What do we know about the middle class and the creation of place? This may seem like an odd question. Ken Reardon in his commentary in the Interface section observes how traditional participatory approaches “…tend to privilege the more highly educated and professionally trained members of local communities while marginalising others”, implying that the middle class are generally capable of representing their own interests. In terms of the goals and justifications for planning's interventions in land and property markets it is the alleviation of disadvantage, whether social, economic or environmental, which is taken as the focus of concern. Cynics may suggest that such altruistic objectives are little more than rhetorical flourishes, while sceptics doubt whether governmental activities can or wish to challenge the status quo. However, this does not remove the intention, wishful or otherwise, of seeking to create places which provide a better quality of life for all, and which in turn is assumed to mean emphasis on the needs and aspirations of the least advantaged. So why concern ourselves with the middle class? Surely, as Reardon implies, they look after themselves? Arguably, it is precisely because of their influence on global urbanisation patterns that understanding middle-class aspirations should be central to our analyses.
If the middle class can (and do) look after their interests, then to plan effectively for those seemingly being by-passed by the global market-place of opportunity, we need to understand middle-class motivations and actions. Similarly, if there is any veracity to the idea that markets are as much constructed through the choices of those with money to spend as they are the artifice of anonymous supply and demand curves, then it is the accumulation of these individual decisions: to live in a location with a very limited bus service or to shop at the local farmers’ market rather than Tesco (a UK supermarket chain), which significantly influence the opportunities, for good or bad, of the rest. Economics is premised on knowing about flows of capital and hence the (assumed) intentions of those with wealth, the included. In contrast, planning has tended to view its mission as different and separate from economics. However, for planners to focus on those communities that find themselves struggling for leverage within their localities without understanding the values and preoccupations of the world's ever-growing middle class, is to ignore those who exert a huge (perhaps the greatest) influence over the shaping of place and the opportunities of others. Moreover, it is through the actions of the middle class that the opportunities and options of the marginalised and excluded are limited. That is why, if the altruistic ambitions of planning have any meaning beyond simple rhetoric, we ignore the middle class at our peril. It is also why analysis is of so much significance that it should not be left in the hands of economists and accountants.
The cranes bedecking the skies of cities across the globe generally herald investment premised on expectations of middle-class spending patterns, unless nudged or cajoled into (slightly) different priorities through State expenditure. At the heart of middle-class life-styles is housing. A commodity which not only embodies bricks and mortar, cement and glass but, crucially from a planning perspective, concerns place. Or, as the real-estate industry has it, “location, location, location”! Housing choices represent an investment in an associated range of opportunities: schools, jobs, shopping and recreational facilities, even open space, the absence of pollution and, of growing significance, a sense of security. In an era when the mixed economy of post-war western Europe looks less and less mixed, understanding the preoccupations and desires of the middle class would seem to be crucial to the work of the planning community. This is exemplified in the opening two articles in this issue, which explore the processes of gentrification, not in traditional inner-city environments, but in rural Ireland and remote coastal communities in New Zealand. Middle-class aspirations have a reach and impact which display fewer and fewer boundaries, especially when multiple-home ownership extends beyond the expectations of a few aristocrats as well as the borders of nation-states.
However, if appreciating middle-class aspirations is crucial to understanding the processes and priorities shaping the nature of place, then so too is unpacking the diversity and tensions within this ever increasing, and powerful, grouping. I have so far referred to the middle class as if it is a singular and stable grouping. This is clearly not the case. Feminist writing has long highlighted that household income is a relatively poor indicator of the limits and possibilities of personal choice. The middle class is less one grouping than many: the anguished and the guilty, the ignorant and the uncaring. As internationally the middle class grows, generalisations become more and more problematic. However, rather than casting doubt on the need to understand the values and aspirations of this sector of society, it makes analysis increasingly important. Diversity and fluidity may mess up our neat stereotypes, but diversity suggests tensions, and tensions potentially open up space for new or alternative discourses. The search for such spaces lies at the heart of effective planning.
Undoubtedly, some really important work has been undertaken, focused on better understanding of the “everyday lives” of the most marginalised, especially in the context of the global South. These studies challenge us to see such individuals not as victims but people with the capacity to create rich and varied lives even in the most wretched of circumstances. Similarly, following these lessons, we need to avoid falling into the trap of regarding middle class individuals as if they are merely victims of their spending preferences. Economics can tell us what people have or will consume given a tightly prescribed set of assumptions and circumstances. However, if there is any substance to the premise that markets are socially constructed, then attention needs to be turned to the possibilities of representing alternative futures and, in relation to the concerns of planning, the associated place-related consequences.
Why do the business and development sectors concern themselves so much with governmental policy if not because it has an influence over their investment decisions? Sadly, the narrative of “globalisation” has acted as a road-block on the imaginations of governments at all levels. The challenge for planners is to understand individual and corporate investment decisions and be ready to construct alternative agendas while crucially also being skilled in the art of effective argumentation. The test of whether there is the capacity, both locally and internationally, to dismantle the road-blocks of the imagination will be seen in responses to the social and environmental challenges of climate change. It is hard to conceive of an issue which more starkly highlights the relationship between individual life-style choices and the collective experience of place, particularly of resource-rich individuals, than climate change. How far alternative possibilities (and responsibilities) can be constructed will be central to diminishing the inequitable impacts of climate change.
