Planning in the multicultural city: Celebrating diversity or reinforcing difference?

Full text

Planning
in
the
multicultural
city:
Celebrating
diversity
or
reinforcing
difference?
Ruth
Fincher
a,
*,
Kurt
Iveson
b
,
Helga
Leitner
c,1
,
Valerie
Preston
d
a
University
of
Melbourne,
Australia
b
University
of
Sydney,
Australia
c
University
of
California
Los
Angeles,
United
States
d
York
University,
Canada
Abstract
Even
as
multiculturalism
is
condemned
as
a
failure
by
national
leaders
in
a
number
of
countries,
urban
residents
live
successfully
in
cities
of
ethnic
and
racialized
difference.
This
paper
conducts
a
descriptive
review,
drawing
on
the
contemporary
English
language
literature,
of
the
manner
in
which
planning
engages
with
multiculturalism
in
cities.
Its
geographical
scope
is
international;
having
said
that,
in
order
to
make
a
coherent
discussion
it
focuses
on
eight
cities,
selected
both
for
their
ethnic
and
racialized
diversity
and
for
their
situation
within
different
national
governance
structures
and
different
policy
histories
in
relation
to
migration.
Our
overall
argument
is
that
planning
and
planners
are
presently
engaging
with
the
demographic
reality
of
multiculturalism
in
the
city
through
three
major
interventions:
social
mix
planning
in
housing,
planning
for
the
commodification
of
diversity
in
ethnically
identified
businesses,
and
planning
for
public
spaces
and
encounter.
We
begin
by
examining
various
understandings
of
multiculturalism
–
as
a
political
philosophy,
a
policy
framework,
and
a
demographic
reality
–
that
are
mobilized
in
cities
with
diverse
government
arrangements
and
histories
of
migration.
Through
a
discussion
of
social
mix,
we
proceed
to
assess
the
ways
that
urban
planning
has
tried
to
‘manage’
social
difference
in
situations
where
difference
has
been
interpreted
as
disorderly
and
in
which
it
has
been
associated
with
disadvantage.
We
then
consider
how
the
multicultural
features
of
some
cities
have
been
commodified,
their
diversity
packaged
to
form
showpieces
for
tourists
and/or
gentrifiers
in
ways
which
sometimes
fail
to
consider
the
viability
of
housing
and
small
businesses
for
longstanding
residents
and
businesspeople.
Finally,
we
investigate
public
spaces
and
facilities,
discussing
their
regulation
by
planning
and
the
conflicts
that
can
ensue
when
spaces
and
facilities
are
claimed
by
some
ethnic
groups
to
the
exclusion
of
others
even
as
planners
seek
to
promote
intercultural
awareness
and
encounter.
Interrogating
the
involvement
of
planning
in
either
celebrating
diversity
or
reinforcing
difference,
we
conclude
that
planning
produces
both
outcomes,
often
simultaneously,
but
that
its
inclination
over
many
decades
to
control
forms
of
diversity
that
have
been
regarded
as
unruly
has
reinforced
difference
in
cities.
Accordingly,
we
propose
that
the
construction
of
everyday
multiculturalisms
is
the
task
of
inhabitants
as
well
as
planners.
Furthermore,
positioning
planners
so
that
they
are
more
effective,
creative
and
visible
in
their
engagement
with
ethnic
and
racialized
difference
in
the
contemporary
neoliberal
city
should
be
a
priority.
#
2014
Elsevier
Ltd.
All
rights
reserved.
Keywords:
Multiculturalism;
Social
mix
planning;
Commodification;
Diversity;
Difference;
Public
space
www.elsevier.com/locate/pplann
Progress
in
Planning
92
(2014)
1–55
*
Corresponding
author.
Tel.:
+61
3
83440623.
E-mail
address:
r.fincher@unimelb.edu.au
(R.
Fincher).
1
With
Sian
Butcher,
University
of
Minnesota,
United
States.
http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/j.progress.2013.04.001
0305-9006/#
2014
Elsevier
Ltd.
All
rights
reserved.

Contents
1.
Introduction
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2
2.
Urban
perspectives
on
multiculturalism:
similarities
and
dissimilarities
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5
2.1.
Making
sense
of
multiculturalism.
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6
2.2.
Multiculturalism
in
diverse
urban
contexts.
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2.3.
Local
strategies
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2.3.1.
Toronto:
celebrating
diversity?
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2.3.2.
Sydney:
recognizing
the
critical
role
of
local
governments?.
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2.3.3.
London:
creating
cohesive
communities?.
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2.3.4.
Amsterdam:
abandoning
multiculturalism?
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2.3.5.
New
York:
privatizing
multiculturalism?
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2.3.6.
Berlin:
resisting
national
discourses?
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12
2.3.7.
Singapore:
achieving
cosmopolitan
multiracialism?
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13
2.3.8.
Johannesburg:
undoing
apartheid?
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14
2.4.
Commonalities
and
differences.
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15
3.
Social
mixing:
the
significance
of
residential
space
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16
3.1.
Planning
for
social
mix
–
early
socialism
and
Keynesian
liberalism
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16
3.2.
Planning
for
social
mix
–
neoliberalism
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18
3.3.
Interrogating
social
mixing
–
policies
and
concepts
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21
3.4.
Should
social
mix
planning
be
abandoned?
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23
4.
Commodification:
making
places
commercial
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24
4.1.
Cities
for
visitors
and
tourism
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25
4.2.
Including
immigrants
or
ethnically
defined
groups
in
local
government
strategies
to
form
creative
cities
or
local
business
alliances
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28
4.3.
Links
between
commodification
of
ethnicity
and
gentrification
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31
4.4.
Issues
for
planning
that
is
commodifying
ethnic
and
racial
difference.
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33
5.
Multiculturalism
and
the
urban
public
realm:
sites/sights
of
difference
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35
5.1.
Planning
and
the
production
of
urban
landscapes:
contests
over
mosques
and
eruvim
in
multicultural
cities
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35
5.2.
Planning
and
the
policing
of
public
space:
informal
street
trading
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39
5.3.
Planning
for
multicultural
encounter:
festivals
and
beyond
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43
5.4.
The
public
realm
and
the
public
interest
in
multicultural
cities
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45
6.
Conclusions.
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45
Acknowledgements
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47
References
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48
1.
Introduction
In
many
nation-states
around
the
world,
multi-
culturalism
is
currently
a
topic
of
heated
public
debate
and
rhetoric.
In
Europe,
for
example,
German
Chancellor
Angela
Merkel
has
declared
that
‘‘m ulti -
culturalism
in
Germany
has
failed’’
(Weaver,
2010).
British
Prime
Minister
David
Cameron
agreed,
and
has
called
on
European
governments
to
practice
‘‘a
lot
less
of
the
passive
tolerance
of
recent
years
and
much
more
active,
muscular
liberalism,’’
saying
that
Britain
would
no
longer
give
official
patronage
to
Muslim
groups
that
had
been
‘‘showered
with
public
money
despite
doing
little
to
combat
terrorism.’’
(Wintour,
2011).
Politi-
cians
in
the
Netherlands
have
decried
the
2004
murder
of
Theo
Van
Gogh
as
an
indicator
of
the
problems
caused
by
promotion
of
cultural
diversity,
and,
in
2012,
public
protests
concerning
the
film
entitled
Innocence
of
Muslims
stirred
controversy
and
critical
responses
in
cities
around
the
globe.
Such
controver-
sies
suggest
that
even
in
contexts
where
it
may
have
gained
a
foothold,
multiculturalism
is
not
a
universally
accepted
or
acceptable
political
philosophy
or
policy
(Hall,
2000).
The
changing
nature
of
city
life
features
prominently
in
these
debates
about
the
past
and
future
of
multi-
culturalism.
Claims
of
‘failure’
are
typically
narrated
with
illustrations
from
the
everyday
life
of
urban
neighbourhoods
where
conflict
has
erupted
between
inhabitants
from
different
cultural
and
religious
back-
grounds,
with
blame
apportioned
to
migrants
who
are
said
to
have
failed
to
‘integrate’
into
their
host
society.
And
yet
even
as
multiculturalism
is
condemned
as
a
failure
by
some,
countless
residents
successfully
live
with
difference
on
a
daily
basis
in
cities
marked
by
cultural
diversity
(Kymlicka,
2010;
Rath,
2011).
R.
Fincher
et
al.
/
Progress
in
Planning
92
(2014)
1–552

Given
the
significance
of
city
life
for
the
future
of
multiculturalism,
the
role
of
planning
in
both
shaping
and
responding
to
the
lived
experience
of
diversity
and
difference
warrants
close
scrutiny.
Since
its
inception,
various
theories
of
social
difference
have
informed
the
philosophies
and
practices
of
planners.
These
planning
philosophies
and
practices
generate
urban
outcomes
that
matter
greatly
for
the
wider
politics
of
difference
at
urban,
national
and
regional
scales,
because
they
profoundly
shape
the
nature
of
inter-subjective
relation-
ships
among
urban
inhabitants
with
different
ethnic
and
racialized
backgrounds.
In
our
contemporary
‘age
of
migration’
(Castles
&
Miller,
2009),
the
question
of
whether
some
urban
inhabitants’
ethnic
and
racialized
identities
are
stigmatized,
trivialized,
valued,
or
recognized
in
relation
to
others
is
a
crucial
element
of
social
justice
in
the
city
(see
for
example
Fainstein,
2010;
Fincher
&
Iveson,
2008;
Sandercock,
1998,
2003).
The
goal
of
this
paper,
then,
is
to
critically
review
the
practices
of
contemporary
urban
planning
with
regard
to
multiculturalism.
Through
a
thematically
organized
description
of
current
literature
about
planners’
efforts
to
grapple
with
ethnic
and
racialized
difference
in
contemporary
cities,
we
analyze
commonalities
and
differences
in
planning
interventions
and
outcomes
and
speculate
on
the
factors
giving
rise
to
them.
Such
a
review
is
a
necessary
prerequisite
for
debating
the
planning
outcomes
that
ought
to
be
pursued
in
the
name
of
multiculturalism
in
cities
into
the
future.
These
goals
may
include,
inter
alia,
enhanced
intercultural
aware-
ness
and
understanding,
greater
civility
among
urban
residents
from
all
ethnic
and
racialized
backgrounds,
and
equitable
treatment
of
all
residents
that
respects
cultural
difference.
We
have
approached
the
review
through
a
reading
of
the
literature
written
recently
in
English
concerning
the
socio-spatial
outcomes
that
have
been
produced
through
planners’
efforts
to
shape
the
multicultural
city.
Reflecting
the
intersection
of
planning
with
other
urban
processes
(see
below),
we
have
drawn
upon
literature
from
a
range
of
disciplines
including
planning,
geography,
sociology
and
political
economy.
Acknowl-
edging
the
limits
of
generalizing
about
multiculturalism
and
planning
across
places,
we
have
focused
on
certain
major
cities
around
the
world,
selecting
them
not
only
because
of
their
ethnically
and
racially
diverse
populations
but
also
because
they
are
cities
positioned
within
a
variety
of
national
policy
and
jurisdictional
contexts.
Some
of
the
national
policies
to
which
the
cities
are
subject
stress
recognition
of
ethnic
difference
within
the
nation
and
others
assimilation
to
a
single
national
norm;
some
of
the
cities
are
positioned
within
federal
systems
with
a
high
degree
of
local
autonomy,
while
others
have
little
power
and
authority
vis-a-vis
central
and
provincial
governments
(see
Section
2).
National
views
of
multiculturalism
are
due
in
part
to
each
nation’s
distinct
historical
path
to
ethnic
and
racialized
diversity.
Some
are
settler
societies
where
immigrants
have
been
recruited
to
build
the
nation,
others
are
nations
of
former
empires
to
whose
metropolises
colonizers
and
colonials
have
returned,
while
still
others
are
constituted
formally
as
multiracial
due
to
multiple
phases
of
colonization
and
recent
migration.
In
these
varied
contexts,
municipal
govern-
ments
are
largely
responsible
for
managing
the
built
environment
to
ensure
social
order
and
harmony
among
ethnically
and
racially
diverse
residents.
Our
task
in
this
review
is
immediately
complicated
because
‘multiculturalism’
has
many
meanings
and
operates
across
many
institutional
and
geographical
contexts.
Multiculturalism
is
at
once
a
philosophy
of
the
nation
and
nationhood,
a
set
of
public
policies,
and
a
demographic
reality
in
many
countries
and
cities
in
which
ethnic
and
racialized
variations
exist
in
the
population.
It
is
not
uncommon
that
the
demographic
reality
exists
without
a
multicultural
philosophy
of
the
nation
or
enabling
multicultural
policies,
and
there
is
considerable
variation
in
the
ways
multiculturalism
in
expressed
and
evaluated
between
countries
and
places.
In
this
paper
we
take
the
multicultural
city
to
be
a
place
of
variety
in
ethnicity
and
race.
Exploring
the
contexts
of
such
cities
and
the
ways
planning
engages
with
ethnic
and
racialized
difference
in
varied
contexts
is
one
of
our
key
concerns
in
the
sections
to
follow.
Multicultural
diversity
as
demographic
reality
can
refer
either
to
the
distinctive
presence
of
immigrant
groups,
arrived
in
the
major
countries
of
immigrant
settlement
over
the
last
five
decades,
or
to
longstanding
ethnic
and
racial
differentiations
in
a
nation
and
its
cities
especially
where
those
differentiations
are
spatially
distinct.
Nor
is
‘planning’
an
easy
concept
to
pin
down.
For
our
purposes
here,
we
have
taken
planning
to
be
that
part
of
urban
governance
and
management
which
has
as
its
main
concerns
(1)
the
ways
that
the
interests
and
circumstances
of
individuals
and
groups
are
enhanced
or
limited
by
the
characteristics
of
the
built
environment
and
its
spatial
features,
and
(2)
the
development
of
social,
cultural
and
economic
policies
that
change
conditions
in
places.
We
emphasize
that
it
is
often
difficult
to
disentangle
a
specific
‘planning’
policy
and
practice
that
influences
a
place
from
other
social
and
economic
interventions
that
also
affect
cities
and
their
residents.
We
also
note
that
many
planning
practices
R.
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et
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/
Progress
in
Planning
92
(2014)
1–55
3

