University Of Amsterdam Consensus building through collaborative planning: A case study of the Kettle-Boffo project, Vancouver MASTER THESIS Submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of MASTER OF SCIENCE in Urban and Regional Planning Submitted to: Dr. Tuna Tasan-Kok Faculty of Social and Behavioural Science By Doi, Terri - 11264152 Second Reader: Dr. Maria Kaika terri.laporte@gmail.com
Acknowledgment
I would like to thank my supervisor Dr. Tasan-Kok, without her support this thesis would not have been possible. Not only is Dr. Tasan-Kok a profound wealth of knowledge, but is a combination of awe-inspiring brilliance coupled with a truly genuine, kind and compassionate heart. I am truly grateful to have had the opportunity to be advised and mentored by Dr. Tasan-Kok.
Dedication
I would like to dedicate this research project to my Auntie Michele. She has been a constant beacon of support throughout my academic pursuits, and the motivation for this research. She has committed her life to activism in pursuits of equality and fairness, and her passion, dedication and conviction for what is right and just is an inspiration.Keywords: Collaborative planning, consensus, consensus building, democracy, deliberative democracy, post-politics, post-political theory, Habermas, communicative rationality.
1. Introduction ... 4 2. Theory ... 7 2.1 The background and foundations of consensus building in planning theory ... 7 2.2 Understanding collaborative planning ... 10 2.3 Principles of the collaborative planning process to building consensus ... 11 2.4 Critique of consensus building through collaborative planning ... 16 2.5 Research contribution ... 22 3. Case study ... 23 4. Methodology ... 34 4.1 Research Design ... 34 4.2 Methodological tool of analysis ... 36 4.3 Data Collection ... 37 4.4 Analysis ... 39 4.5 Limitations ... 40 5. Analysis ... 40 5.1 Initial events ... 41 5.2 Opposition ... 45 5.3 Response ... 50 5.4 Assembly process ... 53 5.5 Citizens’ Assembly Final Decision ... 76 5.6 Outcome ... 78 5.7 Council meeting to finalize the community plan ... 81 6. Discussion ... 85 6.1 Calming dissent ... 86 6.2 Exclusion ... 87 6.3 Steer the process through control ... 88 7. Conclusion ... 89 7.1 Recommendations for future research ... 90 Bibliography ... 92 Appendix 1: Analysis Documents ... 96
1. Introduction
During the formative years of planning, “site analysis and the design of physical space” (Palermo & Ponzini, 2010: p. 201) were the primary objects of planning conducted through hierarchal top down processes. This traditional planning approach experienced detraction in the latter part of the 20th century as the shift away from “Fordist production systems” (Healey, 1998a: p. 1533) over to the economic development of neoliberal entrepreneurialism led governments to “improve the social and environmental qualities of cities” (Ibid). As such, the focus of planning expanded to include “economic, social, and environmental dimensions of urban and regional development” (Ibid: p. 201) whereby matters of societal concerns were incorporated with that of urban development (Ibid: p. 202). Further, governments sought differing ways to involve public participation in decision making as years of “top-down, heavy handed actions of governments” (Chakraborty, 2012: p. 133) fostered bottom-up demands for the inclusion of the public – via public participation – in the planning process (Ibid). This coupled with the governments need to “enhance public legitimacy” (Verloo, 2015: p. 19) and find alternate approaches to “engage citizens in democratic practices as complex societies challenge them to rethink representation” (Ibid).
As such, over the past few decades planning theory and practice have placed considerable emphasis on the involvement of the public in the planning process (Kumar & Paddison, 2000: p.204). This people centered approach – which has gained notable momentum since the early 1980’s – has evidenced a participatory and ‘communicative turn’ in the field of planning (Healey, 1992; Brand, & Gaffikin, 2007; Chakraborty, 2012; Kumar & Paddison, 2000). This shift disrupted existing dominant assumptions about “what planning is, how it works” (Innes & Booher, 2015: p. 196), and how planning is to be conducted; and has become centralized and prevalent in planning practice and education (Allmendinger & Haughton, 2012: p. 90). Moreover, through the turn emerged collaborative planning (drawn from Habermas’s communicative rational), which has offered an alternative approach for planners who were no longer comfortable with the traditional planning approach.
Although planning practices continue to conduct “systematic analysis and logical argumentation” (Innes, 1995: p. 184); drawing from the tenets of Habermas’s
communicative rationale, the ‘communicate turn’ has cultivated a change in the focus of planning over to the concentration on interactive relations and communicative activity (Healey, 2003; Innes, 1995; Margerum, 2002). Planning is deemed to occur not only within the bounds of government, but in the wider periphery of actors and networks in both the public and private domain (Ibid); and as such, central to the “understanding and conduct of planning” (Innes & Booher, 2015: p.196) is to render a focus on the interactions amongst stakeholders, actors, and networks; and further incorporate the practical application of “listening, inclusion, dialogue, and deliberation among diverse stakeholders” (Ibid).
As such, citizen involvement in planning processes have significantly increased since the communicative turn (Healey, 2003); and in tandem, collaborative planning has become a dominant planning paradigm (Allmendinger & Haughton, 2012; Roy, 2015). As such, planning through collaborative planning has directed focus on providing platforms for open debate and discussion arenas where communication and dialogue can occur (Healey, 2003). Further, collaborative planning has prompted the “policy imperative for planning practice to become more oriented towards consensus-building work” (Allmendinger & Haughton, 2012: p. 90). Thus witnessing planning focused on developing and exploring “consensus-based approaches to achieving agreement across diverse societal actors” (Ibid: p. 89) that promote inclusion and openness (Brand & Gaffikin, 2007).
As such, planners have been turning to the collaborative processes as a vehicle to engage public participation and build consensus in planning processes. As a consensus-based approach, collaborative planning seeks to “create equal and empowering decision making forums” (Roy, 2015: p.60). However, are these arenas truly open to the girth of debate, or has the process been hindered by constraints (Ranciere, 2004: p. 4)? Collaborative processes have been critiqued as failing to provide “empowering arenas for debate” (Allmendinger & Haughton, 2012: p. 90) as the processes are encumbered by “carefully choreographed processes for participation” (Ibid) and delineated parameters for “what is open for debate” (Ibid). Thus, the processes limit the ability for those with opposing views to be provided with a meaningful hearing” (Ibid) whilst presenting the appearance of open and inclusive public engagement (Allmendinger & Haughton, 2012).
Thus, does this allow room in the process to be influenced and steered towards specific outcomes (Ibid)?
