State,space and society: Public participation in the development of the Zenit Arena

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State, space and society: Public participation in

the development of the Zenit Arena

Luuk Peters s1793802 Master’s thesis

Russian and Eurasian Studies Leiden University

Faculty of Humanities Supervisor: Dr. M. Bader Netherlands Institute in Saint Petersburg

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State, space and society: Public

participation in the development of the

Zenit Arena

By Luuk Peters Leiden University

MA Russian and Eurasian Studies s1793802

Supervisor: Dr. M. Bader

Netherlands Institute in Saint Petersburg

Cover picture: own work

Logo Leiden University: Leiden University Logo Netherlands Institute in Saint Petersburg: Netherlands Institute in Saint Petersburg

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Acknowledgements

This thesis is the result of an intensive research, conducted in the Netherlands, Moscow and Saint Petersburg. During the last six months, I have come to learn a lot about spatial planning, governance and societal developments in Russia. In particular, I learned a lot about doing research and how to cope with difficulties, setbacks and disappointments that inevitably pop up while researching a delicate topic such as the Zenit Arena.

I would like to express my sincere gratitude to those who contributed in any way to my research and without whom I would not have been able to conclude it. First and foremost, I would like to thank my respondents for providing me with priceless and revealing insights in the nature of local spatial planning processes in Saint Petersburg, as well as elsewhere in Russia. Thanks to their contributions, I feel that I have obtained a solid grasp on the practice of governance networks in Russia and the role of society in them. I am also thankful to the Netherlands Institute in Saint Petersburg for providing me with assistance, advice and a scholarship without which I would not have been able to conduct my research in Russia. Furthermore, I would like to express my appreciation for the supervision of Dr. Max Bader.

Lastly, I would like to thank my friends in Moscow and Saint Petersburg for helping me out whenever I stumbled across a difficulty during my research and also for giving me the exact appropriate amount of distraction.

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Introduction

“Our World Cup has helped break many stereotypes about Russia. People have seen that Russia is a hospitable country, a friendly one for those who come here. Largely, this has been achieved by the efforts of our football fans. ”

Vladimir Putin, 6 July 2018

In the midst of the World Cup in Russia, Russian president Vladimir Putin received FIFA president Gianni Infantino to discuss the tournament. The mood was cheerful, as the organization – to the public eye – appeared to be flawless. In a joint press statement, Infantino complimented Russia stating that the World Cup was “exactly how Russia is”. Putin exploited the opportunity to tackle his fiercest Western critics by pointing at Russia’s hospitality and friendliness, for which he specifically thanked the Russian people (Reuters, 6 July 2018; The Guardian, 6 July 2018). Putin’s phrase “our World Cup” seems to suggest that the tournament was a collective success. Indeed, the tournament has been propagated as an event for the entire country, enabled by the joint effort of public, private and societal actors. But to what extent was this true? What was civil society’s function in the organization of the World Cup? Was there a role for civil society in the decision-making around World Cup-related developments? And what is civil society’s function in formal decision-making in general? This thesis sets out to examine whether civil society is integrated in local governance networks in Russia, by focusing on a spatial development project related to the World Cup - the stadium in Saint Petersburg (hereafter Zenit Arena). There were several reasons for selecting this case. Firstly, spatial decision-making processes should to some extent be participatory, since interventions in public space by definition concern the public. Secondly, the stadium– being part of the World Cup – was among the country’s priority spatial developments and closely related to local and federal leaderships, which makes it a suitable case for studying the relationship between authorities and society. Thirdly, the turbulent history of the development of the stadium implies that the Zenit Arena has been the topic of a fierce societal debate, which gives society all the more reason to participate. Fourthly, because of the project’s scope and amount of attention given to its development, the Zenit Arena is firmly anchored in the collective memory.

This thesis aims to provide insight in the nature of formal decision-making processes in Russia and hereby contribute to the existing planning theory and literature on participatory governance, as well as to literature studying civil society in (semi-)authoritarian states. By analyzing public participation in a particular case, an important understanding of how the seemingly democratic principle of public participation in practice works out in Russia can be obtained. The research question that this study aims to answer is the following:

What does the development of the Zenit Arena reveal about the involvement of civil society in Russia in decision-making and the relationship between society and state?

This research question will be answered according to the following structure. Chapter 1 starts off by providing an overview of the academic literature on the function of public participation in spatial planning, Russian civic culture and the peculiarities of Russia’s spatial planning system. Chapter 2 outlines the methodology exploited to collect data. In chapter 3, the development of the Zenit Arena

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2 will be reviewed, after which chapter 4 discusses the legislative framework. Chapter 5 analyzes the attitude of the authorities towards involving civil society in decision-making. In conclusion, chapter 6 outlines the societal attitude towards participating in formal decision-making networks and the relationship between state and society.

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1. Academic overview

This chapter reviews the relevant academic literature, grouped in five topics: planning theory, development of civil society in Russia, decision-making culture in Russia, Russia’s spatial planning system and the particular urban context of Saint Petersburg.

1.1 Planning theory: Planning as a collaborative process

Spatial planning has increasingly been understood as an interactive process in which a wide variety of stakeholders participates. In planning theory, focus shifted from rational planning, emphasizing the end result of a spatial project, to a process-based discourse that Healey (1996; 1998; 2002; 2003; 2015) describes as collaborative planning. A collaborative planning process contains five core features. First, inclusion of all stakeholders is required. A spatial project concerns not only planner and user, but anyone who has a certain interest: concerned civilians, entrepreneurs, environmentalists etc. Each actor seeks to influence outcomes in their desired way. Second, the planner acts as central mediator and is obliged to consider all concerns and interests. Third, all decisions should be reached by means of collaborative communication. Fourth, location-specific context, qualities and legislation have to be taken into account. Fifth, as by definition planning remains a governmental activity, the authorities remain responsible for facilitating the process (Healey, 1998, p. 16-17).