that
are
not
explicitly
concerned
with
‘multiculturalism’
nonetheless
have
significant
bearing
on
inter-subjective
relationships
in
multicultural
cities.
Nevertheless,
we
believe
it
is
important
to
focus
on
planning
discourses
and
practices,
and
we
locate
their
conceptual
roots
regarding
urban
difference
in
the
early
20th
century.
These
conceptual
roots
(see
Section
3)
include:
spatial
assimilation
theory,
contact
theory,
the
culture
of
poverty
and
urban
underclass
theses,
and
thinking
about
neighbourhood
effects
and
social
capital.
Of
course
the
uses
of
such
concepts,
underpinning
and
guiding
planning,
have
been
influenced
by
broader
economic
policy
priorities
and
ideologies.
This
is
evident
in
the
way
planning
has
had
varied
aims,
giving
rise
to
two
distinct
but
connected
periods
of
concen-
trated
energy
around
diversity
and
difference
in
(1)
inter-World
War
socialism
and
post-war
Keynesian
social
liberalism,
and
(2)
neoliberalism
since
the
early
1980s.
Following
Peck
and
Tickell
(2002)
who
comment
on
the
more
recent
phase,
and
noting
that
processes
of
neoliberalisation
have
taken
varied
forms
in
different
times
and
places,
the
planning
of
multi-
cultural
cities
exhibits
both
roll-back
and
roll-out
neoliberalism,
with
the
former
characterized
by
a
decrease
in
state
responsibility
for
inclusion
and
planning,
a
withdrawal
of
the
state
from
the
provision
of
housing
and
a
push
for
the
privatization
of
public
housing,
and
the
latter
by
a
new
set
of
market-oriented
government
interventions,
a
focus
on
community
and
responsible
citizen
participation.
Alongside
the
importance
of
the
neoliberal
turn
to
the
intent
of
planning
in
multicultural
cities,
we
also
acknowledge
the
importance
of
discussions
in
planning
and
urban
theory
about
living
together
with
difference.
Principal
in
development
of
this
theme
has
been
Sandercock
(1998,
2003)
in
her
pursuit
of
cosmopo-
litanism
and
planning
for
‘mongrel
cities’.
Sander-
cock’s
proposed
multicultural
urban
project
goes
beyond
dominant
conceptions
of
multiculturalism
and
multicultural
policies
by
advancing
the
notion
of
inter-
cultural
coexistence,
which
stresses
the
importance
of
willingness
to
learn
from
the
Other,
and
recognizing
value
in
and
knowledge
of
the
Other.
This
conceptual
argument
concerning
‘how
we
might
live
together’
(2003,
p.
87,
ff)
remains
current
and
vital,
as
does
Sandercock’s
advocacy
of
participatory
and
inclusive
planning
processes
even
as
we
recognize
their
agonistic
nature
and
setting.
The
concern
of
this
paper
is,
however,
to
review
how
planning
for
the
multicultural
in
contemporary
cities
is
actually
playing
out
differen-
tially
for
ethnic
and
racialized
groups
and
how
to
realize
cosmopolis
on
the
ground
within
the
realities
of
the
contemporary
world
–
where
cities,
urban
life
and
our
own
minds
are
increasingly
disciplined
by
processes
of
neoliberalisation.
Building
on
the
analysis
made
by
Mitchell
(1993),
we
argue
that
the
pairing
of
the
multicultural
with
the
neoliberal
is
producing
a
very
particular
multicultural
planning
in
the
twenty-first
century
that
will
be
examined
in
the
sections
to
follow.
In
the
review
to
follow,
we
discuss
and
evaluate
the
engagement
of
urban
planning
with
multicultural
difference
in
four
sections.
The
first
section
examines
how
planning
is
shaped
by
its
national
context
and
each
of
the
remaining
sections
considers
a
particular
intervention
of
urban
planning
and
its
outcomes
in
selected
major
cities,
distinguishing
those
forms
of
planning
by
the
sites
on
which
they
focus,
the
human
subjects
they
envisage
and
interact
with,
the
particular
strategies
that
they
deploy
and
the
outcomes
of
those
strategies.
Section
2
sets
the
stage
for
the
paper.
Canvassing
the
ways
that
multiculturalism
is
simultaneously
a
nation-
building
philosophy,
a
policy
framework,
and
a
demographic
reality,
it
goes
on
to
examine
the
government
arrangements
that
determine
how
urban
planning
is
situated
in
governance.
In
this
section,
the
cities
that
are
the
principal
focus
of
the
review
are
distinguished
according
to
whether
municipal
initia-
tives
are
a
principal
tool
for
implementing
multicultural
policies
(Toronto,
Sydney,
London,
Amsterdam),
municipal
interventions
resist
national
views
of
multi-
culturalism
(Berlin,
New
York),
and
the
municipal
and
national
views
of
multiculturalism
are
tightly
integrated
(Singapore,
Johannesburg).
The
varying
‘kinds’
or
‘meanings’
of
multiculturalism
that
characterize
each
of
these
cities
are
described,
along
with
their
implications
for
planning.
We
note
that
there
will
be
occasional
reference
to
other
cities,
but
that
our
intention
is
to
build
a
commentary
and
review
of
planning
focusing
on
the
named
cities
as
a
principal
organizing
feature
of
the
paper.
Section
3
points
to
the
ways
that
urban
planning
has
tried
to
‘manage’
social
difference
in
situations
where
difference
has
been
interpreted
as
disorderly
and
in
which
it
has
been
associated
with
disadvantage.
Observing
how
planners
handle
difference
in
contem-
porary
multicultural
cities,
where
social
mix
is
a
prominent
frame
of
reference
for
planning
actions,
requires
comprehension
of
the
social
scientific
theories
long
present
in
urban
studies
that
have
informed
urban
planning.
We
take
time
in
this
section,
therefore,
to
trace
some
of
the
discursive
shifts
and
actual
practices
in
planning
concerned
with
social
mix
and
segregation,
as
they
have
taken
place
over
the
last
century
in
selected
R.
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et
al.
/
Progress
in
Planning
92
(2014)
1–554

locations,
before
bringing
our
commentary
to
the
present
day.
Section
4
examines
the
ways
in
which
the
multi-
cultural
features
of
some
cities
have
been
commodified.
Their
diversity
has
been
packaged
to
form
showpieces
for
tourists
or
gentrifiers,
and
in
some
instances
made
part
of
emerging
creative
city
strategies.
The
task
of
planning
for
these
ethnically
identified
areas
has
in
places
become
associated
with
business
or
growth
coalitions,
though
the
extent
to
which
professional
planners
are
involved
in
these
alliances
is
not
clear.
The
contrast
between
the
involvement
of
urban
policy-
makers,
including
planners,
in
developing
urban
features
with
this
commercial
orientation
to
diversity
for
the
benefit
of
wealthier
residents
and
visitors,
and
the
focus
of
urban
policy-makers
and
planners
who
are
implementing
social
mix
policies
to
deal
with
difference
constructed
as
disorder
and
marginality,
could
not
be
clearer.
Section
5
asks
us
to
consider
the
involvement
of
planning
in
the
regulation
of
public
spaces,
public
facilities
and
their
programmes.
Urban
landscapes
are
dotted
with
facilities
and
spaces
claimed
by
ethnically
identified
groups,
and
visible
to
others
outside
those
groups,
a
situation
sometimes
leading
to
conflict
at
the
local
level
that
planning
has
sought
to
manage.
In
addition,
however,
planning
has
wanted
to
draw
people
together
for
encounter
in
urban
public
places,
to
promote
intercultural
awareness,
understanding
and
connection
across
their
differences,
and
regulation
has
sought
also
to
facilitate
this
outcome.
These
sections
develop
reviews
of
a
variety
of
ways
that
planning
is
engaged
in
the
life
of
the
contemporary
multicultural
city.
In
a
brief
conclusion
to
the
paper
we
raise
some
of
the
issues
that
cross-cut
those
we
have
discussed
and
that
might
be
the
focus
of
further
thinking
about
how
planning
should
be
positioned
and
how
planners
might
be
positioning
themselves
given
the
inevitable
and
significant
lived
multiculturalism
of
our
urban
futures.
2.
Urban
perspectives
on
multiculturalism:
similarities
and
dissimilarities
The
increasing
ethnic
and
racial
diversity
of
contemporary
cities
challenges
urban
planners
who
are
charged
with
managing
the
built
environment
to
promote
social
order
and
harmony.
Their
practices
and
discourses
are
shaped
by
conceptions
of
the
national
community
that
vary
tremendously
from
one
nation-
state
to
another
(Castles
&
Miller,
2009)
and
that
are
experienced
locally
where
the
actions
and
discourses
of
planners
are
influential.
In
some
instances,
the
local
is
the
scale
utilized
to
construct
a
culturally
pluralistic
nation,
while
in
others,
the
local
resists
the
nation-state
taking
initiatives
to
deal
with
diversity
that
oppose
the
conceptions
of
membership
put
forward
at
the
national
scale.
Working
at
the
local
level,
planners
must
also
take
account
of
the
views
and
actions
of
non-governmental
organizations
that
represent
many
ethnic
and
racial
groups.
To
understand
the
impact
of
these
national
discourses
and
governance
arrangements,
this
section
reviews
recent
literature
describing
how
urban
planners
manage
the
built
environment
to
promote
peaceable
interactions
between
ethnic
and
racialized
groups,
ensure
equitable
access
to
local
institutions,
and
reduce
ethnic
and
racialized
inequalities
in
diverse
urban
contexts.
The
review
of
the
current
planning
literature
illustrates
similarities
and
differences
in
urban
govern-
ance
and
management
by:
1.
outlining
the
diverse
meanings
attached
to
multicul-
turalism,
2.
examining
planning
discourses
and
practices
about
diversity
and
difference,
and
3.
speculating
on
how
local,
regional
and
national
contexts
influence
the
urban
governance
and
man-
agement
of
multicultural
cities.
Despite
the
consensus
that
many
cities
are
multicul-
tural,
insofar
as
their
populations
are
ethnically
and
racially
diverse
(Hall,
2000),
the
political
philosophies
that
underpin
multiculturalism
and
the
policies
enacted
in
its
name
are
hotly
debated
and
contested
in
academic
and
policy
circles
(Bloemraad,
2011;
Castles
&
Miller,
2009;
Kymlicka,
2007;
Miller,
2006;
Triandafyllidou,
Modood,
&
Meer,
2011).
We
argue
that
these
debates
discussed
mainly
at
the
level
of
the
nation-state
also
shape
planning
practices
and
policies
at
the
local
level.
In
this
section,
our
review
of
the
literature
focuses
on
similarities
and
differences
in
urban
planning
that
arise
across
diverse
national
contexts.
The
review
builds
on
recent
case
studies
that
have
explored
the
spatial
dimensions
of
successful
living
with
difference
(Kou-
trolikou,
2012;
Parker
&
Kerner,
2010)
and
diverse
forms
of
belonging
(Centner,
2012)
in
individual
cities
and
neighbourhoods.
While
these
case
studies
demon-
strate
the
value
of
examining
multiculturalism
as
demographic
reality
and
policies
implemented
at
the
local
level,
our
goal
in
this
section
is
to
situate
urban
planning
discourses
and
practices
in
national
contexts
and
illustrate
the
range
of
local
responses
to
ethnic
and
racialized
diversity
as
they
are
described
in
current
literature
available
in
English.
We
have
concentrated
on
R.
Fincher
et
al.
/
Progress
in
Planning
92
(2014)
1–55
5

studies
of
cities
where
national
perspectives
on
multiculturalism,
the
powers
delegated
to
the
local
level,
its
role
in
implementing
multicultural
policies,
and
the
historical
and
contemporary
experience
of
ethnic
and
racial
diversity
differ.
The
number
of
cities
on
which
we
focus
is
intended
to
illustrate
the
range
of
responses
to
diversity
while
remaining
manageable
within
the
constraints
of
a
single
article.
2.1.
Making
sense
of
multiculturalism
The
diversity
in
each
city
and
its
pathway
to
pluralism
is
unique
however,
there
are
some
broad
trends
related
to
migration
policies
and
histories
of
imperialism
and
colonization
(Castles
&
Miller,
2009;
Hall,
2000;
Koutrolikou,
2012).
In
settler
societies,
major
cities
such
as
New
York,
Sydney,
and
Toronto
are
home
to
large
numbers
of
immigrants
recruited
to
build
each
nation
and
swelling
populations
of
temporary
and
undocumented
migrants.
In
the
cities
of
Western
Europe,
such
as
London
and
Berlin,
diversity
has
been
heightened
by
the
return
of
colonizers
and
colonials
to
the
metropolitan
capitals
of
former
empires
and
as
an
unintended
consequence
of
guest-worker
policies
and
humanitarian
commitments
to
provide
asylum.
Singa-
pore
represents
still
another
path
to
pluralism.
Con-
stituted
as
a
multiracial
nation,
it
now
recruits
both
skilled
and
unskilled
labour
from
countries
around
the
globe
(Yeoh
&
Lin,
2012).
Finally,
in
Johannesburg,
multiple
phases
of
colonization
combined
with
recent
migration
from
Southern
Africa
have
created
an
exceptionally
diverse
urban
society.
The
evolving
nature
of
multiculturalism
as
a
demographic
reality
challenges
the
discourses
and
practices
of
urban
planning.
Migration
continuously
introduces
new
ethnic
and
racialized
groups
into
urban
populations.
As
one
example,
influxes
of
migrants
from
the
Caribbean
and
Asia
into
New
York
City
complicate
planning
decisions
that
had
focused
on
marginalized
Puerto-Rican
and
African-American
populations.
The
growing
numbers
of
Zimbabwean
migrants
in
Johan-
nesburg
are
the
target
of
growing
public
animosity
that
planners
struggle
to
mitigate,
while
the
expansion
of
the
European
Union
has
brought
Eastern
Europeans
to
London
and
other
Western
European
cities,
where
they
also
experience
hostility.
Political
events
also
transform
discourses
and
practices.
Recent
tendencies
towards
securitization
have
transformed
urban
planning
by
drawing
attention
to
religious
minorities,
particularly
Muslim
migrants
and
their
children
(Modood
&
Meer,
2011).
In
Amsterdam
and
Berlin,
planners
must
now
take
account
of
public
concern
that
Muslim
residents
pose
a
security
risk
when
proposing
interventions
to
deal
with
the
poverty
in
these
communities.
In
Johannesburg,
the
end
of
apartheid
has
led
to
a
wholesale
revision
of
urban
governance,
ostensibly
intended
to
strengthen
the
powers
of
local
governments
to
reduce
racialized
and
ethnic
inequalities.
Debates
about
multiculturalism
as
a
political
philosophy
influence
the
strategies
and
policies
proposed
to
manage
the
problems
associated
with
an
ethnically
and
racially
diverse
society
(Hall,
2000,
p.
210).
Some
political
philosophers
argue
that
in
liberal
democracies,
the
state
and
its
institutions
must
address
ethnic
and
racial
inequalities
to
ensure
the
individual
rights
of
everyone
in
the
nation
(Bloemraad,
2011;
Kymlicka,
2007;
Taylor,
1992).
According
to
this
philosophical
position,
public
institutions
must
acknowledge
that
society
is
heterogeneous
and
com-
posed
of
multiple
groups
(Benhabib,
2002;
Fincher
&
Iveson,
2008)
so
that
they
can
ensure
minority
groups
have
rights
that
will
redress
economic,
social,
and
political
inequalities
(Joppke,
2010).
Tolerance
is
necessary
but
insufficient
to
ensure
individual
rights,
the
sine
qua
non
of
a
liberal
democracy.
The
proponents
of
multiculturalism
argue
that
the
nation
can
be
ethnically
and
racially
heterogeneous
while
still
ensuring
the
individual
rights
for
all
members
of
the
nation.
Critics
of
this
political
philosophy
question
the
possibility
of
a
heterogeneous
nation
in
which
individual
rights
are
also
assured
on
multiple
grounds
(Hall,
2000;
Vertovec
&
Wassendorf,
2010).
On
the
right,
recognition
of
ethnic
and
racialized
groups
and
their
claims
to
group
rights
are
seen
to
challenge
the
very
notion
of
a
nation-state
that
is
conceived
as
homogeneous
(Hall,
2000).
Liberals
argue
that
the
political
philosophy
of
multiculturalism
promotes
a
cult
of
ethnicity
that
undercuts
the
universalism
and
neutrality
of
the
liberal
state.
Indeed,
some
critics
say
that
allowing
ethnic
and
racialized
minorities
to
maintain
their
own
cultural
practices
and
identities
separates
them
from
dominant
groups
and
reinforces
their
subordinate
positions
(Koopmans,
2010).
On
the
left,
critics
object
to
the
static
views
of
identity
at
the
heart
of
the
multicultural
political
philosophy
in
which
an
individual
is
assigned
exclusively
and
seemingly
forever
to
a
specific
ethnic
or
racial
group
(Abu-Laban
&
Gabriel,
2008).
According
to
these
critics,
policies
intended
to
encourage
minority
cultural
practices
often
inadvertently
label
them
as
the
less
valuable
practices
of
the
‘‘Other.’’
Radicals
and
antiracists
note
that
the
emphasis
on
cultural
identities
in
multiculturalism
overlooks
and
subordinates
inequalities
rooted
in
social
R.
Fincher
et
al.
/
Progress
in
Planning
92
(2014)
1–556

