Articles de revues sur le sujet « University of Technology, Sydney. Faculty of Design, Architecture, and Building »

Flexible working is a concept that allows workers to have freedom to choose when and where theywork. Advanced information and communication technology make it possible for the organisation to developthis new concept. At present, there are many organisations that introduce flexible workplace. Also in the universitywhere majority of occupiers are knowledge workers, innovative workplace design offers possible advantages.Recently, the innovative workplace design concept has been introduced to a temporary building of the Facultyof Architecture, Delft University of Technology, which its faculty building burnt down on 13 May 2008. Althoughthere are perceived benefits from flexible workplace, there also have some arguments on the actual performance.There are several performance measurement tools that have been used in order to evaluate corporate realestate performance. This paper aims to explore and analyse the effect of workplace innovation on a temporaryfaculty building and to offer ideas and reflections for performance measurement tools that truly respond buildingusers and reflect on objectives of the organisation.

Architecture has been recognized for its supporting role in the enhancement of the physical assets of destinations, which play a leading role in drawing tourists who identify and associate destinations with these architectural landmarks. While generating tourist expenditure is not the aim of most architects, many are increasingly aware that articulated and functional buildings become visitor attractions in their own right – an externality that requires valuing. However, the value assigned to iconic architecture is often restricted to the bricks and mortar construction, and the broader contributions a building can deliver to its stakeholders are largely ignored. This article explores the capacity for architecture to attract tourists and effect direct tourism spend through the examination of five cases, each of which has attempted to estimate their economic value to tourism. This article proposes a model for estimating the future value of iconic buildings and tests its application to the University of Technology Sydney, Gehry-designed, Dr Chau Chak Wing building. The implications of the framework and future research are discussed.

Lampung University does routine activities every new academic year for students, especially for new students college in the Faculty of Engineering, Introduction to Campus Life for New Students (PKKMB), one of the main agendas of PKKMB is introducing every building and public facilities in Civil Engineering, also every building and the room in it. The current state of the COVID-19 pandemic makes the University of Lampung conduct learning activities by network (online).The area and number of buildings' public facilities will be an issue for new students and visitors since it takes longer to find information, explore, and understand the layout of the building environment. To address these issues, there is a need for technology that fulfills the requirements of information, efficiency, and new methods in introducing a building to visitors. These problems are expected to be resolved by developing a virtual 3D map application for Building A, the Dean of the Faculty of Engineering, and Building B the architectural engineering. The Multimedia Development Life Cycle (MDLC) method was used to develop this application. The application testing in this research uses two types of testing namely Alpha and Beta testing with a black box scheme. Alpha testing results show that the app is compatible with Android OS 8.1 to 11.1 and smartphones with 5.45 to 6.4-inch displays. It requires at least 4GB to 8GB RAM According to the Beta Testing the application resulted in an outstanding 90.2% satisfaction rate. It can be concluded that the virtual 3D map application for Dean's Office Building A and Architecture Engineering Building B of the Faculty of Engineering at Lampung University functions effectively and is rated as "Very Good" based on the established criteria and index.

The purpose of this study was to examine faculty and student satisfaction with classrooms in a university teaching facility in the Midwest, U.S.A. The two-story, 95,000 square foot (79,429.5 square meter) building cost 13.5 million dollars to build and was dedicated for use by the entire campus with no college or department given permanent classroom space. The facility's classrooms were designed to incorporate state-of-the-art communications technology including television monitors, DVD and video cassette recorders, overhead projectors and slide projectors, video presenters, and hook-ups for computers and CD, tape and other audio equipment. A post-occupancy evaluation (POE) survey of 125 faculty and 5,048 students using the facility indicated that the majority of faculty and students were satisfied with the classrooms (overall satisfaction: faculty, 65.3%F students 73.0%). However, problems were cited including: difficulty in using equipment, uncomfortable room temperatures and seating, and a sterile environment (all but three classrooms are windowless).

Electrical systems that serve the Dean of electricity load, the electricity load of the Departement of Architecture, Departement of Mechanical Engineering, Departement of Electrical Engineering, Departement of Information Technology, external lighting facilities supplied by transformers with a capacity of 200 KVA. Lately the quality electrical system has begun to decline with frequent interruptions such as the breakdown of electricity to the load, unbalanced load, THD current exceeds the standard, the fuse on the incoming to the parent panel and the fuse on the main panel is often burned, the grounding system resistance value exceeds the standard equipment value, cable temperature exceeds the standard, even voltage rises to 500 volts. The purpose of this study is to determine the causes of disruption of electricity, and produce a new master installation design to improve the system. Based on the results of the analysis, it was found that the importance of channel separation between loads to the Dean building with the Departement of Architecture building with cable capacity for the Dean building of NYY 4 x 95 mm2 and the safety of the NFb 200 Ampere mains. For cables to the building load, the Departement of Architecture installed a new main cable with NYY 4 x 50 mm2 cable size and NFb 150A main safety. It is necessary to replace the main NFb safety at the MDP parent panel which supplies the load to the Departement of Mechanical Engineering building from 160 Ampere to 200 Ampere. The entire phase in each panel does not meet the IEEE 519 - 2014 standard, so it is very important to install a filter. Ground resistance values ??on all panels vary above the standard with a value of 12 to 62 ohms. So it needs to be made a new grounding. When using a plate grounding system, the number of plates that need to be planted is 25 sheets with a size of 2m x 1 m with a planting depth of 2 m. Whereas when using a grid type earth system, a grid with a size of 3 meters x 3 meters is needed with a total grid length of 2976 meters and a depth of 3 meters.

AbstractThe development in (Dutch) building practice necessitates developments in other aspects, besides specialized and professional skills, a new integral approach in education and the introduction of such an approach into building design practice. In 2005, the Faculty of Architecture, Building, and Planning of the University of Technology Eindhoven commenced a multidisciplinary master project on integral design focused on a sustainable climatic design. Students of architecture, building technology, structural engineering, and building services participated in these multidisciplinary master projects. The students began with a 2-day learning-by-practice workshop that was implemented and tested in collaboration with experienced professionals from the Royal Institute of Dutch Architects and the Dutch Association of Consulting Engineers. These workshops have become part of the permanent educational and professional program of the Royal Institute of Dutch Architects. This is one of the few projects in which the practical experience is transferred into the educational academic program and vice versa; normally this process functions only in one of the two directions. The theoretical basis of the design method on which the education of students and professionals is based is discussed and results presented.

Abstract The Concrete Canoe Competition has been organized second time in Hungary in 2013. The main point of the competition is to design and create a floating concrete object with specified dimensions, which does not contain statically rigid frame. A speed-trial is also part of the contest. The team of Szent István University, Ybl Miklós Faculty of Architecture and Civil Engineering attended both the first (2012) and the second (2013) competition. In both years the main part of designing and creation of the canoe was under the direction of employees of Building Materials division of the Insitute. Building a concrete canoe proved to be a complex challenge. Knowledge of different engineering fields was required to solve the task - questions about material properties, hydrodynamics, statics, technologies were needed to be solved. Present paper introduces the authors’ experience, investigations, and means of realization of the concrete canoe.

The purpose of the presented research is to identify problems with the orientation and accessibility of the fragment of the "Warta" Campus at Poznan University of Technology and the building of the Faculty of Architecture and the Faculty of Management Engineering (WAWIZ). The new, almost zero-energy building designed by Prof. Sławomir Rosolski meets ecological and pro-environmental requirements to the highest degree and combines them with the perfection of the building's architectural form. The scope of the ergonomic research conducted concerns access to the Warta Campus from the nearest public transportation stop, the route to the WAWIZ building running through the campus, and the first floor of the building. The scope of the research and accompanying workshops also had an awareness-raising (socio-educational) character, ending with a discussion, and were preceded by design classes, where methods were discussed. The results of the accessibility study allowed the identification of the four most significant measures to eliminate existing limitations. The research focused on architectural accessibility only.

Nowadays, architecture education concentrates mostly on form, space, and general subjects as well as considerations of function, and art theories about design. Least attentions are on technical matters, construction courses, which cannot stand separate from the design process. This lack of synchronization between architectural design and construction courses have resulted in the idea that only design product is paramount in architectural education. However, the nature of construction courses is mostly technical and mechanical, which make it challenging for students to understand and truncate their passion for furtherance on the subject. This paper aims to examine the problems related to the learning and understanding of construction technology and its connection with the architectural design. And also to identify the primary learning necessities essential for achieving a better learning performance in construction courses, by analyzing the curriculum of construction courses of Faculty of Architecture, EMU (Eastern Mediterranean University) as case studies, and related information in the current literature written between (1993-2015) whose discourses focus on: Teaching construction technology, Bridging the gap between Theory and Practice, Education and practice of building and Evaluating Constructive Thought of Master Builder.

Emerging from concerns about the increasing work stress (occupational disease) that has an impact on mental health, nature needs to play a bigger role in the built environment, referred to as "biophilic design." The word 'design' in question is a creative process to create or design architectural works. Biophilia is contained in the third point in the Tri Hita Karana concept which is the basis of the vision and mission of Ngurah Rai University, this concept is used as a basic concept in the development of the Ngurah Rai University Faculty of Saint and Technology building, so it is very interesting to be an object of research. The purpose of this study was to determine the relationship between Tri Hita Karana and biophilia, the application of biophilic design in the development of this building, and to find new contributions in the application of biophilic design. The method used is a qualitative method, by establishing a relationship between empirical phenomena and theory in solving research problems. The results showed three biophilic categories: nature in the space; natural analogues; and the nature of the space, which is described into fourteen biophilic design patterns, has generally been successfully applied. The presence of nature can be felt as a string of images that move from entry to workspaces. The application of biomorphic shapes and patterns with natural materials and a touch of traditional Balinese architecture is a new contribution in the application of biophilic design in this FST building.

The topic of this article is cardboard as a construction material for temporary architecture: a case study of the Zbigniew Herbert Exhibition Pavilion. The Pavilion was designed and built by a group of 18 students at the course ProtoLAB at the Faculty of Architecture at Wroclaw University of Science and Technology in July 2018. The project focused on constructing Pavilion components out of paper tubes and corrugated cardboard, which have been proven to be a promising building material. Wood-based materials also were used to strengthen the construction. The design of the Pavilion aimed to use the geometry of the components to minimize the amount of metal used to connect elements. The article focuses on the problems of paper’s strength, stability, connections, impregnation, and the way they have been solved during the building process. It also discusses the topic of the possibility of using the unimpregnated cardboard in outdoor constructions. The structure was then evaluated after 5 months of being used and exposed to diverse weather conditions. Damages in the Pavilion elements are mentioned in the paper and the probable reasons why they have appeared are explained. Conclusions from this article may be useful when designing similar objects in the future.

Temporary pavilions play an important role as experimental fields for architects, designers, and engineers, in addition to providing exhibition spaces. Novel structural and formal solutions applied in pavilions also can give them an unusual appearance that attracts the eyesight of spectators. In this article, the authors explore the possibility of combining structural novelty, visual attractiveness, and low cost in the design and construction of a temporary pavilion. For that purpose, an innovative structural system and design approach was applied, i.e., a membrane structure was designed in Rhino and Grasshopper environments with the use of the Kiwi!3D IsoGeometric analysis tool. The designed pavilion, named Obverse/Reverse, was built in Opole, Poland, for the occasion of World Architecture Day in July 2019. The design and the construction were performed by the authors in cooperation with students belonging to the Humanization of Urban Environment organization from the Faculty of Architecture Wroclaw University of Science and Technology. The resultant pavilion proved the potential of obtaining a low-budget but visually attractive architectural solution with the adaption of parametrical design tools and some scientific background with innovative structural systems.

The contemporary housing environment in Europe is changing dynamically, influenced by factors related to the struggle against climate change and adverse demographic phenomena. The pace of change has also increased in response to the challenges posed by the pandemic, conflicts and the energy crisis. These reasons have started a process of change in the approach to the design of residential areas, directing the attention of designers towards meeting the needs linked to creating housing architecture that implements the postulates of connection to nature, inclusivity in response to cultural diversity, and sustainable design by extending the residential space to include rooms or facilities with a different use. The aim of the research presented in this paper was to diagnose the factors that influence the creation of an interior space that is conducive to intergenerational and intercultural integration. The study was carried out under the FRSE, Iceland, Liechtenstein, Norway grants programme (EOG/21/K4/W/0048W/0175). By assessing the elements of an interior’s composition, the factors that exclude as well as activate its space were examined, as were the spatial conditions that affect building its place-based identity and which influence its activation. The study’s conclusions are illustrated using projects prepared by second-year, first-cycle students at the Faculty of Architecture of the Cracow University of Technology, enrolled in Architecture and Architecture in English programmes.

Abstract The paper presents original research, encompassing the results of analyses of modular building façade solutions, as well as innovative design concepts based on these results by students of the Faculty of Architecture at the Poznań University of Technology. Adapting architecture to climate change is the main objective behind research and innovative designs. Reduction of carbon dioxide emissions, thermal comfort of buildings, better thermal environment ergonomics for users of buildings’ interiors, increased energy efficiency together with the use of renewable energy sources are major challenges for today’s designers. Dealing with rainwater, wind and pressure changes are already absolute necessities. Contemporary trends in modern construction in urban areas were identified on the basis of results of analyses of selected existing buildings, presented using tables, graphs and statistical tools. Conclusions from the demonstrated correlations of quantitative data with social, economic and environmental factors became the basis for the students’ conceptual assumptions. The selected innovative façade designs presented in the article demonstrate a variety of solutions for modern modular systems which protect buildings from excessive sun exposure, help insulation resist external factors, generate energy, ventilate buildings, use pressure differences, collect water, purify air, protect fauna, etc. As a result, the developed concepts may be indicative of a contemporary approach to sustainable building design, based not only on reducing any negative environmental impact and conserving natural resources, but also on designing aesthetic buildings based on classic notions of beauty.

Automotive electronics and related software market is growing significantly and expected to gain high demand of skilled employees in the next decade. The market drivers being the customer preferences, government regulations, technology adoption and recent participants like autonomous and electric vehicle technologies. Hence, industries are showing lot of interest in collaborations with academia for technology innovations and for getting industry ready employees. This paper presents the experiences and outcomes of collaborations with automotive industries in automotive embedded systems courses like, Automotive electronics, AUTOSAR, Multicore core architecture and programming, and Human-Machine-Interface offered to the students of Electronics and Communication Engineering program at KLE Technological University. These courses involve core technical concepts, computing, and design of hardware/ software architecture. The traditional mode of teaching is found to be less effective and hence, innovative pedagogical techniques are used with the help of industries for teaching these courses. The techniques helped to enhance students’ ability to solve complex engineering problems and to build higher cognitive learning ability. The collaborative contributions from both industry experts and academic faculty in design and delivery of automotive embedded courses have resulted in building industry specific skills among students which in turn resulted into a greater number of in campus placements and reduction in on job training. Keywords— Automotive Embedded Systems, Industry collaboration, Complex engineering problems, Higher cognitive learning, Industry Ready

The introduction of parametric tools has made a strong shift within a traditional approach to urban planning and building design, including the creation of a design awareness zone where environmental issues are concerned. This approach also uses sufficient data to be used already at the concept stage and provides initial interdisciplinary solutions. Analyses from the very initial stages allow the inclusion of smart energy choices influencing the massing, architectural features, proportions, flexibility of design, and economics. This is only a threshold; there is still a place for further development and more accurate analyses leading to the construction of buildings and urban areas with a stronger input of sustainable solutions, as existing approaches have certain limitations. This path has been followed in several research grants conducted at the Faculty of Architecture Warsaw University of Technology, and later on developed as a co-operation area with various stakeholders. Outside the general state of art, this paper will include two case studies which were provided as a concept design for prospective investors. Both locations are in the Warsaw Downtown Area, and analyses include algorithmic models dealing with the optimisation of the buildings’ forms, urban scale sun radiation levels, shadow and wind analyses indicating use of sunlight energy and wind as alternative energy sources. One of the case studies contains Pareto Front including both single- and multi-criteria optimization methods for analysing energy and economic efficiency issues, pointing out the best case solutions.

This article presents results of the research conducted with the use of participatory methods by the Faculty of Architecture, Poznan University of Technology on architectural design of healthcare facilities. The studies concerned the needs of patients and hospital staff in an orthopaedic and rehabilitation hospital. Preferences and expectations of all the users of healthcare facilities should be considered as early as at the stage of planning and designing. The hospital profile and the type of its users predetermine the architectural design in the area of the building functions, its internal circulation and interior design. Participation of the user in the process of compiling design recommendations is a chance for a designer to confront the original assumptions with expectations and to adjust relevant solutions to factual needs of the users. This study, undertaken in a regional setting, provided an in-depth exploration of staff’s experiences of hospital space to indicate possible spatial improvements. Methods: The research was conducted on the basis of a case study of a renowned regional orthopaedic and rehabilitation hospital in Poznan, Poland. Rapid assessment methods and questions were examined to describe current approaches and synthesize results. Semi-structured interviews and thematic analysis identified staff and patient’s experiences. Result: Participation of hospital staff and patients resulted in design recommendations of high utility value. It was found that the two groups to a certain extent proposed similar recommendations; however, certain proposals submitted by the two groups were totally opposite. Conclusion: the research highlighted the importance of the active research methodology that engages the researcher/expert in the action and critical reflection process. Such a methodology can successfully underlie the formulation of accurate recommendations.

Architecture students and professionals had the opportunity to produce experimental spaces with the power of computer technologies, apart from traditional methods in space production. Technologies such as parametric design, Building Information Modelling (BIM), visual coding, and virtual reality hold new horizons for space production and the architecture itself. Despite all their potentials, they are still mainly used to support the design process or to present a project. The use of these tools is limited only to the effort to produce different and "impressive" forms based on aesthetic concerns. The study aims to examine the different possibilities of space production through digital space experiments. In this context, an experimental Virtual Reality (VR) application named “Desineer” was developed with Unreal game engine. The program has an easy interface where users can directly grab, drag, place and shape mesh objects. The Hands have played an important role in production throughout human history. Desineer eliminates the intermediary tools such as keyboard and mouse, with the help of VR technology, allowing the production of digital space directly by hands. By using the program, experiments were conducted on the manual production of digital space at Dumlupınar University Faculty of Architecture for students to gain new experiences. Within the scope of the study, first, discussions were held on space and the production of it for the students to develop their own ideas and perspectives, albeit fundamentally. Later, poems on different themes belonging to various poets were given to the students. The students read these poems and think about how the poems made them think and feel. Finally, the students produced improvised spaces based on these ideas and emotions using Desineer. It was observed that the workshop contributed students to the development of different perspectives on the production of space.

Abstract 1. Overview of 2nd International Conference on Science in Engineering and Technology - 22nd Sustainable Environment and Architecture (ICoSiET SENVAR 2022) The covid-19 pandemic caused a great shock to people around the world, for it caused a massive scale lockdown in the 21st century. It took millions of lives, affected people’s health [1], and created enormous disruption in education systems in more than 200 countries [2]. Furthermore, Covid-19 also account for unprecedented damage to the global economy[3][4], separating people from their loved ones and friends and transforming our built environment in fear of infection[5]. The use of spaces in our living environment then changes dramatically. The lesson should be drawn from this pandemic, for it can never be predicted when the next one will arrive [6]. A future design of the built environment shall be arranged comprehensively. Not only do we have to consider the socio-economic and sustainable living environment, but also how to create a resilient and healthy built environment. Thus, the impact of the pandemic can be minimised through planning, design, structural, physical and technological means. On the other hand, the pandemic introduces a hybrid life to us where a virtual world has become a necessity. Tantalising global challenges in our degradation environment with energy and natural resources depletion force us to have an energy-conscious awareness while providing a safe, healthy, smart and sustainable living environment. The design of the built environment thus should elaborate the virtual world and reality, which involves advanced and robust information and technology not only for the present situation but also for visionary looking to future needs. Therefore, we promote “the Green-Smart Design and Technology for the Present and the Future Built Environment” as the theme for the 2nd International Conference on Science in Engineering and Technology – 22nd Sustainable Environment and Architecture (ICoSiET SENVAR 2022). The ICoSiET SENVAR 2022 is a joint conference to bridge the role of architecture, engineering, and multi-disciplinary field stakeholders in sharing their precious ideas, theories, concepts, designs, research and experiences in creating a better world for all. This conference is hosted by the Architecture Department of Engineering Faculty, Tadulako University. ICoSiET was first organised in 2020 in Palu, Indonesia and then became a biannual conference to provide an academic forum, especially in engineering. Meanwhile, SENVAR is an annual gathering for scientists, scholars, and architects focusing on discussions related to the natural and built environment, such as building design and architecture, outdoor and indoor comfort, local and global green, urban planning and sustainability. SENVAR was first initiated and started by the late Professor Mas Santosa from the Department of Architecture, Institut Teknologi Sepuluh Nopember (ITS) in 2000 as a seminar on environmental architecture; in 2011, it changed the name to Sustainable Environment and Architecture [7]. This year we have the privilege to host ICoSiET and SENVAR and combine them into ICoSiET SENVAR 2022, putting two communities in one frame to be blended in the most recent issue of the smart and sustainable built environment.

Abstract People are spending an increasing amount of time inside buildings. Working spaces have a very strong influence on peoples’ activities and well-being. Therefore, the quality of indoor environment is important for all occupants, as it can contribute to illness and lack of productivity. An increasing number of office buildings with glass facades impact not only internal occupants, but also external users who spend time around those buildings. This paper aims to assess the interaction of internal and external users and the glass façades of office buildings in Zagreb, Croatia. The focus of this research is not only physical parameters of glass facade: materials, proportions, colours, thermal and acoustic characteristics, airtightness, and its impact on occupants. Also, the relationship between inside and outside is essential for spatial awareness. Having access to views of the outside and providing natural light are important for occupants’ well-being. Solar shading system, anti-glare protection, the tint of the glass, transparency and translucency of glass façade also significantly affect external users and their perception of the building. The graduate course ‘Architecture and Technology 1’ at the Faculty of Architecture, University of Zagreb, aims to educate master students on assessing the environmental performance of existing buildings. Analysing examples of built office buildings with glass facades and the results of student survey of internal and external users of those buildings, this paper discusses working conditions, indoor and outdoor atmosphere, technical solutions, as well as architectural approaches in accordance with implementation of principles of sustainable development. The results of this research should provide useful information on users’ satisfaction, well-being, and requirements for future application in glass facade design for office buildings.

architecture education concentrates mostly on form, space, and general subjects as well as considerations of function, and art theories about design. Least attentions are on technical matters, construction courses, which cannot stand separate from the design process. This lack of synchronization between architectural design and construction courses have resulted in the idea that only design product is paramount in architectural education. However, the nature of construction courses is mostly technical and mechanical, which make it challenging for students to understand and truncate their passion for furtherance on the subject. This paper aims to examine the problems related to the learning and understanding of construction technology and its connection with the architectural design. And also to identify the primary learning necessities essential for achieving a better learning performance in construction courses, by analyzing the curriculum of construction courses of Faculty of Architecture, EMU (Eastern Mediterranean University) as case studies, and related information in the current literature written between (1993-2015) whose discourses focus on: Teaching construction technology, Bridging the gap between Theory and Practice, Education and practice of building and Evaluating Constructive Thought of Master Builder

At the moment the Faculty of Architecture in Delft counts over 3000 students. Yearly 600 first year fresh students were admitted until September 2011. A numerus clausus has already reduced this number to 450 and seems to work as a preventative measure. The current Delft agenda for the revision of the BSc curriculum is a triple one. The actualization of the ‘building assignment’ in the contemporary perspective of the profession is the first reason for reviewing the programme. Sustainability and the shifted economic situation are changing the upcoming practice in scale, strategy and programme. Virtual techniques and division of labor (specialization) are developing topics. The second reason for reflection is about shaking up ‘design education methodology’, which could be considered as periodical maintenance. The third and in fact leading reason for change comes from the political pressure to improve the ‘study success ‘ of our students. In the Netherlands only 20 % of the university grade students in technology succeeds to obtain the diploma for the three years BSc in four years’ time. The situation at our faculty is even worse: 17%. The aim is to improve this percentage up to 70%. The BSc curriculum will be restructured thoroughly from September 2013. A national fund to promote and improve academic education in technology (WO Sprint) gave us the opportunity to carry out a comparative study on the curricula of schools of architecture as a mirror for our programme. Since 30 % of our MSc programme is composed of international students an European perspective is obvious. Moreover, the final attainment level of the curricula is becoming a European matter. For the comparison we decided to select schools of architecture which are comparable to ours: education into a Bachelor of Science (not a Bachelor in Arts), number of students and culture. The questions we hope to answer are: What are the generalities and particularities, the similarities and differences of curricula in Architecture? Which is the main content of the curricula? What is the main structure of the study programme? Which are the main (didactical) principles structuring the programme? Special attention is given to the content, structure and organisation of design education. Curricula are complex matters. Most course programmes are a result of ‘faculty tradition’ and the backgrounds are not always explicit: for this comparison the principles were mainly interpreted from practice. Data were collected from a questionnaire, course-descriptions, visitation reports and interviews with visiting teachers and international students studying in Delft. The curricula are mapped in diagrams, providing a very clear visual overview . The similarities and differences between schools of architecture are presented by a series of polarities as a range, structured in three categories: profile, programme structure, didactical principles.

AbstractA special interdisciplinary project course was offered in the Fall of 2006 within the Carnegie Institute of Technology at Carnegie Mellon University. The course was open to students from across the university, it drew participants from Civil and Environmental Engineering, Engineering and Public Policy, Materials Science and Engineering, Architecture, the School of Design. This multidisciplinary collection of students formed the necessary knowledge base to approach the various tasks of the project. Each student was to rely on their academic experience and talents to contribute to the work, while simultaneously learning from those in other disciplines. The participating material science and engineering were juniors acquainted with fundamental of materials. Some students were taking courses involving steel making process and steel mechanical properties concurrently. Students in civil and mechanical engineering and architecture are familiar with structural design and construction processes. Students in engineering and public policy and environmental engineering have experience with life cycle assessment and environmental impacts. The collaborative group experience introduced students to how disciplines interact in the real world, encouraging them to pursue their own interests in broader areas.The project consisted of three efforts assessing life cycle impact in terms of energy consumption, greenhouse gas emissions, and economic costs of equivalent products made from both steel and wood The first effort involved comparison of steel products versus wood products in existing designs. The second, looked at the optimization of steel products to improve design options and the third tried to identifying opportunities to leverage the use of steel materials in green building design and construction, based on certification requirements established by the US Green Building Council and the Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design (LEED) rating system.At Carnegie Mellon, the Green Design Initiative researchers have been leaders in life cycle assessment methodology development and assessment, and have a history of merging students and faculty from across the university into research teams. This multidisciplinary project was good example of how common topics can be exploited to provide excellent discovery opportunities for undergraduate engineering programs.

Purpose This paper aims to focus on determining the effects of location of closed offices on the front facade, rear facade and side facade plans and the indoor layout (left and right users’ cabinets) on perceptual evaluations of users of physical environmental factors. Design/methodology/approach For this purpose, the responses of 54 academic users who use the Gazi University Technology Faculty Taskent Building offices were taken with the help of a survey. Findings As a result, it was determined that office users on the front and side facades generally perceived more positively the offices’ environmental factors than office users on the back facade. In addition, it was determined that offices with storage cabinets located to the right of users (Type A) were perceived more positively than storage cabinets located to the left of users (Type B). On the other hand, it was determined that users between the ages of 25–45 who used closed offices generally perceived the physical environmental factors of offices more positively than users between the ages of 46 and 65. Originality/value Especially the location of the building, the landscaping, the plan of the rooms and the landscape to which they are directed are major design decisions that cannot be controlled by employees. Therefore, it is necessary to know the positive/negative effects that may occur during use before making design decisions.

Abstract Background Current public health challenges necessitate the closer working of public health with built environment professionals. Despite growing evidence of benefits, there remains little progress in practice. Architects can play a key role in ensuring urban and building design is health promoting, however there is no requirement to teach health by architectural accreditation bodies across Europe. Objectives In the United Kingdom in 2010, the Public Health Practitioner in Residence programme (PHPiR) was established to address this situation. Public health professionals are embedded within the Faculty of Environment and Technology at the University of the West of England, and contribute to research, pedagogic programme development, teaching and mentoring. The aim was to embed public health concepts and issues into architecture training, to empower the profession as part of the wider workforce, to improve health and wellbeing when designing buildings and places. The PHPiR was evaluated using the Reach, Effectiveness, Adoption, Implementation, Maintenance (RE-AIM) framework. Data was collected (questionnaires, focus group, semi-structured interviews, programme documentation) on a Masters of Architecture cohort (N = 34) at intervals from 2011-2019 to see if the PHPiR has long lasting effects as students enter practice. Results Public health concepts including; inequalities, life course approach, and social capital, became embedded into the architecture curriculum. Projects produced had increased reference to wider health promoting issues and participants thinking shifted from the building itself to who would use the building, suggesting the intervention achieved its aims. Conclusions The PHPiR offers a novel approach for built environment professions to better understand public health issues and the relevance to their chosen fields. This model could be applied to other courses and replicated in educational institutions and public health training programmes across Europe. Key messages The PHPiR influenced the architecture curriculum, improved architects understanding and public health issues and concepts, and empowered them to create more health promoting environments. Embedding public health professionals into training for other disciplines may be an effective, sustainable method for increasing the wider public health workforce.

The Proceeding contains papers based on invited keynote speeches and oral presentations at the International Conference on Digital & Empathic Architecture & Civil Engineering (DEACE 2021) and International Student Workshop. The event was organized by the Faculty of Civil Engineering & Planning, Petra Christian University (PCU), Surabaya, Indonesia on August 20th-21st, 2021 for the international conference and August 12th-21st, 2021 for the workshop as a series of events celebrating the 60th Anniversary of Petra Christian University. The event covered several topics: ‘Structural Engineering and Materials’, ‘Building Science and Technology’, ‘Construction Management’, and ‘Architecture and Urban Development’. DEACE presented a theme: “Digital and Empathic Engagement in the New Era for Architecture and Civil Engineering”. Digital engagement can revolutionize approach to design and engineering while supporting opportunities to accommodate the implementation of advanced technology. While empathic engagement reflects not only on effectively design and build infrastructure to meet safety and other regulatory requirements, but also understanding customer essential needs. DEACE aimed to gather researchers, scholars, and practitioners all over the world to share and exchange their knowledge and breakthrough in the fields of Architecture and Civil Engineering especially toward the new era. As the event was approaching and there was no sign of the Covid-19 pandemic slowing down earlier that year, it was decided not to postpone the event but to hold it virtually instead. The conference started with plenary sessions with four keynote speakers, and followed by parallel sessions in two rooms with four sessions. Each keynote speech took 45 minutes and 30 minutes for presentation and discussion, respectively. While speakers in parallel sessions were given 15 minutes and 5 minutes for presentation and discussion. The were 30 presenters out of 159 participants in total, consist of both academicians and professionals. They came from Indonesia as well as some other countries such as China, Taiwan, Germany, Japan and Australia. Zoom video conferencing application was used in the event which served the event very well. Editor of DEACE 2021, Dr. Antoni Antoni Dr. Pamuda Pudjisuryadi List of Welcome Speech, DEACE 2021 Scientific Committee, DEACE 2021 Conference and Workshop Coordinator and DEACE 2021 Documentation are available in this pdf.

The global COVID-19 pandemic has delivered extraordinary challenges across geographies as well as practices, and clearly academia has not been spared. While the events of 2020 and 2021 have revealed some limits to teaching in the ‘old (pre-pandemic) normal’, technology-supported pedagogies have been emerging for several years. This pandemic has been a potent catalyst, not only for ad-hoc adaptation, but potentially for long-term change and improvement. The ‘old normal’ is now long passed, and approaches to learning and teaching continue to explore new ground. This article draws on the work of Built Environments Learning + Teaching (BEL+T), an academic group within the Faculty of Architecture, Building and Planning at the University of Melbourne. The BEL+T group applies creative problem-solving and design-led approaches, evidence-based research methodologies and project-focused consultancy to improve teaching quality and student engagement in built environment disciplines. The following sections introduce a learning design framework – the Delivery, Interaction, Assessment (DIA) framework – which was developed by BEL+T as a tool to communicate with and support staff throughout 2020 and 2021, and continues to be used to support teaching efforts. The translation of the elements of the DIA framework and its related ‘DIAgram’ to specific learning activities are presented in the following sections ‘on the (virtual) ground’. Some emergent pedagogies for virtual learning environments (VLEs) are outlined, exploring relationships between students, teachers, objects, sites and VLEs for learning, alongside implications for teacher presence and performance online. These key factors have influenced online approaches both before and since the onset of the pandemic. They deliver implications for emergent hybrid approaches such as dual delivery and blended synchronous learning, which are in turn driven by the needs of a still-distributed student cohort and the challenges of ongoing unpredictability.

There is an increasing need for ensuring high energy savings throughout the building lifecycle, from the early design phases until post occupancy. Utility (services) and firmness (robustness) are principles of good design since Vitruvius, but sustainability was added as a new principle after 1980s, for a distinct understanding, evaluation and action development on energy consumption and environmental impact of buildings. Today, we are able to measure the consumption levels and environmental impact of our buildings, manage their indoor comfort, and combine this further with our personal desires. Sustainability means decreasing waste and pollution, the demand for physical resources (energy, material…) and the impact on climate change, while maintaining the indoor comfort and health conditions in a building. Design decisions for sustainability include that of land use, microclimate management, form, spatial organization, building envelope, and managing water, waste, and energy systems. The essence of sustainability lies in designing all these factors with a holistic approach, while making sure that the building is usable for the occupant. Energy efficient housing requires less energy and uses renewable energy resources in the most efficient way for the energy needed during occupancy. Kim and Rigdon (1998) define the three basic principles of sustainable design as efficient use of resources (reduce, reuse, recycle); assessment of resource consumption during construction and use; and human centered design (the interaction between the human being and the environment). This research addresses the latter, the human aspect. The buildings’ energy consumption estimated by simulation software can be validated in total, only during occupancy, when the design is tested on actual use. For residential buildings, we know that sometimes the actual energy use levels are different than the expected/calculated (Lutzenheiser, 1992; Jeeninga et al., 2001; Guerra Santin, 2010; Majcen, 2013). A couple of reasons to this can be calculation drawbacks, incorrect construction applications and unexpected occupant behavior. Therefore, better understanding of the relationship between occupant behavior and energy consumption can enable more efficient design and operation of (residential) buildings, which are more suitable to the occupants’ use considering thermal, acoustical, visual, environmental comfort, health and safety. Policy on energy efficiency in buildings focuses mostly on building characteristics and mechanical systems like heating and ventilation. Although there is strong evidence for the influence of occupant behavior on energy consumption, the effort made to gain more insight to this relationship stayed behind for a long time. This study addresses the influence of occupant behavior on energy consumption for heating and electricity use for appliances and lighting, in residential buildings. This research is conducted as a joint effort at Delft University of Technology, Faculty of Architecture, between the chair of Design Informatics; research program Computation and Performance, and the chair of Housing Quality and Process Innovation (HQPI). Chair Design Informatics, research program Computation and Performance aims to improve the performance of buildings by using computational methods for model generation and analysis, decision-making and design communication, in an interdisciplinary context. This research could contribute to the further development of computational model(s) and tools in support of user’s decision-making processes. Furthermore, one of the research goals of chair HQIP is to understand the influence of occupant behavior to energy consumption in dwellings. The PhD research of Guerra Santin (2010) and Majcen (2016) of the chair HQIP specifically focus on occupant behavior and energy consumption. This research is built partially on the same datasets as Guerra Santin (‘OTB dataset’ and ‘WoON survey’), with different research questions. Findings of Guerra Santin and Majcen’s research are referred to, in the relevant sections of this thesis. Most of the research conducted under the title of this PhD was published between 2009 and 2013.

