Planning and the (re)appearance of Truth

Since reading the contributions that make up this issue of Planning Theory & Practice I have found myself returning to Frank Fischer's phrase, cited in Dag Leonardsen's article, “… an appearance of truth”. In essence, truth and its appearance bothers me (although as will become clear not quite in the same sense as Fischer). Moreover, it is striking how far the themes of truth, truths and truthfulness, whether implicitly or explicitly, run through all the subsequent contributions.

‘Truth’ may seem to be part of arcane intellectual debates and hence have nothing to say to practising planners or citizens negotiating their way through the hurdles and pitfalls of everyday life. A concept with which philosophers grapple to no consequence other than the production of highly convoluted tomes. But wait. Surely without a sense of truth (note not the true), of what is in the world and what should be done, how can we ever frame a plan or decide on the appropriateness of applications for a commercial office development or retail centre, or demolition of a historic building? How can we ever act effectively? In these few words it is not my purpose to undertake a comprehensive review of the philosophical nuances of truth in relation to planning. I have no doubt that a contribution of that nature is much needed but that is not my concern here and now. Rather, my purpose is to argue the case that a sense of truth is vital practically to effective planning activities.

The intellectual debates of the latter part of the 20th century highlighted the dangers inherent in policies which were framed around a singular version of the truth. More particularly how such formulations, inadvertently or otherwise, oppress and disempower the least advantaged in society. However, there is an obverse to this, for without at least some sense, for example, that something needs to be done about spatial inequality and injustice, some sense of a truth (with its underlying values), then considered action to address such challenges is unlikely. Truth by omission is as oppressive as truth by dogma. If a sense of truth is rejected, evaded or side-stepped all that is left is raw, incontestable power. Our moral compass thrown away, lost to the vagaries of whichever magnetic attraction blows through. The unjust left without a point of reference. The unjustifiable open to corrupted justification. Yet, while we reject truth, who wants to feel that they have been duped into accepting a course of action based on flimsy or corrupted evidence? This broad perspective has fed the intellectual tradition which is deconstruction, a desire to reveal the manipulation of texts by the most powerful, but more generally it feeds societal scepticism and more worryingly cynicism. Trust is removed and there is nothing else for it but to look after oneself. Sadly with that comes the waning of hope. And without hope spatial planning becomes vacuous. If we have no sense that collectively we can build a better future than the one we currently have then spatial planning becomes little more than an empty vessel. A container into which anything can, and as likely as not, will be poured: fragrant or fetid, perfumed or poisonous.

Bernard Williams (2002) eloquently recognises this paradox. He suggests that we find ourselves in a situation where we at once reject, or less dogmatically, doubt that truth can be found, while simultaneously demanding truthfulness from those with which we come into contact, including the institutions of the state. For Williams this is not a satisfactory or comfortable set of circumstances. Hence he says of the tension between the rejection of truth and the pursuit of truthfulness:

…this does not mean that they can happily co-exist or that this situation is stable. If you do not really believe in the existence of truth, what is the passion for truthfulness a passion for? Or—as we might also put it—in pursuing truthfulness, what are you supposedly being true to? This is not an abstract difficulty or just a paradox. It has consequences for real politics … (p. 2)

If we accept, as most now do, that planning is an essentially political activity then this paradox really does matter, and it matters as much practically as intellectually. Williams goes on to argue that the twin virtues of truth are accuracy and sincerity, that is to say, you do your best to find out about truth and act with integrity when telling people about what you have found. He says of academics that their authority, “… must be rooted in their truthfulness in both these respects: they take care, and they do not lie” (p. 11). The same must apply to any profession, including planning.

However, this concern with truth and the associated virtues of accuracy and sincerity should not be taken to suggest a return to positivism and hence instrumental rationality. Truth does not come pre-packed as a list of numbers or an equation. Iris Murdoch (1970) noted that we do not find that we agree about the ‘facts’ but disagree about the ‘values’. They are entwined. It is intriguing that so frequently truths are more vividly and powerfully articulated through the medium of fiction than through the clinical precision of science. In any event, the seeming precision of the latter is merely an artefact of its own invention. Therefore, it is in our underlying values and in the accuracy and sincerity of our interpretations that we reveal our real commitment to truth and truthfulness. Positivism is not the answer to truthfulness but neither does this mean that we have to abandon truth, for the consequences of so doing can only impact most negatively on the vulnerable and least advantaged. The test of ‘soundness’ in relation to local development frameworks in England, in a sense, is asking planners a question about truthfulness. That many planners have struggled to know how to answer, or even address this question, indicates that truth and truthfulness are concerns that have importance beyond merely arcane intellectual debates. Its centrality to planning is also revealed in the subsequent contributions in this issue.