class,
sexuality,
and
gender
(Anthias
&
Yuval-Davis,
1992).
The
philosophical
debates
about
multiculturalism
affect
the
diverse
and
sometimes
contradictory
multi-
cultural
policies
adopted
by
nation-states
(Banting
&
Kymlicka,
2006;
Castles
&
Miller,
2009;
Koopmans,
Michalowski,
&
Waibel,
2012).
Although
some
have
implemented
policies
and
programmes
at
a
national
level
that
recognize
the
rights
of
ethnic
and
racialized
groups,
these
policies
rarely
address
ethnic
and
racialized
inequalities
effectively.
Indeed,
many
states
currently
favour
various
forms
of
assimilation
including
assimilation
to
the
dominant
culture,
rapid
integration
into
the
mainstream
accompanied
by
private
main-
tenance
of
cultural
practices
and
identities
and
corporate
and
commercial
approaches
in
which
ethnic
and
racialized
differences
are
managed
by
public
institutions
and
the
market
(Hall,
2000;
Hedetoft,
2010;
Modood
&
Meer,
2011;
Prins
&
Saharso,
2010;
Vertovec
&
Wassendorf,
2010).
Even
in
officially
multicultural
countries
such
as
Canada
and
Australia
where
the
rights
of
ethnic
and
racialized
groups
are
enshrined
in
law,
states
sometimes
downplay
their
commitments
to
equity
and
encourage
assimilation.
2.2.
Multiculturalism
in
diverse
urban
contexts
At
the
urban
level,
multicultural
policies
touch
many
aspects
of
governance
and
management,
ranging
from
statements
celebrating
diversity
as
an
economic
advantage,
to
housing
policies,
economic
development
policies
favouring
ethnic
precincts,
and
even
suppo-
sedly
inclusive
procedures
for
public
meetings
(Bollens,
2002;
Parnell
&
Pieterse,
2010;
Qadeer,
2005;
Sander-
cock,
2003).
In
this
section,
we
illustrate
how
various
planning
discourses
and
practices
regarding
demo-
graphic
multiculturalism
are
implemented
in
different
urban
contexts.
The
examples
involve
many
different
aspects
of
urban
planning
from
social
planning
to
infrastructure
(Vitiello,
2009;
Wallace
&
Frisken,
2000),
but
all
aim
to
use
the
built
environment
to
improve
people’s
current
and
future
prospects.
We
draw
attention
to
the
regional
and
national
contexts
because
of
their
influence
on
the
interpretation
of
multiculturalism
and
its
implementation
at
the
urban
level.
Urban
planners
respond
to
ethnic
and
racialized
diversity
with
various
powers
and
different
degrees
of
autonomy.
In
Singapore,
as
mentioned
earlier,
muni-
cipal
and
national
policies
are
one
and
the
same,
however,
in
Toronto,
Sydney,
Melbourne,
New
York
City,
and
Los
Angeles,
local
actions
are
limited
by
two
senior
levels
of
government.
Other
cities
such
as
Amsterdam,
Frankfurt,
and
Berlin
often
have
more
powers
to
raise
revenue
and
more
planning
authority
over
housing
and
economic
development
than
North
American
and
Australian
cities
while
the
boroughs
of
London
are
akin
to
their
colonial
counterparts.
In
the
Netherlands
and
United
Kingdom,
unitary
states,
the
actions
and
views
of
only
one
other
level
of
government,
the
national
government
is
influential,
while
strong
state
governments
also
influence
German
cities.
The
presence
of
the
European
Union
adds
to
jurisdictional
complexity
for
European
cities
(Modood
&
Meer,
2011).
The
discourses
and
practices
that
result
are
also
shaped
by
many
actors
including
politicians,
policymakers,
and
citizens
at
the
local,
regional
and
national
levels
who
often
hold
contradictory
concep-
tions
of
multiculturalism
and
rarely
agree
on
the
necessary
strategies
and
policies.
Within
these
diverse
arrangements,
local
governments
may
be
the
instru-
ments
for
implementing
multicultural
policy
developed
at
the
national
level
and
they
may
resist
it
by
promoting
a
different
policy.
Often,
a
combination
of
both
strategies
is
pursued
simultaneously.
2.3.
Local
strategies
We
begin
our
review
by
discussing
cities
where
the
local
is
recognized
as
an
important
scale
for
developing
and
implementing
multiculturalism
strategies
and
policies
proposed
by
more
senior
levels
of
government.
Reviewing
the
literature
about
planning
in
Toronto,
Sydney,
London,
and
Amsterdam
reveals
some
simila-
rities
in
the
practices
of
local
planners
despite
diverse
national
discourses
about
membership
in
the
nation.
It
also
highlights
the
limitations
of
local
planning
for
dealing
with
ethnic
and
racialized
inequalities.
The
rejection
of
multiculturalism
as
a
national
strategy
for
dealing
with
the
issues
that
arise
in
an
ethnically
and
racially
pluralistic
society
by
the
Dutch
government
has
parallels
with
the
situation
in
the
United
States
and
Germany.
While
national
discourses
in
the
United
States
recognize
its
ethnic
and
racialized
pluralism,
assimilation
is
the
official
practice.
The
national
discourse
is
increasingly
similar
in
Germany
where
recent
policy
statements
about
immigration
recognize
the
diversity
of
the
nation
and
the
importance
of
successful
integration.
Despite
the
rhetoric,
most
policies,
particularly
those
regarding
naturalization
and
education,
demonstrate
that
assimilation
still
predomi-
nates.
Although
municipal
governments
in
both
con-
texts
implement
national
programmes,
the
literature
also
reveals
planning
initiatives
at
the
local
level
that
promote
successful
living
with
difference.
R.
Fincher
et
al.
/
Progress
in
Planning
92
(2014)
1–55
7

We
end
the
review
of
local
initiatives
by
examining
planning
in
two
multicultural
cities
that
are
officially
multiracial
and
where
the
capacity
of
the
local
government
differs
markedly.
In
Singapore,
the
local
and
national
states
are
synonymous,
endowing
the
local
state
with
exceptional
power
and
resources.
The
situation
in
Singapore
indicates
how
the
impulse
to
greater
national
control
of
multicultural
policies
and
strategies
may
play
out
at
the
local
level.
It
has
immediate
lessons
for
Amsterdam
where
there
are
already
tendencies
to
greater
national
control,
but
similar
trends
are
emerging
in
Toronto.
In
Johannes-
burg,
the
situation
is
reversed.
The
1996
constitution
explicitly
bolstered
the
powers
of
local
government,
however,
in
the
post-apartheid
era,
many
local
govern-
ments
lack
the
financial
and
organizational
capacity
to
exercise
these
powers
effectively.
Although
the
limited
capacity
of
local
governments
in
Johannesburg
is
extreme,
it
illustrates
the
potential
impacts
of
austerity
on
local
planning
discourses
and
practices
in
all
multicultural
cities.
2.3.1.
Toronto:
celebrating
diversity?
In
1971,
Canada’s
first
multiculturalism
policy
recognized
ethnic
groups
and
their
rights
to
preserve
their
culture
in
an
officially
bilingual
country
(Kym-
licka,
2007).
Viewed
as
a
political
strategy
designed
to
mollify
groups
from
European
origins
who
were
neither
French
nor
English
and
might
oppose
the
Official
Languages
Act
that
established
French
and
English
as
Canada’s
official
languages,
the
policy
was
later
enshrined
in
the
Canadian
constitution.
In
1985,
the
Multiculturalism
Act
also
recognized
the
growing
racial
diversity
of
Canada
and
committed
Canada
to
eliminating
all
forms
of
discrimination
on
the
basis
of
race,
national
or
ethnic
origin,
colour,
and
religion.
All
of
the
provincial
and
territorial
governments
have
enacted
similar
legislation
although
there
is
little
coordination
between
the
two
levels
of
government.
In
this
context
of
federal
and
provincial
commitment
to
multiculturalism,
the
role
of
local
governments
is
ambiguous.
Current
multicultural
policies
provide
a
framework
for
local
action
without
mandating
a
specific
role
for
local
governments
(Frisken,
2007;
Wood
&
Gilbert,
2005).
Senior
levels
of
government
are
committed
to
working
with
nongovernmental
organiza-
tions
rather
than
municipal
governments
and
funding
for
multicultural
policies
waxes
and
wanes,
heightening
municipal
anxiety
about
long-term
initiatives
(Yan,
Chau,
&
Sangha,
2010).
Despite
the
jurisdictional
ambiguity,
Toronto
has
been
an
important
laboratory
for
local
initiatives
concerning
diversity
(Doucet,
2008;
Frisken,
2007;
Good,
2009;
Goonewardena
&
Kipfer,
2005;
Wallace
&
Frisken,
2000).
Home
to
the
largest
concentration
of
foreign-born
in
Canada,
approximately
43%
of
the
total
population,
Toronto
has
attracted
recent
newcomers
from
Asia,
Africa,
Central
and
South
America,
and
the
Caribbean
that
have
added
to
the
large
numbers
of
European
immigrants
who
arrived
before
1971
(Murdie,
2008).
Approximately
half
live
in
the
central
city,
2
the
City
of
Toronto,
and
the
other
half
in
twenty
adjacent
municipalities,
each
with
its
own
response
to
diversity.
Within
the
City
of
Toronto,
social
order
and
harmony
are
promoted
actively
by
local
funding
for
settlement
services
such
as
language
training,
job
search
work-
shops,
and
cultural
orientation
and
committees
that
allow
for
citizen
engagement
and
municipal
involve-
ment
in
federal-provincial
consultations
about
language
training
and
settlement
services
(Preston
&
Rose,
2012).
Nevertheless,
inequalities
and
unequal
treatment
persist.
Racial
profiling
by
the
police
who
stop
minority
youth
in
specific
low-income
neighbourhoods
continues
(Wortley
&
Tanner,
2004)
and
there
is
a
growing
association
between
poverty
and
minority
status
in
specific
Toronto
neighbourhoods
(United
Way
of
Greater
Toronto,
2004).
Finally,
even
though
the
number
of
municipal
politicians
from
minority
back-
grounds
has
increased,
their
numbers
decline
steadily
from
the
central
city
to
the
suburbs
(Rose
and
Preston,
2012;
Siemiatycki
&
Isin,
1997).
There
is
tremendous
variation
in
local
planning
for
ethnic
and
racialized
diversity
within
the
metropolitan
area
(Boudreau,
Keil,
&
Young,
2009;
Frisken,
2007;
Good,
2009;
Goonewardena
&
Kipfer,
2005;
Wallace
&
Frisken,
2000).
Trained
to
act
in
the
interest
of
an
undifferentiated
municipal
public,
planners
and
local
politicians
(Good,
2009)
have
been
slow
to
institute
even
basic
policies
such
as
translation
and
interpretation
services
at
public
meetings.
The
hesitation
is
most
pronounced
in
the
suburban
municipalities
where
assimilationist
views
dominate
(Frisken,
2007;
Good,
2009;
Wallace
&
Frisken,
2000)
and
conflicts
around
religious
and
retail
land
uses
persist
(Isin
&
Siemia-
tycki,
2002;
Preston
&
Lo,
2000).
The
current
responses
to
ethnic
and
racialized
diversity
in
the
Toronto
metropolitan
area
illustrate
how
pronouncements
from
senior
levels
of
government
R.
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et
al.
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in
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(2014)
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2
Central
city
refers
to
the
municipality
that
acts
as
the
employment
hub
for
a
metropolitan
area.
In
the
North
American
context,
central
cities
are
usually
the
municipalities
around
which
metropolitan
areas
have
developed.

may
take
diverse
forms
at
the
local
level,
even
when
multiculturalism
is
enshrined
in
the
national
constitu-
tion.
Without
an
official
mandate,
municipalities
are
free
to
implement
multiculturalism
policies
as
they
see
fit.
However
the
demographic
reality
of
a
multicultural
population
combined
with
senior
governments’
com-
mitments
to
nongovernmental
organizations
is
encoura-
ging
all
municipalities
to
grapple
with
multicultural
policies,
albeit
with
varying
success.
2.3.2.
Sydney:
recognizing
the
critical
role
of
local
governments?
Australia
like
Canada
is
a
settler
society
where
British
settlers
have
struggled
to
live
equitably
with
indigenous
peoples
and
subsequent
waves
of
immi-
grants
and
where
multiculturalism
has
been
contested
for
decades.
After
dismantling
the
White
Australia
Policy
in
1973,
the
national
government
adopted
a
series
of
measures
beginning
with
the
Racial
Dis-
crimination
Act
of
1975
that
prohibited
discrimination
on
the
basis
of
race.
In
the
late
1970s
and
early
1980s,
multiculturalism
was
adopted
as
a
policy
framework
to
raise
‘awareness
of
cultural
diversity
and
promote
social
cohesion,
understanding
and
tolerance’
(Australia,
2011).
Various
initiatives
including
an
Office
of
Multicultural
Affairs
in
the
early
1980s,
a
National
Multicultural
Advisory
Council
in
the
1990s
and
several
policy
statements
culminated
recently
in
the
passage
of
a
new
multicultural
policy
entitled
The
People
of
Australia
–
Australia’s
Multicultural
Policy
(Australia,
2011).
The
policy
commits
the
national
government
to
create
a
just,
inclusive
and
cohesive
society
in
which
all
can
participate
and
where
government
services
are
accessible
to
all.
The
government
will
also
promote
understanding
and
acceptance
while
responding
force-
fully
to
expressions
of
intolerance
and
discrimination.
The
national
government
pledges
to
work
with
its
state
and
local
counterparts
to
implement
programmes
that
will
achieve
the
goals
of
this
recently
announced
multiculturalism
policy.
It
is
noteworthy
that
the
recent
policy
makes
no
mention
of
the
shifting
interpretations
of
multiculturalism
in
the
1990s
and
early
years
of
the
new
millennium
when
the
then
conservative
govern-
ment
emphasized
the
British
origins
of
Australian
history
and
society
(Forrest
&
Dunn,
2010).
There
are
also
no
references
to
the
class-based
differences
associated
with
minority
status
that
have
proved
the
greatest
challenges
for
urban
planners
and
politicians
(Hage,
1997).
Recent
immigration
has
enhanced
demographic
multiculturalism
in
Australia’s
largest
cities.
The
Sydney
metropolitan
area
which
has
been
the
destination
for
approximately
a
third
of
all
immigrants
since
the
‘‘White
Australia’’
policy
ended
in
the
1970s
is
typical.
Large
numbers
of
immigrants
from
China,
Hong
Kong,
Taiwan,
South
Asia,
Southeast
Asia,
and
the
Middle
East
have
added
to
Sydney’s
diverse
population
of
European
immigrants
that
had
arrived
after
World
War
II.
Ethnic
mixing
is
still
the
norm
with
less
than
10
percent
of
white
Australians
living
in
neighbourhoods
where
they
comprise
80
percent
or
more
of
the
population
(Forrest,
Poulsen,
&
Johnston,
2006).
In
Sydney
and
other
large
Australian
cities,
a
growing
Aboriginal
population
that
suffers
multiple
forms
of
disadvantage
is
an
important
consideration
in
municipal
interpretations
of
multi-
culturalism
that
focus
almost
exclusively
on
immigrants
(Dunn,
Thompson,
Hanna,
Murphy,
&
Burnley,
2001).
The
literature
emphasizes
the
important
role
of
Australian
local
governments
in
promoting
social
order
and
harmony
even
though
local
government
authorities
have
less
power
than
their
counterparts
in
Canada,
the
United
States
and
the
United
Kingdom
(Dunn,
Hanna,
&
Thompson,
2001;
Dunn,
Thompson,
et
al.,
2001;
Forrest
&
Dunn,
2010).
Local
government
authorities
are
required
to
report
annually
on
services
for
people
from
diverse
cultural
and
linguistic
backgrounds
and
to
develop
a
social
plan
that
integrates
services
for
indigenous
peoples
and
those
from
non-English-speak-
ing
backgrounds
(Thompson,
Dunn,
Burnley,
Murphy,
&
Hanna,
1998).
Each
government
is
expected
to
ensure
equitable
access
for
all
cultural
groups
to
services,
improve
community
relations,
and
enhance
representa-
tion
and
civic
participation
of
all
cultural
groups.
In
officially
multicultural
Australia,
the
federal
and
state
levels
of
government
recognize
that
local
governments
are
critical
agents
in
achieving
social
order
and
harmony.
A
survey
of
local
officials
indicated
that
local
governments
are
using
a
variety
of
innovative
policies
and
practices
to
ensure
that
ethnic
and
racial
minorities
have
access
to
local
services
(Thompson
et
al.,
1998).
Celebrations
of
diversity
in
the
form
of
fairs,
festivals
and
other
cultural
events
are
also
widespread,
however,
critical
examinations
of
local
community
relations
and
anti-racist
policies
that
would
promote
intercultural
understanding
and
reduce
inequalities
are
more
likely
to
be
undertaken
by
local
authorities
with
large
populations
of
immigrants
than
small
ones
(Sandercock
&
Attilli,
2009).
Dunn,
Hanna,
et
al.
(2001)
and
Dunn,
Thompson,
et
al.
(2001)
argue
that
local
governments
sometimes
emphasize
fairly
narrow
aspects
of
multiculturalism,
adopting
a
view
of
integration
rooted
in
assimilation
to
‘white’
Australian
norms.
Thompson
et
al.
(1998)
explain
that
resources
are
a
major
issue,
particularly
for
small
local
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in
Planning
92
(2014)
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9

