the “green audit” and an environmental appraisal of the plan’s policies. The availability of the “green audit” to the public, through a CD-ROM version of the GIS database in main libraries and secondary schools, was one of the few technical innovations linked to structure planning. The driving force behind this innovation and its policy utilization came from organizational restructuring within the planning department. An Environmental Unit of five specialists was created, a new Computer Development Group and external links to the Lancashire Environmental Forum. At the core, directing this operation, was the Officers’ Management Group, with close links to the leader of the council who chaired both the Policy and Resources Committee and the Lancashire Environmental Forum. The GIS assisted in developing the renewable energy policies in

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the plan and in the preparatory work for the minerals local plan, as well as modelling the environmental impact of wind farm proposals. An environmental appraisal of the 1986 structure plan was carried out at the beginning of the review process, to feed into the discussion of strategic issues in the new plan. This was essentially a policy impact analysis of the 165 policies on the 11 environmental components or stocks covered in the “scoping” exercise in the “green audit” database. The approach to the style and the presentation of the plan is another significant methodological innovation, emphasizing the persuasive role of the plan, as well as its role as a record of agreed policies to be fought over with developers in appeals and the courts. The strategic approach and the argumentation were critical to this persuasive role, as was the language and illustration of the plan. Yet it is not quite clear who the audience for the plan was seen to be. Implicitly, it is probably the primary audience of plan-readers, that is, the national government; the local authority districts; landowners, developers and consultants; pressure groups; and possibly EU funders. Consequences At this stage, it is difficult to say what the consequence will be of the innovations described here. If it endures, the alliance-building work could provide a resource through which to maintain and develop a horizontal regional debate on strategic policy. There are slow developments in the British state encouraging such decentralization. But in practical terms, the interest alliance has to be able to affect the investment decisions of key actors, notably with respect to transport and utilities, and to affect the regulatory decisions of district councils and national government. The power of the strategy depends on how the district councils interpret it. These may wish to articulate strategies in their own way and construct their own strategic alliances and discourses. However, the environmental rhetoric has retained its momentum at the national and regional level, and most district authorities are working on their Local Agenda 21 strategies.8 In this context, the discussion arenas described here seem to have had an enduring effect in shaping the thinking of several agencies, local authorities (councillors and officers) and pressure groups. This will probably change the demands these parties make in district development plan preparation arenas and in demands for investment. The production of the State of the Environment Report and Action Programme by Lancashire Environmental Forum has thus fulfilled both an educative and a consensus-building role. The process of data collection served to enlighten forum members, and the publicity surrounding both the Green Audit and LEAP raised environmental awareness among the general public. Similarly, the process of data collection was important for alliance building among forum members. This was the mechanism for getting hold of the necessary information and for ensuring group ownership of both the data and the policy response. Knowledge was thus agreed and “produced” by LEAP. Yet the business sector 8. Local Agenda 21 strategies are being widely undertaken in England, in response to the 1992 Rio Conference on the environment, which exhorted all local communities to undertake environmental audits and identify actions they could take to improve their local environment.

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was largely outside these environmental discussions. It remains unclear how far business interests are prepared to accept environmental constraints, and what the consequences of this would be for economic development initiatives. A further limitation on the plan’s commitment to the philosophy of environmental sustainability was that the longstanding policies on road construction and elements of an unsustainable settlement policy still pervade the new structure plan, even though the objective arising from the work on environmental appraisal was to reduce the number of policies with adverse environmental impacts from 30 per cent (in the 1986 structure plan) to 15 per cent (in the new structure plan). The dominant Labour group in the county council continued to associate road building with increased job opportunities and economic growth. Meanwhile, landowners and developers are gearing up to contest the strategy where it limits their development expectations. It therefore remains to be seen how far the new ideas are widely shared and will lead to real changes in policy agendas. The driving forces of innovation There were several driving forces behind the innovations found in this case. One obvious one was the increased European-scale competition for EU funding and for inward investment. This encouraged a more coherent strategic approach at regional level. A second was the increased competition for national resources, and the need to have a strong alliance and storyline for lobbying for national funds. A third pressure was the increased political and business appreciation of the value of the regional, transfunctional articulation of economic development policy. A fourth was the increased political influence of the national mood of environmental consciousness, particularly as manifest at the grassroots. Further pressures included shifts in national policy on environmental issues and on transport priorities that give support to directions already of interest to the county; and the emphasis at national level in the 1990s on a plan-led approach to development regulation, giving slightly more power to development plans. There was thus a complex interplay of local forces for change and broader contextual changes in the political and economic spheres at both national and EU level. It is possible to discern a slow weakening of the hold of the national government over regional and local spatial policy. Concluding comments Innovation in Lancashire structure plan-making is in many respects a reassertion of strategic direction. This has involved a rediscovery of formulating a strategy, reviving some good practices lost in the 1980s, developing a new understanding of policy interlinkages, refining and making policies more robust for use in framing regulatory decisions and building a negotiated consensus around strategic directions. The strategy is driven by two interest groupings; first, an alliance of business interests seeking to market the investment opportunities of the region and attract subsidy, combined with a dominant elected member support for job growth. “Clinging onto” this dynamic force is a growing environmental consciousness and a collection of interest

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groups arising from this. Both groupings found it beneficial in justifying their strategic visions to make horizontal links at regional and subregional level across the functional divisions and vertical organization of British public policy. The rhetoric of the plan reflected this political balance. In effect, there were two plans in one document. The first part of the plan presents a clear strategy linked by seven strands, with aims, objectives and issues. It sends a strong growth signal to developers and investors who are perceived to be nationally and internationally located. This was an innovation in itself for a British structure plan. The rhetoric of the remainder of the plan is constrained by external interests and the realities of the hierarchical British planning system. This “second” plan is a strategic land-use tool to regulate development. It responds first to what is considered to be appropriate by the national government for such a broad-brush document, setting markers for lower-level regulators. Secondly, it reflects the specific functional policy guidelines issued by the DOE. In terms of driving forces, economic concerns remain dominant. But a policy reorientation is in the making, which surfaces in some places in the new plan, but which has still to play out its full course. The force for a new direction is gaining support within the horizontal alliance-building of the Lancashire Environmental Forum and the awareness-raising of the Green Audit and LEAP. There has been some improvement in technical methods, most noticeably in the planmaking strategy. This has come about because ideas about the plan-making process have changed. The shift to a plan-led system has brought concepts of efficiency and effectiveness to the foreground. The survey—analysis—plan methodology of the 1976 structure plan has been replaced by one of monitoring—review—plan. More attention has been given to both the plan as a regulatory tool and how it will be used by the lower-tier authorities. Plan policies are beginning to specify the parameters to be taken into account when assessing a development application as well as the level of detail required from the application. This is particularly noticeable in some of the environmental policies, which will lead to more robust and carefully crafted policies. The most striking innovations are, however, not in the plan itself but in the changes in the institutional context for plan-making. Here, deliberate efforts are being made at horizontal integration among major regional interest groups. These incorporate business, public sector and, to an extent, environmental groups. These efforts illustrate active attempts to build up a regional institutional capacity for coordination and strategic direction, to challenge both the traditional centralism of the English state and the functional sectoralism of the organization of British public policy. This regional capacity-building emphasizes not merely forging new links and interlinking previously separate networks, between public and private sectors, and between different policy networks. It also involves developing new discourses with which to focus strategy development. Such conceptual development provides a further mechanism to reinforce horizontal integration, through spreading understanding and “ownership” of new directions. Together, the network-building and conceptual development serve to generate both “social and intellectual capital” to underpin the construction of horizontal alliances (Innes et al. 1994). What we have described is the early stage of a slow and difficult process in the context of governance traditions in England. The efforts could easily be derailed if the national government changes its current environmental policies, or if the slight shifts

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towards government decentralization are stalled, or if the regional economic priorities “crowd-out” all other considerations. In this case, the Lancashire structure plan could become an example of a failed rhetoric. But the power of the rhetoric, in Lancashire and elsewhere in England, nevertheless serves to frame the climate of policy ideas generally. Through its pervasive and diffuse influence, the rhetoric may yet have real policy effects. References and further reading Darke, R. 1982. The dialectics of policy-making. In Planning theory in the 1980s, P.Healey, G.McDougall, H.Thomas (eds), 194–210. Oxford: Pergamon. Drake, M., B.McLoughlin, R.Thompson, J.Thornley 1975. Aspects of structure planning. London: Centre for Environmental Studies. Healey, P., P.McNamara, M.Elson, J.Doak 1988. Land use planning and the mediation of urban change. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Innes, J. 1992. Group processes and the social construction of growth management: the cases of Florida, Vermont and New Jersey. Journal of the American Planning Association 58, 440–53. Innes, J., J. Gruber, R.Thompson, M.Neuman 1994. Co-ordinating growth and environmental management through consensus-building. Report to the California Policy Seminar (May 1994), Department of City and Regional Planning, University of California, Berkeley. Lancashire County Council 1991. A green audit. Preston: Lancashire County Council. —1994. Reactions report. Preston: Lancashire County Council. —1993. Structure plan technical report no 9: objectives and strategy. Preston: Lancashire County Council. Marsden, T., A.Flynn, P.Lowe, R.Munton 1993. Constructing the countryside. London: UCL Press. Masser, I. & A.Pritchard 1994. GIS in the State of Environment Reporting Town Planning Review 65(2), 205–213. NWBLT/NWRA 1993. Regional economic strategy for north west England. Manchester: [produced by] PIED A Consulting Group. Purdue, M. 1994. The impact of Section 54A. Journal of Planning and Environment Law, 399–409. Rhodes, R. 1990. Policy networks, Journal of Theoretical Politics 2, 293–317. Scudamore, D. & F.Rudd 1993. Reviews of the Green Audit and LEAP Town Planning Review 64(4), 461–2. Wannop, U. 1995. The regional imperative: regional planning in the UK, Europe and the United States. London: Jessica Kingsley.

CHAPTER TEN A plan with a purpose The regional plan for the province of Friesland, 19941 Barrie Needham Context Friesland is one of the twelve provinces of the Netherlands (Fig. 10.1). Its area (3800km2, about 10 per cent of the whole country) makes it an average-size province, its population (604300 in 1993) one of the smaller ones. The population density (180 per km2) is low (the average for the country as a whole is 450km2) as befits a predominantly rural area. The provincial capital, Leeuwarden, is the biggest settlement but has only 87000 inhabitants. Nearly 3 per cent of employment in the province is in agriculture (in the Netherlands, the proportion is 1.7 %), and the province attracts huge numbers of visitors each year, in particular for water sports (Friesland has 4 per cent of the Dutch population, but 8 per cent of all the overnight stays by Dutch people in their own country; it calls itself “the Dutch Lake District”).2 The economic and social issues addressed by the regional plan arise mainly out of the rural nature and peripheral location of the province, with its thinly distributed population, and out of the conflicting demands of farming, recreation and nature conservation on this rural space. The province of Friesland is a predominantly rural area and its inhabitants are widely scattered among very many villages. Farming there is subject to the same changes as elsewhere in Europe and is supporting fewer people, so the villages are losing people and the supporting services, setting up a familiar spiral of decline. The threat to village life is particularly poignant, as the sense of regional identity is very strong. Many people speak Fries, which is recognized as a 1. Acknowledgement is gratefully given to the following who have contributed to this chapter: Drs Tim Zwanikken, whose research into strategic planning brought this regional plan to my notice (that research has been published as Zwanikken et al. (1993) and as Needham et al. (1997)); Harold Pouwel, who made an additional study of the 1994 plan and its predecessors; Dr Maarten de Jong, the leader of the team that produced this plan, who has been kind enough to discuss this chapter with me; colleagues of Dr De Jong, including the member of the provincial executive responsible for spatial planning, who at Dr De Jong’s request commented on a draft of this chapter; Professor Dr Andreas Faludi, Professor Ir Arie Dekker, Drs Leo van der Meer for their helpful comments on draft versions. 2. All the above figures are from publications of the Central Office of Statistics.

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Figure 10.1 Friesland in the Netherlands context. separate language and may be used for public affairs. It is not clear where future employment is to come from to replace that lost from farming. The province is rather isolated. The province of Friesland not only has the problems of rural areas but the attractions as well. Its landscape has a characteristic charm and provides a variety of habitats for wildlife. This gives rise to environmental issues which need urgent attention. These issues arise mainly because of the conflicting demands made on the same space by agriculture, recreation and nature. The areas most intensively used by visitors are the lakes and rivers, which are also environmentally very valuable and sensitive. The present farming practices are not acutely harmful (as in some parts of the Netherlands), but the extraction of groundwater for irrigation and the lowering of the water table for easier use of machinery and so on brings ecological impoverishment in the longer term. A Dutch province is intermediary between the national and the municipal government, and it has a constitutionally guaranteed autonomy. In matters of spatial planning, policy is determined by all three levels interacting closely with each other. Nevertheless, the regional plan (streekplan) made by the province has an independent status in planning law. It is only the provincial council (Provinciale Staten) that has to adopt it legally and the plan does not have to be formally approved by national government or the relevant municipalities. National and local government have the right to make their opinions on the draft plan known, but the plan as adopted represents the policy of the province alone.

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However, a province has few funds for actually building anything. The “public spenders” are the national and municipal governments. The elected council is not the only provincial agency involved. There is a governor or chief executive officer (Commissaris der Koningin, Queen’s Commissioner) who is appointed by the Crown (i.e. the monarch and cabinet) and who chairs all council meetings. And there is a provincial executive (Gedeputeerde Staten) consisting of the Queen’s Commissioner and a few of the elected councillors (Deputies General) who become full-time paid politicians/managers for the duration of the council. The preparation of the regional plan is the responsibility of this provincial executive, and one of the Deputies General has a special responsibility for spatial planning and is charged with overseeing the plan preparation. It is only when this committee is satisfied with the plan that the plan is submitted to the Provincial Council for approval. A regional plan is regulated by the legislation (Wet op de ruimtelijke ordening, Spatial Planning Act) as follows. The province is obliged to draw up and follow a policy for the use of its space (land area). In fulfilling this, the province may, but is not obliged to, prepare a regional plan for part or all of its area. If the province chooses to take this course, the plan should present the desired future development of the area in general terms and support this with arguments. The plan should also specify its relationship to the province’s environmental policy plan and water management policy. The regional plan is indicative (i.e. not legally binding), but it commits the province itself to some extent. The plan itself must specify if aspects of it are to be elaborated further and the limits within which the province may depart from its own plan. In practice, provinces make a regional plan to fulfil one or more of the following policy functions: developmental, integration, coordination and supervision. (These functions are considered as overlapping rather than distinct). The first, the presentation of the way the province thinks that the area should develop physically, is the most familiar to planners and administrators. It gives the substantive content of the planning policy. The second function is to set a spatial framework within which the province can integrate its various functional policies that have land-use implications—housing, the environment, water management, transport and infrastructure. This is called “horizontal coordination”. The third function, coordination of the spatial planning policies of national, provincial and municipal government, is called “vertical coordination”. The fourth function, supervisory, relates to the province’s legal responsibility for approving the local land-use plan (bestemmingsplan) of the municipalities, without which such local plans have no legal force. In addition, the province can issue an order or a directive (aanwijzing) to a municipality requiring it to make or revise a bestemmingsplan. When performing these supervisory tasks, the province has to be guided by the content of its formally adopted spatial planning policy. The regional plan is the main source of that policy. The legislation regulates the procedures to be followed when making a regional plan. The draft plan must be put on public display for at least two months and certain bodies must be consulted during the plan-making. The legislation also provides for a Provincial Spatial Planning Committee (Provinciale Planologische Commissie), which includes representatives of a large number of national government ministries, municipalities and organizations (such as the farmers). The opinion of this committee about a draft regional plan must be heard. Who actually makes the plan and under what conditions is for the

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provincial executive to decide. The province can use its own planning staff, it can engage consultants, or it can use a combination. The case In 1991, a new provincial council was elected. This was the occasion for forming a new provincial executive, which issued a statement (programma-accoord) of its policy platform for the ensuing term of office. This statement included the commitment to produce a new regional plan, for the whole of the area of the province. The existing one needed to be replaced as it was perceived politically to be negative, restricting change, whereas the province wanted new development and a new image. At the same time, the province wanted to tackle some issues urgently, in particular environmental decline. Another issue that the plan had to tackle was the spate of policy documents relevant for regional planning being produced by national government, for the province of Friesland was not intending to accept them in their entirety. The Deputie General responsible for spatial planning wanted the new plan to be in place (that is, legally adopted) before the summer of 1994, well before the provincial elections of 1995. When work on the plan started, there were only two and a half years for making it and getting it through the formal procedures. It was clear that the method by which previous regional plans had been made could not be followed. The 1982 plan had taken nearly ten years to make (and had cost a huge amount). It had been revised in 1989. A second revision could not produce the radical changes that were perceived to be necessary. And even without constraints of time and money, how is it possible to make a regional plan that will initiate great changes, especially given the indicative nature of the regional plan, the intermediate nature of so many of the tasks of the provincial government, the small budget that the province had for construction and development, and the climate of policy opinion in the early 1990s whereby government should leave more room for private initiative? The plan-making was innovative in the way it tackled this, in particular, in the choice of the functions that the plan should fulfil, in the way the plan-making was organized, and in the content given to the plan. The institutional relations of plan-making The policy functions that the plan should fulfil The 1994 regional plan for Friesland was made consciously in order to fulfil certain policy functions. The functions chosen were not particular to this plan, being the four mentioned above as being commonplace to Dutch thinking about regional plans. However, the relative weights given to the four functions were different from usual, and required different planning methods. In particular, the province wanted to combine two apparently inconsistent functions, laying more emphasis on the developmental function (presenting a picture of how the province should develop), and putting less emphasis on

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the supervisory function (obliging the municipalities to follow policies in order to realize that picture). The first function, presenting the desired physical development, is presented in 106 of the 157 pages of the plan with, in addition, two large maps. The second function, integration, receives much less attention, being worked out in a few pages at the back of the plan document. This is not an afterthought, but quite deliberate. It had been common practice in the Netherlands to begin the making of a regional plan by collecting all the “spatially relevant” policies of the province, presenting them at the beginning of the report and letting these determine the constraints within which the plan must fit. This method is known as “scrapbook planning”. The planners in this case wanted to avoid that. They wanted to give themselves more room to design policies, which could break with their past policies. The same applies to the way this regional plan tackled the third function: coordination. It was decided not to include a chapter in which all the various spatially relevant policies of, in particular, the national government are presented at length. Instead, the policies of municipalities, national government, Brussels, and even a “new Hanseatic region”, are summarized in a few pages at the end of the report and selectively incorporated into the plan. The province knew that it could not ignore the policies of national government, but it did not want to be dominated by them. The fourth function, supervision, is obligatory, but the province wanted to allow the municipalities within its boundaries considerable freedom to develop their own spatial planning policy. So, the supervision of the municipalities on the basis of this regional plan was to be light. But how light? The municipalities wanted to know where they stood. Others too needed this type of clarity. Is the province to be bound to its own regional plan? What can the citizen deduce from the statements in the plan? In order to specify the legal limits allowed by the regional plan, all its policy statements were classified into three types, essential, guiding and indicative. This classification of policy statements related not only to the substantive content of the regional plan but also to the procedural significance of the plan. This issue is not specific to the regional plan for Friesland. Other regional plans too have had to address it. The way they have done this is similar to the way chosen by Friesland. What makes the 1994 regional plan for Friesland interesting in this respect is the wish to stimulate the municipalities rather than restrict them. This motive is also reflected in the way the province tries to specify the legal limits within which its regional plan would achieve such stimulation. (It is noteworthy that not all municipalities were happy with the amount of freedom they were thus accorded. They wanted the old certainties of a clear-cut policy framework.) The search for consensus and understanding A regional plan in the Netherlands can be effective only to the extent that its content enjoys a consensus of public opinion. The plan is not legally binding and the province has little money for implementing it directly. So, those who are in a position to act in accordance with, or contrary to, the regional plan (and these are, most importantly, the municipalities and the public and semi-public organizations, representing policy fields such as agriculture, water management and housing) must be won over to following the plan. The plan must attract a broad basis of support (draagvlak).

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The way the plan-making was organized in order to achieve this was very carefully thought out and was strongly influenced by the team leader, Maarten de Jong. In 1986, he had defended his doctoral thesis on the creation of ideas and consensus in spatial planning (de Jong 1986). It was a study of the making of the 1982 regional plan for Friesland and it was written while he was the deputy leader of the team that made that plan. When that regional plan needed updating, he was asked to lead the planning team. The revised plan was formally approved in 1989. In 1991, Dr de Jong was asked to lead the planning team again. It was in the discussions between him (with the insights he had gained from working on the two previous regional plans and his PhD research) and the Deputy General (who wanted a new type of plan to be produced quickly) that the type of regional plan and the way of preparing it were chosen.3 The organization of the plan-making may be described in terms of the search for consensus and understanding (the approach used by De Jong in his PhD thesis). The study of the 1982 regional plan used the two types of consensus distinguished by Habermas (1982), namely compromise and shared understanding. Compromise is the sort of consensus that results from “strategic actions” when people negotiate on rational grounds to try to reach a decision that satisfies most of them. A different sort of action is “communicative”, when people enter into dialogue, being prepared to relinquish their original ideas and replace them with shared understanding. Negotiation accepts the existence of inequalities in power, dialogue tries to remove them. The 1982 plan had been drawn up using a method that tried to create shared understanding rather than to find compromise. However, De Jong had concluded that, in spite of no less than four rounds of public participation, the political support that it finally gained was more in the nature of compromise than shared understanding. The differences in opinion detected in the first round were systematically repeated in the subsequent rounds. This leads to a very practical question: If the attempt to create shared understanding did not succeed after ten years and 8 to 10 million Dutch guilders, but nevertheless workable compromises were found, would it not be possible to find workable compromises more quickly and cheaply? Is it in fact compromises that are needed? The attempt to create shared understanding can very easily lead to conservative policies, the lowest common denominator, to choosing the “status quo ante”. Compromises also can get in the way of the fundamental changes that the substantive issues might demand. This raises the following methodological questions. What kind of consensus or understanding is needed under those circumstances? What kind of plan-making can quickly (and preferably cheaply) produce radical policies that can win that understanding? The understanding that the province sought with this regional plan was recognition by other actors of the legitimacy of the policies being pursued. This did not necessarily mean agreement with the policies. Rather, it meant a full understanding of what the policies were and of why they had been chosen, coupled with an acceptance of the province’s right to pursue them. The method used to make the 1994 regional plan was chosen so as to achieve that sort of understanding. 3. De Jong consciously chose the position of a member of the “elite of government officials” (functionarissenelite) with a reference to Thoenes (1971).

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How the plan was made: internal organization Part of the plan-making method has been described already, namely the relative weights given to the four policy functions of the regional plan (development, integration, coordination, supervision). Other parts of the method lie in the choice of internal organization. The provincial executive of the province (the Queen’s Commissioner and seven Deputies General) set up a steering group, which was given the mandate to prepare the regional plan. This steering group set up a small core team to do the professional work. This core team could call upon the services of a support group consisting of officers from relevant departments of the province. These officers could provide information and comment. After setting up this organization, the provincial executive (which was formally responsible for preparing the plan) had no direct involvement until asked to approve the draft plan before submitting it to the provincial council. (However, half of its members were on the steering group). Neither did the provincial council have any direct involvement until presented with the draft plan. Again, however, there had been indirect involvement through the Committee for Spatial Planning (Statencommissie voor de Ruimtelijke Ordening) of that council, and it was that committee which gave approval to putting the draft plan out to consultation. It will be seen that a working method was chosen which gave the plan-making team connections with only a few of the elected representatives. This way of organizing the plan-making was not without risks. The plan had to be adopted by the full provincial council. That political acceptance was in fact quickly given. Of the nine parties present in the council, six represented by fortynine councillors voted for the plan, only six councillors from three minority parties voted against it. The sequence of events can be summarized as follows: • October 1991 Plan-making begins with the steering group, in consultation with the support group, drawing up a work programme. • April 1993 Provincial executive, after consultation with the Committee for Spatial Planning, approves the draft plan as a concept. • 1 May 1993 Provincial executive puts the draft plan on public display. • At the same time A round of consultations begins with local organizations, municipalities, adjacent provinces, etc. • 30 September 1993 End of period during which objections can formally be made. • 4 January 1994 Provincial executive publishes summary of reactions to the draft plan and its own proposals for modifying the plan accordingly. • 10 February 1994 Public meeting organized by Committee for Spatial Planning. • Committee for Spatial Planning prepares advice for provincial council • 30 March 1994 Provincial council adopts the plan formally. How the plan was made: external contacts The way in which others (municipalities, representatives of social groups, etc.) were involved in plan-making was different as well. These actors were more or less the same for the 1994 plan as for the 1982 plan. Moreover, the legal obligation on the province to consult with these actors was more or less the same in 1994 as in 1982. However, the

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making of the 1982 plan went much further than the legal obligation. It included an orientation phase, during which three reports were produced (on housing, employment, recreation) and put out to public participation and consultation. This took more than four years. This was followed by an options phase, involving a report on alternatives, which was produced and put out to public participation and consultation. This took more than two years. This led on to a discussion phase. At this time, a preliminary plan (voorontwerp) was produced from the previous rounds and put out to public participation and consultation. This took nearly four years. Finally, there was an adoption phase. At this time, a draft plan was produced as the basis for the formal objections procedure, after which the draft plan and any proposed modifications were presented to the provincial council with the formal proposal that they be adopted. For the 1994 plan, the involvement was kept to the legal minimum, namely the fourth of the phases above. A draft plan was produced and put on display so that people and organizations could register their objections. This phase is compulsory and must last at least two months. Partly to compensate for the absence of preparatory rounds, five months were allowed instead of two. This was the only opportunity for public discourse about the plan while it was being made. Did this plan-making method produce less response and less support for the plan than had been produced by the method followed for the 1982 plan? Differences in the volume of the response can be measured by reactions submitted to the draft plan in both cases. To the 1982 plan there were 110 reactions from organizations, to the 1994 plan 88, to the 1982 plan there were 61 reactions from individuals (apart from 3600 on one particularly contentious issue), to the 1994 plan 32. To the 1982 plan, there were 39 reactions from other public bodies, to the 1994 plan 54 (of which 31 were municipalities). A report (Antwoordnota, Streekplan Friesland 1994) was published summarizing the reactions to the draft plan, the responses of the provincial executive (responsible for preparing the plan) to these points and, where considered appropriate, proposals by that executive to modify the draft plan. The draft plan and the proposals to modify it were submitted by the provincial executive to the provincial council for approval. Debate by the provincial council (on 30 March 1994) led to a few minor amendments being passed, after which the plan was approved. The number of councillors voting against it (six) was only two more than voted against the 1982 plan. Not only was the volume of response similar in both cases, but, according to the team leader, so was the amount of support for the content of the policies. In other words, although the external actors were very much less involved in the making of that plan in 1994 as compared with 1982, the amount of support was similar in both cases. The plan had succeeded in relating to the concerns of the actors in such a way that they were (largely) convinced by it. One exception was the national government. The province wanted to develop and present its own policy for spatial development in its area, rather than to allow the policy to be shaped by the constraints of national planning policy. The result was that the national government was not happy with certain aspects of the plan as adopted. National government does not have to approve the regional plan, but it does have to be sent a copy of it, after which it can make its opinion known. The national government asked the National Spatial Planning Committee (Rijksplanologische Commissie) to advise it. This committee raised several points. These

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formed the basis for a meeting between the province and two ministers (for spatial planning and for agriculture). There were two main issues. In the past few years, national policy has strongly emphasized the wish to reduce mobility and to concentrate development in city regions. The province of Friesland was of the opinion that that national policy was not appropriate to the situation in Friesland. With respect to other aspects of national policy (such as for rural areas, and for the main ecological structure), it was unclear how they should be applied to Friesland. So, this regional plan gave the province’s own interpretation of those national policies. On the first issue, it was decided that the regional plan could stand, but that developments on the ground should be followed closely. The second issue concerned the use to be made of instruments for rural planning available to national government. It was decided that the province should work out its proposals further, after which another meeting with the minister would be held. It is clear that the 1994 regional plan was made very differently from its 1982 predecessor. The following figures illustrate this. The 1994 plan took two and a half years to make, the 1982 plan ten years. The 1994 plan cost 2 million Dutch guilders, the 1982 plan between 8 and 10 million. The 1994 plan document is 157 pages long and weighs 750 grammes; the 1982 document is 610 pages long and weighs 3200 grammes. The policy agenda The content The substantive policy issues were more or less the same for this 1994 plan as for the 1982 plan, namely: • How can the economy of the province be stimulated? • How should urban activities be geographically distributed, given the decline of village life and the small size of the towns? • How can the conflicts between agriculture and nature be tackled? The main difference between the two plans is in the seriousness of the issues. The need to find solutions, especially to the environmental problems, had become urgent. It was this increasing urgency that led the planning team to want to propose more radical changes than in the previous regional plans. It has been said above that a Dutch regional plan has four overlapping functions. The first is to present the spatial disposition of activities and development that the province wishes to see. The other three are integrating sectoral policies, coordinating the policies of the levels of government, and giving a basis for supervising the spatial planning policies of the municipalities. The first function—presenting the desired spatial disposition—is the basis for the other three. The skill of this plan-making approach lies in designing the “substantive content” of the plan in such a way that it presents the desired development, which also integrates functional policies and coordinates between governmental levels. The 1994 regional plan for Friesland does this in the following way. A key point in the plan was the sharp distinction made between policy for rural areas and policy for urban areas. This was significant, for it flowed out of the decision to concentrate housebuilding

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and employment areas in existing towns rather than to spread them over the villages as a way of reviving them (or prolonging their life). The rural areas were divided into two sorts: dynamic and stable (Fig. 10.2). In the dynamic areas, agriculture could grow and develop and new forms of farming could be introduced. In these areas, intensive recreation (such as bungalow parks and sailing camps) could also be allowed to expand. In the stable areas, the existing production structure of agriculture could be retained but not changed. The stable areas include not only agricultural land but also the Friesian lakes, forests and woodlands, and the whole of the Wadden Sea. Only extensive recreation would be allowed there. In particular, the “main ecological structure” was

Figure 10.2 Friesland: strategic development plan. included within the areas classified as stable. North of a line running southwest to northeast, agriculture could develop and intensify. South of that line and in the Wadden Islands, much more of the area would be subject to maintenance of the status quo for ecological and landscape reasons. That was the policy in the draft plan. It drew a lot of criticism in the consultation period, especially from agricultural groups. The policy was modified accordingly, but more in the nuances than in substance. North of the divide, development would be stimulated; south of the divide there would be a “reticent policy” towards setting up new farms for dairy produce and for intensive cattle-rearing.

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Policy for the urban areas distinguished three types of settlement (see Fig. 10.2). The largest were called “urban development zones”, and five were designated. Of these, Leeuwarden has the national status of “urban node” (stedelijk knooppunt). Then there were 17 “regional centres” (16 proposed in the draft plan, one more added by the provincial council). Finally, there were the villages, very many of them. The crucial policy choice was between concentration and dispersal. The choice had to be made, according to the plan, taking account of the need to attract and retain employment. Employment nowadays requires conditions that could be met only in urban centres. So, the choice was made to provide for employment primarily in the urban development zones. The location of new housing should be determined by the location of new employment, according to the plan, which argues (somewhat ingenuously) that housing locates near to work. So, the urban development zones (which included a wide area around the towns themselves) had to be able to offer a wide variety of housing. Not surprisingly, this part of the policy in the draft plan generated much reaction. It was, in particular, the vagueness of the policy statements that caused dissatisfaction. The provincial executive, in its proposals to modify the draft plan in response to these reactions, conceded a little ground on this point, but it still did not want to regulate too much.4 Transport also was treated under the policy for urban areas. It was hoped that the tension created by the choice between concentration and dispersal could be eased by good transport connections. If people chose to live far from their work, they must travel long distances regularly. It is national policy to reduce the need for mobility. But if the province followed that policy too closely, then it would be condemning many of the villages to die. Their continued existence is dependent on people being able to live there with easy access to employment and services. The possibility of providing for such journeys by public transport is described by the plan, realistically, as “limited”. So, some roads must be improved. The national government was not happy with this part of the policy. It wanted more concentration in towns and less mobility. The consequences of that for the villages were obvious to the villagers and their political representatives and, therefore, to the planners. The latter were “damned if they did and damned if they didn’t”! The presentation The language and terms used to present that policy were carefully crafted. The plan concepts (the images used to describe the components of the spatial structure) are mostly taken from the repertoire usual for plan documents in the Netherlands. Examples include “development zones”, “development centres”, “rural cores” (which are villages!). The dichotomy “dynamic/stable”, as applied to rural areas, is fairly new in the Netherlands, 4. Incidentally, this modification and the modification mentioned earlier to policy for agriculture were two of the three most significant proposals from the provincial executive for changing the draft plan before submitting it for adoption. The third proposal was, again, in part a response to the request for more quantitative statements: it concerned the targets for expanding the extent of nature conservation areas.

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which is perhaps the reason why it was greeted sceptically. Moreover, there was little experience with applying this policy and hence with its effects “on the ground”. Behind the other plan concepts, there was a tried and tested substantive “policy theory”. Using familiar plan concepts can help to put spatial policy across. Using a certain style of language can help to get it accepted. Two terms that are used repeatedly throughout this plan document are “classification” (rangschikking) and “mutual adjustment” (afstemming). “Our contribution to spatial planning lies primarily in the classification and mutual adjustment of (spatially relevant) functions” (Friesland Province 1994:21). It sounds very useful, very sensible and very neutral, like Adam giving “names to all the cattle, and to the fowl of the air, and to every beast of the field”. We know, however, where that led to: “and whatsoever Adam called every living creature, that was the name thereof”. The tone of the whole report is equally beguiling. (“It reads like a governmental novel”, said one municipal politician!) The reader is treated to a short introduction to what planning is all about and is thereafter led gently by the hand into the conceptual world created by the planners. The policy is presented rather than argued and justified. Indeed, the decision not to give the supporting arguments is made explicitly. The result is a feeling of inevitability. In reality, of course, the policy is the result of very hard reasoning, and realizing the policy will have very hard consequences. But the iron fist is clothed in a velvet glove. And the hardness of the iron cannot even be guessed at, because the policies are not expressed quantitatively. Methods It is quite clear that the 1994 regional plan for Friesland has been produced by planners (in close dialogue with a few political managers) who had thought very carefully about the functions that the plan should fulfil and how the plan should be prepared so as to achieve them. Aspects of the plan-making method have been described already. They will now be investigated methodologically. The planning style that was chosen can be understood in terms of the dichotomy “visionary model/consultative model” (see Needham et al. 1997). It was decided not to make this plan by first consulting all and sundry and then composing a plan, which, because all had contributed to it, would be politically acceptable. (This was the method followed for the 1982 regional plan.) Instead, the plan was made behind closed doors (“in a black box”, was how De Jong put it), with the intention that the vision of the future of Friesland that it presented be so attractive that everyone would accept it. To make that work, not only must the plan be inherently attractive, but it must be “packaged” attractively. The 1994 regional plan for Friesland is. Consultants were engaged for the design and layout, and for the maps and the sketches. The choice of the “visionary model” can have consequences for the part played by research in the plan-making. A “visionary model” can, of course, be supported by a very thorough programme of research, but in this case it was not. The plan was to win support by the attractiveness of the vision it put forward, not by showing how solid are the foundations on which that vision is based.