The social justice and redistributive traditions of planning might suggest that as the middle classes are perceived to be well capable of voicing their interests and creating places which reflect their aspirations, then planners need not (even should not) concern themselves with understanding this sector of society. However, my sense is quite the reverse. Analysis of the impact of middle-class values and preoccupations on the reproduction of place is far too important to be ignored or simply left to economists, or worse still the real-estate industry. For without such knowledge, planners, no matter how well intentioned, will be entering policy and decision making arenas as if blind-folded. Knowledge brings with it greater capacity to challenge and hence re-form agendas.
The articles contained in this issue certainly provide planners with potentially valuable knowledge resources, even if some of the knowledge may be discomforting. As noted above, Mark Scott's and Claire Freeman and Christine Cheyne's papers are both concerned with the processes of gentrification and take as their context not traditional inner city environments, but rather, rural and coastal localities. Both examine the interactions between the local host community and more wealthy and mobile incomers, highlighting the resulting tensions and implications for planning. Scott's paper provides an intriguing insight into rural Ireland, more particularly a society in transition, as the effects of the largely urban-based prosperity of the phenomenon which is the “Celtic tiger” spill-over into the rest of Ireland. He traces the contested storylines about the nature of the “rural” through two case studies based in the west of Ireland. It is striking that in this case the local communities associate planning (and environmental groups) with an “outsider” perspective which is pro-protection and is perceived “to stop things happening”. In contrast, in the second paper based in New Zealand, local communities are concerned that planning is not doing enough to protect their interests in the face of the house-buying abilities of middle-class urbanites, and more especially, that house price rises are leading to the displacement of long-standing residents, including Maori communities for whom direct connection with ancestral land is of particular importance. The paper also acknowledges the potential positive benefits of incomers in relation to the support for local services. Scott, in the conclusion to his paper, ponders whether attitudes to the landscape and rural living in Ireland will change as the population changes. Might the view of the planners soon become the “insider” perspective? The two papers together provide both a fascinating insight into how the tentacles of urbanisation (middle-class aspirations) are spreading far and deep as well as how similar issues can become corralled into very different storylines. Sensitivity to both these concerns is vital if the arguments underlying the storylines of planners are to have any leverage.
The remaining two articles focus attention much more on planning processes than place-specific outcomes. Ernest Alexander's paper seeks to provide a framework for the analysis of public participation practices at what is referred to as the “meso” scale. Alexander stresses that his mission is not normative in nature, rather he is concerned to develop a framework with which to describe contemporary participatory practices. This he does using a case study of Israel, supported by comparative data drawn from the Netherlands, Britain and United States. Studies concerned with public participation abound in the literature, but what Alexander argues is that participation should be viewed in the round. That is to say, rather than focusing only on a single participatory event or series of events linked to planning, such practices need to be viewed in relation to the totality of opportunities for participation, involvement and representation within a particular community or society. While Alexander is mainly preoccupied with the most appropriate approach to undertaking research, his conclusion also has implications for those concerned with designing and implementing participatory events.
Raine Mäntysalo's paper shows what can happen when the processes of planning go badly wrong. He provides us with a rich and disconcerting story of criminal corruption, concerning a site in north-eastern Finland, that resulted in the conviction and imprisonment of a planner. He seeks to understand the case by developing a model of “power”. As in the case of corruption described by Ken Burley in issue 6(4), it is striking how far in such instances a vicious circle of self-serving stories evolves, which in turn crowd out other views and perspectives.
This issue of the journal marks the first in which the Interface section is edited by John Forester, our Editor for North America. The Interface combines Forester's unique approach of using interview material to highlight the subtleties of practice, with wonderful insight into the life and experiences of Tony Gibson, who was largely responsible for the development of the much celebrated and copied community involvement technique, Planning for Real. The interview then becomes the object of a series of commentaries by individuals who either worked with Gibson or have direct personal experience of community development initiatives in a wide range of contexts. Each are given the opportunity to pose a question to Gibson. However, it is the directness and immediacy of the interview itself which stands out. This narrative has a power seldom seen in academic writing and which it was hoped through the format of the Interface section this journal would promote. I noted above that the literature abounds with studies talking about public participation. This is not a piece of writing which merely “talks about” participation, it is about being there and attempting to make things happen, not at a distance or in an abstracted sense. The normative in this discussion is full on, yet also entirely practical. While participatory practices may not be regarded by all as planning's nirvana, few (if any) totally reject the goal of giving communities, particularly those that are disadvantaged, greater voice. If, as this suggests, participation has a role in planning, then we need to be concerned about how to do it better. This is precisely the focus of the interview with Gibson. This is not just “another article” about public participation.
Gibson is not a planner in the sense of having undertaken a planning education or being a member of a professional institute, however, his refreshing insights highlight how “outsiders” can help to dismantle the road-blocks (the taken for granted) which inhibit our individual and collective imaginations. This underlies why, in a different context, economics is too important to be left to economists.
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