INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF URBAN AND REGIONAL RESEARCH DOI:10.1111/1468-2427.12214
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— PLANNING AS DRAMATURGY: Agonistic Approaches to Spatial Enactment päivi rannila and tikli loivaranta Abstract
In urban planning, inclusion is not necessarily achieved by increasing opportunities for deliberation between planners and residents, as power and exclusion reside in the process of deliberation, especially in the rigid spaces of formal planning hearings. Plan ners’ professional jargon may remain inaccessible to residents, who grasp their living environment in terms of the flow of sensory and social interactions. So the framework of instrumental rationality may exclude softer, yet meaningful, local stories. What is needed in urban planning is a sensitivity for the plurality of these stories. In this article we propose that applied drama methods could provide a novel model for deliberative planning, in order to surpass the silo thinking of instrumental rationality, and ingrained, taken-for-granted concepts and identities, by artistic and affective means of argumentation. Furthermore, it seems that residents gain access to the embodied understanding of different trajectories of meaning making by playing the roles of other residents. Drama may provide a channel of expression that helps people move beyond the antagonistic posturing between stake holders, as well as an empowering way to express the plurality of stories in neighbourhood spaces. Introduction
The political nature of planning negotiations has been discussed by both consensus-oriented communicative planning theorists (such as Healey, 2006) and ago nistic pluralists, who focus on dissonances in planning practice (Mouffe, 1999; Gunder, 2003; Hillier, 2003; Gunder and Hillier, 2007). Both theoretical approaches have debated inequalities and exclusion produced in planning negotiations and the means of communication between professional planners and residents. The language used in the negotiations, and the organization of the space where deliberation takes place, are noticed to produce certain kinds of subjectivity and argumentation. These are mostly determined in hegemonic discourses, inhibiting a grasp of the plurality of meaning making in residential areas. Furthermore, planning practice may be fraught with lockeddown antagonistic posturing, with stakeholders not letting go of their interests easily. Even if not fully antagonistic, there is at least a plurality of expectations of the planning process and its outcomes (Forester, 2007). The potential of art in planning lies in answering to the challenges that arise mostly from the limited, unquestioned concepts used in formal planning. For example, Patsy Healey (2006: 272) calls for an ‘opening out of issues … a mental unhooking from previous assumptions and practices, to try to see issues in new ways’. In a similar vein, Sandercock (2002: 8) longs for ‘new models of planning practice which expand the language of planning beyond the realm of instrumental rationality and the system world––(and which include) the ability to tell, to listen to, and above all, to make space for stories to be heard’. Furthermore, Beebeejaun and Vanderhoven (2010) call for We would like to thank the Ministry of the Environment and the Housing Finance and Development Centre of Finland (ARA) for funding the research project on which this article is based. Our thanks also go to the other members of our research group, Erika Lilja, Paulina Nordström, and the theatre directors involved in the workshops— Markku Keränen, Hanna Mäkinen and Sami Rannila. The cooperation of Säätämö and the Linna Theatre of Turku were essential to the success of this project. We are very grateful to the two anonymous IJURR referees for their comments, which helped us improve this article. © 2015 urban research publications limited
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more open spaces for representation. What art has to offer is to ‘bring about a novel vehicle for communication, such that may invite stakeholders to re-think the problems, challenges, and possibilities’ (Metzger, 2011: 216). As we shall see, drama as a vehicle for communication overcomes the limits set not only by language, but also between different identities. What is being suggested in this article (see also Sandercock, 2004; Landry, 2005; Sarkissian, 2005; Metzger, 2011) is that a space for artistic practice in the planning process might dissolve the bounda ries between stakeholders’ positions and encourage them to set aside unquestioned presuppositions regarding both the planning process and the issues at hand. This does not have to lead to a post-political setting reducing the political ‘to a para-political inclu sion of different opinions on anything imaginable in arrangements of impotent par ticipation and consensual “good” techno-managerial governance’ (Swyngedouw, 2011: 371). Rather, artistic practice has the potential to offer alternative ways of handling disagreements, if only this potential were put to good use in policy implementation. The concepts of culture, creativity and arts in urban development have been utilized as labels for so many different policies that their definition in the urban develop ment context has become nebulous. On the one hand, the rhetoric includes seeing the ‘creative’ and ‘artistic’ environment as a city’s comparative advantage, as in the Floridian approach (see, for example, Peck, 2012). On the other hand, in many instances the crea tivity rhetoric entails aspiring towards the inclusion and participation of diverse local communities into the processes of urban development (see, for example, Sandercock, 2004; Landry, 2005; Krueger and Buckingham, 2012; Peck, 2012). Creative planning draws on local distinctiveness and places emphasis on the process nature of urban development (Krueger and Buckingham, 2012). Creative city planning, for Landry (cited in Krueger and Buckingham, 2012: 488), ‘breaks down the silos constraining innova tive thinking and action’ and challenges the rational world view, to allow rethinking the issues of urban development. ‘Creativity’ may be also be included in the planning process by establishing artistic practices in the actual planning process. Here, the rationale is to bring about new means of communication and new, inclusive spaces for planning negotiations. One way of encouraging this creativity is to bring into the planning process some artistic device. Our study adds to these discussions the use of drama as a specific means of plan ning (compared to other examples of artistic practice in urban planning such as those described by Dang, 2005; Sarkissian, 2005; Metzger, 2011). Our research material con sists of drama workshops that were organized in cooperation with human geographers and theatre professionals in 2010 and 2012. The workshops took place in the neighbour hoods of Varissuo (population 8,700) and the Student Village (population 3,200) in the City of Turku (population 175,000) in south-western Finland. The aim of the workshops was to show how applied and performing drama could be used in the development of residential areas. The participants of the workshops discussed their views of the living environment, acted out improvisations and dramatized scenes of the situations, and used drama to find possibilities for transforming problematic issues. In our approach, theatre was seen (after Boal, 2004) as a facilitator of dialogue and as a way to make alternative realities visible. In the next section of the article we give an outline of the context of contempo rary planning paradigms, namely that of agonistic pluralism, which poses challenges and sets directions that could be appropriately met through artistic practice. In the following section, we briefly discuss art in planning and community drama. The fourth part of the article describes the research methods used and situates the study in its spatio-political context by describing the practice of planning processes in Finland. In the fifth and final sections we describe our research from the drama workshops and reflect on the findings in a discussion.