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The combination of a visionary model and only limited research results in a planmaking method that is fairly cheap and quick. It can, therefore, be repeated quite frequently. That opens the prospect of regional plans being replaced every few years, which could have undesirable consequences for the continuity of planning policy. This was, however, not the intention here. Indeed, the reverse is the case. The aim was that the regional plan should not need revising for ten years. That aim influenced the plan-making method. If the plan had tried to regulate too much and in too much detail, then it would become quickly out of date. It is something of a paradox that a spatial plan that is made quickly, because it restricts itself to the main issues, remains politically relevant longer than a plan that takes longer to produce because it goes into more detail. There is another aspect to the amount of detail in the plan. The makers of the 1994 regional plan sought to achieve two seemingly contradictory goals. They aimed to see its vision of the future realized and wanted to constrain and supervise the municipalities less. We have seen how the plan tried to reconcile these two. It tried to pipe such a beguiling tune that people would gather behind the Pied Piper and follow him gladly. Then, the amount of detail you present has to be very carefully gauged. Much detail, and the people you want to convince can find too much to object to. Moreover, they do not feel that they are being invited to cooperate in realizing the plan. If there is too little detail, people become suspicious, asking: Where is the Pied Piper leading us to? An important tactic in this sort of plan-making is the indicating of issues that will be worked out later (uitwerking). This 1994 plan for Friesland declares “for further elaboration” certain agricultural areas where environmental and recreational interests could, perhaps, be developed further (thereby restricting agriculture) (see Fig. 10.2). Some of the issues thus indicated were beyond the competence of the plan-makers at that moment. The issues were being considered under other plan procedures (e.g. under environmental legislation) and had not been resolved. However, there were other issues that are so tricky that, if a resolution had been sought before publishing the plan, it would have taken much longer and the interested parties could have felt excluded. If, however, too many issues are treated in this way, then the plan becomes bland and implausible. The plan-making method chosen also has consequences for the skills required of planners. One of the main roles played by planners under the “consultative model” was that of community worker and group therapist. They had to go to endless meetings in church halls and club houses to talk with people about what they wanted to see happen and to draw out from those people “the sense of the meeting”. The plan was then composed from the components thus gathered together. It could easily be more a package of compromises than a coherent plan. In making this 1994 plan, the planners had to create their own vision of how their area should develop, while knowing that this vision would have to find support from people with whom they had not spoken. This requires not only skills in plan design but a very sound knowledge of local and regional issues and feelings. Another change required of planners is in the way they use and collect knowledge. In the two previous regional plans, much time and money had been spent in carrying out background research. In the case of the 1994 plan, there was little time for carry ing out research. However, the planners had built up a store of knowledge from their long experience in the province. They were required to martial their existing knowledge directly to make a spatial plan.

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In any plan-making exercise there are particularities. In this case, the fact that the team leader had twice previously gone through the procedures of consulting the public and of carrying out and commissioning research meant that it was felt to be safe to omit those two steps this time. The terms under which the plan was made (limited time and money) precluded those steps. But that might have been irresponsible if that background knowledge had been absent. Consequences For plan-making methods The 1994 regional plan for Friesland is a sophisticated plan resulting from a sophisticated plan-making exercise, whereby both the plan-making method and the content of the plan were chosen to fit the policy context. The policy context can be described as follows. The status of the plan being produced is largely indicative (i.e. it is not legally binding). Moreover, the province has few resources to realize its own plan directly, so the plan will be realized only if many others act in conformity with it. Some of those “others” are the municipalities. The province has the duty to supervise their planning policy, but does not want to do this closely. There is a fairly strong community of interests in the province, but, nevertheless, experience had shown that even very extensive public consultation lasting many years had not produced “shared understanding” on the policy issues and how they should be tackled. The provincial council and the provincial executive are dominated by two parties. The political composition is fairly stable, giving political continuity. The politicians required the plan to be produced quickly and (fairly) cheaply. Nevertheless, certain problems were perceived as needing tackling urgently. The politicians gave this task to plan-makers who had a deep knowledge of the province. A plan-making method was chosen with the following properties. There was no attempt to achieve shared understanding, nor compromise, rather a recognition and acceptance of the position being taken by the province. That was sought not by consultation but by a plan that was so attractive that public opinion would be mobilized to range up behind it. Little research was carried out, the plan-makers relying largely on their own “store of knowledge”, built up over many years working in the province. The plan was to be made by a few people working closely together for a (relatively) short period. This team and a small steering group were set up by the politicians, which then imposed few directives and little supervision. The team took the existing policies of the province and national government as a loose framework, not as determinants of the plan. A plan was produced with the following properties. It set out the policies in an attractive and persuasive way, making little attempt to present the foundations on which those policies were based. It strictly regulated only those points considered to be essential, leaving other points to be worked out by others (in particular the municipalities), and some of the tricky issues it postponed, to be “elaborated” later.

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For institutional relations If other provinces follow this example (and it is not an isolated one) then this signifies an important break in institutional relations in the Netherlands. Spatial policy in this country is characterized by the “co-words” (cooperation, coordination, consultation, consensus, compromise) so deeply embedded in the political culture of the Netherlands with its “politics of accommodation” (Lijphart 1986). In this culture, every policy issue is discussed in public, in print, and in extenso. Yet here we have a regional plan that was produced behind closed doors in the indecently short time of two years,5 and with the expectation that people would not only accept it, more or less unchanged, but would allow themselves to be convinced by it. Moreover, the plan really was accepted, more or less unchanged. All the indications in 1995 were that the acceptance was not just from the provincial council (voting in large majority) but also from those (like the municipalities) without whose cooperation the plan would be a dead letter. It is an intriguing possibility (which would have important consequences for other plan-making exercises) that the “politics of accommodation” followed for so many years in the Netherlands has resulted in such a level of consensus about spatial planning issues that it is easier to achieve support for a spatial plan than was suspected in the 1970s and 1980s. In other words, it may be that there has been a build-up of a body of knowledge and way of looking at planning issues that can be used as intellectual and social “capital”, the employment of which allows the quick and cheap production of plans that the public support. (This relates closely to the argument in Faludi & Van der Valk (1994) about the strength, continuity and significance of planning doctrine in the Netherlands.) The driving forces of innovation The main factors behind this particular innovation have been stated already and need only be summarized here. First, there are the changes in the external context, which the planners and politicians saw as problems to be solved. In this case, agriculture was declining, recreational pressure was growing, and the local environment was under threat. Secondly, there were changes in the way that planners and politicians wanted to respond. They wanted to produce a regional plan (relatively) quickly and cheaply. They wanted the policies in the plan to be able to break with past policies and to bring about changes quickly, and they wanted to learn from the experience of the plan-making exercises of 1982 and 1989. These factors were causing others in the Netherlands to review or change their planmaking approach. Friesland was not the only governmental body to have chosen the “visionary model” for its plan instead of the “consultative model” in the early 1990s. Perhaps most significantly, the National Spatial Planning Agency adopted this approach for its Fourth National Report, published in 1988. The research report by Zwanikken et 5. It must be added that not every country would regard two years to make a regional plan as a short time, nor five months for the public display and consultation.

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al. (1993) found several other examples of recently produced strategic plans which had chosen this plan-making approach.6 This shift can be explained, in any case tentatively, as a change in political and professional ideas in response to social changes. These include the increasing pace of social, economic and environmental change and the need for plan-making that can respond quickly (although, it is hoped, not with plans that are of transient relevance); a disillusionment with the far-reaching ideals of democratization and emancipation in the 1970s, which resulted in very sluggish decision-making and more conservatism (pressure-group politics and the rise of countervailing powers) than radicalism; a less central place in society for the public sector (“the retreat of government”) and certainly less money for the public sector; and, partly as a consequence of the latter, the realization that, in order to get things done, it is necessary to win support and generate enthusiasm. Coercion is less effective and subsidies have become scarce. The shift can also be explained, perhaps, by planners having learned from experience. In this case, it was the rather sour experience of spending years trying to create “shared understanding” but succeeding only in reaching compromises; the experience (also rather sour) of having carried out vast amounts of research, much of which proved to be of limited relevance; and the pleasurable experience of discovering that, by good use of one’s store of knowledge, a plan can be produced that is politically and socially accepted. This could be described as improving one’s professional skills and rediscovering one’s professional confidence. References and further reading Publications of the Province of Friesland: Ontwerp Streekplan Friesland 1994 (draft regional plan) Antwoordnota, Streekplan Friesland 1994 (containing the reactions to the draft regional plan) Streekplan Friesland 1994 (the regional plan as finally adopted) various notes written for meetings of the provincial council in connection with this regional plan Cammen, H. van der 1991, De stad, het land, en de vierde nota extra. In Stedebouw en Volkshuisvesting 72(1), 4–9. Faludi, A. & A.van der Valk 1994. Rule and order: Dutch planning doctrine in the twentieth century. Dordrecht: Kluwer. Habermas J. 1982. Theorie des kommunikativen Handels. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. de Jong, M. 1986. Idee- en consensusvorming in de ruimtelijke ordening [a study of the 1982 regional plan for Friesland]. PhD thesis, Department of Agricultural Sciences, University of Wageningen. Lijphart, A. 1986. The politics of accommodation. Berkeley: University of California Press Needham B., A.Faludi, T.Zwanikken(1997). Strategies for improving the performance of planning: some empirical research. Environment and Planning C. Thoenes, P. 1971. De elite in de verzorgingsstaat. Leiden: Stenfert Kroese. 6. One of those who first advocated this style of planning (Van der Cammen 1991) has recently said that it has not achieved one of its aims, namely an increase in private initiatives to invest in line with the plan.

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Zwanikken T.H.C., B.Needham, A.Faludi 1993. Doorwerkingstategieën bij streek- en structuurplannen. Rapport 8, Vakgroep Planologie, Katholieke Universiteit Nijmegen.

CHAPTER 11 Working in a democratic culture Structure planning in Marks Kommun1 Abdul Khakee Context Territorial context Marks Kommun is one of Sweden’s 286 municipalities, which include on the one hand large cities such as Stockholm, with a population of 684576, and, on the other, small rural communities such as Bjurholm with a population of 2901. The average population is about 30000. With a population of 33402 and an area of 939km2, Marks Kommun represents an average municipality. It is situated to the southeast of Göteborg, the second largest city in Sweden (433 811 inhabitants) and southwest of the city of Borås (102840 inhabitants). Within a commuting time of an hour from Marks Kommun, there are about 1.5 million people. The Göteborg-Landvetter International Airport is situated adjacent to the municipality’s north-west boundary. Despite the municipality’s proximity to the two major communication thoroughfares (the RV40 highway and the railway linking Göteborg and Borås), urban centres have developed around the Borås-Varberg axis to the southwest (Fig. 11.1). There is a heavy pressure for settlement in the areas adjacent to these two cities. The location of the international airport near to the municipality represents considerable restrictions on development. 1. The paper is an outcome of discussions with politicians and local government officials in Marks Kommun. They are too numerous to name individually, but thanks are extended to them all. However, two persons deserve special mention: Viveka Ramstedt, the planning consultant who provided written comments on many issues discussed in this paper, and Ingmarie Augustsson, the planning coordinator, who organized my programme in Marks Kommun and provided me with all the documents I needed for this study. I would also like to thank Angela Hull, who read and commented on the general structure as well as on many small editorial matters. Without generous financial support from the Swedish Council for Building Research, this research would have never been carried out.

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Figure 11.1 Marks Kommun in the Swedish context. Economic and social context Marks Kommun, like most other municipalities in Sweden, has experienced a significant structural transformation between 1975 and 1990. Employment in agriculture and forestry has diminished and so has industrial employment, especially in the textile industries. Employment in public and private services has increased. The number of employees in the public sector has doubled during this period. Economic stagnation and slow growth in the public sector has led to a growing interest in development strategies through local initiatives. The municipal government has increasingly encouraged the growth of small and medium-size enterprises. This is not an easy task, since many other

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municipalities are in a similar situation. In the case of Marks Kommun, proximity to Göteborg, which is the centre of service industry in western Sweden, also explains the slow growth of private services in the locality. It explains the rapid increase in commuting to Göteborg. In 1990, a quarter of the economically active worked outside Marks Kommun. This development gave rise to a major conflict in the structure planning process, namely, whether to concentrate urban growth in the existing larger urban centres. This conflict divided people into two camps: those who advocated a “more balanced development” (i.e. concentration) in the whole municipality in order to avoid future environmental problems, and those who advocated as few restrictions as possible (which would mean dispersed development). The population of Marks Kommun has increased on average by 210 persons per year since the mid-1960s. The major demographic characteristics are the decline in the number of young people and an increase in the number of old age pensioners. Since rents are subsidized, housing is relatively cheap. This has resulted in the absence of mobility in the housing market and very high consumption of housing space per person. An important characteristic of social life is the many associations and clubs, which play an active role in the political and social life of the municipality. Environmental issues There are 32 natural or historical conservation areas within Marks Kommun, of which 10 are classified as national reserves and 22 as valuable reserves, according to the conservation programme prepared by the local government office. Their preservation comes in conflict with agriculture, forestry, recreation, rural settlement and urban development. Agriculture and forestry are important economic activities. They employ 6.5 per cent of the working population, as opposed to only 3.6 per cent for the whole country. The agrarian party, the Centre Party, has strong electoral support (20.5% compared to 6.5% for the whole country). The municipal authority has, therefore, been less inclined to put pressure on the farmers to decrease the use of fertilizers, one of the major sources of water pollution. There is a strong pressure to preserve the decentralized physical structure of the municipality. “Living Countryside” (“levande landsbygd”) is a nationwide movement. This raises long-term problems with regard to the reduction of private transportation and the efficient development of physical infrastructure. Marks Kommun is also exposed to much air pollution from external sources (the UK, mainland Europe and the Göteborg region). Since it is an area with high precipitation and high potential for acidification, the pollution of air and land is quite serious. The water resources have poor nutritional value and are exposed to excessive fertilizer pollution from agriculture as well as acid rainfall. Solutions to some of the most serious pollution problems require regional or transnational cooperation. Political-institutional context The local government has a strong constitutional position. It has the right to levy income tax, and the local public sector disburses a larger share of the national income than the state sector. Local governments have a central policy-making or executive board

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(“kommunstyrelsen”) made up of representatives of all parties represented in the municipal council. This ensures continuity and stability in policy-making. This board is assisted by several boards (with the same system of representation as the central board), which in turn are assisted by local government departments. Each department has a budget of its own, in order to carry out development and to control the way in which others carry out development (Reade 1989). Urban planning has been carried out under two sets of premises. On the one hand, municipalities have enjoyed a planning monopoly, which has enabled them to control the use of all private land within their boundaries. On the other hand, the central government has exercised control over urban development through national standards for building and national regulations for the provision of various services. More recently, the municipal monopoly on planning has been challenged by private initiatives in housing, infrastructure and the provision of services. At the same time, central regulation has been reduced (Westman 1991). The 1987 Planning and Building Act and the Natural Resources Act enlarged localgovernment responsibility beyond its traditional control of urban growth and renewal to include nature conservancy and environmental planning (SFS 1987a). This legislation requires each municipality to draw up a structure plan, paying special attention to the national guidelines for the conservation of natural resources (Ödmann 1992). This plan is not made in order to be translated directly into development. The new legislation waives the previous requirement of the state approval of structure plans. It emphasizes the local character of the plan. Municipalities are free to develop the plan as a document containing strategic guidelines for urban construction and environmental preservation. Its implementation is brought to the fore when the guidelines are used to develop mandatory detailed plans (detaljplaner). Moreover, the earlier rule of general prohibition for building in the planned area has been replaced by a new one, whereby the appropriateness of every building is judged on its own merits. This simplifies the process of granting building permissions (SFS 1987b). Key agencies The municipal executive board has the political responsibility for preparing all plans. It usually appoints a special committee from its own members for this purpose. It is assisted by several subject boards. Marks Kornmun has seven boards besides the executive board. Depending on the subject of the plan, the central board works closely with the appropriate subject board. For example, the work of preparing the structure plan was carried out together with the urban development board. In the preparation of overall plans such as the structure plan, all boards are consulted. However, the role of different boards and departments in structure planning depends on key people. More generally there is a tension between the four spheres of municipal planning: physical infrastructure, social welfare, education, and environmental protection. The tension was between, so to say, “hard” and “soft” boards and departments. In Marks Kommun, the Department of Health and Environment Protection was unusually alert and far-sighted. It succeeded in disseminating most of its ideas among politicians and other departments. This is not always the case in other municipalities.

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The case This chapter examines structure planning as carried out by Marks Kommun. The structure planning process has taken place at a time when the Thatcher-inspired marketled approach to public management received increasing support from the local authorities. Attention has shifted from devising new public planning ideas to creating market-like arrangements in municipal administration and service distribution (Montin 1993). Countering the neoliberal forces is the environmental imperative, which still has succeeded in retaining the support of municipal planners and policy-makers. A central issue, in this context, is the pressure for innovations, including the refinement of conflict resolution techniques, political solutions and new ways of acting and thinking, in dealing with national and local interests, often aligned as conservation versus development issues. Another issue confirming the need for planning is infrastructure investment. The need for such investment has been boosted by the need for economic recovery, as well as to compensate for Sweden’s peripheral location in the EU context. Swedish urban planning has been dominated by the so-called “Stockholm perspective”. Many municipalities, both large and small, subcontracted the work of preparing master plans to consultants, often employed in Stockholm-based agencies. In spite of this, however, many municipalities, like Marks Kommun, have developed their own planning tradition. Marks Kommun is well known among professional planners in Sweden for several reasons. One of them is the solid planning tradition and unusually large planning staff in the municipality. This tradition goes back to early 1970s, when eight independent municipalities were amalgamated into one. Secondly, Marks Kommun has a very decentralized physical structure, with many small urban centres. There has been strong political pressure to preserve the identity, and the social and environmental quality, of urban places and to ensure a contact network between them. Thirdly, there is much involvement with conservation issues. The case is about the making of the structure plan in a small, average Swedish municipality, but one with a strong planning tradition. There was an overwhelming conviction among local government officials as well as politicians that preparing the structure plan was not a matter of fulfilling the requirement of the new planning legislation but of providing the municipality with knowledge and strategies to deal with many complicated issues (environmental management, reorganization of the welfare state, EU regionalism and information technology), the consequences of which are difficult to assess. The institutional relations of plan-making Changing nature of institutional arenas Generally, the making of an overall plan has involved arenas where local government officials, politicians and consultants often met together, or in separate groups, to discuss drafts of various sections of the plan. Where appropriate, planmaking included dialogue with the public and various organized interest groups, including developers, the local business community, representatives of the county administration and national agencies.

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The new planning and environmental legislation and Sweden’s increasingly close relations with the EU have led to a change in the above arenas. First, the planning legislation provides that the structure plan should be a local plan. This leads to the increased importance of local negotiations with the business community, developers and the general public. Secondly, the structure plan covers the entire municipal territory, which requires negotiations between urban and rural interests. Thirdly, the legislation does not require the implementation of the plan. If the plan is to have any credibility, the local planning authority must state how the plan should be implemented. This changes the nature of the arena in which planners and decision-makers work (Floderus 1989). Fourthly, the Natural Resources Act gives new responsibility to municipal government with regard to environmental protection and conservation. This provides a new role for the Health and Environment Protection Board and for green interests in the local community. Fifthly, with the growing interest in regionalism (in contrast to previous decades of centralism), a new arena emerged involving various regional organizations and interests. Actors in the planning process The making of the structure plan was entrusted to a consultant, since the municipal planners felt that this would allow them time to prepare the area or issuespecific structure plans simultaneously. Moreover, the municipality was eager to meet the deadline (June 1990) set by the Swedish National Board of Housing, Building and Planning. The municipality required that the consultant should be based in the town hall during the entire planning period, which extended from mid-1987 to mid-1991. The consultant describes her role as follows: As a whole, the structure planning work was the most positive assignment I have ever had as a consultant. Marks Kommun comes at the top, with a broad margin, among all my favourite municipalities. One of the advantages of working in a small municipality like Marks Kommun is that one is close to decision-makers, one works in the same corridor, (you can) have a cup of coffee with them, etc. She continues: Except for the first three chapters of the plan (an introduction on the organization of the planning process, the implications of the new planning and building Act and a summary of the development of Marks Kommun), much of the text in the rest of the chapters are mine. To the extent that politicians and local government officials did not agree with it, the text was naturally revised. But such revisions often amounted to minor adjustments. We were in agreement on all the major issues. Whenever I made a mistake, the departments concerned corrected it without a lot of fuss.

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The consultant worked in the following manner. She prepared a proposal for every section of the plan, which was then sent for comments to a special group of local government officials with the special responsibility for structure planning. Following their comments, the proposal was revised. It was then sent to an executive group of politicians entrusted with the overall responsibility for structure planning. Following their comments, the proposal was once again revised. The same procedure was applied, even after the draft of the plan had been sent out for comments to the public, as well as after the final draft was put on public exhibition. What were the prerequisites that made the whole structure planning process successful and resulted in a plan with which the politicians as well as the local government officials could identify themselves? The consultant put forward several reasons for this success. First, knowledgeable and interested politicians were actively engaged in planning and environmental issues and were willing to pursue them politically. Party conflicts were rare. All politicians tried to achieve as broad an agreement as possible and they cooperated across party lines. Secondly, leading decision-makers were unusually receptive to new proposals and ideas. Sometimes a proposal was raised at one policy meeting and at the following meeting, it was found that the proposal was already being implemented. In Marks Kommun, people not only talked, they also acted. Thirdly, there were motivated and cooperative local government officials in different departments, who had, moreover, a well developed network and routines for exchanging information and viewpoints. These officials met regularly in interdepartmental working groups. Fourthly, there was an unusually alert and far-sighted Health and Environment Protection Department, which moreover succeeded in gaining a hearing for its views among politicians and other boards and offices to a much greater extent than is normally the case in other Swedish municipalities. Finally, within the Department, there was a competent municipal biologist interested in planning and development questions. He did not pursue the nature conservancy issues in a narrow way, but put them in a larger context and was successful in making sound judgements between conflicting interests. The other dimension of the institutional relations of plan-making were the consultation processes undertaken to involve organized interests (business, agriculture, trade unions) and individual citizens in the plan-making process. As far as the organized interests are concerned, there was an increasing tendency towards negotiative planning. Such negotiations occur in an informal way and often behind closed doors. Analyzing specific decisions is one way to find out the impact of pressure-group politics. Another way is to see how the politicians representing party interests reacted to different policy proposals. Business, agriculture and trade unions were “represented” by the three strongest parties in the municipal council. The broad agreements in the structure plan often conceal the impact of lobbying by organized interests. The Planning and Building Act requires all municipalities to consult citizens twice during the planning process. The plan proposal was sent out for comment to all citizen groups. At the same time, the municipality was obliged to arrange public hearings and inform the public about the contents of the plan through the local press and special brochures. The legislators intended that the structure plan would be subject to, and be a product of, local political pressures and consultations. Two factors that have played an

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important role in this are the increasing awareness of social diversity and the growing environmental consciousness among the population (sou 1993:90). Marks Kommun has active and well developed club activities. However, of the 174 public associations who received the preliminary proposal of the structure plans, only 24 sent some comments. Nevertheless, there were certain associations and popular movements (the Nature Conservancy Association, folklore associations, the “Living Countryside” movement and “Whole of Sweden Shall Live” movement) that were consulted during various phases of the planning process. Information to the public was provided through the local press, special brochures, displays in public libraries, and public meetings. Interest in the latter was rather limited in the larger urban centres, but was quite considerable in villages. Very few citizens sent in specific comments on the plan. Marks Kommun is well known as a municipality where citizen participation has been successful because of its “public associations model”. This is partly true. The active participation of specific associations that came with viewpoints and suggestions during the planning process was significant. However, the model was not fully utilized by the municipal planning authority. As one planner put it, Only a handful of persons in these associations came with comments. We should have tried to involve considerably more associations right from the start of the planning process. As it was, they came into picture when the preliminary plan text was already prepared. Key areas of institutional innovation It is difficult to identify one specific innovation in the way Marks Kommun organized the structure planning process. There are tendencies that cumulatively paved the way for a successful planning process. The close interplay between the consultant and the municipal officials is an interesting methodological feature. The consultant kept “drawing out” the plan from the planning culture. She kept exploring and testing to see that she had got it right. Furthermore, the strong commitment of various boards and offices and the desire on the part of all involved that the plan should not be just “a bunch of papers in the drawer” gave the planning process momentum and legitimacy. These features are part of the planning culture in Marks Kommun. Spatial planning worked well and was well integrated into other areas of local government because of a well developed planning culture through which intellectual and social capital was built up. This implies three things. First, planning was used as a means of communication. Secondly, it formed an important dimension for all local government work. Thirdly, it cemented the work of various boards and departments. Finally, the “public associations model” as a model of citizen participation, explicitly utilized by the planners, was an important component of this process.

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Policy agendas Spatial organization and broader agenda concerns The structure plan is essentially a land-use plan the contents of which are determined by urban growth demands and guidelines for resource conservation provided by the Natural Resources Act. Marks Kommun has interpreted the role of the structure plan as a strategic plan relating spatial organizing ideas to broader social, economic and environmental concerns. Thus, the spatial organizing ideas are a part of a much broader policy agenda. The major spatial organizing ideas focused on the location of future urban growth in relation to the existing urban centres, increasing accessibility to Göteborg metropolitan areas and the Borås region and the major thoroughfares. Planners and other specialists in local government were in favour of concentrating future housing in existing major urban centres in the municipality in order to improve efficiency in the use of service facilities, as well as minimizing car traffic. They also favoured the location of industrial and service enterprises around the existing urban areas or in urban places near the major highways. Many politicians, with the support of popular movements such as “Living Countryside” and “Whole of Sweden Shall Live”, supported freedom of choice with regard to household settlements. The structure plan left the door open for both, although the subsequent detailed development plans favoured the latter. Policy with regard to industrial and service enterprise location led to a different constellation of interests. In the face of pressure exerted by private developers, many politicians supported proposals that were less favourable to conservation interests. Nature protection groups and farmers opposed several such location proposals. The only cases where conservation interests were upheld were the ones where the county administration rejected the proposals on the basis of national guidelines for the preservation of natural resources. Spatial organizing ideas were, however, a part of a broader policy agenda. At least two policy issues have a major impact. There was a broad agreement among politicians, planners and developers with regard to the need for infrastructure investments (by which was meant road investments). Appropriate integration with Göteborg and Borås urban regions and reducing the isolation of the municipality in the new West Sweden region were the principal motives. However, these proposals came into conflict with nature conservation interests. For example, politicians strongly supported a new extension of the RV41 highway connecting the central district with the city of Borås in the northeast and the town of Varberg in the southwest. However, this proposal threatened some important ravines, which were supported by nature conservancy groups and the county administration. Since the conflict appeared unresolvable, the proposal was taken out of the plan. The municipal planners hope that it will be resolved in the area action plan. Environmental concerns were related to the presence of 32 natural or historical conservation sites, of which 10 were classified as national reserves. These were conceived by farmers, developers and several politicians (with electoral support in rural areas) as a constraint on development. For example, there were several controversial

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situations involving nature conservancy interests on the one hand and agricultural interests on the other. One of them related to the proposal for restoring the wetland around a drained lake in the valley of River Viskan in the southeast of Marks Kommun. It gave rise to a great deal of indignation among the farmers in that area. Despite this opposition, the structure plan supported the restoration. Similarly, there were cases where cultural or natural preservation came into conflict with development interests. One such case involved the preservation of an historical relic of national interest. The county museum wanted a total protection of a large area in the district of Hedby. The politicians did not agree to put a stop “once and for all” to the development in that district. A part of the area that the museum wanted to have protected had already been developed as a residential area. The negotiations ended with the decision to reclassify Hedby. It was no longer included as an historic site of national interest. Another set of environmental concerns were related to the long-term policies concerning sustainable development, ecocycles and a green society. In Marks Kommun, there was much concern about regional and/or intermunicipal cooperation with regard to the prevention of acidification of land and water resources, the reduction in use of chemicals, the recycling of household and industrial waste (joint destruction plants for dangerous industrial waste), and restricting excessive use of fertilizers. However, achieving intermunicipal cooperation in the environmental field is easier said than done. For example, water quality of the River Viskan is an old problem. It needs intermunicipal cooperation involving both private and public agencies. The river is contaminated by many industrial discharges and discharges from over-fertilizing. The city of Borås had installed a municipal discharge cleaning system, which improved the water quality somewhat. However, the municipalities could not agree on the sharing of costs and other responsibilities, so the problem was left to a future structure plan to solve. Policy articulation and policy discourses The structure plan makes use of a large number of metaphors and images to get political and public support. In order to justify the ambivalence with regard to future housing, it talks, on the one hand, in terms of “living countryside”, “freedom of choice”, and “let the whole kommun live”, and, on the other, in terms of “balanced territorial development” and “economies of scale”. In the same fashion it leaves the door open for a concentrated or dispersed industrial development with the help of concepts such as “spatial harmony” and “trickle down effects” respectively. In the case of infrastructure policies, the emphasis in the plan is on road investments. However, the plan keeps abreast of the current debate in Sweden with regard to the postindustrial society’s need for physical, social and IT infrastructure. Moreover, there is an environmental consideration in physical infrastructure investment. The plan not only argues in terms of reducing “physical isolation” and increasing “accessibility” to regional markets, but also in terms of the infrastructure requirements of a “knowledge” and “green” society. With regard to environmental policies, the plan is ambiguous about such concepts as “sustainability”, “biodiversity”, and “ecocycles”. It is clearer with regard to actionorientated policies such as limewashing water and land in order to reduce the impact of

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acidification, reducing nutrient substances in water catchments, and recycling industrial and household waste. Conscious of the fact that the structure plan provides nothing harder than guidelines for future development, Marks Kommun has kept the door open for conflicting spatial growth ideologies, that is, both balanced and unbalanced growth possibilities. Nor does it present an unequivocal picture about the domination of nature conservancy values over growth values. As shown above, nature conservancy interests prevailed in some cases but not in others. These ambiguities are less a reflection of a lack of coherence and more of retaining flexibility and managing different types of uncertainty. The earlier discourse involving highly specific land consumption policies has been replaced by a discourse, which emphasizes the need for general outlines for all major urban and rural activities, as well as all geographical districts within the municipality. Methods Rational comprehensive planning theory (see Ch. 2), has had a profound impact on public decision-making in Sweden. Great emphasis has been placed on drawing proper conclusions from the information collected. The procedure for preparing master plans came to be based on the procedural planning model. However, a majority of plans had a functional approach. They often focused on a particular topic—land use, social welfare, education, and so on. Comprehensiveness became neglected, in the sense of coordinating economic, social and environmental dimensions of planning. In master plans, land use was the main focus. Different attempts have been made to bring about some horizontal coordination between plans. When physical planning based on master plans came into disrepute in the late 1960s, the Swedish Association for Local Authorities launched the Common Planning Premises Model (Gemensamma Planeringsförutsattningar). It was perhaps the last attempt at comprehensive rational planning, requiring municipalities to prepare a set of common assumptions, a common databank, and long-term projections about strategic economic, social and environmental variables. The model-builders assumed that its application would provide a comprehensive insight into the preconditions of planning and a framework for coordinating different forms of plans (Khakee 1983). The model has been used with varying degrees of success in different municipalities. Marks Kommun developed a “planning-8” (see Fig. 11.2), which in combination with common planning premises was the central element in preparing plans and action programmes. This was an ambitious planning system for a small municipality, but it facilitated the coordinated development of different types of plans. It helped to link the institutional and procedural elements of planning. Above all, it helped to establish the interrelation of economic, social and environmental issues in plan-making. There were several methodological implications for the structure planning process. First, this and its outcome (the plan and various policy directives) were firmly established among different boards and local government offices. Secondly, it was easy to derive general goals and in some cases, even operational ones. Thirdly, it helped to generate interest and commitment among boards and offices. Fourthly, municipal planners were able to prepare several other plans at the same time as the work on the structure plan

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Figure 11.2 Marks Kommun: the “planning-8”. progressed. These included the Plan for Water Resources, Nature Conservancy Plan and eight area- or issue-specific structure plans. It was unusual for any municipality to prepare so many plans simultaneously with the structure plan. Marks Kommun was in this way able to achieve feedback in the preparation of several plans. The planning process was thereby able to involve many local government officials and politicians, as well as representatives of various interest groups. Finally, the resulting structure plan presented a relatively clear statement of goals while referring to the detailed policy contents of specific plans. These plans presented spatial and environmental policies for socio-economic development in a specific district. Moreover, they were decisionorientated. This method of planning provided the possibility of testing the consistency between plans at two different levels of planning, as well as helping the planners and others involved in the planning process to appreciate the horizontal relationship between various functional dimensions of planning.