How can we identify and plan for the impacts from major events such as the Olympic Games in a sustainable manner? For the International Olympic Committee (IOC) the answer has been the introduction and implementation of a monitoring tool entitled the Olympic Games Global Impact study (OGGI). Dag Leonardsen's article sets about questioning the assumptions underlying this essentially quantitative tool, revealing the biases and preconceptions which in turn structure the analysis and therefore the resulting conclusions. If focus is placed on economic impacts over environmental concerns then inevitably economic issues become of paramount importance. The numbers produced may imply precise knowledge of the impacts of the Games, but it is as likely as not that they are precisely meaningless. This article effectively sets out how ‘facts’ do not speak for themselves and that what matters, in the terms I set out above, is the accuracy and sincerity of the meanings and interpretations sought. While Leonardsen sees merits in the ambition of the IOC to adopt a more professional approach to monitoring the impacts of major events he has considerable doubts about the method. He draws on his own studies associated with the Winter Olympics in Lillehammer to argue for greater use of qualitative approaches, more particularly, approaches that include consideration of the everyday experiences of those living in the vicinity of such events and the associated developments. For Leonardsen at least, this would provide more truthful evaluations. The challenge with this will be how to reconcile differing perspectives.

This theme is echoed in the article by Katie Williams and Morag Lindsay, who demonstrate to very good effect how difficult it can be to find the answer to what at first glance looks like a pretty mundane, although not unimportant question, namely, how much progress has been made in moving towards more sustainable building forms in England over the last decade? The article demonstrates the challenges inherent to defining a sustainable building and the associated implications for the resulting answer, as well as the basic difficulties of finding a baseline dataset. The authors outline how they set about developing their own definition while arguing strongly for improved official statistics. Such baseline data are seen to be vital to ensuring the translation of more sustainable built forms from rhetoric to reality. This looks like truthfulness accompanying a truth.

Ahmed Salah Ouf's article takes us from the slowly moving world of sustainable building in England to the rapidly changing world of the Gulf States, and more particularly Sharjah City in the United Arab Emirates. This is the first contribution that we have published which takes as its planning context a Gulf State and it is impossible not to be struck by the pace of change. It is crucially important that planners based in the West do not forget that much of the world is trying to cope with the implications of hugely rapid urbanisation, rather than of shrinking cities. Furthermore, that their experiences and the strategies being developed might provide valuable insights beyond that context. It is clear from Salah Ouf's article that if the rational comprehensive approach has proved of dubious value in planning Britain or the USA then its merits in a context in which the events of today provide very little clue as to the pattern of change tomorrow, are even more questionable. Accuracy in a context of rapid change is quite a challenge. As a consequence the article stresses the need for planning approaches that are flexible and provide the capacity for improvisation. However, there remains a question even in such a highly pressurised development context as to the nature of the intention (or truths) that lies behind the flexibility?

The vexing matter of cultural authenticity underpins Wun Fung Chan's article about regeneration activities in Birmingham's Chinese Quarter. This is a classic article in deconstruction. It highlights how labelling, for instance, naming an area as ‘Chinatown’, can lead to the distortion of the very cultural tradition which is seemingly being valued. Hence, rather than furthering development that accords with the aspirations of the Chinese community, a perverted development form emerges, one that follows patterns of successful regeneration projects in Chinatown districts in, for example, North America. The objective becomes one of creating an image, perhaps more accurately a stereotype, of what those who will spend money in the locality perceive as being Chinese, under the rhetoric of furthering multicultural planning. Chan's article raises important questions about the truths that underlie the authenticity of Birmingham's Chinese Quarter, but what next? Having highlighted the insidious side of the multicultural agenda in Birmingham, what should be done? What truths lie behind the commitment to deconstruct?

A great many of these themes around truthfulness come together in the Interface section. In this issue Leonie Sandercock builds on her own experience of film-making to highlight the potential insight and meaning to be derived from film and video. This is not to discard the scientific and technical but to argue that there are more ways to know and understand the world than merely through scientific rationality. Giovanni Attili sets the tone in his lead article, suggesting that film provides additional dimensions with which to explore planners' traditional flat cartographic city. In turn this offers the possibility of new meanings and expressive languages, which if harnessed effectively can facilitate deeper public involvement and more effective collective learning. This is reinforced in Wendy Sarkissen's and Jonathan Frantz's accounts of using video to further community engagement activities. The latter in particular also considers some of the practicalities involved in the effective utilisation of such technologies. Mark Tewdwr-Jones' contribution offers another lens on the value of film by highlighting how cinema often captures important insights into the emotional qualities of people's attachments to place, qualities which are at least as important as the more usually measured characteristics of places beloved of planners. Penny Gurstein's concluding commentary draws together the key threads but also warns that film and video, like any media, are not innocent but have the potential to become entwined in ever present power dynamics.

Finally on behalf of all the Editorial Team I want to express our collective gratitude to Leonie Sandercock for her very considerable contribution to the journal, as she stands down from her role as the North America Editor. In particular, the pages of the Interface section have been immensely enriched by Leonie's unique insights combined with her flair and creative energy. A statement which is both accurate and sincere!