The outcome of the Kettle-Boffo project consensus process was steered towards a specific outcome, as such, was the process encumbered by “carefully choreographed processes for participation” (Allmendinger & Haughton, 2012: p. 90)? Did the arena empower debate? Was the process subject to control? The outcome of the Kettle-Boffo project thus presents a unique case of consensus building conducted through a convoluted and complex process. The proposed plan became a part of the community plan planning process carried out through a collaborative process inclusive of public consultation. However, the project was marred with opposition around height and density, and became part of an unprecedented form of deliberative democracy in the City of Vancouver. The Grandview-Woodland Citizens’ Assembly, an assembly specifically dedicated to the development of a community plan, was the first of its kind in Vancouver, and in Canada (Citizens’ Assembly Final Report, 2015). This Assembly would look at the issues surrounding the Kettle-Boffo project, amongst other items, and work towards consensus. However the outcome of the overall process resulted in City Council disregarding the recommendations of the Assembly, and approving the controversial height that invoked the original dissent at the start of the process; which begs the question, what happened during the consensus building process to render this outcome? As such, this thesis will explore the consensus building process in the planning process of the Kettle-Boffo project; and through a dissemination of the events and processes that occurred, determine how the outcome resulted in the original height. As such, the thesis seeks to answer the following research question: To what extent was the consensus building process utilized as a bypass mechanism for undesired outcomes?
The research is structured and presented in the following order. Chapter 1 presents an introduction to this research by presenting an overview of the turns in planning that cultivated a shift towards collaborative planning; outlines the problem statement; and presents the research question. Chapter 2 begins with a presentation of the background and foundations of consensus building in planning theory through a literature review of related works. Followed by an understanding of collaborative planning, principles of the
collaborative planning process to consensus building; and subsequently a critique of consensus building through collaborative planning; and followed by a post-political critique of consensus. Chapter 3 introduces the Kettle-Boffo project as the case study for analysis. Chapter 4 presents the research design and the methods utilized to conduct this research. Followed by an explanation of the methodological tool of analysis; methods of data collections; method of analysis; and ending with a presentation of the research limitations. Chapter 5 presents the data analysis structured in a sequence of events mapping the consensus building process of the Kettle-Boffo project. Chapter 6 presents a discussion of the findings organized into three sections: Calming dissent, Exclusion, and Steering the process through control. And lastly, chapter 7 presents the conclusion of the research and recommendations for future research.
2. Theory
2.1 The background and foundations of consensus building in planning theory
Consensus building has strong linkages to theories and practices of “interest based bargaining, mediation, and alternative dispute resolution” (Innes, 2004: p. 6). As such, consensus building literature spans many fields of research due to the broad spectrum of usage. Literature can be found discussing consensus building in integrated planning in (water) resource management (DeHaven-Smith & Wodraska, 1996; Maclean et al., 2014); strategic planning in business management (Nielsen, 1983; Tenaglia & Noonan, 1993); development of technological platforms for ICT systems (Clarke et al, 2011; Van de Kaa, & De Bruijn, 2015); building capacity in health care (Hearld, 2013; Rudolphi & Donham, 2015); mediation in environmental management disputes (Fowler & Shi, 2016); building foreign policy and international relations (Marshall et al, 2002; Melanson, 1990); affordable housing (Field, 1997; Mctague & Jakubowski, 2013); and in various facets of urban and regional planning (Bafarasat & Baker, 2016; Healey, 2006; Innes, 1996; Innes, & Booher, 1999; Mattila, 2016); in addition to a plethora of other areas such as citizen disagreement in planning (Ozdemir & Tasan-Kok, forthcoming).
As a process over the past few decades, consensus building has become an increasingly prevalent approach for “making choices, addressing problems, and developing strategy in complex and controversial situations” (Innes, 1999: p. 631) whereby multiple interests are at stake (Innes, 1996). This has lead to the development of pragmatic writings (including handbooks) that outline tools and tactics for creating consensus in business practices and daily life through problem solving, negotiation, and conflict resolution techniques through mutual agreement; and further places emphasizes of the importance of language/dialogue in the process and the role of the individual actors (Fisher, Ury & Patton, 1982; Fisher & Ertel, 1995; Wheeler, 2013; Ebenstien, 2013).
But why consensus building? From a conceptual stance, the essence and underpinning of consensus is founded on the basis of democracy (Habermas in Flyvberg, 1998; Kapoor, 2002). Academics such as Hillier (2003), Purcell (2009), Kapoor (2002), Mattila (2016) and Flyvberg (1998) alike – whether critical or constructive of Habermas – refer to Habermasian communicative rationality in research pertaining to consensus building thereby supporting the argument that consensus building is grounded in the model. Communicative rationality is espoused as an instrument in fostering a more democratic civil society through the “emphasis on procedures for democratic decision making” (Flyvberg, 1998: p. 198).
Consensus is built through processes invoked by rational deliberation and debate espoused through ‘ideal speech situations’ (Bond, 2011; Habermas in Kapoor, 2002). These ‘ideal speech situations’ provide ideal conditions for argumentation as “argumentation insures that all concerned in principle take part, freely and equally, in a cooperative search for truth, where nothing coerces anyone except the force of the better argument” (Habermas in Flyvberg, 1998: p. 188). As a result, agreement will be arrived upon, and a shared knowledge, understanding and mutual trust will be afforded to one another (Habermas in Flyvberg, 1998; Hillier, 2003). In tandem, Habermas (1990) states that a “central experience” of the human life is “the unconstrained, unifying, consensus-bringing force of argumentative speech” (Habermas in Flyvberg, 1998: p. 187). This process of democratic decision-making aids the formation and the development of a more democratic society; and as such, Flyvberg (1998) argues that the Habermasian model of communicative
rationality is intended “to be a weapon in the fight against anti-democratic tendencies” (Flyvberg, 1998: p.189).
Research conducted by Kanpoor (2002) cites Habermasian deliberative democracy promulgates that citizens are free to carry out dialogue and debate within the autonomous space – separate from economy and state – of the ‘public sphere’ thereby arguing the expansion of free speech to bolster and afford the strengthening of the democratic foundations (Habermas in Kapoor, 2002). Further, Kanpoor (2002) argues that the Habermasian ‘ideal speech situation’ is not intended to be empirical, rather, to be utilized as a contrarian position to “assess and challenge public deliberations and power politics” (Kanpoor, 2002: p. 105); and guarantee, expand and regulate deliberative democracy (Ibid). Furthermore, an enhanced deliberative process will deliver less distorted communication thereby increasing the probability of overall consensus acceptance by all (Ibid). Kanpoor (2002) posits that the outcome will be “just and equitable” as consensus will be arrived at through debate and arguments of reason thereby “reasons triumph over power” (Kanpoor, 2002: p. 107).
In contrast, Hillier (2003) criticizes the viability of Habermasian’s ‘ideal speech situation’ as being unrealistic in its ability to produce understanding and rendering consensus. Hillier (2003) further argues that in reality individuals are less likely to adhere to reasonable agreement if manipulation of information and employing “instrumental power-plays” (Ibid: p. 41) could provide increased benefits for themselves (Ibid). In support of this critique, Flyvberg (1998) proclaims that the Habermasian model is idealistic and fails to consider components that distort power and rhetoric; break down communication and consensus seeking; and acknowledge the subsequent results. Further, Flyvberg argues “power is needed to limit power” (Flyvberg, 1998; p. 192) and required to address real political change (Flyvberg, 1998). In tandem, Flyvberg (1998) and Mattila (2016) denote Habermas’s failure to address power, and cite the need to consider power and conflict in order to understand consensus (Flyvberg, 1998; Mattila, 2016).