‘Every space has become ad space’. Steve Hayden, Wired Magazine, May 2003. Marshall McLuhan’s (1964) dictum that media technologies constitute a sensory extension of the body shares a conceptual affinity with Ernst Jünger’s notion of ‘“organic construction” [which] indicates [a] synergy between man and machine’ and Walter Benjamin’s exploration of the mimetic correspondence between the organic and the inorganic, between human and non-human forms (Bolz, 2002: 19). The logo or brand is co-extensive with various media of communication – billboards, TV advertisements, fashion labels, book spines, mobile phones, etc. Often the logo is interchangeable with the product itself or a way or life. Since all social relations are mediated, whether by communications technologies or architectonic forms ranging from corporate buildings to sporting grounds to family living rooms, it follows that there can be no outside for sociality. The social is and always has been in a mutually determining relationship with mediating forms. It is in this sense that there is no outside. Such an idea has become a refrain amongst various contemporary media theorists. Here’s a sample: There is no outside position anymore, nor is this perceived as something desirable. (Lovink, 2002a: 4) Both “us” and “them” (whoever we are, whoever they are) are all always situated in this same virtual geography. There’s no outside …. There is nothing outside the vector. (Wark, 2002: 316) There is no more outside. The critique of information is in the information itself. (Lash, 2002: 220) In declaring a universality for media culture and information flows, all of the above statements acknowledge the political and conceptual failure of assuming a critical position outside socio-technically constituted relations. Similarly, they recognise the problems inherent in the “ideology critique” of the Frankfurt School who, in their distinction between “truth” and “false-consciousness”, claimed a sort of absolute knowledge for the critic that transcended the field of ideology as it is produced by the culture industry. Althusser’s more complex conception of ideology, material practices and subject formation nevertheless also fell prey to the pretence of historical materialism as an autonomous “science” that is able to determine the totality, albeit fragmented, of lived social relations. One of the key failings of ideology critique, then, is its incapacity to account for the ways in which the critic, theorist or intellectual is implicated in the operations of ideology. That is, such approaches displace the reflexivity and power relationships between epistemology, ontology and their constitution as material practices within socio-political institutions and historical constellations, which in turn are the settings for the formation of ideology. Scott Lash abandons the term ideology altogether due to its conceptual legacies within German dialectics and French post-structuralist aporetics, both of which ‘are based in a fundamental dualism, a fundamental binary, of the two types of reason. One speaks of grounding and reconciliation, the other of unbridgeability …. Both presume a sphere of transcendence’ (Lash, 2002: 8). Such assertions can be made at a general level concerning these diverse and often conflicting approaches when they are reduced to categories for the purpose of a polemic. However, the work of “post-structuralists” such as Foucault, Deleuze and Guattari and the work of German systems theorist Niklas Luhmann is clearly amenable to the task of critique within information societies (see Rossiter, 2003). Indeed, Lash draws on such theorists in assembling his critical dispositif for the information age. More concretely, Lash (2002: 9) advances his case for a new mode of critique by noting the socio-technical and historical shift from ‘constitutive dualisms of the era of the national manufacturing society’ to global information cultures, whose constitutive form is immanent to informational networks and flows. Such a shift, according to Lash, needs to be met with a corresponding mode of critique: Ideologycritique [ideologiekritik] had to be somehow outside of ideology. With the disappearance of a constitutive outside, informationcritique must be inside of information. There is no outside any more. (2002: 10) Lash goes on to note, quite rightly, that ‘Informationcritique itself is branded, another object of intellectual property, machinically mediated’ (2002: 10). It is the political and conceptual tensions between information critique and its regulation via intellectual property regimes which condition critique as yet another brand or logo that I wish to explore in the rest of this essay. Further, I will question the supposed erasure of a “constitutive outside” to the field of socio-technical relations within network societies and informational economies. Lash is far too totalising in supposing a break between industrial modes of production and informational flows. Moreover, the assertion that there is no more outside to information too readily and simplistically assumes informational relations as universal and horizontally organised, and hence overlooks the significant structural, cultural and economic obstacles to participation within media vectors. That is, there certainly is an outside to information! Indeed, there are a plurality of outsides. These outsides are intertwined with the flows of capital and the imperial biopower of Empire, as Hardt and Negri (2000) have argued. As difficult as it may be to ascertain the boundaries of life in all its complexity, borders, however defined, nonetheless exist. Just ask the so-called “illegal immigrant”! This essay identifies three key modalities comprising a constitutive outside: material (uneven geographies of labour-power and the digital divide), symbolic (cultural capital), and strategic (figures of critique). My point of reference in developing this inquiry will pivot around an analysis of the importation in Australia of the British “Creative Industries” project and the problematic foundation such a project presents to the branding and commercialisation of intellectual labour. The creative industries movement – or Queensland Ideology, as I’ve discussed elsewhere with Danny Butt (2002) – holds further implications for the political and economic position of the university vis-à-vis the arts and humanities. Creative industries constructs itself as inside the culture of informationalism and its concomitant economies by the very fact that it is an exercise in branding. Such branding is evidenced in the discourses, rhetoric and policies of creative industries as adopted by university faculties, government departments and the cultural industries and service sectors seeking to reposition themselves in an institutional environment that is adjusting to ongoing structural reforms attributed to the demands by the “New Economy” for increased labour flexibility and specialisation, institutional and economic deregulation, product customisation and capital accumulation. Within the creative industries the content produced by labour-power is branded as copyrights and trademarks within the system of Intellectual Property Regimes (IPRs). However, as I will go on to show, a constitutive outside figures in material, symbolic and strategic ways that condition the possibility of creative industries. The creative industries project, as envisioned by the Blair government’s Department of Culture, Media and Sport (DCMS) responsible for the Creative Industry Task Force Mapping Documents of 1998 and 2001, is interested in enhancing the “creative” potential of cultural labour in order to extract a commercial value from cultural objects and services. Just as there is no outside for informationcritique, for proponents of the creative industries there is no culture that is worth its name if it is outside a market economy. That is, the commercialisation of “creativity” – or indeed commerce as a creative undertaking – acts as a legitimising function and hence plays a delimiting role for “culture” and, by association, sociality. And let us not forget, the institutional life of career academics is also at stake in this legitimating process. The DCMS cast its net wide when defining creative sectors and deploys a lexicon that is as vague and unquantifiable as the next mission statement by government and corporate bodies enmeshed within a neo-liberal paradigm. At least one of the key proponents of the creative industries in Australia is ready to acknowledge this (see Cunningham, 2003). The list of sectors identified as holding creative capacities in the CITF Mapping Document include: film, music, television and radio, publishing, software, interactive leisure software, design, designer fashion, architecture, performing arts, crafts, arts and antique markets, architecture and advertising. The Mapping Document seeks to demonstrate how these sectors consist of ‘... activities which have their origin in individual creativity, skill and talent and which have the potential for wealth and job creation through generation and exploitation of intellectual property’ (CITF: 1998/2001). The CITF’s identification of intellectual property as central to the creation of jobs and wealth firmly places the creative industries within informational and knowledge economies. Unlike material property, intellectual property such as artistic creations (films, music, books) and innovative technical processes (software, biotechnologies) are forms of knowledge that do not diminish when they are distributed. This is especially the case when information has been encoded in a digital form and distributed through technologies such as the internet. In such instances, information is often attributed an “immaterial” and nonrivalrous quality, although this can be highly misleading for both the conceptualisation of information and the politics of knowledge production. Intellectual property, as distinct from material property, operates as a scaling device in which the unit cost of labour is offset by the potential for substantial profit margins realised by distribution techniques availed by new information and communication technologies (ICTs) and their capacity to infinitely reproduce the digital commodity object as a property relation. Within the logic of intellectual property regimes, the use of content is based on the capacity of individuals and institutions to pay. The syndication of media content ensures that market saturation is optimal and competition is kept to a minimum. However, such a legal architecture and hegemonic media industry has run into conflict with other net cultures such as open source movements and peer-to-peer networks (Lovink, 2002b; Meikle, 2002), which is to say nothing of the digital piracy of software and digitally encoded cinematic forms. To this end, IPRs are an unstable architecture for extracting profit. The operation of Intellectual Property Regimes constitutes an outside within creative industries by alienating labour from its mode of information or form of expression. Lash is apposite on this point: ‘Intellectual property carries with it the right to exclude’ (Lash, 2002: 24). This principle of exclusion applies not only to those outside the informational economy and culture of networks as result of geographic, economic, infrastructural, and cultural constraints. The very practitioners within the creative industries are excluded from control over their creations. It is in this sense that a legal and material outside is established within an informational society. At the same time, this internal outside – to put it rather clumsily – operates in a constitutive manner in as much as the creative industries, by definition, depend upon the capacity to exploit the IP produced by its primary source of labour. For all the emphasis the Mapping Document places on exploiting intellectual property, it’s really quite remarkable how absent any elaboration or considered development of IP is from creative industries rhetoric. It’s even more astonishing that media and cultural studies academics have given at best passing attention to the issues of IPRs. Terry Flew (2002: 154-159) is one of the rare exceptions, though even here there is no attempt to identify the implications IPRs hold for those working in the creative industries sectors. Perhaps such oversights by academics associated with the creative industries can be accounted for by the fact that their own jobs rest within the modern, industrial institution of the university which continues to offer the security of a salary award system and continuing if not tenured employment despite the onslaught of neo-liberal reforms since the 1980s. Such an industrial system of traditional and organised labour, however, does not define the labour conditions for those working in the so-called creative industries. Within those sectors engaged more intensively in commercialising culture, labour practices closely resemble work characterised by the dotcom boom, which saw young people working excessively long hours without any of the sort of employment security and protection vis-à-vis salary, health benefits and pension schemes peculiar to traditional and organised labour (see McRobbie, 2002; Ross, 2003). During the dotcom mania of the mid to late 90s, stock options were frequently offered to people as an incentive for offsetting the often minimum or even deferred payment of wages (see Frank, 2000). It is understandable that the creative industries project holds an appeal for managerial intellectuals operating in arts and humanities disciplines in Australia, most particularly at Queensland University of Technology (QUT), which claims to have established the ‘world’s first’ Creative Industries faculty (http://www.creativeindustries.qut.com/). The creative industries provide a validating discourse for those suffering anxiety disorders over what Ruth Barcan (2003) has called the ‘usefulness’ of ‘idle’ intellectual pastimes. As a project that endeavours to articulate graduate skills with labour markets, the creative industries is a natural extension of the neo-liberal agenda within education as advocated by successive governments in Australia since the Dawkins reforms in the mid 1980s (see Marginson and Considine, 2000). Certainly there’s a constructive dimension to this: graduates, after all, need jobs and universities should display an awareness of market conditions; they also have a responsibility to do so. And on this count, I find it remarkable that so many university departments in my own field of communications and media studies are so bold and, let’s face it, stupid, as to make unwavering assertions about market demands and student needs on the basis of doing little more than sniffing the wind! Time for a bit of a reality check, I’d say. And this means becoming a little more serious about allocating funds and resources towards market research and analysis based on the combination of needs between students, staff, disciplinary values, university expectations, and the political economy of markets. However, the extent to which there should be a wholesale shift of the arts and humanities into a creative industries model is open to debate. The arts and humanities, after all, are a set of disciplinary practices and values that operate as a constitutive outside for creative industries. Indeed, in their creative industries manifesto, Stuart Cunningham and John Hartley (2002) loath the arts and humanities in such confused, paradoxical and hypocritical ways in order to establish the arts and humanities as a cultural and ideological outside. To this end, to subsume the arts and humanities into the creative industries, if not eradicate them altogether, is to spell the end of creative industries as it’s currently conceived at the institutional level within academe. Too much specialisation in one post-industrial sector, broad as it may be, ensures a situation of labour reserves that exceed market needs. One only needs to consider all those now unemployed web-designers that graduated from multi-media programs in the mid to late 90s. Further, it does not augur well for the inevitable shift from or collapse of a creative industries economy. Where is the standing reserve of labour shaped by university education and training in a post-creative industries economy? Diehard neo-liberals and true-believers in the capacity for perpetual institutional flexibility would say that this isn’t a problem. The university will just “organically” adapt to prevailing market conditions and shape their curriculum and staff composition accordingly. Perhaps. Arguably if the university is to maintain a modality of time that is distinct from the just-in-time mode of production characteristic of informational economies – and indeed, such a difference is a quality that defines the market value of the educational commodity – then limits have to be established between institutions of education and the corporate organisation or creative industry entity. The creative industries project is a reactionary model insofar as it reinforces the status quo of labour relations within a neo-liberal paradigm in which bids for industry contracts are based on a combination of rich technological infrastructures that have often been subsidised by the state (i.e. paid for by the public), high labour skills, a low currency exchange rate and the lowest possible labour costs. In this respect it is no wonder that literature on the creative industries omits discussion of the importance of unions within informational, networked economies. What is the place of unions in a labour force constituted as individualised units? The conditions of possibility for creative industries within Australia are at once its frailties. In many respects, the success of the creative industries sector depends upon the ongoing combination of cheap labour enabled by a low currency exchange rate and the capacity of students to access the skills and training offered by universities. Certainly in relation to matters such as these there is no outside for the creative industries. There’s a great need to explore alternative economic models to the content production one if wealth is to be successfully extracted and distributed from activities in the new media sectors. The suggestion that the creative industries project initiates a strategic response to the conditions of cultural production within network societies and informational economies is highly debateable. The now well documented history of digital piracy in the film and software industries and the difficulties associated with regulating violations to proprietors of IP in the form of copyright and trademarks is enough of a reason to look for alternative models of wealth extraction. And you can be sure this will occur irrespective of the endeavours of the creative industries. To conclude, I am suggesting that those working in the creative industries, be they content producers or educators, need to intervene in IPRs in such a way that: 1) ensures the alienation of their labour is minimised; 2) collectivising “creative” labour in the form of unions or what Wark (2001) has termed the “hacker class”, as distinct from the “vectoralist class”, may be one way of achieving this; and 3) the advocates of creative industries within the higher education sector in particular are made aware of the implications IPRs have for graduates entering the workforce and adjust their rhetoric, curriculum, and policy engagements accordingly. Works Cited Barcan, Ruth. ‘The Idleness of Academics: Reflections on the Usefulness of Cultural Studies’. Continuum: Journal of Media & Cultural Studies (forthcoming, 2003). Bolz, Norbert. ‘Rethinking Media Aesthetics’, in Geert Lovink, Uncanny Networks: Dialogues with the Virtual Intelligentsia. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2002, 18-27. Butt, Danny and Rossiter, Ned. ‘Blowing Bubbles: Post-Crash Creative Industries and the Withering of Political Critique in Cultural Studies’. Paper presented at Ute Culture: The Utility of Culture and the Uses of Cultural Studies, Cultural Studies Association of Australia Conference, Melbourne, 5-7 December, 2002. Posted to fibreculture mailing list, 10 December, 2002, http://www.fibreculture.org/archives/index.html Creative Industry Task Force: Mapping Document, DCMS (Department of Culture, Media and Sport), London, 1998/2001. http://www.culture.gov.uk/creative/mapping.html Cunningham, Stuart. ‘The Evolving Creative Industries: From Original Assumptions to Contemporary Interpretations’. Seminar Paper, QUT, Brisbane, 9 May, 2003, http://www.creativeindustries.qut.com/research/cirac/documen... ...ts/THE_EVOLVING_CREATIVE_INDUSTRIES.pdf Cunningham, Stuart; Hearn, Gregory; Cox, Stephen; Ninan, Abraham and Keane, Michael. Brisbane’s Creative Industries 2003. Report delivered to Brisbane City Council, Community and Economic Development, Brisbane: CIRAC, 2003. http://www.creativeindustries.qut.com/research/cirac/documen... ...ts/bccreportonly.pdf Flew, Terry. New Media: An Introduction. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002. Frank, Thomas. One Market under God: Extreme Capitalism, Market Populism, and the End of Economic Democracy. New York: Anchor Books, 2000. Hartley, John and Cunningham, Stuart. ‘Creative Industries: from Blue Poles to fat pipes’, in Malcolm Gillies (ed.) The National Humanities and Social Sciences Summit: Position Papers. Canberra: DEST, 2002. Hayden, Steve. ‘Tastes Great, Less Filling: Ad Space – Will Advertisers Learn the Hard Lesson of Over-Development?’. Wired Magazine 11.06 (June, 2003), http://www.wired.com/wired/archive/11.06/ad_spc.html Hardt, Michael and Negri, Antonio. Empire. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2000. Lash, Scott. Critique of Information. London: Sage, 2002. Lovink, Geert. Uncanny Networks: Dialogues with the Virtual Intelligentsia. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2002a. Lovink, Geert. Dark Fiber: Tracking Critical Internet Culture. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2002b. McLuhan, Marshall. Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1964. McRobbie, Angela. ‘Clubs to Companies: Notes on the Decline of Political Culture in Speeded up Creative Worlds’, Cultural Studies 16.4 (2002): 516-31. Marginson, Simon and Considine, Mark. The Enterprise University: Power, Governance and Reinvention in Australia. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. Meikle, Graham. Future Active: Media Activism and the Internet. Sydney: Pluto Press, 2002. Ross, Andrew. No-Collar: The Humane Workplace and Its Hidden Costs. New York: Basic Books, 2003. Rossiter, Ned. ‘Processual Media Theory’, in Adrian Miles (ed.) Streaming Worlds: 5th International Digital Arts & Culture (DAC) Conference. 19-23 May. Melbourne: RMIT University, 2003, 173-184. http://hypertext.rmit.edu.au/dac/papers/Rossiter.pdf Sassen, Saskia. Losing Control? Sovereignty in an Age of Globalization. New York: Columbia University Press, 1996. Wark, McKenzie. ‘Abstraction’ and ‘Hack’, in Hugh Brown, Geert Lovink, Helen Merrick, Ned Rossiter, David Teh, Michele Willson (eds). Politics of a Digital Present: An Inventory of Australian Net Culture, Criticism and Theory. Melbourne: Fibreculture Publications, 2001, 3-7, 99-102. Wark, McKenzie. ‘The Power of Multiplicity and the Multiplicity of Power’, in Geert Lovink, Uncanny Networks: Dialogues with the Virtual Intelligentsia. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2002, 314-325. Links http://hypertext.rmit.edu.au/dac/papers/Rossiter.pdf http://www.creativeindustries.qut.com/ http://www.creativeindustries.qut.com/research/cirac/documents/THE_EVOLVING_CREATIVE_INDUSTRIES.pdf http://www.creativeindustries.qut.com/research/cirac/documents/bccreportonly.pdf http://www.culture.gov.uk/creative/mapping.html http://www.fibreculture.org/archives/index.html http://www.wired.com/wired/archive/11.06/ad_spc.html Citation reference for this article Substitute your date of access for Dn Month Year etc... MLA Style Rossiter, Ned. "Creative Industries and the Limits of Critique from " M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture< http://www.media-culture.org.au/0306/11-creativeindustries.php>. APA Style Rossiter, N. (2003, Jun 19). Creative Industries and the Limits of Critique from . M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture, 6,< http://www.media-culture.org.au/0306/11-creativeindustries.php>

Every crisis at the same time reveals, forewarns and implies changes with cyclical trends that can be analyzed from different disciplinary perspectives, building scenarios to anticipate the future, despite uncertainties and risks. And the current crisis certainly appears as one of the most problematic of the modern era: recently, Luigi Ferrara, Director of the School of Design at the George Brown College in Toronto and of the connected Institute without Boundaries, highlighted how the pandemic has simply accelerated undergoing dynamics, exacerbating other crises – climatic, environmental, social, economic – which had already been going on for a long time both locally and globally. In the most economically developed contexts, from North America to Europe, the Covid emergency has led, for example, to the closure of almost 30% of the retail trade, as well as to the disposal and sale of many churches. Places of care and assistance, such as hospitals and elderly houses, have become places of death and isolation for over a year, or have been closed. At the same time, the pandemic has imposed the revolution of the remote working and education, which was heralded – without much success – more than twenty years ago. In these even contradictory dynamics, Ferrara sees many possibilities: new roles for stronger and more capable public institutions as well as the opportunity to rethink and redesign the built environment and the landscape. Last but not least, against a future that could be configured as dystopian, a unique chance to enable forms of citizenship and communities capable of inhabiting more sustainable, intelligent and ethical cities and territories; and architects capable of designing them. This multifactorial and pervasive crisis seems therefore to impose a deep review of the current unequal development models, in the perspective of that “creative destruction” that Schumpeter placed at the basis of the dynamic entrepreneurial push: «To produce means to combine materials and forces within our reach. To produce other things, or the same things by a different method, means to combine these materials and forces differently» (Schumpeter, 1912). A concept well suiting to the design practice as a response to social needs and improving the living conditions. This is the perspective of Architectural Technology, in its various forms, which has always placed the experimental method at the center of its action. As Eduardo Vittoria already pointed out: «The specific contribution of the technological project to the development of an industrial culture is aimed at balancing the emotional-aesthetic data of the design with the technical-productive data of the industry. Design becomes a place of convergence of ideas and skills related to factuality, based on a multidisciplinary intelligence» (Vittoria, 1999). A lucid and appropriate critique of the many formalistic emphases that have invested contemporary architecture. In the most acute phases of the pandemic, the radical nature of this polycrisis has been repeatedly invoked as a lever for an equally radical modification of the development models, for the definitive defeat of conjunctural and emergency modes of action. With particular reference to the Italian context, however, it seems improper to talk about a “change of models” – whether economic, social, productive or programming, rather than technological innovation – since in the national reality the models and reference systems prove to not to be actually structured. The current socio-economic and productive framework, and the political and planning actions themselves, are rather a variegated and disordered set of consolidated practices, habits often distorted when not deleterious, that correspond to stratified regulatory apparatuses, which are inconsistent and often ineffective. It is even more difficult to talk about programmatic rationality models in the specific sector of construction and built environment transformation, where the enunciation of objectives and the prospection of planning actions rarely achieve adequate projects and certain implementation processes, verified for the consistency of the results obtained and monitored for the ability in maintaining the required performance over time. Rather than “changing the model”, in the Italian case, we should therefore talk about giving shape and implementation to an organic and rational system of multilevel and inter-sectorial governance models, which assumes the principles of subsidiarity, administrative decentralization, inter-institutional and public-private cooperation. But, even in the current situation, with the pandemic not yet over, we are already experiencing a sort of “return to order”: after having envisaged radical changes – new urban models environmentally and climatically more sustainable, residential systems and public spaces more responsive to the pressing needs of social demand, priority actions to redevelop the suburbs and to strength infrastructures and ecosystem services, new advanced forms of decision-making decentralization for the co-planning of urban and territorial transformations, and so on – everything seems to has been reset to zero. This is evident from the list of actions and projects proposed by the National Recovery and Resilience Plan (NRRP), where no clear national strategy for green transition emerges, even though it is repeatedly mentioned. As highlighted by the Coordination of Technical-Scientific Associations for the Environment and Landscape1, and as required by EU guidelines2, this transition requires a paradigm shift that assumes eco-sustainability as a transversal guideline for all actions. With the primary objective of protecting ecosystem balances, improving and enhancing the natural and landscape capital, as well as protecting citizen health and well-being from environmental risks and from those generated by improper anthropization phenomena. The contents of the Plan explicitly emphases the need to «repair the economic and social damage of the pandemic crisis» and to «contribute to addressing the structural weaknesses of the Italian economy», two certainly relevant objectives, the pursuit of which, however, could paradoxically contrast precisely with the transition to a more sustainable development. In the Plan, the green revolution and the ecological transition are resolved in a dedicated axis (waste management, hydrogen, energy efficiency of buildings, without however specific reform guidelines of the broader “energy” sector), while «only one of the projects of the Plan regards directly the theme Biodiversity / Ecosystem / Landscape, and in a completely marginal way» (CATAP, 2021). Actions are also limited for assessing the environmental sustainability of the interventions, except the provision of an ad hoc Commission for the streamlining of some procedural steps and a generic indication of compliance with the DNSH-Do not significant Harm criterion (do not cause any significant damage), without specific guidelines on the evaluation methods. Moreover, little or nothing in the Plan refers on actions and investments in urban renewal, abandoned heritage recovery3, of in protecting and enhancing areas characterized by environmental sensitivity/fragility; situations widely present on the national territory, which are instead the first resource for a structural environmental transition. Finally yet importantly, the well-known inability to manage expenditure and the public administration inefficiencies must be considered: a limit not only to the effective implementation of projects, but also to the control of the relationship between time, costs and quality (also environmental) of the interventions. In many places, the Plan has been talked about as an opportunity for a real “reconstruction”, similar to that of post-war Italy; forgetting that the socio-economic renaissance was driven by the INA-Casa Plan4, but also by a considerable robustness of the cultural approach in the research and experimentation of new housing models (Schiaffonati, 2014)5. A possible “model”, which – appropriately updated in socio-technical and environmental terms – could be a reference for an incisive governmental action aiming at answering to a question – the one of the housing – far from being resolved and still a priority, if not an emergency. The crisis also implies the deployment of new skills, with a review of outdated disciplinary approaches, abandoning all corporate resistances and subcultures that have long prevented the change. A particularly deep fracture in our country, which has implications in research, education and professions, dramatically evident in the disciplines of architectural and urban design. Coherently with the EU Strategic Agenda 2019-2024 and the European Pillar of Social Rights, the action plan presented by the Commission in March 2021, with the commitment of the Declaration of Porto on May 7, sets three main objectives for 2030: an employment rate higher than 78%, the participation of more than 60% of adults in training courses every year and at least 15 million fewer people at risk of social exclusion or poverty6. Education, training and retraining, lifelong learning and employment-oriented skills, placed at the center of EU policy action, now require large investments, to stimulate employment transitions towards the emerging sectors of green, circular and digital economies (environmental design and assessment, risk assessment & management, safety, durability and maintainability, design and management of the life cycle of plans, projects, building systems and components: contents that are completely marginal or absent in the current training offer of Architecture). Departments and PhDs in the Technological Area have actively worked with considerable effectiveness in this field. In these regards, we have to recall the role played by Romano Del Nord «protagonist for commitment and clarity in identifying fundamental strategic lines for the cultural and professional training of architects, in the face of unprecedented changes of the environmental and production context» (Schiaffonati, 2021). Today, on the other hand, the axis of permanent and technical training is almost forgotten by ministerial and university policies for the reorganization of teaching systems, with a lack of strategic visions for bridging the deficit of skills that characterizes the area of architecture on the facing environmental and socio-economic challenges. Also and precisely in the dual perspective of greater interaction with the research systems and with the world of companies and institutions, and of that trans- and multi-disciplinary dimension of knowledge, methods and techniques necessary for the ecological transition of settlement systems and construction sector. Due to the high awareness of the Technological Area about the multifactorial and multi-scale dimension of the crises that recurrently affect our territories, SITdA has been configured since its foundation as a place for scientific and cultural debate on the research and training themes. With a critical approach to the consoling academic attitude looking for a “specific disciplinary” external and extraneous to the social production of goods and services. Finalizing the action of our community to «activate relationships between universities, professions, institutions through the promotion of the technological culture of architecture [...], to offer scientific-cultural resources for the training and qualification of young researchers [...], in collaboration with the national education system in order to advance training in the areas of technology and innovation in architecture» (SITdA Statute, 2007). Goals and topics which seem to be current, which Techne intends to resume and develop in the next issues, and already widely present in this n. 22 dedicated to the Circular Economy. A theme that, as emerges from the contributions, permeates the entire field of action of the project: housing, services, public space, suburbs, infrastructures, production, buildings. All contexts in which technological innovation invests both processes and products: artificial intelligence, robotics and automation, internet of things, 3D printing, sensors, nano and biotechnology, biomaterials, biogenetics and neuroscience feed advanced experiments that cross-fertilize different contributions towards common objectives of circularity and sustainability. In this context, the issue of waste, the superfluous, abandonment and waste, emerge, raising the question of re-purpose: an action that crosses a large panel of cases, due to the presence of a vast heritage of resources – materials, artefacts, spaces and entire territories – to be recovered and re-functionalized, transforming, adapting, reusing, reconverting, reactivating the existing for new purposes and uses, or adapting it to new and changing needs. Therefore, by adopting strategies and techniques of reconversion and reuse, of re-manufacturing and recycling of construction and demolition waste, of design for disassembly that operate along even unprecedented supply chains and which are accompanied by actions to extend the useful life cycle of materials , components and building systems, as well as product service logic also extended to durable goods such as the housing. These are complex perspectives but considerably interesting, feasible through the activation of adequate and updated skills systems, for a necessary and possible future, precisely starting from the ability – as designers, researchers and teachers in the area of Architectural Technology – to read the space and conceive a project within a system of rationalities, albeit limited, but substantially founded, which qualify the interventions through approaches validated in research and experimental verification. Contrarily to any ineffective academicism, which corresponds in fact to a condition of subordination caused by the hegemonic dynamics at the base of the crisis itself, but also by a loss of authority that derives from the inadequate preparation of the architects. An expropriation that legitimizes the worst ignorance in the government of the territories, cities and artifacts. Education in Architecture, strictly connected to the research from which contents and methods derive, has its central pivot in the project didactic: activity by its nature of a practical and experimental type, applied to specific places and contexts, concrete and material, and characterized by considerable complexity, due to the multiplicity of factors involved. This is what differentiates the construction sector, delegated to territorial and urban transformations, from any other sector. A sector that borrows its knowledge from other production processes, importing technologies and materials. With a complex integration of which the project is charged, for the realization of the buildings, along a succession of phases for corresponding to multiple regulatory and procedural constraints. The knowledge and rationalization of these processes are the basis of the evolution of the design and construction production approaches, as well as merely intuitive logics. These aspects were the subject of in-depth study at the SITdA National Conference on “Producing Project” (Reggio Calabria, 2018), and relaunched in a new perspective by the International Conference “The project in the digital age. Technology, Nature, Culture” scheduled in Naples on the 1st-2nd of July 2021. A reflection that Techne intends to further develop through the sharing of knowledge and scientific debate, selecting topics of great importance, to give voice to a new phase and recalling the practice of design research, in connection with the production context, institutions and social demand. “Inside the Polycrisis. The possible necessary” is the theme of the call we launched for n. 23, to plan the future despite the uncertainties and risks, foreshadowing strategies that support a unavoidable change, also by operating within the dynamics that, for better or for worse, will be triggered by the significant resources committed to the implementation of the Recovery Plan. To envisage systematic actions based on the centrality of a rational programming, of environmentally appropriate design at the architectural, urban and territorial scales, and of a continuous monitoring of the implementation processes. With the commitment also to promote, after each release, a public moment of reflection and critical assessment on the research progresses. NOTES 1 “Osservazioni del Coordinamento delle Associazioni Tecnico-scientifiche per l’Ambiente e il Paesaggio al PNRR”, 2021. 2 EU Guidelines, SWD-2021-12 final, 21.1.2021. 3 For instance, we can consider the 7,000 km of dismissed railways, with related buildings and areas. 4 The two seven-year activities of the Plan (1949-1963) promoted by Amintore Fanfani, Minister of Labor and Social Security at the time, represented both an employment and a social maneuver, which left us the important legacy of neighborhoods that still today they have their own precise identity, testimony of the architectural culture of the Italian twentieth century. But also a «grandiose machine for the housing» (Samonà, 1949), based on a clear institutional and organizational reorganization, with the establishment of a single body (articulated in the plan implementation committee, led by Filiberto Guala, with regulatory functions of disbursement of funds, assignment of tasks and supervision, and in the INA-Casa Management directed by the architect Arnaldo Foschini, then dean of the Faculty of Architecture), which led to the construction of two million rooms for over 350,000 families. See Di Biagi F. (2013), Il Contributo italiano alla storia del Pensiero – Tecnica, Enciclopedia Treccani. 5 From Quaderni of the Centro Studi INA-Casa, to Gescal and in the Eighties to the activity of CER. Complex theme investigated by Fabrizio Schiaffonati in Il progetto della residenza sociale, edited by Raffaella Riva. 6 Ferruccio De Bortoli underlines in Corriere della Sera of 15 May 2021: «The revolution of lifelong learning (which) is no less important for Brussels than the digital or green one. By 2030, at least 60 per cent of the active population will have to participate in training courses every year. It will be said: but 2030 is far away. There’s time. No, because most people have escaped that to achieve this goal, by 2025 – that is, in less than four years – 120 million Europeans will ideally return to school. A kind of great educational vaccination campaign. Day after tomorrow».