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Agonistic planning
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Contemporary forms of representative democracy have faced criticism for being exclusionary and unable to maintain sufficient interaction. For this reason, planning theorists have been debating different forms of democracy in urban transformation processes. The challenges and possibilities of participatory planning and urban democ racy have been approached within two broad theoretical frameworks: communicative planning and agonistic pluralism. Jürgen Habermas’s (1979) theory of communicative action has inspired communicative planning theorists and deliberative democrats (Innes and Booher, 1999; Healey, 2006). In terms of these theories, equal or rational debate is claimed to lead to the best democratic conclusions, and to consensus bet ween participants. In the ideal speech situation, everyone participates in the conversation using rational arguments. This means that the best argument wins (Flyvbjerg 2001: 90), as participants are striving for the common good instead of protecting their vested interests. One aspect is whether the notion of the common good can be reached at all without exclusion and violence. Even Habermas and other communicative planning theorists admitted the counter-factuality of the ideal speech situation (Forester, 1993; Healey, 2006). By contrast, agonistic pluralists (Mouffe, 1999; Gunder, 2003; Hillier, 2003) argue that spaces of deliberation are always potentially conflictual, and deem full consensus impossible. Moreover, as Sophie Bond (2011: 175) notes, the development of deliberative theories has led to a non-foundationalist approach that brings these theories closer to those suggested by agonistic pluralists. Agonism refers to a we–they relationship in which conflicting parties are not regarded as enemies, as in antagonism, but rather as adversaries whose legitimacy is recognized (Mouffe, 2005: 30). Mouffe argues that by rendering contradictions invis ible, the Habermasian consensual thought leads to exclusion and violence. Due to the rational calculation of interests and the diminishing of alternative voices there are no legitimate channels for the expression of political identities (ibid.: 4). This may lead to antagonism that defines others in moral terms: as enemies with whom there is no common symbolic ground. Although agonistic planning may include fights, there is a shared set of rules, and the adversaries’ opinions are regarded as legitimate (ibid: 52, 75). The aim of agonistic pluralists is thus not to eliminate conflicts, but to create practices, discourses and institutions that allow adversaries to handle such conflicts in a respect ful manner. As Mouffe (ibid.: 24) states, ‘mobilization requires politicization, but polit icization cannot exist without the production of a conflictual representation of the world, with opposed camps with which people can identify, thereby allowing for pas sions to be mobilized politically within the spectrum of the democratic process’. Planning theorists inspired by agonistic pluralism have been debating how to advance a mutually respectful relationship between adversaries and a reciprocal coex istence of differing viewpoints (Benhabib, 1996; Mouffe, 1999; Bond, 2011). Agonistic pluralism is based upon the acknowledgement of the inherently political and always potentially conflictual nature of planning practice (Mouffe, 1999). ‘Rational consensus’ thus appears as a repressive structure, a utopian ideal where conflict and power are erased (Bond, 2011: 167). For Jacques Rancière (1999: 116), consensus means ‘the pre supposition of inclusion of all parties and their problems that prohibits the political subjectification of a part of those who have no part’. Therefore, if you are beyond an invisible line, you are ‘out of the picture’. For Mouffe (1999: 756), ‘every consensus exists as a temporary result of a provi sional hegemony, as a stabilization of power and that always entails some form of exclu sion’. According to her, politics and democracy exist when there is a clear opportunity to challenge the prevailing order and seemingly consistent identities. Stakeholders’ com mitments to values need to be recognized as being a matter of identity and historical
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contingency rather than rationality (Hillier, 2003: 39); this includes the values and needs of professional planners. Mouffe argues that claims for one rationality are exclu sive and dismiss other means of argumentation, for instance, narrative or emotional argumentation or other conceptions of rationality, which, however, are important for residents’ experiences. As critiques of communicative rationality state, equal and rational argument ation, inclusive of all those considered, are unrealistic ideals, as power and exclusion are inherent in the very act of argumentation in every speech situation (Mouffe, 1999; Flyvbjerg, 2001; Gunder, 2003; Hillier, 2003; Bond, 2011). Not everybody is able to attend planning discussions or to express themselves (Healey, 2006: 274). For example, active participants may override the voices of quieter persons, or some participants may silence their reservations in order to ensure that others’ perceptions of themselves remain favourable. Furthermore, the language that is used may be exclusionary, as the scope of rationality defines what issues are discussed, and how. In formal planning situations, taken-for-granted practices and discourses condition the process of argu mentation and even the very issues that are perceived to be worthy of debate. The rep resentations of planning maps reinforce the view that the planners’ view of the area is usually a top-down or outsider view, in which space is seen as a container for dif ferent functions. The professional language of planners is exclusionary and prevents the plural voices of the locals from becoming audible (see, for example, Sarkissian, 2005: 107). Single rationality is only possible when the area is seen from outside and above, superficially, and if a single ontology is used. Different trajectories of meaning making may sometimes hamper understanding between residents and result in some things being valued over others. Moreover, stakeholders may act strategically and exaggerate the superiority of their suggestions. Rational-sounding arguments may be undermined. Planners may also perceive residents as nimbyist lay people. In turn, planners face a great deal of criticism in cases that involve land-use changes (Healey, 2006). These barriers between residents and planners are a result of the constituent power of their identities. The political nature of negotiations does not reside in defending the rights of these identities, but rather in constituting those identities in an always unstable terrain (Mouffe, 1999). Linked to this is every participant’s conscious or unconscious attempt to preserve his or her identity so that others’ perception remains favourable. Thus, dis sent may be silenced even prior to deliberation (Bond, 2011: 168). All these combined aspects make it clear that participation processes aimed at advancing local democracy are permeated by power relationships. These may reinforce stereotypes, limit agendas, alienate many interested parties, or even induce conflict, as Beebeejaun and Vander hoven (2010: 283) and Healey (2006: 272) point out. It has been noted that formal planning negotiations frequently end in lockeddown antagonistic posturing and are fraught by stereotyping (see Beebeejaun and Vanderhoven, 2010). Recognizing the existence of adversarial viewpoints or conflict ing interests does not yet lead to more just decision making. Instead, Mouffe suggests moving towards agonism, in which the relationship between conflicting parties is mutually respectful and reciprocal. Equality and freedom are seen as the two norms underpinning deliberation, and participants have equal rights to speak and to be heard, to express emotions and to defend their positions (see, for example, Benhabib, 1996; Mouffe, 2005; Bond, 2011). In terms of this approach, genuine reciprocal deliberation demands equality between participants and liberty, which in turn is enhanced by res pect in communication. Liberty, equality and respect are thus intertwined norms that might help to dissolve power games, identities or presuppositions that reside in plan ning practice, so that participants may openly express their views on issues they find important without fear of being ridiculed or judged.