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Consequences In order to appreciate the consequences of this first round of structure planning in Marks Kommun, it is important to keep in mind the contradictory forces that influenced this process. The forces working for less planning include the decrease in and weakening of the measures through which municipalities could exercise active land-use policy, leaving greater initiative to private developers in urban development; the reorientation towards the market and the dismantling of the welfare state, which implied a curtailment of the municipal monopoly over the production and distribution of a wide range of services, the political uncertainty at the central level, where the Social Democrats have not only lost their hegemony over the political power but had also abandoned many of the major tenets of the environmental imperative with its demand for planning for sustainable development; the decentralization of planning and other responsibilities to municipalities, which acts as an incentive for local mobilization of resources; and, finally, increasing uncertainty with regard to the spatial consequences of EU membership and the stronger urge to develop strategies for intermunicipal and regional spatial cooperation (Khakee 1995). The long-term deployment of resources in the planning system, which resulted in a well developed planning culture in Marks Kommun, counteracted the “planning wariness” that characterized many Swedish municipalities. The fact that the municipality could prepare several detailed development plans for urban places, specific action programmes for roads, conservation of various nature areas, cultural sites and housing, made the whole exercise meaningful not only for planners and decision-makers but also for the public at large. The “planning-8” system developed in Marks Kommun was important in this context, for it made it possible to maintain and consolidate relations between various departments and boards, old and new actors, and formal and informal arenas, and to enhance the interplay between broad strategies, policy guidelines and legally binding detailed development plans. The preparation of the structure plan was left to a consultant, which in other municipalities might have resulted in a “paper product”. In Marks Kommun, the consultant became a key person within the “planning-8” network. Bearing in mind the very large number of consultant-produced master plans and municipal planning guidelines that have never been implemented in Sweden, the work of the consultant can be characterized as “very successful”. The “common planning premises model”, developed by the Swedish Association of Local Authorities, has essentially been an organizational approach. By centralizing planning functions under the municipal executive board, the authors of the model had expected that the interrelation of economic, social and environmental issues would be automatically established in plan-making. The latter has not taken place in many municipalities where the model has failed to bring about the necessary coordination in planning (Khakee 1983). An important lesson from the plan-making in Marks Kommun is that formal organizational changes are by themselves not enough. They need to be embedded in an interactive planning culture, which makes it possible for both formal and informal arenas to bring about the necessary interplay between social, economic and environmental factors. Structure planning in Marks Kommun had shortcomings with respect to public involvement and handling conflicts. The municipality was proud of its “association

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model”. However, the issue of public involvement is more complex than an application of a particular model. Even though the draft plan proposals were sent to a large number of public associations, only a few reacted. Many of the associations felt that it was “too late” to affect the plan contents near the end of the process. This feeling is quite justified. A recent evaluation of structure planning in Sweden as a whole shows that only 2 per cent of the planners and decisionmakers thought that public comments played any significant role in revising the plan (Khakee 1995). Public participation is essentially a political issue. A majority of political parties in Sweden feel that the mechanisms of representative democracy are sufficient to ensure the citizen voice is heard in public policy-making. However, in Marks Kommun, many planners are aware that political representation is not enough to ensure a broad public involvement in plan-making. A few of the popular movements were consulted throughout the planning process. This did not entail any delay in the planning process, nor did it entail extra costs. This might be a first step towards involving many more of the public associations in future plan-making. Avoidance of public conflicts and arriving at a compromise are watchwords in Swedish policy-making (see, for example, Anton 1975). The tendency is to remit conflict-filled issues for further investigations or to future plans, in the hope that circumstances might change and make the issues less controversial. This is disturbing, since the structure plan involves several issues of principle, involving environmental conservation versus growth, and urban versus rural development. Failure to solve these conflicts makes the structure plan much less “robust” than it would have been if the conflicts had been handled within the structure planning process (see, for example, Rosenhead 1989). With impending changes in the public sector and the increasing tendency towards negotiative planning (where negotiations take place in closed boardrooms), there is a danger that the avoidance of conflicts might make the whole planning process futile and lead to frustrations among those who are committed in the municipality’s well developed planning culture. The driving forces of innovation The main forces behind innovations in structure planning in Marks Kommun have been already discussed. To summarize, they were, first, the existence of a strong planning tradition, maintained by the encouraging involvement of political parties and of providing the resources to keep up planning competencies, thereby counteracting the planning wariness prevalent in other Swedish municipalities. The increased emphasis on environmental issues was a second factor, especially through participation in regional networks in order to counteract the impact of transnational environmental disturbances. A third pressure was the adjustment in policies on housing and the provision of social services following the dismantling of national regulations and cuts in public expenditure. A fourth was Sweden’s impending membership of the EU and the subsequent adjustment in Marks Kommun’s policies for intermunicipal cooperation and infrastructure development. A fifth pressure was the increased political appreciation of attracting private services and knowledge-intensive industries in order to counteract the decline in employment in traditional industries and the public sector. Finally, there was strong local

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support for increased attention towards a more broadly based consultation process and for de-emphasizing the corporatist tendencies in plan-making. The most important lessons to be learnt from the Marks Kommun case study are; first, that a well developed planning culture is of vital importance for successful spatial planning and its integration into other areas of local government. Secondly, the issue of broadly based public consultation is more complex than the application of a particular model. Thirdly, organizational changes by themselves are not enough to ensure the interrelation of economic, social and environmental issues. Fourthly, strategic planning with a legitimizing rather than implementational role can only fulfil its role if strategies are related to decision-orientated plans. References and further reading Anton, T.J. 1975. Governing Greater Stockholm: a study of policy development and system change Berkeley: University of California Press. Floderus, A. 1989. Planeringens trovärdighet [The credibility and legitimacy of physical planning] Gävle: Swedish Institute for Building Research [SIB]. Khakee, A. 1983. Municipal planning: restrictions, methods and organizational problems. Stockholm: Swedish Council for Building Research. Khakee, A. 1995. Politics, method and planning culture: an evaluation of structure planning. In Remaking the welfare state: Swedish urban planning and policy making in the 1990s, A.Khakee, I.Elander, S.Sunesson (eds), 275–96. Aldershot, England: Avebury. Marks Kommun 1990. Översiktsplan 90 for Mark [Structure plan 90 for Mark]. Mark: Municipal Executive Department. —1993. Gemensamma planeringsförutsättningar 1993–95 [Common planning premises]. Mark: Municipal Executive Department. Montin, S. 1993. Swedish local government in transition: a matter of rationality and legitimacy. Örebro: University of Örebro. Ödmann, E. 1992. Planlagstiftningen och välfärden [Legislation on land use and welfare]. Gävle: Swedish Institute for Building Research [SIB]. Reade, E. (ed.) 1989. Britain and Sweden: current issues in local government. Gävle: Swedish Institute for Building Research [SIB]. Rosenhead, J. 1989. Robustness analysis: keeping your options open. In Rational analysis for a problematic world, J.Rosenhead (ed.), 193–218. Chichester, England: John Wiley. SFS 1987a. Plan- och bygglag [Planning and Building Act]. Stockholm: Parliamentary Records. SFS 1987b. Lag om hushållning med naturresurser [Natural Resources Act]. Stockholm: Parliamentary Records. sou 1974:21 Markanvändning och byggande: betänkandet angivet av bygglagutredningen [Land use and building: report from the Commission on Planning and Building Legislation]. Stockholm: Allmänna. —1989:55 Fungerande regioner i samspel. Slutbetänkande av 1987 års regionalpolitiska kommitté [Interplay between functioning regions: final report from the Commission on Regional Policy]. Stockholm: Allmänna. —1993:90 Lokal demokrati i utveckling. Slutbetänkande av lokaldemokratikommittén [Evolution of local democracy: final report by Commission on Local Democracy]. Stockholm: Allmänna. Westman, B. 1991. Devolution of power to local authorities. In Swedish planning in times of transition, A.Fredlund (ed.), 145–51. Gävle: Swedish Society for Town and Country Planning.

CHAPTER TWELVE Community to communication The Schema Strutturale per la provincia di Grosseto, 1990—designing strategies Alessandro Vignozzi1

Institutional and geographical context Institutional context Italy is divided into 20 regions, 103 provinces and 8103 communes. So, including the country as a whole, there are four administrative levels. However, the administrative role of the province is unclear and has been fluctuating considerably in recent years. Now, in the mid-1990s, it seems likely that this role will be strengthened and that each province will have to draw up autonomously two important kinds of plans: the Piani Paesistici2 (landscape and countryside plan) and/or the Piani Territoriali di Coordinamento Intercomunale (PTC, Spatial Plan for Intercommunal Coordination).3 In the mid-1980s, however, the province seemed destined to lose its administrative power, and several efforts were made to create a direct link between the regional level and the communal level, by-passing the province. A new wave of structure plans made by some regions was one of the most important results of these efforts. Among the most interesting experiments in this sense was the Schemi Strutrurali introduced by the Regione Toscana (Tuscany Region) in 1984.4 A Schema Strutturale is a structure plan made by the region to coordinate planning activity at the local level and to foster the implementation of policies for different functional sectors. So, a Schema Strutturale is not only a frame for local planning; in some cases it may become an exercise in strategic planning itself. Like a unitary development plan in the British planning system, it can encompass both a strategic planning framework and local/site policies (Williams 1992). A Schema Strutturale has both a direct and an indirect power with respect to regulating changes to the physical environment. It contains regulations and restraints that immediately prevail over the provisions of local plans, influencing the giving out of building permits. But, most of all, it gives directions to the communes that 1. Alessandro Vignozzi was actively involved in this case as a planner. 2. These are required by Law 431/85. 3. These are required by Law 341/85. 4. The legal authority for this is Legge Regionale.

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they should adapt existing plans. It is also supposed to have a considerable effect on those making and implementing sectoral plans (e.g. for roads, water, sewage and so on). Six Schemi Strutturali were started by the Regione Toscana at the end of the 1980s. Three of them concern the main conurbations, including two or more provincial areas (Florence-Prato-Pistoia, Pisa-Livorno). One concerns a small conurbation in the coastal area of a province (Massa-Carrara). Three of them concern a whole province (Arezzo, Siena, Grosseto). In no case was the province to play an important role as an administrative actor. The main actors always proved to be the Regione Toscana, which made the plan, and the communes that collaborated or counteracted. Only one of these plans, Florence-Prato-Pistoia, had come into force by 1990. The remainder were drawn up as preliminary documents and were to be replaced by the new Piano Territoriale di Coordinamento Intercomunale, as a consequence of the new emphasis on the provincial level. This paper analyzes one of the “unfinished” plans, the Schema Strutrurale per la Provincia di Grosseto, which is generally considered to be the most innovative. The main innovation in plan-making method is in the field of participation and consensus-building, with special reference to the way the planning contents were developed and explained in order to foster communication and agreement between the actors involved. Most of the innovative contents of this plan are being maintained by the new Piano Territoriale di Coordinamento, started in April 1995 by the same planning team. It is not easy to explain how this case fits in with other experience in Italy. Italian planning had almost no experience in this field before the end of the last decade. Besides, most of the previous structure plans ended in failure because they did not adequately face the problem of coordinating policies and development on a large scale. According to one of the most authoritative Italian planners, many of these plans turned out to be “feeble references, sceneries out of focus or legitimation systems for heterogeneous actors” (Secchi 1987). Also, from a methodological point of view, there have been several different approaches (some deriving from English experience), but none of them has been able to set up a firm landmark, although the Schema Strutturale for the conurbation of Florence-Prato-Pistoia was considered as an interesting model by many planners. The plan-making exercise to be analyzed illustrates one of the most appreciated attempts to work out an up-to-date planning method with special reference to the emerging dimension of the Province. This attempt does not specifically refer to any previous experiences in Italy. Indeed, it is mostly based on European models and debate. It is hard to say how much this attempt will influence the new generation of Piani Territorial! di Coordinamento, considering that more than a hundred plans will be drawn up in the next few years. It will be the responsibility of this great flood of plans to sketch a new scenery for future structure planning in Italy. Demographic change and development activity in the province of Grosseto The province of Grosseto lies in the southern part of Tuscany facing the Tyrrhenian sea, about half way between Pisa and Rome (Fig. 12.1). The area of this province is about 4500km2 and its population is only about 220000. Its demographic density (less than 50 people per km2) is one of the lowest in the whole of Italy. The overall number of

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inhabitants has been steady in the past decade, and there are no signs of this changing. However, young people tend to flee from the

Figure 12.1 Grosseto in the Italian context. small ancient villages in the hinterland, which are occupied by foreigners (mostly German and Swiss). Life-styles are changing rapidly. An increase in the number of households is the most important factor in the demand for new development. There is a widespread dissatisfaction with the quality of life, with special reference to the lack of any urban centres with the qualities of “cities”. Many young people go to

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Florence (almost a hundred miles away) every weekend in search of leisure activities. But in some areas of the province, the developing networks of villages are beginning to find ways of improving quality of life opportunities. The main centres of the coast share a common form of dispersed industrial and residential growth. The old centres on the hills of the hinterland, left by their inhabitants, tend to generate new residential areas in the valleys, where it is easier to find space for parking and services. Many natural areas are threatened by large developers who seek to build tourist villages, and in the countryside the foreign owners change the traditional uses of land. Private enterprise generally prevails, although many communes provide a considerable share of public housing. However, the relations between the public and private sector are weak and sporadic. The relations between planning authorities, landowners, developers and financial institutions are dominated by a mutual lack of confidence, as the inhabitants of this area, which is traditionally considered as a sort of Italian “Far West”, are accustomed to mostly rely on themselves. This attitude is slowly changing as a consequence of the solidarity fostered by leftwing administrations, which are in the majority. However, despite continuous efforts, there is not yet a widespread consciousness that the quality of development is an issue of general interest and that the use of land must be decided through agreements between several actors. Economic change and environmental issues The key trends in the local economy of this case-study area are, first of all, the crisis of tourism, and, secondly, the evolution of agriculture. Tourism has not yet evolved from a spontaneous phenomenon towards a rationally organized activity. Land resources, mainly beaches and countryside, are exploited only for a short period of the year and there is insufficient reinvestment in them. The crisis of tourism also affects spatial tendencies. On the one hand, the disorderly growth in the coastal area has come to a temporary stop. On the other hand, the acknowledged need for a higher quality of tourist facility has led to a growing demand for new development patterns that can preserve environmental quality. Agriculture is undergoing a sort of split evolution from traditional techniques, towards advanced, highly productive cultivation in the lowlands; and towards specialist, highly profitable, production in the highlands. The present trends in agriculture induce a continuous change in the landscape, sometimes threatening natural and historical beauty. The consciousness of past damage has led to many planning constraints, which, in their turn, threaten to restrain an already slow economic growth even more. As a consequence of both of these factors, the socio-economic needs of the local communities are generally in conflict with environmental objectives. These are always conceived as imposed by the more affluent inhabitants of the inner part of Tuscany in order to preserve an environment to be enjoyed only in summer holidays. The key relationship, which the plan would need to affect, is to spread the consciousness that the environment is a driving force of the whole local economy. To achieve this goal, a new confidence in planning must be restored among the people. This can be done only if rigid constraints are replaced by a flexible set of rules, which can allow growth while turning the environmental resources to better account.

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The key environmental qualities are those of an almost uncontaminated land, the name of which Maremma, from the Latin (regio) maritima, is synonymous with rough and wild natural beauty. Outstanding natural beauties are protected and valued by international, national, regional and local agreements, rules and laws. For instance, the lagoons are protected by the Ramsar agreement and partially managed by the World Wildlife Fund as “natural oases”. Historical and landscape beauties are protected by national laws.5 The Regione Toscana instituted the Parco Naturale della Maremma in the coastal area. Almost any change in development will have many profound implications for all this (Vignozzi 1989). Therefore, the environmental management activity must be considered as the most important issue in the whole area. Political tendencies and driving forces Political preoccupations are generally involved with local issues, as a consequence of the fact that this area has very few links with the rest of the region and the nation. However, the political debate is often related to EU concerns, in that agricultural policies are considerably affected by decisions and finance from the European government. Local government and governance is organized as in the rest of Italy. The territory of the province includes 28 communes (which is very few in Italy). Its inhabitants share a strong identity as a result of the isolation of the area. But this identity is generally perceived as being negative, because of the lack of an administrative and bureaucratic tradition. Maremma has always been a possession of foreign owners (Siena, Florence, Spain, Granducato di Toscana), who exploited its natural resources without any concern for its inhabitants. This historical experience has a deep implication for the institutional arenas that influence spatial change and environmental management. Indeed, any attempt to foster a local policy seems to be doomed to break against a wall of scepticism. In the meantime, there is a great demand for innovation, and these relations can be changed only if a policy can demonstrate that it can be effectively implemented. This has not been possible until now, mainly because the left-wing administrations had an intellectualist approach to the key issues and were not able to reconcile environmental quality and economic growth. Yet right-wing administrations, which fostered economic growth, have irreparably spoiled the environment. The critical factors behind the above tendencies relate to the capability to build a consensus about the identity and the consequent development pattern of the area. If the life-style peculiarities of a network of dispersed urban systems, immersed in an unpolluted natural environment, are definitely recognized and appreciated, and if this area does not strive to compete with the metropolitan areas of the region, there can be a chance for conspicuous socio-economic growth. If this does not happen, any development policy risks being diverted by heterogeneous goals or by the interests of alien entrepreneurs. However, the increasing level of cultural and environmental consciousness tends to focus the debate on environmental issues in a way that can excessively hinder any economic growth. The environmental inheritance is generally considered as something above and outside the economic sphere instead of an integrated 5. Laws 1089/39 and 1497/39 or 431/85.

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part of the socio-economic structure. If the change towards a balanced approach to the exploitation of natural resources is too slow, any development policy risks being paralyzed, condemning many communes to decades of stagnation. The case The making of this Schema Strutturale provided a chance to introduce considerable innovations in the planning experience of the Regione Toscana. Indeed, the plan-making method was consciously chosen, so that the plan would fulfil its goals with special reference to the behaviour of the inhabitants and to the environmental issues. The most important purposes of the planning exercise were: to provide a description and an interpretation of an area which had not yet benefited from important planning studies, to draw up a planning framework to address specific strategic projects, to compare and select the most important of such projects, and to propose specific policies for environmental rehabilitation, maintenance and exploitation. In terms of process, the main objectives were to involve as many people as possible in planning matters, to develop consensus about the key issues by explaining strengths and weaknesses, opportunities and threats, to develop the identity of the area in conformity with the feelings of its inhabitants, and to set up a firm connection between the region and the local levels of planning and administration. The chronology of the plan-making process is summarized in Table 12.1. The key issues at stake concerned four planning sectors: agriculture, tourism, transport infrastructure and environment (the last one being considered as a frame for the preceding ones), in the field of agriculture the problem was to reconcile economic growth with the maintenance of traditional farming and of the environmental character. The opportunity for a reorganization of land parcels was also

Table 12.1 Chronology of plan-making. 1988 Autumn 1988—Spring 1990 Spring 1989 Spring 1989—Winter 1990 Spring 1990 1990–1995 Spring 1995

The regional government decides to make an ss for the Provincia di Grosseto. Conventions in Grosseto. The planning team is appointed. Survey and interviews. The preliminary document is published by the Regione. Interruption of the planning process. The same planner is appointed to draw up the PTC as a completion of the ss.

debated, but the most discussed question was the use and distribution of EU financing. In the field of tourism there was a struggle between those who favoured a huge increase in the number of hotels and villages and those who preferred to increase the quality of the supply, preserving the integrity of the natural environment and avoiding the expansion of the urban fabric, especially a dispersed expansion. In the field of transport infrastructure,

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almost all the local authorities asked for new roads. But the main issue concerned the way of working out the national connection along the coast (the so-called “Tyrrhenian Corridor”). Some wanted to build a new highway (A12) in the hinterland; others preferred to enlarge the existing road along the coast. The maintenance of environmental quality was considered as the most important goal by the regional authority, but, at a local level, people put an emphasis on unrestricted use of land for both production and recreation. This plan was seen to be innovative by planners, bureaucrats and the press, in terms of both process and policy content and of the technical and methodological approach. It proposed a strategy based on the concept of sustainable development to exploit the environmental resources. It tried a method of developing consensus, making decisions and drawing up planning contents that is not yet common in Italian practice. It was fostered by a radical participation process and it combined aspects of the traditional structure planning with new experiences of strategic planning, with special reference to: “broad-scale information gathering, an exploration of alternatives and an emphasis on the future implications of present decisions” (Bryson 1989). A considerable effort was made to communicate the planning contents in an easily understandable way, trying to involve as many people as possible in the process of decision-making, so that the plan could be considered as the result of an actual alliance between the planning authorities and the local communities. Another important aspect of the plan, consistent with recent trends in the Italian debate (Mazza 1993), is the role played by the description of the issues as a main point of reference for any further policy or decisions that had to be made. A more precise judgement can be derived from a comparison between this Schema Strutturale and the one made for the conurbation of Florence-Prato-Pistoia. Comparisons with other plans are not profitable, because, as has been stated, exercises of this kind are not very widespread in Italy and, above all, their approaches are extremely heterogeneous and their results very limited. In contrast, the Schema Strutturale for Florence-PratoPistoia is a point of reference among Italian planners, because it was drawn up by one of the most prominent Italian planners (Astengo 1990) and it was generally considered as the most authoritative and advanced exercise in this field. With respect to participation and decision-making, both the Florence and Grosseto plans strive to foster participation by public and private actors, but in different ways. The plan for Florence had a more institutional approach. Three formal meetings were organized to develop consensus among the local administrations as the planning work went on. The plan for Grosseto added to this level of participation a more circumstantial and systematic dialogue, with several informal meetings. In this way the “consensusbuilding approach” (Gorgels 1992) allowed urban planners to take into account the social environment, afforded the availability of more concrete and shared inputs, and granted a significant role to the bottom-up processes in decision-making. Moreover, this plan aimed at a renewed role in decision-making by the actors involved. These actors are not considered as: “agents on the receiving end of policy, who mechanically implement the lines of policy set by policy-makers” (de Lange 1992), but as people who “have their own goals and their own means to (try to) achieve these goals.” (ibid.). As a consequence of this, the whole plan uses the perspective of these stakeholders as a basis for policy evaluation.

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As regards methods, the Florence plan aims at fixing definite procedures and rules for problem-solving, sometimes trying to replace a mere restraint by performance criteria. But in so doing it shows little interest in specific projects. It is mostly a written plan, specifically directed at other planners, and it does not strive to explain the possible results through graphic representations that anybody can understand. Its representations look like an attempt at fascinating people without really explaining the planning contents. Similarly, the rules in the Grosseto plan are generally based on performance criteria. In addition, this plan is focused on “describing” the area through a judgemental analysis. It also proposes strategic projects consistent with such a “description”. It uses design tools extensively to foster an open debate and to prefigure concretely the feasibility of these projects, inverting the way of analysis from present-future to future-present (Dematteis 1988). The whole plan is drawn up keeping in mind its users and contributors and it tries to stimulate people’s imagination in order to form a deep alliance between public administration and society. With respect to contents, those of the Florence plan are mostly preservative. The options for developing new functions are generally considered as threats, rather than chances for upgrading, as if speculative interests could in no case be directed to good results for the whole community. “Positive” proposals are very rare. Besides, each proposal seems to be the functional solution of a sectoral problem, with the result of “hardening the categories” (Gibelli 1993). The zoning map legends mostly consist of definite restraints or use prescriptions. The Grosseto plan, in contrast, takes its inspiration from history to propose important changes in the local environment. The concept of sustainable development guides decisions, the aim of which is to foster development in a way that is coherent with the existing settlements, instead of preventing or restraining it. Many new roads and harbours are provided for, but a set of simple rules strictly determines their location in the environment. Any proposal is the result of a systems approach, where the character of place often plays a crucial role. The zoning map legends mostly consist of flexible policies and briefs for coordinated development. The institutional relations of plan-making The key areas of institutional innovation The key areas of institutional innovation concern the search for consensus and understanding. The process of plan-making was promoted through, and accompanied by, a series of four conventions (Conferenze di Programmazione), which had a wide participation of local authorities and representatives of public and private interests. Each convention focused on one of the key issues at stake (agriculture, tourism, transport infrastructure, environmental quality). The regional authority explained its goals and policies for each sector of intervention, and the local authorities and other actors expressed their opinion and introduced new problems or specific aspects of each issue. The plan-makers appointed by the region summarized and interpreted the results of this process and participated in preparing the programme for the final convention. In the meantime they developed the Schema Strutturale through a participation process that

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involved interviews and discussions with representatives of the local authorities. At the same time, the main actors (officials of the region, mayors, representatives of public bodies and the managers of the larger corporations) sought to come to arrangements through negotiations about financing and organizing implementation. The preliminary document was conceived as a tool to afford a better understanding and therefore to accelerate the conclusion of such negotiations. In this way the plan aimed at representing a discursive consensus among stakeholders, a consensus that could hold over time and across different fields of action. Existing policies, processes, methods and instruments were often deeply transformed for new purposes during the period of plan-making. The main problem the plan-makers had to face was to link policy to action in a context where there was no experience in this field. And although the planning process was interrupted, some important results were achieved, at least methodologically. The ideas developed in the planning process were linked to the available formal and informal rules governing spatial development in several different ways. Building and planning codes were provided in some outstanding areas where architectural character was to be preserved. Requirements for contributions from developers were fixed, for instance, for industrial plants or for development along tourist routes. Sometimes there was a need to change the existing rules in order to pursue the innovations, with special regard to administrative requirements. For instance, there was an attempt to introduce advisory panels to preserve landscape quality in some areas of outstanding value. Nevertheless, the plan-making effort was designed to make links to formal procedures. When an important result was at stake, suggestions were provided to adapt the practice of local bureaucracies. The planning contents were linked in a general way to the resource flows in land transactions, investment decisions for development or infrastructure, management and maintenance investment. But despite the efforts of the plan-makers, the bureaucrats of the region gave no opportunities for realizing in advance a specific link with financial investment decisions nor a coordination between the various sectors involved in the infrastructural policies. However, the preliminary document pointed out that these key relationships needed to be influenced in order for the plan “to make a difference”. Actors and processes The decision to make this plan was determined by a special intervention of the Assessore all’Urbanistica6 of the Regione Toscana, who was deeply involved in the future of the province of Grosseto, in as much as he lived there and kept his electoral basis in that town. His role in fostering the plan-making and building consensus at various levels was very important. The planning team had always been strongly supported by the Assessore. Besides they were always kept aware of any change in the political mood, so they could act effectively in the various arenas of plan-making. These arenas were essentially the informal interviews, the four conventions and the several opportunities for dialogue with the two levels of local planning (province and 6. The post of assessore is an elected technical official.

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commune). The citizens could express their opinions directly in the conventions or through their representatives in the informal interviews (the small size of the communes made the latter solution more common). Another important arena was formed within the regional bureaucracy in order to decide financing, but it remained separate from the others. This problem was immediately noticed and pointed out by the planners, but with no appreciable results. Each arena evolved in a different way. Both the conventions and the interviews facilitated identifying interests, developing policy ideas, developing consensus and influencing action, but the interviews were much more successful. Mayors and representatives of public bodies, corporations and private interests had access to both conventions and interviews at different stages. This had a very fundamental effect on the process, the policy content and the methods and instruments, as a result of the bottom-up approach chosen by the planners. Conflicts arose, first, by bringing into contact different decision levels (national, regional, provincial and communal) and, secondly, by the existence of individual or local interests that were not consistent with the general interest. In the first type of conflict, the planners tried to focus on the provincial level, although the province was the weakest of the administrative levels involved. They argued that this plan was to establish the bases for a strategic dimension that had never been experienced in this area. In the second type of conflict, there was generally an effort to show other possibilities than those proposed by the separate opponents. Non-antagonistic conflicts (Törnqvist 1992) were followed by changes that brought about quality improvements. The consensus-making efforts introduced by the four conventions took place especially through the informal contacts of the planners’ interviews and in wide publicity about the plan at the various levels. However, the plan-making effort built up in this way was then stalled when the Assessore was replaced in the regional government. Five years had to pass before the planning impetus was revived, this time in the preparation of a Piano Territoriale di Coordinamento. Policy agendas Policy agendas and policy articulation The key issues for the making of the Schema Strutturale per la Provincia di Grosseto were in the fields of agriculture, tourism, transport infrastructures and environmental quality. With reference to this set of problems, the ideas for projects and policies were developed by comparing the present situation of this province with the transformations already experienced during its historical evolution and with the most prominent ideas, which are being successfully applied in the rehabilitation of similar European (especially Mediterranean) areas. The plan was to influence several fields of action: the future planning activity of the separate communes, the policies of the sector authorities, and the behaviour of the private infrastructure companies. The expected influence was to take place in public sector development activity by accelerating the implementation of some policies that had been stopped by the combined forces of groups with very different interests (e.g. the

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development of tourist harbours, which were fiercely opposed by both the “green” movement and the owners of the bathing establishments) and by ensuring that already agreed development projects fitted in with new landscape requirements (e.g. the development of hospitals or power plants), the proposed location of which seemed to be incompatible with the uncontaminated image of Maremma. The policies for each sector were generally linked to all the others. For instance, cultivation was always considered at the same time as a way of producing food, reproducing landscape, supporting a lasting tourism, giving identity to the local communities, and promoting the image of the whole Maremma. Spatial organizing ideas and temporal horizons The location of households was to be guided by policies of landscape protection and exploitation. Any form of scattered development was forbidden, especially along the coasts and in the vicinity of the ancient villages on the hilltops. Instead, high density development was fostered in such a way as to strengthen the traditional landscape. Also, the dispersed growth of the chief town was to be stopped and shaped by a “green wall” along the new ringroad. The location of firms was to be conditioned by environmental prescriptions. A specific project for a “labour road” was provided in order to exploit the availability of the national road n. 1 Aurelia, traffic from which was to be absorbed by the A12. Along this road any new plant would be subsidized, but severe prescriptions were to guide the design quality, the number and disposition of trees, and the shape of the road front. Real estate investment was expected to increase in the areas that had previously had policies of rigid environmental restraint. Also, the foreign firms, whose proposals for new tourist villages had invariably been frustrated, were encouraged to submit projects, if they were able to improve the existing landscape quality. A widespread growth of infrastructure investment seemed to be the most important consequence of solving the old problem of the A12 layout (see below). The temporal horizons of the plan were generally long. In some cases they reached 20 years, considering the time needed for making the new Piani Regolatori Generali for each commune and for their implementation.7 However, the temporal horizons were different for different policies. Some “strategic projects” were to be started immediately. Unlike most similar plans, this Schema Strutturale conceived time as a temporal dynamic much more than an endpoint to be reached. It was a plan that tried to generate actions rather than to reach a certain final result. Policy discourses The ideas, images and metaphors used to identify and convey the issues during the planmaking process had an evocative nature. For instance, the subdivision of the province into seven “towns” (actually networks of scattered villages) was illustrated by identifying

7. The Piano Regolatore Generate is the primary tool for land-use regulation in Italy, adopted by each commune.

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the shape of each territorial network with an object, the shape of which could exhibit its internal relations, such as a wheel, an arch and a column, a rake, a catchment basin, and a grid (Fig. 12.2). These evocative images were used to be sure that anyone could understand and remember the main ideas of the plan, so that the communication between the actors could be as easy and impartial as possible. Besides, the planners tried to develop a common language in order to cut across the differences in “vocabularies” of urban design, real estate development, redistribution or environmental quality.

Figure 12.2 Examples of the visual metaphors of the plan. The policy theories encapsulated in the discourses are both of a cause-effect and of a problem-solution nature. The expected effects of present trends were analyzed in order to prefigure scenarios and then try to solve the consequent problems. Such a process emphasized, in order of decreasing importance, the following considerations: rational policy analysis, as the main problem was to restrain conflicting trends; aesthetic, given the prominent role of landscape; social justice, as some local communities had been downgraded by previous policies; economic, because there was a widespread fear of recession; bureaucratic/procedural, because of the introduction of quality controls on development activity; legal, as far as it proved to be essential; and auditing, although this was not considered to be a main issue. The discourses were a very successful way of coordinating diverse actors in the planmaking process. The widespread use of images and slogans fostered a rapid understanding of the issues in different arenas and proved to be a powerful consensusmaking device.

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Methods Informing, analyzing, appraising, evaluating The main strategy used in determining the frame for planning lay in facing the problems of the area as if there were no existing policies at all (which is not so far from the reality, at least in terms of integrated policies). The first step was asking the representatives of each commune to describe their territories and then listening to their interpretation of their values and problems, something like an induced SWOT analysis (strengths, weaknesses, opportunities, threats) (Gibelli 1993). Then the results of these interviews were patiently re-elaborated, checking the sum of all descriptions in the light of scientific relevance and according to a holistic approach. The main proposals were formulated, concentrating on the goals pointed out by local representatives and choosing those demands that seemed to be consistent with a general growth in the long run. The policy content was developed by formulating and discussing alternative solutions, checking their feasibility through brief impact analyses, and then checking the chosen policies in interviews with the interested parties. Working plans were elaborated for the short run and the long run. The former were based on detailed surveys and on a widespread use of design tools. The latter were aimed at creating a general frame for policies, to be specified further at the moment of their adoption. In addition, one of the most important issues of the plan, the layout of the proposed A12 highway, was specifically studied in parallel research undertaken by the same team. The result of this huge amount of work was a booklet where each option was analyzed and compared in a way that everyone could easily understand and discuss. More generally, an effort was made to describe the results of the policies through comparisons with similar experiences elsewhere, in order to persuade the actors involved in the implementation. Presentation In considering the plan format, it must be remembered that the plan has not yet come into force. The provisional format of this plan was arrived at through a patient consideration of its use as a tool to “represent the community” (Ascher 1992) and to stimulate debate and develop consensus, more than as a bureaucratic instrument. To achieve this goal, the whole plan was concentrated in a brief book. This included an explanation of the proposed goals and of the method followed; a “poetical” description of the area through the individual specification often constants (named the “trade mark” of Maremma); a brief analysis of the territorial pattern from a socio-economic point of view; the subdivision of the province into seven territorial networks (the seven “towns” of Maremma); a brief SWOT analysis of each “town”, with an indication of the key policies and projects for its improvement; two kinds of maps, illustrating for the whole province and for each “town” the proposals for development and activities, tourism and environment; and a set of elementary sketches (some of them look almost like cartoons), accompanied by short notes illustrating the “structural projects” shown in the maps.

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The role of planners The whole plan was conceived and drawn up by two professionals, Stefano Chieffi, the planner in charge, and his consultant,8 in collaboration with a planner from the region. Seven more consultants collaborated in specific areas of work: environment, regulations, development planning, historical research, transportation, infrastructure and water resources. A staff of about 30 people contributed to the graphic representation of the plan. This Schema Strutturale was coordinated with three other similar exercises by a planner from the region, and the transportation policy was supervised by one of his colleagues. At the level of the province, the coordination was affected by a sector manager and a manager of the province’s planning bureau. This staff did not change over time, although some of the sector consultants followed each other in turn. The staffing of the new Piano Territoriale di Coordinamento is a little less complex, but the people involved are more or less the same. The plan-making method adopted for the 1990 Schema Strutturale per la Provincia di Grosseto required radically different skills from those previously employed in making plans at this scale. Not only were design skills joined to planning skills, but a special attitude to listening and interpreting the local authorities’ views and needs had to be acquired. Indeed, some communes were so small and remote that even their mayors had cultural limits that conditioned their capacity to understand innovation. The plan-makers tried to create their own vision of how the area should develop in a way that could find support from such local people and be communicated so that all the citizens could be attached to it. It is important to state that the plan was produced by plan-makers who already had a deep knowledge of the area. Indeed, they had been chosen because they had recently finished a huge study on the relationships between the main transportation infrastructure crossing the province (the national road n. 1 Aurelia) and its surroundings (Chieffi & Vignozzi 1988). This is a favourable condition that does not often occur in Italy. Its implications for plan-making methods are very important, because the plan-makers could use much of their time on processes for building consensus, instead of study ing, for example, the environmental framework or the demographic trends. Consequences Institutional relations It is not easy to assess the extent to which this planning exercise represents an important break in institutional relations in the experience of the Schemi Strutturali in Tuscany, and more generally, of the regional plans in Italy. It must be borne in mind that, in Italy, there is a very weak tradition as regards participation and consensus-building in such plans. When this plan-making exercise is compared with similar plans in some other countries, then the innovation represented by this regional plan is not so apparent. Nevertheless, for Tuscany and Italy, the innovation and what it could herald for institutional relations are noteworthy. 8. The author of this paper.