1.1.1 Emergence of collaborative planning

The collaborative planning discourse is rooted in socio-economic developments in Western societies throughout the twentieth century. Rapid urbanization in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century paired with social problems, such as injustice, disorganization and polarization. The urban population segregated and its interests were diversified among various societal groups and cultural milieus. (Healey, 2002; 2015). Economic development empowered the increasingly educated population to pursue their own interests. Spatial planning had to cope with the fact that due to the decreased homogeneity, consensus was a lot harder to find (Healey, 2003; Needham, 2005). Spatial development was hindered, as blueprint-planning proved to be incapable of adapting to a new, dynamic and empowered society. Instead, the fragmented socio-spatial dynamics and increased multiplicity of urban life required diversity in urban decision-making. Spatial plans had to be tailored to the specific contexts of the neighborhood, city or region (Healey, 1996; Spit & Zoete, 2009). In Western societies, this increased urban heterogeneity fit within the emerging mainstream of democratic thinking. In the twentieth century, a new sense of public realm emerged: people felt increasingly detached from the traditional administrative apparatus and wanted to actively contribute. The increased notion of democratic values and willingness to participate was reflected in planning. (Fainstein & Fainstein, 1971; Friedmann, 1998; Needham, 2005.)

A more recent aspect that stimulated the collaborative nature of planning, is the (partial) retreat of the state from some traditional activities. The state has given more room to the market to take responsibility. Public-private partnerships started dominating the realm of spatial planning. During planning processes, the planner is concerned with generating consensus, requiring a less directive approach and instead urging to be responsive to the diverse concerns of stakeholders (Friedmann, 1998; Needham, 2005).

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4 Urbanization, diversification, democratization and privatization imply that rational planning is outdated. The technocratic idea of implementing top-down plans to effectively fulfill ambitions fell short in a bottom-up society, where both market and civic actors demanded to play a bigger role (Healey, 2015). The single truth that was assumed in blueprint-planning was challenged by the multiplicity of rationalities that emerged (Davy, 2008; Hartmann, 2012).

1.1.2 Motives for collaborative planning

The first underlying motive, is the democratic principle: it is only just to involve civic and market actors in decision-making. This ‘inclusionary ethic’ (Healey, 1996, p. 224) emphasizes the authorities’ moral duty to translate this to the decision-making arena: in a democratized society, people do not only expect a socially just distribution of pros and cons of decisions, but also to have a say in the decision-making itself. This is closely connected to the notion of the ‘Right to the City’, grounded in the ideas of Henri Lefebvre: the everyday experience of consuming a city entitles one to shape it (Purcell, 2013). According to Harvey (2003, p. 939), “the ‘Right to the City’ is not merely a right of

access to what already exists, but a right to change it after our heart's desire.” In this context, the

interactivity of spatial planning has become a necessity for both society and planner: it delivers to the societal demands of inclusivity, while simultaneously serves as societal legitimization of the plans (De Bruijn & Leijten, 2008). Second, collaborative planning enhances the quality of the plan through deliberation. Planners can benefit by learning from diverse rationalities (Healey, 1996; Davy, 2008; Verweij et al., 2013 ). Collaboration can generate synergy, leading to new, creative and innovative ideas. Also, it can reduce costs. (Klein & Van Twist, 2007). Third, participation can shape participants’ sense of themselves and their community (Healey, 2003, p. 111). Civilian involvement can enhance social coherence in a fragmented urban landscape.. To societal actors, participation is not just about having access to urban resources: “it is a right to change ourselves by changing the city.” (Harvey, 2008, p.23). Lastly, a Habermassian interpretation of the function of civil society in the public sphere implies that a broad range of stakeholders can serve as a watchdog: “Its function as a critical judge is

precisely what makes the public character of proceedings meaningful” (Habermas, 1991, p. 2). This

function of civil society is particularly relevant in planning processes for spatial plans that are of great social or economic significance. Collaboration with a broad range of civic and market stakeholders can diminish the opportunity of disturbances (Flyvbjerg, 2008; Priemus,2008)

1.1.3 Critics

Despite consensus about the necessity of engaging stakeholders, the concept of collaborative planning has been criticized for being overly optimistic. The major criticism addresses the feasibility. Booher (2008) questions the possibility of total inclusivity in a heterogeneous and fragmented society. Boonstra and Boelens (2011) add that collaboration is often not complete or genuine, for it is the planner who decides whom to include. Assuming that the planner aims to implement plans close to his initial ideas, it can be tempting to ignore opposing ideas. Furthermore, there is no guarantee that participants with diverging rationalities through deliberation can design a strong plan. Often, different expectation make it complicated to find common grounds (Healey, 1996). Lastly, Hajer and Zonneveld (2000) argue that the inclusion of a variety of actors all too often serves as a support machine: actors are included to legitimize plans that the authorities already decided on. These criticisms are not to say that collaborative planning is utopian; they merely emphasize the importance of attitude of the planner.

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5 Healey (1996, p. 2) describes the task of the planner as follows: “[Planning] requires ways of 'giving

voice' to all members, even though they cannot all be 'present' in any discussion. It requires sorting through an array of issues—problems, arguments, claims for policy attention, ideas about what to do, fears of what will happen—to identify those which, for the various members, it makes sense to pay attention to. It involves moving beyond learning about the ways of understanding, and the agenda of ideas already available among community members, to developing new ideas about what to think, what to care about and what to do.” In practice, collaborative planning sometimes seems difficult to

maintain. Moreover, the theory is based on democratizing developments in Western societies. But how does collaborative planning hold in societies that followed another development path? The remainder of this chapter discusses the nature of spatial planning in Russia, by addressing developments in Russian civil society and political culture, the planning system inherited from Soviet times and the urban context of Saint Petersburg.

1.2 Civil society in Russia

1.2.1 The Soviet legacy

During Soviet times most social and political activity was controlled by the state. Rather than voluntarily, participation through civilian movements was seen as a patriotic duty (Ljubownikow et al., 2013; Buxton & Konovalova, 2013). Autonomous organizations were frequently suppressed, frustrating the development of a genuine participatory culture. (Bahry & Silver, 1990). However, it is a common misconception that civil society was completely inert. Grassroots movements existed on the lowest level (Ljubownikow et al., 2013). This activity was informal, apolitical, economic and individualized, rather than a collective attempt to influence policy-making. Most people did not believe they could influence policy and where not interested in doing so (DiFranceisco & Gitelman, 1983; Bahry & Silver, 1990). For collective participation, civil society lacked trust vis-à-vis institutions. Ljubownikow et al. (2013) describe the Soviet society as an hourglass society, in which elite and lower class were largely separated, with only marginal possibilities to interact (figure 1.1).