IntroductionI have been studying the creation of Metro style train travel in Sydney for over a decade. My focus has been on the impact that media has had on the process (see Richardson, “Curatorial”; “Upheaval”; “Making”). Through extensive expert, public, and media research, I have investigated the coalitions and alliances that have formed (and disintegrated) between political, bureaucratic, news media, and public actors and the influences at work within these actor-networks. As part of this project, I visited an underground Métro turning fifty in Montreal, Canada. After many years studying the development of a train that wasn’t yet tangible, I wanted to ask a functional train the simple ethnomethodological/Latourian style question, “what do you do for a city and its people?” (de Vries). Therefore, in addition to research conducted in Montreal, I spent ten days wandering through many of the entrances, tunnels, staircases, escalators, mezzanines, platforms, doorways, and carriages of which the Métro system consists. The purpose was to observe the train in situ in order to broaden potential conceptualisations of what a train does for a city such as Montreal, with a view of improving the ideas and messages that would be used to “sell” future rapid rail projects in other cities such as Sydney. This article outlines a selection of the pathways wandered, not only to illustrate the power of social research based on physical wandering, but also the potential power the metaphorical and conceptual wandering an Actor-Network Theory (ANT) assemblage affords social research for media communications.Context, Purpose, and ApproachANT is a hybrid theory/method for studying an arena of the social, such as the significance of a train to a city like Montreal. This type of study is undertaken by following the actors (Latour, Reassembling 12). In ANT, actors do something, as the term suggests. These actions have affects and effects. These might be contrived and deliberate influences or completely circumstantial and accidental impacts. Actors can be people as we are most commonly used to understanding them, and they can also be texts, technological devices, software programs, natural phenomena, or random occurrences. Most significantly though, actors are their “relations” (Harman 17). This means that they are only present if they are relating to others. These relations and the resulting influences and impacts are called networks. A network in the ANT sense is not as simple as the lines that connect train stations on a rail map. Without actions, relations, influences, and impacts, there are no actors. Hence the hyphen in actor-network; the actor and the network are symbiotic. The network, rendered visible through actor associations, consists of the tenuous connections that “shuttle back and forth” between actors even in spite of the fact their areas of knowledge and reality may be completely separate (Latour Modern 3). ANT, therefore, may be considered an empirical practice of tracing the actors and the network of influences and impacts that they both help to shape and are themselves shaped by. To do this, central ANT theorist Bruno Latour employs a simple research question: “what do you do?” This is because in the process of doing, somebody or something is observed to be affecting other people or things and an actor-network becomes identifiable. Latour later learned that his approach shared many parallels with ethnomethodology. This was a discovery that more concretely set the trajectory of his work away from a social science that sought explanations “about why something happens, to ontological ones, that is, questions about what is going on” (de Vries). So, in order to make sense of people’s actions and relations, the focus of research became asking the deceptively simple question while refraining as much as possible “from offering descriptions and explanations of actions in terms of schemes taught in social theory classes” (14).In answering this central ANT question, studies typically wander in a metaphorical sense through an array or assemblage (Law) of research methods such as formal and informal interviews, ethnographic style observation, as well as the content analysis of primary and secondary texts (see Latour, Aramis). These were the methods adopted for my Montreal research—in addition to fifteen in-depth expert and public interviews conducted in October 2017, ten days were spent physically wandering and observing the train in action. I hoped that in understanding what the train does for the city and its people, the actor-network within which the train is situated would be revealed. Of course, “what do you do?” is a very broad question. It requires context. In following the influence of news media in the circuitous development of rapid rail transit in Sydney, I have been struck by the limited tropes through which the potential for rapid rail is discussed. These tropes focus on technological, functional, and/or operational aspects (see Budd; Faruqi; Hasham), costs, funding and return on investment (see Martin and O’Sullivan; Saulwick), and the potential to alleviate peak hour congestion (see Clennell; West). As an expert respondent in my Sydney research, a leading Australian architect and planner, states, “How boring and unexciting […] I mean in Singapore it is the most exciting […] the trains are fantastic […] that wasn’t sold to the [Sydney] public.” So, the purpose of the Montreal research is to expand conceptualisations of the potential for rapid rail infrastructure to influence a city and improve communications used to sell projects in the future, as well as to test the role of both physical and metaphorical ANT style wanderings in doing so. Montreal was chosen for three reasons. First, the Métro had recently turned fifty, which made the comparison between the fledgling and mature systems topical. Second, the Métro was preceded by decades of media discussion (Gilbert and Poitras), which parallels the development of rapid transit in Sydney. Finally, a different architect designed each station and most stations feature art installations (Magder). Therefore, the Métro appeared to have transcended the aforementioned functional and numerically focused tropes used to justify the Sydney system. Could such a train be considered a long-term success?Wandering and PathwaysIn ten days I rode the Montreal Métro from end to end. I stopped at all the stations. I wandered around. I treated wandering not just as a physical research activity, but also as an illustrative metaphor for an assemblage of research practices. This assemblage culminates in testimony, anecdotes, stories, and descriptions through which an actor-network may be glimpsed. Of course, it is incomplete—what I have outlined below represents only a few pathways. However, to think that an actor-network can ever be traversed in its entirety is to miss the point. Completion is a fallacy. Wandering doesn’t end at a finish line. There are always pathways left untrodden. I have attempted not to overanalyse. I have left contradictions unresolved. I have avoided the temptation to link paths through tenuous byways. Some might consider that I have meandered, but an actor-network is never linear. I can only hope that my wanderings, as curtailed as they may be, prove nuanced, colourful, and rich—if not compelling. ANT encourages us to rethink social research (Latour, Reassembling). Central to this is acknowledging (and becoming comfortable with) our own role as researcher in the illumination of the actor-network itself.Here are some of the Montreal pathways wandered:First Impressions I arrive at Montreal airport late afternoon. The apartment I have rented is conveniently located between two Métro stations—Mont Royal and Sherbrooke. I use my phone and seek directions by public transport. To my surprise, the only option is the bus. Too tired to work out connections, I decide instead to follow the signs to the taxi rank. Here, I queue. We are underway twenty minutes later. Travelling around peak traffic, we move from one traffic jam to the next. The trip is slow. Finally ensconced in the apartment, I reflect on how different the trip into Montreal had been, from what I had envisaged. The Métro I had travelled to visit was conspicuous in its total absence.FloatingIt is a feeling of floating that first strikes me when riding the Métro. It runs on rubber tyres. The explanation for the choice of this technology differs. There are reports that it was the brainchild of strong-willed mayor, Jean Drapeau, who believed the new technology would showcase Montreal as a modern world-scale metropolis (Gilbert and Poitras). However, John Martins-Manteiga provides a less romantic account, stating that the decision was made because tyres were cheaper (47). I assume the rubber tyres create the floating sensation. Add to this the famous warmth of the system (Magder; Hazan, Hot) and it has a thoroughly calming, even lulling, effect.Originally, I am planning to spend two whole days riding the Métro in its entirety. I make handwritten notes. On the first day, at mid-morning, nausea develops. I am suffering motion sickness. This is a surprise. I have always been fine to read and write on trains, unlike in a car or bus. It causes a moment of realisation. I am effectively riding a bus. This is an unexpected side-effect. My research program changes—I ride for a maximum of two hours at a time and my note taking becomes more circumspect. The train as actor is influencing the research program and the data being recorded in unexpected ways. ArtThe stained-glass collage at Berri-Uquam, by Pierre Gaboriau and Pierre Osterrath, is grand in scale, intricately detailed and beautiful. It sits above the tunnel from which the trains enter and leave the platform. It somehow seems wholly connected to the train as a result—it frames and announces arrivals and departures. Other striking pieces include the colourful, tiled circles from the mezzanine above the platform at station Peel and the beautiful stained-glass panels on the escalator at station Charlevoix. As a public respondent visiting from Chicago contends, “I just got a sense of exploration—that I wanted to have a look around”.Urban FormAn urban planner asserts that the Métro is responsible for the identity and diversity of urban culture that Montreal is famous for. As everyone cannot live right above a Métro station, there are streets around stations where people walk to the train. As there is less need for cars, these streets are made friendlier for walkers, precipitating a cycle. Furthermore, pedestrian-friendly streets promote local village style commerce such as shops, cafes, bars, and restaurants. So, there is not only more access on foot, but also more incentive to access. The walking that the Métro induces improves the dynamism and social aspects of neighbourhoods, a by-product of which is a distinct urban form and culture for different pockets of the city. The actor-network broadens. In following the actors, I now have to wander beyond the physical limits of the system itself. The streets I walk around station Mont Royal are shopping and restaurant strips, rich with foot traffic at all times of day; it is a vibrant and enticing place to wander.Find DiningThe popular MTL blog published a map of the best restaurants the Métro provides access to (Hazan, Restaurant).ArchitectureStation De La Savane resembles a retro medieval dungeon. It evokes thoughts of the television series Game of Thrones. Art and architecture work in perfect harmony. The sculpture in the foyer by Maurice Lemieux resembles a deconstructed metal mace hanging on a brutalist concrete wall. It towers above a grand staircase and abuts a fence that might ring a medieval keep. Up close I realise it is polished, precisely cut cylindrical steel. A modern fence referencing another time and place. Descending to the platform, craggy concrete walls are pitted with holes. I get the sense of peering through these into the hidden chambers of a crypt. Overlaying all of this is a strikingly modern series of regular and irregular, bold vertical striations cut deeply into the concrete. They run from floor to ceiling to add to a cathedral-like sense of scale. It’s warming to think that such a whimsical train station exists anywhere in the world. Time WarpA public respondent describes the Métro:It’s a little bit like a time machine. It’s a piece of the past and piece of history […] still alive now. I think that it brings art or form or beauty into everyday life. […] You’re going from one place to the next, but because of the history and the story of it you could stop and breathe and take it in a little bit more.Hold ups and HostagesA frustrated General Manager of a transport advocacy group states in an interview:Two minutes of stopping in the Métro is like Armageddon in Montreal—you see it on every media, on every smartphone [...] We are so captive in the Métro [there is a] loss of control.Further, a transport modelling expert asserts:You’re a hostage when you’re in transportation. If the Métro goes out, then you really are stuck. Unfortunately, it does go out often enough. If you lose faith in a mode of transportation, it’s going to be very hard to get you back.CommutingIt took me a good week before I started to notice how tired some of the Métro stations had grown. I felt my enthusiasm dip when I saw the estimated arrival time lengthen on the electronic noticeboard. Anger rose as a young man pushed past me from behind to get out of a train before I had a chance to exit. These tendrils of the actor-network were not evident to me in the first few days. Most interview respondents state that after a period of time passengers take less notice of the interesting and artistic aspects of the Métro. They become commuters. Timeliness and consistency become the most important aspects of the system.FinaleI deliberately visit station Champ-de-Mars last. Photos convince me that I am going to end my Métro exploration with an experience to savour. The station entry and gallery is iconic. Martins-Manteiga writes, “The stained-glass artwork by Marcelle Ferron is almost a religious experience; it floods in and splashes down below” (306). My timing is off though. On this day, the soaring stained-glass windows are mostly hidden behind protective wadding. The station is undergoing restoration. Travelling for the last time back towards station Mont Royal, my mood lightens. Although I had been anticipating this station for some time, in many respects this is a revealing conclusion to my Métro wanderings.What Do You Do?When asked what the train does, many respondents took a while to answer or began with common tropes around moving people. As a transport project manager asserts, “in the world of public transport, the perfect trip is the one you don’t notice”. A journalist gives the most considered and interesting answer. He contends:I think it would say, “I hold the city together culturally, economically, physically, logistically—that’s what I do […] I’m the connective tissue of this city”. […] How else do you describe infrastructure that connects poor neighbourhoods to rich neighbourhoods, downtown to outlying areas, that supports all sorts of businesses both inside it and immediately adjacent to it and has created these axes around the city that pull in almost everybody [...] And of course, everyone takes it for granted […] We get pissed off when it’s late.ConclusionNo matter how real a transportation system may be, it can always be made a little less real. Today, for example, the Paris metro is on strike for the third week in a row. Millions of Parisians are learning to get along without it, by taking their cars or walking […] You see? These enormous hundred-year-old technological monsters are no more real than the four-year-old Aramis is unreal: They all need allies, friends […] There’s no inertia, no irreversibility; there’s no autonomy to keep them alive. (Latour, Aramis 86)Through ANT-based physical and metaphorical wanderings, we find many pathways that illuminate what a train does. We learn from various actors in the actor-network through which the train exists. We seek out its “allies” and “friends”. We wander, piecing together as much of the network as we can. The Métro does lots of things. It has many influences and it influences many. It is undeniably an actor in an actor-network. Transport planners would like it to appear seamless—commuters entering and leaving without really noticing the in-between. And sometimes it appears this way. However, when the commuter is delayed, this appearance is shattered. If a signal fails or an engine falters, the Métro, through a process mediated by word of mouth and/or social and mainstream media, is suddenly rendered tired and obsolete. Or is it historic and quaint? Is the train a technical problem for the city of Montreal or is it characterful and integral to the city’s identity? It is all these things and many more. The actor-network is illusive and elusive. Pathways are extensive. The train floats. The train is late. The train makes us walk. The train has seeded many unique villages, much loved. The train is broken. The train is healthy for its age. The train is all that is right with Montreal. The train is all that is wrong with Montreal. The artwork and architecture mean nothing. The artwork and architecture mean everything. Is the train overly limited by the tyres that keep it underground? Of course, it is. Of course, it isn’t. Does 50 years of history matter? Of course, it does. Of course, it doesn’t. It thrives. It’s tired. It connects. It divides. It’s functional. It’s dirty. It’s beautiful. It’s something to be proud of. It’s embarrassing. A train offers many complex and fascinating pathways. It is never simply an object; it lives and breathes in the network because we live and breathe around it. It stops being effective. It starts becoming affective. Sydney must learn from this. My wanderings demonstrate that the Métro cannot be extricated from what Montreal has become over the last half century. In May 2019, Sydney finally opened its first Metro rail link. And yet, this link and other ongoing metro projects continue to be discussed through statistics and practicalities (Sydney Metro). This offers no affective sense of the pathways that are, and will one day be, created. By selecting and appropriating relevant pathways from cities such as Montreal, and through our own wanderings and imaginings, we can make projections of what a train will do for a city like Sydney. We can project a rich and vibrant actor-network through the media in more emotive and powerful ways. Or, can we not at least supplement the economic, functional, or technocratic accounts with other wanderings? Of course, we can’t. Of course, we can. 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IntroductionThe walking tour is an enduring feature of cities. Fuelled by a desire to learn more about the hidden and unknown spaces of the city, the walking tour has moved beyond its historical role as tourist attraction to play a key role in the transformation of urban space through gentrification. Conversely, the walking tour has a counter-history as part of a critical urban praxis. This article reflects on historical examples, as well as our own experience of conducting Field Trip, a critical geographical walking tour through an industrial precinct in Marrickville, a suburb of Sydney that is set to undergo rapid change as a result of high-rise residential apartment construction (Gibson et al.). This precinct, known as Carrington Road, is located on the unceded land of the Cadigal and Wangal people of the Eora nation who call the area Bulanaming.Drawing on a long history of philosophical walking, many contemporary writers (Solnit; Gros; Bendiner-Viani) have described walking as a practice that can open different ways of thinking, observing and being in the world. Some have focused on the value of walking to the study of place (Hall; Philips; Heddon), and have underscored its relationship to established research methods, such as sensory ethnography (Springgay and Truman). The work of Michel de Certeau pays particular attention to the relationship between walking and the city. In particular, the concepts of tactics and strategy have been applied in a variety of ways across cultural studies, cultural geography, and urban studies (Morris). In line with de Certeau’s thinking, we view walking as an example of a tactic – a routine and often unconscious practice that can become a form of creative resistance.In this sense, walking can be a way to engage in and design the city by opposing its structures, or strategies. For example, walking in a city such as Sydney that is designed for cars requires choosing alternative paths, redirecting flows of people and traffic, and creating custom shortcuts. Choosing pedestrianism in Sydney can certainly feel like a form of resistance, and we make the argument that Field Trip – and walking tours more generally – can be a way of doing this collectively, firstly by moving in opposite directions, and secondly, at incongruent speeds to those for whom the scale and style of strategic urban development is inevitable. How such tactical walking relates to the design of cities, however, is less clear. Walking is a generally described in the literature as an individual act, while the design of cities is, at its best participatory, and always involving multiple stakeholders. This reveals a tension between the practice of walking as a détournement or appropriation of urban space, and its relationship to existing built form. Field Trip, as an example of collective walking, is one such appropriation of urban space – one designed to lead to more democratic decision making around the planning and design of cities. Given the anti-democratic, “post-political” nature of contemporary “consultation” processes, this is a seemingly huge task (Legacy et al.; Ruming). We make the argument that Field Trip – and walking tours more generally – can be a form of collective resistance to top-down urban planning.By using an open-source wiki in combination with the Internet Archive, Field Trip also seeks to collectively document and make public the local knowledge generated by walking at the frontier of gentrification. We discuss these digital choices as oppositional practice, and consider the idea of tactical media (Lovink and Garcia; Raley) in order to connect knowledge sharing with the practice of walking.This article is structured in four parts. Firstly, we provide a historical introduction to the relationship between walking tours and gentrification of global cities. Secondly, we examine the significance of walking tours in Sydney and then specifically within Marrickville. Thirdly, we discuss the Field Trip project as a citizen-led walking tour and, finally, elaborate on its role as tactical media project and offer some conclusions.The Walking Tour and Gentrification From the outset, people have been walking the city in their own ways and creating their own systems of navigation, often in spite of the plans of officialdom. The rapid expansion of cities following the Industrial Revolution led to the emergence of “imaginative geographies”, where mediated representations of different urban conditions became a stand-in for lived experience (Steinbrink 219). The urban walking tour as mediated political tactic was utilised as far back as Victorian England, for reasons including the celebration of public works like the sewer system (Garrett), and the “othering” of the working class through upper- and middle-class “slum tourism” in London’s East End (Steinbrink 220). The influence of the Situationist theory of dérive has been immense upon those interested in walking the city, and we borrow from the dérive a desire to report on the under-reported spaces of the city, and to articulate alternative voices within the city in this project. It should be noted, however, that as Field Trip was developed for general public participation, and was organised with institutional support, some aspects of the dérive – particularly its disregard for formal structure – were unable to be incorporated into the project. Our responsibility to the participants of Field Trip, moreover, required the imposition of structure and timetable upon the walk. However, our individual and collective preparation for Field Trip, as well as our collective understanding of the area to be examined, has been heavily informed by psychogeographic methods that focus on quotidian and informal urban practices (Crosby and Searle; Iveson et al).In post-war American cities, walking tours were utilised in the service of gentrification. Many tours were organised by real estate agents with the express purpose of selling devalorised inner-city real estate to urban “pioneers” for renovation, including in Boston’s South End (Tissot) and Brooklyn’s Park Slope, among others (Lees et al 25). These tours focused on a symbolic revalorisation of “slum neighbourhoods” through a focus on “high culture”, with architectural and design heritage featuring prominently. At the same time, urban socio-economic and cultural issues – poverty, homelessness, income disparity, displacement – were downplayed or overlooked. These tours contributed to a climate in which property speculation and displacement through gentrification practices were normalised. To this day, “ghetto tours” operate in minority neighbourhoods in Brooklyn, serving as a beachhead for gentrification.Elsewhere in the world, walking tours are often voyeuristic, featuring “locals” guiding well-meaning tourists through the neighbourhoods of some of the world’s most impoverished communities. Examples include the long runningKlong Toei Private Tour, through “Bangkok’s oldest and largest slum”, or the now-ceased Jakarta Hidden Tours, which took tourists to the riverbanks of Jakarta to see the city’s poorest before they were displaced by gentrification.More recently, all over the world activists have engaged in walking tours to provide their own perspective on urban change, attempting to direct the gentrifier’s gaze inward. Whilst the most confrontational of these might be the Yuppie Gazing Tour of Vancouver’s historically marginalised Downtown Eastside, other tours have highlighted the deleterious effects of gentrification in Williamsburg, San Francisco, Oakland, and Surabaya, among others. In smaller towns, walking tours have been utilised to highlight the erasure of marginalised scenes and subcultures, including underground creative spaces, migrant enclaves, alternative and queer spaces. Walking Sydney, Walking Marrickville In many cities, there are now both walking tours that intend to scaffold urban renewal, and those that resist gentrification with alternative narratives. There are also some that unwittingly do both simultaneously. Marrickville is a historically working-class and migrant suburb with sizeable populations of Greek and Vietnamese migrants (Graham and Connell), as well as a strong history of manufacturing (Castles et al.), which has been undergoing gentrification for some time, with the arts playing an often contradictory role in its transformation (Gibson and Homan). More recently, as the suburb experiences rampant, financialised property development driven by global flows of capital, property developers have organised their own self-guided walking tours, deployed to facilitate the familiarisation of potential purchasers of dwellings with local amenities and ‘character’ in precincts where redevelopment is set to occur. Mirvac, Marrickville’s most active developer, has designed its own self-guided walking tour Hit the Marrickville Pavement to “explore what’s on offer” and “chat to locals”: just 7km from the CBD, Marrickville is fast becoming one of Sydney’s most iconic suburbs – a melting pot of cuisines, creative arts and characters founded on a rich multicultural heritage.The perfect introduction, this self-guided walking tour explores Marrickville’s historical architecture at a leisurely pace, finishing up at the pub.So, strap on your walking shoes; you're in for a treat.Other walking tours in the area seek to highlight political, ecological, and architectural dimension of Marrickville. For example, Marrickville Maps: Tropical Imaginaries of Abundance provides a series of plant-led walks in the suburb; The Warren Walk is a tour organised by local Australian Labor Party MP Anthony Albanese highlighting “the influence of early settlers such as the Schwebel family on the area’s history” whilst presenting a “political snapshot” of ALP history in the area. The Australian Ugliness, in contrast, was a walking tour organised by Thomas Lee in 2016 that offered an insight into the relationships between the visual amenity of the streetscape, aesthetic judgments of an ambiguous nature, and the discursive and archival potentialities afforded by camera-equipped smartphones and photo-sharing services like Instagram. Figure 1: Thomas Lee points out canals under the street of Marrickville during The Australian Ugliness, 2016.Sydney is a city adept at erasing its past through poorly designed mega-projects like freeways and office towers, and memorialisation of lost landscapes has tended towards the literary (Berry; Mudie). Resistance to redevelopment, however, has often taken the form of spectacular public intervention, in which public knowledge sharing was a key goal. The Green Bans of the 1970s were partially spurred by redevelopment plans for places like the Rocks and Woolloomooloo (Cook; Iveson), while the remaking of Sydney around the 2000 Olympics led to anti-gentrification actions such as SquatSpace and the Tour of Beauty, an “aesthetic activist” tour of sites in the suburbs of Redfern and Waterloo threatened with “revitalisation.” Figure 2: "Tour of Beauty", Redfern-Waterloo 2016. What marks the Tour of Beauty as significant in this context is the participatory nature of knowledge production: participants in the tours were addressed by representatives of the local community – the Aboriginal Housing Company, the local Indigenous Women’s Centre, REDWatch activist group, architects, designers and more. Each speaker presented their perspective on the rapidly gentrifying suburb, demonstrating how urban space is made an remade through processes of contestation. This differentiation is particularly relevant when considering the basis for Sydney-centric walking tours. Mirvac’s self-guided tour focuses on the easy-to-see historical “high culture” of Marrickville, and encourages participants to “chat to locals” at the pub. It is a highly filtered approach that does not consider broader relations of class, race and gender that constitute Marrickville. A more intense exploration of the social fabric of the city – providing a glimpse of the hidden or unknown spaces – uncovers the layers of social, cultural, and economic history that produce urban space, and fosters a deeper engagement with questions of urban socio-spatial justice.Solnit argues that walking can allow us to encounter “new thoughts and possibilities.” To walk, she writes, is to take a “subversive detour… the scenic route through a half-abandoned landscape of ideas and experiences” (13). In this way, tactical activist walking tours aim to make visible what cannot be seen, in a way that considers the polysemic nature of place, and in doing so, they make visible the hidden relations of power that produce the contemporary city. In contrast, developer-led walking tours are singularly focussed, seeking to attract inflows of capital to neighbourhoods undergoing “renewal.” These tours encourage participants to adopt the position of urban voyeur, whilst activist-led walking tours encourage collaboration and participation in urban struggles to protect and preserve the contested spaces of the city. It is in this context that we sought to devise our own walking tour – Field Trip – to encourage active participation in issues of urban renewal.In organising this walking tour, however, we acknowledge our own entanglements within processes of gentrification. As designers, musicians, writers, academics, researchers, venue managers, artists, and activists, in organising Field Trip, we could easily be identified as “creatives”, implicated in Marrickville’s ongoing transformation. All of us have ongoing and deep-rooted connections to various Sydney subcultures – the same subcultures so routinely splashed across developer advertising material. This project was borne out of Frontyard – a community not-just-art space, and has been supported by the local Inner West Council. As such, Field Trip cannot be divorced from the highly contentious processes of redevelopment and gentrification that are always simmering in the background of discussions about Marrickville. We hope, however, that in this project we have started to highlight alternative voices in those redevelopment processes – and that this may contribute towards a “method of equality” for an ongoing democratisation of those processes (Davidson and Iveson).Field Trip: Urban Geographical Enquiry as Activism Given this context, Field Trip was designed as a public knowledge project that would connect local residents, workers, researchers, and decision-makers to share their experiences living and working in various parts of Sydney that are undergoing rapid change. The site of our project – Carrington Road, Marrickville in Sydney’s inner-west – has been earmarked for major redevelopment in coming years and is quickly becoming a flashpoint for the debates that permeate throughout the whole of Sydney: housing affordability, employment accessibility, gentrification and displacement. To date, public engagement and consultation regarding proposed development at Carrington Road has been limited. A major landholder in the area has engaged a consultancy firm to establish a community reference group (CRG) the help guide the project. The CRG arose after public outcry at an original $1.3 billion proposal to build 2,616 units in twenty towers of up to 105m in height (up to thirty-five storeys) in a predominantly low-rise residential suburb. Save Marrickville, a community group created in response to the proposal, has representatives on this reference group, and has endeavoured to make this process public. Ruming (181) has described these forms of consultation as “post-political,” stating thatin a universe of consensual decision-making among diverse interests, spaces for democratic contest and antagonistic politics are downplayed and technocratic policy development is deployed to support market and development outcomes.Given the notable deficit of spaces for democratic contest, Field Trip was devised as a way to reframe the debate outside of State- and developer-led consultation regimes that guide participants towards accepting the supposed inevitability of redevelopment. We invited a number of people affected by the proposed plans to speak during the walking tour at a location of their choosing, to discuss the work they do, the effect that redevelopment would have on their work, and their hopes and plans for the future. The walking tour was advertised publicly and the talks were recorded, edited and released as freely available podcasts. The proposed redevelopment of Carrington Road provided us with a unique opportunity to develop and operate our own walking tour. The linear street created an obvious “circuit” to the tour – up one side of the road, and down the other. We selected speakers based on pre-existing relationships, some formed during prior rounds of research (Gibson et al.). Speakers included a local Aboriginal elder, a representative from the Marrickville Historical Society, two workers (who also gave tours of their workplaces), the Lead Heritage Adviser at Sydney Water, who gave us a tour of the Carrington Road pumping station, and a representative from the Save Marrickville residents’ group. Whilst this provided a number of perspectives on the day, regrettably some groups were unrepresented, most notably the perspective of migrant groups who have a long-standing association with industrial precincts in Marrickville. It is hoped that further community input and collaboration in future iterations of Field Trip will address these issues of representation in community-led walking tours.A number of new understandings became apparent during the walking tour. For instance, the heritage-listed Carrington Road sewage pumping station, which is of “historic and aesthetic significance”, is unable to cope with the proposed level of residential development. According to Philip Bennett, Lead Heritage Adviser at Sydney Water, the best way to maintain this piece of heritage infrastructure is to keep it running. While this issue had been discussed in private meetings between Sydney Water and the developer, there is no formal mechanism to make this expert knowledge public or accessible. Similarly, through the Acknowledgement of Country for Field Trip, undertaken by Donna Ingram, Cultural Representative and a member of the Metropolitan Local Aboriginal Land Council, it became clear that the local Indigenous community had not been consulted in the development proposals for Carrington Road. This information, while not necessary secret, had also not been made public. Finally, the inclusion of knowledgeable local workers whose businesses are located on Carrington Road provided an insight into the “everyday.” They talked of community and collaboration, of site-specificity, the importance of clustering within their niche industries, and their fears for of displacement should redevelopment proceed.Via a community-led, participatory walking tour like Field Trip, threads of knowledge and new information are uncovered. These help create new spatial stories and readings of the landscape, broadening the scope of possibility for democratic participation in cities. Figure 3: Donna Ingram at Field Trip 2018.Tactical Walking, Tactical Media Stories connected to walking provide an opportunity for people to read the landscape differently (Mitchell). One of the goals of Field Trip was to begin a public knowledge exchange about Carrington Road so that spatial stories could be shared, and new readings of urban development could spread beyond the confines of the self-contained tour. Once shared, this knowledge becomes a story, and once remixed into existing stories and integrated into the way we understand the neighbourhood, a collective spatial practice is generated. “Every story is a travel story – a spatial practice”, says de Certeau in “Spatial Stories”. “In reality, they organise walks” (72). As well as taking a tactical approach to walking, we took a tactical approach to the mediation of the knowledge, by recording and broadcasting the voices on the walk and feeding information to a publicly accessible wiki. The term “tactical media” is an extension of de Certeau’s concept of tactics. David Garcia and Geert Lovink applied de Certeau’s concept of tactics to the field of media activism in their manifesto of tactical media, identifying a class of producers who amplify temporary reversals in the flow of power by exploiting the spaces, channels and platforms necessary for their practices. Tactical media has been used since the late nineties to help explain a range of open-source practices that appropriate technological tools for political purposes. While pointing out the many material distinctions between different types of tactical media projects within the arts, Rita Raley describes them as “forms of critical intervention, dissent and resistance” (6). The term has also been adopted by media activists engaged in a range of practices all over the world, including the Tactical Technology Collective. For Field Trip, tactical media is a way of creating representations that help navigate neighbourhoods as well as alternative political processes that shape them. In this sense, tactical representations do not “offer the omniscient point of view we associate with Cartesian cartographic practice” (Raley 2). Rather these representations are politically subjective systems of navigation that make visible hidden information and connect people to the decisions affecting their lives. Conclusion We have shown that the walking tour can be a tourist attraction, a catalyst to the transformation of urban space through gentrification, and an activist intervention into processes of urban renewal that exclude people and alternative ways of being in the city. This article presents practice-led research through the design of Field Trip. By walking collectively, we have focused on tactical ways of opening up participation in the future of neighbourhoods, and more broadly in designing the city. 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If the home is traditionally considered to be a space of safety associated with the warm and cosy feeling of the familial hearth, it is also continuously portrayed as a space under threat from the outside from which we must secure ourselves and our families. Securing the home entails a series of material, discursive and performative strategies, a host of precautionary measures aimed at regulating and ultimately producing security. When I was eleven my family returned home from the local fruit markets to find our house had been ransacked. Clothes were strewn across the floor, electrical appliances were missing and my parents’ collection of jewellery – wedding rings and heirlooms – had been stolen. Few things remained untouched and the very thought of someone else’s hands going through our personal belongings made our home feel tainted. My parents were understandably distraught. As Filipino immigrants to Australia the heirlooms were not only expensive assets from both sides of my family, but also signifiers of our homeland. Added to their despair was the fact that this was our first house – we had rented prior to that. During the police interviews, we discovered that our area, Sydney’s Western suburbs, was considered ‘high-risk’ and we were advised to install security. In their panic my parents began securing their home. Grills were installed on every window. Each external wooden door was reinforced by a metal security door. Movement detectors were installed at the front of the house, which were set to blind intruders with floodlights. Even if an intruder could enter the back through a window a metal grill security door was waiting between the backroom and the kitchen to stop them from getting to our bedrooms. In short, through a series of transformations our house was made into a residential fortress. Yet home security had its own dangers. A series of rules and regulations were drilled into me ‘in case of an emergency’: know where your keys are in case of a fire so that you can get out; remember the phone numbers for an emergency and the work numbers of your parents; never let a stranger into the house; and if you need to speak to a stranger only open the inside door but leave the security screen locked. Thus, for my Filipino-migrant family in the 1990s, a whole series of defensive behaviours and preventative strategies were produced and disseminated inside and around the home to regulate security risks. Such “local knowledges” were used to reinforce the architectural manifestations of security at the same time that they were a response to the invasion of security systems into our house that created a new set of potential dangers. This article highlights “the interplay of material and symbolic geographies of home” (Blunt and Varley 4), focusing on the relation between urban fears circulating around and within the home and the spatial practices used to negotiate such fears. In exploring home security systems it extends the exemplary analysis of home technologies already begun in Lynn Spigel’s reading of the ‘smart home’ (381-408). In a similar vein, David Morley’s analysis of mediated domesticity shows how communications technology has reconfigured the inside and outside to the extent that television actually challenges the physical boundary that “protects the privacy and solidarity of the home from the flux and threat of the outside world” (87). Television here serves as a passage in which the threat of the outside is reframed as news or entertainment for family viewing. I take this as a point of departure to consider the ways that this mediated fear unfolds in the technology of our homes. Following Brian Massumi, I read the home as “a node in a circulatory network of many dimensions (each corresponding to a technology of transmission)” (85). For Massumi, the home is an event-space at the crossroads of media technologies and political technologies. “In spite of the locks on the door, the event-space of the home must be seen as one characterized by a very loose regime of passage” (85). The ‘locked door’ is not only a boundary marker that defines the inside from the outside but another technology that leads us outside the home into other domains of inquiry: the proliferation of security technologies and the mundane, fearful intimacies of the home. In this context, we should heed Iris Marion Young’s injunction to feminist critics that the home does provide some positives including a sense of privacy and the space to build relationships and identities. Yet, as Colomina argues, the traditional domestic ideal “can only be produced by engaging the home in combat” (20). If, as Colomina’s comment suggests, ontological security is at least partially dependent on physical security, then this article explores the ontological effects of our home security systems. Houses at War: Targeting the Family As Beatriz Colomina reminds us, in times of war we leave our homelands to do battle on the front line, but battle lines are also being drawn in our homes. Drawing inspiration from Virilio’s claim that contemporary war takes place without fighting, Colomina’s article ‘Domesticity at War’ contemplates the domestic interior as a “battlefield” (15). The house, she writes, is “a mechanism within a war where the differences between defense [sic] and attack have become blurred” (17). According to the Home Security Precautions, New South Wales, October 1999 report conducted by the Australian Bureau of Statistics, 47% of NSW dwellings were ‘secure’ (meaning that they either had a burglar alarm, or all entry points were secured or they were inside a security block) while only 9% of NSW households had no home security devices present (Smith 3). In a similar report for Western Australia conducted in October 2004, an estimated 71% of WA households had window security of some sort (screens, locks or shutters) while 67% had deadlocks on at least one external door (4). An estimated 27% had a security alarm installed while almost half (49%) had sensor lights (Hubbard 4-5). This growing sense of insecurity means big business for those selling security products and services. By the end of June 1999, there were 1,714 businesses in Australia’s security services industry generating $1,395 million of income during 1998-99 financial year (McLennan 3; see also Macken). This survey did not include locksmith services or the companies dealing with alarm manufacturing, wholesaling or installing. While Colomina’s article focuses on the “war with weather” and the attempts to control environmental conditions inside the home through what she calls “counterdomesticity” (20), her conceptualisation of the house as a “military weapon” (17) provides a useful tool for thinking the relation between the home, architecture and security. Conceiving of the house as a military weapon might seem like a stretch, but we should recall that the rhetoric of war has already leaked into the everyday. One hears of the ‘war on drugs’ and the ‘war on crime’ in the media. ‘War’ is the everyday condition of our urban jungles (see also Diken and Lausten) and in order to survive, let alone feel secure, one must be able to defend one’s family and home. Take, for example, Signal Security’s website. One finds a panel on the left-hand side of the screen to all webpages devoted to “Residential Products”. Two circular images are used in the panel with one photograph overlapping the other. In the top circle, a white nuclear family (stereotypical mum, dad and two kids), dressed in pristine white clothing bare their white teeth to the internet surfer. Underneath this photo is another photograph in which an arm clad in a black leather jacket emerges through a smashed window. In the foreground a black-gloved hand manipulates a lock, while a black balaclava masks an unrecognisable face through the broken glass. The effect of their proximity produces a violent juxtaposition in which the burglar visually intrudes on the family’s domestic bliss. The panel stages a struggle between white and black, good and bad, family and individual, security and insecurity, recognisability and unidentifiability. It thus codifies the loving, knowable family as the domestic space of security against the selfish, unidentifiable intruder (presumed not to have a family) as the primary reason for insecurity in the family home – and no doubt to inspire the consumption of security products. Advertisements of security products thus articulate the family home as a fragile innocence constantly vulnerable from the outside. From a feminist perspective, this image of the family goes against the findings of the National Homicide Monitoring Program, which shows that 57% of the women killed in Australia between 2004 and 2005 were killed by an intimate partner while 17% were killed by a family member (Mouzos and Houliaras 20). If, on the one hand, the family home is targeted by criminals, on the other, it has emerged as a primary site for security advertising eager to exploit the growing sense of insecurity – the family as a target market. The military concepts of ‘target’ and ‘targeting’ have shifted into the benign discourse of strategic advertising. As Dora Epstein writes, “We arm our buildings to arm ourselves from the intrusion of a public fluidity, and thus our buildings, our architectures of fortification, send a very clear message: ‘avoid this place or protect yourself’” (1997: 139). Epstein’s reference to ‘architectures of fortification’ reminds us that the desire to create security through the built environment has a long history. Nan Ellin has argued that fear’s physical manifestation can be found in the formation of towns from antiquity to the Renaissance. In this sense, towns and cities are always already a response to the fear of foreign invaders (Ellin 13; see also Diken and Lausten 291). This fear of the outsider is most obviously manifested in the creation of physical walls. Yet fortification is also an effect of spatial allusions produced by the configuration of space, as exemplified in Fiske, Hodge and Turner’s semiotic reading of a suburban Australian display home without a fence. While the lack of a fence might suggest openness, they suggest that the manicured lawn is flat so “that eyes can pass easily over it – and smooth – so that feet will not presume to” (30). Since the front garden is best viewed from the street it is clearly a message for the outside, but it also signifies “private property” (30). Space is both organised and lived, in such a way that it becomes a medium of communication to passers-by and would-be intruders. What emerges in this semiotic reading is a way of thinking about space as defensible, as organised in a way that space can begin to defend itself. The Problematic of Defensible Space The incorporation of military architecture into civil architecture is most evident in home security. By security I mean the material systems (from locks to electronic alarms) and precautionary practices (locking the door) used to protect spaces, both of which are enabled by a way of imagining space in terms of risk and vulnerability. I read Oscar Newman’s 1972 Defensible Space as outlining the problematic of spatial security. Indeed, it was around that period that the problematic of crime prevention through urban design received increasing attention in Western architectural discourse (see Jeffery). Newman’s book examines how spaces can be used to reinforce human control over residential environments, producing what he calls ‘defensible space.’ In Newman’s definition, defensible space is a model for residential environments which inhibits crime by creating the physical expression of a social fabric that defends itself. All the different elements which combine to make a defensible space have a common goal – an environment in which latent territoriality and sense of community in the inhabitants can be translated into responsibility for ensuring a safe, productive, and well-maintained living space (3). Through clever design space begins to defend itself. I read Newman’s book as presenting the contemporary problematic of spatialised security: how to structure space so as to increase control; how to organise architecture so as to foster territorialism; how to encourage territorial control through amplifying surveillance. The production of defensible space entails moving away from what he calls the ‘compositional approach’ to architecture, which sees buildings as separate from their environments, and the ‘organic approach’ to architecture, in which the building and its grounds are organically interrelated (Newman 60). In this approach Newman proposes a number of changes to space: firstly, spaces need to be multiplied (one no longer has a simple public/private binary, but also semi-private and semi-public spaces); secondly, these spaces must be hierarchised (moving from public to semi-public to semi-private to private); thirdly, within this hierarchy spaces can also be striated using symbolic or material boundaries between the different types of spaces. Furthermore, spaces must be designed to increase surveillance: use smaller corridors serving smaller sets of families (69-71); incorporate amenities in “defined zones of influence” (70); use L-shaped buildings as opposed to rectangles (84); use windows on the sides of buildings to reveal the fire escape from outside (90). As he puts it, the subdivision of housing projects into “small, recognisable and comprehensible-at-a-glance enclaves is a further contributor to improving the visual surveillance mechanism” (1000). Finally, Newman lays out the principle of spatial juxtaposition: consider the building/street interface (positioning of doors and windows to maximise surveillance); consider building/building interface (e.g. build residential apartments next to ‘safer’ commercial, industrial, institutional and entertainment facilities) (109-12). In short, Newman’s book effectively redefines residential space in terms of territorial zones of control. Such zones of influence are the products of the interaction between architectural forms and environment, which are not reducible to the intent of the architect (68). Thus, in attempting to respond to the exigencies of the moment – the problem of urban crime, the cost of housing – Newman maps out residential space in what Foucault might have called a ‘micro-physics of power’. During the mid-1970s through to the 1980s a number of publications aimed at the average householder are printed in the UK and Australia. Apart from trade publishing (Bunting), The UK Design Council released two small publications (Barty, White and Burall; Design Council) while in Australia the Department of Housing and Construction released a home safety publication, which contained a small section on security, and the Australian Institute of Criminology published a small volume entitled Designing out Crime: Crime prevention through environmental design (Geason and Wilson). While Newman emphasised the responsibility of architects and urban planners, in these publications the general concerns of defensible space are relocated in the ‘average homeowner’. Citing crime statistics on burglary and vandalism, these publications incite their readers to take action, turning the homeowner into a citizen-soldier. The householder, whether he likes it or not, is already in a struggle. The urban jungle must be understood in terms of “the principles of warfare” (Bunting 7), in which everyday homes become bodies needing protection through suitable architectural armour. Through a series of maps and drawings and statistics, the average residential home is transformed into a series of points of vulnerability. Home space is re-inscribed as a series of points of entry/access and lines of sight. Simultaneously, through lists of ‘dos and don’ts’ a set of precautionary behaviours is inculcated into the readers. Principles of security begin codifying the home space, disciplining the spatial practices of the intimate, regulating the access and mobility of the family and guests. The Architectural Nervous System Nowadays we see a wild, almost excessive, proliferation of security products available to the ‘security conscious homeowner’. We are no longer simply dealing with security devices designed to block – such as locks, bolts and fasteners. The electronic revolution has aided the production of security devices that are increasingly more specialised and more difficult to manipulate, which paradoxically makes it more difficult for the security consumer to understand. Detection systems now include continuous wiring, knock-out bars, vibration detectors, breaking glass detectors, pressure mats, underground pressure detectors and fibre optic signalling. Audible alarm systems have been upgraded to wire-free intruder alarms, visual alarms, telephone warning devices, access control and closed circuit television and are supported by uninterruptible power supplies and control panels (see Chartered Institution of Building Service Engineers 19-39). The whole house is literally re-routed as a series of relays in an electronic grid. If the house as a security risk is defined in terms of points of vulnerability, alarm systems take these points as potential points of contact. Relays running through floors, doors and windows can be triggered by pressure, sound or dislocation. We see a proliferation of sensors: switching sensors, infra-red sensors, ultrasonic sensors, microwave radar sensors, microwave fence sensors and microphonic sensors (see Walker). The increasing diversification of security products attests to the sheer scale of these architectural/engineering changes to our everyday architecture. In our fear of crime we have produced increasingly more complex security products for the home, thus complexifying the spaces we somehow inherently feel should be ‘simple’. I suggest that whereas previous devices merely reinforced certain architectural or engineering aspects of the home, contemporary security products actually constitute the home as a feeling, architectural body capable of being affected. This recalls notions of a sensuous architecture and bodily metaphors within architectural discourse (see Thomsen; Puglini). It is not simply our fears that lead us to secure our homes through technology, but through our fears we come to invest our housing architecture with a nervous system capable of fearing for itself. Our eyes and ears become detection systems while our screams are echoed in building alarms. Body organs are deterritorialised from the human body and reterritorialised on contemporary residential architecture, while our senses are extended through modern security technologies. The vulnerable body of the family home has become a feeling body conscious of its own vulnerability. It is less about the physical expression of fear, as Nan Ellin has put it, than about how building materialities become capable of fearing for themselves. What we have now are residential houses that are capable of being more fully mobilised in this urban war. Family homes become bodies that scan the darkness for the slightest movements, bodies that scream at the slightest possibility of danger. They are bodies that whisper to each other: a house can recognise an intrusion and relay a warning to a security station, informing security personnel without the occupants of that house knowing. They are the newly produced victims of an urban war. Our homes are the event-spaces in which mediated fear unfolds into an architectural nervous system. If media plug our homes into one set of relations between ideologies, representations and fear, then the architectural nervous system plugs that back into a different set of relations between capital, fear and the electronic grid. The home is less an endpoint of broadcast media than a node in an electronic network, a larger nervous system that encompasses the globe. It is a network that plugs architectural nervous systems into city electronic grids into mediated subjectivities into military technologies and back again, allowing fear to be disseminated and extended, replayed and spliced into the most banal aspects of our domestic lives. References Barty, Euan, David White, and Paul Burall. Safety and Security in the Home. London: The Design Council, 1980. Blunt, Alison, and Ann Varley. “Introduction: Geographies of Home.” Cultural Geographies 11.1 (2004): 3-6. Bunting, James. The Protection of Property against Crime. Folkestone: Bailey Brothers & Sinfen, 1975. Chartered Institution of Building Service Engineers. Security Engineering. London: CIBSE, 1991. Colomina, Beatriz. “Domesticity at War.” Assemblage 16 (1991): 14-41. Department of Housing and Construction. Safety in and around the Home. Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Service, 1981. Design Council. The Design Centre Guide to Domestic Safety and Security. London: Design Council, 1976. Diken, Bülent, and Carsten Bagge Lausten. “Zones of Indistinction: Security and Terror, and Bare Life.” Space and Culture 5.3 (2002): 290-307. Ellin, Nan. “Shelter from the Storm or Form Follows Fear and Vice Versa.” Architecture of Fear. Ed. Nan Ellin. New York: Princeton Architectural Press, 1997. Epstein, Dora. “Abject Terror: A Story of Fear, Sex, and Architecture.” Architecture of Fear. Ed. Nan Ellin. New York: Princeton Architectural Press, 1997. Fiske, John, Bob Hodge, and Graeme Turner. Myths of Oz: Reading Australian Popular Culture. Sydney: Allen & Unwin, 1987. Geason, Susan, and Paul Wilson. Designing Out Crime: Crime Prevention through Environmental Design. Canberra: Australian Institute of Criminology, 1989. Hubbard, Alan. Home Safety and Security, Western Australia. Canberra: Australian Bureau of Statistics, 2005. Jeffery, C. Ray. Crime Prevention through Environmental Design. Beverley Hills: Sage, 1971. Macken, Julie. “Why Aren’t We Happier?” Australian Financial Review 26 Nov. 1999: 26. Mallory, Keith, and Arvid Ottar. Architecture of Aggression: A History of Military Architecture in North West Europe, 1900-1945. Hampshire: Architectural Press, 1973. Massumi, Brian. Parables of the Virtual: Movement, Affect, Sensation. Durham: Duke University Press, 2002. McLennan, W. Security Services, Australia, 1998-99. Canberra: Australian Bureau of Statistics, 2000. Morley, David. Home Territories: Media, Mobility and Identity. London and New York: Routledge, 2000. Mouzos, Jenny, and Tina Houliaras. Homicide in Australia: 2004-05 National Homicide Monitoring Program (NHMP) Annual Report. Research and Public Policy Series 72. Canberra: Australian Institute of Criminology, 2006. Newman, Oscar. Defensible Space: Crime Prevention through Urban Design. New York: Collier, 1973. Puglini, Luigi. HyperArchitecture: Space in the Electronic Age. Basel: Bikhäuser, 1999. Signal Security. 13 January 2007 http://www.signalsecurity.com.au/securitysystems.htm>. Smith, Geoff. Home Security Precautions, New South Wales, October 1999. Canberra: Australian Bureau of Statistics, 2000. Spigel, Lynn. Welcome to the Dreamhouse: Popular Media and Postwar Suburbs. Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2001. Thomsen, Christian W. Sensuous Architecture: The Art of Erotic Building. Munich and New York: Prestel, 1998. Walker, Philip. Electronic Security Systems: Better Ways to Crime Prevention. London: Butterworths, 1983. Young, Iris Marion. “House and Home: Feminist Variations on a Theme.” Feminist Interpretations of Martin Heidegger. Eds. Nancy J. Holland and Patricia Huntington. University Park, Pennsylvania: Pennsylvania State UP, 2001. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Caluya, Gilbert. "The Architectural Nervous System: Home, Fear, Insecurity." M/C Journal 10.4 (2007). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0708/05-caluya.php>. APA Style Caluya, G. (Aug. 2007) "The Architectural Nervous System: Home, Fear, Insecurity," M/C Journal, 10(4). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0708/05-caluya.php>.