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Agonistic democracy is thus positively open to contestation and struggle. Bond (2011: 170) states that a space in which ‘new meanings and identities that disrupt the existing dominant discursive field’ can be attained in ‘a moment of dislocation or crisis, which exposes the radical contingency ... of the social’. In addition, the role of public space is important here. The Habermasian notion of public sphere is the place where deliberation aimed at rational consensus takes place. For agonistics, instead, conflicting views are confronted in public space (Mouffe 2013: 92). We suggest that artistic com munication practices and their spatial interpretations may provide one way of revealing dislocation, and of opening up issues for alternative interpretations of reality. Dramatic embodiment may provide a very suitable context for attaining the norms of liberty, respect and equality. Art in planning processes ‘The theorists who want to eliminate passions from politics and argue that democratic politics should be understood only in terms of reason, moderation and consensus are showing their lack of understanding of the dynamics of the political. They do not see that democratic politics needs to have a real purchase on people’s desires and fantasies.’ Chantal Mouffe (2005: 28)
Agonistic planning practice is about opening up issues and challenging the pre vailing order. In addition, deliberative democrats such as Patsy Healey (2006: 272) argue that inclusive spatial planning is more than identifying the issues: inclusivity involves exploring what the issues mean to different people. For Healey, this kind of planning practice at its best entails that participants learn about each other’s con cerns, challenges and solutions ‘in ways which reach out across our cultural differences’ (ibid.: 272; see also Sandercock, 2004). Regarding inclusiveness, Steven R. Dang (2005: 125) notes that the arts seem to invite citizens to get involved in community planning processes. As it can transcend language, art can be the initial point of entry into commu nity planning, which might otherwise seem too intimidating because of its professional jargon. Art opens up the conversation to new topics that for some reason or another are not otherwise expressed. Wendy Sarkissian (2005: 116) describes artistic approaches to planning as ‘listening with your third ear’. The uses of art in planning have increased, although they tend to be formed differently around the world. In the USA, for instance, visual-art techniques, storytelling, exhibits, music and performance have recently been used to expand the strategies of community engagement and participation (American Planning Association, 2011). In some countries, laws and regulations guide the uses of art in planning or construction projects. Finnish government platforms, for instance, apply the ‘percent principle’, meaning that a certain percentage of the budget in public construction works should be used for art. Most often this has led to the inclusion of fine arts or a sculpture in a building, on a bridge, or in the public space of a new neighbourhood. However, art is seldom part of the actual participation process. The inclusion of artistic practices such as drama workshops in the participation process may therefore offer new opportunities for emotions, passions and alternative voices to be incorporated into the planning agenda. Drama has a long history as a communication device that allows for an open ness that can make alternative realities visible and give a voice to issues that are other wise inexpressible. The inability to express oneself may be the result of either lim ited language, or of self-suppression arising from a fear of articulating one’s desires. Participants may fear the oppressive environment, or be afraid of losing face or of
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being punished. However, in recent times, dramatic practice has flourished, making oppressed voices audible. One of the most established approaches to participatory community theatre is Boal’s ‘Theatre of the Oppressed’, which promotes social justice, empowerment, liberation and radical change. In terms of this approach, theatre is a facilitator of dialogue, and several techniques may be used to enhance negotiations. For example, legislative theatre imitates legislative process and works to deliberate the most suitable and just laws; image theatre is a way of communicating emotions and concepts that cannot be expressed through words; and forum theatre presents the problems existing within a community. Once a scene has been enacted, spectators may suggest solutions for the problems that were depicted, and even become ‘spect-actors’ who act out the solutions. The common denominator of the techniques is achieving social justice and empowering the oppressed. By means of theatre, difficult issues may be put into words, expressed in images, and discussed without fear. Theatre allows for the oppressed to become active subjects, and encourages the production of a new subjectivity without fear and oppression (see Boal, 2004). Boal (1992: 11) notes that theatre is, essentially, the ability of humans to observe themselves in action. It is seeing the ‘real’ from a distance, to critically reflect on it and to identify opportunities for change (for more on opportunities and challenges of participatory community theatre, see also Sloman, 2012). Art has been noted to bring a multi-layered local understanding to the planning process, as the stage is opened up to allow expression of the complexity and dynamics of place (Landry, 2005: 118). The empowering element of art derives from the plurality of legitimate modes of argumentation, which also allows a deep exploration of the variety of stories in a neighbourhood. Stories not only tell what happens in a neighbourhood but, more importantly, combined with drama they offer opportunities to participate through imagination, emotions and desires. Mouffe (2005: 24) regards passion as ‘one of the main moving forces of politics’, the role of which has been underestimated while emphasizing rationality in planning and politics. In the agonistic approach, the power of critical art lies in equal measure in its ability to make visible that which dominant consensus has obscured, and to give voice to those silenced within the existing hege mony. Counter-hegemonic art can be understood as agonistic interventions offering alternatives to the post-political order. Hegemonic confrontations are thus not limited to political institutions, but can also take place in other settings (Mouffe 2013: 88–92). As Mouffe (ibid.: 91) states, it is important to scrutinize the role of artistic practices in the multiplicity of discursive surfaces and public spaces since critical artistic practices always have a political dimension as they maintain, constitute or challenge the prevail ing symbolic order. Art has the ability to question automatized perceptions by making the familiar strange, and the strange familiar (Landry, 2000: 179; Sandercock, 2004: 137). Liberation from the normalized, unquestioned hegemonic frames of reference may be concep tualized via the distancing effect. This concept, rooted in Viktor Shklovsky’s thinking, and coined by German poet and playwright Bertolt Brecht, refers to the ability of art to make taken-for-granted situations and objects unfamiliar (Metzger, 2011: 219), and to de-automatize perception by noticing different possibilities of signifying reality. To get rid of the presuppositions that organize our everyday perception we need some ‘aesthetic shock’ (ibid.) to open us up to other possibilities of being and meaning making. This distancing effect offers an opportunity to scrutinize naturalized conceptions of reality and notice their nature as cultural constructions. This echoes Augusto Boal’s (2004) notion that theatre lets us ‘see the real from a distance’, which entails stepping back from the web of meanings in which we usually are enmeshed. At the same time this scrutinizing act debunks power relationships that reside in the sedimentation of meaning in master-signifiers.