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1.2.2 The turbulent 1990s

The transition of the 1990s affected civil society in Russia in many ways. Privatization implied that the state withdrew from many of its responsibilities. The void that emerged had to be filled by civil society, which was not ready to do so. Partly, it was filled by mafia-like networks, seeking to exploit the state’s weaknesses. Rather than stimulating an autonomous civil society, over-withdrawal gave room for excessive self-enrichment. Moreover, civic movements were limited in their activities due to lack of resources. Attracting funding from foreign donors solved this issue. In many respects, foreign funding had positive effects: for example, it stimulated dialogue on human rights and feminism. However, it also implied that the agendas of the movements were set by foreign actors, undermining the societal legitimacy of civic organizations. This hampered the development of an active civil society. Nevertheless, society fragmentized and grassroots movements emerged and progressed (Ljubowknikov et al., 2013; Buxton & Konovalova, 2013).

1.2.3 Civil society in contemporary Russia

The inheritance of the Soviet past and the 1990s has shaped civil society in present-day Russia. The absence of free-market relations not only affected economic thinking, but also social processes. Social capital, understood by Makarenko (2015) as “a system of horizontal connections whereby

people are able to arrive at creative solutions and come together for socially meaningful purposes, including in the political domain”, still has to be built. However, civic culture is slowly but steadily

developing. Significantly, adaptation to market relations taught people to rely less on the state (Makarenko, 2015). According to Greene (2017), “self-reliant Russians are not a peripheral social

group, not a marginal class, but a significant and growing group.” Furthermore, Breslauer (2017)

argues that this group is not a passive mass. Rather, they can be activated when demanded. However, the overall level of regular civic engagement remains marginal. Pollsters by Levada, conducted between 2006 and 2016, reveal that the majority of Russian civilians does not feel it can actively influence public policy. In 2016, 87% answered the question “Can people like you influence

government decisions in the country?” with “probably not” or “definitely not” (table 1.1). When the

same question was asked regarding the region, city or neighborhood, a similar pattern was revealed (table 1.2). Moreover, in 2016, 80% indicated that they were (probably) not ready to actively participate in local, regional or national politics (table 1.3). However, the fact that 18% indicated that they are personally ready to participate reveals that, albeit by a minority, demand for civic participation in decision-making exists (Levada, 2016). Also, civil society made some achievements that should not be underestimated by filling in voids left open by the government, such as charity, arts, human rights and education. Furthermore, grassroots self-organizational initiatives emerged in the form of business associations and homeowner organizations (Makarenko, 2015). However, these successes remain poorly known to the public. The rarity of successes prevents civil society to develop itself as a partner for the state.

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Table 1.1: Can people like you influence government decisions in the country? (Levada, 2016)

Feb.06 Oct.07 Feb.10 Jan.12 Mar.13 Mar.14 Mar.15 Aug.16

Definitely yes 2 3 2 4 3 1 3 1

To some degree yes 13 21 12 15 10 11 15 11

Probably not 39 31 34 28 35 38 38 38

Definitely not 45 41 51 51 49 47 40 49

It is difficult to say 2 5 2 2 4 3 4 1

Table 1.2: Can people like you influence decisions in your region, city, neighborhood? (Levada, 2016)

Feb.06 Feb.10 Jan.12 Mar.13 Mar.14 Mar.15 Aug.16

Definitely yes 3 2 3 2 1 4 1

To some degree yes 21 16 21 14 18 18 16

Probably not 36 34 27 34 38 35 38

Definitely not 39 46 47 46 41 39 43

It is difficult to say 2 2 4 4 2 4 2

Table 1.3: Are you personally ready to play a more active role in politics? (Levada, 2016)

Feb.06 Feb.10 Jan.12 Mar.13 Mar.14 Mar.15 Aug.16

Definitely yes 5 5 3 3 2 5 3

To some degree yes 14 14 14 13 17 18 15

Probably not 30 31 31 35 39 33 34

Definitely not 47 46 47 45 36 38 46

It is difficult to say 4 4 6 5 6 7 2

Differentiation in development has led to uneven patterns of civic engagement. Zubarevich (2015) provides a model of Russian regional differentiation by distinguishing between four Russia’s. First Russia comprises the cities of over 500.000 inhabitants, where people enjoy higher educational and living standards, are connected to the world and have more job opportunities. The tertiary sector is bigger than elsewhere and a small business sector is well-developed. These conditions allow ‘angry urbanites’ to emerge, particularly in Moscow and Saint Petersburg, targeting the moral deficit of Putinism: the vertical power structure, human rights and corruption. Second Russia includes the smaller cities (50.000 – 250.000; cities between 250.000 - 500.000 can be classified in both First and Second Russia). In these cities, the share of industrial employment and the public sector is larger. Small business development is hampered by the lack of consumption power and institutional constraints. People heavily rely on the authorities, since they either work in the public sector or in a subsidized industry. Public activism is lower and instead of politically motivated instigated by economic factors. Third Russia encompasses towns and settlements, with a declining population that is distanced from the state. People do not actively participate in formal frameworks, but rather provide for vital services themselves. Large parts of the population are independent from the state, whereas those working in the public sector cling onto their jobs. Fourth Russia comprises underdeveloped republics in the North Caucasus and South Siberia where the center-periphery relations of First, Second and Third Russia do not reflect reality. Urban economies are clan-based and

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8 the shadow economy predominates. The clan system, power struggles and ethnic and religious conflicts hamper societal modernization, leading to low levels of participation (Zubarevich, 2015).

1.3 Decision-making culture

Decision-making in Russia shows a remarkable selectivity of usage of development theories. On the one hand, the emergence of an engaged private sector and active civil society are verbally being encouraged, while on the other hand the power vertical remains strong (Kinossian & Morgan, 2014). Indeed, market actors participate, but participation occurs in environments that are highly patronized, where rule of law is weak and nepotism prevails. Authorities encourage bottom-up initiatives, while still acting as regulating structure. Thus, even the market and civic participants in decision-making are de facto controlled by the authorities (Hale, 2017).