2.2 Understanding collaborative planning
The theory of collaborative planning cannot be accredited to that of one scholar, but namely to an assortment of planning theorists. This is evidenced in significant bodies of work published by Healey (1992, 1998a, 1998b, 2003, 2006), who has written extensively about collaborative planning through a broad scope that focuses on the complex relationships within the large arena of city planning and spatial strategy; Innes (1995, 1996, 2004) – and jointly Innes and Booher (1999, 2002, 2004, 2015) – who narrow the focus to explore the working context of collaborative interactions in consensus building and the learning that occurs; and Forester (1982, 1987, 1989, 2006 ) whose contribution more so focuses on the role of planners in shaping and managing collaborative processes. Adding to this larger body of work, researchers such as Chakraborty (2012) explore the reflection of stakeholder interests within public participation in collaborative planning; Maginn (2007) examines neighborhood level community participation in collaborative planning; and Margerum (2002) discusses consensus building obstacles confronting stakeholders in collaborative processes. These scholars, amongst others, have aided the development, amelioration, and refinement of the theory which has helped bolster the popularization of collaborative planning (Brand & Gaffikin, 2007). As a framework, collaborative planning cannot be deduced into a “monolithic block of axioms set in stone” (Brand & Gaffikin, 2007: p. 284); nor described as a “tight discipline” (Innes, 2004: p. 6 in Roy, 2015: p. 61) as “internal variations” (Roy, 2015: p. 61) amongst scholars exist (Innes, 2004). However, regardless of the variations in focus, research draws on the tenets of Habermas’s communicative rationality as the fundamental core elements of collaborative planning. The premise of such grounding “suggests that the essence of democracy is in the communication and argumentation amongst democratic citizens” (Roy, 2015: p. 61) whereby the communicative practices enable processes resulting in democratic reasoning (Healey, 2006). As such, proponents of collaborative planning have endorsed the theory as “paradigmatic in status” (Bond, 2011: p. 164) as a process by which to enhance democracy and social justice (Ibid).
However, as a point of departure from communicative rationality, collaborative planning has been described as more pragmatic in application as opposed to Habermas’s theoretical framing (Mattila, 2016; Flyvberg, 1998). Proponents of collaborative planning define the approach as an “interactive process of consensus building” (Margerum, 2002: p. 237) that promotes the development of stakeholder relationships, collaboration and participation in projects, policy development and delivery (Healey, 1998; Innes 1995, 1996; Kumar & Paddison, 2000; Margerum, 2002). Through deliberative dialogue, collaborative processes employ “inclusive, reflexive and consensus-oriented” (Brand & Gaffikin, 2007: p. 291) forms of collective problem solving and decision-making that endeavor to “enhance access to, and legitimacy of, a more transparent and accountable form of governance” (Ibid: p. 291). As such, collaborative planning presents a shift from “representational to discursive and participatory forms of governance” (Ibid) while providing an increased level of “complexity, competence, stability and performance” (Brand & Graffikin, 2007: p. 290) than its participatory predecessors (Innes & Booher, 1999).
As such, collaborative planning is described as providing an alternate model for consensus building as the communicative nature has deemed the process “more inclusive, more fair, and more democratic than traditional ones” (Purcell, 2009: p. 155). As a form of deliberative democracy, collaborative planning is utilized as a strategy for dealing with political disagreement and conflict; and employed as a feasible approach to navigate and address “uncertain, complex and controversial planning and policy tasks” (Innes & Booher, 1999: p. 412). As such, governments and planners employ this approach to foster public deliberation and garner interaction through partnerships in the preparation of “legislation, policies, plans, regulatory principles, and implementation strategies” (Margerum, 2002: p. 238). Deliberation is deemed as an essential element to legitimize democratic political decisions which in turn will allow deliberation to produce decisions that reflect the public good (Kapoor, 2002).
2.3 Principles of the collaborative planning process to building consensus
As the impetus of collaborative planning lies within its participatory nature, a critical component of the theory and practice focuses on the involvement and inclusion of stakeholders. In practical application, Innes and Booher (1995) denote the conduct of collaborative planning is carried out in an “array of practices” through which stakeholders are “selected to represent different interests, come together for face-to-face, long-term dialogue to address policy issues of common concern” (Innes & Booher, 1999: p. 412). As such, those with a perceived ‘stake’ in a place, process, or outcome must be identified, and provided opportunity to discuss their particular interest in the problem or task at hand (Healey, 1998a; Healey, 1998b; Margerum, 2002). This involvement is not relegated to residents, users, or professionals within a geographical confine; but open to all those who have a perceived stake which often includes government representatives, community members, interest groups, and members of the public (Margerum, 2002). As such, stakeholder inclusion in the process aims to found and establish collaborative relationships with geographical stakeholders to develop joint decisions on policies and programs, in addition to encouraging “governance cultures through which territorial political communities can collectively address their conflicts” (Healey, 1998b: p. 1535). Furthermore, the collaborative planning process provides opportunity for communities to augment their input in shaping current and future conditions of their places through “open and diffused relationships of contemporary society” (Ibid) Dialogue
Healey (1998a) contends that stakeholder involvement and public participation is encouraged through collaborative planning by the provision of discussion platforms. This emphasis on dialogue falls in line with Habermas’s communicative rationality, whereby dialogue amongst those with differing interests will realize emancipatory knowledge (Innes & Booher, 1999). As such, collaborative planning theory proposes discussion arenas provide space for communication, deliberation, and dialogue to occur between those with an interest or ‘stake’ in the process (Healey, 1998a; Roberts, 2002). These arenas allow for the diversity of opinions and perspectives to be presented making room for the consideration and understanding of the differing perspectives. As such, Innes & Booher (2002) state that through this process, a nuanced understanding and shared language will evolve that allows stakeholders to establish a unified frame through which to reference and view the problem.
In effect, this fosters mutual learning and the evolution of consensus (Innes & Booher, 2002; Healey, 1998b).
Reciprocity
However, Healey (1998a, 1998b, 2006) and Innes & Booher (2002) contend that dialogue should be based on the democratic ethic of mutual respect as reciprocal respect, or ‘reciprocity’ is expounded to be the foundation of trust (Bond, 2011; Healey, 1998a, 1998b, 2005; Innes & Booher, 2002). In the collaborative process the development of reciprocity and trust aids the motivation for stakeholders to work together, and founds a sense of interdependence amongst actors thereby binding together the network (Innes & Booher, 1999). Within the discussion arena, the practice of ‘undistorted communication’ promotes reciprocity and trust as the collaborative tradition promulgates the free flow of information. This information should be equally provided to all stakeholders, through which the transmission and communication is conducted with “legitimacy, accuracy, sincerity and transparency” (Innes & Booher, 1999: p. 229; Habermas, 1985b). All stakeholders shall be equally informed, and provided access to all pertinent information concerning the planning issue of concern (Agger & Löfgren, 2008, Brand & Gaffikin, 2007; Innes & Booher, 1999). Undistorted Communication & Ideal Speech Further, in the discussion arena and throughout the collaborative process, no actor shall be afforded more power than others. Fundamentally, “power should be neutralized for the purposes of deliberation” (Purcell, 2009: p. 155) and all stakeholders recognized and treated as equal partners (Brand & Gaffikin, 2007). As such, the deliberative process affords stakeholders with the capacity to freely challenge assumptions, contest assertions, and question the status quo while being imparted reciprocity by all actors involved (Brand & Gaffikin, 2007; Innes & Booher, 1999; Agger & Löfgren, 2008). This provision of ‘undistorted communication’ empowers stakeholders to deliberate openly, honestly, and without fear of domination or coercion – lying in tandem with the ‘ideal speech situation’ of communicative rationality (Habermas, 1985b). This open and inclusive dialogue amongst stakeholders is circumscribed by Healey (1989, 1998), and Innes & Booher (1999, 2006) to garner a process of deliberation that will cultivate reasonable decisions by way of ‘force of the better
argument’, and whereby logical argumentation will supersede towards consensus (Habermas, 1985b; Purcell, 2007).
