The Elephant in the CNU (Art 1)
Recently, I was privileged to receive a registration waiver for the CNU27 conference in Louisville. I was delighted to be able to go, delighted to explore Louisville, and variably delighted to participate in some of the sessions.
But there are a lot of elephants we need to talk about – in the microcosm of New Urbanism, in the mezzocosm of planning, and in the macrocosm of urbanism. Here is my first conversation starter.
I attended a session that was billed as a ditty on tactical urbanism. I thought it was going to be a fun throw-away, perhaps a creatively stimulating portfolio of parking spot pocket parks, or pop-up outdoor cinemas. Maybe we’d even get into some experimental interventions, and someone would talk about the best options for bus shelters, or bodega amenities. I love it all; bring on the fun and informative. Instead, I spent half the session vibrating with anger and disbelief.
From my perspective, the session was really a developer infomercial about how to co-opt the hard-won language of community into marketing tactics which fundamentally demonstrate all the reasons why when you, Developer, walk into a public meeting, you are met with open hostility and a presumption of bad faith.
Enter on stage a young woman, no doubt earnest, put in a depth of water clearly not anticipated or understood – or perhaps I am the one who didn’t understand whom the audience really was or was supposed to be. Fair enough. In any case, she begins to tout her company’s use of “storytelling” to develop “placemaking,” which is all about the “community.”
Storytelling. Placemaking. Of and by the community. These ideas mean something. They have history. Often, they have trauma. They have history in disenfranchised communities whose histories were erased. Whose identities were systemically ignored. Placemaking by and of the community is an assets-based concept, which means that the community gets to amplify its voice, tell its story, through and in the places which it occupies. Community is complicated: it’s not one group, or one place. There are conflicts, contested spaces, competing stories, conflated identities. Community is not static in time, and rights to the city are always being negotiated. But, as I said in the session, The stories in storytelling are about the people, not your fucking new building. Placemaking is not your site plan.
Because what these words meant, in their context, was how to purchase a piece of land cheaply, because there is “nothing around,” and market it aggressively through imposed programming branded as “community events” in order to make the site literally more valuable. That way, once you get the thing built in a couple of years, your pro forma rent roll has just doubled, tripled or better. The programming has habituated some people to come to the spot, and now you can use those numbers – contrived as they are – to show how hot the area “is.“ Aren’t you clever.
I am not even sure that I mind the overt financial interest in this. I fully understand that developers have learned that “if you build it, they will come” is a bad foundation, but “if they come, you can build it” is a pretty good bet. What I mind is trying to convince us that they’re doing something completely opposite. Look at all our value adds! they exclaimed. We’re ensuring that we promote local goods and services! they trumpeted.
I see. So, you leveraged the assets of where you’re landing your ship to sell an idea of place to people who are not of and by the community. Hey, Spain! These Indians are fan-tast-ic! Look at these cool beads they make. Wouldn’t you love to buy a condo here? Bring some blankets to trade – it’s all about community! In some quarters, that’s called appropriation. But if it provides locals an opportunity, I can live with the deal the locals make. But let’s be honest about it: let’s call it a deal, and not chivalry.
The one way you know if something is relatively authentic is the same way you know if any system has integrity. At the end, Mr. Boss came on to brag about how this method is effective, but it ain’t cheap. He’s had to spend millions to keep this kind of organic, community-based celebration of place and identity going.
Ah, and there’s the fatal tell. Just like with any system, you may need a spark to get the wheels turning. A little grease, here and there, to smooth out the belts. But if it only works over time because it is being constantly infused with external inputs, then it’s not real. It’s a themed environment. This particular themed environment was something like “working class Boston creative,” constructed to add a little salt to a glass and cement, dry cracker of a development. Think of it this way: if Disneyland was no longer Disney-funded, a village of mining dwarves and princesses wouldn’t suddenly spring up in its place. No, it would be abandoned, empty, because the story told there is not the story of there.
And that should lead us to question the design cycle for Detroit “placemaking,” but that will sit for another time. Is there an alternative prescription? Yes. Please stay tuned.