government
authorities
who
often
are
the
recipients
of
federal
and
state
directives
concerning
multicultural
policies
without
benefit
of
consultation,
sufficient
education
about
the
policies,
or
additional
resources.
Wallace
and
Frisken
(2000)
find
similar
tendencies
in
small
local
governments
in
Canada
who
play
an
equally
subordinate
role
in
the
implementation
of
national
and
provincial
policies
regarding
multiculturalism.
2.3.3.
London:
creating
cohesive
communities?
The
metropole
of
an
empire
that
spanned
the
globe,
multiculturalism
has
been
a
demographic
fact
in
London
for
decades.
Like
Tor o nto ,
and
Sydney,
London
is
a
city
of
super-diversity
(Vertovec,
2007),
home
to
British
subjects
from
all
corners
of
the
former
empire,
refugees
from
Wor ld
War
II
and
the
Cold
War,
migrant
workers
from
Southern
Europe,
British
citizens
from
the
Commonwealth,
primarily
from
the
Caribbean,
Africa,
and
Asia,
and
many
EU
citizens
who
have
the
right
to
reside,
work,
and
study
in
the
United
Kingdom
(McDowell,
Batnitzky,
&
Dyer,
2007;
Wills
et
al.,
2010).
Ethnic
and
racialized
minorities
still
experience
economic,
social
and
political
disadvantage
(Amin,
2012;
Parekh,
2000).
With
its
large
minority
population
and
its
recent
history
of
riots
and
bombings,
London
challenges
popular
notions
of
authentic
Britishness
as
rural
and
pastoral
(Neal
&
Wal ters ,
2008).
The
multicultural
policies
implemented
in
London
have
many
parallels
with
those
in
Toronto
and
Sydney,
despite
official
reluctance
to
mention
multiculturalism.
In
the
United
Kingdom,
demographic
diversity
has
been
managed
by
an
evolving
set
of
policies
and
bodies
principally
concerned
with
cohesion
and
community.
The
Race
Relations
Act
of
1976
marked
a
watershed
signifying
state
sponsorship
of
racial
equality
and
establishing
a
commission
with
powers
to
investigate
complaints
of
discrimination
and
a
broad
mandate
to
promote
equality.
Successive
governments
have
emphasized
the
role
of
local
authorities
in
fostering
good
relations
between
people
with
a
protected
characteristic
of
which
race
and
religion
are
two.
National
priorities
are
expressed
through
the
Depart-
ment
for
Communities
and
Local
Government
that
is
charged
with
achieving
integrated
communities
in
which
everyone
can
live
and
work
successfully
beside
each
other,
but
implementation
is
a
local
responsibility.
The
emphasis
on
local
initiatives
in
the
United
Kingdom
was
reinforced
by
the
Labour
government
that
came
to
power
in
1997
anxious
to
rejuvenate
local
democratic
processes
(Thornley,
Rydin,
Scanlon,
&
West ,
2002).
It
has
been
bolstered
by
neoliberal
policies
intended
to
reduce
the
size
of
government
and
the
public
sector
by
relying
on
non-governmental
organizations
to
deliver
services.
Faith
organizations
play
an
increasing
role
as
service
providers,
reflecting
in
part
the
Blair
government’s
attention
to
religious
institutions
as
a
tool
of
neoliberalism
and
commu-
nitarianism
(Grillo,
2010)
and
the
growing
salience
of
religion
rather
than
ethnicity
and
race
as
a
marker
of
diversity
in
British
society
(Peach,
2002).
The
32
Boroughs
and
City
Corporation
that
make
up
the
Greater
London
Area
share
many
of
the
same
powers
as
Australian
and
Canadian
local
governments,
so
it
is
not
surprising
that
planning
discourses
and
practices
are
similar,
despite
the
British
emphasis
on
cohesion
and
avoidance
of
any
mention
of
multi-
culturalism
in
official
national
discourses.
Many
boroughs
strive
to
improve
access
to
municipal
services
for
all
ethnic
and
racial
groups.
This
is
particularly
true
for
the
provision
of
subsidized
social
housing,
however,
structural
constraints
such
as
rising
housing
and
land
prices,
the
stagnant
incomes
of
low-income
households,
and
the
absence
of
national
investments
to
expand
the
social
housing
stock
often
hinder
efforts
to
achieve
ethnic
and
racial
mixing
(Phillips,
2010).
Some
boroughs
have
also
instituted
innovative
land
use
zoning
and
planning
processes
to
resolve
conflicts
concerning
the
development
of
religious
establishments
such
as
eruvim
and
mosques
(Gale
&
Naylor,
2002).
Employment
equity
policies
mandated
by
the
national
government
have
been
implemented
in
many
boroughs
where
there
are
large
numbers
of
minorities
(Open
Society,
2012),
however,
there
is
less
funding
and
expertise
to
promote
intercultural
understanding.
Current
activities
mainly
celebrate
diversity
through
festivals
rather
than
grappling
with
the
challenges
of
achieving
equity
for
all.
As
observed
in
Australia,
local
governments
are
acknowledged
as
crucial
actors
in
the
strategies
and
policies
intended
to
deal
with
the
problems
of
a
multicultural
society,
however,
their
actions
are
constrained
by
the
national
state.
The
creation
of
the
Greater
London
Authority,
GLA,
provided
an
opportunity
to
set
a
city-wide
agenda
on
cohesion
and
community
that
could
balance
the
dominant
influence
of
the
national
government.
However,
Thornley
et
al.
(2002)
note
that
the
mandate
of
the
GLA
was
highly
constrained
initially,
while
interests
other
than
those
of
business
had
few
avenues
to
influence
its
agenda.
As
a
result,
austerity
measures
being
implemented
nationally
in
the
United
Kingdom
currently
threaten
boroughs’
efforts
to
promote
community
cohesion.
R.
Fincher
et
al.
/
Progress
in
Planning
92
(2014)
1–5510