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The opening up of issues in a non-rigid atmosphere, in the politically ‘cool’, deliberative space of drama workshops, allows for more inclusive and pluralistic dis cussion. Cool deliberative settings are unofficial or advisory deliberative spaces, where the stakes are less clear, in contrast to ‘hot’, sensitive settings where stakeholders have strongly formed, locked-down positions (Dryzek, 2005: 229; Metzger, 2011: 217). In addition, space arrangements in artistic planning practice are less rigid than in formal planning negotiations. Rigid spaces produce rigid self-awareness (Metzger, 2011: 220), and formal settings may reflect power relationships by producing a certain kind of disciplined subjectivity (Foucault, 1977). Still, the counter-hegemonic power of art should not be overstated. Jacques Rancière (2004: 136) argues that the artistic power of provocation tends to return to consensual thinking and ‘the ethical task of witnessing a world in common’. Art clearly has the potential to acknowledge passions, imagination, emotions and alternative voices. However, not all artistic practices are capable of serv ing as agonistic interventions that would shake up the rationalist order that is inherent to planning practices. Drama workshops as a means of urban planning —
The Finnish planning context
The Nordic welfare state in Finland depends to a large degree on its strong municipal government. Cities and municipalities are responsible for most of the basic services, including planning and decision making.1 In the context of planning, the wel fare state’s commitment to protect and promote citizens’ wellbeing is reflected in the Land Use and Construction Law, which requires municipalities to provide those who are affected by a plan with an opportunity for participation (Ministry of Legal Affairs, 1999: 62 §), and requires a plan to be set up for participation (ibid.: 63 §). Planning pro posals are displayed, and opinions of citizens may be submitted to support the deci sion making of local authorities. However, the outcomes of participatory practices vary widely as a result of strong autonomy on the part of the local authorities and because the law may be interpreted loosely (see also Bäcklund and Mäntysalo, 2010). Three recent Finnish governments have favoured civil participation. Vanhanen’s first cabinet (2003–2006) launched the Civil Participation Policy Program ‘to encour age civil participation and reinforce a functioning democracy’ (Government Programme of Prime Minister Matti Vanhanen’s Government, 2003: 58). Subsequently, Vanhanen’s second cabinet (2007–2010) highlighted that ‘citizens must be guaranteed the right to have a say, participate and be involved in decision-making’ (Government Programme of Prime Minister Matti Vanhanen’s second cabinet, 2007: 4). Katainen’s government programme (Programme of Prime Minister Jyrki Katainen’s government, 2011: 37–38) stated that ‘civic participation will be developed’ and that ‘the Government promotes the development of new forms of participation, such as consultative public panels and other instruments of participatory democracy’. These efforts were translated into plan ning thought through programmes such as the Development Program for Residential Areas 2013–2015 (2012), which enhances residents’ involvement, and aims to find new methods for participation. Similar goals were included in the Suburban Programme 2008–2011 (2008). Measures at the state level mirror the political will to enhance civil participation and to diversify methods for participation. However, the challenge lies in translating all these measures to actual planning work at the municipal level and in particular, to the attitudes of planners.
1
Here we are talking about smaller administrative areas––municipalities––which are essentially independent and in charge of planning decisions in their areas.
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The drama workshops that formed part of this study took place in the city of Turku, where urban planning has a dubious reputation. People talk about ‘the disease of Turku’ when referring to the city’s tendency to demolish old buildings and to the strong role of construction companies in creating its urban landscapes. As far as participation is concerned, Turku has been acting in accordance with the principles of the Land Use and Construction Law (Ministry of Legal Affairs, 1999), like many other Finnish cities. Previously there was a full-time participation coordinator in central administration who was in charge of the district-level partnership programme (Bäcklund and Mäntysalo, 2010: 336). This person arranged meetings in which citizens had the opportunity to raise issues that should be put on the agenda for discussion. The municipality also promoted ‘cool’ spaces for deliberation, for instance, an ‘armchair parliament’, where citizens were able to enter into discussion with board members (Aarnisalo et al., 2009: 21). Arranging such deliberative spaces goes beyond the minimum participatory demands of the law. However, challenges remain: how does one contact those who are affected by the planning proposals, and how does one guarantee that the ‘cool’ deliberative spaces encourage citizens to voice their opinions? Do spaces such as the armchair parliament subtly maintain the established order despite seemingly laid-back arrangements? The language and identities of official board members and planners as well as residents remain unchanged, in the same way perhaps as the legitimate (rational) means of argu mentation. The arrangement of space and the process itself can contribute strongly towards democratizing the planning process, but for further inclusivity, barriers such as identity and language remain. Furthermore, non-political groups and NGOs discuss local issues at district level. In both our study areas these bottom-up, informal channels of resident democracy exist. In the Student Village, tentative steps towards resident democracy are being taken via newly established resident boards. In Varissuo there is a group that aims to draw residents together around meaningful activities, and to influence the local authorities to improve the area. In these contexts, drama might help facilitate dialogue and improve community cohesion by bringing residents together by means of artistic experiences. —
Methods
The empirical material for this study was collected from two theatre workshops, called ‘Yes in my backyard!’, run by three theatre directors. One of these directors planned the workshops throughout the project and led the other two directors, who worked in Varissuo and the Student Village, respectively. The Varissuo director was an applied theatre professional who was experienced in working with many social groups and around various social issues. The Student Village workshops were directed by a young theatre director whose particular interest lay in community theatre and the development of urban areas through drama. These workshops were closely linked to the work of four researchers and research assistants.2 The researchers organized the workshops, found the participants, created contacts inside the communities, gathered research material, and also took part in the exercises and discussions of the workshops. The first set of workshops took place in the autumn of 2010 in the Varissuo neighbourhood, and the second set in the winter of 2012 in the Student Village. We were interested in the neighbourhood-related concerns of the residents, how they negotiated with each other, and how they could represent the plurality of realities through the medium of theatre. Our emphasis was on studying the communication and meaning-making processes, and not on getting a representative view of the whole area. 2
The first author of this article was the leader of the research project as a whole, and the second author worked as a research assistant in the workshops of the Student Village.