Permaculture is a creative design process that is based on ethics and design principles. It guides us to mimic the patterns and relationships we can find in nature and can be applied to all aspects of human habitation, from agriculture to ecological building, from appropriate technology to education and even economics. (permacultureprinciples.com)This paper considers permaculture as an example of counterculture in Australia. Permaculture is a neologism, the result of a contraction of ‘permanent’ and ‘agriculture’. In accordance with David Holmgren and Richard Telford definition quoted above, we intend permaculture as a design process based on a set of ethical and design principles. Rather than describing the history of permaculture, we choose two moments as paradigmatic of its evolution in relation to counterculture.The first moment is permaculture’s beginnings steeped in the same late 1960s turbulence that saw some people pursue an alternative lifestyle in Northern NSW and a rural idyll in Tasmania (Grayson and Payne). Ideas of a return to the land circulating in this first moment coalesced around the publication in 1978 of the book Permaculture One: A Perennial Agriculture for Human Settlements by Bill Mollison and David Holmgren, which functioned as “a disruptive technology, an idea that threatened to disrupt business as usual, to change the way we thought and did things”, as Russ Grayson writes in his contextual history of permaculture. The second moment is best exemplified by the definitions of permaculture as “a holistic system of design … most often applied to basic human needs such as water, food and shelter … also used to design more abstract systems such as community and economic structures” (Milkwood) and as “also a world wide network and movement of individuals and groups working in both rich and poor countries on all continents” (Holmgren).We argue that the shift in understanding of permaculture from the “back to the land movement” (Grayson) as a more wholesome alternative to consumer society to the contemporary conceptualisation of permaculture as an assemblage and global network of practices, is representative of the shifting dynamic between dominant paradigms and counterculture from the 1970s to the present. While counterculture was a useful way to understand the agency of subcultures (i.e. by countering mainstream culture and society) contemporary forms of globalised capitalism demand different models and vocabularies within which the idea of “counter” as clear cut alternative becomes an awkward fit.On the contrary we see the emergence of a repertoire of practices aimed at small-scale, localised solutions connected in transnational networks (Pink 105). These practices operate contrapuntally, a concept we borrow from Edward Said’s Culture and Imperialism (1993), to define how divergent practices play off each other while remaining at the edge, but still in a relation of interdependence with a dominant paradigm. In Said’s terms “contrapuntal reading” reveals what is left at the periphery of a mainstream narrative, but is at the same time instrumental to the development of events in the narrative itself. To illustrate this concept Said makes the case of novels where colonial plantations at the edge of the Empire make possible a certain lifestyle in England, but don’t appear in the narrative of that lifestyle itself (66-67).In keeping with permaculture design ecological principles, we argue that today permaculture is best understood as part of an assemblage of design objects, bacteria, economies, humans, plants, technologies, actions, theories, mushrooms, policies, affects, desires, animals, business, material and immaterial labour and politics and that it can be read as contrapuntal rather than as oppositional practice. Contrapuntal insofar as it is not directly oppositional preferring to reframe and reorientate everyday practices. The paper is structured in three parts: in the first one we frame our argument by providing a background to our understanding of counterculture and assemblage; in the second we introduce the beginning of permaculture in its historical context, and in third we propose to consider permaculture as an assemblage.Background: Counterculture and Assemblage We do not have the scope in this article to engage with contested definitions of counterculture in the Australian context, or their relation to contraculture or subculture. There is an emerging literature (Stickells, Robinson) touched on elsewhere in this issue. In this paper we view counterculture as social movements that “undermine societal hierarchies which structure urban life and create, instead a city organised on the basis of values such as action, local cultures, and decentred, participatory democracy” (Castells 19-20). Our focus on cities demonstrates the ways counterculture has shifted away from oppositional protest and towards ways of living sustainably in an increasingly urbanised world.Permaculture resonates with Castells’s definition and with other forms of protest, or what Musgrove calls “the dialectics of utopia” (16), a dynamic tension of political activism (resistance) and personal growth (aesthetics and play) that characterised ‘counterculture’ in the 1970s. McKay offers a similar view when he says such acts of counterculture are capable of “both a utopian gesture and a practical display of resistance” (27). But as a design practice, permaculture goes beyond the spectacle of protest.In this sense permaculture can be understood as an everyday act of resistance: “The design act is not a boycott, strike, protest, demonstration, or some other political act, but lends its power of resistance from being precisely a designerly way of intervening into people’s lives” (Markussen 38). We view permaculture design as a form of design activism that is embedded in everyday life. It is a process that aims to reorient a practice not by disrupting it but by becoming part of it.Guy Julier cites permaculture, along with the appropriate technology movement and community architecture, as one of many examples of radical thinking in design that emerged in the 1970s (225). This alignment of permaculture as a design practice that is connected to counterculture in an assemblage, but not entirely defined by it, is important in understanding the endurance of permaculture as a form of activism.In refuting the common and generalized narrative of failure that is used to describe the sixties (and can be extended to the seventies), Julie Stephens raises the many ways that the dominant ethos of the time was “revolutionised by the radicalism of the period, but in ways that bore little resemblance to the announced intentions of activists and participants themselves” (121). Further, she argues that the “extraordinary and paradoxical aspects of the anti-disciplinary protest of the period were that while it worked to collapse the division between opposition and complicity and problematised received understandings of the political, at the same time it reaffirmed its commitment to political involvement as an emancipatory, collective endeavour” (126).Many foresaw the political challenge of counterculture. From the belly of the beast, in 1975, Craig McGregor wrote that countercultures are “a crucial part of conventional society; and eventually they will be judged on how successful they transform it” (43). In arguing that permaculture is an assemblage and global network of practices, we contribute to a description of the shifting dynamic between dominant paradigms and counterculture that was identified by McGregor at the time and Stephens retrospectively, and we open up possibilities for reexamining an important moment in the history of Australian protest movements.Permaculture: Historical Context Together with practical manuals and theoretical texts permaculture has produced its foundation myths, centred around two father figures, Bill Mollison and David Holmgren. The pair, we read in accounts on the history of permaculture, met in the 1970s in Hobart at the University of Tasmania, where Mollison, after a polymath career, was a senior lecturer in Environmental Psychology, and Holmgren a student. Together they wrote the first article on permaculture in 1976 for the Organic Farmer and Gardener magazine (Grayson and Payne), which together with the dissemination of ideas via radio, captured the social imagination of the time. Two years later Holmgren and Mollison published the book Permaculture One: A Perennial Agricultural System for Human Settlements (Mollison and Holmgren).These texts and Mollison’s talks articulated ideas and desires and most importantly proposed solutions about living on the land, and led to the creation of the first ecovillage in Australia, Max Lindegger’s Crystal Waters in South East Queensland, the first permaculture magazine (titled Permaculture), and the beginning of the permaculture network (Grayson and Payne). In 1979 Mollison taught the first permaculture course, and published the second book. Grayson and Payne stress how permaculture media practices, such as the radio interview mentioned above and publications like Permaculture Magazine and Permaculture International Journal were key factors in the spreading of the design system and building a global network.The ideas developed around the concept of permaculture were shaped by, and in turned contributed to shape, the social climate of the late 1960s and early 1970s that captured the discontent with both capitalism and the Cold War, and that coalesced in “alternative lifestyles groups” (Metcalf). In 1973, for instance, the Aquarius Festival in Nimbin was not only a countercultural landmark, but also the site of emergence of alternative experiments in living that found their embodiment in experimental housing design (Stickells). The same interest in technological innovation mixed with rural skills animated one of permaculture’s precursors, the “back to the land movement” and its attempt “to blend rural traditionalism and technological and ideological modernity” (Grayson).This character of remix remains one of the characteristics of permaculture. Unlike movements based mostly on escape from the mainstream, permaculture offered a repertoire, and a system of adaptable solutions to live both in the country and the city. Like many aspects of the “alternative lifestyle” counterculture, permaculture was and is intensely biopolitical in the sense that it is concerned with the management of life itself “from below”: one’s own, people’s life and life on planet earth more generally. This understanding of biopolitics as power of life rather than over life is translated in permaculture into malleable design processes across a range of diversified practices. These are at the basis of the endurance of permaculture beyond the experiments in alternative lifestyles.In distinguishing it from sustainability (a contested concept among permaculture practitioners, some of whom prefer the notion of “planning for abundance”), Barry sees permaculture as:locally based and robustly contextualized implementations of sustainability, based on the notion that there is no ‘one size fits all’ model of sustainability. Permaculture, though rightly wary of more mainstream, reformist, and ‘business as usual’ accounts of sustainability can be viewed as a particular localized, and resilience-based conceptualization of sustainable living and the creation of ‘sustainable communities’. (83)The adaptability of permaculture to diverse solutions is stressed by Molly Scott-Cato, who, following David Holmgren, defines it as follows: “Permaculture is not a set of rules; it is a process of design based around principles found in the natural world, of cooperation and mutually beneficial relationships, and translating these principles into actions” (176).Permaculture Practice as Assemblage Scott Cato’s definition of permaculture helps us to understand both its conceptual framework as it is set out in permaculture manuals and textbooks, and the way it operates in practice at an individual, local, regional, national and global level, as an assemblage. Using the idea of assemblage, as defined by Jane Bennett, we are able to understand permaculture as part of an “ad hoc grouping”, a “collectivity” made up of many types of actors, humans, non humans, nature and culture, whose “coherence co-exists with energies and countercultures that exceed and confound it” (445-6). Put slightly differently, permaculture is part of “living” assemblage whose existence is not dependent on or governed by a “central power”. Nor can it be influenced by any single entity or member (445-6). Rather, permaculture is a “complex, gigantic whole” that is “made up variously, of somatic, technological, cultural, and atmospheric elements” (447).In considering permaculture as an assemblage that includes countercultural elements, we specifically adhere to John Law’s description of Actor Network Theory as an approach that relies on an empirical foundation rather than a theoretical one in order to “tell stories about ‘how’ relationships assemble or don’t” (141). The hybrid nature of permaculture design involving both human and non human stakeholders and their social and material dependencies can be understood as an “assembly” or “thing,” where everything not only plays its part relationally but where “matters of fact” are combined with “matters of concern” (Latour, "Critique"). As Barry explains, permaculture is a “holistic and systems-based approach to understanding and designing human-nature relations” (82). Permaculture principles are based on the enactment of interconnections, continuous feedback and reshuffling among plants, humans, animals, chemistry, social life, things, energy, built and natural environment, and tools.Bruno Latour calls this kind of relationality a “sphere” or a “network” that comprises of many interconnected nodes (Latour, "Actor-Network" 31). The connections between the nodes are not arbitrary, they are based on “associations” that dissolve the “micro-macro distinctions” of near and far, emphasizing the “global entity” of networks (361-381). Not everything is globalised but the global networks that structure the planet affect everything and everyone. In the context of permaculture, we argue that despite being highly connected through a network of digital and analogue platforms, the movement remains localised. In other words, permaculture is both local and global articulating global matters of concern such as food production, renewable energy sources, and ecological wellbeing in deeply localised variants.These address how the matters of concerns engendered by global networks in specific places interact with local elements. A community based permaculture practice in a desert area, for instance, will engage with storing renewable energy, or growing food crops and maintaining a stable ecology using the same twelve design principles and ethics as an educational business doing rooftop permaculture in a major urban centre. The localised applications, however, will result in a very different permaculture assemblage of animals, plants, technologies, people, affects, discourses, pedagogies, media, images, and resources.Similarly, if we consider permaculture as a network of interconnected nodes on a larger scale, such as in the case of national organisations, we can see how each node provides a counterpoint that models ecological best practices with respect to ingrained everyday ways of doing things, corporate and conventional agriculture, and so on. This adaptability and ability to effect practices has meant that permaculture’s sphere of influence has grown to include public institutions, such as city councils, public and private spaces, and schools.A short description of some of the nodes in the evolving permaculture assemblage in Sydney, where we live, is an example of the way permaculture has advanced from its alternative lifestyle beginnings to become part of the repertoire of contemporary activism. These practices, in turn, make room for accepted ways of doing things to move in new directions. In this assemblage each constellation operates within well established sites: local councils, public spaces, community groups, and businesses, while changing the conventional way these sites operate.The permaculture assemblage in Sydney includes individuals and communities in local groups coordinated in a city-wide network, Permaculture Sydney, connected to similar regional networks along the NSW seaboard; local government initiatives, such as in Randwick, Sydney, and Pittwater and policies like Sustainable City Living; community gardens like the inner city food forest at Angel Street or the hybrid public open park and educational space at the Permaculture Interpretive Garden; private permaculture gardens; experiments in grassroot urban permaculture and in urban agriculture; gardening, education and landscape business specialising in permaculture design, like Milkwood and Sydney Organic Gardens; loose groups of permaculturalists gathering around projects, such as Permablitz Sydney; media personalities and programs, as in the case of the hugely successful garden show Gardening Australia hosted by Costa Georgiadis; germane organisations dedicated to food sovereignty or seed saving, the Transition Towns movement; farmers’ markets and food coops; and multifarious private/public sustainability initiatives.Permaculture is a set of practices that, in themselves are not inherently “against” anything, yet empower people to form their own lifestyles and communities. After all, permaculture is a design system, a way to analyse space, and body of knowledge based on set principles and ethics. The identification of permaculture as a form of activism, or indeed as countercultural, is externally imposed, and therefore contingent on the ways conventional forms of housing and food production are understood as being in opposition.As we have shown elsewhere (2014) thinking through design practices as assemblages can describe hybrid forms of participation based on relationships to broader political movements, disciplines and organisations.Use Edges and Value the Marginal The eleventh permaculture design principle calls for an appreciation of the marginal and the edge: “The interface between things is where the most interesting events take place. These are often the most valuable, diverse and productive elements in the system” (permacultureprinciples.com). In other words the edge is understood as the site where things come together generating new possible paths and interactions. In this paper we have taken this metaphor to think through the relations between permaculture and counterculture. We argued that permaculture emerged from the countercultural ferment of the late 1960s and 1970s and intersected with other fringe alternative lifestyle experiments. In its contemporary form the “counter” value needs to be understood as counterpoint rather than as a position of pure oppositionality to the mainstream.The edge in permaculture is not a boundary on the periphery of a design, but a site of interconnection, hybridity and exchange, that produces adaptable and different possibilities. Similarly permaculture shares with forms of contemporary activism “flexible action repertoires” (Mayer 203) able to interconnect and traverse diverse contexts, including mainstream institutions. Permaculture deploys an action repertoire that integrates not segregates and that is aimed at inviting a shift in everyday practices and at doing things differently: differently from the mainstream and from the way global capital operates, without claiming to be in a position outside global capital flows. In brief, the assemblages of practices, ideas, and people generated by permaculture, like the ones described in this paper, as a counterpoint bring together discordant elements on equal terms.ReferencesBarry, John. The Politics of Actually Existing Unsustainability: Human Flourishing in a Climate-Changed, Carbon Constrained World. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012.Bennett, Jane. “The Agency of Assemblages and the North American Blackout.” Public Culture 17.3 (2005): 445-65.Castells, Manuel. “The New Public Sphere: Global Civil Society, Communication, Networks, and Global Governance.” ANNALS, AAPSS 616 (2008): 78-93.Crosby, Alexandra, Jacqueline Lorber-Kasunic, and Ilaria Vanni. “Mapping Hybrid Design Participation in Sydney.” Proceedings of the Arte-Polis 5th International Conference – Reflections on Creativity: Public Engagement and the Making of Place. Bandung, 2014.Grayson, Russ, and Steve Payne. “Tasmanian Roots.” New Internationalist 402 (2007): 10–11.Grayson, Russ. “The Permaculture Papers 2: The Dawn.” PacificEdge 2010. 6 Oct. 2014 ‹http://pacific-edge.info/2010/10/the-permaculture-papers-2-the-dawn›.Holmgren, David. “About Permaculture.” Holmgren Design, Permaculture Vision and Innovation. 2014.Julier, Guy. “From Design Culture to Design Activism.” Design and Culture 5.2 (2013): 215-236.Law, John. “Actor Network Theory and Material Semiotics.” In The New Blackwell Companion to Social Theory, ed. Bryan S. Turner. Chichester, West Sussex: Wiley-Blackwell. 2009. 141-158. Latour, Bruno. “On Actor-Network Theory. A Few Clarifications plus More than a Few Complications.” Philosophia, 25.3 (1996): 47-64.Latour, Bruno. “Why Has Critique Run Out of Steam? From Matters of Fact to Matters of Concern.” Critical Inquiry 30 (2004): 225–48. 6 Dec. 2014 ‹http://www.ensmp.fr/~latour/articles/article/089.html›.Levin, Simon A. The Princeton Guide to Ecology. Princeton: Princeton UP. 2009Lockyer, Joshua, and James R. Veteto, eds. Environmental Anthropology Engaging Ecotopia: Bioregionalism, Permaculture, and Ecovillages. Vol. 17. Berghahn Books, 2013.Madge, Pauline. “Ecological Design: A New Critique.” Design Issues 13.2 (1997): 44-54.Mayer, Margit. “Manuel Castells’ The City and the Grassroots.” International Journal of Urban and Regional Research 30.1 (2006): 202–206.Markussen, Thomas. “The Disruptive Aesthetics of Design Activism: Enacting Design between Art and Politics.” Design Issues 29.1 (2013): 38-50.McGregor, Craig. “What Counter-Culture?” Meanjin Quarterly 34.1 (1975).McGregor, Craig. “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised.” Meanjin Quarterly 30.2 (1971): 176-179.McKay, G. “DiY Culture: Notes Toward an Intro.” In G. McKay, ed., DiY Culture: Party and Protest in Nineties Britain, London: Verso, 1988. 1-53.Metcalf, William J. “A Classification of Alternative Lifestyle Groups.” Journal of Sociology 20.66 (1984): 66–80.Milkwood. “Frequently Asked Questions.” 30 Sep. 2014. 6 Dec. 2014 ‹http://www.milkwoodpermaculture.com.au/permaculture/faqs›.Mollison, Bill, and David Holmgren. Permaculture One: A Perennial Agricultural System for Human Settlements. Melbourne: Transworld Publishers, 1978.Musgrove, F. Ecstasy and Holiness: Counter Culture and the Open Society. London: Methuen and Co., 1974.permacultureprinciples.com. 25 Nov. 2014.Pink, Sarah. Situating Everyday Life. London: Sage, 2012.Robinson, Shirleene. “1960s Counter-Culture in Australia: the Search for Personal Freedom.” In The 1960s in Australia: People, Power and Politics, eds. Shirleene Robinson and Julie Ustinoff. Newcastle, UK: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2012.Said, Edward. Culture and Imperialism. London: Chatto & Windus, 1993.Scott-Cato. Molly. Environment and Economy. Abingdon: Routledge, 2011.Stephens, Julie. Anti-Disciplinary Protest: Sixties Radicalism and Postmodernism. Cambridge; New York: Cambridge UP, 1998.Stickells, Lee. “‘And Everywhere Those Strange Polygonal Igloos’: Framing a History of Australian Countercultural Architecture.” In Proceedings of the Society of Architectural Historians, Australia and New Zealand 30: Open. Vol. 2. Eds. Alexandra Brown and Andrew Leach. Gold Coast, Qld: SAHANZ, 2013. 555-568.

Working drawings are produced, when a house is designed, to envisage an imagined building. They are a tangible representation of an object that has no tangible existence. These working drawings act as a manual for constructing the house; they represent that which is to be built. The house comes into being, therefore, via this set of drawings. This is known as documentation. However, these drawings record the house at an ideal moment in time; they capture the house in stasis. They do not represent the future life of the house, the changes and traces the inhabitants make upon a space, nor do they document the path of the person, the arc of their actions, within the space of the house. Other types of documentation of the house allow these elements to be included. Documentation that is produced after-the-event, that interprets ‘the existing’, is absent from discourses on documentation; the realm of post factum documentation is a less examined form of documentation. This paper investigates post factum documentation of the house, and the alternative ways of making, producing and, therefore, thinking about, the house that it offers. This acknowledges the body in the space of architecture, and the inhabitation of space, and as a dynamic process. This then leads to the potential of the‘model of an action’ representing the motion and temporality inherent within the house. Architecture may then be seen as that which encloses the inhabitant. The word ‘document’ refers to a record or evidence of events. It implies a chronological sequence: the document comes after-the-event, that is, it is post factum. Within architecture, however, the use of the word documentation, predominantly, refers to working drawings that are made to ‘get to’ a building, drawings being the dominant representation within architecture. Robin Evans calls this notion, of architecture being brought into existence through drawing, the principle of reversed directionality (Evans 1997, 1989). Although it may be said that these types of drawings document the idea, or document the imagined reality of the building, their main emphasis, and reading, is in getting to something. In this case, the term documentation is used, not due to the documents’ placement within a process, of coming after the subject-object, but in referring to the drawings’ role. Other architectural drawings do exist that are a record of what is seen, but these are not the dominant drawing practice within architecture. Documentation within architecture regards the act of drawing as that process upon which the object is wholly dependent for its coming into existence. Drawing is defined as the pre-eminent methodology for generation of the building; drawings are considered the necessary initial step towards the creation of the 1:1 scale object. During the designing phase, the drawings are primary, setting out an intention. Drawings, therefore, are regarded as having a prescriptive endpoint rather than being part of an open-ended improvisation. Drawings, in getting to a building, draw out something, the act of drawing searches for and uncovers the latent design, drawing it into existence. They are seen as getting to the core of the design. Drawings display a technique of making and are influenced by their medium. Models, in getting to a building, may be described in the same way. The act of modelling, of making manifest two-dimensional sketches into a three-dimensional object, operates similarly in possessing a certain power in assisting the design process to unfurl. Drawing, as recording, alters the object. This act of drawing is used to resolve, and to edit, by excluding and omitting, as much as by including, within its page. Models similarly made after-the-fact are interpretive and consciously aware of their intentions. In encapsulating the subject-object, the model as documentation is equally drawing out meaning. This type of documentation is not neutral, but rather involves interpretation and reflection through representational editing. Working drawings record the house at an ideal moment in time: at the moment the builders leave the site and the owners unlock the front door. These drawings capture the house in stasis. There is often the notion that until the owners of a new house move in, the house has been empty, unlived in. But the life of the house cannot be fixed to any one starting point; rather it has different phases of life from conception to ruin. With working drawings being the dominant representation of the house, they exclude much; both the life of the house before this act of inhabitation, and the life that occurs after it. The transformations that occur at each phase of construction are never shown in a set of working drawings. When a house is built, it separates itself from the space it resides within: the domain of the house is marked off from the rest of the site. The house has a skin of a periphery, that inherently creates an outside and an inside (Kreiser 88). As construction continues, there is a freedom in the structure which closes down; potential becomes prescriptive as choices are made and embodied in material. The undesignedness of the site, that exists before the house is planned, becomes lost once the surveyors’ pegs are in place (Wakely 92). Next, the skeletal frame of open volumes becomes roofed, and then becomes walled, and walking through the frame becomes walking through doorways. One day an interior is created. The interior and exterior of the house are now two different things, and the house has definite edges (Casey 290). At some point, the house becomes lockable, its security assured through this act of sealing. It is this moment that working drawings capture. Photographs comprise the usual documentation of houses once they are built, and yet they show no lived-in-ness, no palimpsest of occupancy. They do not observe the changes and traces the inhabitants make upon a space, nor do they document the path of the person, the arc of their actions, within the space of the house. American architects and artists Elizabeth Diller and Ricardo Scofidio have written of these traces of the everyday that punctuate floor and wall surfaces: the intersecting rings left by coffee glasses on a tabletop, the dust under a bed that becomes its plan analog when the bed is moved, the swing etched into the floor by a sagging door. (Diller & Scofidio 99) It is these marks, these traces, that are omitted from the conventional documentation of a built house. To examine an alternative way of documenting, and to redress these omissions, a redefinition of the house is needed. A space can be delineated by its form, its edges, or it can be defined by the actions that are performed, and the connections between people that occur, within it. To define the house by what it encapsulates, rather than being seen as an object in space, allows a different type of documentation to be employed. By defining a space as that which accommodates actions, rooms may be delineated by the reach of a person, carved out by the actions of a person, as though they are leaving a trace as they move, a windscreen wiper of living, through the repetition of an act. Reverse directional documentation does not directly show the actions that take place within a house; we must infer these from the rooms’ fittings and fixtures, and the names on the plan. In a similar way, Italo Calvino, in Invisible Cities, defines a city by the relationships between its inhabitants, rather than by its buildings: in Ersilia, to establish the relationships that sustain the city’s life, the inhabitants stretch strings from the corners of the houses, white or black or grey or black-and-white according to whether they mark a relationship of blood, of trade, authority, agency. When the strings become so numerous that you can no longer pass among them, the inhabitants leave: the houses are dismantled; only the strings and their supports remain … Thus, when travelling in the territory of Ersilia, you come upon the ruins of the abandoned cities without the walls which do not last, without the bones of the dead which the wind rolls away: spiderwebs of intricate relationships seeking a form. (Calvino 62) By defining architecture by that which it encapsulates, form or materiality may be given to the ‘spiderwebs of intricate relationships’. Modelling the actions that are performed in the space of architecture, therefore, models the architecture. This is referred to as a model of an action. In examining the model of an action, the possibilities of post factum documentation of the house may be seen. The Shinkenchiku competition The Plan-Less House (2006), explored these ideas of representing a house without using the conventional plan to do so. A suggested alternative was to map the use of the house by its inhabitants, similar to the idea of the model of an action. The house could be described by a technique of scanning: those areas that came into contact with the body would be mapped. Therefore, the representation of the house is not connected with spatial division, that is, by marking the location of walls, but rather with its use by its inhabitants. The work of Diller and Scofidio and Allan Wexler and others explores this realm. One inquiry they share is the modelling of the body in the space of architecture: to them, the body is inseparable from the conception of space. By looking at their work, and that of others, three different ways of representing this inhabitation of space are seen. These are: to represent the objects involved in a particular action, or patterns of movement, that occurs in the space, in a way that highlights the action; to document the action itself; or to document the result of the action. These can all be defined as the model of an action. The first way, the examination of the body in a space via an action’s objects, is explored by American artist Allan Wexler, who defines architecture as ‘choreography without a choreographer, structuring its inhabitant’s movements’ (Galfetti 22). In his project ‘Crate House’ (1981), Wexler examines the notion of the body in a space via an action’s objects. He divided the house into its basic activities: bedroom, bathroom, kitchen and living room. Each of these is then defined by their artefacts, contained in their own crate on wheels, which is rolled out when needed. At any point in time, the entire house becomes the activity due to its crate: when a room such as the kitchen is needed, that crate is rolled in through one of the door openings. When the occupant is tired, the entire house becomes a bedroom, and when the occupant is hungry, it becomes a kitchen … I view each crate as if it is a diorama in a natural history museum — the pillow, the spoon, the flashlight, the pot, the nail, the salt. We lose sight of everyday things. These things I isolate, making them sculpture: their use being theatre. (Galfetti 42–6) The work of Andrea Zittel explores similar ideas. ‘A–Z Comfort Unit’ (1994), is made up of five segments, the centrepiece being a couch/bed, which is surrounded by four ancillary units on castors. These offer a library, kitchen, home office and vanity unit. The structure allows the lodger never to need to leave the cocoon-like bed, as all desires are an arm’s reach away. The ritual of eating a meal is examined in Wexler’s ‘Scaffold Furniture’ (1988). This project isolates the components of the dining table without the structure of the table. Instead, the chair, plate, cup, glass, napkin, knife, fork, spoon and lamp are suspended by scaffolding. Their connection, rather than being that of objects sharing a tabletop, is seen to be the (absent) hand that uses them during a meal; the act of eating is highlighted. In these examples, the actions performed within a space are represented by the objects involved in the action. A second way of representing the patterns of movement within a space is to represent the action itself. The Japanese tea ceremony breaks the act of drinking into many parts, separating and dissecting the whole as a way of then reassembling it as though it is one continuous action. Wexler likens this to an Eadweard Muybridge film of a human in motion (Galfetti 31). This one action is then housed in a particular building, so that when devoid of people, the action itself still has a presence. Another way of documenting the inhabitation of architecture, by drawing the actions within the space, is time and motion studies, such as those of Rene W.P. Leanhardt (Diller & Scofidio 40–1). In one series of photographs, lights were attached to a housewife’s wrists, to demonstrate the difference in time and effort required in the preparation of a dinner prepared entirely from scratch in ninety minutes, and a pre-cooked, pre-packaged dinner of the same dish, which took only twelve minutes. These studies are lines of light, recorded as line drawings on a photograph of the kitchen. They record the movement of the person in the room of the action they perform, but they also draw the kitchen in a way conventional documentation does not. A recent example of the documentation of an action was undertaken by Asymptote and the students at Columbia University Graduate School of Architecture in their exhibition at the Venice Biennale of Architecture in 2000. A gymnast moving through the interior space of the pavilion was recorded using a process of digitisation and augmentation. Using modelling procedures, the spatial information was then reconstructed to become a full-scale architectural re-enactment of the gymnast’s trajectory through the room (Feireiss 40). This is similar to a recent performance by Australian contemporary dance company Chunky Move, called ‘Glow’. Infra-red video tracking took a picture of the dancer twenty-five times a second. This was used to generate shapes and images based on the movements of a solo dancer, which were projected onto the floor and the dancer herself. In the past, when the company has used DVDs or videos, the dancer has had to match what they were doing to the projection. This shifts the technology to following the dancer (Bibby 3). A third way of representing the inhabitation of architecture is to document the result of an action. Raoul Bunschoten writes of the marks of a knife being the manifestation of the act of cutting, as an analogy: incisions imply the use of a cutting tool. Together, cuts and cutting tool embrace a special condition. The actual movement of the incision is fleeting, the cut or mark stays behind, the knife moves on, creating an apparent discontinuity … The space of the cut is a reminder of the knife, its shape and its movements: the preparation, the swoop through the air, the cutting, withdrawal, the moving away. These movements remain implicitly connected with the cut as its imaginary cause, as a mnemonic programme about a hand holding a knife, incising a surface, severing skin. (Bunschoten 40) As a method of documenting actions, the paintings of Jackson Pollack can be seen as a manifestation of an act. In the late 1940s, Pollack began to drip paint onto a canvas laid flat on the floor; his tools were sticks and old caked brushes. This process clarified his work, allowing him to walk around it and work from all four sides. Robert Hughes describes it as ‘painting “from the hip” … swinging paintstick in flourishes and frisks that required an almost dancelike movement of the body’ (Hughes 154). These paintings made manifest Pollack’s gestures. As his arm swung in space, the dripping paint followed that arc, to be preserved on a flat plane as pictorial space (Hughes 262). Wexler, in another study, recorded the manifestation of an action. He placed a chair in a one-room building. It was attached to lengths of timber that extended outdoors through slots in the walls of the building. As the chair moved inside the building, its projections carved grooves in the ground outside. As the chair moved in a particular pattern, deeper grooves were created: ‘Eventually, the occupant of the chair has no choice in his movement; the architecture moves him.’ (Galfetti 14) The pattern of movement creates a result, which in turn influences the movement. By redefining architecture by what it encapsulates rather than by the enclosure itself, allows architecture to be documented by the post factum model of an action that occurs in that space. This leads to the exploration of architecture, formed by the body within it, since the documentation and representation of architecture starts to affect the reading of architecture. Architecture may then be seen as that which encloses the inhabitant. The documentation of the body and the space it makes concerns the work of the Hungarian architect Imre Makovecz. His exploration is of the body and the space it makes. Makovecz, and a circle of like-minded architects and artists, embarked on a series of experiments analysing the patterns of human motion and subsequently set up a competition based around the search for a minimum existential space. This consisted of mapping human motion in certain spatial conditions and situations. Small light bulbs were attached to points on the limbs and joints and photographed, creating a series of curves and forms. This led to a competition called ‘Minimal Space’ (1971–2), in which architects, artists and designers were invited to consider a minimal space for containing the human body, a new notion of personal containment. Makovecz’s own response took the form of a bell-like capsule composed of a double shell expressing its presence and location in both time and space (Heathcote 120). Vito Acconci, an artist turned architect by virtue of his installation work, explored this notion of enclosure in his work (Feireiss 38). In 1980 Acconci began his series of ‘self-erecting architectures’, vehicles or instruments involving one or more viewers whose operation erected simple buildings (Acconci & Linker 114). In his project ‘Instant House’ (1980), a set of walls lies flat on the floor, forming an open cruciform shape. By sitting in the swing in the centre of this configuration, the visitor activates an apparatus of cables and pulleys causing walls to rise and form a box-like house. It is a work that explores the idea of enclosing, of a space being something that has to be constructed, in the same way for example one builds up meaning (Reed 247–8). This documentation of architecture directly references the inhabitation of architecture. The post factum model of architecture is closely linked to the body in space and the actions it performs. Examining the actions and movement patterns within a space allows the inhabitation process to be seen as a dynamic process. David Owen describes the biological process of ‘ecopoiesis’: the process of a system making a home for itself. He describes the building and its occupants jointly as the new system, in a system of shaping and reshaping themselves until there is a tolerable fit (Brand 164). The definition of architecture as being that which encloses us, interests Edward S. Casey: in standing in my home, I stand here and yet feel surrounded (sheltered, challenged, drawn out, etc.) by the building’s boundaries over there. A person in this situation is not simply in time or simply in space but experiences an event in all its engaging and unpredictable power. In Derrida’s words, ‘this outside engages us in the very thing we are’, and we find ourselves subjected to architecture rather than being the controlling subject that plans or owns, uses or enjoys it; in short architecture ‘comprehends us’. (Casey 314) This shift in relationship between the inhabitant and architecture shifts the documentation and reading of the exhibition of architecture. Casey’s notion of architecture comprehending the inhabitant opens the possibility for an alternate exhibition of architecture, the documentation of that which is beyond the inhabitant’s direction. Conventional documentation shows a quiescence to the house. Rather than attempting to capture the flurry — the palimpsest of occupancy — within the house, it is presented as stilled, inert and dormant. In representing the house this way, a lull is provided, fostering a steadiness of gaze: a pause is created, within which to examine the house. However, the house is then seen as object, rather than that which encapsulates motion and temporality. Defining, and thus documenting, the space of architecture by its actions, extends the perimeter of architecture. No longer is the house bounded by its doors and walls, but rather by the extent of its patterns of movement. Post factum documentation allows this altering of the definition of architecture, as it includes the notion of the model of an action. By appropriating, clarifying and reshaping situations that are relevant to the investigation of post factum documentation, the notion of the inhabitation of the house as a definition of architecture may be examined. This further examines the relationship between architectural representation, the architectural image, and the image of architecture. References Acconci, V., and K. Linker. Vito Acconci. New York: Rizzoli, 1994. Bibby, P. “Dancer in the Dark Is Light Years Ahead.” Sydney Morning Herald 22 March 2007: 3. Brand, S. How Buildings Learn: What Happens after They’re Built. London: Phoenix Illustrated, 1997. Bunschoten, R. “Cutting the Horizon: Two Theses on Architecture.” Forum (Nov. 1992): 40–9. Calvino, I. Invisible Cities. London: Picador, 1979. Casey, E.S. The Fate of Place. California: U of California P, 1998. Diller, E., and R. Scofidio. Flesh: Architectural Probes. New York: Princeton Architectural Press, 1994. Evans, R. Translations from Drawing to Building and Other Essays. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1997. ———. “Architectural Projection.” Eds. E. Blau and E. Kaufman. Architecture and Its Image: Four Centuries of Architectural Representation: Works from the Collection of the Canadian Center for Architecture. Exhibition catalogue. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1989. 19–35. Feireiss, K., ed. The Art of Architecture Exhibitions. Rotterdam: Netherlands Architecture Institute, 2001. Galfetti, G.G., ed. Allan Wexler. Barcelona: GG Portfolio, 1998. Glanville, R. “An Irregular Dodekahedron and a Lemon Yellow Citroen.” In L. van Schaik, ed., The Practice of Practice: Research in the Medium of Design. Melbourne: RMIT University Press, 2003. 258–265. Heathcote, E. Imre Mackovecz: The Wings of the Soul. West Sussex: Academy Editions, 1997. Hughes, R. The Shock of the New: Art and the Century of Change. London: British Broadcasting Corporation, 1980. Kreiser, C. “On the Loss of (Dark) Inside Space.” Daidalos 36 (June 1990): 88–99. Reed, C. ed. Not at Home: The Suppression of Domesticity in Modern Art and Architecture. London: Thames & Hudson, 1996. “Shinkenchiku Competition 2006: The Plan-Less House.” The Japan Architect 64 (Winter 2007): 7–12. Small, D. Paper John. USA: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1987. Wakely, M. Dream Home. Crows Nest, NSW: Allen & Unwin. 2003. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Macken, Marian. "And Then We Moved In: Post Factum Documentation of the House." M/C Journal 10.4 (2007). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0708/04-macken.php>. APA Style Macken, M. (Aug. 2007) "And Then We Moved In: Post Factum Documentation of the House," M/C Journal, 10(4). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0708/04-macken.php>.