1.3.1 Institutionalization of public participation

The Russian government verbally recognizes the importance of the role of society in governance. In many areas, governance networks including civil society have been established by the authorities to gather expertise and reduce institutional dysfunctionalities (Kropp & Schuhmann, 2016). According to Owen (2016, p. 352), there are three reasons to integrate civil society in decision-making. First, it is argued that civilians are the backbone of economic development as they come up with innovative ideas. Second, civil society can monitor and prevent corruption. Third, involving civilians can shrink the bureaucracy and enhance efficiency. Public participation was institutionalized in March 2005, when the Federal Public Chamber was established as a mediating agent between state and society. Its tasks were to assess legislation, monitor the government and to ensure freedom of speech (Chebankova, 2012, p. 398; Owen, 2016, p. 342). Furthermore, throughout the 2000s a wide variety of civic forums, public-private partnerships, think-tanks and similar initiatives were established. (Chebankova, 2012, p. 398; Aaslund et al., 2016, p. 148-149).

1.3.2 Limitations

However, there are significant limitations for genuine participation. It is argued that the Public Chamber merely serves to “legitimize the government’s increasingly authoritarian policies” (Buxton & Konovalova, 2013, p. 777). Its members are in equal proportions being selected by the president, regional governments and public organizations. This leaves little room for independent organizations, especially since many public organizations involved are linked to the authorities. (Chebankova, 2012, p. 399). Moreover, legislation constrained the development of inclusive governance networks. For instance, the federal law on NGOs impeded the registration of both new NGOs as well as the re-registration of established organizations. The activities of NGOs were further limited by the notorious ‘foreign agents law’ in 2012, requiring NGOs that receive foreign funding to register as a foreign agent (Ljubownikow et al., 2013; Aaslund et al., 2016). Perhaps even more significant than this constraining legislation, is the consequence of the overall weakness of rule of law. This mplies that even legislation that would oblige civic participation can easily be ignored (Kropp & Schuhmann, 2016).

Many governance networks have de facto been captured by the elite. Civic organizations that the authorities consider to be loyal are allowed to participate, whereas the inclusion of oppositional actors is often avoided. The possibility of participants to critically interfere is, in many cases, modest. This hampers civil society from developing into a critical watchdog (Aaslund et al., 2016; Buxton, 2016). Paradoxically, the seemingly pluralist structure of the networks serves as a democratic

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9 legitimization to the regime. Another factor is that governance networks seldom concern high-level decision-making. Rather, they are decorative bodies without actual decision-making power. Lastly, the normative nature of policy-making in Russia implicates that whoever wants to influence policies needs to be legally well-informed. Usually, government institutions have the best legal resources, whereas civilians lack a grasp of legal knowledge (Aaslund et al., 2016).

1.4 Russian spatial planning

Russia’s spatial planning apparatus had a different development from the Western models. In the centralized Soviet system, local and regional planning systems were virtually non-existent. In post-Soviet Russia, a spatial planning system had to be built from scratch. This section covers the development from Soviet planning, through the turbulences of the 1990s, into a more localized and differentiated organism.

1.4.1 Soviet planning

Spatial developments in the Soviet Union were characterized by centralization, standardization, industrialization, economization and absence of legislation. Industrial cities were seen as the motors of economic development and essential for egalitarian space. Planning apparatuses in most cities, however, were absent (Hamm, 1977). General Plans for cities were drawn by Gosstroy, the State Committee for Construction, according to the directives from Gosplan, the State Planning Committee responsible for economic planning. This made spatial planning an ultra-centralized field, executed for the city instead of with the city (Shaw, 1983, p. 394; Shove & Anderson, 1997, p. 214). Until the late 1970s, General Plans for cities all over the Soviet Union were designed in Moscow or Leningrad (Iyer, 2003, p. 207). Essentially, all city plans addressed similar matters – economic development, infrastructure, housing – and norms for constructions were standardized according to the minimal needs, lacking notion for local contexts and disparities, leading to visible uniformity of city landscapes (Golubchikov, 2004). Another feature of Soviet spatial planning was its focus on industrialization and economic development. Gosplan’s directives were economically driven and targeted a rapid increase of production. Thus, economic planning predominated in the majority of General Plans (Obolensky-Ossinsky, 1935; Huzinec, 1978; Shaw, 1983). Moreover, the long-term objectives of the General Plan (which usually set the development aims for 25-30 years) were trumped by Gosplan’s five-year plans targeting rapid development. This different horizon and preference given to the five-year plans meant that General Plans seldom were fully fulfilled (Hamm, 1977, p. 64; Iyer, 2003, pp. 206-207. Lastly, the Soviet planning system lacked legislation, as the centralized command nature did not require a legislative framework. The lack of private ownership meant that property rights were not an issue. Mediation between different groups was not necessary (Golubchikov, 2004). Overall, this centralized, standardized and economized nature of spatial plans, without notion for local circumstances, led Hamm (1977, p. 67) to conclude that “ironically, in the land of superplanning,

urban plans did not exist in half of all Russian cities”.

1.4.2 1990s: Starting from scratch

After the collapse of communism, spatial planning had to cope with unanticipated problems. The sudden introduction of market mechanisms, property and appreciation of location resulted in the realization that the old system was no longer suitable. In the light of the broader trend of state withdrawal, the central authorities rapidly retreated from spatial developments, leading to an ad hoc model of laissez-faire development (Golubchikov, 2004; 2017; Dixon, 2010). Among the new trends was the transfer of decision-making from Moscow to the regions. In many regions, decentralization

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10 disrupted existing networks in favor of the regional administrations, who exploited this power to pursue short-term political goals rather than long-term spatial development. Decentralization was carried out in the absence of a local planning apparatus and institutional infrastructure, which enabled local elites to capture the spatial development resources for their own benefit.

The planning apparatus had to be aware of a new urban context. According to Golubchikov (2016, p. 607), “the urban is the central stage where ideology mixes with the everyday, through which the

societal change is mediated; new meanings, social relations, and class divisions are construed; and through which ideological transition achieves its practical completeness”. New market systems of

consumption, properties and location introduced a new type of society, with more variation, inequality and social differences. Furthermore, a more market-based society gave ordinary citizens the notion that they could achieve things themselves (Shove & Anderson, 1997). Fueled by the euphoria with which the introduction of ‘the market’ had been received, the central authorities responded by retreating from spatial planning, leaving developments over the “the market” (Golubchikov, 2004).