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In Varissuo, about 15 adults participated regularly, while in the Student Village there were fewer than 10 participants. (There were also children’s workshops in Varissuo, but these are not analysed here, as they were not very informative for the context of planning.) Both applied and performative drama were used in the workshops. Applied drama means utilizing theatrical methods in ways that do not include a theatrical per formance. It is an approach that has been used variously as a means to communicate social issues. In addition, performative drama was used, as both workshops concluded in a performance before an audience at a distinct performance venue. The workshops in Varissuo started out by gathering residents’ experiences and stories about the physical and social conditions of their neighbourhood. These stories were developed into short exemplary scenes in which the whole group was involved either as actors or audience members. In the next phase, the scenes were discussed and the participants tried to come up with positive solutions to the problems. These solutions were again enacted, and the credibility of solutions was discussed. Finally, the director of the workshops gathered these scenes into a dramatized performance that was presented on stage. In the Student Village, the workshops started off with improvisations. Initially, the scenes were practically non-verbal. Then followed improvisations that included lengthy dis cussions, and finally thought-through scenes. The participants jointly constructed the concluding public presentation. Both workshops also included undercover theatre that took place in authentic places of happening without other people knowing that they were in the middle of a theatre play. All workshops were videotaped, recorded and/or photographed. Participants were also interviewed before, during and/or after the workshops. In addition, research ers made notes and, in the case of the Student Village workshops, the director wrote a report after each workshop session that included information about what had been done, what the working phases and methods had been, whether the plans had changed (and if so, why), which parts of the workshops had been successful and which had not (and why), as well as how the session had served the agenda of the project. For the purposes of this article, the extensive material was scrutinized from two viewpoints: first, we concentrated on content in order to find out what kinds of concerns, emotions and experiences the participants conveyed in their stories. Secondly, and more importantly, the material was studied by means of a more discursive approach in order to grasp the power relations within the group, and to see if the virtues of agonistic pluralism (freedom, respect, the right to speak, reciprocity) could be identified from the material. The video material turned out to be extremely useful in the discursive analysis, as it included many important gestures and reactions (significant glances, smiles and silences) that may have remained unnoticed in photographs or tape recordings. Findings of the workshops —
(Pseudo-)consensual atmosphere
The issues discussed most often in the workshops were the social spaces of the neighbourhood and the coexistence of different groups of residents. Participants told stories about situations in which one group’s use of space limited the experience of, or access to public space of another group. Such groups are not homogenous or consistent; however, in the stories some operation or characteristic of the groups was emphasized, for example, rowdy youth playing ball at night, drunkards, noise makers, or people riding motorbikes on pavements. In the stories, coexistence was not always peaceful, and conflicts and solutions entailed power and exclusion. The medium of drama encouraged participants to discuss social space. While the physical environment was discussed when participants were asked about it, residents rarely initiated such
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discussions. The most important findings of the workshops were, first, that participants created a pseudo-consensual atmosphere that enabled respectful communication, but at the same time excluded talking points that could cause conflicts. Secondly, embodied storytelling freed discussion from instrumental rationality and created enhanced oppor tunities for understanding the opinions of others and to feel sympathy for them. Thirdly, drama allowed participants to imagine alternative realities that could be utilized in planning and in the participation process. The workshop discussions in Varissuo may be regarded as ‘cool’, deliberative situations, as there were no hot political issues on the agenda and professional planners were not present. At first, the atmosphere seemed consensual and inclusive, and there was no particularly intense debate over any issue. However, deeper analysis showed that full consensus and deliberation without power relationships was unattainable even in such a small group. Some persuasion was revealed in negotiating the importance of a certain issue over another. Roles started to emerge as some had louder voices or were more interested in raising issues for discussion. The unequal roles became exhausting, even for the most active participants: Doing undercover theatre was great––although it would have been nice if someone else had been––I sometimes felt that no one else wanted to do anything unless I started acting. If you are the only person who does things, you start to feel that you don’t want to do anything anymore. Someone else can do that (interview with young adult participant).
Problems of consensus are revealed when contradicting viewpoints lead to someone presenting themselves in a way that makes them acceptable to other partici pants. When participants talked about contested issues, such as immigrants, freedom of expression and mutual respect were not always attained. In a way, participants were expected to suppress their feelings, ‘conveying a view of the situation which he feels the others will be able to find at least temporarily acceptable’ (Goffman, 1969: 8). Especially critic al comments about immigration were met by blank faces, indicating a clear lack of desire to debate this issue. One of the discussions at the Varissuo workshop illustrated this well: Director: Next we could talk more about the life in the blocks. There were cats and then there were voyeurs and a photographer and–– Participant 1 (a middle-aged woman): In our block there is nothing––except in the flat below there lives a five-person family of immigrants. Two boys. Last winter I remember that the boy peeled a mandarin or an orange in front of the step and then threw the peelings onto the slope. Director: How old was he? Participant 1: About 15 years old. (Two young participants laugh aloud) Participant 2 (a middle-aged woman): Evidently these two know the guys. Participant 3 (a young girl): Where do they come from? Participant 1: From Kosovo, I guess. I have no idea because they have a totally different name on their door. I have heard that they are protected and therefore have a wrong name on the door. The peelings flew to the garden just like that. And also the Christmas tree, old, withered, was left in front of the step. (Young participants smile and glance at each other significantly) Director: But Finns also behave in totally the same way. (Silence) Researcher: So, do you have any other thoughts about littering?
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In this example, the participant in the workshop was allowed to talk about her feelings towards the immigrant neighbours, but the reactions of the young participants (laughter, glances, silence) suggested that the topic was not suitable for the group. The director and the researcher reacted to the uncomfortable atmosphere by diminishing the problem by stating that Finns also behaved similarly, and by turning the discussion from immigration to littering. That way the setting remained cool and the atmosphere consensual. However, the understating of the problem also led to a post-political situa tion in which politics disappeared and moments of interruption faded out (see Dikeç, 2005; Swyngedouw, 2011). At the same time, the most topical concerns of the residents may become diminished: More important topics than noise should have been addressed. One big question here is the encounter of different kinds of people. That could have been expressed more strongly [in the play]. These prejudices––but that topic did not interest the others at all (interview with adult participant).
It seems clear that deliberative situations also entail acting, even at the risk of these becoming a theatrical show; a fear of losing face and a desire to be accepted leads to participants presenting themselves in such a way that others’ perception of them remains favourable. This would be particularly true in politically hot settings. As Kaza (2006: 262) notes, in politically sensitive settings participants may act strategically, exaggerate their own viewpoint or refuse to submit to other participant’s viewpoints, as this might entail a loss of power. However, the atmosphere in both the workshops studied here was consensual, or at least very far from antagonistic. The participants often deliberately aimed to achieve inclusiveness by returning to comments that had been excluded earlier, for example, when two or more persons voiced their comments simultaneously in an intense debate. However, this did not apply in the case of topics that were expected to raise conflict. The participants’ avoidance of sensitive issues made it seem as though the conflicts of the neighbourhood did not exist between the workshop participants. However, participants noted that in real life, conflicts were rarely solved in such a respectful manner, and that sometimes a conciliator would be needed. —
Embodied storytelling
The workshops freed participants from the narrow frame of instrumental ration ality, usually overriding the affective, narrative and aesthetic arguments in planning. The stories from Varissuo informed the researchers about the kinds of issues residents observed and considered meaningful in their urban space. They also revealed a rich account of the plurality of stories existing in the neighbourhood space. According to one participant, instead of acting in a finished play, ‘it was nice to take part in a process based on telling stories’ (interview with adult participant). In addition to traditional storytelling, workshops in the Student Village utilized embodied, aesthetic storytelling, which participants probably do not use in their everyday lives: in this approach they moulded objects from clay on a psychogeographical map, drew their everyday routes on the map and discussed their space-related thoughts around the map. They were also asked to use their bodies as statues; for example, the facilitator might shout: ‘make a statue of the feeling of the first impression of the Student Village!’, and the participants would respond accordingly by assuming a posture and facial expression that described how they had felt. Enriched means of argumentation entails stepping outside the boundaries of identities and being freed from verbal representations that narrow the scope of perceiv ing reality. The workings of bodies are not confined by words. The body as a subject of knowledge generates meaning in the ‘interstices between experience and expression’