Common good
Through the provision of deliberation and open debate, Healey (2006) delineates collaborative processes facilitate a knowledge and information exchange that builds trust, mutual understanding, and reciprocity between stakeholders (Healey, 2006; Margerum, 2002). This in turn allows for the creation and communication of shared interests to evolve, and a more insightful understanding to emerge (Ibid). As such, this understanding fosters the establishment of a deeper connection amongst stakeholders, and the development of a shared identity (Healey, 2006). Successively, this prompts the recognition that stakeholders are no longer promoting self-interests (Healey, 1998b), but have become “a part of a community of interest, with a common fate based on the behaviour of other participants in the network” (Innes & Booher, 1999: p. 227). This aids the stakeholders in identifying and defining the ‘common good’. As such, self-interests are relegated to that of community interests or the ‘common good,’ and exchanged for the creation of “a cohesive we” (Purcell, 2009: p. 153).
Inclusion of the marginalized
Collaborative planning promotes not only the “creat[ion] of a cohesive ‘we’, but an inclusive one” (Purcell, 2009: p. 153) in which all stakeholders impacted by the problem, and subsequent decision, are to be included in the process (Ibid). As such, the process aims to afford opportunity for “local communities to defend their own interests and engage in contestations (Healey, 2006: p. 56). This is espoused in the normative stance of collaborative planning that takes an “ethical commitment to enabling all stakeholders have a voice (Healey, 2006: p. 5). Further, this provision aims to make the “invisible visible” (Innes & Booher, 1999: p. 418) by giving a “voice to the voiceless” (Brand & Gaffikin, 2007: p. 288) through democratic avenues. In essence, this aims at democratizing society through the empowerment of the marginalized.
Further, Healey (1998) advocates inclusion in the process, however deems that no voice should be afforded greater privilege regardless of economic, social or political status
(Healey, 1998). Nor shall any voice be excluded based on these factors, or on their opinions, viewpoints, or avowals (Agger & Löfgren, 2008). However, there is a need to recognize that in any given geographical area, stakeholders will come from a range of backgrounds thereby the process must ensure that “representatives from all relevant social groups (‘stakeholders’) are included in the process” (Agger & Löfgren, 2008: p. 147).
Diversity
Healey (1998) posits that the impetus of collaborative planning to focus on inclusivity in the process can instigate shifts “towards more participatory forms of democracy” (Healey, 1998). This falls in line with Habermasian ideals as the presence of diversity within dialogue is essential in order to promulgate and actualize communicative rationality (Booher & Innes, 2002). The diversity of stakeholder interests presents differing points of views, knowledge, experience, and praxis that enrich dialogue, help define elemental differences of the impact of those interests, and aid the dissemination of the layers connecting and disconnecting the problems, conflicts, and policies at hand (Healey, 1998; Booher & Innes, 2002). The “sharing of knowledge and understanding helps coordinate action” (Healey, 1998: p. 1539) and allows for the emergence of “practical rationality” and “emancipatory rationality” in understanding which cultivate practical results (Booher & Innes, 2002: p. 229).
Social capital
The inclusive, diverse and openly dialectic nature of collaborative process aids the development of new personal and professional relationships (Booher & Innes, 2004). As diverse stakeholders in the process collaborate on a common task, the exchange of information free from coercion or top down influence allows participants to build interpersonal connections (Ibid). This social capital in turn produces networks that are heuristic in nature and promote the flow of information amongst its members (Booher & Innes, 2002; Booher & Innes, 2004). Further, the linkage between network stakeholders provides the ‘shared ability’ of those involved in the process to impact and alter the policy, problem, or conflict at hand (Booher & Innes, 2002). This translates into a new form of power, ‘network power’, as the stakeholders share the flow of power which decidedly grows as “players identify and build on their interdependencies to create new potential” (Booher & Innes, 2002: p. 221). Through this, collaborative planning espouses that social,
political, and intellectual capital grows and builds ‘institutional capacity’ that spreads into interconnected networks fostering the growth of the “civic capacity of society” (Innes & Booher, 2004: p. 428) whereby “participants become more knowledgeable and competent, and believe more in their ability to make a difference” (Ibid).
Network power
Collaborative planning recognizes that power differentials exist, and holds that the “added value of network power” (Brand & Gaffikin, 2007: p. 292) coupled with the “beneficial security and legitimacy of widespread support” (Ibid) in the process can induce the powerful to participate (Ibid). The process deems all stakeholders as equal members in the deliberative process (Purcell, 2009) and seeks to neutralize and “dispense power plays altogether by removing distortions” (Brand & Gaffikin, 2007: pp. 288-289). However, Innes (2004) denotes a requirement to differentiate between the “power around the table” and the “power outside of dialogue” (p. 12) as equalization of the former can be carried out through skillful management of dialogue, shared information, and education of the stakeholders” (p. 12); whereas power in the latter, will remain unchanged in the consensus building process (Innes, 2004; Purcell, 2009; Roy 2015).
In sum, the aforementioned sections discuss the principles of the collaborative planning processes to building consensus whereby some of the elements will appear in the analysis section of this thesis. As such, collaborative planning seeks to empower “all to come together on equal terms to make fair and open decisions” (Allmendinger & Haughton, 2012: p. 90) while in tandem, overcoming inequalities in information and resources while “improving the workings and the legitimacy of the democratic process” (Ibid: p. 96). Through this focus on consensus building, collaborative planning encourages planning to work towards “political democratization of daily communication” (Forester in Healey, 1989: p. 478) and promote a more “socially just and democratic world” (Ibid).
