[转]&雅各布斯与美国规划的生与死
/feature/jane-jacobs-and-the-death-and-life-of-american-planning/25188/
ESSAY: THOMAS J. CAMPANELLA
Jane Jacobs and the Death and Life of
American Planning
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TITLE="[转]&雅各布斯与美国规划的生与死" />
"Construction Potentials: Postwar Prospects and Problems, a Basis
for Action,"Architectural Record, 1943; prepared by the
F.W. Dodge Corporation Committee on Postwar Construction Markets.
[Drawing by Julian Archer]
And the end of all our exploring&
Will be to arrive where we
And know the place for the first
— T. S. Eliot, "Little Gidding"&
During a recent retreat here at Chapel Hill, planning faculty
conducted a brainstorming session in which each professor —
including me — was asked to list, anonymously, some of the major
issues and concerns facing the profession today. These lists were
then collected and transcribed on the whiteboard. All the expected
themes were there — sustainability and global warming, equity and
justice, peak oil, immigration, urban sprawl and public health,
retrofitting suburbia, and so on. But also on the board appeared,
like a sacrilegious graffito, the words "Trivial Profession." [1]
When we voted to rank the listed items in order of importance,
"Trivial Profession" was placed — lo and behold — close to the top.
This surprised and alarmed a number of us. Here were members of one
of the finest planning faculties in America, at one of the most
respected programs in the world, suggesting that their chosen field
was minor and irrelevant.&
Now, even the most parochial among us would probably agree that
urban planning is not one of society's bedrock professions, such as
law or medicine or perhaps economics. It is indeed a minor field,
and that's fine. Nathan Glazer, in his well-known essay "Schools of
the Minor Professions," labeled
"minor"&every&profession
outside law and medicine. Not even clerics or divines made his cut.
Moreover, Glazer observed that attempts on the part of
"occupations" such as urban planning to transform themselves "into
professions in the older sense, and the assimilation of their
programmes of training into academic institutions, have not gone
smoothly." [2] But minority status by itself is not why "Trivial
Profession" appeared on the whiteboard. It was there because of a
swelling perception, especially among young scholars and
practitioners, that planning is a diffuse and ineffective field,
and that it has been largely unsuccessful over the last half
century at its own game: bringing about more just, sustainable,
healthful, efficient and beautiful cities and regions. It was there
because of a looming sense that planners in America lack the agency
or authority to turn idealism into reality, that planning has
neither the prestige nor the street cred to effect real
To understand the roots of this sense of impotence requires us to
dial back to the great cultural shift that occurred in planning
beginning in the 1960s. The seeds of discontent sown then brought
forth new and needed growth, which nonetheless choked out three
vital aspects of the profession —
its&disciplinary
identity,professional
authority&and&visionary
capacity.&
It is well known that city planning in the United States evolved
out of the landscape architectural profession during the late
Olmsted era. Planning's core expertise was then grounded and
tangible, concerned chiefly with accommodating human needs and
functions on the land, from the scale of the site to that of entire
regions. One of the founders of the Chapel Hill program, F. Stuart
Chapin, Jr. (whose first degree was in architecture), described
planning as "a means for systematically anticipating and achieving
adjustment in the physical environment of a city consistent with
social and economic trends and sound principles of civic design."
[3] The goal was to create physical settings that would help bring
about a more prosperous, efficient and equitable society. And in
many ways the giants of prewar planning — Olmsted Jr., Burnham,
Mumford, Stein and Wright, Nolen, and Gilmore D. Clarke — were
successful in doing just that.&
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TITLE="[转]&雅各布斯与美国规划的生与死" />
"Construction Potentials: Postwar Prospects and Problems, a Basis
for Action,"Architectural Record, 1943; prepared by the
F.W. Dodge Corporation Committee on Postwar Construction Markets.