Despite all changes, many outdated, inflexible Soviet laws and regulations still applied (Shove & Anderson, 1997, p. 217). The planning system was still centered on Gosstroy, which was gradually losing its grip over local developments. The lack of a legislative framework allowed for an unprecedentedly high number of construction permits being awarded, enabling rapid constructions by private parties seeking to obtain quick rents (Shove & Anderson, 1997, p. 217; Golubchikov, 2004, p. 233). The notion of necessity of a legislative framework grew. This culminated in 1998 with the adoption of the Urban Development Code. It addressed issues that previously had not been taken into account, such as sustainability and appreciation of public participation. Within the hierarchic structure, the General Plan remained the key document; however, in contrast to the Soviet era, the General Plan now had to be designed at the local level considering the local context. The Code was influenced by Western models of spatial development, and attempted to create some structure in the chaotic developments of the 1990s. However, is was only limitedly successful in providing an all-compassing framework. The sheer copying of Western-style documentation was often not suitable for the Russian contexts. Furthermore, the Code was criticized for contributing little to an actual reform of spatial planning at the local level, as the framework for governance was not strong enough. Most General Plans for cities still stemmed from the 1970s or 1980s, when they were centrally designed. By 1999, for over 3000 cities, only about 200 cities had modernized General Plans (Golubchikov, 2004). Decentralization, a renewed urban context and the legislative vacuum resulted in the development of Russian spatial planning in an undefined and uncontrolled monster which resulted in haphazard constructions instead of long-term plans. Between 1990 and 1999, Russia’s built up land (excluding roads) increased from 30.000 km2 to 54.000 km2 (Golubchikov, 2004, p. 233).

1.4.3 Spatial planning in contemporary Russia

In 2004, Russia’s spatial planning system was given new impetus by the introduction of a new Urban Development Code. This Code aimed to overcome the shortcomings of its predecessor and introduced a new hierarchy of spatial plans, putting more responsibilities in the hands of the municipal administrations. General Plans remained dominant, containing a map of the functional areas of the city, boundaries and provisions on territorial planning. Contrary to their Soviet equivalents, General Plans are not considered directives, but rather to set out general development goals. The General Plan became the basis for a new type of documentation: the Rules of Land Use

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and Development. The Rules contain more specific sub-zoning, ordinances and regulation for

developments and are in this way close to the European and American zoning plans. The Rules cover a smaller territory than the General Plans; whereas the General Plan outlines the general development of the entire city, the Rules are designed for every city district. The third document in the hierarchy, the Territorial Planning Project, establishes the zoning and development regulations of a particular land plot or a smaller territory within a city district (Federal Assembly of the Russian Federation, 29 December 2004). This new hierarchy (figure 1.2) of spatial planning documents aimed to establish a stronger legal framework for spatial development decisions which would make the decision-making process more transparent (Dixon, 2010; Beregovskih et al., 2010).

Figure 1.2: Structure of spatial planning documents (own work)

The 2004 Code was promulgated as an attempt to increase the extent of civic involvement in spatial decision-making. Notably, the Code obliged the organization of public hearings on the design of those spatial planning documents, as well as on amendments to these documents (Golubchikov, 2004; Beregovskih et al., 2010). The framework for public participation in spatial decision-making will be analyzed in more detail in chapter 4.

In Russian spatial planning, the mayor/governor remains the key figure, with public-private relationships resembling a vertical structure with the mayor/governor at the top. In this structure, spatial developments are dependent on the whims of the person in charge. Planning is a reflection of the mayor/governor’s vision, rather than a compromise (Iyer, 2003, p. 207; Golubchikov, 2004, pp. 240-241). This is particularly evident in Moscow (under development-minded mayors Yuri Luzhkov and Sergey Sobyanin), and Saint Petersburg (under former governor Valentina Matvienko). Throughout the 2000s, these cities witnessed numerous ambitious construction projects, which were initiated and led by the authorities, aimed at improving the cities’ international image and attracting more private investments (Kinossian, 2012).

For the first fifteen years after the collapse of communism, a coherent national strategy has been absent. The desire to design such strategy culminated in 2005 in the Draft Strategy of Socioeconomic

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12 of equalization under socialism had led to a misallocation of urban resources. Instead, development had to be focused on a number of urban agglomerates, which would act as locomotives of economic growth, with Moscow and Saint Petersburg as ‘world cities’. Although this draft was never formally approved, it indicated the government’s vision on spatial development, targeting the attraction of large international corporations, foreign investments and institutions. (Golubchikov, 2010, p. 633; 2017; Kinossian & Morgan, 2014, p. 1684). A specific element of this strategy has been the organization of mega-events as a catalyst of development. Examples of this are the 2012 APEC summit in Vladivostok, the Summer Universiade in Kazan, the 2014 Winter Olympics in Sochi and the 2018 FIFA World Cup. (Kinossian & Mogan, 2014, pp. 1679; Golubchikov et al., 2014, pp. 628-629; Golubchikov, 2017). According to Kinossian and Morgan (2014, p. 1691), the organization of these events is characterized by direct federal intervention at the local level and the temporary suspension of planning procedures.

1.5 The urban context of Saint Petersburg

1.5.1 Civil society

According to its Strategy of Economic and Social Development of up to 2030 (2014), Saint Petersburg

“has always adhered to the European values of the development of society”. The fact that civil society

is more multinational, multicultural and higher educated than in most regions, makes its more diverse and active than Russia’s averages. The city’s socioeconomic lead over the other regions besides Moscow allows for above average living standards, which in turn stimulate urban activism (Aaslund et al., 2016). However, the authorities acknowledge that although civil society in the city is

“sufficiently developed […], the state of civil society and the development of its institutions in Saint Petersburg, as well as in Russia as a whole, cannot be considered appropriate for the level of countries with developed democracies.” (Legislative Assembly of Saint Petersburg, 13 May 2014).