2.3.4.
Amsterdam:
abandoning
multiculturalism?
In
the
Netherlands,
national
multiculturalism
poli-
cies
emphasizing
the
value
of
different
cultures,
tolerance
for
cultural
differences,
and
optimism
about
future
integration
dominated
until
the
1990s
(Priemus,
2007).
Indeed,
the
Netherlands
was
seen
as
a
model
of
how
to
promote
successful
multiculturalism.
In
response
to
the
increasing
diversity
of
Amsterdam
and
other
large
Dutch
cities
where
growing
numbers
of
Turkish
and
Moroccan
guestworkers
and
Surinamese
colonials
had
settled,
the
state
enabled
the
development
of
schools
and
other
services
operated
by
each
minority
group
(Engelen,
2006;
Prins,
2002;
Rath,
2009)
under
the
Minorities
Policy
that
was
passed
in
1979.
Since
the
1990s,
these
policies
have
been
reversed
at
the
national
level
in
response
to
strident
demands
that
migrants
and
their
children
assimilate.
State
funding
for
the
largest
ethnic
groups
to
form
advisory
bodies
that
local
governments
were
obliged
to
consult
has
been
reduced
drastically
and
is
now
available
only
to
organizations
that
represent
multiple
ethnic
groups
(Entzinger,
2006).
Multiculturalism
policies
have
been
criticized
for
encouraging
the
segregation
of
minorities
who
are
described
as
unwilling
and
unable
to
learn
Dutch
and
adopt
Dutch
culture
and
blamed
for
their
persistent
economic
difficulties
(Koopmans,
2010).
In
response,
the
recent
Civic
Integration
Act
explicitly
refutes
multiculturalism
and
group
rights,
emphasizing
that
individual
migrants
are
responsible
for
integrating
into
Dutch
society.
To
obtain
permanent
residence,
indivi-
dual
migrants
must
pass
demanding
language
and
cultural
tests,
be
self-reliant
financially,
including
paying
for
language
courses,
and
demonstrate
that
they
are
active
in
their
neighbourhoods
and
commu-
nities
(The
Netherlands,
2013).
Local
governments
are
identified
explicitly
in
recent
policy
documents
as
key
actors
in
ensuring
successful
integration,
by
promoting
self-reliance
and
involvement
in
Dutch
society
through
their
administration
of
the
social
welfare
system.
Municipal
attention
has
focused
on
the
links
between
concentrated
poverty
and
ethnic
and
racial
segregation
in
Amsterdam
and
other
large
Dutch
cities.
Municipal
governments
that
administer
subsidized
housing
for
low-income
households
are
responsible
for
planning
interventions
that
will
reduce
the
spatial
concentration
of
economically
marginalized
groups
who
are
also
mainly
minorities.
The
‘Big
City’
Policy
was
instituted
in
the
Netherlands
in
the
late
1990s
to
reduce
segregation
of
low-income
groups,
regardless
of
their
ethnic
and
racial
backgrounds
by
redeveloping
the
housing
stock.
Areas
that
had
been
predominantly
subsidized
rental
units
were
replaced
with
a
mixed
housing
stock
that
included
owned
and
rented
units,
subsidized
and
market
rentals,
and
low-rise
and
high-rise
structures
(Bolt
&
van
Kempen,
2010;
Priemus,
2007).
The
policy
has
been
partially
success-
ful.
Mixed
income
populations
are
now
found
in
redeveloped
areas
however,
ethnic
and
racial
segrega-
tion
has
not
declined
much.
Many
minority
households
simply
relocated
to
nearby
enclaves
of
low-cost
housing
where
other
minority
households
are
already
concen-
trated
(Priemus,
2007).
The
Netherlands
is
an
extreme
example
of
the
recent
rejection
of
multiculturalism
policies
in
parts
of
Western
Europe.
In
responding
to
this
shifting
national
discourse,
local
planners
are
hamstrung
by
the
previous
Minorities
Policies
that
encouraged
development
of
services
that
were
offered
separately
by
each
ethnic
and
religious
organization
rather
than
by
multicultural
organizations
or
local
government
offices
equipped
to
work
with
diverse
clients.
National
discourses
and
policies
now
discourage
local
attempts
to
provide
culturally
appropriate
services
in
multiple
languages
and
the
integration
activities
of
local
governments
will
be
reduced
when
national
funding
for
most
integration
activities
is
withdrawn
in
the
near
future.
The
national
government
has
already
stated
its
intention
to
end
funding
for
language
training
and
classes
about
Dutch
history
and
culture
that
local
governments
had
offered
without
charge
to
qualified
migrants.
Although
local
efforts
to
reduce
concentrations
of
low-income
house-
holds
by
redeveloping
housing
persist,
these
policies
are
having
unintended
and
unexpected
consequences
that
may
well
heighten
the
economic
marginalization
of
minorities
and,
simultaneously,
may
increase
their
segregation.
2.3.5.
New
York:
privatizing
multiculturalism?
Multiculturalism
in
the
United
States
is
viewed
as
a
private
responsibility
of
the
individual
and
his
or
her
family
(Bloemraad,
2003,
2011).
Assimilation
is
de
facto
the
official
practice
at
the
national
level.
As
a
result,
programmes
to
promote
cultural
retention
and
successful
integration
such
as
dance
and
arts
pro-
grammes,
language
classes,
and
housing
targeting
specific
minorities
are
offered
mainly
by
non-profit
organizations
rather
than
public
agencies.
Although
many
of
these
organizations
receive
some
government
funds,
their
non-profit
status,
autonomous
governing
boards,
and
ability
to
raise
charitable
funds
allows
them
to
operate
somewhat
more
independently
than
public
agencies
(Ray,
2004;
Trudeau
&
Veronis,
2009).
Even
where
services
for
minorities
are
available
through
public
agencies
such
as
school
boards,
their
goals
must
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be
assessed
carefully.
For
example,
foreign-language
programmes
in
many
public
schools
are
often
intended
to
promote
English-language
learning
by
ensuring
sound
literacy
skills
in
the
child’s
first
language.
Rather
than
maintaining
minority
cultures,
these
language
programmes
promote
assimilation
by
facilitating
the
acquisition
of
English
(Haque,
2012).
At
the
local
level,
the
Mayor’s
Office
for
Immigrant
Affairs
in
New
York
City
is
charged
with
promoting
the
well-being
of
all
immigrants
(City
of
New
York,
2012)
by
ensuring
that
city
services
are
provided
in
multiple
languages
and
that
each
city
department
provides
services
targeting
immigrants
that
will
facilitate
their
settlement.
Many
other
policies
indirectly
support
these
initiatives.
Equal
opportunity
employment
programmes
and
minority
contracting
programmes
that
were
implemented
to
combat
the
discrimination
faced
by
African-Americans
also
benefit
newly
arrived
minority
workers
and
entrepreneurs
(Ray,
2003;
Waldinger,
1996).
The
city
government
also
actively
publicizes
and
financially
supports
ethnic
precincts
designed
to
attract
tourists
and
residents
interested
in
celebrating
cultural
diversity
in
restaurants
and
stores.
New
York
City
is
typical
of
many
central
cities
with
large
immigrant
populations
that
have
reiterated
their
commitment
to
ensuring
the
legal
rights
of
immigrants
and
providing
services
for
all
eligible
residents
regardless
of
their
immigration
status
(Foner,
2007;
Walker
&
Leitner,
2011).
A
recent
series
of
local
laws
and
executive
orders
in
New
York
City
has
tried
to
improve
immigrants’
access
to
city
services
and
the
city
does
not
participate
in
the
Section
287(g)
programme
that
empowers
local
police
officers
to
enforce
immigration
legislation.
New
York
City’s
commitment
to
policies
promoting
immi-
grant
integration
contrasts
with
the
tense
relations
between
immigrants
and
American-born
residents
in
nearby
suburban
municipalities
where
anti-migrant
municipal
ordinances
prohibiting
landlords
from
rent-
ing
to
undocumented
migrants
and
forbidding
migrant
workers
from
soliciting
employment
in
public
have
been
implemented
(Foner,
2007;
Leitner
&
Preston,
2012;
Walker
&
Leitner,
2011).
There
are
parallels
with
the
Toronto
metropolitan
area
where
municipal
legislation
and
services
promot-
ing
immigrant
integration
is
more
developed
in
the
central
city
than
in
adjacent
suburban
municipalities.
The
parallels
are
noteworthy
because
the
national
and
state
contexts
differ
so
dramatically.
Multicultur-
alism
has
been
a
national
policy
in
Canada
and
Australia
and
community
cohesion
has
been
the
goal
of
successive
British
governments,
unlike
the
United
States
where
private
responsibility
for
multicultural
activities
predominates.
Despite
this
dominant
perspec-
tive,
New
York
City
like
other
central
city
governments
in
the
United
State
uses
many
of
the
same
planning
interventions
found
in
Canadian,
Australian,
and
British
cities.
The
American
case
illustrates
how
privatizing
the
maintenance
of
cultural
heritage
contributes
to
diverse
planning
responses
at
the
local
level.
New
York
City,
like
other
central
cities
such
as
Los
Angeles
and
Miami,
uses
local
planning
interventions
to
mitigate
some
of
the
inequalities
associated
with
ethnic
and
racialized
diversity,
while
more
homogeneous
suburban
munici-
palities
adopt
policies
that
reinforce
and
stigmatize
difference.
2.3.6.
Berlin:
resisting
national
discourses?
Germany
is
well
known
for
its
conflicted
and
complicated
official
positions
regarding
multicultural-
ism
(e.g.
Banting
&
Kymlicka,
2006;
Phillips,
2010;
Rath,
2011;
Scho
¨nwa
˘lder,
2007).
Recently,
the
Chan-
cellor
of
Germany,
Angela
Merkel,
attracted
attention
world-wide
by
declaring
that
multiculturalism
in
Germany
had
failed
(Weaver,
2010).
Multiculturalism
has
come
to
represent
official
and
popular
ambivalence
about
immigration.
The
populations
of
Turkish
guest-
workers
and
their
descendants
living
in
German
cities
sharply
contradict
widely
held
notions
concerning
the
homogeneity
of
the
German
population
(Beer,
Deniz,
&
Schwedler,
2007;
Ehrkamp,
2010).
Even
though
the
federal
government
never
adopted
a
multiculturalism
policy,
its
rhetoric
about
diversity
has
evolved,
creating
openings
for
multicultural
initiatives.
With
changes
in
the
citizenship
law
in
1999
and
a
revised
Immigration
Act
implemented
on
January
1,
2005,
the
national
government
abandoned
rhetorical
claims
that
Germany
was
NOT
a
country
of
immigra-
tion.
Implicitly,
the
new
legislation
recognizes
that
immigrants
comprise
a
permanent
segment
of
German
society
and
planning
should
focus
on
integration
(Piening
&
Germerhausen,
2007;
Scho
¨nwa
˘lder,
2007).
In
this
context,
the
federal
government,
the
Bund,
introduced
the
Socially
Integrative
City
pro-
gramme
setting
redevelopment
goals
for
parts
of
cities
where
economic
disadvantage
is
high.
Unlike
the
‘Big
City’
policy
in
the
Netherlands
that
concentrates
mainly
on
the
redevelopment
of
the
housing
stock
to
disperse
disadvantaged
households
and
attract
affluent
house-
holds,
the
Socially
Integrative
City
programme
encourages
state
actors
to
collaborate
with
representa-
tives
from
the
public
and
private
sectors
in
each
neighbourhood
(Hausserman,
2007).
Recognizing
that
the
federal
government
is
unwilling
to
pay
all
of
the
costs
for
redevelopment,
the
goal
is
to
leverage
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resources
within
the
local
area
while
promoting
tolerance
and
mutual
understanding.
Recent
evaluations
(Beer
et
al.,
2007;
Hausserman,
2007)
suggest
that
the
involvement
of
neighbourhood
residents
and
institu-
tions
in
decision-making
is
a
welcome
but
incomplete
innovation.
In
Berlin,
Neighbourhood
Councils
mainly
involved
the
most
educated
and
successful
residents
from
disadvantaged
areas,
concentrated
on
minority
rather
than
neighbourhood
representation,
and
were
hamstrung
by
the
limited
economic
resources
in
disadvantaged
neighbourhoods.
The
emphasis
on
disadvantaged
‘‘immigrants’’
in
the
recent
activities
of
Neighbourhood
Councils
contrasts
with
the
policy
directions
adopted
in
2005
by
the
Berlin
government.
The
Berlin
policy
promotes
integration
by
recognizing
that
the
receiving
society
and
immigrants
should
enter
into
a
dialogue
to
reach
agreement
about
core
values
and
integration
targets
(Piening
&
Germerhausen,
2007).
An
Advisory
Council
was
established
under
the
auspices
of
the
Office
of
the
Commissioner
for
Integration
in
which
immigrant
organizations
and
municipal
departments
will
partici-
pate.
Many
of
the
principles
and
proposed
programmes
for
the
new
integration
policy
hearken
back
to
those
established
in
Frankfurt
–
am-Main
in
1989
(Friedmann
&
Lehrer,
1997).
Two
aspects
of
the
Berlin
initiatives
are
noteworthy.
While
the
national
government
has
no
official
multi-
culturalism
policy
and
promotes
assimilation
in
its
rhetoric,
a
municipal
government
has
created
initiatives
that
share
many
of
the
inclusionary
characteristics
of
multicultural
programmes
elsewhere.
At
the
same
time,
the
Socially
Integrative
City
programme
highlights
the
limits
of
neighbourhood-based
initiatives
(Hausserman,
2007).
Economic
inequality
and
disadvantage
as
well
as
inadequate
housing
conditions
are
difficult
if
not
impossible
to
address
successfully
with
policies
concerned
solely
with
the
neighbourhood
and
when
local
autonomy
is
limited
by
federal
funding
that
reflects
the
goals
and
interests
of
the
Bund.
Although
the
local
level
may
offer
possibilities
for
progressive
social
change
to
promote
equal
opportunities
for
all
cultural
groups,
the
scope
for
change
is
limited
by
national
policies
that
are
in
the
initial
stages
of
a
transition
from
assimilation
to
integration.
2.3.7.
Singapore:
achieving
cosmopolitan
multiracialism?
Singapore
stands
alone
among
the
cities
and
countries
that
we
have
reviewed
as
a
multiracial
city-
state
(Ang
&
Stratton,
1995;
Huat,
2003;
Moore,
2000).
As
a
British
colony,
Singapore
grew
from
an
island
with
a
small
Malay
population
to
a
major
city
populated
by
Chinese,
Malays,
South
Asians,
and
Europeans.
From
independence
in
1959
from
the
United
Kingdom
and
then
from
Malaysia
in
1965,
the
Singaporean
govern-
ment
has
always
recognized
the
multiracial
character
of
the
population.
In
this
review,
Singapore
is
also
the
only
city
that
is
also
a
national
state.
While
the
Singapore
government
shares
common
legal
structures
and
precedents
with
those
of
the
United
Kingdom,
Canada,
Australia,
and
even
the
United
States,
as
a
unitary
state,
its
urban
policies
are
often
more
muscular
and
interventionist.
As
a
result,
urban
planning
plays
a
major
role
in
the
management
of
diversity
and
difference.
The
Singapore
government
has
pursued
an
explicit
policy
of
multiracialism
linked
to
a
commitment
to
merit-based
social
mobility
(Ang
&
Stratton,
1995).
The
racial
composition
of
Singapore
has
not
changed
much
since
independence,
with
a
population
that
is
75
percent
Chinese,
15
percent
Malay,
7
percent
Indian,
and
approximately
3
percent
other
known
as
Eurasian.
Racial
categories
are
fixed
at
birth
by
registration,
usually
in
the
racial
group
of
the
child’s
father.
Upon
independence,
the
Singapore
government
argued
that
economic
growth
fuelled
by
a
capitalist
economy
would
benefit
people
from
all
races,
so
people
from
each
of
the
racial
groups
are
to
be
treated
the
same,
rewarded
solely
on
the
basis
of
merit.
With
this
ideological
stance,
an
economic
hierarchy
that
favours
Chinese
and
in
which
Malays
are
found
at
the
bottom
with
Indians
in
the
middle
persists.
One
response
to
the
persistent
economic
disparities
allowed
the
Malay
community
to
form
a
self-help
group,
Mendaki,
funded
by
donations
from
all
Muslims
and
by
matching
money
from
the
government
(Moore,
2000).
The
government
also
provided
space,
training
and
staff
to
the
organiza-
tion
that
offered
tutoring
services
and
scholarships
to
improve
the
educational
outcomes
for
Malay
children.
In
response
to
Malay
children’s
improved
examination
results,
Indian
and
Chinese
self-help
groups
were
formed,
ostensibly
to
help
community
members
in
the
lowest-income
brackets.
However,
this
decision
rein-
forced
existing
inequality.
Due
to
the
predominance
of
Chinese
in
Singapore,
the
Chinese
self-help
group
has
more
funding
and
offers
more
extensive
services
than
the
other
two
organizations,
enhancing
the
educational
achievements
of
the
Chinese
who
are
already
economic-
ally
dominant
(Moore,
2000).
Housing
is
a
second
critical
arena
in
which
the
Singapore
government
has
pursued
its
goals
of
a
harmonious
multiracial
society
and
simultaneously
addressed
some
of
the
economic
disparities
among
the
three
main
racial
groups
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(Huat,
2003).
With
more
than
85
percent
of
the
population
living
in
housing
developed
by
the
Singapore
government,
the
government
enforces
strict
quotas
on
the
racial
backgrounds
of
residents
in
each
housing
development
(Sin,
2003).
In
developments
where
the
racial
mix
deviates
from
the
national
proportions
for
each
of
the
three
main
groups,
housing
units
are
only
offered
for
sale
to
members
of
under-
represented
groups.
Current
policies
in
Singapore
reify
racial
and
ethnic
identities.
Singapore
citizens
are
assigned
to
one
of
three
racial
categories,
regardless
of
their
own
identification
with
them
(Ang
&
Stratton,
1995).
The
rigidity
of
racial
categories
is
reinforced
by
policies
that
rely
on
ethnic
organizations
to
deal
with
social
and
economic
inequalities
and
that
assign
housing
units
on
the
basis
of
racial
category.
These
policies
have
not
always
led
to
social
order
and
harmony.
Public
controversies
have
arisen
regularly
in
response
to
government-mandated
redevelopment
of
ethnic
enclaves
(Chang,
2000b;
Kong,
2003)
and
contempor-
ary
international
migration
is
disrupting
the
current
social
hierarchy.
Growing
numbers
of
immigrants
enter
temporarily
as
domestic
workers,
low-skill
workers,
and
highly
skilled
workers
(Yeoh
&
Lin,
2012).
The
presence
of
growing
numbers
of
temporary
workers
is
altering
labour
market
conditions.
For
example,
after
years
of
lobbying,
domestic
workers
have
finally
earned
the
right
to
one
day
off
each
week,
setting
a
minimum
standard
for
all
workers.
There
is
also
growing
concern
that
skilled
foreigners
are
competing
with
Singapore
citizens
for
managerial
and
profes-
sional
jobs.
The
government
response
is
very
familiar.
It
has
attempted
to
promote
intercultural
interaction
between
immigrants
and
other
residents
of
Singapore
by
a
Community
Integration
Fund
and
an
enhanced
orientation
programme
for
immigrants
that
introduces
them
to
Singapore
culture
and
history,
policies
similar
to
those
adopted
in
other
cities
of
immigrants
such
as
Amsterdam.
Despite
its
distinctive
character,
multi-
racialism
in
a
unitary
state
evokes
some
of
the
same
planning
discourses
and
practices
that
we
saw
in
cities
where
current
national
discourses
emphasize
cultural
diversity
and
official
discussions
of
race
and
racializa-
tion
are
rare.
2.3.8.
Johannesburg:
undoing
apartheid?
In
the
post-apartheid
era,
South
Africa
adopted
many
tenets
of
multiculturalism
and
simultaneously
recog-
nized
the
role
of
local
governments
in
achieving
social
order
and
harmony
in
the
complex
multiracial
and
multiethnic
society
that
is
contemporary
South
Africa.
Struggling
with
the
question
of
who
is
a
South
African,
the
1996
Constitution
recognizes
cultural
pluralism,
bans
racialism
and
sexism,
and
protects
the
cultural,
linguistic,
gender,
and
religious
rights
of
individuals
(Bekker
&
Leidle
´,
2003).
Citizenship
is
granted
to
legal
permanent
residents,
however,
all
those
residing
in
South
Africa
enjoy
some
limited
rights
(Klaaren,
2010).
Equally
important,
the
constitution
calls
for
cooperation
between
all
three
levels
of
government,
central,
provincial,
and
local,
in
which
each
level
of
government
has
a
‘distinctive,
interrelated,
and
interdependent’
role.
Enforcement
of
the
constitution,
particularly
the
clauses
banning
racism
and
sexism,
protecting
individual
rights,
and
promoting
cultural
pluralism
are
shared
among
all
three
levels
of
government
(Bekker
&
Leidle
´,
2003).
The
government
also
reviewed
the
boundaries,
respon-
sibilities
and
powers
of
local
governments,
so
that
by
2004,
the
large
cities
such
as
Johannesburg
and
Cape
Town
had
metropolitan
governments
underpinned
by
numerous
small
local
governments.
The
cultural
diversity
of
South
Africa
is
astonishing.
As
an
example,
the
1996
Constitution
recognizes
eleven
official
languages
(Bekker
&
Leidle
´,
2003).
In
addition
to
the
racialized
categories
that
prevailed
under
apartheid,
traditional
tribal
affiliations,
and
multiple
linguistic
groups,
migrants
have
added
to
the
diversity
of
South
African
society.
There
is
a
long
history
of
cross-border
labour
migration
to
the
mines,
South
Africa
now
recognizes
the
rights
to
asylum
of
refugees
although
the
refugee
claimant
system
is
under-resourced
and
slow,
and
the
number
of
legal
immigrants
from
Africa,
Europe
and
North
America
is
increasing
after
plummeting
in
the
1990s
(Crush,
2008).
An
unknown
but
large
number
of
unauthorized
migrants
also
enter
annually
from
nearby
African
states.
Simone
(2004)
has
captured
the
everyday
experience
of
diversity
on
certain
Johannesburg
streets
in
his
remarkable
ethnography.
Cultural
diversity
in
South
Africa
is
linked
inexorably
with
inequality.
It
has
proved
difficult
to
undo
the
legacy
of
apartheid
that
favoured
services
and
facilities
for
white
South
Africans
at
the
expense
of
all
other
ethnic
and
racial
groups
(Parnell
&
Pieterse,
2010).
While
local
governments
rely
on
many
of
the
tools
used
elsewhere,
they
must
also
create
the
administrative
structures
and
practices
needed
for
local
governance
and
management.
For
example,
local
governments
are
charged
with
promoting
civic
parti-
cipation,
however
just
as
we
saw
in
Berlin,
the
capacity
of
different
individuals
and
groups
to
engage
with
local
governments
varies.
In
the
case
of
Johannesburg,
local
participation
also
required
functioning
local
governments
that
hold
regular
elections
and
where
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et
al.
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in
Planning
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(2014)
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elected
officials
are
accountable
to
their
constituents,
a
novelty
in
some
areas
of
the
city
(Liepitz,
2008).
Parnell
and
Pieterse
(2010)
note
that
support
for
neoliberalism
that
reduces
city
resources
also
limits
the
rights
of
poor
minorities.
Ambitious
plans
to
extend
basic
utilities
such
as
electricity
and
water
lines
and
to
improve
schools
and
other
educational
facilities
have
been
stymied
as
much
by
limited
administrative
infrastructure
as
by
limited
financial
resources.
For
example,
property
ownership
is
well
documented
in
wealthy
areas
dominated
by
white
South
Africans,
but
it
is
not
clear
in
many
poor
areas
where
coloured
and
black
residents
are
concentrated
(Parnell
&
Pieterse,
2010).
In
this
context
where
basic
administrative
infrastructure
is
very
uneven,
local
governments
are
having
great
difficulty
achieving
the
multicultural
equality
called
for
in
the
recent
federal
constitution.
Under
the
1996
Constitution,
local
governments
must
recognize
the
self-determination
rights
of
cultural,
religious,
and
linguistic
communities
and
where
appropriate
the
roles
of
traditional
chiefs
and
customary
law
(Bekker
&
Leidle
´,
2003).
Language
policies
and
programmes
provide
some
insight
into
possible
future
local
efforts
to
deal
with
cultural
diversity.
Language
has
particularly
potent
political
connotations
in
South
Africa
where
Afrikaans
and
English
spoken
mainly
by
whites
were
the
official
languages
during
apartheid.
In
this
context,
multilingualism
is
embraced
as
a
move
away
from
apartheid
that
undermines
essentialised
ethnic
and
racial
identities
while
allowing
for
inter-
cultural
understanding,
a
critical
prerequisite
for
successful
initiatives
at
the
local
level
(Barnard,
2006).
Simone
(2004)
describes
how
individuals
from
multiple
linguistic
and
cultural
groups
interact
success-
fully
along
the
streets
of
Johannesburg.
It
remains
to
see
if
local
governments
can
help
South
African
society
move
beyond
these
informal
means
of
living
together
to
achieve
the
promise
of
the
1996
Constitution
without
substantial
infusions
of
financial
and
other
resources.
2.4.
Commonalities
and
differences
Reviewing
urban
examples
of
multiculturalism
highlights
its
diverse
meanings.
Although
urban
planners
and
politicians
from
all
the
cities
that
we
have
considered
share
the
goal
of
achieving
social
order
and
harmonious
relations
among
different
ethnic
and
racial
groups,
the
contexts
of
their
activities
vary.
While
ambivalence
about
multiculturalism
persists
in
all
of
the
nation-states
that
we
have
considered,
official
views
range
from
the
celebratory
stance
of
the
City
of
Toronto
to
the
emphasis
on
private
responsibility
for
maintenance
of
cultural
and
linguistic
heritage
in
New
York
City.
Multiracialism
characterizes
Singapore
where
policies
focus
on
the
numbers
of
people
from
different
racial
backgrounds
to
ensure
that
in
all
contexts,
the
population
represents
the
racial
composi-
tion
of
the
nation.
In
Johannesburg,
the
racialization
stemming
from
apartheid
frames
all
planning
concern-
ing
cultural
difference.
There
is
a
shared
and
growing
concern
with
concentrations
of
ethnic
and
racial
minorities
that
are
also
suffering
economic
disadvantage,
however,
policy
responses
are
highly
varied.
In
Amsterdam,
the
‘Big
City’
policy
seeks
to
reverse
decline
by
altering
the
housing
stock
in
disadvantaged
neighbourhoods,
while
in
Singapore,
the
government
closely
monitors
the
racial
composition
of
housing
developments
to
promote
mixing.
In
Toronto,
social
and
cultural
programmes
have
been
introduced
in
priority
neighbourhoods
of
concentrated
poverty
and
minority
settlement.
A
similar
strategy
is
being
adopted
in
Berlin
where
Neighbour-
hood
Councils
are
supposed
to
encourage
community
participation
in
urban
planning
and
in
Johannesburg
where
the
local
government
is
experimenting
with
various
forms
of
civic
participation.
In
New
York
City,
on
the
other
hand,
municipal
programmes
are
designed
more
narrowly
to
promote
intercultural
interaction
rather
than
reduce
poverty.
Regardless
of
the
national
views
regarding
multi-
culturalism,
local
governments
engage
in
remarkably
similar
practices
to
reduce
tensions
and
increase
cohesion
when
cultural
difference
is
associated
with
disadvantage.
The
commonalities
in
planning
practices
may
reflect
the
range
of
policy
levers
available
to
planners
at
the
local
level.
Historically,
urban
planning
that
is
concerned
with
how
to
reduce
inequality
and
its
potential
for
conflict
and
discord
within
urban
societies
has
been
less
developed
than
other
branches
of
contemporary
urban
planning.
In
the
current
neoliberal
era
where
the
market
dominates,
urban
planning
is
viewed
as
the
handmaiden
to
investment
and
redeve-
lopment,
concentrating
on
physical
planning
such
as
housing
redevelopment
rather
than
the
traditional
goals
of
social
planning.
The
economic
priorities
of
neoliberal
urban
governance
also
contribute
to
the
similarities
in
practices.
Market-oriented
solutions
to
the
marginalization
of
minorities
are
now
in
favour
in
many
of
the
cities
that
we
studied,
leading
to
homogenization
of
planning
discourses
and
practices.
The
rapid
transfer
of
neoliberal
policies
from
one
national
jurisdiction
to
another
has
also
contributed
to
the
commonalities
that
we
have
observed
across
these
diverse
national
contexts
(Peck,
2011;
Robinson,
2011).
R.
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et
al.
/
Progress
in
Planning
92
(2014)
1–55
15