There is, in our sense of place, little cognisance of what lies underground. Yet our sense of place, instinctive, unconscious, primeval, has its own underground: the secret spaces which mirror our insides; the world beneath the skin. Our roots lie beneath the ground, with the minerals and the dead. (Hughes 83) The-Home-and-Away-Game Imagine the earth-grounded, “diagrammatological” trajectory of a footballer who as one member of a team is psyching himself up before the start of a game. The siren blasts its trumpet call. The footballer bursts out of the pavilion (where this psyching up has taken place) to engage in the opening bounce or kick of the game. And then: running, leaping, limping after injury, marking, sliding, kicking, and possibly even passing out from concussion. Finally, the elation accompanying the final siren, after which hugs, handshakes and raised fists conclude the actual match on the football oval. This exit from the pavilion, the course the player takes during the game itself, and return to the pavilion, forms a combination of stasis and movement, and a return to exhausted stasis again, that every player engages with regardless of the game code. Examined from a “diagrammatological” perspective, a perspective Rowan Wilken (following in the path of Gilles Deleuze and W. J. T. Mitchell) understands as “a generative process: a ‘metaphor’ or way of thinking — diagrammatic, diagrammatological thinking — which in turn, is linked to poetic thinking” (48), this footballer’s scenario arises out of an aerial perspective that depicts the actual spatial trajectory the player takes during the course of a game. It is a diagram that is digitally encoded via a sensor on the footballer’s body, and being an electronically encoded diagram it can also make available multiple sets of data such as speed, heartbeat, blood pressure, maybe even brain-wave patterns. From this limited point of view there is only one footballer’s playing trajectory to consider; various groupings within the team, the whole team itself, and the diagrammatological depiction of its games with various other teams might also be possible. This singular imagining though is itself an actuality: as a diagram it is encoded as a graphic image by a satellite hovering around the earth with a Global Positioning System (GPS) reading the sensor attached to the footballer which then digitally encodes this diagrammatological trajectory for appraisal later by the player, coach, team and management. In one respect, this practice is another example of a willing self-surveillance critical to explaining the reflexive subject and its attribute of continuous self-improvement. According to Docker, Official Magazine of the Fremantle Football Club, this is a technique the club uses as a part of game/play assessment, a system that can provide a “running map” for each player equipped with such a tracking device during a game. As the Fremantle Club’s Strength and Conditioning Coach Ben Tarbox says of this tactic, “We’re getting a physiological profile that has started to build a really good picture of how individual players react during a game” (21). With a little extra effort (and some sizeable computer processing grunt) this two dimensional linear graphic diagram of a footballer working the football ground could also form the raw material for a three-dimensional animation, maybe a virtual reality game, even a hologram. It could also be used to sideline a non-performing player. Now try another related but different imagining: what if this diagrammatological trajectory could be enlarged a little to include the possibility that this same player’s movements could be mapped out by the idea of home-and-away games; say over the course of a season, maybe even a whole career, for instance? No doubt, a wide range of differing diagrammatological perspectives might suggest themselves. My own particular refinement of this movement/stasis on the footballer’s part suggests my own distinctive comings and goings to and from my own specific piece of home country. And in this incessantly domestic/real world reciprocity, in this diurnally repetitive leaving and coming back to home country, might it be plausible to think of “Home as Capital of the Region”? If, as Walter Benjamin suggests in the prelude to his monumental Arcades Project, “Paris — the Capital of the Nineteenth Century,” could it be that both in and through my comings and goings to and from this selfsame home country, my own burgeoning sense of regionality is constituted in every minute-by-minutiae of lived experience? Could it be that this feeling about home is manifested in my every day-to-night manoeuvre of home-and-away-and-away-and-home-making, of every singular instance of exit, play/engage, and the return home? “Home, Capital of the Region” then examines the idea that my home is that part of the country which is the still-point of eternal return, the bedrock to which I retreat after the daily grind, and the point from which I start out and do it all again the next day. It employs, firstly, this ‘diagrammatological’ perspective to illustrate the point that this stasis/movement across country can make an electronic record of my own psychic self-surveillance and actualisation in-situ. And secondly, the architectural plan of the domestic home (examined through the perspective of critical regionalism) is used as a conduit to illustrate how I am physically embedded in country. Lastly, intermingling these digressive threads is chora, Plato’s notion of embodied place and itself an ancient regional rendering of this eternal return to the beginning, the place where the essential diversity of country decisively enters the soul. Chora: Core of Regionality Kevin Lynch writes that, “Our senses are local, while our experience is regional” (10), a combination that suggests this regional emphasis on home-and-away-making might be a useful frame of reference (simultaneously spatiotemporal, both a visceral and encoded communication) for me to include as a crucial vector in my own life-long learning package. Regionality (as, variously, a sub-generic categorisation and an extension/concentration of nationality, as well as a recently re-emerged friend/antagonist to a global understanding) infuses my world of home with a grounded footing in country, one that is a site of an Eternal Return to the Beginning in the micro-world of the everyday. This is a point John Sallis discusses at length in his analysis of Plato’s Timaeus and its founding notion of regionality: chora. More extended absences away from home-base are of course possible but one’s return to home on most days and for most nights is a given of post/modern, maybe even of ancient everyday experience. Even for the continually shifting nomad, nightfall in some part of the country brings the rest and recreation necessary for the next day’s wanderings. This fundamental question of an Eternal Return to the Beginning arises as a crucial element of the method in Plato’s Timaeus, a seemingly “unstructured” mythic/scientific dialogue about the origins and structure of both the psychically and the physically implaced world. In the Timaeus, “incoherence is especially obvious in the way the natural sequence in which a narrative would usually unfold is interrupted by regressions, corrections, repetitions, and abrupt new beginnings” (Gadamer 160). Right in the middle of the Timaeus, in between its sections on the “Work of Reason” and the “Work of Necessity”, sits chora, both an actual spatial and bodily site where my being intersects with my becoming, and where my lived life criss-crosses the various arts necessary to articulating a recorded version of that life. Every home is a grounded chora-logical timespace harness guiding its occupant’s thoughts, feelings and actions. My own regionally implaced chora (an example of which is the diagrammatological trajectory already outlined above as my various everyday comings and goings, of me acting in and projecting myself into context) could in part be understood as a graphical realisation of the extent of my movements and stationary rests in my own particular timespace trajectory. The shorthand for this process is ‘embedded’. Gregory Ulmer writes of chora that, “While chorography as a term is close to choreography, it duplicates a term that already exists in the discipline of geography, thus establishing a valuable resonance for a rhetoric of invention concerned with the history of ‘place’ in relation to memory” (Heuretics 39, original italics). Chorography is the geographic discipline for the systematic study and analysis of regions. Chora, home, country and regionality thus form an important multi-dimensional zone of interplay in memorialising the game of everyday life. In light of these observations I might even go so far as to suggest that this diagrammatological trajectory (being both digital and GPS originated) is part of the increasingly electrate condition that guides the production of knowledge in any global/regional context. This last point is a contextual connection usefully examined in Alan J. Scott’s Regions and the World Economy: The Coming Shape of Global Production, Competition, and Political Order and Michael Storper’s The Regional World: Territorial Development in a Global Economy. Their analyses explicitly suggest that the symbiosis between globalisation and regionalisation has been gathering pace since at least the end of World War Two and the Bretton Woods agreement. Our emerging understanding of electracy also happens to be Gregory Ulmer’s part-remedy for shifting the ground under the intense debates surrounding il/literacy in the current era (see, in particular, Internet Invention). And, for Tony Bennett, Michael Emmison and John Frow’s analysis of “Australian Everyday Cultures” (“Media Culture and the Home” 57–86), it is within the home that our un.conscious understanding of electronic media is at its most intense, a pattern that emerges in the longer term through receiving telegrams, compiling photo albums, listening to the radio, home- and video-movies, watching the evening news on television, and logging onto the computer in the home-office, media-room or home-studio. These various generalisations (along with this diagrammatological view of my comings and goings to and from the built space of home), all point indiscriminately to a productive confusion surrounding the sedentary and nomadic opposition/conjunction. If natural spaces are constituted in nouns like oceans, forests, plains, grasslands, steppes, deserts, rivers, tidal interstices, farmland etc. (and each categorisation here relies on the others for its existence and demarcation) then built space is often seen as constituting its human sedentary equivalent. For Deleuze and Guatteri (in A Thousand Plateaus, “1227: Treatise on Nomadology — The War Machine”) these natural spaces help instigate a nomadic movement across localities and regions. From a nomadology perspective, these smooth spaces unsettle a scientific, numerical calculation, sometimes even aesthetic demarcation and order. If they are marked at all, it is by heterogenous and differential forces, energised through constantly oscillating intensities. A Thousand Plateaus is careful though not to elevate these smooth nomadic spaces over the more sedentary spaces of culture and power (372–373). Nonetheless, as Edward S. Casey warns, “In their insistence on becoming and movement, however, the authors of A Thousand Plateaus overlook the placial potential of settled dwelling — of […] ‘built places’” (309, original italics). Sedentary, settled dwelling centred on home country may have a crust of easy legibility and order about it but it also formats a locally/regionally specific nomadic quality, a point underscored above in the diagrammatological perspective. The sedentary tendency also emerges once again in relation to home in the architectural drafting of the domestic domicile. The Real Estate Revolution When Captain Cook planted the British flag in the sand at Botany Bay in 1770 and declared the country it spiked as Crown Land and henceforth will come under the ownership of an English sovereign, it was also the moment when white Australia’s current fascination with real estate was conceived. In the wake of this spiking came the intense anxiety over Native Title that surfaced in late twentieth century Australia when claims of Indigenous land grabs would repossess suburban homes. While easily dismissed as hyperbole, a rhetorical gesture intended to arouse this very anxiety, its emergence is nonetheless an indication of the potential for political and psychic unsettling at the heart of the ownership and control of built place, or ‘settled dwelling’ in the Australian context. And here it would be wise to include not just the gridded, architectural quality of home-building and home-making, but also the home as the site of the family romance, another source of unsettling as much as a peaceful calming. Spreading out from the boundaries of the home are the built spaces of fences, bridges, roads, railways, airport terminals (along with their interconnecting pathways), which of course brings us back to the communications infrastructure which have so often followed alongside the development of transport infrastructure. These and other elements represent this conglomerate of built space, possibly the most significant transformation of natural space that humanity has brought about. For the purposes of this meditation though it is the more personal aspect of built space — my home and regional embeddedness, along with their connections into the global electrosphere — that constitutes the primary concern here. For a sedentary, striated space to settle into an unchallenged existence though requires a repression of the highest order, primarily because of the home’s proximity to everyday life, of the latter’s now fading ability to sometimes leave its presuppositions well enough alone. In settled, regionally experienced space, repressions are more difficult to abstract away, they are lived with on a daily basis, which also helps to explain the extra intensity brought to their sometimes-unsettling quality. Inversely, and encased in this globalised electro-spherical ambience, home cannot merely be a place where one dwells within avoiding those presuppositions, I take them with me when I travel and they come back with me from afar. This is a point obliquely reflected in Pico Iyer’s comment that “Australians have so flexible a sense of home, perhaps, that they can make themselves at home anywhere” (185). While our sense of home may well be, according to J. Douglas Porteous, “the territorial core” of our being, when other arrangements of space and knowledge shift it must inevitably do so as well. In these shifts of spatial affiliation (aided and abetted by regionalisation, globalisation and electronic knowledge), the built place of home can no longer be considered exclusively under the illusion of an autonomous sanctuary wholly guaranteed by capitalist property relations, one of the key factors in its attraction. These shifts in the cultural, economic and psychic relation of home to country are important to a sense of local and regional implacement. The “feeling” of autonomy and security involved in home occupation and/or ownership designates a component of this implacement, a point leading to Eric Leed’s comment that, “By the sixteenth century, literacy had become one of the definitive signs — along with the possession of property and a permanent residence — of an independent social status” (53). Globalising and regionalising forces make this feeling of autonomy and security dynamic, shifting the ground of home, work-place practices and citizenship allegiances in the process. Gathering these wide-ranging forces impacting on psychic and built space together is the emergence of critical regionalism as a branch of architectonics, considered here as a theory of domestic architecture. Critical Regionality Critical regionalism emerged out of the collective thinking of Liane Lefaivre and Alexander Tzonis (Tropical Architecture; Critical Regionalism), and as these authors themselves acknowledge, was itself deeply influenced by the work of Lewis Mumford during the first part of the twentieth century when he was arguing against the authority of the international style in architecture, a style epitomised by the Bauhaus movement. It is Kenneth Frampton’s essay, “Towards a Critical Regionalism: Six Points for an Architecture of Resistance” that deliberately takes this question of critical regionalism and makes it a part of a domestic architectonic project. In many ways the ideas critical regionalism espouses can themselves be a microcosm of this concomitantly emerging global/regional polis. With public examples of built-form the power of the centre is on display by virtue of a building’s enormous size and frequently high-cultural aesthetic power. This is a fact restated again and again from the ancient world’s agora to Australia’s own political bunker — its Houses of Parliament in Canberra. While Frampton discusses a range of aspects dealing with the universal/implaced axis across his discussion, it is points five and six that deserve attention from a domestically implaced perspective. Under the sub-heading, “Culture Versus Nature: Topography, Context, Climate, Light and Tectonic Form” is where he writes that, Here again, one touches in concrete terms this fundamental opposition between universal civilization and autochthonous culture. The bulldozing of an irregular topography into a flat site is clearly a technocratic gesture which aspires to a condition of absolute placelessness, whereas the terracing of the same site to receive the stepped form of a building is an engagement in the act of “cultivating” the site. (26, original italics) The “totally flat datum” that the universalising tendency sometimes presupposes is, within the critical regionalist perspective, an erroneous assumption. The “cultivation” of a site for the design of a building illustrates the point that built space emerges out of an interaction between parallel phenomena as they contrast and/or converge in a particular set of timespace co-ordinates. These are phenomena that could include (but are not limited to) geomorphic data like soil and rock formations, seismic activity, inclination and declension; climatic considerations in the form of wind patterns, temperature variations, rainfall patterns, available light and dark, humidity and the like; the building context in relation to the cardinal points of north, south, east, and west, along with their intermediary positions. There are also architectural considerations in the form of available building materials and personnel to consider. The social, psychological and cultural requirements of the building’s prospective in-dwellers are intermingled with all these phenomena. This is not so much a question of where to place the air conditioning system but the actuality of the way the building itself is placed on its site, or indeed if that site should be built on at all. A critical regionalist building practice, then, is autochthonous to the degree that a full consideration of this wide range of in-situ interactions is taken into consideration in the development of its design plan. And given this autochthonous quality of the critical regionalist project, it also suggests that the architectural design plan itself (especially when it utilised in conjunction with CAD and virtual reality simulations), might be the better model for designing electrate-centred projects rather than writing or even the script. The proliferation of ‘McMansions’ across many Australian suburbs during the 1990s (generally, oversized domestic buildings designed in the abstract with little or no thought to the above mentioned elements, on bulldozed sites, with powerful air-conditioning systems, and no verandas or roof eves to speak of) demonstrates the continuing influence of a universal, centralising dogma in the realm of built place. As summer temperatures start to climb into the 40°C range all these air-conditioners start to hum in unison, which in turn raises the susceptibility of the supporting infrastructure to collapse under the weight of an overbearing electrical load. The McMansion is a clear example of a built form that is envisioned more so in a drafting room, a space where the architect is remote-sensing the locational specificities. In this envisioning (driven more by a direct line-of-sight idiom dominant in “flat datum” and economic considerations rather than architectural or experiential ones), the tactile is subordinated, which is the subject of Frampton’s sixth point: It is symptomatic of the priority given to sight that we find it necessary to remind ourselves that the tactile is an important dimension in the perception of built form. One has in mind a whole range of complementary sensory perceptions which are registered by the labile body: the intensity of light, darkness, heat and cold; the feeling of humidity; the aroma of material; the almost palpable presence of masonry as the body senses it own confinement; the momentum of an induced gait and the relative inertia of the body as it traverses the floor; the echoing resonance of our own footfall. (28) The point here is clear: in its wider recognition of, and the foregrounding of my body’s full range of sensate capacities in relation to both natural and built space, the critical regionalist approach to built form spreads its meaning-making capacities across a broader range of knowledge modalities. This tactility is further elaborated in more thoroughly personal ways by Margaret Morse in her illuminating essay, “Home: Smell, Taste, Posture, Gleam”. Paradoxically, this synaesthetic, syncretic approach to bodily meaning-making in a built place, regional milieu intensely concentrates the site-centred locus of everyday life, while simultaneously, the electronic knowledge that increasingly underpins it expands both my body’s and its region’s knowledge-making possibilities into a global gestalt, sometimes even a cosmological one. It is a paradoxical transformation that makes us look anew at social, cultural and political givens, even objective and empirical understandings, especially as they are articulated through national frames of reference. Domestic built space then is a kind of micro-version of the multi-function polis where work, pleasure, family, rest, public display and privacy intermingle. So in both this reduction and expansion in the constitution of domestic home life, one that increasingly represents the location of the production of knowledge, built place represents a concentration of energy that forces us to re-imagine border-making, order, and the dynamic interplay of nomadic movement and sedentary return, a point that echoes Nicolas Rothwell’s comment that “every exile has in it a homecoming” (80). Albeit, this is a knowledge-making milieu with an expanded range of modalities incorporated and expressed through a wide range of bodily intensities not simply cognitive ones. Much of the ambiguous discontent manifested in McMansion style domiciles across many Western countries might be traced to the fact that their occupants have had little or no say in the way those domiciles have been designed and/or constructed. In Heidegger’s terms, they have not thought deeply enough about “dwelling” in that building, although with the advent of the media room the question of whether a “building” securely borders both “dwelling” and “thinking” is now open to question. As anxieties over border-making at all scales intensifies, the complexities and un/sureties of natural and built space take ever greater hold of the psyche, sometimes through the advance of a “high level of critical self-consciousness”, a process Frampton describes as a “double mediation” of world culture and local conditions (21). Nearly all commentators warn of a nostalgic, romantic or a sentimental regionalism, the sum total of which is aimed at privileging the local/regional and is sometimes utilised as a means of excluding the global or universal, sometimes even the national (Berry 67). Critical regionalism is itself a mediating factor between these dispositions, working its methods and practices through my own psyche into the local, the regional, the national and the global, rejecting and/or accepting elements of these domains, as my own specific context, in its multiplicity, demands it. If the politico-economic and cultural dimensions of this global/regional world have tended to undermine the process of border-making across a range of scales, we can see in domestic forms of built place the intense residue of both their continuing importance and an increased dependency on this electro-mediated world. This is especially apparent in those domiciles whose media rooms (with their satellite dishes, telephone lines, computers, television sets, games consuls, and music stereos) are connecting them to it in virtuality if not in reality. Indeed, the thought emerges (once again keeping in mind Eric Leed’s remark on the literate-configured sense of autonomy that is further enhanced by a separate physical address and residence) that the intense importance attached to domestically orientated built place by globally/regionally orientated peoples will figure as possibly the most viable means via which this sense of autonomy will transfer to electronic forms of knowledge. If, however, this here domestic habitué turns his gaze away from the screen that transports me into this global/regional milieu and I focus my attention on the physicality of the building in which I dwell, I once again stand in the presence of another beginning. This other beginning is framed diagrammatologically by the building’s architectural plans (usually conceived in either an in-situ, autochthonous, or a universal manner), and is a graphical conception that anchors my body in country long after the architects and builders have packed up their tools and left. This is so regardless of whether a home is built, bought, rented or squatted in. Ihab Hassan writes that, “Home is not where one is pushed into the light, but where one gathers it into oneself to become light” (417), an aphorism that might be rephrased as follows: “Home is not where one is pushed into the country, but where one gathers it into oneself to become country.” For the in-and-out-and-around-and-about domestic dweller of the twenty-first century, then, home is where both regional and global forms of country decisively enter the soul via the conduits of the virtuality of digital flows and the reality of architectural footings. Acknowledgements I’m indebted to both David Fosdick and Phil Roe for alerting me to the importance to the Fremantle Dockers Football Club. The research and an original draft of this essay were carried out under the auspices of a PhD scholarship from Central Queensland University, and from whom I would also like to thank Denis Cryle and Geoff Danaher for their advice. References Benjamin, Walter. “Paris — the Capital of the Nineteenth Century.” Charles Baudelaire: A Lyric Poet in the Era of High Capitalism. Trans. Quintin Hoare. London: New Left Books, 1973. 155–176. Bennett, Tony, Michael Emmison and John Frow. Accounting for Tastes: Australian Everyday Cultures. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1999. Berry, Wendell. “The Regional Motive.” A Continuous Harmony: Essays Cultural and Agricultural. San Diego: Harcourt Brace. 63–70. Casey, Edward S. The Fate of Place: A Philosophical History. Berkeley: U of California P, 1997. Deleuze, Gilles and Félix Guattari. A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia. Trans. Brian Massumi. Minneapolis: U of Minneapolis P, 1987. Deleuze, Gilles. “The Diagram.” The Deleuze Reader. Ed. Constantin Boundas. Trans. Constantin Boundas and Jacqueline Code. New York: Columbia UP, 1993. 193–200. Frampton, Kenneth. “Towards a Critical Regionalism: Six Points for an Architecture of Resistance.” The Anti-Aesthetic: Essays on Post-Modern Culture. Ed. Hal Foster. Port Townsend: Bay Press, 1983. 16–30. Gadamer, Hans-Georg. “Idea and Reality in Plato’s Timaeus.” Dialogue and Dialectic: Eight Hermeneutical Studies on Plato. Trans. P. Christopher Smith. New Haven: Yale UP, 1980. 156–193. Hassan, Ihab. “How Australian Is It?” The Best Australian Essays. Ed. Peter Craven. Melbourne: Black Inc., 2000. 405–417. Heidegger, Martin. “Building Dwelling Thinking.” Poetry, Language, Thought. Trans. Albert Hofstadter. New York: Harper and Row, 1971. 145–161. Hughes, John. The Idea of Home: Autobiographical Essays. Sydney: Giramondo, 2004. Iyer, Pico. “Australia 1988: Five Thousand Miles from Anywhere.” Falling Off the Map: Some Lonely Places of the World. London: Jonathon Cape, 1993. 173–190. “Keeping Track.” Docker, Official Magazine of the Fremantle Football Club. Edition 3, September (2005): 21. Leed, Eric. “‘Voice’ and ‘Print’: Master Symbols in the History of Communication.” The Myths of Information: Technology and Postindustrial Culture. Ed. Kathleen Woodward. Madison, Wisconsin: Coda Press, 1980. 41–61. Lefaivre, Liane and Alexander Tzonis. “The Suppression and Rethinking of Regionalism and Tropicalism After 1945.” Tropical Architecture: Critical Regionalism in the Age of Globalization. Eds. Alexander Tzonis, Liane Lefaivre and Bruno Stagno. Chichester, West Sussex: Wiley-Academy, 2001. 14–58. Lefaivre, Liane and Alexander Tzonis. Critical Regionalism: Architecture and Identity in a Globalized World. New York: Prestel, 2003. Lynch, Kevin. Managing the Sense of a Region. Cambridge, Massachusetts: MIT P, 1976. Mitchell, W. J. T. “Diagrammatology.” Critical Inquiry 7.3 (1981): 622–633. Morse, Margaret. “Home: Smell, Taste, Posture, Gleam.” Home, Exile, Homeland: Film, Media, and the Politics of Place. Ed. Hamid Naficy. New York and London: Routledge, 1999. 63–74. Plato. Timaeus and Critias. Trans. Desmond Lee. Harmondsworth: Penguin Classics, 1973. Porteous, J. Douglas. “Home: The Territorial Core.” Geographical Review LXVI (1976): 383-390. Rothwell, Nicolas. Wings of the Kite-Hawk: A Journey into the Heart of Australia. Sydney: Pidador, 2003. Sallis, John. Chorology: On Beginning in Plato’s Timaeus. Bloomington: Indianapolis UP, 1999. Scott, Allen J. Regions and the World Economy: The Coming Shape of Global Production, Competition, and Political Order. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998. Storper, Michael. The Regional World: Territorial Development in a Global Economy. New York: The Guildford Press, 1997. Ulmer, Gregory L. Heuretics: The Logic of Invention. New York: John Hopkins UP, 1994. Ulmer, Gregory. Internet Invention: Literacy into Electracy. Longman: Boston, 2003. Wilken, Rowan. “Diagrammatology.” Illogic of Sense: The Gregory Ulmer Remix. Eds. Darren Tofts and Lisa Gye. Alt-X Press, 2007. 48–60. Available at http://www.altx.com/ebooks/ulmer.html. (Retrieved 12 June 2007)

Property as both an idea and a practice has been interpreted through the prism of a liberal, law and economics paradigm since at least the 18th century. This dominant (and domineering) perspective stresses the primacy of individualism, the power of exclusion, and the values of private commodity. By contrast, concepts of property that evolved out of the counterculture of the 1960s and early 1970s challenged this hegemony. Countercultural, or Aquarian, ideas of property stressed pre-liberal, long forgotten property norms such as sociability, community, inclusion and personhood, and contested a private uniformity that seemed “totalizing and universalizing” (Blomley, Unsettling 102). This paper situates what it terms “Aquarian property” in the context of emergent property theory in the 1960s and 1970s, and the propertied practices these new theories engendered. Importantly, this paper also grounds Aquarian ideas of property to location. As legal geographers observe, the law inexorably occurs in place as well as time. “Nearly every aspect of law is located, takes place, is in motion, or has some spatial frame of reference” (Braverman et al. 1). Property’s radical yet simultaneously ancient alter-narrative found fertile soil where the countercultural experiment flourished. In Australia, one such place was the green, sub-tropical landscape of the New South Wales Northern Rivers, home of the 1973 Australian Union of Student’s Aquarius Festival at Nimbin. The Counterculture and Property Theory Well before the “Age of Aquarius” entered western youth consciousness (Munro-Clark 56), and 19 years before the Nimbin Aquarius Festival, US legal scholar Felix Cohen defined property in seminally private and exclusionary terms. To the world: Keep off X unless you have my permission, which I may grant or withhold.Signed: Private citizenEndorsed: The state. (374) Cohen’s formula was private property at its 1950s apogee, an unambiguous expression of its centrality to post-war materialism. William Blackstone’s famous trope of property as “that sole and despotic dominion” had become self-fulfilling (Rose, Canons). Why had this occurred? What had made property so narrow and instrumentalist to a private end? Several property theorists identify the enclosure period in the 17th and 18th centuries as seminal to this change (Blomley, Law; Graham). The enclosures, and their discourse of improvement and modernity, saw ancient common rights swept away in favour of the liberal private right. Property diversity was supplanted by monotony, group rights by the individual, and inclusion by exclusion. Common property rights were rights of shared use, traditionally agrarian incidents enjoyed through community membership. However, for the proponents of enclosure, common rights stood in the way of progress. Thus, what was once a vested right (such as the common right to glean) became a “mere practice”, condemned by its “universal promiscuity” and perceptions of vagrancy (Buck 17-8). What was once sited to context, to village and parish, evolved into abstraction. And what had meaning for person and place, “a sense of self; […] a part of a tribe’ (Neeson 180), became a tradable commodity, detached and indifferent to the consequences of its adverse use (Leopold). These were the transformed ideas of property exported to so-called “settler” societies, where colonialists demanded the secure property rights denied to them at home. In the common law tradition, a very modern yet selective amnesia took hold, a collective forgetting of property’s shared and sociable past (McLaren). Yet, property as commodity proved to be a narrow, one-sided account of property, an unsatisfactory “half right” explanation (Alexander 2) that omits inconvenient links between ownership on the one hand, and self and place on the other. Pioneering US conservationist Aldo Leopold detected as much a few years before Felix Cohen’s defining statement of private dominance. In Leopold’s iconic A Sand County Almanac, he wrote presciently of the curious phenomenon of hardheaded farmers replanting selected paddocks with native wildflowers. As if foreseeing what the next few decades may bring, Leopold describes a growing resistance to the dominant property paradigm: I call it Revolt – revolt against the tedium of the merely economic attitude towards land. We assume that because we had to subjugate the land to live on it, the best farm is therefore the one most completely tamed. These […] farmers have learned from experience that the wholly tamed farm offers not only a slender livelihood but a constricted life. (188)By the early 1960s, frustrations over the constrictions of post-war life were given voice in dissenting property literature. Affirming that property is a social institution, emerging ideas of property conformed to the contours of changing values (Singer), and the countercultural zeitgeist sweeping America’s universities (Miller). Thus, in 1964, Charles Reich saw property as the vanguard for a new civic compact, an ambitious “New Property” that would transform “government largess” into a property right to address social inequity. For Joseph Sax, property scholar and author of a groundbreaking citizen’s manifesto, the assertion of public property rights were critical to the protection of the environment (174). And in 1972, to Christopher Stone, it seemed a natural property incident that trees should enjoy equivalent standing to legal persons. In an age when “progress” was measured by the installation of plastic trees in Los Angeles median strips (Tribe), jurists aspired to new ideas of property with social justice and environmental resonance. Theirs was a scholarly “Revolt” against the tedium of property as commodity, an act of resistance to the centuries-old conformity of the enclosures (Blomley, Law). Aquarian Theory in Propertied Practice Imagining new property ideas in theory yielded in practice a diverse Aquarian tenure. In the emerging communes and intentional communities of the late 1960s and early 1970s, common property norms were unwittingly absorbed into their ethos and legal structure (Zablocki; Page). As a “way out of a dead-end future” (Smith and Crossley), a generation of young, mostly university-educated people sought new ways to relate to land. Yet, as Benjamin Zablocki observed at the time, “there is surprisingly little awareness among present-day communitarians of their historical forebears” (43). The alchemy that was property and the counterculture was given form and substance by place, time, geography, climate, culture, and social history. Unlike the dominant private paradigm that was placeless and universal, the tenurial experiments of the counter-culture were contextual and diverse. Hence, to generalise is to invite the problematic. Nonetheless, three broad themes of Aquarian property are discernible. First, property ceased being a vehicle for the acquisition of private wealth; rather it invested self-meaning within a communitarian context, “a sense of self [as] a part of a tribe.” Second, the “back to the land” movement signified a return to the country, an interregnum in the otherwise unidirectional post-enclosure drift to the city. Third, Aquarian property was premised on obligation, recognising that ownership was more than a bundle of autonomous rights, but rights imbricated with a corresponding duty to land health. Like common property and its practices of sustained yield, Aquarian owners were environmental stewards, with inter-connected responsibilities to others and the earth (Page). The counterculture was a journey in self-fulfillment, a search for personal identity amidst the empowerment of community. Property’s role in the counterculture was to affirm the under-regarded notion of property as propriety; where ownership fostered well lived and capacious lives in flourishing communities (Alexander). As Margaret Munro-Clark observed of the early 1970s, “the enrichment of individual identity or selfhood [is] the distinguishing mark of the current wave of communitarianism” (33). Or, as another 1970s settler remarked twenty years later, “our ownership means that we can’t liquefy our assets and move on with any appreciable amount of capital. This arrangement has many advantages; we don’t waste time wondering if we would be better off living somewhere else, so we have commitment to place and community” (Metcalf 52). In personhood terms, property became “who we are, how we live” (Lismore Regional Gallery), not a measure of commoditised worth. Personhood also took legal form, manifested in early title-holding structures, where consensus-based co-operatives (in which capital gain was precluded) were favoured ideologically over the capitalist, majority-rules corporation (Munro-Clark). As noted, Aquarian property was also predominantly rural. For many communitarians, the way out of a soulless urban life was to abandon its difficulties for the yearnings of a simpler rural idyll (Smith and Crossley). The 1970s saw an extraordinary return to the physicality of land, measured by a willingness to get “earth under the nails” (Farran). In Australia, communities proliferated on the NSW Northern Rivers, in Western Australia’s southwest, and in the rural hinterlands behind Queensland’s Sunshine Coast and Cairns. In New Zealand, intentional communities appeared on the rural Coromandel Peninsula, east of Auckland, and in the Golden Bay region on the remote northwestern tip of the South Island. In all these localities, land was plentiful, the climate seemed sunny, and the landscape soulful. Aquarians “bought cheap land in beautiful places in which to opt out and live a simpler life [...] in remote backwaters, up mountains, in steep valleys, or on the shorelines of wild coastal districts” (Sargisson and Sargent 117). Their “hard won freedom” was to escape from city life, suffused by a belief that “the city is hardly needed, life should spring out of the country” (Jones and Baker 5). Aquarian property likewise instilled environmental ethics into the notion of land ownership. Michael Metzger, writing in 1975 in the barely minted Ecology Law Quarterly, observed that humankind had forgotten three basic ecological laws, that “everything is connected to everything else”, that “everything must go somewhere”, and that “nature knows best” (797). With an ever-increasing focus on abstraction, the language of private property: enabled us to create separate realities, and to remove ourselves from the natural world in which we live to a cerebral world of our own creation. When we act in accord with our artificial world, the disastrous impact of our fantasies upon the natural world in which we live is ignored. (796)By contrast, Aquarian property was intrinsically contextual. It revolved around the owner as environmental steward, whose duty it was “to repair the ravages of previous land use battles, and to live in accord with the natural environment” (Aquarian Archives). Reflecting ancient common rights, Aquarian property rights internalised norms of prudence, proportionality and moderation of resource use (Rose, Futures). Simply, an ecological view of land ownership was necessary for survival. As Dr. Moss Cass, the Federal environment minister wrote in the preface to The Way Out: Radical Alternatives in Australia, ‘”there is a common conviction that something is rotten at the core of conventional human existence.” Across the Tasman, the sense of latent environmental crisis was equally palpable, “we are surrounded by glistening surfaces and rotten centres” (Jones and Baker 5). Property and Countercultural Place and Time In the emerging discipline of legal geography, the law and its institutions (such as property) are explained through the prism of spatiotemporal context. What even more recent law and geography scholarship argues is that space is privileged as “theoretically interesting” while “temporality is reduced to empirical history” (Braverman et al. 53). This part seeks to consider the intersection of property, the counterculture, and time and place without privileging either the spatial or temporal dimensions. It considers simply the place of Nimbin, New South Wales, in early May 1973, and how property conformed to the exigencies of both. Legal geographers also see property through the theory of performance. Through this view, property is a “relational effect, not a prior ground, that is brought into being by the very act of performance” (Blomley, Performing 13). In other words, doing does not merely describe or represent property, but it enacts, such that property becomes a reality through its performance. In short, property is because it does. Performance theory is liberating (Page et al) because it concentrates not on property’s arcane rules and doctrines, nor on the legal geographer’s alleged privileging of place over time, but on its simple doing. Thus, Nicholas Blomley sees private property as a series of constant and reiterative performances: paying rates, building fences, registering titles, and so on. Adopting this approach, Aquarian property is described as a series of performances, seen through the prism of the legal practitioner, and its countercultural participants. The intersection of counterculture and property law implicated my family in its performative narrative. My father had been a solicitor in Nimbin since 1948; his modest legal practice was conducted from the side annexe of the School of Arts. Equipped with a battered leather briefcase and a trusty portable typewriter, like clockwork, he drove the 20 miles from Lismore to Nimbin every Saturday morning. I often accompanied him on his weekly visits. Forty-one years ago, in early May 1973, we drove into town to an extraordinary sight. Seen through ten-year old eyes, surreal scenes of energy, colour, and longhaired, bare-footed young people remain vivid. At almost the exact halfway point in my father’s legal career, new ways of thinking about property rushed headlong and irrevocably into his working life. After May 1973, dinnertime conversations became very different. Gone was the mundane monopoly of mortgages, subdivisions, and cottage conveyancing. The topics now ranged to hippies, communes, co-operatives and shared ownerships. Property was no longer a dull transactional monochrome, a lifeless file bound in pink legal tape. It became an idea replete with diversity and innovation, a concept populated with interesting characters and entertaining, often quirky stories. If property is a narrative (Rose, Persuasion), then the micro-story of property on the NSW Northern Rivers became infinitely more compelling and interesting in the years after Aquarius. For the practitioner, Aquarian property involved new practices and skills: the registration of co-operatives, the drafting of shareholder deeds that regulated the use of common lands, the settling of idealistic trusts, and the ever-increasing frequency of visits to the Nimbin School of Arts every working Saturday. For the 1970s settler in Nimbin, performing Aquarian property took more direct and lived forms. It may have started by reading the open letter that festival co-organiser Graeme Dunstan wrote to the Federal Minister for Urban Affairs, Tom Uren, inviting him to Nimbin as a “holiday rather than a political duty”, and seeking his support for “a community group of 100-200 people to hold a lease dedicated to building a self-sufficient community [...] whose central design principles are creative living and ecological survival” (1). It lay in the performances at the Festival’s Learning Exchange, where ideas of philosophy, organic farming, alternative technology, and law reform were debated in free and unstructured form, the key topics of the latter being abortion and land. And as the Festival came to its conclusion, it was the gathering at the showground, titled “After Nimbin What?—How will the social and environmental experiment at Nimbin effect the setting up of alternative communities, not only in the North Coast, but generally in Australia” (Richmond River Historical Society). In the days and months after Aquarius, it was the founding of new communities such as Co-ordination Co-operative at Tuntable Creek, described by co-founder Terry McGee in 1973 as “a radical experiment in a new way of life. The people who join us […] have to be prepared to jump off the cliff with the certainty that when they get to the bottom, they will be all right” (Munro-Clark 126; Cock 121). The image of jumping off a cliff is a metaphorical performance that supposes a leap into the unknown. While orthodox concepts of property in land were left behind, discarded at the top, the Aquarian leap was not so much into the unknown, but the long forgotten. The success of those communities that survived lay in the innovative and adaptive ways in which common forms of property fitted into registered land title, a system otherwise premised on individual ownership. Achieved through the use of outside private shells—title-holding co-operatives or companies (Page)—inside the shell, the norms and practices of common property were inclusively facilitated and performed (McLaren; Rose, Futures). In 2014, the performance of Aquarian property endures, in the dozens of intentional communities in the Nimbin environs that remain a witness to the zeal and spirit of the times and its countercultural ideals. Conclusion The Aquarian idea of property had profound meaning for self, community, and the environment. It was simultaneously new and old, radical as well as ancient. It re-invented a pre-liberal, pre-enclosure idea of property. For property theory, its legacy is its imaginings of diversity, the idea that property can take pluralistic forms and assert multiple values, a defiant challenge to the dominant paradigm. Aquarian property offers rich pickings compared to the pauperised private monotone. Over 41 years ago, in the legal geography that was Nimbin, New South Wales, the imaginings of property escaped the conformity of enclosure. The Aquarian age represented a moment in “thickened time” (Braverman et al 53), when dissenting theory became practice, and the idea of property indelibly changed for a handful of serendipitous actors, the unscripted performers of a countercultural narrative faithful to its time and place. References Alexander, Gregory. Commodity & Propriety: Competing Visions of Property in American Legal Thought 1776-1970. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1999. Aquarian Archives. "Report into Facilitation of a Rural Intentional Community." Lismore, NSW: Southern Cross University. Blomley, Nicholas. Law, Space, and the Geographies of Power. New York: Guildford Press, 1994. Blomley, Nicholas. Unsettling the City: Urban Land and the Politics of Property. New York: Routledge, 2004. Blomley, Nicholas. “Performing Property, Making the World.” Social Studies Research Network 2053656. 5 Aug. 2013 ‹http://ssrn.com/abstract=2053656›. Braverman, Irus, Nicholas Blomley, David Delaney, and Sandy Kedar. The Expanding Spaces of Law: A Timely Legal Geography. Stanford: Stanford UP, 2014. Buck, Andrew. The Making of Australian Property Law. Sydney: Federation Press, 2006. Cock, Peter. Alternative Australia: Communities of the Future. London: Quartet Books, 1979. Cohen, Felix. “Dialogue on Private Property.” Rutgers Law Review 9 (1954): 357-387. Dunstan, Graeme. “A Beginning Rather than an End.” The Nimbin Good Times 27 Mar. 1973: 1. Farran, Sue. “Earth under the Nails: The Extraordinary Return to the Land.” Modern Studies in Property Law. Ed. Nicholas Hopkins. 7th edition. Oxford: Hart, 2013. 173-191. Graham, Nicole. Lawscape: Property, Environment, Law. Abingdon: Routledge, 2011. Jones, Tim, and Ian Baker. A Hard Won Freedom: Alternative Communities in New Zealand. Auckland: Hodder & Staughton, 1975. Leopold, Aldo. A Sand County Almanac with Other Essays on Conservation from Round River. New York: Ballantine Books, 1966. Lismore Regional Gallery. “Not Quite Square: The Story of Northern Rivers Architecture.” Exhibition, 13 Apr. to 2 June 2013. McLaren, John. “The Canadian Doukhobors and the Land Question: Religious Communalists in a Fee Simple World.” Land and Freedom: Law Property Rights and the British Diaspora. Eds. Andrew Buck, John McLaren and Nancy Wright. Farnham: Ashgate Publishing, 2001. 135-168. Metcalf, Bill. Co-operative Lifestyles in Australia: From Utopian Dreaming to Communal Reality. Sydney: UNSW Press, 1995. Miller, Timothy. The 60s Communes: Hippies and Beyond. Syracuse: Syracuse UP, 1999. Munro-Clark, Margaret. Communes in Rural Australia: The Movement since 1970. Sydney: Hale & Iremonger, 1986. Neeson, Jeanette M. Commoners: Common Right, Enclosure and Social Change in England, 1700-1820. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1996. Page, John. “Common Property and the Age of Aquarius.” Griffith Law Review 19 (2010): 172-196. Page, John, Ann Brower, and Johannes Welsh. “The Curious Untidiness of Property and Ecosystem Services: A Hybrid Method of Measuring Place.” Pace Environmental Law Rev. 32 (2015): forthcoming. Reich, Charles. “The New Property.” Yale Law Journal 73 (1964): 733-787. Richmond River Historical Society Archives. “After Nimbin What?” Nimbin Aquarius file, flyer. Lismore, NSW. Rose, Carol M. Property and Persuasion Essays on the History, Theory, and Rhetoric of Ownership. Boulder: Westview, 1994. Rose, Carol M. “The Several Futures of Property: Of Cyberspace and Folk Tales, Emission Trades and Ecosystems.” Minnesota Law Rev. 83 (1998-1999): 129-182. Rose, Carol M. “Canons of Property Talk, or Blackstone’s Anxiety.” Yale Law Journal 108 (1998): 601-632. Sargisson, Lucy, and Lyman Tower Sargent. Living in Utopia: New Zealand’s Intentional Communities. Aldershot: Ashgate Publishing, 2004. Sax, Joseph L. Defending the Environment: A Strategy for Citizen Action. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1971. Singer, Joseph. “No Right to Exclude: Public Accommodations and Private Property.” Nw. U.L.Rev. 90 (1995): 1283-1481. Smith, Margaret, and David Crossley, eds. The Way Out: Radical Alternatives in Australia. Melbourne: Lansdowne Press, 1975. Stone, Christopher. “Should Trees Have Standing? Toward Legal Rights for Natural Objects.” Southern Cal. L. Rev. 45 (1972): 450-501. Tribe, Laurence H. “Ways Not to Think about Plastic Trees: New Foundations for Environmental Law.” Yale Law Journal 83 (1973-1974): 1315-1348. Zablocki, Benjamin. Alienation and Charisma: A Study of Contemporary American Communes. New York: Free Press, 1980.

Central to this research lays the concept of private sector-led urban development projects (Heurkens, 2010). Such projects involve project developers taking a leading role and local authorities adopting a facilitating role, in managing the development of an urban area, based on a clear public-private role division. Such a development strategy is quite common in Anglo-Saxon urban development practices, but is less known in Continental European practices. Nonetheless, since the beginning of the millennium such a development strategy also occurred in the Netherlands in the form of ‘concessions’. However, remarkably little empirical knowledge is available about how public and private actors collaborate on and manage private sector-led urban development projects. Moreover, it remains unclear what the effects of such projects are. This dissertation provides an understanding of the various characteristics of private sector-led urban development projects by conducting empirical case study research in the institutional contexts of the Netherlands and the UK. The research provides an answer to the following research question: What can we learn from private sector-led urban development projects in the Netherlands and UK in terms of the collaborative and managerial roles of public and private actors, and the effects of their (inter)actions? Indications for a market-oriented Dutch urban development practice Urban development practice in the Netherlands has been subject to changes pointing towards more private sector involvement in the built environment in the past decades. Although the current economic recession might indicate otherwise, there are several motives that indicate a continuation of private sector involvement and a private leadership role in Dutch urban development projects in the future. First, a shift towards more market-oriented development practice is the result of an evolutionary process of increased ‘neoliberalization’ and the adoption of Anglo-Saxon principles in Dutch society. Despite its Rhineland roots with a focus on welfare provision, in the Netherlands several neoliberal principles (privatization, decentralization, deregulation) have been adopted by government and incorporated in the management of organizations (Bakker et al., 2005). Hence, market institutionalization on the one hand, and rising civic emancipation on the other, in current Western societies prevents a return towards hierarchical governance. Second, the result of such changes is the emergence of a market-oriented type of planning practice based on the concept of ‘development planning’. Public-Private Partnerships and the ‘forward integration’ of market parties (De Zeeuw, 2007) enforce the role of market actors. In historical perspective, Boelens et al. (2006) argue that Dutch spatial planning always has been characterized by public-private collaborations in which governments facilitated private and civic entrepreneurship. Therefore, post-war public-led spatial planning with necessary government intervention was a ‘temporary hiccup’, an exception to the rule. Third, the European Commission expresses concerns about the hybrid role of public actors in Dutch institutionalized PPP joint ventures. EU legislation opts for formal public-private role divisions in realizing urban projects based on Anglo-Saxon law that comply with the legislative tendering principles of competition, transparency, equality, and public legitimacy. Fourth, experiences with joint ventures in the Netherlands are less positive as often is advocated. Such institutionalized public-private entities have seldom generated the assumed added value, caused by misconceptions about the objectives of both partners grounded in incompatible value systems. This results in contra-productive levels of distrust, time-consuming partnership formations, lack of transparency, and compromising decision-making processes (Teisman & Klijn, 2002), providing a need for other forms of collaboration. Finally, current financial retrenchments in the public sector and debates about the possible abundance of Dutch active land development policies point towards a lean and mean government that moves away from risk-bearing participation and investment in urban projects and leaves this to the market. Importantly, Van der Krabben (2011b) argues that the Dutch active public land development policies can be considered as an international exception, and advocates for facilitating land development policies. In this light, it becomes highly relevant to study private sector-led urban development as a future Dutch urban development strategy. Integrative urban management approach This research is rooted in the research school of Urban Area Development within the Department of Real Estate and Housing at the Faculty of Architecture (Delft University of Technology). It is a relatively young academic domain which views urban development most profoundly as a complex management assignment (Bruil et al., 2004; Franzen et al., 2011). This academic school uses an integrative perspective with a strong practice-orientation and carries out solution-oriented design research. Here, the integration involves bridging various actor interests, spatial functions, spatial scales, academic domains, knowledge and skills, development goals, and links process with content aspects. Such a perspective does justice to complex societal processes. Therefore it provides a fruitful ground for studying urban development aimed at developing conceptual knowledge and product for science and practice. Such integrative perspective and practice-orientation forms the basis of this research and has been applied in the following manner. In order to create an understanding of the roles of public and private actors in private sector-led urban development, this research takes a management perspective based on an integrative management approach. This involves viewing management more broadly as ‘any type of direct influencing’ urban development projects, and therefore aims at bridging often separated management theories (Osborne, 2000a). Hence, an integrative management approach assists in both understanding urban development practices and projects and constructing useful conceptual tools for practitioners and academics. Integrative approaches attempt to combine a number of different elements into a more holistic management approach (Black & Porter, 2000). Importantly, it does not view the management of projects in isolation but in its entire complexity and dynamics. Therefore, our management approach combines two integrative management theories; the open systems theory (De Leeuw, 2002) and contingency theory. The former provides opportunities to study the management of a project in a structured manner. The latter emphasizes that there is no universally effective way of managing and recognizes the importance of contextual circumstances. Hence, an integrative management approach favors incorporating theories from multiple academic domains such as political science, economics, law, business administration, and organizational and management concepts. Hence, it moves away from the classical academic division between planning theory and property theory, and organization and management theories. It positions itself in between such academic domains, and aims at bridging theoretical viewpoints by following the concept of planning ánd markets (Alexander, 2001) rather than concepts such as ‘planning versus markets’, public versus private sector, and organization versus management. Also, such an integrative view values the complexity and dynamics of empirical urban development practices. More specifically, this research studies urban development projects as object, as urban areas are the focus point of spatial intervention and public-private interaction (Daamen, 2010), and thus collaboration and management. Here, public planning processes and private development processes merge with each other. Thus, our research continues to build upon the importance of studying and reflecting on empirical practices and projects (e.g. Healey, 2006). In addition to these authors, this research does so by using meaningful integrative concepts that reflect empirical realities of urban projects. Thereby, this research serves to bridge management sciences with management practices (Van Aken, 2004; Mintzberg, 2010) through iterative processes of reflecting on science and practice. Moreover, the integrative management approach applied in this research assists in filling an academic gap, namely the lack of management knowledge about public-private interaction in urban development projects. Despite the vast amount of literature on the governance of planning practices (e.g. DiGaetano & Strom, 2003), and Public-Private Partnerships (e.g. Osborne, 2000b), remarkable little knowledge exists about what shifting public-private relationships mean for day-to-day management by public and private actors in development projects. Hence, here we follow the main argument made by public administration scholar Klijn (2008) who claims that it is such direct actor influence that brings about the most significant change to the built environment. An integrative urban management model (see Figure 2.3) based on the open systems approach has been constructed which forms a conceptual representation of empirical private sectorled urban development projects. This model serves as an analytical tool to comprehend the complexity of managing such projects. In this research, several theoretical insights about publicprivate relations and roles are used to understand different contextual and organizational factors that affect the management of private sector-led urban development projects. Hence, a project context exists within different often country-specific institutional environments (e.g. the Netherlands and UK). In this research, contextual aspects that to a degree determine the way public and private actors inter-organize urban projects, consist of economics & politics, governance cultures, and planning systems and policies. Hence, institutional values are deeply rooted in social welfare models (Nadin & Stead, 2008). For instance, the differences between Anglo-Saxon and Rhineland model principles also determine public-private relationships. However, the process of neoliberalization (Hackworth, 2007) and subsequent adaptation of neoliberal political ideologies (Harvey, 2005) has created quite similar governance arrangements in Western countries. Nevertheless, institutional rules incorporated in planning systems, laws and policies often remain country-specific. But, market-oriented planning, involving ‘planners as market actors’ (Adams & Tiesdell, 2010) intervening and operating within market systems, have become the most commonly shared feature of contemporary Western urban development practices (Carmona et al., 2009). In this research, the project organization focuses on institutional aspects and interorganizational arrangements that structure Public-Private Partnerships (Bult-Spiering & Dewulf, 2002). It involves studying organizational tasks and responsibilities, financial risks and revenues, and legal rules and requirements. Inter-organizational arrangements condition the way public and private actors manage projects. Hence, such arrangements can be placed on a public-private spectrum (Börzel & Risse, 2002) which indicates different power relations in terms of public and private autonomy and dominance (Savitch, 1997) in making planning decisions. These public-private power relations are reflected in different Public-Private Partnership arrangements (Bennet et al., 2000) in urban development projects. As a result, in some contexts these partnerships arrangements are formalized into organizational vehicles or legal contracts, in others there is an emphasis on informal partnerships and interaction. The lack of management knowledge on private sector-led urban development projects, and our view of management as any type of direct influencing, results in constructing a conceptual public-private urban management model (see Figure SUM.1). This model is based on both theoretical concepts and empirical reflection. In this research, the management of project processes by public and private actors contains applying both management activities and instruments. Project management (Wijnen et al., 2004) includes development stage-oriented initiating, designing, planning, and operating activities. Process management (Teisman, 2003) includes interaction-oriented negotiating, decision-making, and communicating activities. Management tools consist of legal-oriented shaping, regulating, stimulating, and capacity building planning tools (Adams et al., 2004). And management resources consist of crucial necessities (Burie, 1978) for realizing urban projects like land, capital and knowledge. In essence, all these management measures can be applied by public and private actors to influence (private sector-led) urban development projects. These management measures can be used by actors to reach project effects. In this research, project effects are perceived as judgment criteria for indicating the success of the management of private sector-led urban development projects. They consist of cooperation effectiveness, process efficiency, and spatial quality. Effectiveness involves the degree to which objectives are achieved and problems are resolved. Ef ficiency is the degree to which the process is considered as efficiently realizing projects within time and budget. Finally, spatial quality is the degree to which the project contributes to responding to user, experience and future values of involved actors (Hooijmeijer et al., 2001). Such process and product effects are a crucial addition to understand the results of private sector-led urban development projects. Comparative case study research using a lesson-drawing method This research systematically analyzes and compares private sector-led urban development cases in both the Netherlands and the UK in a specific methodological way. In essence, this study is an empirical comparative case study research using a lesson-drawing method. Hence, case studies allow for an empirical inquiry that investigates a contemporary phenomenon within its real life context (Yin, 2003). Such a qualitative approach is very suited for the purposes of this research as it enables revealing empirical collaborative and managerial mechanisms within private sector-led urban development projects. The reason to include studying the UK lies is the fact that it can be considered as a market-oriented development practice, from which valuable lessons can be drawn for the Netherlands. Thereby, this research places itself in a longer tradition of Dutch interests in UK planning and development (e.g. Hobma et al., 2008). Hence, this research aims at drawing lessons in the form of ‘inspiration’ from practices and projects, as opposed to the more far-reaching transplantation of spatial policies (e.g. Janssen-Jansen et al., 2008). However, in order to draw meaningful empirical lessons there is a need to indicate whether they are context-dependent or -independent. This requires systematically comparing the institutional planning practices of both countries by indicating differences and similarities between the Netherlands and the UK. Based on these methodological principles ten Dutch and two UK of private sector-led urban development cases are selected and studied. The Dutch cases focus on scope over depth aimed at sketching the phenomenon of ‘area concessions’ in both inner-city and urban fringe projects. The UK cases focus on depth over scope aimed at understanding the applicability of a private sector-led approach in complex large-scale inner-city projects. As techniques the case study research uses document reviews, semi-structured interviews, project visits, and data mapping. Comparing Dutch and UK planning and urban development practices The institutional context of urban development in the Netherlands and the UK shows some structural differences, despite the fact that such contexts are often subject to change. For instance, the Dutch planning system uses Napoleonic codified law based on a constitution with abstract law principles as rule, and a limited role of judicial power. The UK planning system is based on British common law lacking a constitution, and uses law-making-as-we-go as judges act as law-makers. In terms of spatial planning, the Netherlands is characterized by binding land use plans within a limited-imperative system based on legal certainty. Dutch spatial planning can be labelled as ‘permitted planning’ based on ‘comprehensive integrative model’ (Dühr et al., 2010) which involves hierarchically coordinated and related public sector spatial plans. UK spatial planning has no binding land use plan, places importance on material considerations based on discretionary authority and flexibility. Historically, UK’s spatial planning can be labelled as ‘development-oriented planning’ based on a ‘land use management model’ with a focus on public sector coordinated planning policies. Moreover, Dutch and UK urban development also differ in terms of public and private roles in organizing and managing development (Heurkens, 2009). In the Netherlands, local governments are active bodies using spatial plans, active land development policies and public investment to develop cities. The private sector often operates reactively and is historically focused on the physical realization of projects. In general, public-private decision-making processes are based on reaching consensus, development project coordination typically involves ‘collaboration models’, and management is focused on process as product outcomes. In the UK, local government uses relatively less regulations and investment to develop cities, thereby facilitating market parties. The development industry is a mature sector, actively initiating and investing in projects. Decision-making is characterized by negotiations, and the organization of projects is often based on a clear formal public-private role division. Despite such a generic Dutch-UK comparison being of crucial importance to this research, it does no justice to increasing similarities between European planning practices. Moreover, such institutional contexts evolve as a result of changing planning priorities in each country. For instance, some basic characteristics of the UK planning system attracted the attention of Dutch planners, including comprehensive principles for project coordination, private sector involvement and negotiations, options for the settlement of ‘planning gain’, packaging interests, development-oriented planning, and discretion for planning decisions (Spaans, 2005). Hence, such more market-oriented planning principles have become valuable and sometimes necessary mechanisms to effectively cope with an increasingly less public-led and more private sector-led Dutch urban development practice. Empirical findings from Dutch private sector-led urban development cases Urban development practice in the Netherlands since the year 2000 witnessed an increased use of the concession model. Hence, this is the Dutch definition for private sector-led urban development. It can best be characterized as a contract form between public and private parties which involves the transfer of risks, revenues, responsibilities for the plan, land and real estate development to private developers based on pre-defined set of public requirements (Gijzen, 2009). In theory (Van Rooy, 2007; Van de Klundert, 2008; Heurkens et al., 2008) this collaboration model holds promising advantages of being a more effective, efficient and transparent strategy to achieve a high quality built environment. Nonetheless, possible disadvantages like the lack of public ‘steering’, dependency of market actors and circumstances, inflexible contracts, a project management orientation, and a stern public-private relationship also are mentioned. Moreover, conditions for the application of concessions in theory involve a manageable project scale and duration, minimal political and societal complexity, and maximum freedom for private actors. Motives for choosing concessions are the lack of public labor capacity and financial development means, risk transfer to private actors, increasing private initiatives and private land ownership. Hence, in theory public and private roles in the concession model are considered as strictly separated. However, there is a lack of structural empirical understanding and evidence for such theoretical assumptions. Therefore, empirical cases in Amsterdam, The Hague, Enschede, Maassluis, Middelburg, Naaldwijk, Rotterdam, Tilburg, Utrecht, and Velsen (see Table 5.1) are carried out. This includes studying private sector-led projects in both inner-city and urban fringe locations. The main conclusions based on cross-case study findings of these ten Dutch projects are highlighted here. Notice that public-private interaction and collaboration remains of vital importance in Dutch private sector-led urban development projects. Despite the formal contractual separation of public and private tasks and responsibilities, in practice close informal cooperation can be witnessed, especially in the early development stages. Moreover, public actors do not remain as risk free as theory suggests, because unfavorable market circumstances can cause development delays affecting the living environment of inhabitants. Furthermore, it seems that constructing and using flexible public requirements with some non-negotiable rules is an effective condition for realizing public objectives during the process. In terms of management, most projects are hardly considered as solely private sector-led, as they involve a substantial amount of public management influence. For instance, project management activities include a dominant role of municipalities in initiating and operating the development. Process management activities are carried out by both actors, as they involve close public-private interactions. Management tools are mostly used by public actors to shape and regulate development with a limited conscious usage of stimulating and capacity building tools. Using the management resources land, capital and knowledge are mainly a private affair. In terms of effects, the concession model by actors is considered as an effective instrument, but not necessarily results in efficient processes. The general perception of public, private and civic actors about the project’s spatial quality level is positive. In addition, actors were asked about their cooperation experiences. Often mentioned problems include a ‘we against them relationship’, lack of public role consistency, thin line between plan judgment and control, public manager’s commitment and competency, communication with local communities, and lack of public management opportunities. Based on the empirical case studies, most conditions for applying concessions are confirmed. However, the successful inner-city development projects in Amsterdam and Enschede indicate that a private sector-led approach can also be applied to more complex urban development projects within cities. Empirical findings from UK’s private sector-led urban development cases Urban development practice in the UK often is labelled as urban regeneration. Historically, it is strongly shaped by neoliberal political ideology of the Conservative Thatcher government in the 1980s. But it also is influenced by New Labour ideologies favoring the Third Way (Giddens, 1998) aimed at aligning economic, social and environmental policies. However, as a result of these institutional characteristics, the UK is strongly shaped by the understanding that most development is undertaken by private interests or by public bodies acting very much like private interests (Nadin et al., 2008). In general, local authorities depend on initiatives and investments of property developers and investors, because public financial resources and planning powers to actively develop land are limited. As a result, development control of private developments is a concept deeply embedded in development practice. Several legal instruments such as Section 106 agreements are used to establish planning gain by asking developer contributions for public functions. Moreover, urban development in the UK has a strong informal partnership culture, and simultaneously builds upon a strict formal legal public-private role division. These UK urban development practice characteristics provide valid reasons to study private sector-led urban development projects in more detail. The empirical cases of private sector-led urban development projects in the UK are Bristol Harbourside and Liverpool One. They represent mid-2000s strategic inner-city developments with a mixed-use functional program, and therefore possible high complexity. As such, they are relevant urban projects for drawing lessons for the Netherlands. The main conclusions based on cross-case study findings of the UK projects are discussed here. The case contexts show that politics and the often changeable nature of planning policies can have a major influence on the organization and management of development projects. Hence, strong and effective political leadership is considered as a crucial success factor. Changing policies result in re-establishing development conditions resulting in new publicprivate negotiations. In terms of organization, the cases indeed show that local authorities do not take on development risks. Moreover, revenue sharing with private actors is absent or limited to what the actors agree upon in development packages. Furthermore, local authorities encourage all kinds of partnerships with other public, private or civic stakeholders in order to generate development support and raise funds. In terms of management, local authorities use different management measures to influence projects. The cases indicate that public actors are able to influence private sector-led developments and thereby achieve public planning objectives. Importantly, public actors use all kinds of managing tools to shape and stimulate development; they do not limit themselves to regulation but also build capacity for development. However, the largest share of managing the project takes place on behalf of project developers. Private actors manage projects from initial design towards even public space operation (Liverpool). Thereby, they work with long-term investment business models increasing private commitment. In terms of effects, the cases show that although the projects are carried out effectively and achieve high quality levels, the process efficiency lacks behind due to lengthy negotiations. In conclusion, the actors’ experiences with the private sector-led urban development projects indicate some problems including; the financial dependency on private actors, lack of financial incentives for public actors, lack of awareness of civic demands, lack of controlling public opposition, long negotiation processes, and absence of skilled public managers. Moreover, the actors indicate some crucial conditions for a private sectorled approach including; flexible general public guidelines, informal partnerships and joint working, public and private leadership roles and skills, professional attitude and long term commitment of private actors, involvement of local communities, separating public planning and development roles, handling political pressures, and favorable market circumstances. Empirical lessons, improvements and inspiration Some general conclusions from the Dutch and UK case comparison can be drawn (see Table 8.1). The influence of the project’s context in the UK seems to be higher than in the Netherlands, especially political powers and changeable policies influence projects. The organizational role division in UK projects seems to be stricter than in the Dutch projects, where public requirements sometimes are also formulated in more detail. The actor’s management in the Dutch cases is slightly less private sector-led than in the UK, where local authorities and developers are more aware of how to use management measures at their disposal. The project effects show quite some resemblance; effectiveness and spatial quality can be achieved, while efficiency remains difficult to achieve due to the negotiation culture. Here, important empirical lessons learned from cases in both countries are discussed aimed at formulating possible solutions for perceived Dutch problems. The problematic Dutch ‘we against them relationship’ between actors in the UK is handled by a close collaboration. Developers organize regular informative and interactive design meetings with local authorities, sharing ideas in a ‘joint-up working’ atmosphere. The lack of public role consistency in the UK is resolved by local authorities that develop a clear schedule of spatial requirements which provides certainty. Moreover, room for negotiations allows for the flexibility to react on changed circumstances. The thin line between judgment and control of plans is not commonly recognized in the UK cases. Local authorities tend to respect that developers need room to carry out development activities on their own professional insights, and merely control if developers deliver ‘product specifications’ in time and to agreed conditions. The commitment and competencies of public project managers are also mentioned as crucial factors in the UK. It involves managers connecting the project to the political and civic environment, and leaders committing themselves to project support through communication with local communities. The lack of public management seems to be a Dutch perceived difficulty as UK local authorities do not apply active land development policies and ‘hard’ management resources. Therefore, they influence development with both more consciously applied legal tools and ‘soft’ management skills such as negotiating. Recommended improvements mentioned by Dutch practitioners here are mirrored to possible support from the UK cases. The Dutch recommendation to cooperate in pre-development stages to create public project support and commitment finds support in the UK. Hence, despite a formal division of public and private responsibilities, in practice a lot of informal public-private interaction and collaboration takes place and seems necessary. Striving for public role consistency also is an appreciated value by developers in the UK. Working on the principle of ‘agreement is agreement’ creates certainty for developers, and less resistance and willingness to cooperate once highly relevant public issues are put on the table. Establishing clear process agreements with moments of control or discussion in the UK are handled with evaluation moments aimed at judging output, and planned meetings aimed at creating a dialogue about new insights. Connecting planning and development processes in the UK is handled by a municipal team consisting of political leaders and project managers that align development processes with administrative planning processes. A clear communication plan to involve local communities and businesses in the UK is handled by developers which involve relevant stakeholders in the decision-making process prior to planning applications for support and process efficiency. Finding public opportunities to influence development other than land and capital in the UK is handled through the use of several public planning tools and publicprivate negotiations. The UK cases also provided various inspirational lessons for the Netherlands. First, the construction and application of a public ‘management toolbox’ consisting of various planning tools that shape, stimulate, regulate and activate the market could assist local authorities to view management more integratively and use existing instruments more consciously. Second, choosing a private development partner with professional expertise, track record and local knowledge, instead of an economically lucrative private tender offer for private sector-led urban development projects, has the advantage of creating a cooperative relationship. The reason for this is that flexible development concepts rather than fixed development plans are indicators of a cooperative attitude of a developer. Third, enabling partnership agreements between public, private and civic actors aimed at creating wide support and long-term commitment by expressing development intentions assists pulling together development resources from both investors and central government. Fourth, privately-owned public space based on a land lease agreement containing public space conditions creates several financial advantages. For local authorities it eliminates public maintenance costs, and for private actors the operation of the area and maintaining high quality standards can be beneficial for real estate sales and returns. Fifth, the value increase-oriented investment model of a long-term private development investor rather than a short-term project-oriented developer with a trade-off model between time, costs and quality has advantages. Large amounts of upfront investment can more easily be financed as high quality environments and properties increase the area’s competitive position and investment returns. Sixth, local authorities can establish partnerships that actively apply for public funding alternatives such as lottery funds. Such funds secure the development of public functions and create interest for commercial actors to invest, which can result possibilities to negotiate development packages which can results in a planning gain for public actors. Seventh, public and private leadership styles on different organizational levels for inner-city development projects result in more efficient processes. Appointing strategictactical operating political leaders and private firm directors and tactical-operational public and private project leaders streamlines internal and external communication and shared project commitment and support. Finally, the UK shows that a private sector-led approach can successfully be applied to complex inner-city developments. Despite the complex social and political character, fragmented land ownership situation, and high remediation costs UK developers can deliver such projects succesfully. Conditions seem a professionally skilled and financially empowered developer, and active local authorities that facilitate market initiatives. The likelihood of transfer of the inspirational UK lessons depends on some Dutch institutional characteristics (economics & politics, governance culture, planning system and policies). However, most lessons are context-independent and thus can be applied in the Dutch urban development practice. But, Table 8.2 also shows some institutional context-dependent features that limit the transfer of UK findings to the Netherlands. This includes the general short-term scope of Dutch developers and the general wish from municipalities to hold ‘control’ over development projects. Reflections on safeguarding public interests & alternative financing instruments The epilogue contains conceptual reflections about alternative ways for safeguarding public interests and private financing instruments in line with the current social-economic climate. These reflections are not based on research findings but on an additional literature review that provides food for thought for public and private actors in urban development. Hence, safeguarding public interests is an important concern for public actors, especially in market-oriented planning and private sector-led urban development projects. In our pluralistic society it has become impossible for one actor to determine the public interest in all occasions. In line with societal development it would not only be socially-coherent for governments to engage private and civic actors in safeguarding public interests, but even a social necessity. Consciously applying different public interest safeguarding strategies based on both hierarchical, market and network mechanisms (De Bruijn & Dicke, 2006) provide this opportunity. By using a combination of legitimized hierarchical mechanisms, competitionoriented market mechanisms, and inter-action oriented network mechanisms, public values become institutionalized in private and civic sectors. Then, the role of public planning institutions in safeguarding increasing economic values, social cohesion and public health is to use both legitimate planning tools and accountable planning activities. It enables other actors to become both more responsible for and involved in their own built environment. In market-oriented planning and private sector-led urban projects, safeguarding public interest instruments include non-negotiable general planning standards which secure basic needs of civilians, and negotiable development conditions which create involvement of other actors. Non-negotiable safeguarding instruments include; public tender requirements, land use plans, planning permissions and financial claims. Negotiable safeguarding instruments include; contractual conditions, competitive dialogues, spatial quality plans, developer contributions, development incentives, performance indicators, and ownership (see Figure 10.2). The reliance of private investment in private sector-led urban development projects asks for exploring alternative financing instruments for urban projects with less reliance on credit capital. This is a crucial subject being the result of the effect the current economic situation has on the land and property market. Hence, it is widely acknowledged that in many development practices around the globe property investment for urban development has changed radically as a result of the international credit crisis and economic downturn (Parkinson et al., 2009). ‘New financial models’ have the attention of several Dutch practitioners (e.g. Van Rooy, 2011) and academics (e.g. Van der Krabben, 2011b). In the current Dutch urban development practice, one notices an increased interest in demand-driven development strategies promoting; bottom-up development initiatives, value-oriented investment strategies, and de-risked phasing of development, which potentially increase the feasibility of urban projects. A literature review indicates promising alternative financing instruments for Dutch urban development practice and private sector-led urban development projects, including; Tax Increment Financing, Temporary Development/Investment Grants, Lottery Funds, DBFM/ Concession Light, Crowd Funding, Urban Development Trusts, Business Improvement Districts, and Urban Reparcelling. These instruments have different features such as investment source, development incentives, organizational requirements and object conditions, which need to be taken into account by public and private actors once applied (see Table 10.3).

Central to this research lays the concept of private sector-led urban development projects (Heurkens, 2010). Such projects involve project developers taking a leading role and local authorities adopting a facilitating role, in managing the development of an urban area, based on a clear public-private role division. Such a development strategy is quite common in Anglo-Saxon urban development practices, but is less known in Continental European practices. Nonetheless, since the beginning of the millennium such a development strategy also occurred in the Netherlands in the form of ‘concessions’. However, remarkably little empirical knowledge is available about how public and private actors collaborate on and manage private sector-led urban development projects. Moreover, it remains unclear what the effects of such projects are. This dissertation provides an understanding of the various characteristics of private sector-led urban development projects by conducting empirical case study research in the institutional contexts of the Netherlands and the UK. The research provides an answer to the following research question: What can we learn from private sector-led urban development projects in the Netherlands and UK in terms of the collaborative and managerial roles of public and private actors, and the effects of their (inter)actions? Indications for a market-oriented Dutch urban development practice Urban development practice in the Netherlands has been subject to changes pointing towards more private sector involvement in the built environment in the past decades. Although the current economic recession might indicate otherwise, there are several motives that indicate a continuation of private sector involvement and a private leadership role in Dutch urban development projects in the future. First, a shift towards more market-oriented development practice is the result of an evolutionary process of increased ‘neoliberalization’ and the adoption of Anglo-Saxon principles in Dutch society. Despite its Rhineland roots with a focus on welfare provision, in the Netherlands several neoliberal principles (privatization, decentralization, deregulation) have been adopted by government and incorporated in the management of organizations (Bakker et al., 2005). Hence, market institutionalization on the one hand, and rising civic emancipation on the other, in current Western societies prevents a return towards hierarchical governance. Second, the result of such changes is the emergence of a market-oriented type of planning practice based on the concept of ‘development planning’. Public-Private Partnerships and the ‘forward integration’ of market parties (De Zeeuw, 2007) enforce the role of market actors. In historical perspective, Boelens et al. (2006) argue that Dutch spatial planning always has been characterized by public-private collaborations in which governments facilitated private and civic entrepreneurship. Therefore, post-war public-led spatial planning with necessary government intervention was a ‘temporary hiccup’, an exception to the rule. Third, the European Commission expresses concerns about the hybrid role of public actors in Dutch institutionalized PPP joint ventures. EU legislation opts for formal public-private role divisions in realizing urban projects based on Anglo-Saxon law that comply with the legislative tendering principles of competition, transparency, equality, and public legitimacy. Fourth, experiences with joint ventures in the Netherlands are less positive as often is advocated. Such institutionalized public-private entities have seldom generated the assumed added value, caused by misconceptions about the objectives of both partners grounded in incompatible value systems. This results in contra-productive levels of distrust, time-consuming partnership formations, lack of transparency, and compromising decision-making processes (Teisman & Klijn, 2002), providing a need for other forms of collaboration. Finally, current financial retrenchments in the public sector and debates about the possible abundance of Dutch active land development policies point towards a lean and mean government that moves away from risk-bearing participation and investment in urban projects and leaves this to the market. Importantly, Van der Krabben (2011b) argues that the Dutch active public land development policies can be considered as an international exception, and advocates for facilitating land development policies. In this light, it becomes highly relevant to study private sector-led urban development as a future Dutch urban development strategy. Integrative urban management approach This research is rooted in the research school of Urban Area Development within the Department of Real Estate and Housing at the Faculty of Architecture (Delft University of Technology). It is a relatively young academic domain which views urban development most profoundly as a complex management assignment (Bruil et al., 2004; Franzen et al., 2011). This academic school uses an integrative perspective with a strong practice-orientation and carries out solution-oriented design research. Here, the integration involves bridging various actor interests, spatial functions, spatial scales, academic domains, knowledge and skills, development goals, and links process with content aspects. Such a perspective does justice to complex societal processes. Therefore it provides a fruitful ground for studying urban development aimed at developing conceptual knowledge and product for science and practice. Such integrative perspective and practice-orientation forms the basis of this research and has been applied in the following manner. In order to create an understanding of the roles of public and private actors in private sector-led urban development, this research takes a management perspective based on an integrative management approach. This involves viewing management more broadly as ‘any type of direct influencing’ urban development projects, and therefore aims at bridging often separated management theories (Osborne, 2000a). Hence, an integrative management approach assists in both understanding urban development practices and projects and constructing useful conceptual tools for practitioners and academics. Integrative approaches attempt to combine a number of different elements into a more holistic management approach (Black & Porter, 2000). Importantly, it does not view the management of projects in isolation but in its entire complexity and dynamics. Therefore, our management approach combines two integrative management theories; the open systems theory (De Leeuw, 2002) and contingency theory. The former provides opportunities to study the management of a project in a structured manner. The latter emphasizes that there is no universally effective way of managing and recognizes the importance of contextual circumstances. Hence, an integrative management approach favors incorporating theories from multiple academic domains such as political science, economics, law, business administration, and organizational and management concepts. Hence, it moves away from the classical academic division between planning theory and property theory, and organization and management theories. It positions itself in between such academic domains, and aims at bridging theoretical viewpoints by following the concept of planning ánd markets (Alexander, 2001) rather than concepts such as ‘planning versus markets’, public versus private sector, and organization versus management. Also, such an integrative view values the complexity and dynamics of empirical urban development practices. More specifically, this research studies urban development projects as object, as urban areas are the focus point of spatial intervention and public-private interaction (Daamen, 2010), and thus collaboration and management. Here, public planning processes and private development processes merge with each other. Thus, our research continues to build upon the importance of studying and reflecting on empirical practices and projects (e.g. Healey, 2006). In addition to these authors, this research does so by using meaningful integrative concepts that reflect empirical realities of urban projects. Thereby, this research serves to bridge management sciences with management practices (Van Aken, 2004; Mintzberg, 2010) through iterative processes of reflecting on science and practice. Moreover, the integrative management approach applied in this research assists in filling an academic gap, namely the lack of management knowledge about public-private interaction in urban development projects. Despite the vast amount of literature on the governance of planning practices (e.g. DiGaetano & Strom, 2003), and Public-Private Partnerships (e.g. Osborne, 2000b), remarkable little knowledge exists about what shifting public-private relationships mean for day-to-day management by public and private actors in development projects. Hence, here we follow the main argument made by public administration scholar Klijn (2008) who claims that it is such direct actor influence that brings about the most significant change to the built environment. An integrative urban management model (see Figure 2.3) based on the open systems approach has been constructed which forms a conceptual representation of empirical private sectorled urban development projects. This model serves as an analytical tool to comprehend the complexity of managing such projects. In this research, several theoretical insights about publicprivate relations and roles are used to understand different contextual and organizational factors that affect the management of private sector-led urban development projects. Hence, a project context exists within different often country-specific institutional environments (e.g. the Netherlands and UK). In this research, contextual aspects that to a degree determine the way public and private actors inter-organize urban projects, consist of economics & politics, governance cultures, and planning systems and policies. Hence, institutional values are deeply rooted in social welfare models (Nadin & Stead, 2008). For instance, the differences between Anglo-Saxon and Rhineland model principles also determine public-private relationships. However, the process of neoliberalization (Hackworth, 2007) and subsequent adaptation of neoliberal political ideologies (Harvey, 2005) has created quite similar governance arrangements in Western countries. Nevertheless, institutional rules incorporated in planning systems, laws and policies often remain country-specific. But, market-oriented planning, involving ‘planners as market actors’ (Adams & Tiesdell, 2010) intervening and operating within market systems, have become the most commonly shared feature of contemporary Western urban development practices (Carmona et al., 2009). In this research, the project organization focuses on institutional aspects and interorganizational arrangements that structure Public-Private Partnerships (Bult-Spiering & Dewulf, 2002). It involves studying organizational tasks and responsibilities, financial risks and revenues, and legal rules and requirements. Inter-organizational arrangements condition the way public and private actors manage projects. Hence, such arrangements can be placed on a public-private spectrum (Börzel & Risse, 2002) which indicates different power relations in terms of public and private autonomy and dominance (Savitch, 1997) in making planning decisions. These public-private power relations are reflected in different Public-Private Partnership arrangements (Bennet et al., 2000) in urban development projects. As a result, in some contexts these partnerships arrangements are formalized into organizational vehicles or legal contracts, in others there is an emphasis on informal partnerships and interaction. The lack of management knowledge on private sector-led urban development projects, and our view of management as any type of direct influencing, results in constructing a conceptual public-private urban management model (see Figure SUM.1). This model is based on both theoretical concepts and empirical reflection. In this research, the management of project processes by public and private actors contains applying both management activities and instruments. Project management (Wijnen et al., 2004) includes development stage-oriented initiating, designing, planning, and operating activities. Process management (Teisman, 2003) includes interaction-oriented negotiating, decision-making, and communicating activities. Management tools consist of legal-oriented shaping, regulating, stimulating, and capacity building planning tools (Adams et al., 2004). And management resources consist of crucial necessities (Burie, 1978) for realizing urban projects like land, capital and knowledge. In essence, all these management measures can be applied by public and private actors to influence (private sector-led) urban development projects. These management measures can be used by actors to reach project effects. In this research, project effects are perceived as judgment criteria for indicating the success of the management of private sector-led urban development projects. They consist of cooperation effectiveness, process efficiency, and spatial quality. Effectiveness involves the degree to which objectives are achieved and problems are resolved. Ef ficiency is the degree to which the process is considered as efficiently realizing projects within time and budget. Finally, spatial quality is the degree to which the project contributes to responding to user, experience and future values of involved actors (Hooijmeijer et al., 2001). Such process and product effects are a crucial addition to understand the results of private sector-led urban development projects. Comparative case study research using a lesson-drawing method This research systematically analyzes and compares private sector-led urban development cases in both the Netherlands and the UK in a specific methodological way. In essence, this study is an empirical comparative case study research using a lesson-drawing method. Hence, case studies allow for an empirical inquiry that investigates a contemporary phenomenon within its real life context (Yin, 2003). Such a qualitative approach is very suited for the purposes of this research as it enables revealing empirical collaborative and managerial mechanisms within private sector-led urban development projects. The reason to include studying the UK lies is the fact that it can be considered as a market-oriented development practice, from which valuable lessons can be drawn for the Netherlands. Thereby, this research places itself in a longer tradition of Dutch interests in UK planning and development (e.g. Hobma et al., 2008). Hence, this research aims at drawing lessons in the form of ‘inspiration’ from practices and projects, as opposed to the more far-reaching transplantation of spatial policies (e.g. Janssen-Jansen et al., 2008). However, in order to draw meaningful empirical lessons there is a need to indicate whether they are context-dependent or -independent. This requires systematically comparing the institutional planning practices of both countries by indicating differences and similarities between the Netherlands and the UK. Based on these methodological principles ten Dutch and two UK of private sector-led urban development cases are selected and studied. The Dutch cases focus on scope over depth aimed at sketching the phenomenon of ‘area concessions’ in both inner-city and urban fringe projects. The UK cases focus on depth over scope aimed at understanding the applicability of a private sector-led approach in complex large-scale inner-city projects. As techniques the case study research uses document reviews, semi-structured interviews, project visits, and data mapping. Comparing Dutch and UK planning and urban development practices The institutional context of urban development in the Netherlands and the UK shows some structural differences, despite the fact that such contexts are often subject to change. For instance, the Dutch planning system uses Napoleonic codified law based on a constitution with abstract law principles as rule, and a limited role of judicial power. The UK planning system is based on British common law lacking a constitution, and uses law-making-as-we-go as judges act as law-makers. In terms of spatial planning, the Netherlands is characterized by binding land use plans within a limited-imperative system based on legal certainty. Dutch spatial planning can be labelled as ‘permitted planning’ based on ‘comprehensive integrative model’ (Dühr et al., 2010) which involves hierarchically coordinated and related public sector spatial plans. UK spatial planning has no binding land use plan, places importance on material considerations based on discretionary authority and flexibility. Historically, UK’s spatial planning can be labelled as ‘development-oriented planning’ based on a ‘land use management model’ with a focus on public sector coordinated planning policies. Moreover, Dutch and UK urban development also differ in terms of public and private roles in organizing and managing development (Heurkens, 2009). In the Netherlands, local governments are active bodies using spatial plans, active land development policies and public investment to develop cities. The private sector often operates reactively and is historically focused on the physical realization of projects. In general, public-private decision-making processes are based on reaching consensus, development project coordination typically involves ‘collaboration models’, and management is focused on process as product outcomes. In the UK, local government uses relatively less regulations and investment to develop cities, thereby facilitating market parties. The development industry is a mature sector, actively initiating and investing in projects. Decision-making is characterized by negotiations, and the organization of projects is often based on a clear formal public-private role division. Despite such a generic Dutch-UK comparison being of crucial importance to this research, it does no justice to increasing similarities between European planning practices. Moreover, such institutional contexts evolve as a result of changing planning priorities in each country. For instance, some basic characteristics of the UK planning system attracted the attention of Dutch planners, including comprehensive principles for project coordination, private sector involvement and negotiations, options for the settlement of ‘planning gain’, packaging interests, development-oriented planning, and discretion for planning decisions (Spaans, 2005). Hence, such more market-oriented planning principles have become valuable and sometimes necessary mechanisms to effectively cope with an increasingly less public-led and more private sector-led Dutch urban development practice. Empirical findings from Dutch private sector-led urban development cases Urban development practice in the Netherlands since the year 2000 witnessed an increased use of the concession model. Hence, this is the Dutch definition for private sector-led urban development. It can best be characterized as a contract form between public and private parties which involves the transfer of risks, revenues, responsibilities for the plan, land and real estate development to private developers based on pre-defined set of public requirements (Gijzen, 2009). In theory (Van Rooy, 2007; Van de Klundert, 2008; Heurkens et al., 2008) this collaboration model holds promising advantages of being a more effective, efficient and transparent strategy to achieve a high quality built environment. Nonetheless, possible disadvantages like the lack of public ‘steering’, dependency of market actors and circumstances, inflexible contracts, a project management orientation, and a stern public-private relationship also are mentioned. Moreover, conditions for the application of concessions in theory involve a manageable project scale and duration, minimal political and societal complexity, and maximum freedom for private actors. Motives for choosing concessions are the lack of public labor capacity and financial development means, risk transfer to private actors, increasing private initiatives and private land ownership. Hence, in theory public and private roles in the concession model are considered as strictly separated. However, there is a lack of structural empirical understanding and evidence for such theoretical assumptions. Therefore, empirical cases in Amsterdam, The Hague, Enschede, Maassluis, Middelburg, Naaldwijk, Rotterdam, Tilburg, Utrecht, and Velsen (see Table 5.1) are carried out. This includes studying private sector-led projects in both inner-city and urban fringe locations. The main conclusions based on cross-case study findings of these ten Dutch projects are highlighted here. Notice that public-private interaction and collaboration remains of vital importance in Dutch private sector-led urban development projects. Despite the formal contractual separation of public and private tasks and responsibilities, in practice close informal cooperation can be witnessed, especially in the early development stages. Moreover, public actors do not remain as risk free as theory suggests, because unfavorable market circumstances can cause development delays affecting the living environment of inhabitants. Furthermore, it seems that constructing and using flexible public requirements with some non-negotiable rules is an effective condition for realizing public objectives during the process. In terms of management, most projects are hardly considered as solely private sector-led, as they involve a substantial amount of public management influence. For instance, project management activities include a dominant role of municipalities in initiating and operating the development. Process management activities are carried out by both actors, as they involve close public-private interactions. Management tools are mostly used by public actors to shape and regulate development with a limited conscious usage of stimulating and capacity building tools. Using the management resources land, capital and knowledge are mainly a private affair. In terms of effects, the concession model by actors is considered as an effective instrument, but not necessarily results in efficient processes. The general perception of public, private and civic actors about the project’s spatial quality level is positive. In addition, actors were asked about their cooperation experiences. Often mentioned problems include a ‘we against them relationship’, lack of public role consistency, thin line between plan judgment and control, public manager’s commitment and competency, communication with local communities, and lack of public management opportunities. Based on the empirical case studies, most conditions for applying concessions are confirmed. However, the successful inner-city development projects in Amsterdam and Enschede indicate that a private sector-led approach can also be applied to more complex urban development projects within cities. Empirical findings from UK’s private sector-led urban development cases Urban development practice in the UK often is labelled as urban regeneration. Historically, it is strongly shaped by neoliberal political ideology of the Conservative Thatcher government in the 1980s. But it also is influenced by New Labour ideologies favoring the Third Way (Giddens, 1998) aimed at aligning economic, social and environmental policies. However, as a result of these institutional characteristics, the UK is strongly shaped by the understanding that most development is undertaken by private interests or by public bodies acting very much like private interests (Nadin et al., 2008). In general, local authorities depend on initiatives and investments of property developers and investors, because public financial resources and planning powers to actively develop land are limited. As a result, development control of private developments is a concept deeply embedded in development practice. Several legal instruments such as Section 106 agreements are used to establish planning gain by asking developer contributions for public functions. Moreover, urban development in the UK has a strong informal partnership culture, and simultaneously builds upon a strict formal legal public-private role division. These UK urban development practice characteristics provide valid reasons to study private sector-led urban development projects in more detail. The empirical cases of private sector-led urban development projects in the UK are Bristol Harbourside and Liverpool One. They represent mid-2000s strategic inner-city developments with a mixed-use functional program, and therefore possible high complexity. As such, they are relevant urban projects for drawing lessons for the Netherlands. The main conclusions based on cross-case study findings of the UK projects are discussed here. The case contexts show that politics and the often changeable nature of planning policies can have a major influence on the organization and management of development projects. Hence, strong and effective political leadership is considered as a crucial success factor. Changing policies result in re-establishing development conditions resulting in new publicprivate negotiations. In terms of organization, the cases indeed show that local authorities do not take on development risks. Moreover, revenue sharing with private actors is absent or limited to what the actors agree upon in development packages. Furthermore, local authorities encourage all kinds of partnerships with other public, private or civic stakeholders in order to generate development support and raise funds. In terms of management, local authorities use different management measures to influence projects. The cases indicate that public actors are able to influence private sector-led developments and thereby achieve public planning objectives. Importantly, public actors use all kinds of managing tools to shape and stimulate development; they do not limit themselves to regulation but also build capacity for development. However, the largest share of managing the project takes place on behalf of project developers. Private actors manage projects from initial design towards even public space operation (Liverpool). Thereby, they work with long-term investment business models increasing private commitment. In terms of effects, the cases show that although the projects are carried out effectively and achieve high quality levels, the process efficiency lacks behind due to lengthy negotiations. In conclusion, the actors’ experiences with the private sector-led urban development projects indicate some problems including; the financial dependency on private actors, lack of financial incentives for public actors, lack of awareness of civic demands, lack of controlling public opposition, long negotiation processes, and absence of skilled public managers. Moreover, the actors indicate some crucial conditions for a private sectorled approach including; flexible general public guidelines, informal partnerships and joint working, public and private leadership roles and skills, professional attitude and long term commitment of private actors, involvement of local communities, separating public planning and development roles, handling political pressures, and favorable market circumstances. Empirical lessons, improvements and inspiration Some general conclusions from the Dutch and UK case comparison can be drawn (see Table 8.1). The influence of the project’s context in the UK seems to be higher than in the Netherlands, especially political powers and changeable policies influence projects. The organizational role division in UK projects seems to be stricter than in the Dutch projects, where public requirements sometimes are also formulated in more detail. The actor’s management in the Dutch cases is slightly less private sector-led than in the UK, where local authorities and developers are more aware of how to use management measures at their disposal. The project effects show quite some resemblance; effectiveness and spatial quality can be achieved, while efficiency remains difficult to achieve due to the negotiation culture. Here, important empirical lessons learned from cases in both countries are discussed aimed at formulating possible solutions for perceived Dutch problems. The problematic Dutch ‘we against them relationship’ between actors in the UK is handled by a close collaboration. Developers organize regular informative and interactive design meetings with local authorities, sharing ideas in a ‘joint-up working’ atmosphere. The lack of public role consistency in the UK is resolved by local authorities that develop a clear schedule of spatial requirements which provides certainty. Moreover, room for negotiations allows for the flexibility to react on changed circumstances. The thin line between judgment and control of plans is not commonly recognized in the UK cases. Local authorities tend to respect that developers need room to carry out development activities on their own professional insights, and merely control if developers deliver ‘product specifications’ in time and to agreed conditions. The commitment and competencies of public project managers are also mentioned as crucial factors in the UK. It involves managers connecting the project to the political and civic environment, and leaders committing themselves to project support through communication with local communities. The lack of public management seems to be a Dutch perceived difficulty as UK local authorities do not apply active land development policies and ‘hard’ management resources. Therefore, they influence development with both more consciously applied legal tools and ‘soft’ management skills such as negotiating. Recommended improvements mentioned by Dutch practitioners here are mirrored to possible support from the UK cases. The Dutch recommendation to cooperate in pre-development stages to create public project support and commitment finds support in the UK. Hence, despite a formal division of public and private responsibilities, in practice a lot of informal public-private interaction and collaboration takes place and seems necessary. Striving for public role consistency also is an appreciated value by developers in the UK. Working on the principle of ‘agreement is agreement’ creates certainty for developers, and less resistance and willingness to cooperate once highly relevant public issues are put on the table. Establishing clear process agreements with moments of control or discussion in the UK are handled with evaluation moments aimed at judging output, and planned meetings aimed at creating a dialogue about new insights. Connecting planning and development processes in the UK is handled by a municipal team consisting of political leaders and project managers that align development processes with administrative planning processes. A clear communication plan to involve local communities and businesses in the UK is handled by developers which involve relevant stakeholders in the decision-making process prior to planning applications for support and process efficiency. Finding public opportunities to influence development other than land and capital in the UK is handled through the use of several public planning tools and publicprivate negotiations. The UK cases also provided various inspirational lessons for the Netherlands. First, the construction and application of a public ‘management toolbox’ consisting of various planning tools that shape, stimulate, regulate and activate the market could assist local authorities to view management more integratively and use existing instruments more consciously. Second, choosing a private development partner with professional expertise, track record and local knowledge, instead of an economically lucrative private tender offer for private sector-led urban development projects, has the advantage of creating a cooperative relationship. The reason for this is that flexible development concepts rather than fixed development plans are indicators of a cooperative attitude of a developer. Third, enabling partnership agreements between public, private and civic actors aimed at creating wide support and long-term commitment by expressing development intentions assists pulling together development resources from both investors and central government. Fourth, privately-owned public space based on a land lease agreement containing public space conditions creates several financial advantages. For local authorities it eliminates public maintenance costs, and for private actors the operation of the area and maintaining high quality standards can be beneficial for real estate sales and returns. Fifth, the value increase-oriented investment model of a long-term private development investor rather than a short-term project-oriented developer with a trade-off model between time, costs and quality has advantages. Large amounts of upfront investment can more easily be financed as high quality environments and properties increase the area’s competitive position and investment returns. Sixth, local authorities can establish partnerships that actively apply for public funding alternatives such as lottery funds. Such funds secure the development of public functions and create interest for commercial actors to invest, which can result possibilities to negotiate development packages which can results in a planning gain for public actors. Seventh, public and private leadership styles on different organizational levels for inner-city development projects result in more efficient processes. Appointing strategictactical operating political leaders and private firm directors and tactical-operational public and private project leaders streamlines internal and external communication and shared project commitment and support. Finally, the UK shows that a private sector-led approach can successfully be applied to complex inner-city developments. Despite the complex social and political character, fragmented land ownership situation, and high remediation costs UK developers can deliver such projects succesfully. Conditions seem a professionally skilled and financially empowered developer, and active local authorities that facilitate market initiatives. The likelihood of transfer of the inspirational UK lessons depends on some Dutch institutional characteristics (economics & politics, governance culture, planning system and policies). However, most lessons are context-independent and thus can be applied in the Dutch urban development practice. But, Table 8.2 also shows some institutional context-dependent features that limit the transfer of UK findings to the Netherlands. This includes the general short-term scope of Dutch developers and the general wish from municipalities to hold ‘control’ over development projects. Reflections on safeguarding public interests & alternative financing instruments The epilogue contains conceptual reflections about alternative ways for safeguarding public interests and private financing instruments in line with the current social-economic climate. These reflections are not based on research findings but on an additional literature review that provides food for thought for public and private actors in urban development. Hence, safeguarding public interests is an important concern for public actors, especially in market-oriented planning and private sector-led urban development projects. In our pluralistic society it has become impossible for one actor to determine the public interest in all occasions. In line with societal development it would not only be socially-coherent for governments to engage private and civic actors in safeguarding public interests, but even a social necessity. Consciously applying different public interest safeguarding strategies based on both hierarchical, market and network mechanisms (De Bruijn & Dicke, 2006) provide this opportunity. By using a combination of legitimized hierarchical mechanisms, competitionoriented market mechanisms, and inter-action oriented network mechanisms, public values become institutionalized in private and civic sectors. Then, the role of public planning institutions in safeguarding increasing economic values, social cohesion and public health is to use both legitimate planning tools and accountable planning activities. It enables other actors to become both more responsible for and involved in their own built environment. In market-oriented planning and private sector-led urban projects, safeguarding public interest instruments include non-negotiable general planning standards which secure basic needs of civilians, and negotiable development conditions which create involvement of other actors. Non-negotiable safeguarding instruments include; public tender requirements, land use plans, planning permissions and financial claims. Negotiable safeguarding instruments include; contractual conditions, competitive dialogues, spatial quality plans, developer contributions, development incentives, performance indicators, and ownership (see Figure 10.2). The reliance of private investment in private sector-led urban development projects asks for exploring alternative financing instruments for urban projects with less reliance on credit capital. This is a crucial subject being the result of the effect the current economic situation has on the land and property market. Hence, it is widely acknowledged that in many development practices around the globe property investment for urban development has changed radically as a result of the international credit crisis and economic downturn (Parkinson et al., 2009). ‘New financial models’ have the attention of several Dutch practitioners (e.g. Van Rooy, 2011) and academics (e.g. Van der Krabben, 2011b). In the current Dutch urban development practice, one notices an increased interest in demand-driven development strategies promoting; bottom-up development initiatives, value-oriented investment strategies, and de-risked phasing of development, which potentially increase the feasibility of urban projects. A literature review indicates promising alternative financing instruments for Dutch urban development practice and private sector-led urban development projects, including; Tax Increment Financing, Temporary Development/Investment Grants, Lottery Funds, DBFM/ Concession Light, Crowd Funding, Urban Development Trusts, Business Improvement Districts, and Urban Reparcelling. These instruments have different features such as investment source, development incentives, organizational requirements and object conditions, which need to be taken into account by public and private actors once applied (see Table 10.3).

Central to this research lays the concept of private sector-led urban development projects (Heurkens, 2010). Such projects involve project developers taking a leading role and local authorities adopting a facilitating role, in managing the development of an urban area, based on a clear public-private role division. Such a development strategy is quite common in Anglo-Saxon urban development practices, but is less known in Continental European practices. Nonetheless, since the beginning of the millennium such a development strategy also occurred in the Netherlands in the form of ‘concessions’. However, remarkably little empirical knowledge is available about how public and private actors collaborate on and manage private sector-led urban development projects. Moreover, it remains unclear what the effects of such projects are. This dissertation provides an understanding of the various characteristics of private sector-led urban development projects by conducting empirical case study research in the institutional contexts of the Netherlands and the UK. The research provides an answer to the following research question: What can we learn from private sector-led urban development projects in the Netherlands and UK in terms of the collaborative and managerial roles of public and private actors, and the effects of their (inter)actions? Indications for a market-oriented Dutch urban development practice Urban development practice in the Netherlands has been subject to changes pointing towards more private sector involvement in the built environment in the past decades. Although the current economic recession might indicate otherwise, there are several motives that indicate a continuation of private sector involvement and a private leadership role in Dutch urban development projects in the future. First, a shift towards more market-oriented development practice is the result of an evolutionary process of increased ‘neoliberalization’ and the adoption of Anglo-Saxon principles in Dutch society. Despite its Rhineland roots with a focus on welfare provision, in the Netherlands several neoliberal principles (privatization, decentralization, deregulation) have been adopted by government and incorporated in the management of organizations (Bakker et al., 2005). Hence, market institutionalization on the one hand, and rising civic emancipation on the other, in current Western societies prevents a return towards hierarchical governance. Second, the result of such changes is the emergence of a market-oriented type of planning practice based on the concept of ‘development planning’. Public-Private Partnerships and the ‘forward integration’ of market parties (De Zeeuw, 2007) enforce the role of market actors. In historical perspective, Boelens et al. (2006) argue that Dutch spatial planning always has been characterized by public-private collaborations in which governments facilitated private and civic entrepreneurship. Therefore, post-war public-led spatial planning with necessary government intervention was a ‘temporary hiccup’, an exception to the rule. Third, the European Commission expresses concerns about the hybrid role of public actors in Dutch institutionalized PPP joint ventures. EU legislation opts for formal public-private role divisions in realizing urban projects based on Anglo-Saxon law that comply with the legislative tendering principles of competition, transparency, equality, and public legitimacy. Fourth, experiences with joint ventures in the Netherlands are less positive as often is advocated. Such institutionalized public-private entities have seldom generated the assumed added value, caused by misconceptions about the objectives of both partners grounded in incompatible value systems. This results in contra-productive levels of distrust, time-consuming partnership formations, lack of transparency, and compromising decision-making processes (Teisman & Klijn, 2002), providing a need for other forms of collaboration. Finally, current financial retrenchments in the public sector and debates about the possible abundance of Dutch active land development policies point towards a lean and mean government that moves away from risk-bearing participation and investment in urban projects and leaves this to the market. Importantly, Van der Krabben (2011b) argues that the Dutch active public land development policies can be considered as an international exception, and advocates for facilitating land development policies. In this light, it becomes highly relevant to study private sector-led urban development as a future Dutch urban development strategy. Integrative urban management approach This research is rooted in the research school of Urban Area Development within the Department of Real Estate and Housing at the Faculty of Architecture (Delft University of Technology). It is a relatively young academic domain which views urban development most profoundly as a complex management assignment (Bruil et al., 2004; Franzen et al., 2011). This academic school uses an integrative perspective with a strong practice-orientation and carries out solution-oriented design research. Here, the integration involves bridging various actor interests, spatial functions, spatial scales, academic domains, knowledge and skills, development goals, and links process with content aspects. Such a perspective does justice to complex societal processes. Therefore it provides a fruitful ground for studying urban development aimed at developing conceptual knowledge and product for science and practice. Such integrative perspective and practice-orientation forms the basis of this research and has been applied in the following manner. In order to create an understanding of the roles of public and private actors in private sector-led urban development, this research takes a management perspective based on an integrative management approach. This involves viewing management more broadly as ‘any type of direct influencing’ urban development projects, and therefore aims at bridging often separated management theories (Osborne, 2000a). Hence, an integrative management approach assists in both understanding urban development practices and projects and constructing useful conceptual tools for practitioners and academics. Integrative approaches attempt to combine a number of different elements into a more holistic management approach (Black & Porter, 2000). Importantly, it does not view the management of projects in isolation but in its entire complexity and dynamics. Therefore, our management approach combines two integrative management theories; the open systems theory (De Leeuw, 2002) and contingency theory. The former provides opportunities to study the management of a project in a structured manner. The latter emphasizes that there is no universally effective way of managing and recognizes the importance of contextual circumstances. Hence, an integrative management approach favors incorporating theories from multiple academic domains such as political science, economics, law, business administration, and organizational and management concepts. Hence, it moves away from the classical academic division between planning theory and property theory, and organization and management theories. It positions itself in between such academic domains, and aims at bridging theoretical viewpoints by following the concept of planning ánd markets (Alexander, 2001) rather than concepts such as ‘planning versus markets’, public versus private sector, and organization versus management. Also, such an integrative view values the complexity and dynamics of empirical urban development practices. More specifically, this research studies urban development projects as object, as urban areas are the focus point of spatial intervention and public-private interaction (Daamen, 2010), and thus collaboration and management. Here, public planning processes and private development processes merge with each other. Thus, our research continues to build upon the importance of studying and reflecting on empirical practices and projects (e.g. Healey, 2006). In addition to these authors, this research does so by using meaningful integrative concepts that reflect empirical realities of urban projects. Thereby, this research serves to bridge management sciences with management practices (Van Aken, 2004; Mintzberg, 2010) through iterative processes of reflecting on science and practice. Moreover, the integrative management approach applied in this research assists in filling an academic gap, namely the lack of management knowledge about public-private interaction in urban development projects. Despite the vast amount of literature on the governance of planning practices (e.g. DiGaetano & Strom, 2003), and Public-Private Partnerships (e.g. Osborne, 2000b), remarkable little knowledge exists about what shifting public-private relationships mean for day-to-day management by public and private actors in development projects. Hence, here we follow the main argument made by public administration scholar Klijn (2008) who claims that it is such direct actor influence that brings about the most significant change to the built environment. An integrative urban management model (see Figure 2.3) based on the open systems approach has been constructed which forms a conceptual representation of empirical private sectorled urban development projects. This model serves as an analytical tool to comprehend the complexity of managing such projects. In this research, several theoretical insights about publicprivate relations and roles are used to understand different contextual and organizational factors that affect the management of private sector-led urban development projects. Hence, a project context exists within different often country-specific institutional environments (e.g. the Netherlands and UK). In this research, contextual aspects that to a degree determine the way public and private actors inter-organize urban projects, consist of economics & politics, governance cultures, and planning systems and policies. Hence, institutional values are deeply rooted in social welfare models (Nadin & Stead, 2008). For instance, the differences between Anglo-Saxon and Rhineland model principles also determine public-private relationships. However, the process of neoliberalization (Hackworth, 2007) and subsequent adaptation of neoliberal political ideologies (Harvey, 2005) has created quite similar governance arrangements in Western countries. Nevertheless, institutional rules incorporated in planning systems, laws and policies often remain country-specific. But, market-oriented planning, involving ‘planners as market actors’ (Adams & Tiesdell, 2010) intervening and operating within market systems, have become the most commonly shared feature of contemporary Western urban development practices (Carmona et al., 2009). In this research, the project organization focuses on institutional aspects and interorganizational arrangements that structure Public-Private Partnerships (Bult-Spiering & Dewulf, 2002). It involves studying organizational tasks and responsibilities, financial risks and revenues, and legal rules and requirements. Inter-organizational arrangements condition the way public and private actors manage projects. Hence, such arrangements can be placed on a public-private spectrum (Börzel & Risse, 2002) which indicates different power relations in terms of public and private autonomy and dominance (Savitch, 1997) in making planning decisions. These public-private power relations are reflected in different Public-Private Partnership arrangements (Bennet et al., 2000) in urban development projects. As a result, in some contexts these partnerships arrangements are formalized into organizational vehicles or legal contracts, in others there is an emphasis on informal partnerships and interaction. The lack of management knowledge on private sector-led urban development projects, and our view of management as any type of direct influencing, results in constructing a conceptual public-private urban management model (see Figure SUM.1). This model is based on both theoretical concepts and empirical reflection. In this research, the management of project processes by public and private actors contains applying both management activities and instruments. Project management (Wijnen et al., 2004) includes development stage-oriented initiating, designing, planning, and operating activities. Process management (Teisman, 2003) includes interaction-oriented negotiating, decision-making, and communicating activities. Management tools consist of legal-oriented shaping, regulating, stimulating, and capacity building planning tools (Adams et al., 2004). And management resources consist of crucial necessities (Burie, 1978) for realizing urban projects like land, capital and knowledge. In essence, all these management measures can be applied by public and private actors to influence (private sector-led) urban development projects. These management measures can be used by actors to reach project effects. In this research, project effects are perceived as judgment criteria for indicating the success of the management of private sector-led urban development projects. They consist of cooperation effectiveness, process efficiency, and spatial quality. Effectiveness involves the degree to which objectives are achieved and problems are resolved. Ef ficiency is the degree to which the process is considered as efficiently realizing projects within time and budget. Finally, spatial quality is the degree to which the project contributes to responding to user, experience and future values of involved actors (Hooijmeijer et al., 2001). Such process and product effects are a crucial addition to understand the results of private sector-led urban development projects. Comparative case study research using a lesson-drawing method This research systematically analyzes and compares private sector-led urban development cases in both the Netherlands and the UK in a specific methodological way. In essence, this study is an empirical comparative case study research using a lesson-drawing method. Hence, case studies allow for an empirical inquiry that investigates a contemporary phenomenon within its real life context (Yin, 2003). Such a qualitative approach is very suited for the purposes of this research as it enables revealing empirical collaborative and managerial mechanisms within private sector-led urban development projects. The reason to include studying the UK lies is the fact that it can be considered as a market-oriented development practice, from which valuable lessons can be drawn for the Netherlands. Thereby, this research places itself in a longer tradition of Dutch interests in UK planning and development (e.g. Hobma et al., 2008). Hence, this research aims at drawing lessons in the form of ‘inspiration’ from practices and projects, as opposed to the more far-reaching transplantation of spatial policies (e.g. Janssen-Jansen et al., 2008). However, in order to draw meaningful empirical lessons there is a need to indicate whether they are context-dependent or -independent. This requires systematically comparing the institutional planning practices of both countries by indicating differences and similarities between the Netherlands and the UK. Based on these methodological principles ten Dutch and two UK of private sector-led urban development cases are selected and studied. The Dutch cases focus on scope over depth aimed at sketching the phenomenon of ‘area concessions’ in both inner-city and urban fringe projects. The UK cases focus on depth over scope aimed at understanding the applicability of a private sector-led approach in complex large-scale inner-city projects. As techniques the case study research uses document reviews, semi-structured interviews, project visits, and data mapping. Comparing Dutch and UK planning and urban development practices The institutional context of urban development in the Netherlands and the UK shows some structural differences, despite the fact that such contexts are often subject to change. For instance, the Dutch planning system uses Napoleonic codified law based on a constitution with abstract law principles as rule, and a limited role of judicial power. The UK planning system is based on British common law lacking a constitution, and uses law-making-as-we-go as judges act as law-makers. In terms of spatial planning, the Netherlands is characterized by binding land use plans within a limited-imperative system based on legal certainty. Dutch spatial planning can be labelled as ‘permitted planning’ based on ‘comprehensive integrative model’ (Dühr et al., 2010) which involves hierarchically coordinated and related public sector spatial plans. UK spatial planning has no binding land use plan, places importance on material considerations based on discretionary authority and flexibility. Historically, UK’s spatial planning can be labelled as ‘development-oriented planning’ based on a ‘land use management model’ with a focus on public sector coordinated planning policies. Moreover, Dutch and UK urban development also differ in terms of public and private roles in organizing and managing development (Heurkens, 2009). In the Netherlands, local governments are active bodies using spatial plans, active land development policies and public investment to develop cities. The private sector often operates reactively and is historically focused on the physical realization of projects. In general, public-private decision-making processes are based on reaching consensus, development project coordination typically involves ‘collaboration models’, and management is focused on process as product outcomes. In the UK, local government uses relatively less regulations and investment to develop cities, thereby facilitating market parties. The development industry is a mature sector, actively initiating and investing in projects. Decision-making is characterized by negotiations, and the organization of projects is often based on a clear formal public-private role division. Despite such a generic Dutch-UK comparison being of crucial importance to this research, it does no justice to increasing similarities between European planning practices. Moreover, such institutional contexts evolve as a result of changing planning priorities in each country. For instance, some basic characteristics of the UK planning system attracted the attention of Dutch planners, including comprehensive principles for project coordination, private sector involvement and negotiations, options for the settlement of ‘planning gain’, packaging interests, development-oriented planning, and discretion for planning decisions (Spaans, 2005). Hence, such more market-oriented planning principles have become valuable and sometimes necessary mechanisms to effectively cope with an increasingly less public-led and more private sector-led Dutch urban development practice. Empirical findings from Dutch private sector-led urban development cases Urban development practice in the Netherlands since the year 2000 witnessed an increased use of the concession model. Hence, this is the Dutch definition for private sector-led urban development. It can best be characterized as a contract form between public and private parties which involves the transfer of risks, revenues, responsibilities for the plan, land and real estate development to private developers based on pre-defined set of public requirements (Gijzen, 2009). In theory (Van Rooy, 2007; Van de Klundert, 2008; Heurkens et al., 2008) this collaboration model holds promising advantages of being a more effective, efficient and transparent strategy to achieve a high quality built environment. Nonetheless, possible disadvantages like the lack of public ‘steering’, dependency of market actors and circumstances, inflexible contracts, a project management orientation, and a stern public-private relationship also are mentioned. Moreover, conditions for the application of concessions in theory involve a manageable project scale and duration, minimal political and societal complexity, and maximum freedom for private actors. Motives for choosing concessions are the lack of public labor capacity and financial development means, risk transfer to private actors, increasing private initiatives and private land ownership. Hence, in theory public and private roles in the concession model are considered as strictly separated. However, there is a lack of structural empirical understanding and evidence for such theoretical assumptions. Therefore, empirical cases in Amsterdam, The Hague, Enschede, Maassluis, Middelburg, Naaldwijk, Rotterdam, Tilburg, Utrecht, and Velsen (see Table 5.1) are carried out. This includes studying private sector-led projects in both inner-city and urban fringe locations. The main conclusions based on cross-case study findings of these ten Dutch projects are highlighted here. Notice that public-private interaction and collaboration remains of vital importance in Dutch private sector-led urban development projects. Despite the formal contractual separation of public and private tasks and responsibilities, in practice close informal cooperation can be witnessed, especially in the early development stages. Moreover, public actors do not remain as risk free as theory suggests, because unfavorable market circumstances can cause development delays affecting the living environment of inhabitants. Furthermore, it seems that constructing and using flexible public requirements with some non-negotiable rules is an effective condition for realizing public objectives during the process. In terms of management, most projects are hardly considered as solely private sector-led, as they involve a substantial amount of public management influence. For instance, project management activities include a dominant role of municipalities in initiating and operating the development. Process management activities are carried out by both actors, as they involve close public-private interactions. Management tools are mostly used by public actors to shape and regulate development with a limited conscious usage of stimulating and capacity building tools. Using the management resources land, capital and knowledge are mainly a private affair. In terms of effects, the concession model by actors is considered as an effective instrument, but not necessarily results in efficient processes. The general perception of public, private and civic actors about the project’s spatial quality level is positive. In addition, actors were asked about their cooperation experiences. Often mentioned problems include a ‘we against them relationship’, lack of public role consistency, thin line between plan judgment and control, public manager’s commitment and competency, communication with local communities, and lack of public management opportunities. Based on the empirical case studies, most conditions for applying concessions are confirmed. However, the successful inner-city development projects in Amsterdam and Enschede indicate that a private sector-led approach can also be applied to more complex urban development projects within cities. Empirical findings from UK’s private sector-led urban development cases Urban development practice in the UK often is labelled as urban regeneration. Historically, it is strongly shaped by neoliberal political ideology of the Conservative Thatcher government in the 1980s. But it also is influenced by New Labour ideologies favoring the Third Way (Giddens, 1998) aimed at aligning economic, social and environmental policies. However, as a result of these institutional characteristics, the UK is strongly shaped by the understanding that most development is undertaken by private interests or by public bodies acting very much like private interests (Nadin et al., 2008). In general, local authorities depend on initiatives and investments of property developers and investors, because public financial resources and planning powers to actively develop land are limited. As a result, development control of private developments is a concept deeply embedded in development practice. Several legal instruments such as Section 106 agreements are used to establish planning gain by asking developer contributions for public functions. Moreover, urban development in the UK has a strong informal partnership culture, and simultaneously builds upon a strict formal legal public-private role division. These UK urban development practice characteristics provide valid reasons to study private sector-led urban development projects in more detail. The empirical cases of private sector-led urban development projects in the UK are Bristol Harbourside and Liverpool One. They represent mid-2000s strategic inner-city developments with a mixed-use functional program, and therefore possible high complexity. As such, they are relevant urban projects for drawing lessons for the Netherlands. The main conclusions based on cross-case study findings of the UK projects are discussed here. The case contexts show that politics and the often changeable nature of planning policies can have a major influence on the organization and management of development projects. Hence, strong and effective political leadership is considered as a crucial success factor. Changing policies result in re-establishing development conditions resulting in new publicprivate negotiations. In terms of organization, the cases indeed show that local authorities do not take on development risks. Moreover, revenue sharing with private actors is absent or limited to what the actors agree upon in development packages. Furthermore, local authorities encourage all kinds of partnerships with other public, private or civic stakeholders in order to generate development support and raise funds. In terms of management, local authorities use different management measures to influence projects. The cases indicate that public actors are able to influence private sector-led developments and thereby achieve public planning objectives. Importantly, public actors use all kinds of managing tools to shape and stimulate development; they do not limit themselves to regulation but also build capacity for development. However, the largest share of managing the project takes place on behalf of project developers. Private actors manage projects from initial design towards even public space operation (Liverpool). Thereby, they work with long-term investment business models increasing private commitment. In terms of effects, the cases show that although the projects are carried out effectively and achieve high quality levels, the process efficiency lacks behind due to lengthy negotiations. In conclusion, the actors’ experiences with the private sector-led urban development projects indicate some problems including; the financial dependency on private actors, lack of financial incentives for public actors, lack of awareness of civic demands, lack of controlling public opposition, long negotiation processes, and absence of skilled public managers. Moreover, the actors indicate some crucial conditions for a private sectorled approach including; flexible general public guidelines, informal partnerships and joint working, public and private leadership roles and skills, professional attitude and long term commitment of private actors, involvement of local communities, separating public planning and development roles, handling political pressures, and favorable market circumstances. Empirical lessons, improvements and inspiration Some general conclusions from the Dutch and UK case comparison can be drawn (see Table 8.1). The influence of the project’s context in the UK seems to be higher than in the Netherlands, especially political powers and changeable policies influence projects. The organizational role division in UK projects seems to be stricter than in the Dutch projects, where public requirements sometimes are also formulated in more detail. The actor’s management in the Dutch cases is slightly less private sector-led than in the UK, where local authorities and developers are more aware of how to use management measures at their disposal. The project effects show quite some resemblance; effectiveness and spatial quality can be achieved, while efficiency remains difficult to achieve due to the negotiation culture. Here, important empirical lessons learned from cases in both countries are discussed aimed at formulating possible solutions for perceived Dutch problems. The problematic Dutch ‘we against them relationship’ between actors in the UK is handled by a close collaboration. Developers organize regular informative and interactive design meetings with local authorities, sharing ideas in a ‘joint-up working’ atmosphere. The lack of public role consistency in the UK is resolved by local authorities that develop a clear schedule of spatial requirements which provides certainty. Moreover, room for negotiations allows for the flexibility to react on changed circumstances. The thin line between judgment and control of plans is not commonly recognized in the UK cases. Local authorities tend to respect that developers need room to carry out development activities on their own professional insights, and merely control if developers deliver ‘product specifications’ in time and to agreed conditions. The commitment and competencies of public project managers are also mentioned as crucial factors in the UK. It involves managers connecting the project to the political and civic environment, and leaders committing themselves to project support through communication with local communities. The lack of public management seems to be a Dutch perceived difficulty as UK local authorities do not apply active land development policies and ‘hard’ management resources. Therefore, they influence development with both more consciously applied legal tools and ‘soft’ management skills such as negotiating. Recommended improvements mentioned by Dutch practitioners here are mirrored to possible support from the UK cases. The Dutch recommendation to cooperate in pre-development stages to create public project support and commitment finds support in the UK. Hence, despite a formal division of public and private responsibilities, in practice a lot of informal public-private interaction and collaboration takes place and seems necessary. Striving for public role consistency also is an appreciated value by developers in the UK. Working on the principle of ‘agreement is agreement’ creates certainty for developers, and less resistance and willingness to cooperate once highly relevant public issues are put on the table. Establishing clear process agreements with moments of control or discussion in the UK are handled with evaluation moments aimed at judging output, and planned meetings aimed at creating a dialogue about new insights. Connecting planning and development processes in the UK is handled by a municipal team consisting of political leaders and project managers that align development processes with administrative planning processes. A clear communication plan to involve local communities and businesses in the UK is handled by developers which involve relevant stakeholders in the decision-making process prior to planning applications for support and process efficiency. Finding public opportunities to influence development other than land and capital in the UK is handled through the use of several public planning tools and publicprivate negotiations. The UK cases also provided various inspirational lessons for the Netherlands. First, the construction and application of a public ‘management toolbox’ consisting of various planning tools that shape, stimulate, regulate and activate the market could assist local authorities to view management more integratively and use existing instruments more consciously. Second, choosing a private development partner with professional expertise, track record and local knowledge, instead of an economically lucrative private tender offer for private sector-led urban development projects, has the advantage of creating a cooperative relationship. The reason for this is that flexible development concepts rather than fixed development plans are indicators of a cooperative attitude of a developer. Third, enabling partnership agreements between public, private and civic actors aimed at creating wide support and long-term commitment by expressing development intentions assists pulling together development resources from both investors and central government. Fourth, privately-owned public space based on a land lease agreement containing public space conditions creates several financial advantages. For local authorities it eliminates public maintenance costs, and for private actors the operation of the area and maintaining high quality standards can be beneficial for real estate sales and returns. Fifth, the value increase-oriented investment model of a long-term private development investor rather than a short-term project-oriented developer with a trade-off model between time, costs and quality has advantages. Large amounts of upfront investment can more easily be financed as high quality environments and properties increase the area’s competitive position and investment returns. Sixth, local authorities can establish partnerships that actively apply for public funding alternatives such as lottery funds. Such funds secure the development of public functions and create interest for commercial actors to invest, which can result possibilities to negotiate development packages which can results in a planning gain for public actors. Seventh, public and private leadership styles on different organizational levels for inner-city development projects result in more efficient processes. Appointing strategictactical operating political leaders and private firm directors and tactical-operational public and private project leaders streamlines internal and external communication and shared project commitment and support. Finally, the UK shows that a private sector-led approach can successfully be applied to complex inner-city developments. Despite the complex social and political character, fragmented land ownership situation, and high remediation costs UK developers can deliver such projects succesfully. Conditions seem a professionally skilled and financially empowered developer, and active local authorities that facilitate market initiatives. The likelihood of transfer of the inspirational UK lessons depends on some Dutch institutional characteristics (economics & politics, governance culture, planning system and policies). However, most lessons are context-independent and thus can be applied in the Dutch urban development practice. But, Table 8.2 also shows some institutional context-dependent features that limit the transfer of UK findings to the Netherlands. This includes the general short-term scope of Dutch developers and the general wish from municipalities to hold ‘control’ over development projects. Reflections on safeguarding public interests & alternative financing instruments The epilogue contains conceptual reflections about alternative ways for safeguarding public interests and private financing instruments in line with the current social-economic climate. These reflections are not based on research findings but on an additional literature review that provides food for thought for public and private actors in urban development. Hence, safeguarding public interests is an important concern for public actors, especially in market-oriented planning and private sector-led urban development projects. In our pluralistic society it has become impossible for one actor to determine the public interest in all occasions. In line with societal development it would not only be socially-coherent for governments to engage private and civic actors in safeguarding public interests, but even a social necessity. Consciously applying different public interest safeguarding strategies based on both hierarchical, market and network mechanisms (De Bruijn & Dicke, 2006) provide this opportunity. By using a combination of legitimized hierarchical mechanisms, competitionoriented market mechanisms, and inter-action oriented network mechanisms, public values become institutionalized in private and civic sectors. Then, the role of public planning institutions in safeguarding increasing economic values, social cohesion and public health is to use both legitimate planning tools and accountable planning activities. It enables other actors to become both more responsible for and involved in their own built environment. In market-oriented planning and private sector-led urban projects, safeguarding public interest instruments include non-negotiable general planning standards which secure basic needs of civilians, and negotiable development conditions which create involvement of other actors. Non-negotiable safeguarding instruments include; public tender requirements, land use plans, planning permissions and financial claims. Negotiable safeguarding instruments include; contractual conditions, competitive dialogues, spatial quality plans, developer contributions, development incentives, performance indicators, and ownership (see Figure 10.2). The reliance of private investment in private sector-led urban development projects asks for exploring alternative financing instruments for urban projects with less reliance on credit capital. This is a crucial subject being the result of the effect the current economic situation has on the land and property market. Hence, it is widely acknowledged that in many development practices around the globe property investment for urban development has changed radically as a result of the international credit crisis and economic downturn (Parkinson et al., 2009). ‘New financial models’ have the attention of several Dutch practitioners (e.g. Van Rooy, 2011) and academics (e.g. Van der Krabben, 2011b). In the current Dutch urban development practice, one notices an increased interest in demand-driven development strategies promoting; bottom-up development initiatives, value-oriented investment strategies, and de-risked phasing of development, which potentially increase the feasibility of urban projects. A literature review indicates promising alternative financing instruments for Dutch urban development practice and private sector-led urban development projects, including; Tax Increment Financing, Temporary Development/Investment Grants, Lottery Funds, DBFM/ Concession Light, Crowd Funding, Urban Development Trusts, Business Improvement Districts, and Urban Reparcelling. These instruments have different features such as investment source, development incentives, organizational requirements and object conditions, which need to be taken into account by public and private actors once applied (see Table 10.3).

Central to this research lays the concept of private sector-led urban development projects (Heurkens, 2010). Such projects involve project developers taking a leading role and local authorities adopting a facilitating role, in managing the development of an urban area, based on a clear public-private role division. Such a development strategy is quite common in Anglo-Saxon urban development practices, but is less known in Continental European practices. Nonetheless, since the beginning of the millennium such a development strategy also occurred in the Netherlands in the form of ‘concessions’. However, remarkably little empirical knowledge is available about how public and private actors collaborate on and manage private sector-led urban development projects. Moreover, it remains unclear what the effects of such projects are. This dissertation provides an understanding of the various characteristics of private sector-led urban development projects by conducting empirical case study research in the institutional contexts of the Netherlands and the UK. The research provides an answer to the following research question: What can we learn from private sector-led urban development projects in the Netherlands and UK in terms of the collaborative and managerial roles of public and private actors, and the effects of their (inter)actions? Indications for a market-oriented Dutch urban development practice Urban development practice in the Netherlands has been subject to changes pointing towards more private sector involvement in the built environment in the past decades. Although the current economic recession might indicate otherwise, there are several motives that indicate a continuation of private sector involvement and a private leadership role in Dutch urban development projects in the future. First, a shift towards more market-oriented development practice is the result of an evolutionary process of increased ‘neoliberalization’ and the adoption of Anglo-Saxon principles in Dutch society. Despite its Rhineland roots with a focus on welfare provision, in the Netherlands several neoliberal principles (privatization, decentralization, deregulation) have been adopted by government and incorporated in the management of organizations (Bakker et al., 2005). Hence, market institutionalization on the one hand, and rising civic emancipation on the other, in current Western societies prevents a return towards hierarchical governance. Second, the result of such changes is the emergence of a market-oriented type of planning practice based on the concept of ‘development planning’. Public-Private Partnerships and the ‘forward integration’ of market parties (De Zeeuw, 2007) enforce the role of market actors. In historical perspective, Boelens et al. (2006) argue that Dutch spatial planning always has been characterized by public-private collaborations in which governments facilitated private and civic entrepreneurship. Therefore, post-war public-led spatial planning with necessary government intervention was a ‘temporary hiccup’, an exception to the rule. Third, the European Commission expresses concerns about the hybrid role of public actors in Dutch institutionalized PPP joint ventures. EU legislation opts for formal public-private role divisions in realizing urban projects based on Anglo-Saxon law that comply with the legislative tendering principles of competition, transparency, equality, and public legitimacy. Fourth, experiences with joint ventures in the Netherlands are less positive as often is advocated. Such institutionalized public-private entities have seldom generated the assumed added value, caused by misconceptions about the objectives of both partners grounded in incompatible value systems. This results in contra-productive levels of distrust, time-consuming partnership formations, lack of transparency, and compromising decision-making processes (Teisman & Klijn, 2002), providing a need for other forms of collaboration. Finally, current financial retrenchments in the public sector and debates about the possible abundance of Dutch active land development policies point towards a lean and mean government that moves away from risk-bearing participation and investment in urban projects and leaves this to the market. Importantly, Van der Krabben (2011b) argues that the Dutch active public land development policies can be considered as an international exception, and advocates for facilitating land development policies. In this light, it becomes highly relevant to study private sector-led urban development as a future Dutch urban development strategy. Integrative urban management approach This research is rooted in the research school of Urban Area Development within the Department of Real Estate and Housing at the Faculty of Architecture (Delft University of Technology). It is a relatively young academic domain which views urban development most profoundly as a complex management assignment (Bruil et al., 2004; Franzen et al., 2011). This academic school uses an integrative perspective with a strong practice-orientation and carries out solution-oriented design research. Here, the integration involves bridging various actor interests, spatial functions, spatial scales, academic domains, knowledge and skills, development goals, and links process with content aspects. Such a perspective does justice to complex societal processes. Therefore it provides a fruitful ground for studying urban development aimed at developing conceptual knowledge and product for science and practice. Such integrative perspective and practice-orientation forms the basis of this research and has been applied in the following manner. In order to create an understanding of the roles of public and private actors in private sector-led urban development, this research takes a management perspective based on an integrative management approach. This involves viewing management more broadly as ‘any type of direct influencing’ urban development projects, and therefore aims at bridging often separated management theories (Osborne, 2000a). Hence, an integrative management approach assists in both understanding urban development practices and projects and constructing useful conceptual tools for practitioners and academics. Integrative approaches attempt to combine a number of different elements into a more holistic management approach (Black & Porter, 2000). Importantly, it does not view the management of projects in isolation but in its entire complexity and dynamics. Therefore, our management approach combines two integrative management theories; the open systems theory (De Leeuw, 2002) and contingency theory. The former provides opportunities to study the management of a project in a structured manner. The latter emphasizes that there is no universally effective way of managing and recognizes the importance of contextual circumstances. Hence, an integrative management approach favors incorporating theories from multiple academic domains such as political science, economics, law, business administration, and organizational and management concepts. Hence, it moves away from the classical academic division between planning theory and property theory, and organization and management theories. It positions itself in between such academic domains, and aims at bridging theoretical viewpoints by following the concept of planning ánd markets (Alexander, 2001) rather than concepts such as ‘planning versus markets’, public versus private sector, and organization versus management. Also, such an integrative view values the complexity and dynamics of empirical urban development practices. More specifically, this research studies urban development projects as object, as urban areas are the focus point of spatial intervention and public-private interaction (Daamen, 2010), and thus collaboration and management. Here, public planning processes and private development processes merge with each other. Thus, our research continues to build upon the importance of studying and reflecting on empirical practices and projects (e.g. Healey, 2006). In addition to these authors, this research does so by using meaningful integrative concepts that reflect empirical realities of urban projects. Thereby, this research serves to bridge management sciences with management practices (Van Aken, 2004; Mintzberg, 2010) through iterative processes of reflecting on science and practice. Moreover, the integrative management approach applied in this research assists in filling an academic gap, namely the lack of management knowledge about public-private interaction in urban development projects. Despite the vast amount of literature on the governance of planning practices (e.g. DiGaetano & Strom, 2003), and Public-Private Partnerships (e.g. Osborne, 2000b), remarkable little knowledge exists about what shifting public-private relationships mean for day-to-day management by public and private actors in development projects. Hence, here we follow the main argument made by public administration scholar Klijn (2008) who claims that it is such direct actor influence that brings about the most significant change to the built environment. An integrative urban management model (see Figure 2.3) based on the open systems approach has been constructed which forms a conceptual representation of empirical private sectorled urban development projects. This model serves as an analytical tool to comprehend the complexity of managing such projects. In this research, several theoretical insights about publicprivate relations and roles are used to understand different contextual and organizational factors that affect the management of private sector-led urban development projects. Hence, a project context exists within different often country-specific institutional environments (e.g. the Netherlands and UK). In this research, contextual aspects that to a degree determine the way public and private actors inter-organize urban projects, consist of economics & politics, governance cultures, and planning systems and policies. Hence, institutional values are deeply rooted in social welfare models (Nadin & Stead, 2008). For instance, the differences between Anglo-Saxon and Rhineland model principles also determine public-private relationships. However, the process of neoliberalization (Hackworth, 2007) and subsequent adaptation of neoliberal political ideologies (Harvey, 2005) has created quite similar governance arrangements in Western countries. Nevertheless, institutional rules incorporated in planning systems, laws and policies often remain country-specific. But, market-oriented planning, involving ‘planners as market actors’ (Adams & Tiesdell, 2010) intervening and operating within market systems, have become the most commonly shared feature of contemporary Western urban development practices (Carmona et al., 2009). In this research, the project organization focuses on institutional aspects and interorganizational arrangements that structure Public-Private Partnerships (Bult-Spiering & Dewulf, 2002). It involves studying organizational tasks and responsibilities, financial risks and revenues, and legal rules and requirements. Inter-organizational arrangements condition the way public and private actors manage projects. Hence, such arrangements can be placed on a public-private spectrum (Börzel & Risse, 2002) which indicates different power relations in terms of public and private autonomy and dominance (Savitch, 1997) in making planning decisions. These public-private power relations are reflected in different Public-Private Partnership arrangements (Bennet et al., 2000) in urban development projects. As a result, in some contexts these partnerships arrangements are formalized into organizational vehicles or legal contracts, in others there is an emphasis on informal partnerships and interaction. The lack of management knowledge on private sector-led urban development projects, and our view of management as any type of direct influencing, results in constructing a conceptual public-private urban management model (see Figure SUM.1). This model is based on both theoretical concepts and empirical reflection. In this research, the management of project processes by public and private actors contains applying both management activities and instruments. Project management (Wijnen et al., 2004) includes development stage-oriented initiating, designing, planning, and operating activities. Process management (Teisman, 2003) includes interaction-oriented negotiating, decision-making, and communicating activities. Management tools consist of legal-oriented shaping, regulating, stimulating, and capacity building planning tools (Adams et al., 2004). And management resources consist of crucial necessities (Burie, 1978) for realizing urban projects like land, capital and knowledge. In essence, all these management measures can be applied by public and private actors to influence (private sector-led) urban development projects. These management measures can be used by actors to reach project effects. In this research, project effects are perceived as judgment criteria for indicating the success of the management of private sector-led urban development projects. They consist of cooperation effectiveness, process efficiency, and spatial quality. Effectiveness involves the degree to which objectives are achieved and problems are resolved. Ef ficiency is the degree to which the process is considered as efficiently realizing projects within time and budget. Finally, spatial quality is the degree to which the project contributes to responding to user, experience and future values of involved actors (Hooijmeijer et al., 2001). Such process and product effects are a crucial addition to understand the results of private sector-led urban development projects. Comparative case study research using a lesson-drawing method This research systematically analyzes and compares private sector-led urban development cases in both the Netherlands and the UK in a specific methodological way. In essence, this study is an empirical comparative case study research using a lesson-drawing method. Hence, case studies allow for an empirical inquiry that investigates a contemporary phenomenon within its real life context (Yin, 2003). Such a qualitative approach is very suited for the purposes of this research as it enables revealing empirical collaborative and managerial mechanisms within private sector-led urban development projects. The reason to include studying the UK lies is the fact that it can be considered as a market-oriented development practice, from which valuable lessons can be drawn for the Netherlands. Thereby, this research places itself in a longer tradition of Dutch interests in UK planning and development (e.g. Hobma et al., 2008). Hence, this research aims at drawing lessons in the form of ‘inspiration’ from practices and projects, as opposed to the more far-reaching transplantation of spatial policies (e.g. Janssen-Jansen et al., 2008). However, in order to draw meaningful empirical lessons there is a need to indicate whether they are context-dependent or -independent. This requires systematically comparing the institutional planning practices of both countries by indicating differences and similarities between the Netherlands and the UK. Based on these methodological principles ten Dutch and two UK of private sector-led urban development cases are selected and studied. The Dutch cases focus on scope over depth aimed at sketching the phenomenon of ‘area concessions’ in both inner-city and urban fringe projects. The UK cases focus on depth over scope aimed at understanding the applicability of a private sector-led approach in complex large-scale inner-city projects. As techniques the case study research uses document reviews, semi-structured interviews, project visits, and data mapping. Comparing Dutch and UK planning and urban development practices The institutional context of urban development in the Netherlands and the UK shows some structural differences, despite the fact that such contexts are often subject to change. For instance, the Dutch planning system uses Napoleonic codified law based on a constitution with abstract law principles as rule, and a limited role of judicial power. The UK planning system is based on British common law lacking a constitution, and uses law-making-as-we-go as judges act as law-makers. In terms of spatial planning, the Netherlands is characterized by binding land use plans within a limited-imperative system based on legal certainty. Dutch spatial planning can be labelled as ‘permitted planning’ based on ‘comprehensive integrative model’ (Dühr et al., 2010) which involves hierarchically coordinated and related public sector spatial plans. UK spatial planning has no binding land use plan, places importance on material considerations based on discretionary authority and flexibility. Historically, UK’s spatial planning can be labelled as ‘development-oriented planning’ based on a ‘land use management model’ with a focus on public sector coordinated planning policies. Moreover, Dutch and UK urban development also differ in terms of public and private roles in organizing and managing development (Heurkens, 2009). In the Netherlands, local governments are active bodies using spatial plans, active land development policies and public investment to develop cities. The private sector often operates reactively and is historically focused on the physical realization of projects. In general, public-private decision-making processes are based on reaching consensus, development project coordination typically involves ‘collaboration models’, and management is focused on process as product outcomes. In the UK, local government uses relatively less regulations and investment to develop cities, thereby facilitating market parties. The development industry is a mature sector, actively initiating and investing in projects. Decision-making is characterized by negotiations, and the organization of projects is often based on a clear formal public-private role division. Despite such a generic Dutch-UK comparison being of crucial importance to this research, it does no justice to increasing similarities between European planning practices. Moreover, such institutional contexts evolve as a result of changing planning priorities in each country. For instance, some basic characteristics of the UK planning system attracted the attention of Dutch planners, including comprehensive principles for project coordination, private sector involvement and negotiations, options for the settlement of ‘planning gain’, packaging interests, development-oriented planning, and discretion for planning decisions (Spaans, 2005). Hence, such more market-oriented planning principles have become valuable and sometimes necessary mechanisms to effectively cope with an increasingly less public-led and more private sector-led Dutch urban development practice. Empirical findings from Dutch private sector-led urban development cases Urban development practice in the Netherlands since the year 2000 witnessed an increased use of the concession model. Hence, this is the Dutch definition for private sector-led urban development. It can best be characterized as a contract form between public and private parties which involves the transfer of risks, revenues, responsibilities for the plan, land and real estate development to private developers based on pre-defined set of public requirements (Gijzen, 2009). In theory (Van Rooy, 2007; Van de Klundert, 2008; Heurkens et al., 2008) this collaboration model holds promising advantages of being a more effective, efficient and transparent strategy to achieve a high quality built environment. Nonetheless, possible disadvantages like the lack of public ‘steering’, dependency of market actors and circumstances, inflexible contracts, a project management orientation, and a stern public-private relationship also are mentioned. Moreover, conditions for the application of concessions in theory involve a manageable project scale and duration, minimal political and societal complexity, and maximum freedom for private actors. Motives for choosing concessions are the lack of public labor capacity and financial development means, risk transfer to private actors, increasing private initiatives and private land ownership. Hence, in theory public and private roles in the concession model are considered as strictly separated. However, there is a lack of structural empirical understanding and evidence for such theoretical assumptions. Therefore, empirical cases in Amsterdam, The Hague, Enschede, Maassluis, Middelburg, Naaldwijk, Rotterdam, Tilburg, Utrecht, and Velsen (see Table 5.1) are carried out. This includes studying private sector-led projects in both inner-city and urban fringe locations. The main conclusions based on cross-case study findings of these ten Dutch projects are highlighted here. Notice that public-private interaction and collaboration remains of vital importance in Dutch private sector-led urban development projects. Despite the formal contractual separation of public and private tasks and responsibilities, in practice close informal cooperation can be witnessed, especially in the early development stages. Moreover, public actors do not remain as risk free as theory suggests, because unfavorable market circumstances can cause development delays affecting the living environment of inhabitants. Furthermore, it seems that constructing and using flexible public requirements with some non-negotiable rules is an effective condition for realizing public objectives during the process. In terms of management, most projects are hardly considered as solely private sector-led, as they involve a substantial amount of public management influence. For instance, project management activities include a dominant role of municipalities in initiating and operating the development. Process management activities are carried out by both actors, as they involve close public-private interactions. Management tools are mostly used by public actors to shape and regulate development with a limited conscious usage of stimulating and capacity building tools. Using the management resources land, capital and knowledge are mainly a private affair. In terms of effects, the concession model by actors is considered as an effective instrument, but not necessarily results in efficient processes. The general perception of public, private and civic actors about the project’s spatial quality level is positive. In addition, actors were asked about their cooperation experiences. Often mentioned problems include a ‘we against them relationship’, lack of public role consistency, thin line between plan judgment and control, public manager’s commitment and competency, communication with local communities, and lack of public management opportunities. Based on the empirical case studies, most conditions for applying concessions are confirmed. However, the successful inner-city development projects in Amsterdam and Enschede indicate that a private sector-led approach can also be applied to more complex urban development projects within cities. Empirical findings from UK’s private sector-led urban development cases Urban development practice in the UK often is labelled as urban regeneration. Historically, it is strongly shaped by neoliberal political ideology of the Conservative Thatcher government in the 1980s. But it also is influenced by New Labour ideologies favoring the Third Way (Giddens, 1998) aimed at aligning economic, social and environmental policies. However, as a result of these institutional characteristics, the UK is strongly shaped by the understanding that most development is undertaken by private interests or by public bodies acting very much like private interests (Nadin et al., 2008). In general, local authorities depend on initiatives and investments of property developers and investors, because public financial resources and planning powers to actively develop land are limited. As a result, development control of private developments is a concept deeply embedded in development practice. Several legal instruments such as Section 106 agreements are used to establish planning gain by asking developer contributions for public functions. Moreover, urban development in the UK has a strong informal partnership culture, and simultaneously builds upon a strict formal legal public-private role division. These UK urban development practice characteristics provide valid reasons to study private sector-led urban development projects in more detail. The empirical cases of private sector-led urban development projects in the UK are Bristol Harbourside and Liverpool One. They represent mid-2000s strategic inner-city developments with a mixed-use functional program, and therefore possible high complexity. As such, they are relevant urban projects for drawing lessons for the Netherlands. The main conclusions based on cross-case study findings of the UK projects are discussed here. The case contexts show that politics and the often changeable nature of planning policies can have a major influence on the organization and management of development projects. Hence, strong and effective political leadership is considered as a crucial success factor. Changing policies result in re-establishing development conditions resulting in new publicprivate negotiations. In terms of organization, the cases indeed show that local authorities do not take on development risks. Moreover, revenue sharing with private actors is absent or limited to what the actors agree upon in development packages. Furthermore, local authorities encourage all kinds of partnerships with other public, private or civic stakeholders in order to generate development support and raise funds. In terms of management, local authorities use different management measures to influence projects. The cases indicate that public actors are able to influence private sector-led developments and thereby achieve public planning objectives. Importantly, public actors use all kinds of managing tools to shape and stimulate development; they do not limit themselves to regulation but also build capacity for development. However, the largest share of managing the project takes place on behalf of project developers. Private actors manage projects from initial design towards even public space operation (Liverpool). Thereby, they work with long-term investment business models increasing private commitment. In terms of effects, the cases show that although the projects are carried out effectively and achieve high quality levels, the process efficiency lacks behind due to lengthy negotiations. In conclusion, the actors’ experiences with the private sector-led urban development projects indicate some problems including; the financial dependency on private actors, lack of financial incentives for public actors, lack of awareness of civic demands, lack of controlling public opposition, long negotiation processes, and absence of skilled public managers. Moreover, the actors indicate some crucial conditions for a private sectorled approach including; flexible general public guidelines, informal partnerships and joint working, public and private leadership roles and skills, professional attitude and long term commitment of private actors, involvement of local communities, separating public planning and development roles, handling political pressures, and favorable market circumstances. Empirical lessons, improvements and inspiration Some general conclusions from the Dutch and UK case comparison can be drawn (see Table 8.1). The influence of the project’s context in the UK seems to be higher than in the Netherlands, especially political powers and changeable policies influence projects. The organizational role division in UK projects seems to be stricter than in the Dutch projects, where public requirements sometimes are also formulated in more detail. The actor’s management in the Dutch cases is slightly less private sector-led than in the UK, where local authorities and developers are more aware of how to use management measures at their disposal. The project effects show quite some resemblance; effectiveness and spatial quality can be achieved, while efficiency remains difficult to achieve due to the negotiation culture. Here, important empirical lessons learned from cases in both countries are discussed aimed at formulating possible solutions for perceived Dutch problems. The problematic Dutch ‘we against them relationship’ between actors in the UK is handled by a close collaboration. Developers organize regular informative and interactive design meetings with local authorities, sharing ideas in a ‘joint-up working’ atmosphere. The lack of public role consistency in the UK is resolved by local authorities that develop a clear schedule of spatial requirements which provides certainty. Moreover, room for negotiations allows for the flexibility to react on changed circumstances. The thin line between judgment and control of plans is not commonly recognized in the UK cases. Local authorities tend to respect that developers need room to carry out development activities on their own professional insights, and merely control if developers deliver ‘product specifications’ in time and to agreed conditions. The commitment and competencies of public project managers are also mentioned as crucial factors in the UK. It involves managers connecting the project to the political and civic environment, and leaders committing themselves to project support through communication with local communities. The lack of public management seems to be a Dutch perceived difficulty as UK local authorities do not apply active land development policies and ‘hard’ management resources. Therefore, they influence development with both more consciously applied legal tools and ‘soft’ management skills such as negotiating. Recommended improvements mentioned by Dutch practitioners here are mirrored to possible support from the UK cases. The Dutch recommendation to cooperate in pre-development stages to create public project support and commitment finds support in the UK. Hence, despite a formal division of public and private responsibilities, in practice a lot of informal public-private interaction and collaboration takes place and seems necessary. Striving for public role consistency also is an appreciated value by developers in the UK. Working on the principle of ‘agreement is agreement’ creates certainty for developers, and less resistance and willingness to cooperate once highly relevant public issues are put on the table. Establishing clear process agreements with moments of control or discussion in the UK are handled with evaluation moments aimed at judging output, and planned meetings aimed at creating a dialogue about new insights. Connecting planning and development processes in the UK is handled by a municipal team consisting of political leaders and project managers that align development processes with administrative planning processes. A clear communication plan to involve local communities and businesses in the UK is handled by developers which involve relevant stakeholders in the decision-making process prior to planning applications for support and process efficiency. Finding public opportunities to influence development other than land and capital in the UK is handled through the use of several public planning tools and publicprivate negotiations. The UK cases also provided various inspirational lessons for the Netherlands. First, the construction and application of a public ‘management toolbox’ consisting of various planning tools that shape, stimulate, regulate and activate the market could assist local authorities to view management more integratively and use existing instruments more consciously. Second, choosing a private development partner with professional expertise, track record and local knowledge, instead of an economically lucrative private tender offer for private sector-led urban development projects, has the advantage of creating a cooperative relationship. The reason for this is that flexible development concepts rather than fixed development plans are indicators of a cooperative attitude of a developer. Third, enabling partnership agreements between public, private and civic actors aimed at creating wide support and long-term commitment by expressing development intentions assists pulling together development resources from both investors and central government. Fourth, privately-owned public space based on a land lease agreement containing public space conditions creates several financial advantages. For local authorities it eliminates public maintenance costs, and for private actors the operation of the area and maintaining high quality standards can be beneficial for real estate sales and returns. Fifth, the value increase-oriented investment model of a long-term private development investor rather than a short-term project-oriented developer with a trade-off model between time, costs and quality has advantages. Large amounts of upfront investment can more easily be financed as high quality environments and properties increase the area’s competitive position and investment returns. Sixth, local authorities can establish partnerships that actively apply for public funding alternatives such as lottery funds. Such funds secure the development of public functions and create interest for commercial actors to invest, which can result possibilities to negotiate development packages which can results in a planning gain for public actors. Seventh, public and private leadership styles on different organizational levels for inner-city development projects result in more efficient processes. Appointing strategictactical operating political leaders and private firm directors and tactical-operational public and private project leaders streamlines internal and external communication and shared project commitment and support. Finally, the UK shows that a private sector-led approach can successfully be applied to complex inner-city developments. Despite the complex social and political character, fragmented land ownership situation, and high remediation costs UK developers can deliver such projects succesfully. Conditions seem a professionally skilled and financially empowered developer, and active local authorities that facilitate market initiatives. The likelihood of transfer of the inspirational UK lessons depends on some Dutch institutional characteristics (economics & politics, governance culture, planning system and policies). However, most lessons are context-independent and thus can be applied in the Dutch urban development practice. But, Table 8.2 also shows some institutional context-dependent features that limit the transfer of UK findings to the Netherlands. This includes the general short-term scope of Dutch developers and the general wish from municipalities to hold ‘control’ over development projects. Reflections on safeguarding public interests & alternative financing instruments The epilogue contains conceptual reflections about alternative ways for safeguarding public interests and private financing instruments in line with the current social-economic climate. These reflections are not based on research findings but on an additional literature review that provides food for thought for public and private actors in urban development. Hence, safeguarding public interests is an important concern for public actors, especially in market-oriented planning and private sector-led urban development projects. In our pluralistic society it has become impossible for one actor to determine the public interest in all occasions. In line with societal development it would not only be socially-coherent for governments to engage private and civic actors in safeguarding public interests, but even a social necessity. Consciously applying different public interest safeguarding strategies based on both hierarchical, market and network mechanisms (De Bruijn & Dicke, 2006) provide this opportunity. By using a combination of legitimized hierarchical mechanisms, competitionoriented market mechanisms, and inter-action oriented network mechanisms, public values become institutionalized in private and civic sectors. Then, the role of public planning institutions in safeguarding increasing economic values, social cohesion and public health is to use both legitimate planning tools and accountable planning activities. It enables other actors to become both more responsible for and involved in their own built environment. In market-oriented planning and private sector-led urban projects, safeguarding public interest instruments include non-negotiable general planning standards which secure basic needs of civilians, and negotiable development conditions which create involvement of other actors. Non-negotiable safeguarding instruments include; public tender requirements, land use plans, planning permissions and financial claims. Negotiable safeguarding instruments include; contractual conditions, competitive dialogues, spatial quality plans, developer contributions, development incentives, performance indicators, and ownership (see Figure 10.2). The reliance of private investment in private sector-led urban development projects asks for exploring alternative financing instruments for urban projects with less reliance on credit capital. This is a crucial subject being the result of the effect the current economic situation has on the land and property market. Hence, it is widely acknowledged that in many development practices around the globe property investment for urban development has changed radically as a result of the international credit crisis and economic downturn (Parkinson et al., 2009). ‘New financial models’ have the attention of several Dutch practitioners (e.g. Van Rooy, 2011) and academics (e.g. Van der Krabben, 2011b). In the current Dutch urban development practice, one notices an increased interest in demand-driven development strategies promoting; bottom-up development initiatives, value-oriented investment strategies, and de-risked phasing of development, which potentially increase the feasibility of urban projects. A literature review indicates promising alternative financing instruments for Dutch urban development practice and private sector-led urban development projects, including; Tax Increment Financing, Temporary Development/Investment Grants, Lottery Funds, DBFM/ Concession Light, Crowd Funding, Urban Development Trusts, Business Improvement Districts, and Urban Reparcelling. These instruments have different features such as investment source, development incentives, organizational requirements and object conditions, which need to be taken into account by public and private actors once applied (see Table 10.3).