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Other important fields of influence were the interactions between different planning and administrative levels and the ways of implementation. However, in terms of institutional learning, this plan has not become a model outside Tuscany, because the whole experience of the Schemi Strutturali was stopped before it could be adequately disseminated. The expectations of the planners are now centred on the new Piano Territoriale di Coordinamento. Policy outcomes The consequences of this plan for policy outcomes cannot be easily evaluated, in as much as it has not come into force. Taking this into account, the plan-makers consider the influence of the plan as quite satisfactory. The main ideas of the Schema Strutturale were strongly supported by many of the actors involved, and immediate evidence of this influence followed the publication of the preliminary plan. There was commitment to many of the ideas and the implementation of regional policies. The development of tourist harbours received an impetus, and several initiatives from the local authorities began to tune in with the Schema Strutturale proposals, creating widespread expectations. But, as time went by, the absence of legally binding documents made this influence weaker and weaker, although the region did not definitely declare its intention to drop this plan until the Piano Territoriale di Coordinamento was announced. The early diffusion and the strong consensus about the main ideas of the Schema Strutturale seemed to be a consequence both of the strong demand for planning ideas in a traditionally neglected area and of the effort to make these ideas easily understood and remembered. It was mostly the small communes of the hinterland, whose interpretation of the local environment and whose need for intervention had been systematically translated into specific policies, who were impressed by, and attached to, the planning proposals. It must also be borne in mind that some of the proposed policies were distributive. After some years there were fewer expectations about such policies, but the planning frame and, most of all, the description-interpretation of the area and its subdivision into subareas are often still to be found in local debate as a shared basis for any further consideration. The new Piano Territoriale di Coordinamento is now stirring up these expectations again and it aims at bringing them into effect. Learning new methods The plan-makers sought to change several aspects of traditional planning methods to make this exercise work better. The most important of these changes concerns the graphic contents of the plan as described above. If we look at other provisional Schemi Strutturali produced by the Regione Toscana, some of them look like a local plan at an enlarged scale. In their directions there is almost no reference to specific projects or further processes to be activated when the opportunities demand them (De Luca 1991). Their zoning maps tend to show the future shape of the territory in a very definite way, as if they were projects, the implementation of which is all but certain. On the contrary, in Italy, there is always a great distance between planning proposals and implementation (Vignozzi 1994, Healey 1995), especially with structure planning.

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Instead, the Schema Strutturale per la Provincia di Grosseto looks like a notebook with sketches that are no more precisely defined than the implementation processes they seek to start. On the other hand, some details (e.g. road sections) are very precisely specified, not as a basis for compulsory documents, but to let everyone understand and judge the expected results of each policy. Also, in this plan there are many more projects, ideas and proposals than in any other similar plan. The plan-makers considered that only some of these proposals would come into effect, as their implementation depended on decisions to be made after the plan was finished. This innovative approach is the result of a long struggle between the plan-makers and some of the region’s bureaucrats, who insisted on the necessity of a traditional zoning map to be drawn up at a much smaller scale than the one eventually adopted (1:10000 and 1:25000 instead of 1:50000 and 1:100000). On the other hand, the plan-makers demonstrated the utility of occasional large-scale representations to give more concrete hints of the proposed transformations. The driving forces of innovation The main factors The driving force that influenced the form of the plan-making effort was the need for the Regione Toscana to leave an important mark of its planning capability in a formerly neglected area. Indeed, the political consensus of the local administrations and citizens was becoming weaker and weaker, and the ruling coalition ran the risk of losing its majority. However, the most relevant aspects of the approach are attributable to the fact that both the planning team in charge, and the politician who fostered and supported the plan-making effort, wanted to make a considerable change to planning in the Regione Toscana. By introducing a new planning style, the Assessore not only sought to achieve better conditions for the province where he was to be elected. In the event of the success of the operation, he sought to be accepted as the leader of an authoritative group who would continue to influence regional management in a process of intense institutional evolution. In a wider context The whole experience of the plan-making cannot be understood correctly if we do not consider the influence of external actors and forces, some of which had an important role in determining the conditions for innovation. It must not be forgotten, for instance, that one of the most important inputs for plan-making was the need to decide whether or not to build the local stretch of the A12 (the only missing link in the coastal highway system from Spain to Sicily). The Società Autostrade Tirreniche (SAT) was lobbying intensely to foster its project. The regional government was well disposed to accept it, but it needed the assent of local authorities to be sure there would be no attacks by the “green” movement. This kind of assent was closely connected to the success of the Schema Strutturale, which the local authorities felt was an important signal of concern by the regional government. So, the SAT managers themselves had a deep interest in plan-making, not only because it was to

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decide on their proposals, but also because its success would ensure agreement with their scheme. However, all the planning efforts ended in a failure in this respect, as the region did not dare to take the whole responsibility for deciding such a controversy. Searching for consensus seemed to be the most important task for all the politicians involved, and the fear of an unpopular choice prevailed against the will to achieve the best solution. So, the plan had to show two different solutions instead of the firm direction that the planners would have preferred to give. This uncertainty is not rare in the experience of Schemi Strutturali. The plan for Florence-Prato-Pistoia showed three different locations for the metropolitan airport. But the main failure of the plan is the fact that it did not come into force soon after its preparation. All the Schemi Strutturali are to be replaced by the Piani Territoriali di Coordinamento after only a few years. But the Grosseto Schema Strutturale could have come into force soon after the Florence one if only the Assessore in the region had kept his place in the regional government. Instead, he was replaced after the elections (won, it should be noted, by the same coalition) by a member of another party who had quite different interests and aims. The only reason for such a replacement was the need to balance the importance of the offices between the two parties of the same coalition. The moral of the story could be that, if Italian planning practice is not able to become less vulnerable to arbitrary swings of political power, any attempt at innovation seems to be prejudged to fail. But this is too complex an issue to be considered here. References and further reading Ascher, F. 1992. Urbanistica e management delle città: nuovi approcci alla pianificazione urbana. Territorio 11, 7–20. Astengo, G. (ed.) 1990. Schema Strutturale per l’area metropolitana Firenze-Prato-Pistoia. Florence: Regione Toscana. Bryson, J. 1989. Strategic planning for public and nonprofit organizations. San Francisco: JosseyBass. Chieffi, S. & A.Vignozzi 1988. Tra Grosseto e Capalbio. Dossier Aurelia. Florence: RISMA. De Luca, G. (ed.) 1991. La pianificazione regionale in Toscana: 1984–1990 [Quaderni di Urbanistica Informazioni 10]. Rome: Istituto Nazionale d’Urbanismo. Dematteis, G. 1988. La scomposizione metropolitana. In Le città del mondo e il futuro delle metropoli, L.Mazza (ed.), 184–8. Milan: Electa. Gibelli, M.C. 1993. La crisi del piano fra logica sinottica e logica incrementalista: il contribute dello strategic planning. In Innovazione e trasformazioni della città: teorie, metodi e programmi per il mutamento, S.Lombardo & G.Preto (ed.), 207–239. Milan: Franco Angeli. Gorgels, D.1992. Action-oriented urban planning. Paper for AESOP Congress, Stockholm, June. Healey, P.1995. Le renouvellement des politiques urbanes spatialisées en Europe, In Schema directeur et project d’agglomeration, A.Motte (ed.), 131–44. Paris: Juris Service. Lange, M.A. de 1992. Use-oriented research as a basis for evaluation of strategic planning policy. Paper for AESOP Congress, Stockholm, June. Mazza, L. 1993. Descrizione e previsione. In Innovazione e trasformazioni della città: teorie, metodi e programmi per il mutamento, S.Lombardo & G.Preto (ed.), 181–96. Milan: Franco Angeli. Secchi, B. 1987. Piani di area vasta. Casabella 538, 16–17.

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Törnqvist, A. 1992. Quality in planning: the influence of legal rules on creative interaction in the planning and building design process. Paper for AESOP Congress, Stockholm, June. Vignozzi, A. 1989. L’ambiente intorno all’Aurelia fra Grosseto e il Lazio: note per la progettazione della viabilità. Florence: RISMA. Vignozzi, A. 1994. Development plan-making and aesthetic quality in Italy: main features and directions for change. In Trends in development plan making in European planning systems, P.Healey (ed.), 143–57. Working Paper, Department of Town and Country Planning, University of Newcastle. Williams, G. 1992. Local authorities as strategic enablers—the role of unitary development plans in metropolitan areas. Paper for AESOP Congress, Stockholm, June.

PART III

CHAPTER THIRTEEN The institutional relations of plan-making Alain Motte Introduction Comparing planning systems The aim of this chapter is to present a comparative analysis of the key features of institutional innovation in plan-making in Europe. The emphasis is on the processes of elaboration of spatial strategies at the end of the 1980s and beginning of the 1990s. Three main issues were identified in Chapter 2 as particularly important. They were: • Have new forums and arenas been created from which new strategies have been elaborated? • Have new ways of thinking about the important issues emerged? • How has expertise been used and, more particularly, how has the role of people qualified as “planners” been defined? To answer these fundamental questions, it is necessary at first to clarify three major points. Are we comparing the “ordinary” processes of spatial planning systems? What is being called institutional innovation? In what terms could these innovations enlighten our knowledge concerning the main trends in the evolution of European spatial planning systems? Are we comparing the “ordinary” development processes of spatial planning systems? This first question needs to be preceded by another question: What do we call a “spatial planning system”? The answer is one of the main issues in this book and has already been discussed in Chapter 2, but we would like to emphasize some points again. A “system” is “the patterning of social relations across time and space, understood as reproduced practices” (Giddens 1984:377). Each European nation-state has a specific spatial planning system, that is, specific “social practices ordered across space and time” (ibid.: 2) that have the built environment as their object.1 This planning system is part of the social system2 of each nation-state. The diversity of these institutional systems is clearly very large in Europe. 1. Its major function is the regulation of land use change and development, that is the change in built environment. 2. Social systems have for Giddens three structural dimensions: signification (Symbolic orders), domination (political institutions, economic institutions) and legitimization (legal institutions).

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It is also evident that they have changed during the 1980s, with many changes in terms of legal procedures if not in planning practices. A comparison of the functioning of the systems as undertaken by the Compendium of planning systems (CEC forthcoming), runs the risk of being static, as it is realized at a precise time in the evolution of the systems. The most interesting issue is to try to understand the dynamics of these institutional systems. The present book offers another way to investigate and look at the striking issues listed above. The accent is on understanding the way the different systems are functioning and how they are being transformed by the global evolution of European countries. Both the case studies and the comparative approach are defined in order to identify the innovations emerging in the institutional processes. This has been done in order to underline the driving forces of the current evolution, and the way these might influence the transformation of the various systems. But what is an “institutional innovation”? For instance, is there innovation as soon as planning practices in the case studies occur outside the formal legalinstitutional context? At first, this question is probably unexpected. However, the observation of practices outlines that the legal institutions3 can very easily not be applied. In some cases, they could also be dominated by parallel unofficial processes that are part of the political institutions of a nation-state. Furthermore, could the reform of a legal system be considered as an innovation in itself? The answer is likely to be negative, especially when it does not lead to the emergence of new practices allowing a better adaptation to the evolution of the local context. Could the use of the legal framework in a different way from that of previous periods also be called an innovation?4 Generally, we anticipated that the legal and administrative rules would be very carefully observed in the western European context (based on democratic systems) and the processes would be formally organized by legal procedures.5 Innovation will therefore be defined as the creation of new tools and new organizations in order to facilitate new sociospatial practices. Innovation will refer as well to the creation of new development processes, allowing the public sphere6 to adapt to the evolution of the context. There will then be innovation in the following cases: • When a new legal system is experienced and applied in practice (Portugal, Switzerland, France, Spain, Sweden) • When a legal system is applied differently than from the past (the Netherlands, Denmark, England, Italy). • When new tools or new organizations are created to envelop the legal system and gave it more efficiency (Portugal, France, Norway). At this stage, it is necessary to think about the third fundamental point. To what extent 3. Legal spatial planning institutions could be defined by law or by administrative regulation. In France for example the first mode is dominant. In England procedures are barely defined by law. Most is in administrative regulation. In most cases administrative procedures provide a formal set of rules aimed at providing some legitimacy and accountability to state actions. 4. The criteria of adaptation to a changing context. 5. The functioning mode of the “arenas” could be of course very different from one system to another. 6. Hypothesis of political guidance of societal transformations by the public sphere.

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could these innovations develop our knowledge of the main trends concerning the evolution of spatial planning systems in Europe? These systems are very diverse, in both time and space. The history of their evolution is, at least in appearance, very different. A more systematic method to explore this specific issue is to take into account simultaneously the main characteristics of the European systems. But how can we compare the dynamics of the systems? Changes are happening in each system, and at various rates. How can we compare the evolution of the institutional systems with each other? Is there convergence or divergence between them? Convergence or divergence: three hypotheses Three exploratory hypotheses could be constructed to offer an answer to those questions. The first hypothesis focuses on the heterogeneity of the social and spatial planning systems of European countries. Is this heterogeneity so significant that there are no commonalities between the systems and indeed no possibility of convergence or divergence? This is a common view, which draws on wider premises about the uniqueness of existence and of individuality. The case studies indicate an opposite situation, namely that there are many common elements in both spatial planning practices (e.g. plan elaboration, rule definitions,…) and in the social systems (e.g. democratic regimes, specific organizations,…). A second hypothesis concerns the convergence of European spatial planning systems during and after the Second World War period (from the 1940s to the late 1960s). The convergence built in this period was linked not only to economic forces (economic growth within the Fordist system of regulation) but also to the social consensus that emerged from the Second World War in the form of welfare states, and it impacted in many ways on the building of spatial planning systems. This gives rise to a third hypothesis about the transformation of spatial planning systems in European countries during the 1980s and 1990s. Are they divergent or convergent? It was suggested in Chapters 1 and 2 that we were in a period of transition in terms of urban and regional dynamics and urban governance. Is this being accompanied by parallel changes in planning systems and is this producing a new system, a new “paradigm” (Innes 1995)? Is there a new convergence? To examine these hypotheses, on the basis of the case studies, we need a scheme of interpretation of the functioning of the main elements of spatial planning systems in order to understand and compare these institutional systems of spatial planning in Europe; it will then be possible to examine the characteristics of the possible evolution of these institutional systems from the innovations we observe in different European contexts. Many elements of this convergence are already working and have been incorporated into the legal systems of some countries. Other elements will never appear in some countries because their cultures make such evolution impossible. It should be remembered that the systems used until the end of the 1960s and the beginning of the 1970s were aimed at encouraging economic growth and promoting a better distribution of the benefits of growth, especially by organizing the pattern of urban growth. This system was questioned during the 1970s when economic development was experiencing profound change and new forms of political regulation were appearing. The new economic policy system emerging in many countries amis mainly at solving

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unemployment by the creation of companies.7 There is in particular an evolution from “allocative” planning to “developmental” planning. The development of the new system is not mechanical. It depends on the institutions of each social system and could be slowed down by the institutional arrangements elaborated within the previous system. Within what frame of reference may these systems and their evolution be interpreted? Agents, relationships and “referents” The scheme of interpretation chosen is a grouping of three sets of complementary elements or characteristics8 of spatial planning systems. Spatial planning practices have a wide diversity, as they are part of the institutions of different nation-states. Besides the apparent commonalities of these practices, for example the use of plans, what we want to identify are the properties that structure them. In our interpretation scheme we focus on these properties. First, the planning practices of the European countries can be compared according to agents organized within systems. Secondly, the agents can be considered in terms of the nature of the agents’ relationships. Thirdly, the designation of the agents within one system, and their relationships, are the results of principles or “referents”. These are the ways of thinking, or social constructs, that are mobilized within planning practices. The specific challenge of our approach is to identify those referents, agents and relations. It is necessary to understand not only the characteristics of the systems used up to the 1960s and 1970s, but also their evolution in the 1980s, 1990s and into the future. According to our hypothesis, the institutional systems of spatial planning reached stability in the period after the Second World War (from the late 1940s to the late 1960s). This could be interpreted also as the progressive installation of common features in the relationships among agents of these systems. Agents and relationships were able to reach stable processes because they drew on common “referents”. A “referent”9 is: …a dominant image of the sector10…. It is neither entirely rational,11 nor entirely arbitrary. It is built: it is a social image of the sector. (Jobert & Muller 1987:68) The referents shape the “designation” by the social system of the agents who get involved in planning practices and outline the meaning of their action and the nature of their relationships. These designations and meanings are then routinely consolidated and reproduced in the continuing planning practices in the systems (see Table 13.1). 7. With minimization of the social and environmental consequences of this economic priority. 8. The comparative method used is this chapter is borrowed from Boyer & Durand (1993). The characteristics have not been defined to summarize all the elements of spatial planning systems but only those that we consider as fundamental. 9. Stretching across time and space (Giddens 1984:377) in each planning system. 10. The hypothesis is that the spatial planning system is a sector of the state, and its purpose is to coordinate other public sectors through territorial organization. 11. “It is not rational because it depends first on the dominant social groups perception of the sector …It is not completely arbitrary, because it must take into account, at least a part, of the social groups which are in the sector. The problem is to organize the leadership of a specific social category over the whole sector” (Jobert & Muller 1987:68–9).

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Table 13.1 Comparison of the referents. Agents A1 A2 A3 A4

One dominant public agent (generally technicians) Powerful and autonomous public sectors One dominant territorial level within the public sphere Few private agents

Agents’ relations AR1 Technical relations are dominant AR2 Closed sectors (culture of conflict between technical sectors) AR3 Administrative and financial domination of the territorial levels in the public sphere AR4 Citizens and businesses have limited relations with the public agents

R1 R2 R3 R4

Referents To rationalize the decision-making procedures of the public sphere To separate the conception from the implementation (rigidity of the implementation) Priority given to the built environment (allocative planning) Public sphere as the only legitimate one

The scheme of interpretation proposes that four referents are at the root of post-war planning systems. The first one is the rationalization of the public decision-making procedures of the public sphere (R1). The second is the separation of conception from implementation in the building of the plan (R2). It was considered that implementation was not a problem so long as the plan was well elaborated. The third element is the priority given to the built environment (R3) within an “allocative” approach. Finally, the public sphere (R4) was assumed to act as a neutral articulator of the collective interest of the society, and as such was the legitimate agent. The referents are attached to broader representations referring to society12 as a whole. They “designate” the agents of the public sphere as main agents. Within the public sphere, technical staff (A1) constitute the dominant group because of their knowledge13 and skills, on the basis of the faith in their capacity to solve, by their expertise, the problems of society. A very strong “sectoralization”14(A2) of the state corresponds to this dominant group, with an extensive use of technical norms. The planning system is usually organized and based on a powerful main public level (A3) (this was the central level in France, the central and local level in England, the regional level in Germany) with a clear separation between the public and private spheres. There are few private agents in the planning processes (A4). 12. Jobert & Muller proposing the concepts of “global referent” and of “sector / global” referent. 13. See the discussion on policy analysis in Friedmann (1987:78–81). 14. Public policy sectors are directly linked to specific social groups in the social systems. They are “open” to parts of the society and “closed” to other sectors. “Sectors” refers to the organization of the public sphere and “function” to the organization of space or territory.

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According to the relationships between agents, the “translation” of the referents gives priority to technical relationships (AR1) “technocratizing” social debate about social problems. The powerful sectoralization (A2) of public systems creates important conflicts between sectors. Indeed, an autonomous logic results from their closeness (AR2) within the public sphere. Regulations in the public sphere are made mainly with financial and administrative rules enunciated by the dominant level (AR3). Citizens and enterprises have few direct relations (AR4) with the public sphere concerning the elaboration of plans. This definition of the planning systems’ characteristics is not intended to represent a unique image of all European systems. It aims instead to propose an hypothesis concerning trends in their processes. The characteristics have been used to build an “ideal type”. Obviously, no system can correspond entirely to all the characteristics. To some extent, the characteristics exist within the structure15 of these systems. The concrete situations can move aside from one element during one period, but they can also converge towards the same element during another period.16 Therefore, the hypothesis outlined above can be approached through three dif- ferent groups of questions: • How have the referents that drive the process of the planning systems changed? • Who are the agents involved in the planning process? Have new agents appeared in the process? Who are the dominant agents? • What are the relationships between agents? How are they organized (forums, arenas, courts)? In order to describe the evolution of these relationships, this chapter will focus on the analysis of these three issues in order to outline the institutional innovations that are creating a new structure of institutional relations for European systems. The analysis is based on the case studies. To understand the main characteristics of this new structure, it is necessary (in each case) to think about the characteristics of the institutional system previously developed in the 1950s and 1960s in most European countries. We will mainly focus on understanding the way planning is realized in each different context. At the end of the chapter, we will propose some remarks on the main evolutionary features that have been taking place since the 1980s. Innovations and the evolution of the referents How have the referents that identify the transformation of spatial planning systems during the 1960s and 1990s changed? Four main referents of the institutional systems have been proposed: • the nature of decision-making procedures and processes • the modes of planning and the relation of the plan to implementation 15. ‘…a virtual order of ‘modes of structuring’ recursively implicated in such reproduction [of situated practices]” (Giddens 1984:17). 16. The example of characteristic AR4 in Nordic countries illustrates this point.

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• the policy priorities and • the legitimacy of the public sphere. Table 13.2 shows the evolution of these referents and Table 13.3 compares them across the cases.

Table 13.2 The evolution of the referents. Referents R1 R2 R3 R4

To rationalize the decision-making procedures of the public sphere To separate the conception from the implementation (rigidity of the implementation) Priority given to the built environment (allocative planning) Public sphere as the only legitimate one

Referents R1' To rationalize the decision-making processes of the social system R2' To integrate the elaboration and the implementation (flexibility of implementation) R3' Priority given to the economic and social challenges (developmental planning) R4' Legitimacy shared between the public and private spheres (citizens, businesses)

The nature of decision-making procedures and processes The systems that emerged during the post-war period are dominated by one obsession, to organize the development procedures of the public sphere from a rational point of view, and, more particularly, the planning procedures. Planning, especially spatial planning, was very rationally designed in some countries such as France, the UK, Germany and the Netherlands. In these countries, the referent was a belief in a rational organization of the state as a way of solving problems and sustaining the development of society. Therefore, the first capacity or the priority of the post-war systems was rationalization, and above all concentration on public decision-making procedures (R1). The systems emerging during the 1980s have been built in a way that is much more open to society (see Table 13.2). They have been integrating new forces and welcoming new actors. The main evolution has been towards a rationalization of the decision-making processes (R1')- The consequence has been an integration of the actors located outside the public sphere in the decision-making processes. The shift in emphasis of the rationalization has then been from procedures to processes and from the public sphere to society. This characteristic emerged early in some systems (Zürich, Hordaland, Marks Kommun, Friesland, Ørestad). However, it is now in the process of development in other innovative situations (Lisbon, Lyon, Grosseto). The case of Lisbon is of particular interest from this point of view. Indeed, the process used to be dominated by the nationstate level. This domination was described as bureaucratic. The new procedures aim to create a modem, local power, and they integrate an impressive number of new actors. This should allow planning to be more responsive to the interests of the different social groups represented in the city. Indeed, the local public sphere could deal with the main issues at stake for the city (transport, economic degradation, population decline). The evolution is slow in some cases, such as Madrid, where the processes are mainly within the public sphere. In Lyon, there is a restricted opening of the elaboration process outside

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Table 13.3 Comparison of the referents. Zürich R1' + + The aim is to take into account both population and businesses in the decisionmaking process R2' + + Plan is elaborated by interpreting the parameters of implementation R3' + The economic issue is important

Lancashire ++ Creation of new arenas (NWBLT, NWRA) and forums (environment) for policy debates. To build local and regional alliances + The plan is revisable every five years and is very flexible

Lyon 0 Restricted opening of the elaboration process beyond the politicians and planners’ worlds

+ The plan is elaborated according to a traditional conception but with the integration of “flexibilities” + The economic space is a priority ++ Emergence of a specialized target; specialized agency in economic agency (Lancashire Enterprise development (ADERLY); importance of Limited) to deal with economic the organization of the physical space issues R4' + The presence of citizens and + The legitimacy of businesses and + The public authority keeps the businesses is legitimate citizens is being developed legitimacy. Important role played by economic interests Madrid Grosseto Lisbon R1' 0 Processes are inside the + + The search for consensus and + + Creation of decentralized arenas and public sphere understanding forums to establish consensus R2' 0 The overall plan took time to 00 Plan is considered in a traditional + The search for an integration of way with separation of the funding planning levels in order to implement elaborate, therefore it is plans quickly fragmented. It procures some flexibility R3' + Priority is about the form of 00 Priority to the management of the + Economic, social and urban aspects are physical space emphasized the metropolis but economic development is important + The representatives of ++ Opening of plan-making the private interests are process and legitimacy of non-public agents accepted Ørestad Friesland Marks Kommun Hordaland + A broader participation in ++ Anticipation of the ++ Collective decision R1' 00 Pragmatically the planning process. A approval of agents whose process of planning rationalized decisioncollaborative effort making process within the do not belong to the public sphere public sphere ++ Plan implementation is ++ The plan integrates ++ Implementation of the R2' + The plan is a double included in the perspective the expected constraints structure plan is not decision (to create one mandatory. Appropriateness of plan elaboration. type of infrastructure, and concerning both Distinction between long of every building to create a new area) that implementation and construction is judged on its term strategy and actors’ requirements is going to be programme action own merits progressively detailed 0 Land use is the main focus ++ The strategic plan is ++ Priority given to R3' + Priority given to mainly economic social and economic medium and long term development in the economic development medium and long term ++ The planning steering R4' 0 Only public authority is + The legitimacy of the ++ Legitimacy of the public authority is shared citizens to be participating in group includes trade unions legitimate. Late and business representatives the plan-making process democratic dialogue Case studies are showing a tendency towards the feature specified. ++ High convergence + Medium-weak convergence 0 Medium-weak divergence 00 High divergence R4' 00 Public authority is legitimate

the world of politicians and planners. The most interesting evolution is the Ørestad case, which shows an apparently completely reversed situation. The decision-making process is pragmatically rationalized within the highest sphere of the state.

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The modes of planning In the post-war systems, the modes of plan elaboration and implementation were dominated by the implicit idea that a “good” plan will necessarily be followed by action in line with the plan. There should be no barrier to the implementation17 of the efficient plan. Indeed, it was the application of an optimal design. The underlying belief was that social problems would be resolved by technical18 progress. In this mode of planning, the plan’s role was as a set of possible decisions, to guide the institutional processes of public policy actions. However, the conception of an automatic passage from the designed plan to the applied plan was progressively questioned by the implementation processes of plans. Indeed, many plans were difficult or even impossible to apply. The time taken to elaborate the plan was too long, so that data on which the plan was designed, and even ways of thinking about society, had changed by the time implementation was reached. Therefore, in the new mode, plans have come to incorporate the idea of implementation as a stage of their development process which leads to concrete actions. The cases of Marks Kommun (Sweden), Hordaland (Norway) and Zürich (Switzerland) are very representative of these tendencies towards making the plan flexible in order to integrate both elaboration and implementation stages. In Zürich, for example, the plan is elaborated by interpreting the parameters of implementation. To some extent, the case of Marks Kommun is more innovative than in Friesland. As the structure plan is dependent during the implementation stage on the willingness of agents outside the agency, it has to integrate this willingness to act at the elaboration stage. In some cases also (the Lancashire case is typical of this situation), the national rules allow each development permit to be judged according to its “own merits”. This offers flexibility too. The priorities of spatial planning In the original post-war planning systems, the dominant belief was the possibility of reforming the society by reorganizing physical space. Allocative planning was the solution through which to compensate for the inequalities of market functioning. It was also a way for the public sphere to consider the locational requirements of all social groups and to coordinate public policies. This concept led to a profound planning crisis when the state was not able to give coherent or legitimate solutions to the conflicts among the social groups with stakes in these spaces. The limits of public policy integration through physical space emerged. The development of structural unemployment in many European countries during the 1980s and 1990s were another indication of the need to change policy priorities. These changes deeply modified the priorities given to planning. The new priorities that have been adopted are economic and social ones. The importance given to the economic dimension can be identified in most of the cases investigated. It furthermore shows the creation of specialized economic agencies as in the cases of Lancashire (Lancashire Enterprise Limited) and Lyon (ADERLY). As far 17. That is, if the real objective is implementing the plan. There is a strong possibility that policies are symbolic only. 18. Following the policy analysis tradition (Friedmann 1987:78).

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as the cases of Ørestad (Denmark) and Hordaland (Norway) are concerned, they show that planning can become entirely dominated by economic priorities. However, this priority is in some cases limited by environmental ones. The latter are becoming increasingly important in many contexts (Lancashire, Lisbon). The legitimacy19 of the agents The procedures of European policy systems in the post-war period were founded on the legitimacy of public agents. The public authority had to rebuild the countries and was in charge of a return to economic growth. The Keynesian mode of regulation brought full employment and that was said to be attributable to the intervention of the state. The increasing unemployment from the 1970s, the questioning of the welfare state and the growing neoliberalism of the 1980s has reduced the legitimacy of public agents to the profit of citizens and firms. The Lancashire case is one of the most striking examples of this evolution. The involvement of firms in planning policy formulation had been strongly emerging as legitimate by the end of the 1980s and beginning of the 1990s. The cases of Hordaland (Norway) and Lyon (France) also show a similar evolution. In Hordaland the planning steering group included trade unions and business representatives. In Lyon, economic interests have played an important role in the formulation of the plan strategy. In Lisbon, too, there has been an opening of the plan-making processes to private agents, and a legitimacy given to that involvement. The innovations related to the agents20 Who are the agents participating in these planning processes? Have new agents been taken into consideration? Who are the dominant agents? The institutional procedures have been developed through a broader integration of agents. New agents appeared in the institutional systems during the 1980s and 1990s and they are playing an important role. A dispersion of the agents can be identified, in recognition that the systems have been modified to respond to a very deep change in the context. Therefore, the spectrum of the agents taking part in the planmaking decision process has been enlarged. This evolution could even lead to paralysis in the functioning of the spatial planning systems, when the expansion in decision agents goes too far. The organization21 of the systems is thus becoming more complex. Table 13.4 shows the changes in agents involved in planning systems and Table 13.5 compares the different cases. 19. Legally legitimate or in conformity with law (Giddens 1984:31). 20. We use “actor” and “agent” as equivalent. “Actor” derives from organization theory which is not our perspective. The word “agent” will be used in the Giddensian perspective, even if himself does not make a strong distinction between the two terms (1984:33). Agent will mean in this chapter collective agents who are constructing innovative actions but who are also constrained by the structure of their system. 21. The word “organization” has here a very neutral meaning and emphasizes the fundamental agents of the planning systems.

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Table 13.4 Comparison of the agents. Agents A1 A2 A3 A4

One dominant public agent (generally technicians) Powerful and autonomous public sectors One dominant territorial level within the public sphere Few private agents

Agents A1' No dominant public agent A2' Open public sectors A3' Dependent territorial administrative levels A4' Many private agents

The dominant agents The implementation of the 1960s planning systems was accompanied by the creation of specific bodies or even national government departments, with specialized civil servants. The English case illustrates the implementation of such a highly qualified administration at county level. Also, in the French case, the implementation of a specific ministry (the Ministère de l’Equipement) during the 1960s was followed by the development of professionally trained technical staff. The developing trend during the 1980s accorded more importance to another agent, the local politician. The involvement of this agent substitutes a political approach to social problems for a technical approach. This move obliged the technical staff to rethink their relationships with local politicians and to issues about the society. A close link has been established between the politicians and technical staff in many circumstances. This leads to the disappearance of the planner as the unique agent dominating planning processes. The development of the role of the politicians is perceptible in many case studies. In Lancashire the planners were traditionally dominant. Politicians and interest groups have strongly risen in influence and power. In Lyon, local mayors have a fundamental role, even if the planners of the local planning agency still have an important influence. In the Ørestad case, the decision process is intertwining planners and politicians. The case of Hordaland (Norway) illustrates a collaborative process in elaborating the plan, but with a reversal of the traditional situation as the planners have only written down the decisions of the stakeholders. In this case, the institutional process is integrating the stakeholders. However, in most of the cases, we witness a stabilization of the relations between politicians and technical staff.

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Table 13.5 Comparison of the agents. Zürich A1′ + Politicians and planners control the processes

Lyon + Local councillors have a fundamental role. The local planners have a very strong influence A2′ + Public sectors are more opened + Strong public sectorization is + The sector-based logic is because of constraints reducing to integrate different sectors slowing down A3′ + The territorial administrative 0 The territorial levels are dependent ++ The territorial levels are levels are linked but the county has but central government has taken dependent from one another an important role more and more importance A4′ ++ Private agents are linked to the ++ Businesses, developers and + The private agents are planning process citizens are strongly linked to the consulted in the decisionprocess making process Madrid Grosseto Lisbon A1′ + Planners are very influential 0 Professional actor dominant. Strong + Politicians and planners are (partnership with politicians) presence of a regional political head dominant but in a perspective opened to other actors A2′ 00 Public sectorization remains 00 The plan aims to take into account + New flexibility inside the important the main sectors. However, the municipal administrative sectorization remains strong organization (autonomy of finance) A3′ 00 Regional government is + Regions and communes are ++ The territorial scales are dominant in the processes interdependently integrated. Is the interdependent province emerging in the PTC? A4′ + New stakeholders (local + Private interests are informally + The private agents politicians, planners), opening up to linked to the planning process participate in the process with a limited participation to key an informal status economic interests and groups Ørestad A1′ + Joint decision between planners and politicians

Lancashire ++ Planners traditionally dominant; politicians and interest groups strongly risen in influence and power

Marks Kommun + Municipality is dominant but some power has been retained by the central government A2′ + The public sectorization is ++ The public sectors are ++ Public sectors are being reduced because of integrated by the plan logic open to coordination the logic of the project of activities in the plan integrating transport and urban issues A3′ + Shared game between the + Strategic plan has to + Links between central government and the shape the elaboration of national, regional and municipality of Copenhagen local plans in order to be local levels implemented. National level is dependent A4′ 0 Environmental groups are 0 The private agents are + Private agents are taken into account at a late not participating very participating in planstage much in the planning making process ++ High convergence + Medium—weak convergence 0 Medium—weak divergence 00 High divergence

Friesland 00 Planners are dominant as long as they are able to integrate the needs of other actors

Hordaland ++ Collaborative process in elaborating the plan. The planners write down decisions of the stakeholders 00 Public sectorization remains important

+ Conflicts between county strategic Plan and Kommune Plan

+ The larger process group consisted of representatives of the public and private sectors in the county Case studies are showing a tendency towards the feature specified.