Neoliberal
governance
encourages
local
responses
to
ethnic
and
racialized
difference,
in
an
effort
to
hold
all
stakeholders
responsible
for
social
order
and
harmony
regardless
of
whether
they
have
the
power
to
make
change.
3.
Social
mixing:
the
significance
of
residential
space
In
a
context
in
which
immigration
has
greatly
diversified
the
racial
and
cultural
mix
of
urban
residents
as
well
as
increased
inequalities
in
wealth,
patterns
of
spatial
segregation
of
the
poor
and
of
ethnic
and
racial
minorities
have
engendered
anxieties
among
planners,
policy
makers
and
social
scientists
alike.
At
the
same
time,
socio-spatial
mixing
has
been
hailed
for
its
possibilities
of
promoting
social
cohesion,
upward
mobility
and
neighbourhood
regeneration.
In
this
section
we
consider
how
urban
planning
in
its
various
forms
has
attempted
to
manage
this
‘‘ungleiche
Vielfalt’’
(unequal
diversity)
of
cities
through
inter-
ventions
into
residential
spaces.
State-sanctioned,
market-reinforced
and/or
cultu-
rally
buttressed
residential
segregation
was
the
pre-
dominant
solution
or
‘cure
of
problems’
associated
with
social
inequalities
and
ethnic
and
racial
difference
in
many
‘modern’
cities
up
into
the
20th
century
(in
some
contexts
very
far
into
the
20th
century).
This
was
especially
the
case
regarding
the
racialized
Other,
in
both
colonial
and
metropolitan
contexts,
but
also
the
social,
internal
Other
at
times.
However,
policies
that
explicitly
endorse
the
racial
and
ethnic
segregation
of
space
have
become
less
politically
tenable
in
many
contemporary
liberal
democracies
(with
some
notable
exceptions
see
Yiftachel,
2009),
and
have
been
replaced
by
social
mix
as
the
dominant
frame
of
reference
for
planning.
Over
the
past
50
years
immigrant
and
ethnic
and
racial
minority
‘ghettos’
have
become
sites
of
particular
anxiety
for
many
planners
in
European
and
North
American
cities.
Concentrations
of
social,
cultural
and
racial
Others
have
been
associated
with
high
unem-
ployment;
high
population
densities;
high
crime
rates
and
lack
of
safety;
poor
housing
stock
and
social
disorder.
A well-known
example
is
that
of
the
modernist
experiment
on
Amsterdam’s
Southeastern
fringe,
the
Bijlmeer.
Rejected
in
the
1970s
by
Dutch
middle
classes
for
low-rise
homes
in
the
suburbs,
‘Bijlmeer’
(as
it
is
commonly
called)
became
the
place
to
settle
the
poor,
the
unemployed
and
recent
arrivals
(Mak,
2003).
Many
immigrants
from
newly
independent
Surinam
settled
in
the
Bijlmeer
after
1975,
constituting
what
came
to
be
thought
of
as
the
Netherlands’
first
‘black
town’,
with
only
between
20
and
30%
of
residents
of
Dutch
origin.
This
first
‘black
town’
has
been
pathologised
by
planners
for
its
unappealing
aesthetic,
its
isolation
from
the
rest
of
the
networked
city,
and
high
levels
of
population
turnover
and
housing
vacancy
(Helleman
&
Wassenberg,
2004).
Across
diversifying
Northern
cities,
neighbourhoods
like
Bijlmeer,
Brixton
in
London,
and
Kreuzberg
in
Berlin,
have
become
spatial
‘testing
grounds’
for
different
planning
and
policy
solutions,
one
of
the
most
prominent
being
social
mixing.
By
‘social
mix’
or
‘socio-spatial
mixing,’
we
mean
planning
efforts
that
strive
for
some
combination
of
the
following:
balancing
the
socio-economic
variance
of
residents;
a
mix
of
different
housing
tenures
(public
and
private
rentals,
owner-occupation);
facilitating
a
mix
of
age
groups;
and
achieving
the
right
variation
in
the
ethnic
or
racial
mix
of
residents,
usually
in
a
spatially
defined
area
(neighbourhood,
block,
street
or
even
building)
(Arthurson,
2010b,
p.
226–227).
In
this
section
we
trace
the
discursive
shifts
and
practices
in
social
mix
planning
as
they
unfolded
since
the
early
20th
century
across
space
and
time
(on
the
evolution
of
the
idea
of
social
mix
also
see
Sarkissian,
1976).
We
locate
these
in
a
range
of
20th
century
social
scientific
theories,
including
spatial
assimilation
theory,
contact
theory,
culture
of
poverty,
urban
underclass,
and
neighbourhood
effects
theses,
and
arguments
around
social
capital.
Informed
by
these
concepts
we
trace
two
distinct,
but
connected
periods
of
concentrated
energy
around
social
mix:
that
of
inter-war
socialism
and
post-
war
Keynesian
social
liberalism,
and
neoliberalism
since
the
early
1980s.
Within
these
periods
we
identify
and
interpret
changes
in
(1)
the
subjects
of
intervention
–
at
times
the
poor,
in
other
moments,
the
racial
Other
or
the
foreigner
(never
the
‘native’
affluent);
and
(2)
the
various
sites
and
strategies
of
intervention
–
from
neighbourhood
settlement
quotas,
to
dispersal
policies,
housing
restructuring
(tenure
diversification,
in
situ
upgrading),
to
area-based
urban
renewal,
and
the
creation
of
spaces
for
intercultural
encounter.
Finally,
we
review
and
assess
conceptual
critiques
of
social
mix
policies
and
attempts
to
measure
their
efficacy
on
the
ground.
3.1.
Planning
for
social
mix
–
early
socialism
and
Keynesian
liberalism
It
was
in
the
early
part
of
the
20th
century
that
social
mix
planning
was
implemented
on
a
large
scale
for
the
first
time.
It
was
taken
up
in
parts
of
Europe
within
a
R.
Fincher
et
al.
/
Progress
in
Planning
92
(2014)
1–5516

radical
redistributive
project
that
was
organized
around
specific
notions
of
workers’
rights
as
citizens
through
social
housing.
Residential
mix
in
Vienna
in
the
1930s,
and
Berlage’s
Southeastern
extension
of
Amsterdam
for
example
were
aimed
at
realizing
the
right
of
the
working
class
(not
just
the
affluent)
to
live
in
beautiful
and
well-located
parts
of
the
city
and
to
facilitate
working
class
sociality
and
solidarity
through
urban
design
(Bobek
&
Lichtenberger,
1978;
Marcuse,
1985;
Wagenaar,
2003).
It
was
an
explicitly
class-oriented
project,
with
little
in-migration
into
Europe
at
this
time.
In
the
US,
urban
policy-makers
and
scholars
were
less
interested
in
building
worker
solidarity,
and
more
interested
in
the
integration
of
European
immigrants
through
a
natural
process
of
‘‘spatial
assimilation’’
from
ethnic
ghettos
to
assimilated
suburbia
by
the
third
generation
(Gordon,
1964;
Park,
Burgess,
&
McKenzie,
1925).
Social
assimilation
was
deemed
a
function
of
spatial
proximity
between
groups,
but
required
the
right
mix
of
migrants
within
dominant
populations.
However,
at
the
time,
there
was
little
active
planning
intervention
to
produce
these
proximities,
and
racial
segregation
remained
entrenched.
In
colonial
urban
planning
more
generally,
ethnic
and
racial
mix
was
to
be
actively
prevented
through
spatial
buffer
zones,
segregated
housing
and
amenities,
and
urban
influx
control
mechanisms
(Home,
1997;
King,
1976).
Urban
reconstruction
after
the
Second
World
War
in
Europe
under
social
liberalism
gave
planners
the
room
to
think
the
city
differently,
while
at
the
same
time
improving
access
to
scarce
housing.
Galster
(2007a)
sees
the
social
mixing
promoted
in
post-war
housing
policies
as
underpinned
by
two
goals:
that
of
‘‘economic
efficiency’’
and
‘‘distributive
equity.’’
Across
Europe,
social
housing
estates
were
constructed
in
modernist
high-rise
form
on
the
urban
fringe
and
in
inner
cities
cleared
out
by
war
damage.
These
estates
were
supposed
to
cater
both
to
the
working
and
middle
classes
–
not
just
the
poor
as
in
the
US
and
in
the
former
colonial
powers,
for
the
new
migrants
arriving
from
the
edges
of
crumbling
Empire.
The
post-World
War
II
reconstruction
era
was
also
marked
by
the
increased
in-
migration
of
guestworkers
recruited
from
Turkey,
North
Africa
and
the
Caribbean.
Their
settlement
was
a
source
of
new
public
and
political
anxiety.
In
the
UK,
for
example
most
migrants
found
housing
in
the
discriminatory
private
rental
market
often
in
declining
inner-city
areas
(Wood
&
Landry,
2008,
p.
115)
that
were
close
to
industrial
work
opportunities.
Growing
racial
tensions
in
these
neighbourhoods
precipitated
state
actions
targeting
what
was
considered
the
root
problem:
‘‘too
many
‘coloured
colonials’
packed
into
too
little
space’’
(Smith,
1988,
p.
430).
Minority
racial
and
ethnic
concentration
was
discour-
aged
throughout
the
1960s
and
1970s
through
national
migration
controls
alongside
national
legislation
such
as
the
Race
Relations
Act
(Smith,
1988).
In
Germany,
the
employment
of
foreign
workers
from
the
Mediterranean
was
conceived
as
a
temporary
migration
of
single
individuals
that
could
be
housed
in
dormitories.
However,
when
migrants
did
not
leave,
and
settled
with
their
families,
neighbourhood
settlement
quotas
were
introduced
to
prevent
ghettoisation.
In
1975,
the
city
of
Berlin
attempted
to
curtail
Turkish
settlement
in
three
inner
city
neighbourhoods
–
Kreuzberg,
Tiergarten
and
Wedding
–
through
an
ordinance
prohibiting
further
Turkish
immigrant
set-
tlement
in
these
districts,
where
Turks
accounted
for
19,
14
and
10
percent
of
the
population,
respectively.
This
action
was
justified
on
the
grounds
that
Germany
needed
to
prevent
at
all
costs
the
dangers
and
problems
associated
with
ghettoisation
–
frequently
invoking
the
spectre
of
ghetto
riots
in
US
cities
of
the
late
1960s.
3
This
policy
was
not
very
successful,
as
Turkish
residents
found
ways
to
circumvent
it.
In
addition,
at
the
individual
level,
landlords
included
addenda
to
leases
that
specified
how
many
people
could
live
in
an
apartment/house
to
prevent
the
settling
of
large,
extended
Turkish
families
(Mandel,
2008,
p.
148).
Thus,
both
the
state
and
individual
landlords
worked
to
prevent
settlement
of
the
external
immigrant
Other
in
the
first
place.
It
is
worth
noting
that
it
was
US
scholarship
that
dominated
the
‘scientific’
study
of
intergroup
relations
in
the
immediate
postwar
period.
One
of
the
first
explanatory
theories
and
solutions
for
reducing
inter-
group
conflict
and
prejudice
came
from
American
psychologist
Gordon
Allport
(1954).
He
suggested
that
under
certain
conditions,
4
regular
interpersonal
contact
between
groups
has
the
potential
to
reduce
prejudice
and
improve
social
relations
between
in-groups
and
out-
groups,
majorities
and
minorities.
Prejudice
dissipates
through
contact
via
increased
knowledge
of
the
Other,
reduction
of
anxiety
of
the
Other
and
potential
for
increased
empathy
towards
the
Other,
first
at
the
individual
scale,
but
perhaps
also
across
the
whole
population
(Matejskova
&
Leitner,
2011,
p.
719).
R.
Fincher
et
al.
/
Progress
in
Planning
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(2014)
1–55
17
3
The
enforcement
of
this
ordinance
was
made
possible
because
foreign
residents
have
to
file
their
name
and
address
with
the
local
policy.
4
Equality
of
status;
a
shared
common
project
or
goal;
the
potential
to
become
friends
in
a
non-competitive
environment,
and
institutional
support
for
these
interactions.