2.4 Critique of consensus building through
collaborative planning
As the popularity of collaborative planning has catapulted the theory and practice onto the center stage of planning, significant debate over the past two decades has surrounded thenewly contested paradigm. Planning theorists and human geographers alike have been critical of the theory and challenge the core propositions lying within the focus on democratic consensus. Espoused as a democratic process, collaborative planning does not afford the ability to resist or fight power (Purcell, 2009). As stated by Innes, the process cannot change power outside of dialogue; however expects that through logical argumentation power differentials inside of dialogue will be dissolved and result in “power-free deliberations” (Ozdemir & Tasan-Kok, forthcoming; Booher & Innes, 2002; Brand & Gaffikin, 2007). Purcell (2009) disagrees with this notion, and contends that “any active attempt to neutralize power through facilitation” maintains the presence and utilization of power within the equation; and therefore in and of itself becomes an “imposition of particular relations of power” (p. 151) – in essence, “power taming” (p. 151) itself is the exertion of power. Purcell (2009) further adds that power is “constitutive of social relationships” (p. 151), and drawing on Foucault (1998) argues that power is ever-present and continuously shaping relationships therefore cannot be neutralized or dissolved.
As such, consensus processes are therefore susceptible to power differentials, and moreover, to the influence, manipulation, and obstruction by those who hold power from both outside the process, and within. Drawing from this point, Roy (2015) posits that consensus building affords “stronger and hegemonic groups” (p. 62) to utilize the process to promote and advance their interests. This manifests in the ‘common good’ as individual interests are replaced by those of the ‘common good’, thereby adding burden to the marginalized by denying them their most “promising tool” (Abram, 2000 in Roy, 2015: p. 62; Purcell, 2007). In line with this critique, Mouffe (2000) denotes that “every consensus exists as a temporary result of a provisional hegemony, as a stabilization of power that always entails some form of exclusion” (Mouffe, 2000 in Bond, 2011: p. 167); and as such, consensus can never be fully inclusive. Both points converge on the potential of the power differential to be utilized by hegemonic groups to suppress and exclude the voices of the weaker and marginalized (Bond, 2011; Roy, 2015). Thereby critiquing the process as failing to recognize the existence of exclusion and the hegemonic powers at play.
Collaborative planning is further critiqued as creating exclusion; although proponents argue that the participatory form of democracy – through participatory
processes – seeks to eliminate exclusion (Healey, 1998). Further, critics assert that the process excludes some social groups while “favoring” (Ozedemir & Tasan-Kok, forthcoming) others through the delineation of stakeholder involvement (Allmendinger & Haughton, 2012; Brand & Gaffikin, 2007). As such, the consensus process begs room to be subjected to control by those yielding power to carefully choreograph and shape the selection of stakeholders involved (Allmendinger & Haughton, 2012). Relative to this point, Purcell (2009) denotes the emphasis of collaborative planning to include those affected by their “stake” in the process creates space to skew the level of impact to a narrow definition, for the exclusionary purposes to align with specified interests, outcomes and goals.
In similar vein, the collaborative processes have been criticized as hindering organized action in a restrictive manner thereby rending them “exclusive under participatory approach” (Ozdemir & Tasan-Kok, forthcoming). Moreover, as a means to minimize dissenting views and the ability for those voices to receive a public hearing, the consensus processes limits participation to that of menial commentary (i.e.: on pre-existing plans) (Chakraborty, 2012). Further, the consensus building processes have been criticized as being predisposed to manipulation by those in power to steer and shape trajectories (Roy, 2015). As such, the manipulated processes have been utilized as tools to garner community support on projects and policies, in addition to “educating the public to engineer citizen’s reports” (Roy, 2015: p. 62). As such, collaborative planning has been criticized as espousing to uphold democratic processes through consensus building by which public voices “manipulating the process” (Forester in Healey, 1989: p. 478) are to be managed. In essence, collaborative planning is criticized as a form of governance by which to allow for the “organizing and disciplining of society” (Ozedemir & Tasan-Kok, forthcoming). As such, through the intention to neutralize power, misuse of control of the process, and the exclusionary nature, Mouffe (2000) argues that “consensus endangers the truly political potential of a healthy democracy” (Mouffe, 2000 in Roy, 2015: p. 62). This line of thought draws from a new layer of critique that has developed around consensus, one that is not directly critical of collaborative scholars and collaborative planning per se, but critiques the very nature of the democratic underpinnings of consensus.
Post-political critique of consensus
As of recent, academics nuanced in post-political theory have begun to question the democratic nature of collaborative planning. Scholars such as Swyngedouw (2007), Roy (2015) and Allmendinger & Haughton (2012) have begun to apply post-political theory to that of planning. However, research in this area still remains in the formative stages and in need of further contribution and advancement. Nonetheless, the literature developing in this subset has criticized collaborative planning as “nurtur[ing] the post-political condition” (Roy, 2015: p. 59; Ozdemir & Tasan-Kok, forthcoming), and characterizes such deliberative forms of democracy as processes of “depoliticization and exclusion” (Ozdemir & Tasan-Kok, forthcoming) thereby arguably undemocratic.
The complex and philosophical theory of post-politics begs inception from the scholarly writings of Rancière (2001, 2004), Žižek (2006), and Mouffe (2000). However, neither Rancière, Žižek, nor Mouffe have presented a definitive definition or concrete structure for the term, instead presenting a loose framework that leaves room for interpretation. As such, this has caused considerable confusion amongst academics, resulting in a range of diversity in the definition presented in research (Wilson & Swyngedouw, 2014). Nonetheless, although agreement has not been surmised on a definition, post-political scholars broadly make reference to situated conditions for the post-political condition (Ibid). Therefore moving forward, the definition and discussion presented herein, is an amalgamation of interpretations on post-politics and the post-political condition presented by several academics, including that of my own.
In post-politics, the post-political condition is said to have emerged with the shift in the global political climate resulting from the collapse of communism in the Soviet Union. The post-Cold War period witnessed a rise of “liberal democracy,… economic globalization, pressures for greater political and administrative devolution, and the proliferation and acceptance of diverse lifestyles” (Allmendinger & Haughton, 2012: p. 91). As such, the need for a new form of governance evolved whereby “class-based politics” (Ibid) were relegated to that of the past, in place of a “collaboration of enlightened technocrats” (Žižek, 2006 in Swyngedouw, 2007: p. 10) and liberalists in a consensus based governance (Ibid).
Within the post-political condition developed “the political”, a “space of contestation and agnostic engagement” (Wilson & Swyngedouw, 2014: p. 6) whereby injustices could be brought forth by those excluded from power and the negotiation of interests could occur (Žižek, 2006 in Swyngedouw, 2007; Roy, 2015) - thus allowing for the disruption of the “existing order of domination” (Roy, 2015, p. 61) through politics proper. However, “the political” is increasingly influenced by “consensual procedures” operating within an “unquestioned framework of represented democracy, free market economics, and cosmopolitan liberalism” (Wilson & Swyngedouw, 2014: p. 6) – i.e.: more diverse and free flowing populations. As such, adversarial politics are avoided (Roy, 2015), and political contestations are relegated to matters of policy that are subjugated by technocrats and “legitimated through participatory processes in which the scope of possible outcomes is narrowly defined in advance” (Ibid). Whereby real democratic political debate is no longer possible and replaced by pragmatic governance centered on the neoliberal agenda (Swyngedouw, 2007).