Yurchak (2011) argues that spatial characteristics are among the main contributors to the above average civic culture in Saint Petersburg. This is strongly connected to urban aesthetics and the European architecture that distinguishes Saint Petersburg from other Russian cities. During late socialism, informal social milieus that more and more wished to distinguish themselves from the collectivity of socialism were emerging. Saint Petersburg’s unique architectural traits were key in the notion of society as having a distinct identity. In Yurchak’s words (2011, p. 8) “urban aesthetics

provided these people with means of becoming ‘non-Soviet’ persons”. The social groups that

emerged around the idea to emphasize spatial attributes would develop into the city’s first large-scale oppositional movement in 1987, when the city administration decided that the monumental hotel Angleterre had to be demolished and rebuild to modern standards. Thousands of people took to the streets to demonstrate against the demolition. These events marked the emergence of large-scale civic awareness and activism grounded in the idea of preserving the city (Yurchak, 2011).

1.5.2 Spatial developments

By the mid-1990s, the authorities of Saint Petersburg had acknowledged the need for a structuralized spatial planning system. The Committee on Urban Development and Architecture sought to improve by gaining inspiration from western examples. Staff members were schooled at European and American universities and cooperation agreements were signed with the EU and Barcelona (Dixon, 2010, p. 40). A city strategy was completed by 1996 and found its legal basis in the adoption of a new General Plan in 2005. In the General Plan, the main development goals for the period up to 2025

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13 were set as “a stable improvement in the quality of life of all segments of the population”,

“preservation of architectural heritage” and “the formation of Saint Petersburg as a multifunctional city integrated into the Russian and world economy”. The General Plan distinguished seven types of

functional zones: residential zones; public- and business zones; production zones; zones of

engineering and transport infrastructures and objects of external transport; agricultural zones; recreational zone; and special purpose zones (such as cemeteries, landfills and military facilities)

(Legislative Assembly of Saint Petersburg, 21 December 2005). Based on the General Plan, Rules of Land Use and Development were developed for all municipal districts and adopted in 2006. Urban activists viewed the Rules as a step in the right direction, as it provided a more coherent and transparent framework (Dixon, 2010). Also, laws were adopted to ensure public involvement in the decision-making. These laws are to be analyzed in chapter 4.

One of the focus points of the new strategy was the integration of Saint Petersburg in the world economy. The ‘world city’ scenario for Saint Petersburg traces back to the first post-Soviet mayor, Anatoly Sobchak, whose neoliberal policies were based on privatization and attracting financial institutions with the aim of rapid integration in the global system. However, this did not have the desired result: the urban economy plummeted, leading to Sobchak losing the 1996 election to Vladimir Yakovlev, who became governor. Yakovlev let go of the global ambitions and focused instead on solving the city’s most acute local problems. When Putin became president, the development of Saint Petersburg was given a new impulse by the establishment of foreign companies and firms in the city. Nevertheless, the level of foreign direct investment remained low at the entrance of new governor Matvienko (Turnbull, 2005, p. 220; Golubchikov, 2010, pp. 631-632). Her term (October 2003 - August 2011) was development-minded, desiring to raise the city onto the global level. This was included in the Concept of Socioeconomic Development of Saint Petersburg until 2025 that introduced the desired development of the city into “a world city open to the world

and Russia’s largest international center for business, political, and cultural interactions”

(Golubchikov, 2010, p. 633). One of the aspects in the strategy to become a world city, was the implementation of large construction projects that Matvienko repeatedly referred to as “locomotive

projects”, intended to boost foreign investments and serve as catalyst to the city’s economic

development (Dixon, 2010, p. 36). These included the construction of the new ring road, the dam in the Gulf of Finland, the Marine Façade and the new headquarters of Gazprom (Golubchikov, 2010). Under Matvienko’s successor Georgy Poltavchenko, the construction boom came to an end.

1.5.3 Instrumental case: The Gazprom Center

The attempt to turn Saint Petersburg into a world city clashed with societal concern about identity on various occasions, the most significant being the development of a new Gazprom headquarters. This project has been an instrumental case of civic dissatisfaction with the authorities’ globalized policies and evidence of the value of civic activism. In November 2006, the idea of constructing a skyscraper that would serve as Gazprom’s new head office was announced. For the authorities, the construction of the skyscraper was of major importance, as it would lure Russia’s biggest energy company to Saint Petersburg. It was a symbol for the city’s ambitions. The opted location was the area of Okhta, across river Neva from the Smolny Cathedral in the inner city. The choice sparked dissatisfaction as it would affect Saint Petersburg’s skyline. Saint Petersburg’s signature characteristic is its low-rise skyline. For preservation of this urban landscape, throughout history height regulations were incorporated in the planning system. For centuries, buildings could not exceed the height of the Winter Palace (23.5 meters), although exceptions were made for church domes and spires, such as the dome of Saint

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14 Isaac’s Cathedral (101.5 meters). Although in Soviet times high-rise buildings were introduced in Saint Petersburg, the city center remained largely unchanged (Dixon, 2010, p. 35; Lavrov & Perov, 2016, p. 191). The announcement of a 396 meter tall skyscraper severely violated these norms. In reaction, the Union of Architects of Russia boycotted the design competition and the UNESCO World Heritage Committee hinted to remove the inner city from the World Heritage List were the project to be implemented (Golubchikov, 2010, p. 638; Lavrov & Perov, 2016, p. 193). Dissatisfaction was not limited to professionals: it also ignited fury among citizenry. This was demonstrated by largescale public protests in 2007, known as ‘Marches for the Defense of Saint Petersburg’. At first small and disorganized, the Marches quickly gained size and weight, with approximately ten thousand civilians going out to the street. For some time, the authorities were unwilling to consider the complaints. However, in December 2010, president Dimitry Medvedev announced the relocation of the skyscraper from Okhta to Lakhta, an area on the north shore of the Gulf of Finland nine kilometers away from the city center. Although it is impossible to assess whether the public outcry was the decisive factor in the decision to relocate the skyscraper, it is highly probable that the public protest contributed to his decision at least to some extent (Yurchak, 2011).

1.6 Conclusion

In sum, well-performing spatial planning processes have a collaborative character, to comply with civilians’ Right to the City. Also, the inclusion of different viewpoints and expertise could enhance the quality of the spatial project. For society, it can help shaping self-awareness, identity- and community-building and social capital. Lastly, civil society can act as critical arbiter or watchdog. However, this notion of collaborative planning developed in the context of Western-style processes of urbanization and democratization, when authorities realized that an increasingly diverse, critical and engaged society had a role to play in decision-making. Civil society in Russia developed differently. It is therefore doubtful whether the collaborative planning theory holds when applied in a Russian context. The remainder of this thesis analyzes the involvement of civil society in spatial planning processes in Russia, in particular in Saint Petersburg. Civil society in this city is understood to be the most active in Russia. Spatial developments are of particular concern, as the city’s architecture and historical center shape a unique identity which people are willing to protect. This has been the motor of the development of the urban civic culture and continues to play a big role in civic activism.