While
Allport’s
contact
hypothesis
did
not
take
the
neighbourhood
scale
as
its
explicit
site
of
contact,
studies
deploying
the
contact
hypothesis
were
impor-
tant
in
the
Brown
vs.
Board
of
Education
case
that
led
to
the
formal
repeal
of
racial
segregation
in
US
schools
by
the
Supreme
Court
in
1954
(Putnam,
2007).
This
major
legislative
shift
began
to
re-shape
US
planning
and
housing
policies,
together
with
anxiety
over
social
unrest
in
black
‘ghettos,’
and
later
the
activism
of
the
Fair
Housing
Movement
of
the
1960s
(Goetz,
2003,
p.
85;
Sarkissian,
1976,
p.
240).
The
subject
of
interven-
tion
was
primarily
the
impoverished
African-American
minority
in
the
central
city.
The
Fair
Housing
movement
mobilized
federal
housing
resources
to
construct
new
dispersed
public
housing
for
the
racialized
poor
in
largely
white
neighbourhood
and
suburbs,
rather
than
in
central
city
public
housing
ghettos.
Goetz
(2003)
notes
that
these
‘‘first
generation
dispersal’’
attempts,
explicitly
about
racial
redistribution
and
anti-discrimi-
nation,
met
with
much
resistance
from
white
suburban
constituents
and
thus
only
limited
roll
out.
The
struggle
to
implement
this
scatter-site
public
housing
largely
played
out
in
court
until
it
was
halted
altogether
by
President
Reagan.
Since
the
late
1960s,
the
US
has
actively
promoted
de-concentration
away
from
public
housing
ghettos
into
the
private
housing
market,
through
structural
demolition
(e.g.
the
demolition
of
the
Pruitt-Igoe
Project
in
St.
Louis)
and/or
dispersal
of
internal
Others
as
well
as
refugees.
In
Canada,
planners
also
promoted
scatter-site
public
housing
largely
because
of
the
perceived
failure
of
large
social
housing
developments.
3.2.
Planning
for
social
mix
–
neoliberalism
During
the
1970s
and
1980s
we
see
a
general
lull
in
social
mix
planning
in
the
UK
and
the
US
under
roll-
back
neoliberalism
(Peck
&
Tickell,
2002).
In
contrast,
social
mix
planning
through
quotas
and
spatial
dispersal
continued
elsewhere.
For
example,
Singapore
intro-
duced
ethnic
quotas
on
all
public
housing.
In
the
‘‘multi-ethnic’’
city
state,
the
state
sought
to
‘‘repro-
duce,
as
closely
as
possible,
a
microcosm
of
Singapore’s
ethnic
mix
in
every
block,
every
neighbourhood,
every
electoral
constituency
and
every
New
Town’’
(Sin,
2003,
p.
530)
–
a
‘‘new
spatial
order’’
(Ooi,
1991
as
cited
in
Sin,
2003).
But
the
state
was
also
responding
to
rising
concerns
over
the
perceived
segregation
and
associated
political
threat
of
non-Chinese
ethnic
groups
under
the
previously
laissez-faire
apartment
allocation
system
(Sin,
2003).
As
such,
housing
transactions
since
1989
must
maintain
the
national
ethnic
balance
at
the
neighbourhood,
block
and
building
scale.
This
policy
was
represented
as
critical
for
‘‘the
long-term
stability
of
the
nation’’
(p.
531),
and
a
cohesive,
racially
harmonious
and
integrated
Singapore.
Since
the
1990s
–
in
the
roll-out
phase
of
neoliberalism
–
we
see
a
greater
diversification
of
social
mix
policies
from
the
tried-and-tested-quota
systems
and
household-based
spatial
dispersal,
to
neighbourhood
revitalization
through
housing
restruc-
turing
(tenure
diversification,
mixed-income
develop-
ment,
in
situ
upgrading),
infrastructure
and
public
space
improvements,
to
the
creation
of
programmes
and
spaces
that
facilitate
individual
encounter
at
the
inter-
personal
scale.
In
terms
of
governance,
mix
is
increasingly
driven
not
just
by
the
state,
but
by
new
public–private
partnerships.
The
renewed
and
intensi-
fied
interest
in
a
diverse
set
of
social
mix
policies
has
also
to
be
seen
within
the
context
of
a
renewed
political
urgency
around
immigration
and
segregation
–
for
example,
the
1992
LA
riots;
physical
violence
against
immigrants
and
refugees
in
German
cities;
the
2001
riots
in
small
UK
cities
such
as
Bradford
–
as
well
as
the
rise
of
new
theoretical
concepts
circulating
within
the
academy,
and
policy
and
planning
circles.
The
most
influential
of
these
new
theoretical
concepts
include
the
Neighbourhood
Effects
and
Social
Capital
theses.
Building
on
older
conceptual
arguments
(such
as
spatial
assimilation,
the
contact
hypothesis
and
notions
of
the
spatially
trapped
‘underclass’),
these
theories/theses
similarly
stress
the
efficacy
of
social
mix
for
social
inclusion,
social
mobility,
poverty
reduction,
social
cohesion,
urban
revitalization,
but
with
a
renewed
emphasis
on
the
local
social
and
physical
environment
in
creating
a
certain
citizen
and
community.
It
is
at
this
scale
that
urban
planners
are
uniquely
qualified
to
intervene
in
and
shape
outcomes.
Scholarship
on
Neighbourhood
Effects
argues
that
the
neighbourhood
has
‘‘an
independent
residential
and
social
environment
effect’’
on
education
(grades
and
dropout
rates),
levels
of
social
deviance
and
social
exclusion,
health
outcomes,
welfare
uptake,
work
opportunities
and
employment,
and
social
mobility
(van
Ham,
Manley,
Bailey,
Simpson,
&
Maclennan,
2011,
p.
1).
These
effects
are
thought
to
operate
through
a
number
of
mechanisms:
‘‘peer
groups;
concentrated
poverty
and
adult
role-models;
and,
physical
infra-
structure
and
institutional
networks’’
(Bauder,
2002,
p.
86).
Deprived
neighbourhoods
are
seen
as
lacking
on
these
various
counts:
residents
are
isolated
from
socio-
economic
opportunities
and
the
spatial
concentration
of
poverty
is
high;
there
is
an
absence
of
positive
role
models,
resulting
in
deviant
behavioural
norms
and
R.
Fincher
et
al.
/
Progress
in
Planning
92
(2014)
1–5518

work
ethics;
physical
infrastructure
is
in
decline,
and
levels
of
social
organization
and
control
are
low
(Musterd
&
Pinkster,
2009).
Living
in
such
a
neighbourhood
‘‘has
a
negative
effect
on
residents’
life
chances
over
and
above
the
effect
of
their
individual
characteristics’’
(van
Ham
et
al.,
2011,
p.
1).
Neighbourhood
effects
thinking
purports
that
disad-
vantaged
and
disorderly
neighbourhoods
produce
disadvantaged
and
disorderly
citizens,
with
little
scope
for
social
mobility,
potentially
posing
threats
to
wider
‘‘moral
order
or
social
cohesion’’
(Forrest
&
Kearns,
2001,
p.
2133).
Thus,
social
mix
planning
informed
by
neighbourhood
effects
thinking
continues
to
be
pre-
dominantly
concerned
with
neighbourhoods
of
con-
centrated
poverty,
ethnic
Others
or
social
housing
rather
than
the
highly
segregated
and
gated
communities
of
elites
(Musterd
&
Andersson,
2005).
Social
capital
as
‘‘a
resource
for
individual
action’’
(Briggs,
1998,
p.
178)
is
argued
to
come
from
interactions
with
others
(ties
and
networks);
the
subsequent
accumulation
of
obligations;
strong
norms
of
reciprocity;
group
identification
and
solidarity;
and
trust
that
is
rewarded
and
sanctioned
(Briggs,
1998;
Portes,
1998).
Social
networks
allow
people
to
increase
their
social
capital
through
two
kinds
of
interactions:
‘bonding
ties’
within
groups
that
are
useful
for
in-
group
cohesion
and
everyday
support;
and
‘bridging
ties’
between
and
across
groups,
and
are
more
useful
for
economic
opportunities,
and
broader
societal
consensus
(Putnam,
1993).
Segregation
and
concen-
trated
poverty
are
obstacles
to
the
accumulation
of
bridging
social
capital
(Briggs,
2005):
while
residents
in
such
areas
demonstrate
strong
local
ties,
they
have
few
ties
beyond
the
neighbourhood
and
beyond
the
social
group.
They
are
‘‘so cial ly
isolated’’
from
job
networks
and
appropriate
role
models
(Briggs,
1998,
p.
187)
and
residing
in
stigmatized,
marginal
neighbour-
hoods
even
produces
negative
social
capital
(for
details
see
Wac quan t,
1998).
Neighbourhood
decline
itself
can
also
lead
to
‘‘a
cumulative
decline
in
social
capital’’,
weakening
networks,
trust
and
civic
engage-
ment
through
high
population
turnover
(Forrest
&
Kearns,
2001,
p.
2139).
Neighbourhood-based
plan-
ning
and
housing
policy
are
seen
as
crucial
in
rectifying
this.
Drawing
on
these
concepts
recent
programmes
emphasize
the
importance
of
the
‘right’
social
mix
of
households
that
will
increase
stocks
of
social
capital
and
trust,
and
hence
social
mobility;
reduce
conflict
and
increase
social
order,
social
cohesion
and
the
value
of
the
neighbourhood
These
goals
are
not
necessarily
packaged
together,
and
are
weighted
differently
in
different
contexts
(and
by
different
authors).
Thus,
as
we
will
show
below,
the
specifics
of
new
social
mix
planning
vary
across
countries
and
cities
depending
on
differences
in
planning
cultures,
the
role
of
the
state
and
market
in
housing
and
neighbourhood
development,
and
commitment
to
multicultural
policies.
In
Dutch
cities,
decreased
investments
in
social
housing
and
an
increased
emphasis
on
immigrant
assimilation
have
occurred
in
tandem
with
large
scale
targeted
housing/neighbourhood
restructuring
through
public–private
partnerships
since
the
1990s
(Fainstein,
2010).
5
170
neighbourhoods
were
marked
for
restruc-
turing,
which
meant
diversifying
new
and
old
housing
stock
primarily
within
post-war
housing
estates
through
a
combination
of
demolition,
upgrading,
selling
off
social
housing
units,
and
infill
construction
of
new
mixed
housing
types
(Galster,
2007b;
Uiter-
mark,
2003).
These
measures
aimed
at
reducing
outmigration
from
the
neighbourhoods,
and
attracting
middle
class
people
into
the
area
through
new
upscale
housing
options
in
order
to
foster
social
cohesion
and
social
capital
within
the
neighbourhood
(Burgers,
2009;
van
Kempen
&
Gideon,
2009).
In
the
Bijlmeer
neighbourhood
in
Amsterdam,
restructuring
was
premised
on
the
demolition
and
replacement
of
a
quarter
of
the
housing
stock,
selling
off
another
quarter,
and
upgrading
the
remaining
half
6
(Bodaar,
2006;
Fainstein,
2010).
New
owner-occupied
low-rise
units
were
to
be
built
in
which
original
residents
would
have
first
preference.
New
mixed-use
design
would
include
space
for
businesses
near
residences,
alongside
investment
in
new
public
infrastructure,
interventions
around
safety,
job
creation,
education,
multicultural
celebration,
etc.
In
the
US
urban
context
of
high
segregation
of
poor
racial
minorities,
social
mix
policies
have
been
reinvigorated
with
the
explicit
goal
of
de-concentrating
poverty
and
building
social
capital
in
ghettos
(Goetz,
2003,
2010).
Since
the
late
1990s,
some
public
housing
and
the
neighbourhoods
around
them
have
been
part
of
two
experimental
initiatives:
one,
tenant-based
housing
voucher
programmes,
the
most
well-known
being
the
Moving
to
Opportunity
Programme
in
which
house-
holds
from
historically
low-income,
racialized
public
R.
Fincher
et
al.
/
Progress
in
Planning
92
(2014)
1–55
19
5
Note
that
other
countries
with
historically
substantial
public
intervention
in
housing
markets
like
Australia
(Arthurson,
2002),
Sweden,
France
and
the
UK
have
also
engaged
in
housing
restructur-
ing
(Galster,
2007b)
to
differing
degrees.
6
The
latter
was
largely
due
to
resident
mobilization.