[Drawing by Julian Archer]
The postwar period was something else altogether. By then,
middle-class Americans were buying cars and moving to the suburbs
in record numbers. The urban core was being depopulated. Cities
were losing their tax base, buildings were being abandoned,
neighborhoods were falling victim to blight. Planners and civic
leaders were increasingly desperate to save their cities. Help came
soon enough from Uncle Sam. Passage of
with its infamous Title I proviso, made urban renewal a legitimate
target for federal funding. Flush with cash, city redevelopment
agencies commissioned urban planners to prepare slum-clearance
master plans. Vibrant ethnic neighborhoods — including the one my
mother grew up in near the Brooklyn Navy Yard — were blotted out by
Voisinian superblocks or punched through with expressways meant to
make downtown accessible to suburbanites. Postwar urban planners
thus abetted some of the most egregious acts of urban vandalism in
American history. Of course, they did not see it this way. Most
believed, like Lewis Mumford, that America’s cities were suffering
an urban cancer wholly untreatable by the "home remedies" Jane
Jacobs was brewing and that the strong medicine of slum clearance
was just what the doctor ordered. Like their architect colleagues,
postwar planners had drunk the Corbusian Kool-Aid and were too
intoxicated to see the harm they were
Thus ensued the well-deserved backlash against superblock urbanism
and the authoritarian, we-experts-know-best brand of planning that
backed it. And the backlash came, of course, from a bespectacled
young journalist named Jane Jacobs. Her
much like the paperwork Luther nailed to the Schlosskirche
Wittenberg four centuries earlier, sparked a reformation — this
time within planning. To the rising generation of planners, coming
of age in an era of cultural ferment and rebellion, Jacobs was a
patron saint. The young idealists soon set about rewiring the
field. The ancien r&gime was put on trial for failures real and
imagined, for not responding adequately to the urban crisis, and
especially for ignoring issues of poverty and racism. But change
the field was plunged into disarray. A glance
at the July 1970&Journal
of the American Institute of Planners&reveals
a profession gripped by a crisis of mission, purpose and relevance.
As the authors of one article — fittingly titled "Holding Together"
— asked, how could this well-meaning discipline transform itself
"against a background of trends in the society and the profession
that invalidate many of the assumptions underlying traditional
planning education"? [4]&
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TITLE="[转]&雅各布斯与美国规划的生与死" />
Plan for Better Cities, first day cover, Charles R.
Chickering/Cachet Craft (1967). [Courtesy of Thomas
Campanella]
One way was to disgorge itself of the muscular
physical-interventionist focus that had long been planning’s
m&tier. King Laius was thus slain by Oedipus, in love with "Mother
Jacobs," as Mumford derisively called her. [5] Forced from his
lofty perch, the once-mighty planner found himself in a hot and
crowded city street. No longer would he twirl a compass above the
city like a conductor’s baton, as did the anonymous planner
depicted on the 1967 stamp Plan for Better Cities (on the First Day
Cover illustration, he even wears a pinky ring!). So thoroughly
internalized was the Jacobs critique that planners could see only
folly and failure in the work of their forebears. Burnham’s grand
went from a battle cry to an embarrassment in less than a decade.
Even so revered a figure as&&was
now a pariah. Jacobs herself described the good man — one of the
great progressives of the late Victorian era — as a mere "court
reporter," a clueless amateur who yearned "to do the city in" with
"powerful and city-destroying ideas." [6] Indeed, to Jacobs, not
just misguided American urban renewal but the entire enterprise of
visionary, rational, centralized planning was suspect. She was as
opposed to new towns as she was to slum clearance — anything that
threatened the vitality of traditional urban forms was the enemy.
It is largely forgotten that the popular United Kingdom edition
and Life&was
subtitled "The Failure of Town Planning." How odd that such a
conservative, even reactionary, stance would galvanize an entire
generation.&
The Jacobsians sought fresh methods of making cities work — from
the grassroots and the bottom up. The subaltern was exalted, the
master laid low. Drafting tables were tossed for pickets and
surveys and spreadsheets. Planners sought new alliances in academe,
beyond architecture and design — in political science, law,
economics, sociology. But there were problems. First, none of the
social sciences were primarily con at best
they could be only partial allies. Second, planning was not taken
seriously by these fields. The schoolboy crush was not returned,
making the relationship unequal from the start. Even today it's
rare for a social science department to hire a planning PhD, while
planning programs routinely hire academics with doctorates in
economics and political science. Indeed, Nathan Glazer observed
that one of the hallmarks of a minor profession is that faculty
with "outside" doctorates actually
enjoy&higher
prestige&than
those with degrees in the profession itself. [7] They also tend to
have minimal allegiance to planning.
This brings us to the first of the three legacies of the Jacobsian
turn:&It&diminished
the disciplinary identity of planning.