As such, in the post-political condition, Žižek (2005) delineates that “politics proper are progressively replaced by expert social administration” (Žižek 2005: 117 in Swyngedouw, 2007: p. 13) thereby leading to depoliticization. This is espoused in collaborative planning whereby the impetus of deliberative approaches to conflict negotiation produce mutually beneficial outcomes (Allmendinger & Haughton, 2012; Healey, 2006; Purcell, 2009). This allows experts to depoliticize the conflict by subjugating the political through the elimination of the political-policy divide (Allmendinger & Haughton, 2012). Further ascribed by the post-political condition, these processes carefully control conflicts in order to adhere to predefined and pre-determined roles, processes and outcomes (Allmendinger & Haughton, 2012), and implement rules and laws by which to govern these practices in an effort to “abolish or sterilize politics” (Hillier, 2003: p. 41).
Drawing on this sentiment, Mouffe would charge collaborative planning with viewing conflicts as “unwelcome antagonism” (Agger, A., & Löfgren, 2008: p. 155) and falling in line with the post-political condition by supplanting conflict with “processes, instruments and narrative such as ‘governance,’ ‘community’ and ‘partnership’” (Allmendinger & Haughton, 2012: p. 92). Further, this in effect shifts conflicts into processes that reduce debate and whereby they can be contained, managed, and controlled by experts (Ibid). Such action
renders conflict as a menacing threat to the social order thereby requiring resolution and control (Flyvberg, 1998). Mouffe (2000) critiques this view by arguing that conflicts are an inevitable part of the social that represent differing opinions and voices thereby requiring recognition and space in democratic discussion (Mouffe, 2000). She notes that these voices may develop further conflict, however conflict is antagonistic (conflictual) in nature and can be transformed into agonism (understanding) amongst actors thereby providing productive value (Mouffe, 2000). In tandem, Flyvberg (1998) contends that engagement in such conflict is part of democracy; therefore suppressing conflict essentially suppresses voices and thereby suppresses freedom.
However, Rancière (2000) postulates that the techno-managerial controlled consensus processes do not provide for a form of “exercising democracy” (Rancière 2000 in Swyngedouw, 2007: p. 19), but instead negate the “democratic basis of politics” (Ibid) and seek to maintain the socio-political order. (Swyngedouw, 2007; Roy, 2015). In protecting the socio-political order, the process includes all within the “consensual pluralist order” (Swyngedouw, 2007: p. 12), but excludes those outside of consensus who may question or bring attention to the wrongs. This is fostered through the post-political condition as the focus on complete consensus as the outcome of conflict in collaborative processes is attributed to being a “dangerous and simplistic” (Mouffe, 1996 in Hillier, 2003: p. 42) notion. Mouffe (1996) argues that consensus requires completeness which is hinged on the creation of full inclusivity, however consensus creates exclusion therefore will always remain incomplete (Mouffe, 1996 in Bond, 2011). In essence, building consensus requires the formation of a comprehensive “we” through participation in a concerted unity. However, this “inclusive political unity” would render some form of exclusion as wherever there is a “we,” there is an excluded “them” (Hillier, 20031). Therefore, a decision rendered through the consensus process will never be fully inclusive, nor complete, as there will always be those who disagree with the outcome (Bond, 2011).
Swyngedouw (2007) prescribes that in the post-political world both ‘choice and freedom’ outside of those qualified by consensus are eluded. This is a result of the pacifying force of consensus whereby real dissent is subdued (Rancière, 2001). Rancière (2004) further argues that dissent and disagreement are essential components of democracy, and
thereby building consensus undermines democracy through quelling voices and disallowing real political debate to occur. In this vein, post-politics critiques collaborative planning whereby technocrats manage processes that deliberate “toward the intersubjective common good for all” thereby relegating dissent and disagreement to “near invisible” (Purcell, 2009: p. 149) and largely apolitical (Allmendinger & Haughton, 2012). As such, Rancière (2001) posits that consensus in the post-political world moves towards ending politics through the “annulment of dissensus” (Rancière, 2001: p. 32).
Thus, the excavation of the political grants the techno-managerial control to shape the dialogue in the consensus process (Agger, & Löfgren, 2008). As such, in the post-political world, consensus processes have been criticized as utilizing consensus as an instrument through which to address specific disagreements and circumventing those deemed unnecessary (Ozdemir & Tasan-Kok, forthcoming). In effect, this narrows debate, maintains the existing order and status quo, and thereby adapts democratic processes to benefit some and exclude others while “nurture[ing] the post-political condition” (Roy, 2015; Ozdemir & Tasan-Kok, forthcoming).
2.5 Research contribution
The research aims to contribute to existing literature on both collaborative planning theory and post-political theory. Current literature on collaborative planning theory lacks the provision of a structure framework; as such this research contributes a framework delineating the principles of the collaborative planning to building consensus. Further, there are a number of gaps in the post-political literature as application of the theory to planning is in its formative stages. As such, this research application of post-political theory in the consensus building in a planning process contributes to small pool of existing literature. Furthermore, post-political theory lacks a structured and organized framework thereby leaving room for interpretation, as such; this research aims to contribute a further interpretation of the post-political theory in application to planning as a critique of the democratic nature of consensus building. And lastly, this research demonstrates how the consensus building process can be utilized as a bypass mechanism for undesired outcomes in the post-political.3. Case study
Geographical and historical context
Lying to the east of downtown Vancouver is one of the city’s oldest neighbourhoods, Grandview-Woodland. As one of twenty-three small distinct “areas” that make up the City of Vancouver (City of Vancouver Grandview-Areas, 2017), Grandview-Woodland is known for its social and cultural diversity, eclecticism, political activism and awareness. Running through the center of Grandview-Woodland is the social and cultural hub of the neighbourhood, Commercial Drive. “The Drive,” as referred to by locals, is a vibrant and lively street filled with small locally owned cafes, boutiques, and restaurants boasting a diverse array of ethnic cuisine (King, 2011; Grandview-Woodland Community Plan, 2016). Figure 1: Map of Vancouver’s 23 areas with Grandview-Woodland highlighted in orange. (City of Vancouver, 2017) <http://vancouver.ca/home-property-development/grandview-woodland-community-plan.aspx>
Figure 5: Row of houses along Venables (near the
intersection of Venables and Commercial). Figure 7: Houses along side a 3-storey walk-up in Grandview-Woodland. Woodland. This bustling and vibranteastern suburb is often characterized as “old world charm meets modern hipness” (Grandview-Woodland Community Plan, 2016: p.12). The roads are lined with three and four-storey walk-ups, heritage row houses and 20th century “Queen Anne” style homes providing a unique streetscape for the 27,297 residents (Census of Statistics
Figure x: Figure 2 View of Commercial Drive looking south. <coherehousing.com> Figure 3: View of Commercial Drive looking north. <http://spacing.ca/vancouver/ 2016/08/02/will-new-community- plan-reverse-population-decline- vancouvers-grandview-woodland-neighbourhood> Figure 6: Row of houses in Grandview-Woodland area. <https://www.point2homes.com/CA/Real- Estate-Listings/BC/Vancouver/Grandview-Woodland.html> Figure 8: Houses along a street in Grandview-Woodland Figure 4: View of Commercial Drive looking north from the corner of 1st and Commercial. <https://elizabethmurphyblog.wordpress. com/2016/08/09/grandview-community-plan/>
Canada, 2011; Woodland Community Plan, 2016). Geographically, Grandview-Woodland is highly accessible as the area hosts the “region’s most significant transit interchange (Commercial/Broadway)” (Ibid), and is bound by four main traffic corridors that connect bicycle, vehicle and transit pathways into the broader networks and thorough through into the city proper, surrounding areas, and neighbouring cities.