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(Dewsbury, 2000: 482). Meanings may become articulated after the bodily act that generates them. The body is able to be creative as it works before and ‘over’ the discur sive practices (ibid.; Collins, 2010: 924). One participant noted this, describing her working method by saying that ‘you just think where you are and what kind of feeling you have inside’ (interview with adult participant). Of course, the body is also condi tioned and disciplined by the arrangements of space and other practical frameworks, but it is free from the discursive frames of representation. Bodily performances may also reveal hidden motivations, desires and tensions that have not yet been suppressed by the person’s conscious presentation of identity. Identification in drama is not a mere cognitive figuring out what the other per son wants. It is embodied, affective immersion in the other person’s experience (how ever imaginary this might be). Drama could thus be an answer to Sandercock’s (2002: 8) plea to bring to deliberative planning practice the ability to ‘imagine oneself in another skin, another story, another opening of space’. When someone takes on the role of the adversary subject this may offer the person an opportunity to dissolve the conflict and to cross the boundaries of identities that rub against each other. Through the medium of drama it is possible to make the limits of identities porous and to approach possi bilities beyond one’s own identity (Zamir, 2010: 230). Here, identification is conceived of as stepping into a set of imaginary possibilities that differ from the subject’s usual set of possibilities, constantly defined by and defining her or his identity.3 The materiality of the embodied identification grants the actor opportunities to reach a deeper under standing of other stories. In improvisation work the body reacts to events intuitively and pre-discursively. By setting the scene for another repertoire of possibilities and circumstances, embodiment provides access to affects that are otherwise inaccessible. In the drama workshops, participants were able to move beyond the limits of their own personalities or identities, whose conservation may inflict shame and selfcensoring. Since the fear of losing pride seemed to be overcome by stepping into a role, even sensitive issues could be expressed in another person’s (impersonal) voice. Feelings of shame were reduced when a trustful atmosphere was gained in the workshops. The distancing effect in drama enables people to bring up sensitive issues and put them on the agenda, as they do not have to address these issues personally. Budget, for instance, was mentioned as a reason for choosing a living area only when participants adopted a role distinct from their normal identity. This is indicative of the actors distancing them selves from their identities by stepping into a role. In this case, the act of expression is respected regardless of the personality of the subject who is engaging in this expres sion. Issues are seen to be less personal if articulated while playing a role (cf. Innes and Booher, 1999). A focus on issues rather than on personal opinions enhances discus sion of uncomfortable or contested topics. This helps overcome antagonism in conflict situations, and seems to answer to the need to ‘provide channels of expression in which conflicts can be expressed while limiting the use of abusively confrontational antago nistic behaviour’ (Hillier, 2003: 43). Workshop participants described how they actually started to understand the feelings of the person whose role they had played. The difference between verbal description and embodied understanding becomes clear in a story concerning the ministadium in Varissuo, a playing field that was also used by local youth at night. Those who had to go to work in the morning found the sound of the ball banging against the stadium walls at night-time and reverberating among the concrete blocks irritating. This generated a conflict: neighbours and guards tried to point out the neighbourhood rules and regulations to the ball players, which did not lead to the hoped-for result. 3
Identification is a problematic concept in that it ‘suggests identical emotions between empathizers and their object’ (Zamir, 1010: 236). It would be dubious for someone to claim the ability to achieve identical emotions to someone else. In the context of drama, identification may be conceptualized via imaginatively stepping into a set of possibilities encountered by the other.
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In an improvised scene, the neighbours went down to the field in their pyjamas and took the ball from the players. When the participants discussed the issue verbally, they regarded the youth as merely rowdy and disrespectful; their verbal reflections were one-sided and detached. But when the story was enacted, the actors representing the youth felt agitated when the ball was taken away from them. In fact, after a particular rehearsal, one actor said to another: ‘don’t be angry at me in real life’––as the situation had become quite heated while the actors were arguing over the ball. Drama allowed the actors to feel and discuss the emotional aspects of the situation, and the motivations of the stakeholders. While this approach does not guarantee that antagonism will be erased, it allows for a deeper understanding of the conflict. This outcome was also noticed when actor-participants changed roles in the middle of an improvisation. For instance, one of the participants described her annoy ance with maintenance workers who regularly started blowing leaves early in the morning. In the improvisation, which included the roles of ‘the annoyed resident’, ‘the maintenance worker’ and ‘the boss’, no solution could be found to the problem. A debate about how to finance more silent machinery reached deadlock and no solutions were found. A change in roles initiated negotiations around a new set of possibilities, and as a result the participants did come up with a solution because the second actor’s imaginative possibilities differed from those of the first actor. A role develops in differ ent directions that are intuitively chosen by each actor subject, and towards a synthesis of these directions. —
Reality and being otherwise
Although drama offers opportunities for thinking through alternative realities, these were not always favoured in the workshops. The interactions that took place during the creation of the mini-stadium scene are a case in point. In this instance, participants had a hard time inventing an alternative conclusion for the conflict: Director: So you think that there should not be any negotiation [between the stakeholders] because in real life there was no negotiation? Researcher: But could we seek an alternative solution? Participant 1 (a middle-aged woman): For residents, the reality in any case is that we are never involved in negotiations. Things just happen. This is how it is from the viewpoint of a resident. Whether you are young or old, the stadium comes without asking us, and leaves without asking us. Director: What if we projected a text on stage that says: ‘Things could have been different’? And then there would be a negotiation. Participant 2 (a young girl): But, after all, the stadium left. Director: But we should now get somewhere from that so that we do not merely argue. Participant 1: I think that [the negotiations] would be exercising power. Would it go to extremes?
The alternative solution was resisted, as some of the participants wanted to express clearly how few possibilities they had in reality to affect the development of their neighbourhood. Alternative realities were rejected so that politicians or planners would not get the false impression that residents were actually able to take part in any negotiations concerning the area. Instead, residents wanted to emphasize the lack of opportunity to participate in decision making. When participants improvised roles and tried to make scenes credible, they intu itively had to solve how a particular character would act in different situations. Some times the scenes were improvised again after discussing what a more appropriate solution could be. For example, the mini-stadium case was re-improvised to let the
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complainers start playing with the youth––although this solution would be highly unlikely in real life. In another case, the conflict was taken to an outside mediator–– something that happened in reality. When an audience is included and a play is con structed, the play becomes a considered message that is expected to affect the audience in some way. Even if the performance aims to depict real solutions, the play allows the diverse expression of passions and emotions that would be neglected in the normal planning process. The fact that the workshops led to a theatrical performance resulted in the exclusion of some of the stories that were workshopped in order to make the show more interesting, pleasant or flattering. In the Varissuo workshops it was clear from the outset that the workshopped scenes would be used in a theatre performance to be pre sented in one of Turku’s leading theatres. The focus on constructing a show had a sub stantial effect on the selection of issues that were improvised and developed further. Some relevant issues did not quite make up a narrative and were quickly dismissed. For example, one participant characterized Varissuo as a rough and littered neighbourhood where graffiti fills the walls and benches. Another participant argued that graffiti is a positive sign telling that the spaces are being used. However, the issue did not pro vide enough narrative tension to form a scene, so discussion on this issue dried up. Some topics were also left out of the performance because some of the participants were unwilling to present a negative image of their neighbourhood; for example, a weekly breadline for the poor and a recent gun shooting were left out, as participants wanted to give the audience a good impression of the neighbourhood. One of the young adults said: Some parts [of the play] were a bit too official. I wonder if it was done that way so that nobody would get hurt. Or that some official person would not get upset. The play should have been more honest; represent things in the ways we see them and how they really are, rather than to do politics with the play (interview with young adult participant).