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Functional division in public administration The rationalization of the 1960s led to a strong division into separate policy functions in the systems of public administration. This produced a vertical logic of decision-making, limiting horizontal links between sectors. The necessity for a greater integration of the sectors, linked to the changes in the aims and priorities of planning, has been appearing since the 1960s. The priority given to space in planning documents must be understood precisely as one of the tools to reach this coordination among sectors. The 1980s priorities slowed the dominance of the sectors down. Indeed, the new priorities for economic and social action often require a reinforced coordination of public interventions across space, and in some cases this leads to a reassertion of spatiality. The case of Lancashire (England), Zürich (Switzerland), Lyon (France) and Ørestad (Denmark) illustrate the beginning of this slowing down of the sectorbased logic in order to face the problems of economic decline efficiently. The cases of Friesland (The Netherlands) and Marks Kornmun (Sweden) underline very well how planning can integrate sector-based approaches: in Friesland, the public sectors are integrated by the new spatial logics of the plan; in Marks Kommun, the public sector departments are open to coordination of their own activities within the plan, including again spatial coordination. The number of territorial levels In the 1950s and 1960s, the systems of spatial planning were based on a primary administrative level that dominated and coordinated the other public agents. In some cases, the local level played this role (Denmark and The Netherlands), and in other cases the same role was discharged by the regional scale (Germany, Switzerland) or the national scale (France, Spain, Portugal). In the 1970s and 1980s, the systems have been moving towards greater complexity in the public agents involved. There has been an increasing intervention of all territorial levels. Different case studies show the innovations that are developing in this direction. The more interesting cases concern the southern European countries, such as Italy or Portugal. In the case of Grosseto (Italy), the process of elaboration of the plan has led to the integration of the communes in the same province into an intense communication with the region. This is realized even if this effort did not lead to consideration of the elaborated schemes. The case of Lisbon is also very significant, because of the interdependence between the different territorial levels. The Ørestad case shows a shared game between national government and the municipality of Copenhagen. In Friesland, the strategic plan has to shape the elaboration of local plans in order to be implemented. All levels are dependent on each other, including the national level. How could this evolution be explained? Is it the consequence of the evolution of the resource base of the different territorial levels? Is it corresponding to the necessity of an overall public strategy by all public authorities in order to adapt to the economic and social challenges of the 1980s and 1990s?

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The number of private agents The number of private agents (citizens, businesses, associations supporting various interests, developers) increases progressively in the planning processes of many systems. The presence of these agents underlines the opening out of planning systems, even if it is still sometimes limited. In the cases of Zürich and Lancashire, the evolution is particularly obvious. In Zürich, private agents are actively involved within the planning process. In Lancashire, businesses, developers and citizens are strongly included in the debates. A similar evolution is identified in many of the cases investigated—Lyon, Grosseto, Lisbon and Madrid. In Lyon, private agents were consulted in the plan-making process. In Grosseto and Lisbon the private agents were informally associated. The Madrid case shows an opening up of opportunities to participate in key economic interests and groups. The exceptions are the cases of Ørestad and Friesland, in which there is an apparent reversal of an opening out situation. The innovations related to the relationships among agents The evolution of the referents used by the agents, together with the increase in the number of agents involved in spatial planning processes, has added to the complexity of most European spatial planning systems during the 1980s and the 1990s. What is the evolution in the nature of their relationships? How have the relationships among agents been structured? One of the main issues is how the integration of levels and sectors within the institutional systems (Giddens 1984:28) is being realized. Another issue concerns the key characteristics of the relationships as regards the role of the public sector. Table 13.6 summarizes the changes in these relationships, and Table 13.7 compares them across the cases.

Table 13.6 The evolution of the agents’ relations. Agents’ relations AR1' Horizontal political and social relations are dominant AR2' Horizontal integration of the sectors through the development of a culture of superior objectives: “vision”, employment, social needs AR3' Vertical integration of the territorial levels through negotiations within the public sphere AR4' Citizens and businesses influence the elaboration of plans

The nature of dominant relations During the 1960s, the definition of spatial problems was “obvious” because of the intensity of economic growth and, in some countries, urban growth. The main problem was how to organize the growth process, to rationalize properly in order to develop. The search for solutions was mainly the task of technical staff. They were even often interfering in the definition of the problems. The dominant relationships among agents

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were of a technical character, attached to the search for the best solution. The current development illustrated in this book represents a move from a discussion about solutions towards a discussion about the issues that were considered as fundamental. This evolution has been accompanied by the introduction of new actors (AT). However, the major feature is the development of the horizontal political and social relationships among agents (ART). The agents involved in the planning process have been aiming to both identify and solve the problems of the society. This evolution is underlined in most of the case studies investigated (except for the case of Friesland). The more striking cases are found in different locations. In Zürich, the relations became political and social under pressure from civil society. Lisbon offers an extraordinary multiplicity of dialogue processes and relations dominated by political and social issues. The cases of Lyon, Lancashire, Madrid, Grosseto, Marks Kommun and Hordaland, show the growing importance of these relations. Political and social relationships are becoming crucial dimensions in the elaboration of plans. This leads to the creation of many forums and to the renewal of the way the norms and rules are built up in the arenas. The integration mode of sectors Conflictual relationships between powerful public sector departments were one of the characteristics of the planning systems of the post-war period. This feature continued into the 1980s and appeared to be a fundamental barrier to the implementation of integrated horizontal policies. The cases examined here show that, in many instances, innovation has allowed the walls of these institutional citadels to be pushed away. The major innovation to set this reversal in motion is often the mobilization around a “vision” of the future of the territory. This last point is identified in most of the cases, with the exception of Hordaland. These strong images should be thought of as “institution builders” (Neuman 1996). There are many of them: “Lyon, European metropolis”, “Copenhagen, European capital”, “Lisbon, Atlantic capital of Europe”, “Madrid, Region Metropolitana”, “Greening the Red Rose Country”. These images are very consequential in the elaboration of integrated policies. In the case of Zürich (Switzerland), the idea of “Swiss City” has allowed the integration of the evolution of the transport system and urban development. The idea of the compact city has since made some significant progress. In Grosseto, the many “images” of the possible developments of the region show the search for an integrated vision of local identity. This evolution is fundamental, both for the integration of the mode of action of the agents of the public sphere, and also as a way of articulating social groups at the local level. The “visions” serve politically and socially to legitimize the priorities of the development proposed in the plan, including allocations of land. The integration mode of territorial levels To face the logic of spatial planning, the public administration system has been restructured. It has been accompanied by a remaking of the nature of the relations between territorial levels of public administration. The relations previously dominated by

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financial and bureaucratic rules have been replaced in some systems by relations based on negotiations between levels. This evolution has been facilitated when there has been a development of the autonomy of the territorial levels, through decentralization when the systems were very centralized, or through centralization when the systems where very decentralized. The observations in the case studies are nevertheless very varied. In some cases there are only a few relations. In Hordaland, there are two separate forms of planning at the county and commune levels. However, in most cases we can observe the development of the vertical relationships between territorial levels. In Lyon, the negotiations between the territorial levels are at the heart of the planning process. In the case of Friesland, the conflicts between the different levels of government are also solved through negotiations. The Madrid case shows how formalized “agreements” between regional government and local municipalities built links between the levels. In Zürich, negotiations within the public sphere were necessary to integrate the different levels of government. The influence of private agents in the planning processes The role of the public sphere in spatial planning processes in Europe has been significantly modified since the immediate post-war period, although in a different way in each system. Some systems established formal relations with the private sphere of citizens and businesses, and others did not. We have adopted the hypothesis of a convergence during the post-war period towards a limited influence of the private sphere on plan-making, and in contrast a strong development of this influence during the 1980s and 1990s. This characteristic of contemporary plan-making processes arises because of the evolution of the contexts, and the new priorities given to planning, which have led some of the public agencies to develop a new type of relationship with the private sphere, in order to share more broadly the public difficulty in managing economic and social challenges. There has been also a legitimization of the agenda of issues of concern to the private sphere, to which the public agents have to adapt. Nevertheless, the limits of these relations in most of the case studies are a very sensitive issue. This evolution can be observed in several case studies (with the notable exception of Ørestad and Friesland), and most particularly in the cases of Zürich, Lisbon and Marks Kommun. In Zürich, citizens and business representatives influenced all the planning processes. In Lisbon, there was a participation of a very wide community. In Marks Kommun, negotiations with the business community, developers and the public have been increasingly important. In the cases of Grosseto, Lancashire, Lyon and Hordaland, the evolution is towards the characteristic (AR4') (see Table 13.7). In Hordaland, for example, there is close involvement of enterprises. In Grosseto, the wishes of citizens and businesses were taken into consideration.

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Table 13.7 Comparison of the agents’ relations. Zürich AR1' ++ Political and social relations are dominant AR2' ++ The “Swiss city” concept is used for integrating transport system and urban development AR3' ++ Negotiations within the public sphere are necessary to integrate levels of government AR4' ++ Citizens and business representatives are influencing the process of planning

Madrid AR1' + The statutory processes are being replaced with a new collaborative model AR2' ++ Images of the Gran Sur and Madrid Region Metropolitana as institutional builders

Lancashire + Growing importance of the policy discussion

Lyon + Development of horizontal relations between local councillors, and between elected representatives and citizens + The plan is trying to integrate ++ The images of “Lyons European economy, environment and Metropolis” and “agglomeration” allow transport, Image of “Greening the the integration of sector-based Red Rose Country” approaches

+ The growing importance taken by the central government and districts obliges the county to negotiate and face a hierarchic vision + The pressure group of businesses and citizens influence the plan-making process at an early stage with (in some cases) frequent appeals to semi-judicial enquiry Grosseto + Horizontal relations coordinated by the technicians are dominant ++ Search for a relation between sectors through shared “images” of the development and local identity

AR3' ++ Convenios between regional government and local municipalities are building links

+ Negotiated relations but not leading to any decision AR4' 00 The relations with citizens and + Wishes of the businesses are very limited citizens and businesses are taken into consideration Ørestad Friesland AR1′ 0 Horizontal strategic decision between 0 Political and politicians and technicians social relations are encapsulated in the planner’s view

AR2′ ++ The scheme is dominated by a “vision” of Copenhagen as European Capital

++ The negotiations between the territorial scales are at the root of the planning process

+ The role of citizens is poor (possible appeals to the courts—nevertheless important). Businesses influence the process through the Chamber of Commerce and the specialized agency Lisbon ++ Multiplicity of dialogue processes and relations dominated by political and social aspects + Emphasis on integrating sector-base policies and establishing horizontal links, using the image of “Lisbon Atlantic Capital of Europe” + Strategic plan provides the basis for municipal master plan ++ Participation of a wide cornmunity

Marks Kommun ++ Horizontal political and social relations are important

Hordaland ++ Partnership between public institutions, industrial organizations and labour unions is regarded as crucial + Integration of ++ Integration of 00 The plan is the sectors by a sectors and strongly economic shared acceptance territories in the plan and there is a lack of the problems of integration of met by territories social, environmental and physical aspects

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AR3′ + Alliance between the State and the municipalities (to the detriment of the regional government)

++ Conflicts between levels of government are solved through negotiations AR4′ 00 Citizens and businesses are outside 00 Citizens and the initial decision-making process businesses are dominated within the decisionmaking process ++ High convergence + Medium—weak convergence 0 Medium—weak divergence 00 High divergence

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++ Good relations despite the strong decentralization at the communal scale

00 There are two separate forms of planning at the County and Commune levels + Strong ++ Increased involvement of importance of enterprises but the negotiations with business community, citizens’ integration developers and the is more problematic public Case studies are showing a tendency towards the feature specified.

The transformations in European planning systems The main challenge proposed at the beginning of this comparison was to outline the characteristics of the evolution of the institutional systems of spatial planning developed in European countries during the 1980s and 1990s. The study of institutional innovations in different contexts has allowed our understanding of the transformation of these systems to progress. The convergence hypothesis has been sustainable, even if contradictory evolutions have been at first glance surprising (Ørestad and Friesland). A few general remarks will now be made. First, the case studies show many transformations in European spatial planning systems. Much more complex spatial systems have emerged. There are more agents, the aims of planning have changed. The relations between the public and private sphere have therefore in most cases been rebuilt. The public sphere itself has been restructured. A new mode of political guidance for the society has been “invented” over the 1980s and 1990s Therefore, the second interesting element is the greater complexity of the public sphere. This is linked to the change in the nature of the rationalities of societal guidance (R1'). The necessity for a stronger coordination within the public sphere has emerged from this greater complexity (AR2' & AR3'), linked to the priority given in most of the cases to economic and social challenges (R3'). One possible evolution of planning systems is indeed the paralysis or the inability to take fundamental and strong decisions, as a result of this complexity. The third element is the relationship between the public and the private spheres. The evolution of this relation is linked to the integration of spatial planning systems within the systems of social governance, particularly in the functioning of the political institutions (domination; Giddens 1984:29, 31) and the legal institutions (legitimization; ibid.). The plan-making activities are structured by the models of democratic relations that are prevalent in the European systems. Two models coexist in western European countries: a model of representative democracy and a model of continuous democracy.22 What most of the cases show is the working out of these models and the reconstructions that have resulted. Within the model of representative democracy, plan-making activity is the exclusive competence of the political sphere, with an important role that could be played

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by technical staff. But the citizens are pushing at the doors of the deliberations of these arenas. The case studies in this book (Lancashire, Lyon, Madrid, 22. Sweden, Norway, Denmark, Netherlands, Switzerland. Forums are continuous and are influencing the political processes between elections. The deliberations of the arenas are deeply influenced by the forums.

Table 13.8 Comparison of the referents. Agents A1' A2' A3' A4'

AR1' AR2' AR3' AR4'

R1' R2' R3' R4'

No dominant public agent Open public sectors Dependent territorial administrative levels Many private agents

Agents’ relations Horizontal political and social relations are dominant Horizontal integration of the sectors through the development of a culture of superior objectives: “vision”, employment, social needs Vertical integration of the territorial levels through negotiation within the public sphere Citizens and businesses influence the elaboration of plans Referents To rationalize the decision-making processes of the social system To integrate the elaboration and the implementation (flexibility) Priority given to the economic and social challanges (developmental planning) Legitimacy shared between the public and private spheres (citizens, businesses)

Lisbon, Grosseto) show that the fragilities of this model are overcome by the development of forums, which are a way of influencing and legitimizing the building of norms and rules within the arenas. There is in some respects a convergence towards the second model of continuous democracy. But if this seems to work appropriately in some localities (Zürich, Marks Kommun), there are opposite movements in three cases (Ørestad, Friesland, Hordaland). The evolution in Ørestad is leading to almost authoritarian decisions at the beginning of the decisionmaking process. Is it in order to try to dominate a system of relations between the public and private spheres that has been going too far in its complexity? Is it a renewal of the ability of the public sphere to take strong decisions? In the Friesland case, the deep understanding by the technical staff of the nature of both the issues of the region and the nature of the planning processes led to acceptable propositions for the political system, outside the usual continuous democratic approach. This “innovation” shows the “renovated” role that the technical staff could play with the development of their social engineering methods. It could be interpreted also again as a way to evade the over-complexity of the workings of spatial planning systems within a model of continuous democracy. Are these last evolutions attempts at a

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deliberate return to the model of representative democracy? Is it the difficulty in discovering ambitious solutions to face a deep economic crisis that leads to rebuilding the modes of decision-making? In this period of transition, these cases illustrate possible evolutions, if an appropriate public guidance is not included in the workings of the spatial planning systems. However, in the cases we have studied, the legal systems are still working, with elected assemblies deliberating, as in the representative model. The case studies investigated in this book allow a reinterpretation of the transformation of spatial planning systems, or at least enable us to build hypotheses about their transformations. We witness the intensification of the political and social relations within the decision-making processes. It is as if European social systems were reinforcing their solidarities into the elaboration of the most fundamental decisions concerning their future. It seems that social groups have understood and made demands that the evolution of their social systems have to be built with their direct influence, not just with the interpretive mediation of the politicians or the technicians. The Lyon case shows the emergence of the idea of the future as a product of collective political will. This notion of will means that the public and the private spheres come together to adjust the future of the city through their actions and to prepare it as well as possible to respond to tomorrow’s uncertainties and challenges. References and further reading Boyer, R. & J.P.Durand 1993. L’après-fordisme. Paris: Syros. CEC (forthcoming). The compendium of spatial planning systems and policies: comparative review of systems and policies. Luxembourg: Commission of the European Communities. Davies, H.W.E., D.Edwards, A.Hooper, J.Punter 1989. Planning control in western Europe. London: HMSO. Demeestère, R. & G.Padioleau 1989. Politique de développement et démarches stratégiques des villes. Paris: Plan Urbain, 1989. 131 p. Friedmann, J. 1987. Planning in the public domain: from knowledge to action. Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press. Giddens, A. 1984. The constitution of society. Cambridge: Polity Press. —1990. The consequences of modernity. Cambridge: Polity Press. Healey, P. 1994. Trends in development plan-making in European planning systems. Working Paper 42, Centre for Research in European Urban Environments, University of Newcastle upon Tyne. Healey, P., P.McNamara, M.Elson, A.Doak 1988. Land use planning and the mediation of urban change: the British planning system in practice. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Innes, J. 1995. Planning theory’s emerging paradigm: communicative action and interactive practice. Journal of Planning Education and Research 14(3), 183–90. Jobert, M. & P.Muller 1987. L’état en action. Paris: Seuil. Motte, A. (directeur) 1995. Schéma directeur et projet d’agglomération. Paris: Juris-Service. Neuman, M. 1996. Images as institutional builders. European Planning Studies 23(3), 293–312. Rousseau, D. (ed.) 1995. La democratic continue [Actes du Colloque de Montpellier, 2–4 avril 1992]. Paris: LGDJ—Bruylant.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN Agenda-setting in European spatial planning Abdul Khakee Shaping agendas A policy agenda can be simply defined as a set of substantive issues that planning tries to tackle or resolve. They are compiled from general and recurring problems and from topical concerns of planners and decision-makers. A characteristic of spatial planning agendas is the concern with the spatial and temporal aspects of problems and issues. Three sets of questions are raised in considering these policy agendas. Procedural questions include: How do issues come onto a planning agenda? Why do some issues receive serious attention in the planning process and others do not? How do planners and decision-makers narrow their choices from a large set of issues? How and why do planning agendas change over time? Spatial questions include: What concepts of space do the spatial planning agendas embody? What levels of space do the agendas focus on? What is the impact of the cross-national transfer of spatial organizing ideas? Temporal questions include: How is time conceived by different actors in setting agendas? What is the interplay between short-term operational and long-term strategic considerations in agenda-making? Closely related, but not entirely time-based, is the question of the effects of uncertainty, complexity and instability on agenda-making. The procedural analysis of agenda-setting consists of two aspects: identifying and tracing the source of ideas; and the process during which ideas find a hold and grow into prominence (Kingdon 1984). For example, in the majority of our case studies, serious attention was given to position within Europe. This was most marked in the metropolitan cases. Concepts such as “city regions”, “regional networks” and “European territory” were often used here. The process leading to the prominence of this issue informs us not only about how policy-makers trade off the new demands of European spatial competition against the local requirements of the existing spatial structure, but also about more pragmatic considerations such as attracting firms and EU funds. A complex combination of factors is responsible for moving an idea or a proposal into agenda prominence. The policy literature generally classifies these factors into two categories: actors and arenas, and policy processes (Ham & Hill 1985). Professional planners, experts, consultants and politicians not only initiate agenda-generating processes but have a major influence over their course. However, ideas come from many sources, besides the government. These sources include pressure groups, lobbyists, mass media, and so on. The role of these groups may be either visible or obscured and they make use of both formal and informal arenas. Various aspects of the role of participants are analyzed in the preceding chapter. The analysis of spatial questions provides us with insights such as the following. Substantial changes in the economic and political orders (for example western European integration, eastern European disintegration, the triumph of market economic ideology)

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and several interrelated shifts in western European local governance (that is, from provider to proactive state, from integrated to fragmented governance, from national dominance to local dominance of public agencies and lobby groups) have called into question the assumption of spatial coherence (Healey 1996, and see Chs 1 and 2). At the theoretical level, the post-modernists and the post-Fordists have challenged the modernist concepts of (geographical) centrality, hierarchical growth and bureaucratic control of spatial development, and have underlined instead the fragmented network-based and proactive development of urban activities (Cooke 1990, Nylund 1995). The third type of analysis, namely, the temporal analysis of agenda-setting, focuses on such concepts as time horizon, time conception and uncertainty in the planning environment. As long as uncertainty was conceived to be linear and manageable, planning problems tame and straightforward, and the planning environment stable and without surprises, the time horizon of plans was a mechanical issue. Faced with nonmanageable quantitative as well as qualitative uncertainty, “wicked” and complex problems and high levels of instability and fuzziness in the planning environment, strategic planning has involved a complex mesh of temporal and non-temporal considerations (Rosenberg 1989). In this chapter, we look at some theoretical approaches to help us frame hypotheses with which we can explore the material in our case studies. Then we analyze the process of agenda-setting in the case studies under the following headings: the setting of policy agendas, policy articulation, spatial organizing ideas, temporal considerations and policy discourses. Finally, we present what would appear to be some major innovations in European spatial agenda-setting. Theoretical approaches Procedural theories In Chapter 2, we distinguished four dominant approaches shaping spatial management and other forms of governance. The traditional directions were the provider state, based on the comprehensive rational approach to planning, and the negotiative state, with its corresponding bargaining planning style. The contemporary modes are the neoliberal state, emphasizing market management, and the collaborative state, requiring interactive planning (see also Innes 1995, Healey 1996). Agenda-setting according to the comprehensive rational approach is a logical process including clarification of policy goals, systematic analysis of problems and comprehensive understanding of urban and environmental systems. Conditions identified as problems are moved onto the policy agenda with the help of well defined monitoring procedures and feedback loops (see, for example, Faludi 1987). The bargaining planning approach emphasizes three central points. First, limitations with regard to information and political circumstances that require agenda changes to be made in incremental steps rather than comprehensively (Lindblom 1959). The second point is the discretionary nature of agenda-setting because of the unity between policy and action (Barrett & Fudge 1981). Finally, the pluralist view of interest mediation arising from the presence of many conflicting alternatives is also stressed (Healey et al. 1988).

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The interactive, institutionalist planning approach described more fully in Chapter 2 characterizes policy -making as a public discourse involving “diverse, fluid and overlapping discourse communities”, which can nevertheless be roughly categorized into “professional, political and advocacy groups” (Healey 1993). It involves a set of “ritualized interactions”, which are: …dialogical, allocative and transformative (in which) deliberating participants can have a good deal to say about what they do together, about how they listen to one another or fail to, about how they search for new options or fail to, about how they learn and find new ways of going on together or fail to. (Forester 1996) This description applies to strategic spatial planning, which can be described also as a “shared-power, interorganizational, interinstitutional environment” (Bryson & Crosby 1992). The interactive planning approach considers agenda-setting processes in terms of information control, attention-shaping and various applications of knowledge; it considers policy articulation in terms of linkages between different policy fields; and it considers policy discourses as an interaction of policy theories, storylines, images and metaphors. Spatial theories There is a great diversity in planning literature with regard to theories of urban change. The frame of reference provided in Chapter 2, which distinguishes traditional forms of hierarchical and integrated spatial actions from the contemporary trends of fragmented and competitive land uses, helps us to understand what are the current key spatial organizing ideas today and how they differ from previous ideas (see also Healey et al. 1995, Nylund 1995). The assumption of spatial coherence and hierarchy meant that the focus of spatial planning was on functional questions of production and consumption. Market forces, together with zoning ordinances, were assumed to provide for the appropriate location of various urban activities. The modernist city emerged as a selective and hierarchically organized unit fulfilling the requirements of economic efficiency, while keeping various activities at the right distance from each other. It was a product of market forces and rational public planning where the latter actively attempted to counteract housing segregation and other negative externalities. The Swedish “Million Dwellings Programme” and the earlier blueprint planning of neighbourhood units (such as Vällingby in Stockholm) are well known examples for achieving this type of development. We find similar social democratic projects in other western European countries. The globalization of capital, the introduction of subcontracting linked to “just-in-time” delivery systems and flexible manufacturing systems implied new patterns of spatial dispersion within cities and between cities and even countries. The establishment of neoliberal regimes (the us term is “conservative” regimes) in many western European states has led to the marginalization of collective consumption (Cooke 1989, Esping-

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Andersen 1990). These developments in turn undermine the concept of centrality for the location of urban activities and encourage the fragmentation and network-based development of the urban environment. “Strip development”, “exploitation of spatial nodes and niches” and the “marketing of space” have become central ideas in the spatial planning agenda in western Europe. Temporal theories The blueprint concept and the technical rational view of spatial planning accorded well with the existence of a provider state enjoy ing political consensus, and facing low levels of uncertainty. The crises in production, rising unemployment and generalized depression, which have occurred intermittently since the mid-1970s, and changes in the political order in the 1980s, have introduced a considerable amount of uncertainty in the economic, political and social domains (Khakee & Strömberg 1993). In this context, the distinction between quantitative and qualitative uncertainty is useful. The former refers to the situation “where possible futures are known, but their probability distribution is unknown”. The latter refers to the situation “where the very shape of possible future is not known” (Dror 1986). Examples of the latter are “explosive situations”, such as the current ecological and political situation in Russia and other eastern European countries. There are several limitations in mapping and reducing uncertainty when decisions face non-linear changes and possible surprises. The choice of timespan for planning, as well as strategic considerations about future development, becomes limited when entering into constraints and commitments (Khakee 1988). Alternative ways of managing and “living with” uncertainty require flexibility in planning (Friend & Jessop 1969). For this purpose, three types of uncertainty, each calling for a different type of response, may be distinguished: uncertainty about the relevant planning environment, uncertainty pertaining to value judge-ments, and uncertainty about decisions in related decision areas. Examples of failures related to these three types of uncertainty are faulty forecasts of demand, failure to account for and integrate values in the policy-making process, and failure to allow for value shifts in areas related to a given decision (Friend & Hickling 1987). What do we find in practice? The following section provides an empirical analysis of agenda-setting in our case studies. The picture is not as uniform as our analysis might suggest, since unemployment, pressures for privatization and environmental issues pose different challenges in different countries. We nevertheless feel that our comparison highlights some important points in spatial policy agenda-setting in contemporary Europe. Setting of policy agendas The nearest to the comprehensive rational approach we found in our case studies is the model that made use of common planning premises (goals, data bank, projections) in preparing a comprehensive set of plans in Marks Kommun in Sweden and the “visionary

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model” based on a thorough programme of research carried out for earlier planning exercises in the Netherlands. In both cases, however, technical considerations were modified by political judgements. The bargaining planning approach can be investigated in various ways. One way is to find out if policy agendas changed incrementally. Our cases were selected because they were innovative, so they were less likely to reflect incremental changes. However, there are examples in our material that show gradual changes in the policy agendas, where alternatives were generated slowly and a timely event or idea led to a heightening of interest in an issue. For example, the Lisbon case study mentions the deterioration of living conditions. However, the lack of political mobilization and the overriding economic interests hindered any attempt to take organized action. It was the realization that Lisbon must join the competition with other EU metropolitan regions that led to the political commitment to improve those living conditions. In the Lancashire case, old agendas were rolled forward and recast in the language of economic competitiveness and environmental sustainabiliry. Another way of investigating the bargaining approach is to look for the central role of the policy-action link, which is so crucial in the project-based approach to planning. Our case studies do not show that issues have been moved onto policy agendas exclusively in order to achieve the policy-action link. However, in some cases the link has been an essential factor. For example, in the case of Marks Kommun, the links between broad strategies in the structure plan and the detailed policy proposals in the development plans were essential for moving several land-use issues along the policy-action agenda. A third aspect of the bargaining approach is the impact of pluralism and conflicting interests on the development of policy alternatives. These factors by themselves were not enough to explain policy articulation. For example, the urban containment policy described in the Zürich case study cannot be explained solely with the help of interest pluralism. It is a product of a fusion of national policies with regard to service sector development and a national polycentric urban network, with local policies for redeveloping old industrial sites, protecting residential areas and reducing cars in central urban areas. Another example of interest mediation in the face of conflicting concerns is the transportation issue in Lancashire, where the policy agenda included proposals for improving public transportation in order to win support for the plan from the environmental lobby, as well as proposals for investing in existing and new motorways to increase the region’s accessibility to its suppliers and markets. Attention-shaping has been a major factor in the interactive process determining policy agendas (see, for example, Forester 1989). We find substantial evidence of this in our case studies, where we can distinguish several ways of capturing attention. Making use of a “focusing issue” was one way. For example, Lyon had a longstanding social imbalance and had experienced a deterioration of social conditions in certain areas of the urban region. This seemed to have been perceived in previous plans, but needed a push to get onto the decision agenda. This push was provided by Lyon’s ambition to turn the urban region into a European metropolis and give it a position within the European spatial context. Decentralization of planning responsibilities from the national to the local level gradually created an appropriate context for demanding that something be done to redress the problems associated with the social imbalance. Similar examples are found in Lisbon and Madrid.

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Another way to shape attention in order to push issues onto policy agendas was to make use of new perceptions and interpretations of issues that have been on policy agendas for a long time. For example, in Friesland as well as Marks Kommun, the geographical distribution of building, urban-rural development and conflict between agriculture and environment were issues that had occupied the planners when they worked on previous plans. But an increased appreciation and interpretation of ecological requirements created a favourable situation for dealing with these issues. Sometimes the attention-shaping process was distorted because of ambivalence in major policy goals. For example, at the core of the policy agenda in Lancashire, where unemployment has been endemic, was job creation. This major policy goal was interpreted in various ways in the structure plan: provision for the needs of existing industry, attracting new footloose enterprises, re-use of derelict sites, reduction in the demand for greenfield sites, and so on. Another dominating policy goal was environmental care. However, so dominating was the goal of job creation that environmental policies were interpreted in relation to employment policies to protect landscape and concentrate urban development. No opportunities were to be missed in order to attract and generate employment. Bergen-Hordaland county plan exhibits similar characteristics. At the centre of this Norwegian plan was the retention of the long tradition of urban-rural balance. However, in the realization that Norway must not miss the current European competition to create viable regions, the planners and decisionmakers wanted to make the Bergen region into a locomotive for future development in Western Norway and hopefully an attractive region for international investors. The new policies tried to combine traditional rural oriented policies of condensed spatial development with the policies of new transport networks and market-attractive industrial locations. Political forces shaping agendas are influenced by such things as ideological distribution in the parliaments, public mood, pressure group campaigns, and election results (Kingdon 1984). Their impact on agenda making can be quite drastic. For example, in Copenhagen, a coalition of national and local politicians abandoned the longstanding principle of “uniform” development for a more flexible principle of “appropriate” development. The entire planning process of developing Ørestad with a road and rail link to Malmö region in Sweden kept the planners and the public virtually out of the agenda-making process. The major policy issue was creating a new transport infrastructure in order to further the growth and development of business and industry in the Copenhagen region. In the case of Madrid a major substantive issue was to further a more integrative growth policy for the entire region and build the institution of regional government in order to implement the socialist party’s policies for sociospatial equity via government intervention. This agenda also served as political re-election strategy. In all three cases, however, the rhetoric reflected those which are evident in other cases (e.g. Lancashire, Lisbon and Lyon), namely the rhetoric of European economic integration, transnationalization of capital, and the assertion of the county or metropolitan area as a major European region. The cross-national transfer of policy ideas is evident in agenda-setting in all the case studies. EU-regionalism and environmentalism are the two most common ideas. Interpretation of problems and issues and their ultimate prominence on policy agendas arise out of comparisons. Nowhere was such comparison as evident as in Grosseto. The

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grounds for comparison in Grosseto’s plan-making, especially the policy agenda for the development of tourism, transport infrastructure and environmental quality, were not limited to current and past development in this Italian province but included development projects carried out elsewhere in Italy and other Mediterranean countries, reflecting especially the unification of agriculture policy in western Europe. Policy articulation The pro forma for the case studies (see Ch. 2) emphasized policy articulation between the way in which various policy fields (such as land for housing, transportation and environmental protection) are linked to make one coherent policy. In the rational planning approach, policy coordination was very much a question of reducing constraints to achieve a “common action space”. In theory, it was a “black box” model (Alterman 1982) and in practice local governance was treated as a series of separate service functions. This facilitated central government’s organization of its role in the administration of various services. Such “sectorialization” was a major constraint to creating links and connections between policy fields within urban regions. Our case studies reveal several ways of overcoming this constraint (see Ch. 13). In many cases, such as Friesland, Lisbon and Marks Kommun, a common orientation was provided through interaction between local government departments and political boards. But these and other case studies show other ways to achieve policy articulation. One such approach was the use of a unifying concept or a storyline or an image in order to bring about closer interplay between various policy fields. For example, in the case of Lisbon, the city was exalted as a focal point around which knowledge could be built and policy fragmentation avoided. This knowledge was then used for the development of a strategic plan, providing the basis for the municipal master plan. In the case of Lyon, the notion of “European metropolis” or “Eurocity” was used to identify four major challenges (economy, intercity competition, technological change and social transformation) within which links between policy fields were established. In the case of Madrid, the regional vision was carried forward in the regional plan. This proposed zonal strategies, the implementation of which was to be carried out by means of regional infrastructure investments, public development projects and agreements between regional and local authorities. This ensured that various policy fields were linked together in specific development projects. In Friesland, the division between dynamic and stable areas was related to a coordinated approach for allocating resources in the various policy fields. Considering one policy field in relation to all the other policy fields was another way to create links between them. For example, in Grosseto, policy interventions in the agricultural field were discussed in terms of not only food production but also landscape preservation, improving opportunities for tourism, strengthening the local community identity and promoting the image of the whole region. The project as a pivot for coordinating various policy fields has been commonly used in European local governance. This approach was clearly evident in Copenhagen, where the Ørestad project provided such a focus for policy articulation, even though there was a strong bias towards infrastructural improvements. Less obvious, but still significant was

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the national project “Rail 2000” in the Zürich case, which provided network growth principles for coordinating various policy fields. As mentioned above, sectoralization still represents a critical constraint to coordinating policy areas. The resulting interjurisdictional competition is increased where fundamental goal conflicts exist. The Lancashire case provides a compelling insight into how the balance between environmental and economic strategies was maintained in order not to disturb the policies with regard to land allocation and infrastructure investments. Spatial organizing ideas The traditional spatial organizing ideas, based on the notions of centrality, coherence and hierarchy, still affect the policy agendas in the plans reported in our case studies. The classification of dynamic and stable areas and the demarcation of regional centres in Friesland, and the similar classification of primary and secondary centres in Zürich, are the clearest examples. “Favoured” and “less favoured” growth areas in Lyon, strategic and non-strategic development sites in Lancashire, major and minor urban centres in Marks Kommun, are other examples of this thinking. Large-scale land-use and transportation investments are hallmarks of both managerial and entrepreneurial planning. We find examples of such meta-solutions in our case studies. In the Lyon plan, large-scale infrastructure investments were considered necessary in order to achieve economies of agglomeration. In the Zürich case, the emphasis was on the alliance of Swiss cities in a polycentric network of growth. The policy agenda of the Lancashire plan included large-scale renewal of transportation routes in order to enhance the status of strategic development locations in the county. The coordinated zonal strategies in the Madrid plan were intended to achieve physical development through major infrastructure projects and to attract economic investments by buying, assembling and offering large parcels of land served by infrastructure and other facilities. Urban containment in traditional planning approaches was often related to preservation of landscape, rural hinterland and green space. Contemporary manifestations of environmentalism provide a new consensus around this spatial organizing idea. An important and relevant development has been the re-use of old industrial sites and derelict areas within many European cities. The Zürich and Lancashire case studies provide examples of how abandoned or old industrial land could be planned for the location of new enterprises. These were justified not only by economic arguments about savings in infrastructure investments, and reducing transportation needs, but also new arguments about improving the urban ecological structure. Even in the sparsely populated Marks Kommun and BergenHordaland County, concentration of urban growth within the builtup area was put forward as a way to reduce road investments and improve the environment. Place-making or space-marketing was a major theme in nearly all the case studies. Globalization of capital generally, and increased competition in the European economy specifically, have driven many urban regions to improve their status, position and attractiveness. This is manifested in different ways in our case studies. In Lyon, development was prioritized in specific favoured areas in order to help Lyon become a European metropolis. In Lisbon and Madrid, the emphasis was on zonal strategies in