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2. Methodology

This research builds on the analysis of three components. Firstly, the frameworks of legislation and planning documentation have been analyzed. The second pillar has been the attitude of the authorities towards involving society in the decision-making processes. Lastly, civil society’s attitude towards participating in the decision-making process has been examined. These components have been investigated by means of three qualitative research methods: document analysis, semi-structured expert interviews and street interviews.

2.1 Document analysis

To analyze the legal possibilities to participate in spatial decision-making processes, three kinds of documents have been examined: legislation, spatial planning documentation and reports of public hearings that were conducted during the development of the Zenit Arena.

Legislation of three sorts has been analyzed. Firstly, the relevant spatial planning legislation at federal and regional level was examined. The dominant federal law for spatial developments is

Federal Law 190-FZ: The Urban Planning Code of the Russian Federation (2004). On the level of Saint

Petersburg, there have been two laws concerned with engaging the public in spatial decision-making:

Regional Law 114-20: On the procedure for the participation of citizens and their associations in the discussion and decision-making in the field of urban development in the territory of St. Petersburg (2004) and its successor Regional Law 400-61: On the order of organizing and holding public hearings and informing the public in the implementation of urban planning activities in St. Petersburg (2006).

Another relevant regional law, was Regional Law 29-10: On the Rules of Land Use and Development

of Saint Petersburg (2009). The analysis of these documents served to examine the provisions that

empower the public to participate during the spatial planning process. By doing so, the legal possibilities for civil society to engage have been examined, as well as the obligations for the authorities to include civil society actors.

The second type of legislation, addresses the role for civil society during the construction of the Zenit Arena. These included the Federal Laws on public procurement and bidding for state contracts, specifically 94-FZ : On placing orders on the delivery of goods, implementation of works and

rendering service for state and municipal needs (2005) and 44-FZ: On the contract system in the sphere of procurement of goods, works and services for providing state and municipal needs (2013).

Also, the presidential decree 596: On the long-term state economic policy; federal governmental order on Public discussion of the purchase of goods, works and services for state and municipal needs

on the sum of above 1 billion rubles (2012); and governmental decree 835: On approval of the Rules for the implementation of mandatory public discussion of the procurement of goods, works, services to ensure state and municipal needs (2016) have been analyzed. On the level of Saint Petersburg,

governmental decree 1095: On the system of procurement of goods, works, services to meet the

needs of St. Petersburg (2013) and deputy inquiries On the organization of a public discussion of large purchases for state needs in St. Petersburg (6 September 2012) and On the procedure for conducting public discussions on large purchases of goods (works, services) for state and municipal needs (22 November 2012) were examined.

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16 The third type of legislation encompasses specific legislation introduced for the FIFA World Cup:

Federal Law 108-FZ: On the preparation and holding in the Russian Federation of the FIFA 2018 FIFA World Cup, the FIFA Confederations Cup 2017 and amendments to certain legislative acts of the Russian Federation (2013). This law was examined to investigate whether the World Cup affected the

legislative framework for public participation. The legislation has been analyzed according to the scheme below.

Table 2.1: Analysis scheme legislative documents

Topic Aims Signs

General principles To examine whether the legislation acknowledges a role for civil society in spatial decision-making

Terms such as ‘stakeholders’, ‘participation, ‘right’, ‘fair’ etc.

Provisions for public

participation

To examine the relevant legislative documents contain legal obligations to involve the public in decision-making

Terms such as ‘public hearings’, ‘communication’, ‘participants’, ‘appeal’, proposal’, ‘consideration’ etc.

Exceptions To assess whether there are exceptional cases in which the provisions that stipulate public participation can be eased or ignored

Terms such as ‘expiration’, ‘suspension, ‘invalid’, ‘exemption’ etc.

Shortcomings To assess aspects that are not covered by the legislative document that could be relevant for public participation

Vagueness, ambiguity, absence of concrete procedures and/or measures , absence of certain provisions

Other peculiarities To examine whether there are other signs or

provisions in the legislation that could be relevant for public participation

Besides legislation, the relevant spatial planning documentation has been taken into examination, including the General Plan (2005), the Rules of Land Use and Development (2006 and 2009) of Saint Petersburg and the Territorial Planning Project (2007). The inclusion of public participation in these spatial planning documents was investigated using the analysis scheme in table 2.2.

Lastly, reports of public hearings that were conducted during the construction process were analyzed to examine to what extent these public hearings in practice accounted for real participation of civil society during the construction process.

The document analysis has been successful in outlining the legislative framework in which public participation in spatial decision-making is anchored. However, the method has a significant limitation. The weakness of rule of law implies that whatever is stated by law, might not match practice. By analyzing legislation and spatial planning documentation, one can get a good grasp of the legal framework and rights of civil society to be engaged, but conclusions about the practice of ‘collaborative’ processes cannot be drawn. To analyze the practical nature of decision-making processes, one needs to wield additional methods.

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Table 2.2: Analysis scheme spatial planning documents

Topic Aims Signs

Functional zoning To examine whether or not the development plan of the Zenit Arena fit within the relevant spatial planning documents

Terms such as ‘function’, ‘zone’, ‘assignment’ etc.

Signals of public participation To assess whether the spatial documents contain evidence of public participation in the decision-making process that resulted in the spatial document

Terms such as ‘public hearings’, ‘communication’, ‘participants’, ‘appeal’, proposal’, ‘consideration’ etc.

Exceptions To assess whether there are exceptional cases in which the zoning regulations can be amended

Terms such as ‘expiration’, ‘suspension, ‘invalid’, ‘exemption’ etc.