In the Student Village workshops there was less deliberate exclusion of unpleas ant stories. One reason for this may be that participants were students living in the neighbourhood only temporarily and that they were therefore not too concerned about its image or any effects on the development of property values, for instance. The dramatized theatrical representation may also become a simplified descrip tion of reality. Lengthy conversations from the workshops were often reduced to a few short lines in the theatre play. However, these stripped-down lines provided space for body language. Thus, information that cannot be expressed verbally was placed under the spotlight more intensively. A narrowing of a subject’s space possibilities was illustrated in a Varissuo scene in which a few drunkards approach a young girl in a semi-circle, mumbling, ‘Hey girl, got fire?’. The scene conveyed its message effectively: the scariest thing about it was not what intoxicated people say, but how they acted in space. According to one of the participants, ‘it’s the worst when they are coming straight at your face!’ When the drunkards overstep the limits of the girl’s comfort zone, she screams and runs off the stage. Discussion
The drama workshops created a post-political, pseudo-consensual atmosphere that avoided conflict and politically sensitive issues. The social situation remained comfortable, but some of the participants felt that real problems were diminished. Although the workshops were thoroughly planned beforehand, there were always surprises, which may be attributed to the ambivalent character of human sociability (cf. Mouffe 2005: 3). At first we thought we were creating a space for confronting
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conflicts and were surprised by the participants’ consensual ways of expressing pro blems. However, the overtly self-conscious atmosphere that prevailed while discussing the habits of youth or immigrants implied that the situation was perhaps more pseudoconsensual than consensual. The atmosphere became more relaxed when participants were improvising the scenes, and they expressed their true feelings more freely than during discussions. That the group avoided discussing difficult matters was a surprise for us––it was as if the group had assimilated a consensual way of doing politics and had created taboos in order to maintain this. There was a reluctance to discuss conflicts related to immigration or spatial segregation, although these issues are present in Varissuo.4 It seems as though participants feared that antagonism would develop if they brought up any sensitive matters. During improvisations they felt free to express all kinds of feeling, as the words or actions they expressed were then expressed ‘by a character’ and not by themselves. The participants also explained that changing roles increased their understanding of the opinions of the adversaries in the issue, which implies that the theatrical method has the potential to translate conflict towards an agonistic, respectful way of thinking through differences. Undoubtedly, drama workshops can offer means for the agonistic processing of contradictions if the parties are willing to bring their concerns to the group. It is also important to acknowledge the social and cultural contexts of the neighbourhood. Varissuo, for instance, is known for its high proportion of immigrants and has been labelled a troubled neighbourhood. However, we noticed a communal attitude among residents, which emerged clearly: the audience bubbled over with enthusiasm during the theatre performance. Communal attitude was also displayed in the workshops, with the immigrant backgrounds of participants seemingly taken for granted. There was a common understanding of which issues were to be avoided and of the proper ways of expressing concern. Whatever the participation method, it is not easy to overcome dominant plan ning ideologies emphasizing rationality, consensus and bureaucracy. Among planners–– although there are exceptions––there is a clear reluctance to create new kinds of part icipatory practices. In particular the possibilities that art offers have been undervalued in Finnish participation practices, although it offers one way of understanding citizens’ emotions and passions. One of the benefits of art is that storytelling and embodied expression allows people to tell things that are normally left untold. In the workshops, participants easily withdrew from discussions within the framework of the dominant rationalistic planning ideologies and started to speak about their lives, problems and emotions. Participation is usually about rational argumentation, which is lacking in those aspects that could make one feel sympathetic towards others. Improvisations and discussions in the drama workshops enhanced participants’ understanding of the adver saries’ viewpoints, not through rational thinking but through emotions, comprehension and respect. Theatrical performance carries its own characteristic power relationships and frames of reference. However, these differ from those in formal planning negotiations. The boundaries of identities and traditional, top-down representations of the living environments are opened up and dissolved, but new boundaries are set by the context of theatrical performance. If the emphasis is too much on the construction of the performance, an interest in showing positive stories may lessen the creative potential of drama. The Varissuo workshops adopted a rather traditional way of doing theatre 4
Dealing with issues consensually may have increased in Finland after the electoral victory of the Finns Party in the National Parliamentary election in 2011. After the victory, some marginal representatives of the party were very outspoken in their criticism towards immigrants. As a result, the party gained many supporters, but at the same time their views have been widely condemned. This may have led to an increased reluctance to discuss conflicts related to immigration.