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order to attract new development and improve the image of the cities as Euro-Iberian capitals. In Lancashire, reorientation of transportation routes was proposed for attracting strategic development money from the EU and foreign investors. In Copenhagen the concept of Ørestad was to create an attractive and viable growth pole in a peripheral region of Europe. The Zürich strategy, based on the national policy of the polycentric urban network, was not only to enhance the urban region’s position as a German-Swiss bridgehead to Europe, but also as a part of an alliance of Swiss cities offering “a critical mass” in the context of European competition between regions. Even in the semi-rural regions of Friesland and Marks Kornmun, positioning with respect to other European regions was an important agenda item. Current urban development in western Europe has been characterized by the flight of industries to suburbs or to foreign countries. The location of high-tech and often footloose enterprises has been relatively independent of the location of raw materials and markets. The Lancashire plan makes explicit the promotion of strategic development locations in order to attract footloose industries. The Zürich plan advocates the redevelopment of industrial sites for the location of service sector enterprises. Marks Kornmun makes special provisions for attracting IT-enterprises. The shift from traditional ideas of spatial hierarchy and coherence to contemporary ideas of place-making, growth niches and fragmentation has not meant an abandonment of the use of meta-solutions and meta-doctrines. Increasing concern about sustainable and ecological balance has introduced a new meta-doctrine in spatial planning, namely, environmentalism. Furthermore, economic competition between regions as a result of the continuing integration within the EU has not only furthered the post-modern spacemarketing ideas, but “EU-regionalism” seems to have become a kind of meta-doctrine as illustrated most tangibly by the Copenhagen and Lisbon cases. This shift has meant that the traditional allocative and regulatory concerns have at times been supplanted by developmental concerns. This is most conspicuously illustrated in the case of Copenhagen, where the “appropriate” development concept replaced the “equal” development concept. In Grosseto, the emphasis was on networks among sectoral authorities and private developers. Temporal considerations A major difference from traditional planning was the treatment and choice of time horizons. The emphasis in contemporary planning is on “strategy” and not on “plan”. In most cases, the time horizon was between ten and fifteen years. In Friesland, the legislation stipulated that the regional plan should be revised every ten years. The time horizon of ten years implied “stability in policy”, which meant that the plan should not need changing between 1994 and 2004. In Madrid, a similar horizon was chosen because it was considered medium-term and feasible. The strategy was designed to span the life of public intervention encompassing infrastructure, land assembly and marketing, as a prelude to public, private and mixed development. In the case of Marks Kommun, the time horizon was around ten years, although the planning authorities announced a revision of the plan soon after it was approved. In Swedish municipalities, it is not unusual to have rolling spatial planning, which combines flexibility with long-term commitments. Even where the strategic development plans outlined long-term

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alternatives, the latter were explicitly related to medium-term and short-term plans. For example, in Lisbon, the policies identified in the strategic plan were directly related to two lower plan levels, namely territorial and project plans. In Hordaland, the strategic plan was supposed to have a long-term perspective for the management of resources, but the programme of actions provided the basis of the kommunplan with a time horizon of ten years. Another important departure from earlier planning was the emphasis on “strategy”, whereby subsequent “action” needed many factors to be in place. In Madrid, “timing” rather than “time” was important. It was “when”, not “how far in the future”, which was decisive for knowing the right conditions for acting. In the Friesland plan, the strategy focused on stimulating municipalities and local developers rather than regulating development. Another expression of this philosophy is found in the Lancashire plan, where “policy talk” rather than the implementation imperative was to determine investment and conservation priorities. None of the case studies explicitly discusses the management of uncertainty, but the way strategies and policies were formulated provides compelling evidence of such management. One way was to postpone tricky, especially controversial, issues. In Marks Kommun, several environmental issues were left to future plans to solve. Another way was to keep the “door open”. For example, despite the emphasis on urban containment and railways, the Zürich plan proposed no control measures in order to reduce building in the urban periphery. Nor did the plan abandon the option for future road projects. The Friesland plan responded to uncertainty, without having to revise the whole plan, in two ways. Policy statements were classified according to “hardness” or “flexibility”. Some statements were binding on the plan-making agency itself. Others could be departed from without revising the plan. Some points were left to be elaborated later when uncertainty was less. In Grosseto, where many development plans had previously been stopped by political vetoes, the planners tried to reduce political uncertainty by securing commitment from sectoral authorities, private developers and other community interests. This was also the case in setting up the strategic as well as the municipal master plan in Lisbon, where developers, public authorities and community representatives were involved in order to facilitate and legitimize the implementation. Policy discourses Our pro forma defined a discourse as a vocabulary for making sense of the agendas (see Ch. 2). Based on this definition, the discourse in earlier planning approaches included: • the control and management of the location of growth in order to redress negative externalities • distribution of growth in order to assure spatial justice • improvement of the amenities of urban areas. These discourses are still to be found in many of our case studies. However, they have been put into a new vocabulary of economic positioning within European (and global) competition, and of managing within the limits of finite natural resources. Moreover, the latter are more than “rhetorical tropes” (Throgmorton 1992). They represent in many ways “new” policy discourses. In the course of defining problems and setting agendas,

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policy discourses often stimulate the development of policy theories (see Ch. 2), which often cannot be deduced from looking at the decision alone. The discourse on positioning within Europe gave rise to several policy theories. The Lyon and Zürich case studies use the theory of achieving economics of agglomeration in order to improve the competitive position of the region under question. Marketing of city space is another theory, found in several case studies, most notably in Lisbon, which is presented as a European metropolis, an Iberian capital and an Atlantic City. Similarly, in Copenhagen, the concept of Ørestad is to engender growth less through national and regional planning than through marketing the space to European and international investors. Spatial classification based on new concepts such as “dynamic” and “stable” areas are put forward in the Friesland plan. Similar ideas are found in the plans for both Hordaland and Marks Kommun. Market accessibility in the face of transnationalization is another policy theory put forward, for example in the Lancashire plan. Environmental discourses have not given rise to new policy theories to the same extent as the “European position” discourse has done. Much of the environmental policy talk refers to several, not too coherent, concepts such as sustainability, finite resources, ecological diversity and ecological balance. However, some new theories have been put forward. For example, the Lisbon plan uses the concept “urban ecological structure”. The Bergen-Hordaland case study takes up the role of environmental scanning and resource audits in order to assess the opportunities and strengths of urban growth. The Zürich Plan discusses the concept of “inward urban development” in order to ensure high living standards. The Lancashire plan draws the distinction between accommodating growth and managing growth. The former refers to landscape conservation and implies locational constraints; the latter implies growth restrained within environmental limits. In several cases, the environment-engendered policy theories are part of the policy talk of the plans rather than actual policies. This is amply manifested in the issue of transportation, where the gap between theory and policy action is considerable. The policy discourses have given rise to many storylines. The ones that recur in many of the plans include: • the city region as a motor for economic growth competing with other European conurbations • the image of more market behaviour in public planning with hybrid and ad hoc organizations engendering growth, less control and more flexibility • balancing technological and social change with special attention to social equilibrium, spatial equity and balanced development • sustainable development, emphasizing urban ecological infrastructure or viable communities, or the spatial interplay between urban and rural elements • a proper mix of private and public transportation through polycentric urban networks or strategic urban corridors or urban containment.

Innovations in agenda-setting The setting of policy agendas in our case studies shows that European spatial competition and the new environmentalism have been the most notable factors determining policy agendas. Moreover, despite the differences in the problems faced by city regions such as

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Copenhagen, Lisbon and Madrid on the one hand, and regions with significant rural areas such as Friesland, Bergen-Hordaland and Marks Kommun on the other, substantial similarity exists in policy agendas. So, what are the major innovations in European spatial strategic agenda-setting shown in our cases? • Besides the traditionally accepted functions of control and implementation, plan-making and the plans have functions of legitimizing and persuading. This has to do with the changing conception of the role of the state and the scope of planning. Strategic plans are not meant for implementation at a pre-determined point in the future, but rather when economic, social and political factors all fit together. Timing rather than time was a crucial factor in strategic considerations. • Economic considerations, especially positioning within a wider European space, dominate spatial agenda-setting. However, planners and other stakeholders in the planmaking process were also struggling to balance environment and economy. This struggle shaped agendas, or at least the storylines. • Agenda-setting in nearly all our case studies was characterized by varying degrees of democratic concern, which included, for example, grassroots-style planning, using the plan as a part of the electoral platform in order to gain electoral support, and integrating many new actors with the help of formal and informal networks. • In most of our case studies, policy was articulated by building awareness of spatial interconnections across different issues and areas of policy concern. These interconnections were established by strengthening organizational links and/or making use of unifying concepts and storylines. • Our case studies show that place-making required local governance to have a multiple focus with regard to various levels of space. In agenda-setting the concern for local, regional and national levels of space was linked with European and global space. The key innovation could be seen as integrating various levels of space in establishing policy agendas.

References and further reading Alterman, R. 1982. Implementation analysis in urban and regional planning. In Planning theory: prospects for the 1980s, P.Healey, G.McDougall, M.J.Thomas (eds), 225–45. Oxford: Pergamon. Barrett, S. & C.Fudge (eds) 1981. Policy and action: essays in the implementation of public policy. London: Methuen. Bryson, J.M. & B.C.Crosby 1992. Leadership for the common good: tackling public problems in a shared-power world. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Cooke, P. 1989. Critical cosmopolitanism: urban and regional studies in the 1990s. Geoforum 20, 241–52. Cooke, P. 1990. Modern urban theory in question. Transactions Institute of British Geographers 15, 331–43. Dror, Y. 1986. Planning as fuzzy gambling: a radical perspective of coping with uncertainty. In Planning in Turbulence, D.Morley & A.Shachar (eds), 247–81. Jerusalem: The Magnes Press. Esping-Andersen, G. 1990. The three worlds of welfare capitalism. Cambridge: Polity Press. Faludi, A. 1987. A decision-centred view of environmental planning. Oxford: Pergamon. Forester, J. 1989. Planning in the face of power. Berkeley: University of California Press.

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—1996 Beyond dialogue to transformative learning: how deliberative rituals encourage political judgements in community planning processes. In Political dialogue: theories and practices, S. Esquith (ed.), 295–333. Atlanta, Georgia: Rodopi. Friend, J.K. & W.N.Jessop 1969. Local government and strategic choice. London: Tavistock. Friend, J. & A.Hickling 1987. Planning under pressure. Oxford: Pergamon. Ham, C. & M.Hill 1985. The policy process in the modern capitalist state. Brighton: Harvester Wheatsheaf. Healey, P. 1993. Planning through debate: the communicative turn in planning theory. In The argumentative turn in policy analysis and planning, F.Fischer & J.Forester (eds), 233–53. Durham, North Carolina: Duke University Press. —1996. The communicative turn in planning theory and its implications for spatial strategy formation. Environment and Planning B 23, 217–34. Healey, P., P.McNamara, M.Elson, A.Doak 1988. Land-use planning and the mediation of urban change. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Healey, P., S.Cameron, S.Davoudi, S.Graham, A.Madinipour 1995. Managing cities: the new urban context. Chichester, England: John Wiley. Innes, J. 1995. Planning theory’s emerging paradigm: communicative action and interactive practice. Journal of Planning Education and Research 14(3), 183–90. Khakee, A. 1988. Relationship between future studies and planning. European Journal of Operational Research 33, 200–211. Khakee, A. & K. Strömberg 1993. Applying futures studies and the strategic choice approach in urban planning. Journal of Operational Research Society 44, 213–24. Kingdon, J.W. 1984. Agendas, alternatives and public policies. Boston: Little, Brown. Lindblom, C.E. 1959. The science of muddling through. Public Administration Review 19, 79–88. Nylund, K. 1995. Det förändrade planeringstänkandet. PhD thesis, Nordic Institute of Urban & Regional Planning, Stockholm. Rosenberg, J. 1989. Rational analysis for a problematic world. Chichester, England: John Wiley. Throgmorton, J. 1992. Planning as persuasive story-telling about the future: negotiating an electric power settlement in Illinois. Journal of Planning Education and Research 12(1), 17–31.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN Planning strategies and planning methods Barrie Needham The case studies in this book can be read as examples of planning being undertaken in order to achieve specified goals. In most cases, many different agencies were involved in the planning, but usually there was one agency—a public body—that was primarily responsible for the planning and which formally adopted the policy content laid down in the end-product: the plan. This public body purposefully took, and coordinated the taking of, actions in order to achieve certain goals. In this chapter we look at the actions that were taken, why they were chosen, and what the outcomes of taking them were. Our aim is to deepen our understanding of planning strategies and planning methods. From that deeper understanding, implications for planning practice can be drawn. Here we first present the framework used to analyze the cases. This framework has the form of a (partial) theory about the choice of methods. Secondly, we carry out the analysis. And, finally, we draw conclusions. These concern the appropriateness and applicability of the theory and also the causes of innovation in methods used. A theory of the choice of planning methods The theory described here stands or falls with the premise that there is a planning agency.1 The planning agency is formally responsible for a particular planning exercise. This implies that it initiates, or coordinates, or steers, the actions taken to produce a plan or policy document, often after a formal decision to do so has been taken by a representative body of politicians, which directs the agency. It is also implied that the planning agency ensures that all the relevant actions are taken (including any that the law specifies for the production of a statutory plan), and that it formally adopts the plan or policy document as being a statement of its own policy. If the plan has a statutory basis, then the planning agency is usually obliged to take subsequent actions that are consistent with the plan it has adopted. These are actions such as processing planning applications, commissioning 1. This is what Alexander & Faludi (1990) call a “planning subject”. It is described as, “a general government or other organization (such as a special governmental or public agency in a particular sector of activity, e.g. settlement, transportation or environmental quality) with jurisdiction over the relevant territory or appropriate statutory powers in its area of concern….it is a planning subject as a result of its intention to intervene in the development of the relevant area and its accountability for such intervention; i.e. it has a mandate, whether as a unit of government or by statute, to plan the relevant area”.

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infrastructural works and making other, more detailed, policy documents.2 Although it is a starting point of our theory that there is a planning agency, it is not necessary that this agency is the starting point of a planning exercise. Often there will have been many actions taken by others, such as trying to get issues onto the political agenda, or initiating studies into local problems, before the decision is formally taken to make a plan. Nor does the theory assume that the planning agency makes the plan in isolation or without regard for the wishes or goals of others. Indeed, as we shall argue below, the planning agency would be advised to take full account of the wishes and goals of others if it wants its planning to be effective. What is central to the theory is the assumption that a body with governmental powers formally adopts a plan as being a statement of the development that it wants to see in a particular area.3 Clearly, whether or not there is a planning agency will depend on the case being studied. In some cases of planning, there might be no such agency, in which case the theory is not applicable.4 In most of the case studies included in this book, there was such an agency. This was a body with governmental powers, which formally adopted a document as being a statement of its strategic spatial planning policy for a region for which it had jurisdiction. And in those cases, this public body took the initiative to make the document, pushing and pulling others to work with it, reacting to pressures from others, giving and taking, accepting constraints imposed by others or fighting against them. In all cases, the result of these efforts was a statement of policy to which the planning agency committed itself to a greater or lesser extent. The situation is more complicated when there is more than one planning agency. With strategic spatial planning this is often the case, with one agency making a strategic plan that sets the framework (rigidly or flexibly) for a local or project plan to be made by another planning agency. If making the strategic plan precedes making the local or project plan, this can be analyzed as two separate planning processes, with two separate planning agencies. If there is more than one plan being made at the same time by separate agencies, then the planning processes interact, and the theory outlined here is difficult to apply. This seems to be the case in Bergen. The list of planning agencies, together with the strategic spatial planning they undertook, is given in Table 15.1. 2. A statutory plan is one that has been made with the intention of satisfying the requirements laid down in statutory legislation, after which the plan has a certain legal force. Plans can also be made without this intention: they might then be called something else, such as a “vision of the future”, or a “sketch for possible development”. Such plans have no force in law: however, the fact that they are often made shows how useful they can be. Most of the case studies in this book are of statutory plans. 3. See, for example, the Dutch Spatial Planning Act, which says that a province may produce a regional plan (streekplan) which sets out “in general terms the most desirable development of the area” (article 11, BRO). The same phrase is used (article 4, WRO) to describe the structure plan (structuurplan) which a municipality may produce. 4. This would seem to be the case in the example analyzed by Meyerson & Banfield (1955) of a public housing programme in Chicago in the late 1940s, about which they wrote, “The process by which a housing program for Chicago was formulated resembled somewhat the parlor game in which each player adds a word to a sentence which is passed around the circle of players: the player acts as if the words that are handed to him express some intention (i.e. as if the sentence that comes to him were planned) and he does his best to sustain this illusion.”

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Table 15.1 Planning agencies. Case study Planning agency

Strategic spatial planning

Lancashire Lancashire County Council Copenhagen National government Lyon The SEPAL, set up by 55 communes of the urban area of the Schéma directeur Grosseto Regione Toscana

County Structure Plan Plan for Ørestad Schéma directeur

Friesland Bergen Lisbon

Province of Friesland Municipality of Bergen County of Hordaland Municipality of Lisbon

Madrid

Regional government of Madrid

Marks Kommun Zürich

Marks Kommun Zürich canton

Schema Strutturale for the Provincia de Grosseto Regional plan for the whole of its area Strategic plan for economic development Strategic plan for economic development Structure plan for its whole area (and at the same time a master plan and detailed plans) Strategy “Madrid Region Metropolitana”, being worked out in the “Plan Regional de Estrategia Territorial” (with zonal strategies, including one for the “Gran Sur”) Structure plan Cantonal “guiding plan” (which is taken up by the commune of Winterthur in its landuse plan)

The statement of policy (usually in the form of a spatial plan accompanied by an explanatory written document) presents a description of the spatial disposition of activities and of the desired physical development in the area in question. Here a road, there an industrial estate, elsewhere a thousand dwellings, somewhere else a nature reserve. That desired spatial order can be specified in varying degrees of detail, according to the amount of “hardness” that the planning agency wants to give to its policies. Spatial plans that are strategic usually specify the desired spatial order only in outline, for the agency that makes the strategic plan cannot ensure implementation in detail. It is often others who take actions that would realize the plan. Examples of spatial order specified in outline might be: development must follow the principles of the compact city, development only to the north of the town, a particular area is to be protected from further development. The planning agency has decided that it will try to realize that desired spatial disposition as a way of realizing other goals (such as employment growth, environmental protection, economic efficiency, social unity). The theory assumes further that the planning agency acts purposefully and rationally. By this we mean no more (but also no less) than that it knows what it wants to achieve and that it uses reason to decide how to go about achieving it.5 What the planning agency 5. It will be seen that this is a much more limited use of the concept of rationality than in the discussions about “the rational planning model”. This, in its classic form, assumes, “that a planned course of action which is selected rationally is most likely to maximize the attainment of the relevant ends”. (Meyerson & Banfield 1955:314). For a review of arguments about rationalists, see Breheny & Hooper (1985).

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wants to achieve is often multifaceted. This will always include (ex hypothesi) a particular form of development. But it can include as well such things as: to increase the political strength of the planning agency, to attract funds from central government, to ensure the continued existence of the agency. The variety of functions that a plan can serve means that making a plan can be extremely complex (e.g. there can be conflicts between various functions). In this chapter, we concentrate on the function of trying to realize a particular form of development. The assumption of purposeful rationality implies that the agency uses reasoning to do that. The reasoning might be implicit or explicit, might be based on experience or research, might use theories that are right or wrong.6 In its weakest form, this assumption implies that the planning agency can justify its actions with rational arguments (ex post facto rationalization); a stronger form of the argument is that the planning agency chooses its actions by reasoning purposefully. And, of course, the agency might choose its actions for reasons that it deliberately does not make explicit in the plan. The reasoning behind the choice of action can be described as methodology, using Khakee’s (1994) treatment of method as “the application of knowledge to action” (see also Friedmann & Hudson 1974). If we add to this the dictionary definition of method as being “a way of doing something”, and qualify this with the methodologist’s definition of method as being a routine way of acting, then the actions can be classified according to the purpose for which they are taken. All the actions that are to be taken to achieve a particular purpose, together with the reasoning behind the choice of the actions, can then be described as a strategy. This chapter is a study of “planning strategies” and “planning methods”, with the meanings given above. Strategic spatial planning involves much more than making the plan itself (the policy document). The activities can be divided in many different ways. The following list is one classification among many. It is used to demarcate the particular activity on which this chapter will concentrate. The activities it classifies are those initiated by the planning agency. These include determining the work programme and resources to be put into it, setting up and using institutional relations, getting an issue onto the political agenda, analyzing the substantive problems in the area in question and predicting how these will change, devising a coherent set of measures for tackling those problems (determining the policy content), taking measures for realizing the policy content. Choices have to be made about the actions within all of those activities, and those choices can be informed by knowledge (and will be so informed in those cases where the assumption of purposeful rationality is valid). In this chapter we study just one of those activities, namely the planning agency taking actions to realize the policy content,7 the “desired spatial disposition” , usually presented 6. An example would be the neighbourhood principle used in the design of housing estates. This assumes that people make most social contacts with those living nearby. Another example would be the central place theory used in the design of a shopping hierarchy. This assumes that transport is so difficult that people travel to the nearest shopping centre which can satisfy their needs. 7. Two of the other activities, setting up and using institutional relations, and putting an issue onto the policy agenda, are the subjects of Chapters 13 and 14 respectively. The activity of determining the policy content itself is not considered here. Nevertheless, it will be apparent that there is a close connection between choosing the policy content and acting to realize it. In particular, it is argued in

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this chapter that a planning agency that wants to plan effectively will not include elements in the policy content that it thinks will be impossible to realize.

in the form of a spatial plan. The planning agency adopts that plan formally (e.g. by a decision of a regional council), but that action alone is not enough to realize the plan. The planning agency knows that it has to take many other actions in addition. This chapter studies those actions because of our theoretical and practical interest in the question of effectiveness.8 Effectiveness can be considered in two stages. The first is that the planning has the effect of realizing “on the ground” the spatial disposition specified in the plan. The second is that the changes “on the ground” have the effect on the planning goals (e.g. reducing unemployment, protecting the environment) that the planning agency seeks to achieve. Our interest in this chapter is in the first stage, in keeping with the institutionalist theme of this book (Ch. 2).9 The theory we investigate is the following. The planning agency wants to see realized on the ground the desired spatial disposition it has adopted formally. However, it does not have all the necessary powers or finance to achieve this by its own actions. This is especially so for strategic planning, which does not set out to develop concrete projects as much as to frame the actions that will develop projects (see Ch. 1). The planning agency must, therefore, take actions to influence the actions of those who can make changes on the ground.10 This we have called “driving from the back seat” (Needham et al. 1997). When deciding on these actions, the planning agency will use, explicitly or implicitly, ideas about which actions are necessary “in the field” (Bressers & Klok 1987), who takes those actions, and its own ability to influence the actions of those others. These ideas can be called a “policy theory” (that is “all the assumptions on which a policy is based”, where, crucially, the assumptions are about relationships; Hoogerwerf 1987:24). Because the maker of a strategic plan is dependent on others for the realization of its plan, the relevant policy theory will have to be a social interaction theory. According to this, policy-making and executing by the public sector should be understood as being the outcome of interactions between many bodies (see, for example, Simonis & Van Houten 1985). The effect of a strategic plan for spatial development is the outcome of what all relevant bodies do with the statements in that plan. Those statements give rise to a “chain of decisions”, which have, finally, direct effects on the spatial disposition. In that way, policy is “produced” not just by the initiator but by all those who use the initial policy 8. See Mastop & Needham (1997) for the “effectiveness theorem”. This holds that the quest for effectiveness is the regulating principle for planning, as the quest for truth is the regulating principle for academic research. 9. A study of the second stage requires a combination of “theories in planning” (Faludi 1973a: 1) or “substantive theories” (Faludi 1973b: 4), and instrumentation theory (Bressers & Klok 1987) about choosing effective measures on the basis of those substantive theories. 10. For this reason we prefer to talk about the plan-making agency trying to realize its plan rather than to implement it. We refer also to Alterman (1982), who says “The focus on implementation… reflects the realization that, unless policy-makers become much more knowledgeable about the dynamics of implementation and the factors that affect the course of a policy during the implementation process, government programs are likely to continue to be assessed as failures”. Alterman is talking about “implementation” in the same way that we talk about “realization”.

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statements. These are the “co-producers” (Zwanikken et al. 1995). If the initiators of the policy (planning agencies) take this into account and use it purposefully, they direct the policy statements at the co-producers, these being the “addressed actors” (see, for example, de Lange et al. 1997).11 It follows that the policy theory which the planning agency needs for an effective “performance” of its strategic plan must make connections between the decision-making of the “co-producers” on the one hand and the actions available to the planning agency on the other. For example, if the planning agency wants there to be private investment in shops in a town centre, it must know what actions to take in order to persuade private investors to develop shops there. It can be expected that the nature of those connections will not be the same in all circumstances, but will depend on what we can call “the context of strategic planmaking” ,12 For example, only if the planning agency has the powers to prepare and sell serviced building land to private developers can it consider taking such action to realize the town centre shops. To take another example, if private investors can put their money into shops in this region or into shops in another country, the planning agency has to persuade private investors that the return to their capital in its region is competitive internationally. In the analysis that follows, we examine the case studies in order to discover which actions the planning agency took and how they can be classified, on which policy theories those actions were based, which “context variables” influenced the choice of policy theory, whether there can be talk of a “successful” choice of actions, and how that might be measured. Analysis of the cases We see a wide variety of actions taken by the planning agency in order to realize its strategic spatial plan (or to increase the likelihood that it will be realized). These actions can be ordered as follows. Some of the actions were taken to increase the powers of the planning agency itself (perhaps a different department than that which carried out the planning) to change directly the spatial disposition in the plan area. In Copenhagen, the national government set up an autonomous development company, in which it had 45 per cent of the shares, in order to implement the project. In Madrid, the regional government created development authorities within the regional planning agency to implement regional strategy through 11. This is, very briefly, the “performance perspective” on strategic plans, and it is used in preference to the “conformance” approach. The dichotomy conformance/performance is taken from Barret & Fudge (1981). The performance perspective is preferred because it is based on a policy theory that gives a more accurate explanation of how strategic plans are received and used than does the theory behind conformance, namely “predict and propose”, “command and control” (see Ackoff 1979a,b). The performance perspective is described in more detail in Mastop & Faludi (1997) and Mastop & Needham (1997). The performance perspective is similar to the “network perspective” (Glasbergen 1989). 12. This is what Bressers & Klok (1987) call the “circumstances” which intervene between the taking of a measure and the effects of that measure.

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construction (housing, largescale economic development projects). In Marks Kommun, the “planning-8” was followed so as to get the sectoral departments of the municipality behind the structure plan. In Lisbon, a master plan and detailed plans were made in close liaison with the structure plan. Other actions taken had the purpose of gaining the commitment to the plan, before it was published, of some of those whose actions were necessary for realizing it. Often, these actions were taken at a very early stage in the planning process, for example, by involving the “co-producers” in the process of making the plan (see Ch. 13). These actions included building “trans-sectoral consensus” and “horizontal policy networks” (Lancashire—similar actions were followed in Lisbon too); “the level of urban reality was comprehended in the least conflictual way, in order to gain the support of local political representatives” (Lyon); making ad hoc but legally binding agreements with those who can realize the strategy (Madrid); or binding them through their active participation in the plan-making process (Bergen). In some cases, the planning agency openly adapted the content of the policy so as to gain prior commitment to it: “the main actors sought agreements by negotiation about finance and implementation” (Grosseto); the strategic plan had no hard content, this was worked out by “concertation” (consensusbuilding agreements) (Madrid); and the plan had to be modified to secure the acceptance of its opponents (Copenhagen). In other cases, this probably happened, but because of the practice of “negotiative planning in an informal way and behind closed doors—that is, pressure group-politics” (Marks Kommun), the effects on the content of the plan could not be known. The spatial plan is more likely to be realized if public opinion is behind it. It is not that “the public” are co-producers but that the co-producers (especially public bodies directed by elected politicians) will not want to ignore or thwart a spatial plan that has much public support. “The public” is too numerous and too diverse for its commitment to be gained.13 Instead, the planning agency tries to get people involved in the planning exercise, by, for example, following obligatory public participation procedures (Friesland, Marks Kommun, Bergen) or by giving much publicity to the plan-making (Lyon, Grosseto). And the planning agency sometimes tries to win over the public by propagating enticing images during the planning (Madrid, Lisbon) or by presenting its policy document in a beguiling way (Friesland, Grosseto). A different type of action that the planning agency can take to help to realize its own plan concerns the way it organizes plan-making. It bases its plan not on forecasts, predictions or projections, but on “prospectives” or scenarios (Copenhagen, Lyon, Grosseto, Zürich), because these emphasize a possible future as a way of mobilizing others behind the plan. Or an outside consultant is employed to lead the plan-making, in the hope that this will break interdepartmental rivalries within the planning agency and thus gain greater support within the agency (Grosseto, Marks Kommun, Lisbon). The “plan area” is chosen for more effective planning rather than using an existing administrative boundary (e.g. Madrid, Lyon “the logic of agglomeration replacing 13. Needham (1989) makes this difference as follows. There can be “directed intervention”, i.e. directed at known co-producers, hence at “the addressed actors”, and this can lead to cooperation; and there can be “undirected intervention” leading to influencing others whose cooperation is useful but can be achieved only impersonally.

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individualism”). The plan-making work may be organized around processes rather than sectors in order to break the compartmentalization between sector departments (Lisbon). Or the plan-making team may isolate itself so as to come up with a fresh vision (Friesland). For the same reason, existing policies may not be taken as the starting point (Friesland, Grosseto). Or the planning work concentrates on a few substantive issues (Lyon, Bergen, Madrid); or resources are spent on trying to convince by presentation and vision rather than by arguments based on research (Friesland). An action that some planning agencies took was to make a type of plan that was not statutory and hence was not bound by statutory procedures (Copenhagen), or where the statutory procedures were watered down to give the plan-makers more scope (Lyon, with its “ZAC sans souci”). Another type of action taken within the plan-making was to postpone contentious issues that would have been so difficult to resolve that they would have delayed finalizing the plan or threatened agreements already reached. We see this in Friesland, Marks Kommun, Madrid and Grosseto. Yet another type of action is to include concrete projects in the strategic plan, although they may not be realized within the legislation governing the strategic plan. The planning agency proposes the projects nevertheless, either to illustrate the possible working out of the strategy or because it intends to set up ad hoc project groups to implement them (Lyon, Grosseto, Bergen, Lisbon). The case studies often provide us with sufficient information for reconstruct-ing the policy theory behind those actions. In most cases, the planning agency considered it wise to mobilize the support of others behind the plan. Or the planning agency might have considered it prudent to nip opposition in the bud before it arose, knowing that others can torpedo your plan if you do not get them on your side. This mobilization took a wide variety of forms. In Copenhagen, the national government needed the support of the city government, so it set up a coalition with it based on mutual financial advantage. In Lancashire, the county council put more emphasis on a plan-led system, developing “new discourses with respect to focusing strategy development”. In Lyon, the planning agency used “the idea that the future is the product of chance, necessity and will. The public and private actors adjust the future of the city through their actions and prepare it as well as possible to respond to tomorrow’s uncertainty and challenges”. For this it is necessary to foster a “strategic will”, creating, should it be required, a “consensual myth” among the political representatives. In Grosseto, a planning method was chosen that would “connect to the behaviour of the inhabitants”. In Friesland, the aim was to win support in the form of recognition of the legitimacy of the policies being pursued and the province’s right to pursue them. A “visionary model” was preferred to a “consultative model”. In Hordaland county, what was important was not just the plan document but also the plan-making process as a way of getting the different partners dedicated to and involved in the implementation of “our plan”. In Lisbon, the plan was “pushed out of the office” in order to increase the chance of its adoption. Madrid moved “from acting directly on the region to acting directly on other agents, who in turn act on the region”. Marks Kommun tried to give its structure plan “credibility” by stating how it was to be made effective, that is, how it could be translated into the detailed policy contents of specific plans. Zürich tried to steer private investment by “promoting and enabling”, hoping that this would be effective and that restrictions on building in non-desired locations would not be necessary.

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The policy theory behind the “performance strategy” was, therefore, similar in all the cases. The actions taken, however, were not. Some of the differences can be explained by differences in the “context” of the planning. This can be illustrated with the two “deviant cases” among the ten planning exercises. These differ from the others in that in both cases the planning agency made its spatial plan behind closed doors. In Copenhagen, national government wanted urgently to create a metropole that could compete effectively with other regions in Europe and it had committed itself to working on the exceedingly expensive Øresund project. The city of Copenhagen was in economic decline and had no money for large projects. The national government thought that if it tried to follow the proper planning procedures it would get bogged down in rounds of public participation and swamped by waves of public protest, possibly accompanied by land speculation. So, it by-passed the statutory procedures. The other deviant case is Friesland. Here also, the planning agency wanted to change things quickly, seeing the environmental problem as urgent. So, it considered omitting the (non-statutory) rounds of consultation with other actors. It estimated, on the basis of experience, the effects of doing this. Would it gain less commitment? Did it have sufficient knowledge of the plan area? The decision was to opt for a “closed” plan-making process. Such context variables, which can influence the policy theory and hence the actions for realizing the strategic spatial plan, can be put under two headings. One is the nature of the substantive problem. How urgent is this? Who are the “others” whose decisions are necessary to bring about the realization of the plan? How can they be influenced? What are their options? How mobile are they (or their capital)?14 The other is the “capability” of the planning agency (Needham 1982:20). What are its statutory powers? Can it oblige other public authorities to act in accordance with the strategic spatial plan? Does it have money for building anything? Can it raise taxes? How dependent is it on other public bodies for effective plan-making and implementation? What is its political power with respect to those public bodies (e.g. do they have the same political complexion? Have they helped each other before?)? Is the planning agency bound to existing policy, formally adopted, either its own or that of public bodies (including national government)? Is there a tradition of effective policy-making and implementation? Is its legitimacy accepted by the citizens, by private investors, and so on? The case studies contain examples of the effect of all those context variables on the choice of actions. The cases are of planning agencies taking actions to realize their strategic plans. Were those actions successful? Success can be measured in various ways, one of which is “conformance”—that the spatial disposition has been changed in conformity with the plan. It might seem to be obvious that this is the best, perhaps even the only, measure of success. However, there are circumstances under which this is inappropriate; for example, if conditions have changed since the plan was made, so that the plan-makers would no longer see the “spatial disposition” laid down in the plan as being “desired”.15

14. These are the characteristics of “the field” where the measures must take effect and which influence, therefore, “the field process” (Bressers & Klok 1987). 15. Once again, we refer to the conformance/performance debate. See, for example, Mastop & Faludi (1997).

