If a Plan is a Document, then Planning must be Writing

Well, its been a bit of a hiatus as I have been pretty busy working on a few projects. I doing so, I started thinking about what our plans actually represent.


If you ask planners, whether city planners, highway planners, or protected area planners, what is meant by plan and planning, you will probably receive as many definitions as there are individuals you ask. Many of the responses will likely focus on planning as the application of science and technical expertise to solving a problem—a definition derived from the early 20th century development of progressive thought in America. In the progressive era, many attempted to separate policy from implementation to reduce graft, corruption and undue influence of politics on problem solving. As a result, solutions were felt to be the domain of scientists and experts, people neutral or disinterested in the outcome of the solution.

This attempt to separate politics from planning gave rise to two fundamental illusions: (1) that problems were primarily technical rather than social and political in character; and (2) scientists and other experts were objective, unbiased and neutral investigators. The former illusion lead to planning being perceived as something totally within the domain of experts—people holding specialized, and often quantitatively derived knowledge, about the subject, whether it was urban development, highways or parks. Normal people, those impacted by plans, were implicitly assumed incapable of understanding the complex equations, technical language, and modeling inherent of many planning projects. Such normal people, could at most, provide some insights into society’s preferences, which were often ignored because the conflicted with the mathematical models planners used.

At the same time, the second illusion gave scientists in particular a pre-eminent and priviledged position in society. By definition, if one held the title of scientist or had the initials Ph. D. after their name, it was assumed that their statements were objective assessments of the situation. The general public was not aware that to become a scientist or hold a Ph.D., that certain paradigms and protocols must be followed. If one followed protocols different than what was suggested by the dominant paradigm, then it would be difficult to attain doctoral status. Thus, scientists, when it comes to indicating a preference for one action over another for a socially important problem are no more qualified than the general public. They are qualified, in their narrow range of specialty to model the relationship between causes and effects.

But the assumption of homogeneity of scientists on social problems is one that is frequently revealed in contested issues, where each side hires scientists to promote a particular perspective, to indicate the evidence suggests one course of action is “better” than another. An example of the lack of objectivity and assumption of homogeneity occurred in the now forgotten EIS for re-establishment of grizzly bears in the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness lying astride the Montana-Idaho border. In the EIS process, a group of wildlife scientists became dissatisfied with the various alternatives being proposed and developed a “science” alternative, as if the other alternatives were not based in science. The science alternative made that assumption and the assumption that all scientists agree on this proposed set of actions. Finally, the presence of a science alternative broke all presumptions of neutrality, objectivity and disinterest and demonstrated that science is as vested and exclusive as other interests.

But plans fail, as noted policy analyst Aaron Wildavsky once argued, everywhere they are tried. And one reason for these failures is simply plans that were developed from an emphasis on writing versus an emphasis on understanding.

Well, what has this extensive diversion got to do with plans and planning? If a plan is a technical scientific document then it is written, and the writing becomes paramount. Now this approach to plans and planning dominated, and continues to do so, protected area stewardship in the 20th century. As such, plans reflect science and technical expertise, which are not necessarily consonant with social preferences. There are good and sound reasons for incorporating science and expertise into plans—science does provide useful knowledge, builds awareness of alternative pathways to the future, helps society evaluate which pathways may best suit its needs, and warns of hidden dangers of selecting one pathway or another. But science is not the only form of knowledge useful to society. Personal and social experience is another way of knowing, and often fills the many gaps left by scientific investigation. Spiritual beliefs are another way of knowing, and along with moral and ethical frameworks helps people make choices among competing alternatives.

A plan built solely by technicians and scientists will be devoid of these sources of knowledge yet provides an illusion that the information contained within them is objective and “true”. So planning is more than writing. It involves debate about the future and what it might be like; it involves close and intimate discussion how different futures might affect different people, how alternative pathways might affect varying groups, and which pathway best meets concerns about equity, equality and efficiency. Planning involves constructing a shared vision of the future, building the skills to navigate difficult pathways to that future, assembling the resources—human, natural, social—required for following that pathway, and erecting governance and institutional systems and structures to monitor progress, overcome unanticipated obstacles and pass on messages to the future. So this is what planning involves, and it’s a different question as to what a plan is.