While the expanded range of scholarship and practice in the
post-urban renewal era diversified the field, that diversification
came at the expense of an established expertise — strong,
centralized physical planning — that had given the profession
visibility and identity both within academia and among "place"
professions such as architecture and landscape architecture. My
students are always astonished to learn just how toxic and
stigmatized physical planning — today a popular concentration — had
become by the 1970s. Like a well-meaning surgeon who botches an
operation, planners were (correctly) blamed for the excesses of
urban renewal and many other problems then facing American cities.
But the planning baby was thrown out with the urban-renewal
bathwater. And once the traditional focus of physical planning was
lost, the profession was effectively without a keel. It became
fragmented and balkanized, which has since created a kind of
chronic identity crisis — a nagging uncertainty about purpose and
relevance. Certainly in the popular imagination, physical planning
was what planners did — they choreographed the buildings and
infrastructure on the land. By the mid-1970s, however, even
educated laypersons would have difficulty understanding what the
profession was all about. Today, planners themselves often have a
hard time explaining the purpose of their profession. By forgoing
its traditional focus and expanding too quickly, planning became a
jack-of-all-trades, master of none. And so it
The second legacy of the Jacobsian revolution is related to the
first:&Privileging
the grassroots over plannerly authority&and
expertise meant a loss of professional agency.
In rejecting the muscular interventionism of the Burnham-Moses
sort, planners in the 1960s identified instead with the victims of
urban renewal. New mechanisms were devised to empower ordinary
citizens to guide the planning process. This was an extraordinary
I can think of no other profession
that has done anything like it. Imagine economists at the Federal
Reserve holding community meetings to decide the direction of
fiscal policy. Imagine public health officials giving equal weight
to the nutritional wisdom of teenagers — they are stakeholders,
after all! Granted, powering up the grassroots was necessary in the
1970s to stop expressway and renewal schemes that had run amok. But
it was power that could not easily be switched off. Tools and
processes introduced to ensure popular participation ended up
reducing the planner’s role to that of umpire or schoolyard
monitor. Instead of setting the terms of debate or charting a
course of action, planners now seemed content to be facilitators —
"mere&absorbers&of
public opinion," as Alex Krieger put it, "waiting for consensus to
build." [9]&
The fatal flaw of such populism is that no single group of citizens
— mainstream or marginalized, affluent or impoverished — can be
trusted to have the best interests of society or the environment in
mind when they evaluate a proposal. The literature on grassroots
planning tends to assume a citizenry of Gandhian humanists. In
fact, most people are not motivated by altruism but by
self-interest. Preservation and enhancement of that self-interest —
which usually orbits about the axes of rising crime rates and
falling property values — are the real drivers of community
activism. This is why it's a fool’s errand to rely upon citizens to
guide the planning process. Forget for a moment that most folks
lack the knowledge to make intelligent decisions about the future
of our cities. Most people are simply too busy, too apathetic, or
too focused on their jobs or kids to be moved to action over issues
unless those issues are at their doorstep. And once an issue is at
the doorstep, fear sets in and reason flies out the window. So the
very citizens least able to make objective decisions end up
dominating the process, often wielding near-veto power over
proposals.&
To be fair, passionate citizen activism has helped put an end to
some very bad projects, private as well as public. And sometimes
citizen self-interest and the greater good do overlap. In Orange
County, part of the Research Triangle and home to Chapel Hill,
grassroots activism stopped a proposed asphalt plant as well as a
six-lane bypass that would have ruined a pristine forest. But the
same community activism has at times devolved into NIMBYism,
causing several infill projects to be halted and helping drive
development to greenfield sites. (Cows are slow to organize.) It's
made the local homeless shelter homeless itself, almost ended a
Habitat for Humanity complex in Chapel Hill, and generated
opposition to a much-needed transit-oriented development in the
county seat of Hillsborough (more on this in a moment). And for
what it's worth, the shrillest opposition came not from rednecks or
Tea Party activists but from highly educated "creative class"
progressives who effectively weaponized Jane Jacobs to oppose
anything they perceived as threatening the status quo — including
projects that would reduce our carbon footprint, create more
affordable housing and shelter the homeless. NIMBYism, it turns
out, is the snake in the grassroots.
NIMBYism has been described as "the bitter fruit of a pluralistic
democracy in which all views carry equal weight." [10] And that,
sadly, includes the voice of the planner. In the face of an angry
public, plannerly wisdom and expertise have no more clout than the
ranting of
and this is a hazard to our
collective future. For who, if not the planner, will advocate on
behalf of society at large? All planning may be local, but the sum
of the local is national and eventually global. If we put parochial
interests ahead of broader needs, it will be impossible to build
the infrastructure essential to the long-range economic viability
of the United States — the commuter and high- the
dense, walkable, public-transit- the solar and
wind farms a perhaps even the nuclear power
stations.&
The third legacy of the Jacobsian turn is perhaps most troubling of
seeming paucity among American planners today of the speculative
courage and vision that once distinguished this
profession.
I'll ease into this subject by way of a story — one that will
appear to contradict some of what I just wrote about citizen-led
planning. I have served for several years now on the planning board
of Hillsborough, North Carolina, where my wife and I have lived
since 2004. Hillsborough, founded 1754, is a charming town some 10
miles north of Chapel Hill. It’s always reminded me of a grittier,
less precious version of Concord, Massachusetts. It has a long and
rich history, progressive leadership, and a thriving arts and
culture scene. It is also blessed with a palpable genius loci: "If
there are hot spots on the globe, as the ancients believed," writes
resident Frances Mayes, author
the Tuscan Sun,
"Hillsborough must be one of them." [11] The town is also located
on one of the region's main rail arteries, and has been since the
Civil War. Every day several Amtrak trains — including the
Carolinian, the fastest-growing U.S. passenger line — speed through
on their way to Charlotte and Raleigh, Washington and New York. But
a passenger train hasn't made a scheduled stop in Hillsborough
since March 1964, when Southern Railway ended service due to
declining ridership. After a century of connectivity, Hillsborough
and Orange County were cut loose from the nation's rail
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TITLE="[转]&雅各布斯与美国规划的生与死" />
Hillsborough Station master plan (2010); rendering by Thomas J.
Campanella. [Courtesy Orange County Rail Station Task
In late 2007 a group of residents in our local coffee shop, a
classic Oldenburg "third place" named Cup-A-Joe, got to talking
about reviving rail service. Soon a petition was drafted, and
within months several hundred had signed it. [12] At the same time,
I had students in my urban design and site planning class develop
schemes for a station-anchored mixed-use development close to
downtown. I invited town officials to the final review. The local
newspaper did an article. Six months later the town purchased the
parcel and set about appointing a task force. Amtrak, unprompted,
produced a study showing that a Hillsborough stop would be
profitable. The North Carolina Railroad Company, owner of the
right-of-way and long a Kafka's Castle of impenetrability, suddenly
got interested. Task force members were treated to a corridor tour
in the railroad's track-riding Chevy S we were invited to
conferences and seminars. The North Carolina Department of
Transportation submitted a request for funding from the American
Recovery and Reinvestment Act. The station was, after all, a poster
child for the sort of infrastructure President Obama’s stimulus
package was ostensibly intended to
And all along I kept wondering: Why did this have to come out of a
coffee shop and a classroom?&Where
were the planners?&Why
didn’t the town or county planning office act on this opportunity?
A moment ago I argued that the public lacks the knowledge and
expertise to make informed decisions about planning. If that's the
case, what does it say about our profession when a group of
citizens — most with no training in architecture, planning or
design — comes up with a very good
the planners should have had?
When I asked about this, the response was: "We’re too busy planning
to come up with big plans." [13] Too busy planning. Too busy
slogging through the bureaucratic maze, issuing permits and
enforcing zoning codes, hosting community get-togethers, making
sure developers get their submittals in on time and pay their fees.
This is what passes for planning today. We have become a caretaker
profession — reactive rather than proactive, corrective instead of
preemptive, rule bound and hamstrung and anything but visionary. If
we lived in Nirvana, this would be fine. But we don't. We are
entering the uncharted waters of global urbanization on a scale
never seen. And we are not in the wheelhouse, let alone steering
the ship. We may not even be on
How did this come about? How did a profession that roared to life
with grand ambitions become such a mouse? The answer points to the
self-inflicted loss of agency and authority that came with the
Jacobs revolution. It's hard to be a visionary when you’ve divested
yourself of the power to turn visions into reality. Planning in
America has been reduced to smallness and timidity, and largely by
its own hand. So it's no surprise that envisioning alternative
futures for our cities and towns and regions has defaulted to
nonplanners such as William McDonough and Richard Florida, Andr&s
Duany and Rem Koolhaas, and journalists such as Joel Kotkin and
James Howard Kunstler. Jane Jacobs was just the start. It is almost
impossible to name a single urban planner today who is a regular
presence on the editorial pages of a major newspaper, who has
galvanized popular sentiment on issues such as sprawl and peak oil,
or who has published a best-selling book on the great issues of our
Late in life, even Jane Jacobs grew frustrated with the timidity of
planners — Canadian planners this time. In an April 1993 speech —
published in the&Ontario
Planning Journal&—
she lamented the absence of just the sort of robust plannerly
interventionism that she once condemned. Jacobs read through a list
of exemplary planning initiatives — the Toronto Main S
the new Planning for O efforts to plan the
T and plans for infill housing, the renewal and
extension of streetcar transit, the redevelopment of the St.
Lawrence neighborhood, and on and on. And then she unleashed this
bitter missile: "Not one of these forward looking and important
policies and ideas — not ONE — was the intellectual product of an
official planning department, whether in Toronto, Metro, or the
province." Indeed, she drove on, "our official planning departments
seem to be brain-dead in the sense that we cannot depend on them in
any way, shape, or form for providing intellectual leadership in
addressing urgent problems involving the physical future of the
city." This, I hardly need to add, from a person who did more than
any other to quash plannerly agency to shape the physical city.
Well, what can be done about all this? And what might the doing
mean for the future of planning education? How can we cultivate in
planners the kind of visionary thinking that once characterized the
profession? How can we ensure that the idealism of our students is
not extinguished as they move into practice? How can we transform
planners into big-picture thinkers with the courage to imagine
alternatives to the status quo, and equipped with the skills and
the moxie to lead the recovery of American infrastructure and put
the nation on a greener, more sustainable
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TITLE="[转]&雅各布斯与美国规划的生与死" />
"Construction Potentials: Postwar Prospects and Problems, a Basis
for Action,"Architectural Record, 1943; prepared by the
F.W. Dodge Corporation Committee on Postwar Construction Markets.
[Drawing by Julian Archer]
It was the Jacobsian revolution and its elimination of a robust
physical-planning focus that led to the diminution of planning's
disciplinary identity, professional agency and speculative courage.
Thus I believe that a renewed emphasis on physical planning — the
grounded, tangible, place-bound matter of orchestrating human
activity on the land — is essential to refocusing, recalibrating
and renewing the profession. By this I do not mean regression back
to the state of affairs circa 1935. Planning prior to the
grassroots revolution was shallow and undisciplined in many
respects. Most of what was embraced post-Jacobs must remain — our
expertise on public policy and economics, on law and governance and
international development, on planning process and community
involvement, on hazard mitigation and environmental impact, on
ending poverty and encouraging justice and equality. But all these
should be subordinated to core competencies related to placemaking,
infrastructure and the physical environment, built and natural. I
am not suggesting that we simply toss in a few studio courses and
call it a day. Planners should certainly be versed in key theories
of landscape and urban design. But more than design skills are
needed if planning is to become — as I feel it must — the charter
discipline and conscience of the placemaking professions in coming
Planning students today need a more robust suite of skills and
expertise than we are currently providing — and than may even be
possible in the framework of the two-year graduate curriculum. [15]
Planners today need not a close-up lens or a wide-angle lens but a
wide-angle zoom lens. They need to be able to see the big picture
as well a and even if not trained to design
the parts themselves, they need to know how all those parts fit
together. They need, as Jerold Kayden has put it, to "understand,
analyze, and influence the variety of forces — social, economic,
cultural, legal, political, ecological, technological, aesthetic,
and so forth — shaping the built environment." [16] This means that
in addition to being taught courses in economics and law and
governance, students should be trained to be keen observers of the
urban landscapes about them, to be able to decipher the riddles of
architectural style and substance, to have a working knowledge of
the historical development of places and patterns on the land. They
should understand how the physical infrastructure of a city works —
the mechanics of transportation and utility systems, sewerage and
water supply. They should know the fundamentals of ecology and the
natural systems of a place, be able to read a site and its landform
and vegetation, know that a great spreading maple in the middle of
a stand of pines once stood alone in an open pasture. They need to
know the basics of impact analysis and be able to assess the
implications of a proposed development on traffic, water quality
and a city's carbon footprint. And while they cannot master all of
site engineering, they should be competent site analysts and — more
important — be fluent in assessing the site plans of others. Such
training would place competency in the shaping and stewardship of
the built environment at the very center of the planning-education
solar system. And about that good sun a multitude of bodies —
planning specialties as we have long had them — could happily
We are far from this ideal today.
Editors' Note
"Jane Jacobs and the Death and Life of American
Planning" appears, in a significantly expanded version,
in&, an anthology of
essays co-edited by Max Page and Timothy Mennel, and published this
month by the&&of the American Planning Association. It
is published here with the permission of the publisher and the
See also "," by Timothy Mennel, from the same volume, and on
This year marks the 50th anniversary of the publication of Jacobs's
landmark&The Death and Life of Great American
Cities, and the fifth anniversary of her death, at age
1. For the record, it was not me who contributed "Trivial
Profession."&
2. Nathan Glazer, "Schools of the Minor
Professions,"&Minerva&12,
no. 3 (1974): 346-64.&
3. F. Stuart Chapin Jr.,&Urban Land Use
Planning&(Champaign: University of Illinois
Press, 1965), vi.&
4. William Rich et al., "Holding Together: Four Years of Evolution
at MIT,"&Journal of the American Institute of
Planners&36, no. 4 (July 1970):
5. I refer here to Mumford’s long-winded critique
of&Death and Life: “Mother Jacobs’ Home
Remedies,”&The New
Yorker,&December 1, 1962,
6. Jane Jacobs,&The Death and Life of Great
American Cities&(New York: Random House,
1961), 17-18. It is astonishing that Jacobs would fault Howard for
bein she was, after all, herself a journalist
with an equal lack of professional training in planning or design.
Lewis Mumford was especially piqued at Jacobs's dismissal of
Howard, his mentor and hero. See Mumford, “Mother Jacobs’ Home
Remedies.”&
7. Glazer, "Schools of the Minor Professions."
8. As William Rich observed of the Massachusetts Institute of
Technology faculty in the 1970s, members "from outside often tended
to identify more strongly with their professional colleagues in
other departments and schools than with the planning staff." Rich
et al., "Holding Together," 244.&
9. Alex Krieger, "The Planner as Urban Designer: Reforming Planning
Education,"&inThe Profession of City
Planning: Changes, Images, and Challenges, , ed.
Lloyd Rodwin and Bishwapriya Sanyal (New Brunswick: Center for
Urban Policy Research / Rutgers University Press, 2000),
10. Matthew J. Kiefer, "The Social Functions of
NIMBYism,"&Harvard Design Magazine28
(Spring/Summer 2008), 97.&
11. Michael Malone et al.,&27 Views of
Hillsborough: A Southern Town in Prose and
Poetry&(Hillsborough, N.C.: Eno Publishers,
2010), back cover.&
12. See Ray Oldenburg,&The Great Good Place:
Cafes, Coffee Shops, Community Centers, Beauty Parlors, General
Stores, Bars, Hangouts and How They Get You Through the
Day&(New York: Paragon House,
13. In no way do I mean this to be a criticism of our town
planners, who are capable and well-trained professionals. But even
the most gifted young professional has his or her hands tied by the
institutional structure and professional strictures within which
planning must operate in most American
communities.&
14. Jane Jacobs, “Are Planning Departments
Useful?”&Ontario Planning
Journal&8, no. 4 (July/August 1993), 4-5. The
speech and subsequent essay ignited a firestorm of debate among
Canadian planners.&
15. We need a three-year curriculum for the master’s degree in
planning. Landscape architecture, architecture, law, and business
all long ago moved to this model. There is nothing aside from
inertia stopping us from doing the same. The planning profession is
an order of magnitude more complex than it was 50 years ago, and
yet we still expect students to master it all in two
16. Jerold S. Kayden, "What’s the Mission of Harvard’s Planning
Program?"&Harvard Design
Magazine&22 (Spring/Summer 2005), 4
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