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that was aimed at performance. By contrast, the workshops of the Student Village used more alternative methods that focused less on the creation of a play, and rather worked through several exercises. In Varissuo, the director’s role was quite authoritarian, whereas the working methods in the Student Village provided the director with a more creative role. Furthermore, the site of presentation creates its own frames of reference, which may or may not be rigid. Theatrical performance is conditioned by spotlights, the gap between the stage and the audience––all the physical arrangements that make it a very disciplined space. However, if presented in an authentic environment––as in the Student Village––the neighbourhood with all its special characteristics becomes a real set. An excess of meanings flows from the material and social aspects of the space itself. The performance can become a theatrical heterotopia: open and full of potency, potentiality, danger, experiment and play (Irwin, 2007: 70). Metzger (2011) describes an artful planning process that had entailed myriad openings of possibilities; however, the openings were not later reflected by planners. Perhaps the suggestions had been considered too airy-fairy to be put into place, or too fluid to contribute to the actual decision-making process. Thus, the opening up of possibilities in the artistic processes did not end in closure (Bond, 2011: 171). In the theatre workshops of Varissuo and the Student Village, some closure could be attained via reflection and repetition. Issues were carefully thought through when performed many times, each time bringing in something new, but simultaneously concretizing and crystallizing the message being conveyed. Between takes, the scenes’ credibility and applicability could be discussed and the scene modified accordingly. Even though total closure was never an aim amidst the multiple voices, the carefully thought-through scenes presented an orderly view of possible solutions. It seems that the greatest challenge in adopting new ideologies is not related to the residents of an area, but rather to the hegemonic planning thought reproduced by planners. In the course of the workshops, many urban planners turned out to be inter ested in theatre workshops. However, the Turku planners were reluctant to take part and had reservations about the project, as it did not fit in with their idea of participa tion. The potential of art to empower those who do not have the capacity to argue in the language of planners was not valued. The planners seemed to doubt the value of hearing the views of residents outside the official planning scheme, although there was no expectation that these thoughts would be feasible or credible in the eyes of the planners. Instead, what was significant was the way in which arguments challenged the status quo, expressed the opinion that things could be different, and emphasized the special features essential to the experience (cf. Zamir, 2005: 6). Although at the state level the political will exists to enhance new methods of participation, planners appear to be interested in these methods only ‘in theory’. This implies that the rhetoric and programmes of the state do not converge with the practices of cities in the best possible way. Conclusions
Urban planning resembles theatrical performance in its aim to create and pres ent alternative realities (cf. Dolan, 2005: 6). Planning, however, offers alternatives in a way filled with power residing in the sediments of discursive practices and rigid rep resentations of the self and the world. With art, these conceptions may be dismantled by opening up situations to negotiate possibilities. The utopias of theatre are not similar to totalizing generalizations based on instrumental rationality and efficiency. Rather, they are processual, performative, ambivalent and excessive representations (cf. Gunder, 2003). According to theorists of agonistic pluralism (Mouffe, 1999; Hillier, 2003), real ity as we grasp it is a result of historically specific discursive practices and power mechanisms (Hillier, 2003: 45). Different symbolizations of the real––representations,
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identities and concepts––are in constant hegemonic play (ibid.: 46). Their definition is the very stuff of politics, and their questioning is a project of critical, agonistic planning. Moreover, inclusive planning practice involves the opening up of conventional concep tions in which power relations reside, making space for the plurality of stories to be heard. Openness to different symbolizations and stories is something that has been called for by both agonistic pluralists and deliberative democrats, and certainly by scholars studying artistic planning practices. The open process of drama allows participants to overcome the limitations of instrumental rationality and argumentation as well as the limits of seemingly consist ent identities. At best, antagonistic situations may be safely discussed freely and with respect, as they are not deemed to be personal. So on the one hand, different realities can be explored from a distance, but on the other hand, drama enables participants to immerse themselves deeply into another reality. By means of drama, an open space is created in which to express the plurality of stories of neighbourhoods. Drama may even serve as the ‘successful therapeutically oriented approach to managing our coex istence in the shared spaces of neighbourhoods, cities, and regions’ (Sandercock, 2004: 139).5 Moreover, it can become ‘a bridge between ingrained habits and new futures’ (Sandercock, 2002: 8). Owing to augmented liberty and different ways of expression, drama allows for innovative and unbounded suggestions for the improvement of one’s environment. As a way of describing worlds, drama adds a new layer of meaning, since it moves between fact and fiction, realism and utopia, weaving into its fabric the parts of both sides. It does not face the same restrictions and expectations as representa tions intended and conceived to be factual. Sometimes dramatization may bring to the fore something so authentic or excessively real that words are not enough to portray it. In formal planning settings there is pretence––instrumental game-playing, where acting is superficially applied as a tool to achieve an end, thus furthering a strategic interest (Kaza, 2006: 262; Zamir, 2010: 242–43). Role playing, instead, can be emphatic embodiment, providing the actor with an opportunity to deeply understand the other and identify with him or her. There is a chance of seeing other possibilities of being––a desire to become familiar with underlying motivations and affects. Here, drama may even be a more authentic communication device than strategic acting in real-life situa tions. Unpleasant issues may be given a voice, and the audience understands that reality is presented in a way that is not strictly bound by the requirements of accuracy. The virtues of agonistic pluralism––freedom, respect, symmetrical rights to speak, reciprocity––are interestingly manifested in drama, where everyday identity is let go to allow embodiment of other imagined identities. Liberating tendencies arise when letting go of some of the restrictions of language and identity. This freedom may manifest itself in participants feeling less self-conscious of their opinions and thus more open in conversations. There is respect in the expression of dissonant view points when everybody is playing a role that differs from their everyday identity. Like wise, drama can bring more understanding and depth to negotiations between resident groups. Dramatized conflicts may reinforce stereotypes, but stereotypic views may dissolve in a successful improvisation as the actors feel embodied affects. The ability to live extended possibilities provides a way of increasing understanding of others. How ever, a ‘problematic’ aspect of the results of this study is that participants did not express any serious antagonism towards each other, which makes it hard to decide whether drama workshops could mediate real-life antagonistic situations. Traditional participation is dominated by those who know the language of planning and can argue rationally, whereas methods involving art may favour those who speak up and are not ashamed to express their emotions. Various methods of 5
The rhetoric of an urban ‘therapeutic’ has also been applied by M. Gunder and J. Hillier (2007), who elaborate the difference between their own and Sandercock’s approach in a 2007 article titled ‘Planning as Urban Therapeutic’.
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participation are needed so that different kinds of people can participate in a worth while way if they should wish to do so. The point is not that everyone should take part, but rather that those who want to should be able to express their thoughts in a way they can. However, participation is by no means an unproblematic issue, as it may endanger the democratic planning process by transferring responsibility away from the persons who have been elected to a position of trust. Although excluded from this article, this is an important aspect that should be thought through whenever there is a demand for increased participation. Another important point to consider is that the body is the place where space is experienced, and where space opens in each resident’s story. It is thus a quite genuine medium for articulating local knowledge of the living environment, and may sometimes be far more expressive than representations that professional planners use. When the lived space of the neighbourhood is conceived of as a constellation of relationships between the sensing subject and its material-social context, it becomes evident that bodily expression leads to richer and more subtle storytelling. If professional planners had arrived at the theatrical performance of the residents of Varissuo and the Student Village, the usual planner–resident power relation would have been turned upside down, as residents would have been telling the planners about their neighbourhood in their own language. Thus, the drama process should not be regarded as a vehicle to produce outcomes similar to those of the planning process in general. The possibilities of art do not reside in giving direct answers to planners in a language that the planners are familiar with using. Rather, the potential of art can be fully exploited only when planners begin to realize that art provides opportunities to tell other stories, to imagine things differently, to understand conflicts more deeply or to express how things could be different. The expertise of planners lies in their ability to hear these alternative voices and to translate them into the language of planning. After this translation, the views of the residents can be considered as fully fledged options to be considered in the planning process. Päivi Rannila, Department of Geography and Geology, FIN-20014, University of Turku, Finland,
[email protected] Tikli Loivaranta, Department of Geography and Geology, FIN-20014, University of Turku, Finland,
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