Shortcomings To assess aspects that are not covered by the spatial document

Vagueness, ambiguity, absence of concrete procedures and/or measures

Other peculiarities To examine whether there are other signs or provisions in the legislation that could be relevant for the development of the Zenit Arena

2.2 Semi-structured expert interviews

Eleven semi-structured interviews were conducted with experts on spatial planning and actors involved in spatial processes. To gain insight into spatial decision-making in Russia, a member of the expert Council for Urban Planning Activity under the State Duma Committee on Land Relations and Construction, a professor at the School of Urbanism at the Research University Higher School of Economics in Moscow, the director of a city architectural firm and a Saint Petersburg-based lawyer, specialized in spatial law, were interviewed. Furthermore, interviews were conducted with four regular participants in spatial development processes. Among them was the initiator of Krasivy Peterburg (Beautiful Petersburg). This online platform collects and disseminates information on all spatial development projects in Russia. Launched in 2012, it is currently the largest civic organization in spatial matters in the city. Another interview was held with a coordinator of Zhivoy Gorod (Living City), an NGO concerned with preservation of cultural and historic spatial objects in Saint Petersburg. Two more interviews were conducted with ‘urban activists’ from the Center of Independent Social Research (hereafter CISR), where they initiated the project City in Dialogue, aiming enhance the role of civil society in spatial developments in Saint Petersburg. Also, a then sportive director of Football Club Zenit – obviously a major stakeholder – was interviewed. Zenit’s fans, being regular visitors of the stadium, had interests in the development as well. Therefore, an interview was held with a representative of the overarching organization of Zenit’s supporters’ associations. Lastly, a journalist of the sports-magazine Championat was interviewed about the stadium’s development. Topic lists for all interviews are included in the appendix.

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18 This list covers various stakeholders in the development of the Zenit Arena. However, a very significant factor is lacking: the point of view of the local authorities. Although the administrations of Saint Petersburg, the Petrogradsky district and the Chkalovskoe munipality, as well as the Committee on Urban Development and Architecture of Saint-Petersburg were all approached for an interview, the only response was provided by email by a representative of the Chkalovskoe municipality:

“informing the population by the authorities of the municipal self-government of the municipality of Chkalovskoe is carried out in accordance with the law”. Although cooperation of the authorities

would have benefited the research, the list of interviewees is still considered sufficient, as the points of view of all other stakeholders have been covered. Moreover, the urban activists proved capable of providing insight in the attitude of the authorities towards public engagement.

2.3 Street interviews

Lastly, with the aim of getting understanding of societal responses to the Zenit Arena, fifty-two street interviews were held in the Krestovsky Park Pobedy where the stadium is located, in the residential area adjacent to this park, as well as in the stadium itself during two football matches of Zenit. Despite the relatively small n, the street interviews proved valuable in providing insight in public awareness of and interest in the possibilities of participation.

Table 2.3: Topiclist street interviews

Topic Aims Questions

Awareness To get an impression of societal awareness of the development process of the Zenit Arena,

- Are you aware of the issues regarding the development of the Zenit Arena?

- Are you aware of the controversies surrounding the Zenit Arena

Interest To get an impression of the societal interest in the development process of the Zenit Arena

- What do you think about the stadium in general?

- What do you think about the demolition of the Kirov Stadium?

- What do you think about the delay?

- What do you think about the cost overrun?

- What do you think about the corruption?

Participation To get an impression of societal

awareness of the opportunities to participate and willingness to do so

- Did you know about the organization of public hearings?

- Did you participate in them?

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3. Zenit Arena: Chronology of concern

This chapter sketches the societal debate about the Zenit Arena It assesses to what extent there were reasons for civil society to be interested in a participatory role in the decision-making. First, a brief chronology of the stadium’s development will be provided.

3.1 Timeline

The idea of a new stadium emerged in the early 2000s. It got impetus when Matvienko became governor. In December 2004, the decision was made to build a new stadium on the western part of the Krestovsky Island. (Government of Saint Petersburg, 28 December 2004). In August 2006, a $250 million valuing bid from the Japanese architectural bureau Kisho Kurokawa Architects & Associates won the tender for the stadium’s design (Tass, 2007). Initially, it was assumed that it would be financed by Gazprom, but in November 2005, the city announced it would finance the stadium itself. In return, Gazprom would become a local tax resident. In December 2006, a $225 million contract was closed with Sintez-SUI (renamed into Avant later) which was to become the general contractor (Government of Saint Petersburg, 2016; Zhegulev, 2016). In August 2007, construction started and the target date for completion was set in March 2009 (Zenit Saint Petersburg, 19 August 2007). The first setback was felt in April 2008. Due the global financial and economic crisis, cost of works and building materials skyrocketed: Avant adjusted the estimated costs to $574. However, three months later, it appeared that Avant had not taken into account extra costs related to the preparation of the land plot. The contract price further increased (to $970 million in Q1 2008 prices). Unhappy with this increase, the authorities terminated the contract with Avant (Government of Saint Petersburg, 2016; Tass, 2017). A new contractor was found in December 2008, when the authorities signed a contract with Transstroy, a company within the Basic Element Holding, owned by aluminum magnate Oleg Deripaska. The project gained federal prominence in 2009, when Russia filed a bid for the organization of the FIFA World Cup 2018. After the World Cup was awarded to Russia in December 2010, construction costs would again rapidly rise (to be discussed in more detail below), leading to an estimated price of $1.4 billion in October 2012. As a result, the government decided to get rid of non-core elements in the design. In July 2016, the contract with Transstroy was terminated following a payment dispute. In August 2016, a contract was signed with Metrostroy, which would finalize the construction. The first official match was played on 22 April 2017, just two months before the start of the FIFA Confederations Cup and more than eight years behind the initial schedule (Tass, 2017).

3.2 Concerns during planning

Matvienko repeatedly portrayed the stadium as a gift to the city. Initially the majority of society stood positive towards receiving this gift (Cheburnaya, 2014). Nevertheless, there were several issues related to the prospect of such stadium on the Krestovsky Island.

3.2.1 Necessity

At the time of planning, there were two stadiums fit for professional football in Saint Petersburg: the Kirov Stadium and the Petrovksy Stadium. Zenit exploited the Kirov Stadium from 1950 until 1992, moving to the Petrovsky in 1994. Both stadiums underwent major reconstructions for the hosting of the Goodwill Games in 1994, ten years prior to the announcement of the Zenit Arena. Some people therefore questioned the necessity of constructing a new stadium: