Peace and Planning

As mentioned in my last post, I recently attended the first-ever Crossroads Convening. It was remarkable to see what the volunteer leadership team pulled together with little in the way of time or resources, and it was equally remarkable to see the demand for what was on offer – what a joy to see so many people gathered to talk about mobility justice and transportation equity! I felt lucky that it was hosted in my metaphorical backyard and was thankful that (unlike TRB) it didn’t cost an arm and a leg to attend (it was free!).

One theme that came up in every session I attended was the importance of “engaging the community.” Unfortunately I have an involuntary reflex every time I hear this phrase uttered wherein my eyes move in a large circular motion that roughly matches the contours of my eyelids (read: 🙄). First of all, this idea is usually presented as if it were novel – if I had a dollar for every time I heard it, I would have enough money to afford a TRB ticket. Second, it is used with no specificity nor any critical thinking, so much so that it is functionally useless. I hate to be a snobby academic type but it is, dare I say, intellectually lazy.

This is not to say that I disagree with the premise. It’s terrific in theory; the issue is that in practice it is incredibly problematic, especially in a transportation context.

• As I’ve mentioned in a previous post, “community” is always used in the singular rather than the plural “communities.” But communities are not monoliths – in their identities, in their experiences, in their opinions, in their needs (the latter two of which are not always aligned). When we say “community,” it belies the complex social structures inherent in any “community” and simplifies the deep and persistent challenges of “community engagement.” In turn, it perpetuates the idea that there is a cabal of bureaucrats that are ignoring the singular desire of “the community” rather than recognizing that there are public servants trying to meet the needs of many (and diverse) groups of people with many (and contrasting) viewpoints.
• Indeed, there might be times when those public servants actually have some knowledge, expertise, and access to data that your average private citizen simply doesn’t have. As just one of many examples, when someone “in the community” says that installing a protected bike lane will hurt businesses, research has shown that such a belief is exactly that: it is factually wrong and planners who (or at least should) treat it as such should not be vilified.
• When we use the term community, we don’t articulate what community we’re referring to or how we’re defining community. When it comes to transportation projects, is it based on who has lived in the area the longest (and therefore somehow claims the most legitimate voice)? Is it based on geographic proximity to a project? Is it by level of benefit/amount of impact? Given that transportation systems derive their value from connectivity, you can imagine how defining impact and benefit requires looking far beyond neighborhood tenure or geographic proximity and how quickly our notion of “community” might expand to capture a much broader – and more complicated – constituency.
• Perhaps most importantly, it fails to account for the fact that a “community” might want something that is contrary to the “public interest” urban planners are bound to serve. As my research suggests, the “community” might act in ways to maintain their power over roads and resources, marginalizing other road users along the way. To connect this to my previous point, are we defining community by who uses the street currently – or who cannot use the street currently but has a right to?

These are just a few of the many reasons (not to mention the lack of recognition for how the process of or outputs from engagement practices in and of themselves cultivate – or undermine – the sense of community the speaker is assuming) my eyes roll when I hear such a loaded term used so casually. Again, this is not to suggest that no input shared from a member of a community is not legitimate. Indeed, there are plenty of instances where I have been incensed when government officials have ignored very real concerns about safety, health, and community well-being raised by people who have been harmed by our transportation system. Rather, I think the role of community engagement is to expose us to the lived experiences of people who have radically different backgrounds and needs from us, to build an intimate understanding of how our decisions will impact those least well-served by our mobility networks (kids, elders, people with disabilities, communities of color, low-income folks), and to ensure we are dismantling moral injustices that have long been baked into our mobility systems.

How might we rethink our notions of “community” when we plan transportation networks? Stay tuned for my thoughts on this – in the meantime, I invite you to get curious – what comes to mind when you imagine a peaceful transportation system? ☮️🚸