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In any case, only two of the planmaking exercises analyzed here are old enough to be evaluated in this way. One is Madrid, which has on this score been a success, in that much infrastructure has been built more or less as planned. The other is Grosseto, and on this test it was not a success. The plan has not been acted upon. The reason is that it failed to mobilize support, as it was too dependent on one person, who was moved to another position. In the other case studies, success has to be gauged by the extent to which the spatial plan has been accepted politically and socially and has the support (preferably the commitment as well) of the co-producers. In some of the cases, this is clear already (e.g. Lisbon, Friesland, Madrid, Marks Kommun). In other cases, a common body of knowledge and way of looking at things has been created (e.g. Lancashire, Zürich). Another measure of success is the creation of a culture of planning, impressing into the thoughts and actions of others particular ideas about spatial planning. On this measure, Grosseto has been a (partial) success. In other case studies, there are doubts about the success of the planning effort. In Bergen, the exclusion of local interests could lead to projects with unwanted local effects being blocked. And in Copenhagen, there is no guarantee that the scheme will be feasible or will not cause problems, because there has been no comprehensive spatial planning of which this project is an integrated part. Conclusions We have presented a theory about how a planning agency chooses what actions to take in order to realize its strategic spatial plan. This says that the agency is aware that it does not have the powers to realize the plan it adopts. So, it chooses the way in which the plan is made so as to involve those whose actions can lead to the plan being realized (or not). We have called these the “co-producers”. This is interactive plan-making. The agency often tries to gain public support for the plan during the plan-making. And it tries to gain support after the plan has been made by presenting the contents in a persuasive way. These are some of the methods used for the “performance strategy”. This theory has been used to analyze ten case studies; and it has been found to be applicable for this analytical purpose. This is, of course, insufficient to count as a test of the theory. Moreover, what was analyzed was a description, summary and analysis of the case made by someone else. Nevertheless, the fact that the cases could be analyzed using the theory without having to distort the facts means that the theory does not have to be summarily rejected. The theory can be translated into a methodology, as follows. If we take the normative stance that a planning agency should try to act effectively, then we can deduce that it should choose its actions on the basis of a policy theory that describes accurately the relationship between those actions and the changes to the spatial disposition desired by the planning agency. That policy theory should take account of the context variables. From this methodological conclusion, implications for planning practice can quite easily be drawn. That becomes more difficult when additional norms are taken into account.16 Some of 16. This can include what Throgmorton (1993) calls “the tragic choice of liberal politics: to be right and do good—in the planner’s own view—or to get things done—in his/her client’s view”.

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them are to be found in this book, more or less explicit. The most common ones are that one should make strategic plans in ways that are open and democratic; planning should aim for a more equitable distribution of opportunities and resources; planning should aim to protect and enhance the natural environment. How should the methodology take these norms into account? There is no unequivocal answer. Some of the methods for increasing the performance of a strategic plan can be regarded as closed (Friesland) or undemocratic (Lyon). On the other hand, it could be argued that, if the aims of the plan are important enough (e.g. physical development that protects an endangered natural environment), then planmaking methods should be chosen to increase the performance of the plan, even if that entails closed plan-making. (That was the justification given by the planning team Friesland.) It could also be argued that plans made with a deliberate disregard for the consultations, negotiations and compromises that would increase the chances that they perform well, are less likely to be effective (see the experience of Lyon, where the first version of the plan had to be withdrawn; and what will be the fate of the Copenhagen plan?). What should be the judgement if the plan-makers put much effort into making the plan easy and attractive to read? That they are trying to manipulate public opinion? Or that they are trying to involve more people in the planning? And how should we judge planning, which no longer tries to consult with as many persons and organizations as possible, directing the consultation effort instead at a few key actors? As less open and democratic? Or as a more efficient use of public money, because experience has taught that “undirected” consultation contributes little to the plan? Suppose that the planners try to realize investment that has been put into building up institutional capital, and they do this by cutting corners (as in Friesland). Are the planners efficient professionals or manipulating technocrats? Finally, what can be concluded about the innovations found in planning strategies and planning methods? These can be attributed to changing insights into policy theories in general, arising from theoretical and/or empirical research. An example is the rejection of the “command and control” model for strategic planning and its replacement by a “performance” model. This is partly the result of the findings of social science research being incorporated into the routines of strategic spatial planning. Innovations can be attributed also to changes in political philosophy. If, for example, the fashion is away from public intervention (“the withdrawal of government”), then the methods taken will favour indirect actions, such as influencing indirectly through the market. Less principled but not necessarily less radical are the changes in method caused by changes in the external context. An example to be found in some of the case studies (Lancashire, Lyon, Bergen, Zürich) is the increasing international mobility of private capital: in order to keep local capital in its own region, the planning agency might decide to involve local industrialists in plan-making. Finally, the planning agency can learn from the experience of having applied policy theories. If this experience has been unsatisfactory, new methods might be introduced. The clearest example of this is Friesland. Many innovations in planning are put down to fashion. The case studies analyzed here do indeed show that influence, but also illustrate planning agencies reacting intelligently to changing external situations and to their own rich experience.

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References and further reading Ackoff, R.L. 1979a. The future of operational research is past. Journal of the Operational Research Society 30(2), 93–104. —1979b. Resurrecting the future of operations research. Journal of the Operational Research Society 30(3), 189–99. Alexander, E.R. & A.Faludi 1990. Planning doctrine: its uses and implications. Werkstukken 120, Planologisch en Demografisch Instituut, Universiteit van Amsterdam, Amsterdam. Alterman, R., 1982. Policy for public participation: the design of implementation strategies. Environment and Planning B9, 295–313. Barret, S. & C.Fudge 1981. Policy and actions: essays in the implementation of public policy. London: Methuen. Breheny, M. & A.Hooper (eds) 1985. Rationality in planning: critical essays on the role of rationality in urban and regional planning. London: Pion. Bressers, J. The. A. & P-J.Klok 1987. Grondslagen voor een instrumententheorie. Beleidswetenschappen 1, 77–97. Faludi, A., 1973a. A reader in planning theory. Oxford: Pergamon Press. —1973b. Planning theory. Oxford: Pergamon Press. Friedmann, J.B. & B.Hudson 1974. Knowledge and action. Journal of the American Planning Institute 40(1), 2–16. Glasbergen, P. 1989. Milieubeleid: theorie en praktijk. Den Haag: Vuga. Hoogerwerf, A. 1987. Beleid berust op veronderstellingen: de beleidstheorie. In Handboek beleidswetenschap, P.D.Lehning & J.B.D.Simonis (eds), 23–38. Amsterdam: Boom Meppel. Khakee, A. 1994. A methodology for assessing structure planning processes. Environment and Planning B21, 441–51. Lange, M. de, H. Mastop, T.Spit 1997. Performance of national policies. Environment and Planning B, forthcoming. Mastop, H. & A.Faludi 1997. Evaluation of strategic plans: the performance principle. Environment and Planning B, forthcoming. Mastop, H., & B.Needham 1997. Performance in spatial planning—the state of the art. Environment and Planning B, forthcoming. Meyerson, M. & E.C.Banfield 1955. Politics, planning and the public interest. New York: Free Press. Needham, B. 1982. Choosing the right policy instruments. Aldershot, England: Gower. —1989. Interventie-theorieën voor de ruimtelijke ordening. In Ruimtelijk handelen, N.Muller & B.Needham (eds), 43–56. Zeist: Kerckebosch. Needham, B., A.Faludi, T.Zwanikken 1997. Strategies for improving the performance of planning: some empirical research. Environment and Planning B, forthcoming. Simonis, J., & D.van Houten 1985. Kennis en macht—de onevenwichtigheid van beleidsmodellen. Beleid en Maatschappij 10, 243–52. Throgmorton, J.A. 1993. Planning as a rhetorical activity. Journal of the American Planning Association 59(3), 334–46. Zwanikken, T., W.Korthals Altes, B.Needham, A.Faludi 1995. Naar een actuele en verbeterede VINEX. Stedebouw en Volkshuisvesting 76(5/6), 18–26.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN Strategic plan-making and building institutional capacity Patsy Healey, Abdul Khakee, Alain Motte, Barrie Needham Tendencies in spatial strategy-making in Europe This book has presented the activity of making spatial strategies and plans as an interrelated process of strategy formation and institution-building. In some of the cases reported, the emphasis was on the first (as in Friesland and Zürich); in others it was on the second (as in the Lancashire case). In many of our cases, effort was being undertaken on both fronts (as in Lyon and Madrid). The practices we have described were dynamic and varied. Some cases were in the middle of continuing changes. It has not always been possible to tell whether strategies, practices and institutional relations will actually be substantially changed as a result of the effort spent on strategic planning. New practices may not in the end displace the old (as in Grosseto). The content of strategies and the relations of institutions were also very diverse, with innovation in different dimensions of the strategy-making process. Innovations within a case may inhibit rather than reinforce each other, as in the Bergen case, where new participatory forms at submunicipal level ran counter to new forces that were emphasizing proactive economic development at the county level; or the Lancashire case, where economic consensus-building arenas had little connection with broadly based environmental forums. In spite of the variation in the practices described, some general patterns can be identified. First, the hypothesis outlined in Chapter 1, of a shift from a practice largely conducted within the boundaries of the public sector to one undertaken in active collaboration with a range of social partners, seems to be broadly supported (see Fig. 16.1). Most participants understood spatial strategy-making as an interactive social process, which involved shaping attention and building “story lines” that could help mobilize and coordinate many players in the shared power world (Bryson & Crosby 1992) of managing urban region governance. There are two exceptions. In Madrid, the process was primarily contained within the public sector. Officials and politicians saw themselves as innovating in producing and implementing strategies, and in institutional design, translating into practices the ideas they had already turned into legislation. In Friesland, the movement was in the opposite direction to all the other cases, moving from collaborative consensusbuilding practices to reliance on the work of technically highly competent public officials.

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Figure 16.1 Institutional trajectories. The cases varied, however, in the extent and direction of the movement towards collaborative practices. Marks Kommun best illustrated a stable collaborative practice involving social partners from all the main stakeholder groups. The objective of the Grosseto exercise was to achieve this, but it failed to obtain support from the agency with formal power in plan-making and development regulation. The Lyon and Zürich cases showed signs of moving towards collaboration with all stakeholder groups, but were still firmly managed by public officials and, in Lyon, by politicians. In Lisbon, consultants working for the public administration developed new structures for that administration. The Copenhagen case was headed in a different direction, breaking out of past broadly based consensus practices, to focus primarily on an alliance between the public sector and the developers who it was hoped would come forward. In the Lancashire and Bergen

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cases, as noted above, two trajectories were being explored at the same time. In the Bergen case, the balance seems to have tipped towards the alliance with the business sector. In Lancashire, the tensions between the links with business and those with citizen groups and environmentalists remain unresolved. What is of interest in these two cases is that both business and community-based groups generated pressures for collaborative plan-making approaches. This suggests that the criteria-driven technical regulation of development location decisions, one of the approaches to the planning described in Chapter 2, has little support among those who are concerned with the qualities of places and their enlightened self-interest. A second common feature is that the locus of strategic spatial plan-making was at the subregion or commune level (see Table 16.1). In several instances, Lyon and Madrid in particular, local actors made use of new powers as a result of the decentralization of a range of government functions and, in the Lisbon case, decentralization in the 1970s was being fully grasped. In Lancashire, where national policy still played a key role in structuring policy agendas, there was a strong informal counter-impetus to achieve horizontal coordination. Other cases show that vertical relationships were also important, particularly for developing coordination mechanisms among communes. In most cases, these held key powers, which meant that their cooperation was essential if any strategy was to be achieved. Sometimes these vertical links were made by building down from a subregional strategic alliance in order to gain commune support, as in Lyon. In Zürich, the movement tended to be in the opposite direction, strengthening the position of the canton in relation to the powerful communes. Thirdly, in all the cases, participants were building on institutional resources created in previous practices, as well as trying to shape new ways of doing things.

Table 16.1 The institutional arenas of spatial strategy-making. Level of articulation

Range of articulation With public sector

With social partners

National government C La Ly Lb B(H) G Commune B MK Key: B (H)=Bergen (Hordaland); B=Bergen municipality; C=Copenhagen (Ørestad); F=Friesland; G=Grosseto; La=Lancashire; Lb=Lisbon: Ly=Lyon; M=Madrid; MK=Marks Kommun; Z=Zürich. Subregion

FM

The nature of these institutional resources can be captured in the concept of an “institutional culture”. In some cases, this culture provided fertile ground for the growth of collaborative strategic spatial planning efforts, as in Marks Kommun. In this case, there was not merely an ability to collaborate, building on previous good experiences; there was also an understanding of the interconnectedness of the issues and the way they impacted on people and places. Such a store of social and intellectual capital also existed in Friesland, and enabled a widely supported plan to be produced quickly and

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legitimately by technical staff. In Lyon, participants were able to draw on a rich social and spatial consciousness in public policy, which provided resources with which to think through the relations between activities, people and places, as the new strategy was being developed. In Lancashire, in contrast, it was difficult to build understanding of spatial relationships across the various issues and areas of policy concern, because of the strength of centralized, functional organization in British public policy. In Grosseto, too, the institutional context impeded the development of a new planning culture. In Madrid and Lisbon, in contrast, the key innovation could be seen as the building up of a planning culture at the heart of metropolitan governance. One noticeable dimension of the culturebuilding work, in most of our cases, was an openness to external influences and an awareness of a world “beyond” the urban region and the nation-state. Fourthly, economic considerations were important in all the cases examined, and resulted in attempts to reorientate traditional planning practices away from forms more suitable for allocation and regulation, towards more proactive styles of governance. In Friesland, Marks Kommun, Bergen, Lancashire and Lisbon, these economic emphases were moderated by a strong awareness of environmental constraints on economic possibilities, although tensions often remained between these two forces. Only in Lyon was there a strong social dimension in the strategic debate. Fifthly, a strong tendency found in many of the cases was an energetic effort at “placemaking”. This effort was more than merely a form of place-marketing in a global competition of urban region space assets. It also involved developing a consciousness of place among local stakeholders. This was most marked in the metropolitan cases: Lyon’s European City, Madrid’s Gran Sur, Lisbon’s Atlantic City. In other cases too, there were efforts to re-express an identity, in terms of a position within Europe (Lancashire, Copenhagen, Zürich). What seems to be happening is that, in the new economic geography of Europe, places need to express themselves in two directions. On the one hand, they face inwards, to their citizens and firms. On the other hand, they see themselves as occupying a territory with other places with which they are competing for firms, or EU funds, or reputation and status. Spatial strategy-making provides an arena in which this double-faceted identity can be worked out. Finally, in all the cases, the activity of setting strategic directions and providing a framework for market processes was accepted as a desirable and normal activity. A spatial planning framework, and the various proactive initiatives that went alongside this, were not just ways of guiding the actions of the public sector. They were forces that could actively shape market opportunities. The demand for such market-shaping came, in part, from environmental concerns. But in several cases it was also being vigorously promoted by local business interests. Making strategies was thus also about making potential markets. This emphasized the dynamic task of “making” strategies rather than the traditional conceptions of “preparing plans”. Consequences of spatial strategy-making Efforts in producing planning strategies may be wasted if the strategy is then ignored. Did the efforts described in this book have significant consequences? As several of the authors note, the timescale from the start of plan-making to producing consequences is

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often long. Nevertheless, there is much evidence of outcomes and effects, even in the Grosseto case, where the work of the planning team seemed to be rejected in the formal arenas of government. This suggests that a form of planning that involves social partners, who will be involved in following strategic ideas through into actions, may be more effective in linking policy to action than the technical plans produced in the past. Plans that are not accepted by politicians and other key stakeholders have no results. Table 16.2 summarizes the outcomes identified in the case study chapters. These relate both to specific outcomes and to building institutional capital. The most common claim is that the frameworks and/or principles articulated in planmaking have been followed through in local decision-making by stakeholders (Lyon, Madrid, Lisbon, Marks Kommun, Friesland, and even in Grosseto). This is perhaps the most important measure of achievement of plan-making in its early stages. As discussed in Chapter 15, much effort had been directed in our cases towards building up the social coordination necessary to achieve this outcome. Another claim is that new ways of doing planning have been developed (a new approach to consensus-building in Madrid, a new way of using the planning system in Zürich, proactive planning in Bergen, efficient planning in Friesland, participatory planning in Grosseto). A third is that a new consciousness of certain issues has been arrived at (e.g. the awareness of the operational dimensions of environmental policies in Lancashire, or the greater understanding of the nature of economic development at the urban region scale, as in Bergen). Few of the case study authors make claims about the substantive outcomes of spatial planning activity (such as direct changes in the physical environment). Nevertheless, in the Madrid case, it is claimed that the plan helped to revive the fortunes of the southern areas of the city. In Zürich, plan-making contributed to reviving investment interest in the metropolitan region, following a decade of decentralizing pressures. In the Copenhagen case, the approach to the Ørestad scheme has been criticized on substantive grounds, in that the failure to undertake a wide-ranging strategic plan for the project is likely to lead to social, economic and infrastructure problems for future generations to deal with. In discussing consequences, the case study authors also make extensive comment on another outcome of plan-making activity, the building up of a store of institutional capital, which can be drawn upon subsequently. Sometimes the emphasis is on the enriching and sharing of knowledge and on ways of understanding issues, that is, building intellectual capital (Madrid, Lisbon, Lancashire, Grosseto). The most striking comments relate to the capacity to coordinate, that is, to build social capital. In Lyon, the process and the strategy itself helped to build up coordinative capacity. In Madrid, the strategic images acted as a coordinative tool, even though the agency that produced them became less important over time. In Lisbon, collaboration with a range of social partners facilitated both horizontal and vertical coordination. In Lancashire, there were tentative steps towards horizontal coordination through working with different social partners. In two cases, this coordinative capital already existed. In Marks Kommun, the “planning 8” idea shared by the participants enabled them to address new issues together. In Friesland, sufficient consensus already existed so that building coordinative capacity did not have to be a function of the planning process. This suggests that strategic spatial plan-making both benefits from, and helps to contribute to, an institutional capacity among stakeholders, in whose interest it is that urban regions should be rich in both intellectual

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and social capital. Finally, the Ørestad case seems to indicate a situation where coordinative capacity is being deliberately sidelined and broken up.

Table 16.2 Strategic spatial plan-making: consequences. Ørestad Lyon

Specific outcomes

Institutional capital

Expected: adverse social, economic and infrastructure impacts Communes use strategy

Loss of legitimacy

Madrid

Municipalities followed the plan. Strategic ideas helped to revive southern areas

Lisbon

Used in planning office for management purposes

Zürich

Built-up capacity to coordinate among communes The image acts to coordinate agencies, building a culture of planning and an appreciation of the region as a policy space Built up a common store of knowledge. Some capacity in horizontal and vertical coordination Generated a new selfconfidence locally

An acceptable compromise between economic interests and urban groups Revival of investment interest in Zürich New, more flexible ways of using the planning system Hordaland/Bergen New strategy More proactive approach Some tensions between economic development and public participation Lancashire Greater knowledge about Stronger horizontal environmental issues and how to link coordination to policy Friesland Efficient plan-preparation; plan used Building on existing by lower levels to frame their actions institutional capital Marks Kommun Planning ideas followed through into Building on existing action coordinative capacity Grosseto Support for policies from key actors Ideas and methods being used Communes follow some of the ideas in new plan-making exercise New methods of plan-making learned

Our case studies were selected as representing innovations in their countries. A final consequence of spatial plan-making in these instances is the scale of their influence on plan-making elsewhere. Most had also had an impact on national ideas about planmaking practices. The Lyon strategic plan has come to represent an example of a new style of planning in France. The Zürich case has provided an example for other Swiss cantons. The Friesland case is in the forefront of Dutch debates on “visionary” versus “consultative” approaches to plan-making. Marks Kommun is well known for its planning culture in Sweden, and Lancashire structure planning is seen as an example of

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good practice in England. Even the Grosseto case has been debated among planning professionals in Italy, and the Ørestad case has become a symbol of a new practice that deliberately breaks with a consensus-building approach of the past. In this way, the cases contribute not merely to the intellectual and social capacity locally; they also generate political capital, with the power to influence policy-thinking and planning methods and practices nationally. Driving forces In all the cases, social forces were being mobilized locally to enable political communities to meet new pressures on territorial organization and governance processes. We examined each of our cases to identify the forces that might be behind the pressures for change (Table 16.3), although these findings should be treated as indicative rather than comprehensive. These challenge the post-Fordist thesis that changes in governance respond to changes in economic organization, at least as a direct link. Economic forces are significant, most particularly the perception that cities and regions have to position themselves in a European territory. In cases such as Lyon and Lisbon, Bergen and Lancashire, this generated a new conception of the territory within which a place was located. But this impetus was linked as much to a political positioning in national space as to an economic positioning in European space. Lyon wanted to become a leader among cities in France. Bergen needed to shift national policy attention from rural to urban areas. A similar impetus was behind the Ørestad case, which shifted investment attention onto Copenhagen, after a long period of policy emphasis on the west of the country. Perhaps the main evidence of the force of economic pressures was in the transformation of the style of spatial planning, from allocating space for anticipated growth to stimulating economic development by proactive measures. Sociocultural pressures, as expressed in the powerful influence of environmentalist concerns, were at least as important as economic ones. A major challenge for most of the cases was how to reach a stable accommodation between environmental concerns and economic considerations. It was this pressure that made a proactive approach focused on promoting individual projects unacceptable to many stakeholders. Economic interests wanted a stable framework within which to operate. Environmentalists wanted a transparent governance process, capable of considering the long-term impact of resource usage.

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Table 16.3 The driving forces of spatial strategymaking. Forces

Ø

Ly

M Lb

z

B

La F

MK G

Economic Economic restructuring x x x Repositioning in Europe xx xxx x xxx x xxx x xx x Improving local business opportunities xx x xxx x Social movements Environmentalism xx xx xx xx xx xxx xx Public policy Financial reductions xx x xx Competition for national funds x xx xx New powers to regions/communes xxx xx xxx xx New national emphasis on planning xx xx Access to EU funds xx xx xx Local considerations Political priorities/dreams xxx xx xx xx xx xx Social needs/values x xx Balancing economy /environment x xxx x xx Local citizen pressure xx x xx Local business pressure x x x Better policies to help make key xx xxx xxx xxx decisions Strong planning culture xxx xxx Key: xxx=Strong influence; xx= Medium influence; x=Some influence B=Bergen/Hordaland; C=Copenhagen (Ørestad); F=Friesland; G=Grosseto; La=Lancashire; Lb=Lisbon: Ly=Lyon; M=Madrid; MK=Marks Kommun; Z=Zürich. Note: This table has been drawn up from the Workshop discussions and case study authors’ comments as well as from the chapters themselves.

These economic and sociocultural driving forces were combined with and mediated through public policy formation and implementation. A powerful impetus to the development of new approaches was the reorganization of government responsibilities, especially linked to decentralization (as in Lyon and Madrid). This reinvigorated local governance and provided political motivation and technical capacity to develop new approaches. A second powerful force was linked to financial issues. Where EU regional development funds were available, the requirements for a strategic approach imposed by DG XVI (the EU regional directorate) provided a strong impetus for developing strategies locally (as in Lancashire and Lisbon). Another financial factor fostering collaboration with the business sector was the reduction in public finance for local and regional development. As a result, public authorities sought partnership with private sector firms, developers and investors. This was strongly evident in the Ørestad case. A strategic approach was also sometimes helpful in the competition between regions and communes for national funds. Some of the elements of the public policy context can be traced back to the wider economic context (such as less money available from national

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government). However, by the time these wider forces come to impact on spatial strategy-making for the urban region, the relationship between economic forces and local governance becomes attenuated. These wider driving forces mesh in with forces within specific urban regions arising from the particular geographies and histories of places. Once again, political considerations are strongly evident, with the ambitions and “dreams” of key political actors having a powerful influence on the dynamics of strategic spatial plan-making. Other important factors include previous experience and the existence of a planning culture, the existing level of political and social consensus, the need to make key decisions in a legitimate way, and pressure from local people and businesses. It is clear from our cases that the efforts in strategic spatial plan-making were responding both to external forces and to local pressures. Local dynamics and conflicts were often “lifted up” from the context of local debates and re-expressed in terms of wider rhetorics, such as that of repositioning in European space, or the imagery of a new district, as in Gran Sur in Madrid. But the form and content of the particular plan-making exercise, and its outcomes, are inherently localized, and, because wider forces are meshed into the particularities of places, are likely to be locally distinctive. The common pressures on spatial planning systems are, thus, difficult to identify in the particular forms and contents of planning practices. These forms and contents are the outcomes of social processes shaping the dynamics of practices. Commonality must instead be traced in the internal dynamics of the processes themselves. With this caveat, we can now comment on two questions. First, are the processes of strategic spatial plan-making central to the formation of local alliances concerned about the qualities of places, or are they marginal? Secondly, is a new spatial planning approach evolving in contemporary Europe and does this link to the emergence of new governance “regimes”?1 Our case studies look at the local world through the dynamics of plan-making processes and probably exaggerate the influence of local factors. However, in several cases it is clear that plan-making provided a key arena for the articulation of new alliances and the evolution of new governance approaches. Plan-making was thus at the heart of local institutional capacity-building. The Lyon and Lisbon cases are the most striking examples, but others where this seemed to be the case include Madrid, Zürich and Marks Kommun. This suggests that, in certain circumstances, the institutional arenas and political dynamics of strategic spatial plan-making can come to play a central role in local governance. The factors that encourage this include decentralized government systems giving strong power to local entities; potentially conflicting interests among stakeholders with sufficient power to stall each other unless involved in a strategic exercise; external sources of finance, which demand a transparent, strategic approach; strong local political commitment; the fact that spatial planning is concerned with concrete places, which means that it can be used to develop local identities; and a local governance culture that understands the spatial dimensions of 1. There is growing interest in urban political analysis of the role of local political “regimes” in structuring local policy processes (Stone 1989, Judge, Stoker & Wolman 1995, Harding 1996).

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activities and their impacts, which is prepared to think long term and to adopt a transparent policy-driven approach. In some regions and some countries, these factors have been continuously present in recent decades. It is in such contexts that the broad and deep planning cultures of Marks Kommun and Friesland have developed, transforming themselves to accommodate new contents (environmentalism in particular) and new processes. The dynamics of local and regional governance elsewhere have been less favourable to such a cultural development. Local power has in the past been more limited (in Lyon, Madrid, Lisbon and Lancashire), too fragmented (in Zürich) or too opaque (Grosseto). Or the planning culture that has developed has not been able to accommodate new pressures (for business development in Bergen or for major infrastructure projects in Copenhagen). This leads to a key question about spatial planning in late twentieth-century Europe. Are the cases we have examined, selected for their innovative qualities, signs of the emergence of a new planning approach within local governance in Europe? If so, is this planning approach characterized by a strategic, spatially aware, proactive collaborative and transparent way of articulating enduring frameworks and decision principles for development investment and regulation? In other words, and with due regard to the inherent variability in the form and content of strategic spatial plan-making activity, is a new “regime” of local governance being invented in Europe in which proactive, collaborative spatial planning plays a central role? There are indeed some signs that the tendencies presented in this book are part of a wider change in local governance forms and processes (Batley & Stoker 1991, Jessop et al. 1991, Goldsmith 1993, Harding 1996). Many commentators suggest that European local governance has become more proactive and entrepreneurial than in the past, when it was more concerned with welfare considerations and improving quality of life (see Ch. 2). These wider changes are a response in part to the challenges presented by economic, social and governance changes across Europe, which demand operational attention to many issues that have a spatial dimension. They also arise from local pressures to manage urban region environments in ways that meet the objectives of many stakeholders. Criteria-driven technical regulation at European or national scale cannot meet these challenges. But major questions remain over how deep and how broad such approaches to strategic spatial plan-making are likely to be. They challenge many established practices, they require considerable capacity-building effort to make them work well, and they require people to create enduring frameworks with some stability in the face of the current dynamic economic, social and political worlds. They also force political attention to the relations between economic development, social considerations and environmental quality, which may create difficult pressures for political groups and technical staff. The European experience The institutional approach we have used for this research has allowed us to focus on strategic spatial plan-making as a social process through which local communities respond to internal and external challenges with respect to the management of local environments. In doing so, local communities build new strategic ideas and policy

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discourses (intellectual capital), build institutional relations (social capital); and mobilize political support (political capital). Through these processes, active stakeholders in urban regions combine in an attempt to exercise power over the forces and pressures in which they are embedded, in an attempt to confront and shift structural power arising from economic and political forces. Despite the uniqueness of urban regions, as places and political communities, our cases show a distinctive western European institutional inheritance within which this capacity-building is taking place. There is much that does not have to be argued about or struggled for. First, in most countries there is an institutional inheritance that provides arenas and powers for strategic spatial planning above the level of the commune, and a legal and ideological inheritance that accepts the legitimacy of public intervention for the common good, while recognizing that private rights must also be protected. There is, thus, institutional capital (organizational and discursive) to draw upon as new strategic spatial plan-making practices are developed. Secondly, there is a deep and longstanding appreciation of the distinctive qualities of places as cultural phenomena to be recognized and conserved. These qualities are more than merely assets to be marketed. They are part of the identity of the people and firms in a place. An understanding of place and spatiality thus pervades not merely planning discourse but also governance discourses more widely. Thirdly, both of these characteristics provide the basis for a distinctive European experience in the relations between state and market, public and private sectors, with respect to spatial organization and land and property development. In all the cases examined, public policy, development and investment processes are interrelated, in both policy articulation and delivery. Evolving out of a welfare state inheritance, European planning and governance systems are turning proactive and developmental. It is possible that these might go down the path of the civic “boosterism” and corruption, which often permeate planning systems where short-term considerations and patronage politics dominate. There are even tendencies in this direction in European countries where local governments have recently acquired greater powers and autonomy. But this possibility is constrained by traditions of concern about places, of national and regional interest in local decisions, and of a law and politics that require accountability and increasingly demand transparency. Thus, it can be argued that there is a distinctive western European model of spatial planning, within which strategic spatial plan-making is valued and encouraged. Its elements are a strong role for the public sector in regulation and investment; policy processes that draw in many stakeholders to shape and deliver policy agendas; an appreciation of the interrelation of the economic, environmental and social dimensions of urban region change; and experience of making and working with models of spatial development that coordinate the policies of many different sectors linked to a strong “sense of place” and an awareness of how policy process and product interrelate. In areas where this model is well developed, existing practices are being adapted to meet new challenges and, in particular, to move from allocative and regulative approaches towards proactive and facilitative approaches. In areas where it is less well embedded, transformations are under way to implant the model firmly within governance systems that are themselves transforming. This can be seen in post-dictatorship Spain and

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Portugal, and in the moves towards government decentralization in Britain’s urban regions. Whether or not there is a western European model of spatial planning systems, it is clear from our cases that there are many pressures combining to make urban region stakeholders reassess the way spatial organization and environmental quality are managed locally, and that this is happening in contexts where there are new stakeholders and new organizations. The analysis and cases in this book should help those practically involved in these processes to probe their own institutional contexts and ask more perceptive questions. In particular, it should help those analysts and actors committed to the normative concerns that underpin our work (see Ch. 1). We think it is desirable for actors in urban regions to attend carefully to the interrelationships between economic, social and environmental pressures as these affect the qualities of particular places. We also think that a strategic view of these relations as they may evolve over time is helpful to many stakeholders in present conditions. In our judgement, consideration of process and product needs to be closely interrelated in spatial planning. Approaches to managing spatial change that deliberately limit involvement to those in the public sector, or to a narrow alliance of public sector and business interests, are likely to cause harm to certain groups and interests unless they take place within a culture that expects transparency and can always demand participation. So, we would argue that a collaborative and locally based planning culture be built up. Such a culture, developed in a context where national and regional levels of governance also have a chance to exercise influence, has the capacity to develop a rich, broadly based understanding of stakeholders’ concerns. We would suggest that this provides the opportunity, from time to time, for efficient technical exercises in strategic planning, as in Friesland. We would commend the efforts at strategic collaboration among many social partners, which has developed in Lyon and Lisbon, and hope opportunities are created in these processes for citizen groups to present their views. And we look forward to the development in other places of the kind of institutional capacity evident in the small district of Marks Kommun, which can transform itself collaboratively to meet new challenges. Europe’s urban regions increasingly need the institutional capacity to maintain and improve their quality of life and environment, and to enhance their economic effectiveness. This requires the capacity to relate economic, social and environmental dimensions of urban region change, combined with the ability to respond to new situations through locally articulated strategies that involve a wide range of partners in policy formulation and realization. The case studies described and analyzed in this book show how this may be done. References and further reading Batley, R. & G.Stoker 1991. Local government in Europe. London: Macmillan. Bryson, J. & B.Crosby 1992. Leadership in the common good: tackling public problems in a shared-power world. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Goldsmith, M. 1993. The Europeanisation of local government. Urban Studies 30, 683–700. Harding, A. 1996. European urban regimes. Paper presented at CURDS Seminar, University of Newcastle upon Tyne, March.

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Jessop, B, H.Kastendiek, K.Nielsen, I.K.Pedersen (eds) 1991. The politics of flexibility: restructuring state and industry in Britain, Germany and Scandinavia. Aldershot, England: Edward Elgar. Judge, D., G.Stoker, H.Wolman 1995. Theories of urban politics. London: Sage. Stone, C. 1989. Regime politics: governing Atlanta 1946–1988. Lawrence: University of Kansas Press.