Historically, transportation played an important role in the creation of Grandview-Woodland as 1891 brought the development and opening of the Interurban tramline (connecting Vancouver to the city of New Westminster) prompting the first house to be built in the area (City of Vancouver, Grandview Woodlands, 2017; Citizen's Assembly Final Report, 2015; Grandview-Woodland Community Profile, 2014). The following year a sign appeared at an interurban tram stop that read “Grand View” – as the location boasts a sweeping northern view of the mountains – thereby providing Grandview-Woodland with its name (Ibid). Shortly thereafter ushered in the development of a small population complied of “working class labourers, tailors, carpenters and teamsters” (Grandview-Woodland Community Plan, 2016: p. 12) mixed with a handful of wealthy landowners. In 1904, development sparked in the area with the installation of the city water system along Commercial Drive; in conjunction with the arrival of the local streetcar creating greater accessibility and connection to neighbouring areas, and thus establishing Grandview-Woodland as one of the earliest “streetcar suburbs” in Vancouver (City of Vancouver, Grandview Woodlands, 2017; Grandview-Woodland Community Plan, 2016).
Building an eclectic engaged and deeply passionate community
However, growth and building stagnated shortly after 1912 as the city was swept with a recession. This brought about a shift in the economic and political focus of the City of Vancouver that steered resources to center on neighbourhoods in Downtown and the Westside, and overlooked Grandview-Woodland and the Eastside (City of Vancouver, Grandview Woodlands, 2017). The low-cost of housing in Grandview-Woodland helped spur the stagnate growth following the First World War as an influx of immigration brought Eastern Europeans, Italians, Portuguese and Chinese settlers to the area – thus building the foundation for an ethnically diverse neighbourhood (Ibid). With the end of World War II, the area experienced a second wave of immigration from Italy, and as the Italian community
grew, a large concentration of Italian restaurants and shops sprung up along Commercial Drive leading the area to become known as “Little Italy” (Ibid). Diversity and growth continued to flourish in the 1950s and 1960s as residents from India, China and Vietnam immigrated to the area; and again in the 1980s as a wave of residents from Latin America made the area home.
The ethnic, social and cultural diversity within Grandview-Woodland has espoused the area with a reputation for being a socially tolerant community (Ley & Dobson, 2008). From the 1970s onward, the richly diverse social fabric of Grandview-Woodland deepened. Low rents, “old industrial spaces and neighbourhood ambience” (Ley & Dobson, 2008: p. 2487) attracted a larger demographic of artisans, creatives, political activists and members of the LGBTQ community to the area; and as a result, the development of a strong and “well established” leftist, LGBTQ, and counter-culture presence (Ibid). The area has long been characterized as an “eclectic, engaged, and deeply passionate community” (City of Vancouver - Grandview-Woodland Community Plan, 2016: p. 1) that is very politically active and aware. There is also a strong sense of social consciousness that is exhibited in the community’s many services that focus on the “needs of disadvantaged populations” (Ibid, p. 1); and advocacy in varying forms. Such as the formation of such community entities as the residents run Grandview-Woodland Area Council (GWAC) that serves to “represent the interests of Grandview-Woodland, to inform and activate its residents, and to advocate for the protection and enrichment of [the] community” (Grandview-Woodland Area Council, 2016).
Community activism and advocacy in planning activities
The GW Area Council is not a recent development; the body dates back to 1974 and is further pre-dated by a long history of activism and advocacy in the Grandview-Woodland community (Grandview-Woodland Area Council, 2016). As far back as 1907, residents organized and lobbied government to have the walkability of Commercial Drive improved to provide a safe alternative for children walking to school, as opposed to along the rail lines (Grandview-Woodland Community Plan, 2016). The shift in government focus to the Downtown and Westside in 1912, prompted the beginning of economic and political oversight and neglect for the Grandview-Woodland area (King, 2011). This witnessed the
beginning of a long-term history of activism and advocacy in the interests of the Grandview-Woodland area. In 1930, Commercial Drive merchants together with residents campaigned for the construction of a viaduct on First Avenue to create connection and thoroughfare to parts of the City (Grandview-Woodland Community Plan, 2016; King, 2011). The plans were rejected three times by voters, however they persevered and received agreement in 1934 (Ibid). Twenty years later, residents petitioned the government to repair “improper lighting, crumbling streets, and poor drainage” (City of Vancouver, Grandview Woodlands, 2017) and address the need for a community library; and in 1954 the streets were paved, streetlights installed, trolley tracks removed and bus service began (Ibid). However it took twenty years until the library was granted (Ibid). In 1970, residents successfully impeded plans to construct a highway through Grandview-Woodland to the downtown centre (Ibid); and ten years later GWAC and the community prevented the development of an eighteen-storey tower (No Tower Coalition Member 1, 2017; No Tower Coalition Member 2, 2017; No Tower Steering Committee Member 2, 2017). Community plan
The Grandview-Woodland community has long worked actively to preserve the integrity, character, and landscape of the area. In 1979, GWAC and the community became actively involved in the creation of the Grandview-Woodland Community Plan. A Community Plan begins as a planning process initiated by the City, and addresses matters pertaining to “land use, housing, urban design, transportation, parks and open space, community facilities, local economy, heritage, culture and public safety” (City of Vancouver Administrative Report, 2011: p.3). In the City of Vancouver, a plan intends to be a “forward looking document” (City of Vancouver Policy Report Development and Building, 2016: p. 4) that endeavours to “anticipate change before it happens” (Ibid) by providing “guidance to be used by those who have to face the realities and challenges of that future change” (Ibid); and to seize opportunities to improve neighbourhoods for future residents (Grandview-Woodland Community Plan, 2016). As the plan is community focused and encompasses a broad comprehensive scope, the development and creation includes participants from the “local community (residents, community groups, landowners etc,) non-profit organizations, city departments and affiliates, senior government department and agencies, and the development industry” (City of Vancouver Administrative Report, 2011: p.4). As such, the
Grandview-Woodland Community Plan took shape through a three-year process lead and shaped by the community with the planner assuming the role of a planning consultant to aid the process (Interview w/JK; City of Vancouver Administrative Report, 2011). Functionally, the plan operates “within the context of policy objectives established at the provincial/regional and city-wide scales” (City of Vancouver Administrative Report, 2011: p. 3) and typically forecast a 30 year trajectory. As such, the 1979-1982 Grandview-Woodland Community Plan produced a long-term forecast for the ensuing two-three decades (City of Vancouver Policy Report Development and Building, 2016). As the Grandview-Woodlands Community Plan began nearing the 30-year mark, the City had come under pressure with calls for neighborhood planning from communities with older community plans (City of Vancouver Administrative Report, 2011: p. 5). In response, City Council initiated a review and assessment of the older plans in order to deem those with priority for updating (Ibid, p. 5). As a result, in 2011 Grandview-Woodlands was selected for revision amongst two others for a variety of factors. As the City of Vancouver’s overall population was growing rapidly (rate of 36% from 2006-2011) with a population density being the highest across Canada (at 5,400 per square kilometer (Toronto Star, 2017; (City of Vancouver, 2017), the decreasing population (-3.33% growth from 2006-2011) of Grandview-Woodland goes against the trend presenting opportunity for area growth (City of Vancouver, 2017). Coupled with this decline is a significant decrease in school enrolment as the young segment of the population dwindles (City of Vancouver Policy Report Development and Building, 2016). The area hosts some of the more affordable housing stock in the city whereby 66% of the residents rent their dwellings deeming the highest percentage in the city (Grandview-Woodland Community Plan, 2016). In tandem, the area also has the “highest proportion of low-income and single-parent households, the highest unemployment rate, and the highest proportion of households that spend over 30% on rent” (City of Vancouver Administrative Report, 2011: p. 7) in the city. As such, these factors present a need for addressing the challenges facing the community, and provide areas for improvement and growth while further harnessing the opportunities for optimization in areas such as the Broadway-Commercial transit station that provides the “highest degree of access to transit services in the city” (City of Vancouver Policy Report Development and Building, 2016: p. 5).
In 2012 Council provided approval for the commencement of the Grandview-Woodland Community Plan revision. Thereafter in 2012 through to the early part of 2013, information was gathered, a draft community plan compiled, and in June of 2013 the draft proposal titled “Emerging Directions” was presented to the public at an open house (Grandview-Woodland Community Plan Backgrounder, 2013; Grandview-Woodland Citizen Assembly, 2017). The report received strong opposition from residents as it put forth plans for a number of high-rise towers – with one reaching thirty-five storeys – which was at odds with the bulk of the Grandview-Woodland area that had an Floor Space Ratio (FSR) of 3.0 and where 65% of the housing stock consisted of low-rise apartments buildings less than five-storeys (Figure 9) (Grandview-Woodland Community Profile, 2014).
In the sub-area of Britannia-Woodland, the northwest corner of Venables and Commercial became a particular point of contention. The area is amassed with two-three storey walk-ups alongside single-family and duplex housing with the far western edge donning one-two storey light-industrial buildings (Figure 10) (Grandview-Woodland Community Plan Draft, 2013); however the plan proposed a change to allow for an increased height and density of up to fourteen storeys (Figure 11) to a location that housed the Kettle Friendship. Figure 10: Grandview-Woodland Land Use Plan presenting the actual land-use of Grandview-Woodlands in 2013 and 2014. (City of Vancouver - Grandview-Woodland Community Profile, 2014)
Kettle Friendship Society
The release of the Emerging Directions catapulted the Kettle Friendship Society into the forefront of discussion. The Kettle is a non-profit organization that provides “housing, employment, advocacy and support services” (Kettle Friendship Society, 2017) for people living with mental illness that was founded by a group of twenty in 1976 (Ibid). The non-profit has 200 supportive housing units with 150 more under construction (Kettle Friendship Society, 2017); and the main drop-in centre in Grandview-woodland. The organization has multiple locations throughout the Greater Vancouver Regional District (GVRD), with the head office long residing in Grandview-Woodland (Ibid). As the demands for service grew, the non-profit partnered with Boffo Properties (Boffo) to formulate a redevelopment proposal that would amalgamate the adjoining properties (Figure 12 & 13). The Kettle and Boffo began working on a mixed-use development schema that would provide commercial units and market-rate condos, along with for a new facility and an increased number of supportive housing units for the non-profit (The Kettle-Boffo Project, 2016).
At the end of 2012, the Kettle Friendship Society in conjunction with Boffo held a community open house to introduce and promote awareness of the Kettle Friendship Society to the community, discuss their needs for expansion, and advise of their inclusion in
Figure 12: Kettle Friendship Society Building (Centre), and Boffo Properties (far right and far left). Google, 2017 < https://www.google.nl/maps/place/The+Kettle+Society/@49.2766337,-123.0700124,3a,90y,7.01h,85.59t/data=!3m7!1e1!3m5!1s0Shy3j2Tofn8fdwwlz2tZQ!2e0 !6s%2F%2Fgeo3.ggpht.com%2Fcbk%3Fpanoid%3D0Shy3j2Tofn8fdwwlz2tZQ%26output %3Dthumbnail%26cb_client%3Dmaps_sv.tactile.gps%26thumb%3D2%26w%3D203%26h %3D100%26yaw%3D168.01637%26pitch%3D0%26thumbfov%3D100!7i13312!8i6656!4 m5!3m4!1s0x548671158458976f:0x6690e2583e7a0b08!8m2!3d49.2767662!4d-123.0701232
Figure 13: Division of Property Ownership, Boffo Properties (blue, left and far right), Kettle Friendship Society (orange, centre), and City of Vancouver (yellow).< http://www.kettleboffo.com/faq/>
Figure 11: Emerging Directions proposed increase of height and density to the NW corner of Venables and Commercial Drive in purple. <Emerging Directions, 2013: p. 29>
the Grandview-Woodlands Community Plan planning process with the City (Kettle-Boffo Project Public Consultation Report, 2012). The Kettle presented to the thirty-five attendees and canvassed feedback on the notion of potential expansion, however did not present a development schema nor discuss height and density (Kettle-Boffo Project Public Consultation Report, 2012). The following July, shortly thereafter the release of the Emerging Directions draft proposal release, the Kettle and Boffo held a second community open house – inclusive of their architects and urban planning consultancy – and canvassed community attendees for input on a development with a height of 12-15 storeys (Kettle-Boffo Project Public Consultation Report, 2013). Responses at the open house voiced concern over the prospect of 12-15 storeys and suggested a lower height (Ibid).
Opposition to the Kettle-Boffo project
As word spread about Kettle’s discussion around the potential for a 12-15 storey tower coupled with the proposed changes in Emerging Directions to the height and density of the Kettle-Boffo properties; significant opposition emerged and the Kettle project became a focal point amongst residents. Height and density – which had long been ardently protected by the community – became critical issues of contention following the Emerging Directions release (Georgia Straight, 2013; Metro News, 2016; Vancouver Observer, 2014). Criticisms lamented the City for being “too developer friendly, too tone-deaf to citizens’ voices” (Vancouver Observer, 2014) and producing a plan that justifies the accusations (Ibid). Further in response, residents of the community came together and formed Our Community Our Plan (OCOP), a group that would represent a united voice in actively opposing the proposals put forth in the draft report. And shortly thereafter the formation, the No Tower Coalition formed with a specific focus on the Kettle-Boffo project. Thus, the initial public outcry from the community and subsequent concern around the Kettle-Boffo project picked up considerable traction in the media and drew in further public attention through the significant amount of media coverage.