INDEX action planning 25, 85, 129–30, 145, 167, 200 actors 14, 23, 161–2, 197–9, 218–20, 255–6, 274 communication between 104, 220 definition 242n mobilization 111 role 22, 104–6, 216, 256 urban region 294 see also industrialist; participant; politician; stakeholder; agent ADERLY 241 administration public see under public tiers of 14, 97, 108, 118, 137, 155 Agence d’Urbanisme 71 agency 5, 14, 269–75 active role 22 economic 241 key 79, 120–1, 195 agenda-setting 255–67 see also under policy agent 100, 102, 234–7, 242n, 243, 244–5 dominant 243, 247–8 innovation 242–52 private 247, 249, 252 agglomeration 59n, 65, 66, 67, 70, 72, 74, 276 agglomeration 64n Agricultural and Ranching Zones, Protected 87 agriculture 87, 96n, 193, 212, 213, 214–15, 219 airport 68, 70, 75, 129, 191 alliance 43, 143, 159, 162, 167, 169, 291 see also network allocative planning 234, 235, 241 Amager 40, 44, 49, 52 Antwoordnota Streekplan Friesland 1994 181 architect 14, 27, 55, 92, 103, 108 arena 255 formal 101 informal 101 institutional 157, 285 Aria, Felix 89 ARPEGIO 79, 83, 90, 92 articulation 23

Index

279

horizontal 95, 110, 161, 167 policy 31, 83–4, 201–2, 219, 260, 261–2 vertical 95, 107, 110 Assessore all’Urbanistica 218, 226 attention-shaping 260, 283 autonomy 57, 71, 78, 156, 159 axis, favoured 68, 71, 87, 90, 121, 122, 160 Barcelona 82n bargaining approach 29, 159, 160, 256, 257, 259, 260 Basel 124 Bergen 138, 142, 144, 280, 283–9 case study 17, 135–52, 287–9 driving force 289–93 as locomotive of Hordaland County 137, 140, 143, 261 Bergen City Council 143, 147 Bergen Comprehensive Municipal Plan 139–40 Bergen Municipality 148, 271 Bern 124 Bjerregaard, Ritt 57 Bjurholm 191 Borås 191, 200, 201 Britain 27, 28, 30, 32, 155, 156 centralism 153, 157, 170 decentralization 167, 294 public policy 27, 28, 43, 158, 169, 286 shift 161, 165, 168 British Aerospace 153 building permit 194, 210, 217 business sector 127, 150–1, 157, 159, 291 Lancashire County 157, 162, 168, 169 Lisbon 105 Switzerland 120–1, 123, 126, 131 see also private sector canton 61–2, 120 cantonal background information report 118 guiding plan 118, 119, 120, 129 Zürich 115, 120, 121–3, 125 Cantonal Spatial Planning Office (Switzerland) 120 capacity constraint 5 institutional 23, 32, 170, 283–95 capital accumulation 8 capitality, levels of 106 car access 117, 118, 123, 128 Cattani, Emmanuel 126 centralization 56, 153, 157, 170, 205, 249, 258 certainty 31 Chicago 270n

Index

280

Chieffi, Stefano 223 CIAT (Interministry Committee for Territorial Planning) (France) 64 citizens’ movement 81, 85, 92, 93 collaboration 30, 32–3, 108, 284–5, 286, 288–9 industrialists, politicians and public administration 130, 150–1 Lisbon 110 regional 159 strategic 294 subregional 80 Zürich 125, 126 see also cooperation; coordination collaborative consensus building 32, 91–2 model 81 state 256 Collomb, Francisque 67 commitment 145, 275 Common Planning Premises Model 202, 204 communal planning 119 communauté urbaine 60, 61–2, 66, 70, 74 communications infrastructure 141 Communidad de Madrid 79, 84, 91, 93 competition European 8, 111, 129, 261, 263, 264 international 83, 111, 128, 131 between metropolitan areas 125, 214 national resources 168 spatial 255 competitiveness 106, 126 complexity 98, 252, 255 comprehensive rational approach 202, 256, 257, 259 compromise 131, 178, 179, 186 concertatión 81–2, 85, 90, 91–2, 275 see also consensus-building conflict 218–19, 236, 260 environment and economy 128, 140, 146, 200, 213, 214 goal 186, 260–1, 262 handling 31, 32, 193, 195, 205 Consejería de Politica Territorial (Territorial Policy Department) 79, 82, 84, 91, 92 consensual myth 68, 277 consensus 3, 28, 74–5, 178–9, 217, 275 consensus-building 15, 28, 32, 91–2, 216, 275 collaborative 32–3 Grosseto 210, 219, 226 Lancashire County 160, 162, 166 see also concertatión constraint 210, 212 map 96n, 99 consultant 103, 185, 223, 255, 285 Lancashire County 158, 163 Lisbon 98, 105

Index

281

Marks Kommun 197, 204 consultation 102, 161, 186, 189 Friesland 179, 180, 183 public see under public context 5, 137, 274, 277–8 constrained 22 external 188, 280 political-institutional 5, 118–120, 194 socio-economic 117–18, 136, 192–3 convenio 82, 83, 90, 91n, 92 convention 217, 218–19 convergence hypothesis 252 cooperation 126, 127, 146, 148, 201, 204, 206 early 130 see also collaboration; coordination Coordinated Action Programme (Madrid) 81 coordination 32, 99, 104, 177, 223, 246, 262 horizontal 80, 175, 200, 285, 288–9 vertical 175, 288–9 see also collaboration; cooperation coordinator 103, 104, 105, 108, 110 Copenhagen 264, 275, 285–7, 287–9 case study on Ørestad 17, 39–58 Copenhagen City Council 50 Copenhagen Public Transport Company 50, 52 COPLACO (Madrid Metropolitan Area Planning and Co-ordinating Commission) 81, 82, 85 co-producer 274, 275, 279 corporatist state 28, 140 cost 31–2, 46, 182 see also finance county-level planning 137, 144, 155 COURLY (Communauté Urbaine Lyon) 60, 61, 66, 70 cross-border network 68, 117 culture building 286 Norway 131, 137 planning 234, 278–9, 292, 294 regional 84, 91 Danish Society for Conservation of Nature 53 Danish State Railways (DSB) 48, 52 data collection 167, 215 ownership 160, 168 database 157, 166 de Jong, Maarten 178 decentralization 10, 14, 26, 33, 249, 290 Britain 167, 294 France 61

Index

282

law 65 Lyon 70, 74, 260 Marks Kommun 196, 204 Switzerland 131 decision-making 235, 237, 240, 246 decision orientation 204, 206 de-industrialization 40, 59 democratic relations model continuous 252, 253 representative 252–3 demography 60, 193, 211–12 Denmark 11, 12, 14, 30, 42, 47, 48, 227 case study on Ørestad 17, 39–58 parliament 40, 44, 48–9, 50, 52 developer 29, 217 development 5, 31, 130, 211–12, 258 appropriate 40, 43, 47 autonomous company 275 economic 15, 149, 156 equal 40, 43 planning 56, 137, 148, 234 regulation 14, 156, 191 strategic location 68, 264 plan 95, 138, 140–4, 145–6, 150, 183 sustainable 7, 56, 132, 201, 215, 216–17, 266–7 see also sustainability uncontrolled 116–17 urban 181, 220 dialogue 66–7, 99, 178 discourse 23, 293 policy 23, 24, 157, 201–2, 220–2, 265–7 discussion phase 180 district planning 155, 156, 167 driving force of innovation 5, 17, 25, 131–2, 289–93 Friesland 188 Grosseto 213–14, 226 Lancashire County 168 Lisbon 110–12 Lyon 74–5 Madrid 93–4 Marks Kommun 206 Ørestad 56–8 Dyremose, Henning 44 ecological policy 132 standard 120, 128 economic force 289 growth 7, 77–8, 84, 212–13, 214, 234, 247

Index

283

market and planning 63 needs 93 organization 5, 21 recession 47, 77, 93, 117, 131, 192–3 restructuring 4–5, 7, 60 strategy 146, 160 effectiveness theorem 273n efficiency 99 Eide, Gunn Vivian 151 election platform 67, 74, 84, 261 Lisbon 98, 101, 105 Madrid 80, 83 employment 117, 143, 144, 154, 169, 183, 192, 242 enabling 10–13 engineer 14, 27, 66 England 11, 12–13, 14, 17, 29, 243 planning system 14–15, 16, 232n, 236 see also Britain; Lancashire County entrepreneurial approach 28 environment 28, 96n, 127, 161, 196, 214–15 conflict with economic growth 128, 140, 146, 200, 213, 214 European Union 15, 57, 96n, 159, 164, 261 Portugal 96, 106 sustainability 106, 118, 156, 157, 159, 164, 168 see also environmental Environment, Department of (DOE) 169 Environment, Ministry of (Denmark) 47, 50 Environment, Report on State of 167 environmental appraisal 167 audit 160 awareness 167, 198 constraint 7, 286 group 5, 7, 118, 123, 162, 169 impact 5, 222 issues 159, 174, 193–4, 200–1, 206, 212–13 policy 140, 149, 169, 175, 194, 195, 201, 241 protection 120, 209, 212, 213, 218, 220 see also environment Environmental Action Programme, Lancashire (LEAP) 157, 167, 168, 169 Environmental Forum 157, 159, 160, 162–3, 166, 167, 169 Environmental Protection, Office of 120 environmentalism 263, 264 equity 81, 157 Eurocity 68, 74 Europe changes in planning system 252–4 competition 8, 111, 129, 261, 263, 264 diversity 14, 231–2, 293 governance 7, 8, 293 metropolis 68, 125, 214

Index

284

position within 157, 163, 255 spatial planning model 294 see also European Union European Economic Area 136 European Union 3, 8, 40, 43, 77, 111, 213 Compendium of spatial planning systems 10 environmental issue 15, 57, 96n, 159, 164, 261 Europe 2000 39, 41, 50 Europe 2000+ 10, 39 funding 157, 159, 163, 168, 215, 255, 290–1 structural 8, 94, 111 Norway 136, 149 Regional Policy Objective 153 regionalism 261, 264 Swedish membership 195, 196, 204, 206 see also Europe externality effect 14 fast-tracking 12, 39 filière 7 finance 49, 50, 51, 52, 97, 143–4, 290–1 public 40, 51, 87, 174 see also cost; European Union funding Finance, Ministry of (Denmark) 51 Finland 12–13, 13, 14, 15 fiscal pressure 5, 12 flexibility 28, 53, 55, 92, 258 Florence-Prato-Pistoia Schema Strutturale 210, 215–16, 226 focusing issue 260 Folketing 40, 44, 48–9, 50, 51–2 Fordism 7, 8 fragmentation 9, 15, 26, 258 France 12, 14, 28–9, 32, 56–7, 61, 243 planning system 59–76, 232n, 236 see also Lyon Frederiksberg 39, 41 free market regulation 116 Friesland, Province of 239, 253, 260, 264, 271, 280, 294 agent 245, 247, 249, 251 case study 17, 173–89, 275–9, 287–9, 290–3 image 262 policy discourse 266 sectorialization 246, 262 temporal considerations 264, 265 territorial levels 246, 249 trends in spatial strategy-making 263, 283–7 General Plan of Urbanization for Lisbon (PGUL) 98n Geneva 124 Germany 10, 12, 28, 236

Index

285

Getafe 92 globalization of capital 43, 56, 136, 149, 258, 263 goal 81, 203–4, 215, 222 conflict 186, 260–1, 262 Göteborg 191, 193, 200 governance 7, 8–9, 10, 26, 291–2, 293 change 3, 26–7, 256 local see under local proactive 286 regional 9, 78 government 8, 26, 97, 156, 157, 158 reorganization 290 tiers of 14, 41, 78 Gran Sur 80, 81, 83, 84, 86–90 green audit 166, 167, 169 wall 220 grid system 107 Grosseto 238, 246, 248, 253, 283–7 agent 244, 247, 248, 249, 250, 252 case study 17, 209–27, 275–9, 287–9, 290–3 network 262, 264 policy agenda 219–22, 261 temporal considerations 265, 287 Group Prospective Analysis (GAP) 102 growth 47, 53, 153, 154, 163 and environment 164, 202 explosive 78, 96 private investment driven 104 guiding framework 13–14 see also under cantonal Health and Environment Protection, Department of (Sweden) 195, 196, 198 hierarchical system 9, 11, 15, 158 Hordaland County 149, 241, 253, 260–1, 263, 266 agent 242, 243, 245, 248, 249, 251, 252 case study 17, 135–52, 275–9 comparison of referents 239 temporal considerations 265 territorial levels 249 Hordaland County Council 143 horizontal articulation 95, 110, 161, 167 coordination 80, 175, 200, 285, 288–9 integration 103, 107, 170 network 98, 157, 159, 169, 248, 275 housing 78, 107, 146, 193, 200, 270n policy 27, 140, 206, 220 identity 157, 173, 219, 220–1, 286 image 74, 80, 220–1, 262, 266, 276

Index

driving force 82, 93, 99 institution-building 248 Lisbon 99, 100, 101, 106, 108, 112, 262 Madrid 88–9, 90, 91, 92 Marks Kommun 201 Immediate Action Programme 85 impact analysis 5, 167, 222 implementation 109–10, 149, 225, 235, 240–1 of new technology 97 industrial zone 117, 141, 143, 145, 149 industrialist 130, 150–1 industry 78, 149 see also business sector; private sector infrastructure development 5, 31, 51, 85, 120, 206, 220 investment 5, 31, 83, 195, 200 organization 27 policy 201 innovation 106–7, 232–3 agenda-setting 267 agent 242–52 business sector involvement 126 development planning in Denmark 56 and evolution of referent 237–42 institutional 24, 199, 232–3 Grosseto 217–18 Hordaland County 148–9 Lancashire County 158, 169–70 Lisbon 101–3 Lyon 66–7, 72–4 methodological 70–1, 166, 176, 210, 280 instability 255 institution 78, 162, 248 institutional arena 157, 285 capacity 23, 32, 170, 283–95 capital 23, 28, 29, 280, 287, 288, 293 complexity 98 culture 286 evolution 80 innovation 199 see under innovation relations of plan-making 17, 24, 126–7, 231–54 Friesland 177–82, 188 Grosseto 217–19, 224 Lancashire County 158–63, 169–70 Lisbon 101–7 Lyon 64–7 Madrid 81, 82 Marks Kommun 196–9 Ørestad 47–51

286

Index

287

trajectory 26, 284 institutionalist approach 21–33 instrumentation theory 273n integration 150, 151, 177 horizontal 95, 103, 107, 170 intellectual capital 23, 170, 188, 286, 289 interactive planning 256, 257 intercommunality 61n, 74 Interest Group of Zürich Companies 120–1 international capital movement 43, 56, 63, 136, 149, 258 competition 83, 111, 128, 131 intervention 246, 276n investment 4, 127, 159 priority 164 see also European Union funding; finance ironic state 55, 57 Italy 12, 209, 210, 213, 217, 224, 225, 227 see also Grosseto Jaussely, Leon 82n knowledge 23, 32, 108, 168, 224 store of 186, 187, 189 Kokstad 142 kommunedelplan 138, 139, 146, 147, 149, 150 kommuneplan 138 Lancashire County 241, 252–3, 260–1, 262, 280 agenda setting 259 agent 242, 243, 244, 248, 250 private 247, 249, 252 case study 17, 153–71, 241, 275–9, 287–93 comparison of referents 238 policy discourse 266 sector-based approach 246 spatial organization 263, 264 temporal considerations 265 trends in spatial strategy-making 284–7 Lancashire County Council 153, 271 Lancashire Enterprise Ltd. 156, 241 Lancashire Environmental Action Programme (LEAP) 157, 167, 168, 169 Lancashire Environmental Forum 157, 159, 160, 162–3, 166, 167, 169 Lancashire Structure Plan 160, 164 land development process 29 distribution 63 Land Use and City Planning Law (Spain) 79 Land Uses Map 96n Landås 139, 142, 146–8, 147, 150

Index

288

Landscape and Countryside Plan (Piani Paesistici) 209 land-use 79, 96, 175, 263 map 96n, 99, 108 plan 5, 118, 119, 175, 199 regulation 4, 9, 11 language use 163, 184 Larsen, Henning 55 law, planning 5, 12, 33, 65, 213, 252, 254 Britain 155 change 232 Denmark 39, 40 Italy 209, 210, 213 Netherlands 174, 175 Portugal 96 regional 81, 82 Spain 79, 81, 82, 91n, 92 Sweden 194, 196 Switzerland 121 see also regulation Leeuwarden 173, 183 life-style 5, 127, 212 Lisbon 238, 240, 253, 261, 262, 263, 264, 294 agenda setting 259 agent 242, 244, 247, 248, 249, 250 case study 17, 95–114, 275–9, 288–93 environmental priority 241 planning system 14 policy discourse 266 social imbalance 260 territorial levels 246 trends in spatial strategy-making 284–7 Lisbon, Municipality of 271 Lisbon, Plans of (50, 60, 70) 102n lobbying 5, 168, 198 local governance 8–9, 30, 75, 120, 158, 194, 202, 204–5 France 62–3, 74 Italy 213, 217 impact 125–6 plan 79, 101, 111, 155, 175, 218 see also kommunedelplan; Schema Strutturale pressure 291 see also municipal; municipality Local Agenda 21 strategy 167 location 5, 183–4 industry 27, 200 quality 120, 127, 131–2 restraint 163 strategic 68, 73, 141, 164, 165, 264

Index

289

Lyon 241, 252–3, 254, 261, 280, 294 agent 242, 243, 244, 248, 250 private 247, 249, 252 case study 17, 59–76, 275–9, 288–93 closed plan-making 280 comparison of referents 238 image 262 policy discourse 266 rationalization of decision-making 240 sector-based approach 246 social imbalance 260 spatial organization 263 territorial levels 249 trends in spatial strategy-making 283–7 Lyon 2010 63–4, 66, 67, 68, 70, 72 Maastricht Treaty 39, 40 Madrid 78, 240, 252–3, 260, 262, 263 agent 244, 247, 248, 250 case study 17, 77–94, 275–9, 287–9, 290–3 comparison of referents 238 policy agenda 80–1, 83–5, 261 temporal considerations 264, 265 territorial levels 249 trends in spatial strategy-making 283–7 Madrid Gran Sur 80, 81, 83, 84, 86–90 Madrid Region Metropolitan 80, 83, 84, 87 Mangada, Eduardo 83, 84, 91, 94 Maremma 213, 219, 223 market accessibility 266 management 195, 256, 287 opportunity 8 speculative 104 Marks Kommun 253, 263, 264, 266, 284–7, 295 agenda setting 259 agent 245, 248, 249, 251 attention-shaping 260 case study 17, 191–207, 241, 275–9, 288–9, 290–3 comparison of referents 239 planning-8 202, 204, 275, 289 sectorialization 246, 262 temporal considerations 264, 265 media 49, 75 meta-solution 263, 264 method 11, 17, 25, 47, 269–81, 272, 280 Friesland 176, 185–7, 187 Grosseto 222–4 Lancashire County 162, 166, 169 Lisbon 103–4, 107–10 Lyon 70–2

Index

290

Madrid 90–2 Marks Kommun 202–4 Ørestad 53–5 theory of choice 269–75 Zürich 129–30 see also planning process methodology 272, 279 metropolis, European 68, 81, 125, 214 Metropolitan Council (Denmark) 42, 48 metropolitan planning 77–94, 81 migration to cities 40, 77, 136, 211–12 international companies 132 minerals extraction 161, 162, 163, 166 mini-metro 52, 53 Ministère de l ‘Equipement (France) 64 mobility increased 107, 124 reduced 118, 181, 184, 200 moral position 23 multinational company 116 municipal administration 99, 100, 102, 195 autonomy 43, 97, 138, 178 master plan 95, 96, 99, 101, 102, 110 regulation 108–9 team 100, 104, 105, 107–8 urban intervention 106 plan 41–2, 79, 96, 98, 137, 138, 139–40, 150 see also local; municipality Municipal Physical Planning Department (Landås) 147 municipality 39, 97, 187, 191, 194 alliances 43, 46 planning monopoly 194 role in metropolitan area 111, 148, 271 see also local; municipal National Agriculture Reserve (NAR) 96n National Ecological Reserve (NER) 96n Natural Resources Act (Sweden) 194, 196, 199 nature conservancy 53, 194, 200, 202, 203 Nature Conservancy Plan 203 negotiation 12, 130, 178, 196 negotiative network 14 planning 80, 198, 205, 275 state 12, 26–9, 256 neighbourhood principle 272n

Index

291

quality 27 neoliberalism 5, 11, 30–1, 127, 242, 256, 258 NERA electronics 145 Netherlands 11, 13, 28, 32, 189 agenda setting 259 Dutch Randstad 27 planning system 15, 176, 177 see also Friesland network horizontal 98, 157, 159, 169, 248, 275 perspective 274n see also alliance node 106, 107 Noir, Michel 67 North Sea Commission 143 North West Business Leadership Team 157, 159, 160 North West Regional Association (NWRA) 157, 159, 160, 163 Norway 11, 14, 15, 143, 148 see also Hordaland County Norwegian School of Economics and Business Administration 139 Nouvel, Jean 126 options phase 180 Ørestad 239, 240, 253, 262, 266, 280 agent 243, 245, 247, 249, 251 case study 17, 39–58, 275–9, 289–93 economic agenda 241 policy agenda 51–2, 261 sector-based approach 246 spatial organization 263 territorial levels 246 ØRESTAD Company (Ørestadsselkabet) 46 Ørestad Corporation 52, 53 Ørestad Law 52, 53 Øresund Link 40, 48–9, 50, 51 organization 242, 276 internal 179–80 orientation phase 180 towards capital city 68 outcome 287–9 parliament, Danish 40, 44, 48–9, 50, 52 participant 101, 104, 110 see also actor participation 29, 199, 210, 215, 217 broad 148, 150 business sector 121, 145, 146, 216 early 112, 139 Lisbon 98, 99, 105

Index

292

public see wider public performance 274, 277, 279 criteria 31, 216 model 280 perspective 274n PGUL (General Plan of Urbanization for Lisbon) 98n Physical Environment Management Plan (Madrid) 81 physical planning 46, 81, 85, 137, 147, 177 Physical Planning Committee (Hordaland County) 151 Piani Paesistici (Landscape and Countryside Plan) 209 Piani Regolatori Generali 220 Piano Territoriale di Coordinamento Intercommunale (PTC) 209, 210, 223–7 place 293 interrelational capacity 11 quality of 5, 31 sense of 294 place-making 286 plan adoption 273 culture 84, 91 local see under local preliminary 180 presentation see presentation social world 23 Plan Board 103 Plan d’Occupation des Sols (POS) 61n, 63, 64, 67, 72, 74 Plan for Water Resources 203 plan-led approach 11, 29, 105, 111, 168, 169, 277 plan-making 11, 102, 159, 176, 182, 189, 285 chronology 214–15 closed 188, 280 institutional relations see under institutional strategic 5, 21–2, 169 team 158 planner 109, 112–13, 149, 163, 255 role 24, 92, 98, 186, 223–4, 243, 280 planning crisis 241 culture 234, 278–9, 292, 294 framework 214, 222 literature 22, 27 policy 149–50 national Britain 155, 156, 158, 161, 165, 168 Denmark 40, 41 Netherlands 176, 177, 181 Norway 148 Sweden 194 post-war convergence 249 principles 72, 73, 217 process 100, 109, 112, 130, 131, 148, 197–9 see also method

Index

293

spatial see under spatial strategy 269–81 subject 269n system 6, 13–16, 33, 82, 231–4, 236, 237, 240–1 Britain 155 Denmark 41–3, 227 Europe 233–4, 252–4 literature 11 Switzerland 115, 118 theory 29 tiers of administration 14, 97, 108, 118, 137, 155 tradition 27–8, 89, 195–6, 204, 206, 224, 225, 286 trends 111 planning-8 202, 204, 275, 289 Planning and Building Act (1985) (Norway) 138, 139, 147, 148, 150 Planning and Building Act (1987) (Sweden) 194, 198 Planning and Territorial Administration, Ministry of (Portugal) 102 Planning Guidelines, Regional (Madrid) 81 Planning Report, National (Denmark) 41, 47 plot-ratio standard 128 pluralism 15, 257, 260 policy agenda 17, 24, 30–1, 177, 224, 259–61, 271 France 67–70 Friesland 182–5 Grosseto 219–22, 261 Lancashire County 162, 163–6 Lisbon 106–7 Madrid 80–1, 83–5, 261 Marks Kommun 199–202 Ørestad 51–2, 261 Zürich 128–30 articulation 31, 83–4, 201–2, 219, 260, 261–2 content 5, 84, 149–50, 177–8, 222 discourse 23, 24, 157, 201–2, 220–2, 265–7 guidance 14, 169 literature 255 priority 72, 73, 98, 156 process 106, 160, 216, 255 spatial 15, 84, 126, 188, 283–9 theory 24, 184, 222, 274, 279 policy-action link 259 policy-driven plan 166 political balance 78, 94, 169 shift 56, 57, 110–11, 227, 258 capital 23, 92, 289 discourse 90–1 involvement 8, 23, 57, 91, 206 organization 5, 6, 21, 132, 136 support 108, 110, 112, 179–80, 210, 254

Index

294

territoriality 57 uncertainty 42, 204, 213–14 politician 31, 150–1, 197–8, 243, 255, 285, 291 British 157, 161 cooperation 130, 148 links with technical staff 75, 85, 243 politics 78, 80, 93, 148, 155, 193, 261 of accommodation 188 Switzerland 120, 123, 132 pollution 159, 193–4, 201 polycentric state 55 urban network 123–4, 125, 127, 128, 129, 131, 263–4 population 39 development 147 redistribution 60–1, 155 Portugal 14, 15–16, 294 see also Lisbon post-Fordism 7, 8, 256, 289 post-modernism 7, 256 postponement 186, 276 power of agency 175 base 23 inequality 178 relations 21, 29 presentation 71, 105, 108, 148, 276 Friesland 177, 184–5, 185, 187–8 Grosseto 223 Lancashire County 158, 166, 167 Lisbon 97–8, 109, 112 pressure group 131–2, 198 private investment 127, 128, 132, 274 rights 5, 9, 14, 42 sector 204, 212 partnership 125, 291 relationship with public sector 5, 9, 12, 146, 148, 252 see also business sector privatization 26 pro forma 35–6 problem-solving rule 216 procedural analysis 255–6 issue 81–2, 255 planning model 200 theory 256–7 production relations 4–5 project-based approach 12, 29, 259 Projet d’Agglomération 65, 66, 67 property rights 5, 42

Index

295

value 10 prospective approach 65, 70–1, 102 provider state 9, 10–13, 26–9, 27–8, 256, 258 province 174, 175, 187, 210 Provincial Spatial Planning Committee 176 public administration 57, 246, 249 Hordaland County 150–1 tiers 14, 97, 118, 137 associations model 199 consultation 158 Lancashire County 165 Lisbon 102, 104 Lyon 75 Marks Kommun 197, 198, 205, 206 Netherlands 175, 186 Switzerland 120, 123 decision-making 235 development framing plan 127, 132 finance 40, 51, 87, 174 interest 9, 11, 14 intervention 14, 42, 84, 85 opinion 161, 178–9, 188, 189, 201, 275 participation 178–9, 276 Friesland 180 Norway 146, 148, 150 Switzerland 119 sector 11–12, 30, 232, 235, 236 relationship with private sector 5, 9, 12, 236, 252 transportation 50, 52, 121, 122, 128, 130 Public Works, Ministry of (France) 72 quality of life 7, 31, 118, 127, 212 quaternary sector 151 Rail 2000 123–4, 125, 127, 129, 262 railway 48, 51n, 52, 121, 122, 128, 129 Ramsar agreement 213 rational comprehensive planning theory 202, 256, 257, 259 planning 11, 272n rationality 272n rationalization 240, 246 recession 47, 77, 93, 117, 131, 192–3 redistribution policy 81 referent 234–42, 237–42, 253 Region Urbaine de Lyon (Urban Region of Lyon) 60, 65, 70 regional authority 9, 78, 97, 102, 157, 217 centre 183 development 55, 79, 129

Index

296

guidance 159, 160 identity 3, 157, 173 planning 79, 84 Britain 155 Denmark 41, 42, 43 Netherlands 174, 175, 177, 182 Norway 136–7 Spain 93 policy (European Union) 153 strategic alliance 162 Regional Co-ordination Commission 97, 102 Regional Development Fund, National (Norway) 143 regionalism 196, 261, 264 regulation 13–16, 31 development 9, 14, 156, 191 free market 116 land-use 4, 9, 11 technical 30–2 see also law representative model 254 responsibility 67, 131 reticent policy 183 Rhône département 61, 62 Rhône-Alpes region 59, 61, 62 Rieber Consortium 145 Rio Conference (1992) 132, 167n rural area 173, 182–3, 184 depopulation 136 planning 181 Satolas airport 68, 70, 75 Scandinavia 28 see also individual countries Schéma directeur 60–4, 66, 67, 69, 70–2, 74, 75 Schéma directeur d’Aménagement et d’Urbanisme (SDAU) 64, 66, 67, 70–1 Schema Strutturale 209–27 Schlüter, Poul 40, 48 Schmidheiny, Stephan 132 scrapbook planning 177 sectoral planning 120, 127, 210, 248 sectoralization 170, 236, 246, 262 SEPAL 65, 66–7, 67, 72, 271 service sector 4–5, 30, 117 settlement policy 168 shared power world 21, 97 understanding 178, 179, 187, 189 shopping centre 116 social capital 23, 170, 188, 286, 288, 289

Index

297

contract 130 democracy 151, 258 diversity 198 dynamics 21 engineering 253 equilibrium 59, 61, 70 force 289 imbalance 40, 93, 96, 260 interaction theory 274 learning 149, 150 mobilization 23 network resources 23 relations 231 service policy 106 Società Autostrade Tirreniche (SAT) 226 sociocultural pressure 290 solution-finding 130 space management 61 marketing 258, 263, 266 urban 72 see also spatial Spain 14, 15–16, 28, 32, 78, 294 in European Union 77, 83 negotiative state 12, 29 see also Madrid spatial change, managing 294 classification 266 coherence 256, 271–2, 273 coordination 120, 130 development 11, 68 organization 4, 17, 84–5, 120, 199–201, 220, 263–4 planning 3, 4, 9–13, 116–17, 132, 179, 255 common elements 202, 204, 233, 234, 291 framework 286–7 national organization 41, 176, 181, 189 post-war 233, 234, 235, 241 priority 241–2 rolling 264 Western European model 294 policy 15, 84, 126, 188, 283–9 theory 257–8 see also territorial Spatial Plan for Intercommunal Coordination(PTC) (Italy) 209, 210, 223–7 Spatial Planning, Committee for (Friesland) 179 Spatial Planning, Federal Office of (Switzerland) 119 Spatial Planning Act, Federal (Switzerland)118, 129 Spatial Planning Act (Netherlands) 175, 270n Spatial Planning Agency, National(Netherlands) 189 Spatial Planning Committee, National 181 Spatial Planning Perspective, National(Denmark) 41

Index

298

Spatial Planning Report (1992) (Switzerland) 121 spatiality 246, 293 stakeholder 30, 32, 138, 148, 150, 160, 217 see also actor; participant statutory plan 270n Stavanger 145 Steiner, G.A. 138 Stockholm 191, 195 strategic 143 action 178 model 146 philosophy 162 planning 10, 16–17, 59–76, 103, 204, 206 model 138–9, 145, 149, 150 see also under development Strategic Economic Plan (Bergen) 139, 151 Strategic Planning Department (Lisbon) 98 structural change 117, 192 force 56 planning 42, 160, 164, 193, 205, 225 structuration theory 22–3 Structure Plan, Lancashire 160, 164 structuring dynamics 22–3, 25 subject plan 118 subsidy 31, 136–7, 153 substantive theory 273n Sulzer Company 125–6, 127, 132 supervision 55, 177, 187 support mobilization 277 political 108, 110, 112, 179–80, 210, 254 public 279 sustainability 106, 118, 156, 157, 159, 164, 168 see also under development; environment Sweden 11, 32, 194, 196, 199, 258 Øresund Link 40, 48 see also Marks Kommun Swedish Association of Local Authorities 202, 204–5 Swiss City 123–4, 248 Swiss Railway Company 129 Swiss spatial development, Guidelines for 118, 123, 125 Switzerland 14, 15, 115, 118, 123–5, 129 see also Zürich SWOT analysis 138–9, 141, 150, 222, 223 systems approach 217 technical approach 28

Index

299

commission 102 regulation 30, 32 relationships 236 staff 236, 243, 253 relations with politicians 75, 85, 243 role 71, 72, 248, 252, 253 team 107 technopolis project 68 telecommunications infrastructure 5 temporal considerations 220, 255, 256, 258–9, 264–5 see also time territorial equilibrium 89–90 level 246, 249 policy 64, 79, 81, 83, 92 Territorial Planning, Interministry Committee for (France) 64 Territorial Policy Department (Italy) 79, 82, 84, 91, 92 Territorial Strategy, Regional Plan for (Madrid) 79, 81, 83 tertiary activity 106 third sector 9, 26 time 24, 129 timescale 156, 287 timing 267 Total Transportation Services (TTC) 145 tourism 212, 215, 219, 220 town cramming 164 planning system 42 township 137, 138, 147 transnationalization 266 transport 70, 160, 162, 168, 184, 220 cost 143, 263 infrastructure 5, 46, 48, 146, 215 policy 107, 128, 168 transportation 107, 141, 143, 144, 260, 263 planning 127, 164 public 50, 52, 121, 128, 130, 157 Tuscany Region (Regione Toscand) 209–27 Tyrrhenian Corridor 215 uitwerking (postponement) 186 uncertainty 12, 204, 255, 256, 258–9, 265 understanding 23, 178–9 unemployment 43, 60, 136, 206, 234, 242 structural 93, 241 urban containment 263 development 3 inward 121, 125, 128, 149, 260, 263 zone 183, 184 growth 44–6, 60, 193, 199–200, 247

Index

300

node 183 planner 55 planning 46–7, 61, 62–3, 63, 71, 74, 194 policy 105, 106, 107, 182 quality 87 region dynamics 4, 6–10, 110 renewal 60–1, 72, 81, 117, 125–6, 127, 132 space 72, 111 sprawl 116–17, 122, 140 Urban Agency of the Urban Community of Lyon (COURLY) 65 Urban Region of Lyon 60, 70 urbanization, controlling 72 USA 11 value-added chain 7n vertical articulation 95, 107, 110 coordination 175, 288–9 decision-making 246 integration 95 relationship 166, 285 village 106–7, 173, 183, 184, 212 visionary model 24, 101, 185, 189, 248, 259 Wadden Sea 182–3 water management policy 175, 203 pollution 193 welfare delivery 7–8 objective 14 state 6, 11, 27, 77, 138, 204, 233, 242 system 42 Willke, Helmuth 56–7 Winterthur 122, 125–6, 127, 131, 132, 148 workbook 146, 147, 149 workfare state 8 World Wildlife Fund 213 Würtzen, Hans 48 Würtzen Committee 48, 49–50, 53 zonal strategy 83, 84, 85, 92, 94n, 263 Zone d’Aménagement Concerté (ZAC) 29, 67, 276 zoning 10, 11, 82n, 96, 116–17 map 216, 217, 225 Zürich 238, 248, 249, 253, 260, 263, 264, 265 agent 244, 247, 248, 249, 250 case study 17, 115–33, 241, 275–9, 287–9, 290–3 coordination 262 external context 280 policy discourse 266

Index

sector-based approach 246 trends in spatial strategy-making 283–7 Zürich Cantonal Guiding Plan 120, 121–3, 125 Zürich Public Transport Management 130 Zürich-Kloten airport 129

301