housing
blocks
volunteer
to
move
to
low
poverty
and
high
opportunity
neighbourhoods
(Briggs,
Popkin,
&
Goering,
2010).
7
The
other
programme
involves
the
demolition
of
public
housing
and
its
replacement
with
mixed-income,
mixed-use
development
–
the
best
known
being
the
HOPE
VI
programme
(Housing
Opportunities
for
People
Everywhere),
in
which
a
certain
percentage
of
the
new
housing
is
reserved
for
lower-income
families
(Goetz,
2010),
and
New
Urban-
ism
design
principles
are
engaged
to
attract
higher
income
groups
to
revive
these
neighbourhoods.
While
these
seem
to
present
opposite
forms
of
mix
–
one
‘‘mixing
low-income
people
into
wealthier
neighbour-
hoods’’,
the
other
‘‘attract[ing]
higher-income
groups
into
more
disadvantaged
communities’’
(Goetz,
2003,
p.
55)
–
both
initiatives
share
a
similar
logic
and
belief
that
‘‘communities
simply
are
not
viable
without
a
cadre
of
employed
residents
to
sustain
businesses,
provide
role
models,
and
increase
social
capital’’
and
that
the
stigma
of
subsidized
housing
will
be
reduced
through
mixing
(Goetz,
2003,
p.
59).
While
the
focus
is
on
poverty
reduction,
it
is
important
to
note
that
poverty
is
highly
racialized.
In
German
cities
social
mix
planning
through
housing
mechanisms
has
been
supplemented
with
a
diversity
of
supportive
physical,
social,
and
economic
development
strategies.
Germany’s
Socially
Integrative
Cities
programme
is
a
good
example
of
this,
targeting
both
the
renewal
of
the
state’s
large
housing
stock
(which
is
already
quite
mixed
in
terms
of
tenure)
and
the
development
of
public
infrastructure
such
as
commu-
nity
centres
that
can
promote
encounters
with
difference
(Dick,
2011;
Matejskova
&
Leitner,
2011;
see
also
Section
5
of
this
paper).
Community
development
programmes
have
been
introduced
to
mitigate
the
threat
of
‘parallel
societies’
next-door
to
one
another,
and
build
conviviality
and
social
capital
via
‘‘neighbour-
hood
get-togethers,
park
improvement
projects’’,
and
social
interventions
connecting
youth
and
local
eco-
nomic
development
(Dick,
2011).
In
Stuttgart,
the
City
Council
made
a
‘‘Pact
of
Integration’’
in
2001
to
foster
immigrant
inclusion
through
education,
language,
economic
growth,
equal
rights,
democratic
forums,
multilingual
resources
and
cultural
investments
(Wood
&
Landry,
2008).
In
the
UK
under
New
Labour,
we
have
seen
a
multitude
of
socio-spatial
interventions
at
the
neigh-
bourhood
scale
to
produce
cohesive
places
across
ethnicity
and
decrease
economic
exclusion.
Since
the
Bradford
riots
of
2001,
areas
of
poverty
concentration
and
ethnic
clustering
have
been
prime
sites
of
policy
intervention.
8
The
local
advancement
of
‘‘mixed
communities’’
(i.e.
not
ethnically
or
class-concentrated
ones)
has
been
offered
as
a
solution
to
combating
inequality
and
marginalization,
increasing
social
inclu-
sion,
and
as
a
stimulus
for
economic
development,
cultural
vitality
and
innovation
(Imrie,
Lees,
&
Raco,
2009;
Lupton
&
Fuller,
2009).
The
main
mechanisms
for
achieving
this
include
public–private
regeneration
of
public
housing
estates,
facilitating
better
minority
access
to
social
housing
in
non-concentrated
areas,
new
mixed-tenure
housing
developments,
and
neighbour-
hood
renewal
more
generally
(Lees,
2008;
Watt,
2009;
Wood
&
Landry,
2008).
The
regeneration
of
public
housing
estates,
which
has
in
part
been
funded
by
selling
off
social
housing
units
to
private
buyers,
shares
some
similarities
with
programmes
in
the
Netherlands
and
Australia.
In
the
UK,
recent
refinements
of
the
New
Labour
cohesion
agenda
have
seen
the
promotion
of
an
increasingly
communitarian
vision
–
focusing
on
‘‘what
we
have
in
common
rather
than
obsessing
with
those
things
that
make
us
different’’
(cited
in
Robinson,
2008,
p.
21–22)
and
promoting
active
citizen
participation.
Despite
differences
across
country
and
city
contexts,
there
are
common
elements
in
contemporary
social
mix
planning.
Across
Northern
cities,
social
mix
pro-
grammes,
driven
by
public–private
partnerships,
seek
to
attract
(or
maintain)
the
middle
classes
and
their
social
capital
and
‘mainstream’
their
values
into
the
disadvan-
taged
neighbourhoods
through
some
combination
of
public
housing
privatization
and
demolition,
upgrading
and
new
mixed-income
development
which
diversifies
the
housing
stock
to
prioritize
home
ownership.
At
the
same
time,
disadvantaged,
socially
isolated
public
housing
residents
are
dispersed
into
private
rental
stock
in
low
poverty,
often
majority
white
areas
with
better
schooling
and
job
opportunities.
Neighbourhood
and
community
become
the
major
organizing
principles,
increasingly
focusing
on
regenerating
existing
poor
and/
or
ethnic
neighbourhoods.
Contemporary
social
mix
planning
relies
on
new
discourses
of
poverty
de-
concentration
and
community
cohesion
that
mask
differences
along
class,
ethnic
and
racial
lines.
Of
course,
scholars
and
many
policy
makers
recognize
these
differences
and
their
intersectionality,
but
it
is
interesting
to
see
how
the
subjects
of
intervention
are
named
or
not
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et
al.
/
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in
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92
(2014)
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7
This
was
inspired
by
Chicago’s
massive
Gautreaux
program
from
1974
to
1998
(Goetz
&
Chapple,
2010).
8
Racialized
clusters
themselves
produced
by
past
multicultural
and
housing
policies.

named
in
contemporary
social
mix
regimes.
Another
distinct
characteristic
of
the
socio-spatial
interventions
at
the
neighbourhood
scale
has
been
their
participatory
and
communitarian
vision
of
sustainable
social
change.
Citizen
participation
is
promoted
as
an
alternative
to
top-down
planning
and
the
construction
of
social
capital,
civic
culture
and
community
at
the
same
time
(Ratcliffe,
2011).
3.3.
Interrogating
social
mixing
–
policies
and
concepts
How
have
scholars
assessed
recent
programmes
and
policies?
9
Some
say
it
is
too
soon
to
adjudicate,
and
the
case-by-case
evaluation
studies
are
too
scattered
to
draw
any
general
conclusions.
Quantitative
measures
indicate
there
has
been
relative
success
in
terms
of
increasing
the
tenure
mix
in
programme
areas
(Arthurson,
2010b,
p.
228)
and/or
changing
the
social
composition
of
the
population
(Burgers,
2009,
145).
10
However,
the
stated
qualitative
goals
of
social
mix
planning
to
promote
social
inclusion
of
racialized
minorities
and
low
income
immigrants
and
decrease
concentrated
poverty
are
more
difficult
to
trace
(Joseph,
Chaskin,
&
Webber,
2007).
By
and
large
though,
empirical
assessments
from
Australia
to
the
Nether-
lands,
UK
to
the
US
thus
far
generally
show
that
social
mix
projects
tend
to
be
disappointing
in
reaching
their
stated
aims
of
either
socio-economic
mobility
or
improved
social
relations
–
at
best
they
are
found
to
be
ambiguous
and
at
worst
downright
harmful
(Bolt,
Phillips,
&
van
Kempen,
2010;
Cheshire,
2007).
On
the
positive
side,
surveys
11
point
to
an
improved
quality
of
environment
and
housing
stock
for
residents
(Bolt
&
van
Kempen,
2011;
Burgers,
2009;
Goetz,
2003)
and
perceptions
of
improved
safety
(Goetz,
2010;
Joseph
et
al.,
2007),
particularly
for
women
(Briggs
et
al.,
2010).
Access
to
better
schools
and
services
are
reported
in
some
cases
(Bolt
&
van
Kempen,
2011;
Goetz,
2003),
and
sometimes
improved
neighbourhood
reputation
(Arthurson,
2010b).
In
the
US
for
example,
the
effects
of
mixed-income
development
through
HOPE
VI
projects
on
the
built
environment
have
been
dramatic,
transforming
dilapidated
public
housing
sites
into
attractive
mixed-income
neighbourhoods
of
low-
rise
housing
in
neotraditional
style
(Goetz,
2003).
Yet
who
this
transformed
landscape
benefits
and
how
far
it
has
achieved
its
economic
and
social
goals
for
households
is
less
clear.
Assessments
of
US
dispersal
programmes
such
as
HOPE
VI
provide
no
evidence
of
households’
increased
access
to
employment
or
economic
independence
after
dispersal,
often
to
nearby
equally
marginal
neighbourhoods
(Goetz,
2010,
p.
150).
Voluntary
dispersal
programmes
for
low-income
central
city
residents
to
the
suburbs
have
facilitated
increased
proximity
to
job
opportunities,
but
because
of
racial
discrimination
in
the
labour
market,
lack
of
good
public
transportation
and
kin-based
childcare,
economic
benefits
often
could
not
be
realized
(Goetz,
2003,
p.
80).
Dispersal
of
immigrants
and
refugees
to
small
towns
has
resulted
in
a
spatial
mismatch
between
residential
location
and
job
opportunities
and
services
(Hynes,
2011).
Neighbourhood
restructuring
and
dis-
persal
often
destroy
existing
social
networks
and
the
bonding
social
capital
that
is
critical
to
poor
and
migrant
communities
in
their
everyday
lives
(Lees,
2008;
Lehman-Frisch,
2011).
Furthermore,
the
reduction
in
the
availability
of
affordable
housing
has
jeopardized
the
social
mobility
of
poor
residents,
who
are
being
priced
out
of
the
regenerated
areas
and
displaced
to
other
poor
neighbourhoods
(Bolt
et
al.,
2010;
Goetz,
2003;
Lees,
2008;
Rose,
2004).
In
contrast,
for
the
middle
classes,
social
mix
programmes
have
been
successful
in
consolidating
their
social
mobility
through
increased
access
to
homeownership,
as
in
the
case
of
Amsterdam’s
Bijlermeer
and
the
Surinamese
middle
class
(Aalbers,
2011).
The
economic
impacts
of
social
mix
planning
at
the
neighbourhood
scale
have
also
been
ambiguous.
The
few
existing
studies
of
mixed-income
development
in
the
US
(HOPE
VI)
demonstrate
either
little
private
investment
in
the
neighbourhood
after
de-concentration
(usually
through
demolition)
and
further
marginaliza-
tion
of
the
area
once
the
most
successful
households
are
‘‘creamed
off’’
through
selective
mobility
programmes.
There
has
also
been
rampant
neighbourhood
gentrifica-
tion,
as
in
Chicago
(Goetz,
2003,
p.
69–70,
242).
These
processes
have
been
racialized
(Patillo,
2009).
In
the
UK,
black
and
ethnic
minority
neighbourhoods
have
been
disproportionately
affected
(Phillips
&
Harrison,
2010,
p.
299).
However,
neighbourhood
gentrification
is
not
necessarily
considered
a
failure
of
social
mix
planning.
For
example,
HOPE
VI’s
success
was
never
R.
Fincher
et
al.
/
Progress
in
Planning
92
(2014)
1–55
21
9
To
note,
this
section
relies
on
both
primary
assessments
of
selected
policies
as
well
as
review
papers
summarizing
findings
of
different
policies.
There
are
of
course
limitations
in
drawing
on
review
papers
(Bond
et
al.,
2011).
10
For
example,
the
number
of
higher-income
households
in
restruc-
tured
neighbourhoods
in
the
Netherlands
has
increased
(Bolt
&
van
Kempen,
2011).
11
Surveys
of
beneficiaries
have
been
the
most
common
method
of
evaluation,
Goetz
notes,
and
often
without
a
control
group
for
refer-
ence,
making
causal
arguments
difficult
(2003,
75–76).

premised
only
on
the
upward
mobility
of
original
residents,
but
aimed
to
revitalize
previously
under-
valued
areas
through
attracting
middle-class
residents
and
thus
increasing
the
tax
base
and
reducing
the
demand
for
services.
But
getting
the
right
balance
of
neighbourhood
investment
without
gentrification
(Patillo,
2009)
is
a
tightrope
that
planners
in
general
are
struggling
to
manage
(Rose
et
al.,
2012,
see
also
Section
4
of
this
paper).
Alongside
economic
goals,
what
has
been
the
record
of
social
mix
planning
in
relation
to
interactions
and
improved
social
relations
between
social
groups?
Contrary
to
the
presumption
that
social
mix
policies
will
increase
interactions
between
social
groups,
most
local
studies
of
newly
restructured
neighbourhoods,
housing
estates,
and
dispersed
households,
find
little
increased
interaction
between
different
groups
(in
Australia
see
Arthurson,
2002,
2010a;
in
the
US
see
Joseph
&
Chaskin,
2010;
Goetz,
2003,
p.
81–82;
in
the
Netherlands
see
Bolt
&
van
Kempen,
2011).
Even
if
inter-group
contact
occurs,
Matejskova
and
Leitner
(2011)
found
that
more
intergroup
contact
in
high-rise
suburban
housing
estates
between
local
German
residents
and
Russian
speaking,
ethnic
German
re-
settlers,
may
reinforce,
rather
than
reduce
prejudice
(Valentine,
2010).
Tenure
mix
especially
does
not
always
create
social
interaction
(Bolt
et
al.,
2010,
p.
132;
Bond,
Sautkina,
&
Kearns,
2011)
–
it
can
even
reduce
interactions.
In
the
UK
and
Singapore,
scholars
point
to
already
existing
interactions
between
different
groups
that
are
not
the
product
of
social
mix
programmes,
and
in
fact
have
happened
despite
them
(Finney
&
Simpson,
2009;
Sin,
2003).
Furthermore,
much
of
the
burden
of
interaction
is
placed
on
the
poor
and
ethnicised
Other.
In
the
UK,
social
mix
choice-
based
letting
schemes
rely
far
more
on
ethnic
and
racial
minority
relocation
to
white
areas
than
vice
versa,
and
minority
assimilation
therein
(Phillips
&
Harrison,
2010).
The
scale
of
mix
also
matters
for
social
interaction
–
interactions
across
tenure
are
even
less
likely
if
rental
housing
is
clustered
in
one
part
of
the
area,
and
owned
houses
in
another
(Arthurson,
2010b).
A
number
of
scholars,
however,
argue
that
it
may
be
too
soon
to
measure
the
effects
of
tenure
mix
on
social
relations
(Bolt
&
van
Kempen,
2011;
Goetz,
2010).
Other
non-housing-based
strategies
have
also
had
ambiguous
outcomes
on
social
relations.
In
Germany,
local,
community-based
immigrant
integration
did
little
to
improve
immigrant-host
society
relations
(Matejs-
kova
&
Leitner,
2011;
see
also
Section
5
of
this
paper).
Besides
critiques
of
the
impacts
of
social
mix
policies
on
the
economic
and
social
achievements
of
the
poor
and
minorities,
some
scholars
have
also
taken
the
planning
process
to
task,
finding
little
evidence
of
participation
by
the
urban
poor
in
the
dispersal
or
renewal
process
(Duke,
2009).
However,
residents’
participation
in
the
process
varies
across
countries.
For
example,
in
the
UK,
New
Labour
explicitly
tried
to
promote
community
participa-
tion
in
planning
neighbourhood
change
(Wallace,
2010),
while
in
the
Netherlands,
in
the
Bijlmeer,
it
was
the
collective
pressure
of
the
residents
that
brought
about
increased
participation
(Bodaar,
2006).
Starting
in
1996,
Bijlmeer’s
Surinamese
(and
particularly
middle
class)
residents
fought
for
more
black
involvement
in
renewal,
radically
changing
the
process
of
renewal
after
2000
to
a
much
less
top-down
decision
making
process
that
constructed
more
social
housing
units
than
were
demolished,
with
far
less
dispersal
and
displacement
of
original
residents
(Fainstein,
2010).
This
mobilization
was
the
start
of
a
broader
rise
in
immigrant
political
power
in
the
area
–
an
unexpected
outcome
for
social
mix
planning.
Along
with
empirical
evaluations
of
how
pro-
grammes
and
policies
have
fared
in
relation
to
their
stated
aims,
scholars
have
voiced
some
incisive
critiques
of
the
concepts,
claims
and
the
assumptions
underlying
social
mix
in
its
various
forms.
Critical
scholars
argue
that
deployments
of
‘community’
as
development
‘partner’
can
facilitate
new
projects
of
governmentality,
12
as
can
social
mix
planning
in
general.
For
example,
Sin
(2003)
argues
that
Singa-
pore’s
ethnic
quotas
are
deployed
more
for
the
surveillance
and
close
‘‘management
of
society’’
by
‘‘technocratic’’
means
than
the
promotion
of
social
cohesion
and
coexistence.
Based
on
analysis
of
policy
documents,
Uitermark
(2003)
argues
that
social
mix
planning
in
the
Netherlands
has
not
been
primarily
about
facilitating
immigrant
integration
or
poverty
alleviation
(for
example
Musterd
&
Andersson,
2005).
Rather
–
the
management
of
disadvantaged
neighbour-
hoods
through
social
mixing
policies
has
been
part
of
a
wider
–
urban
focused
–
neoliberal
growth
strategy.
Similarly,
Lees
(2008)
suggests
that
social
mix
planning
is
simply
gentrification
by
another
name
–
a
class
project
that
is
claimed
to
have
beneficial
economic
ramifications
across
the
board.
The
shortcomings
of
social
mix
to
‘fix’
problems
associated
with
segregation
can
in
part
be
located
in
the
R.
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et
al.
/
Progress
in
Planning
92
(2014)
1–5522
12
Here,
governance
is
understood
in
a
broad
sense,
as
a
kind
of
activity
in
which
various
actors
(not
just
governments)
seek
to
produce
behaviours
and
spaces
that
conform
to
their
vision
of
the
‘good
city’
(Rose,
2000).

underlying
assumption
that
the
segregation
of
the
poor
and
ethnic
minorities
from
mainstream
society
has
deleterious
effects.
However,
a
number
of
scholars
contest
this
base
premise,
especially
in
Europe
and
Canada.
Not
all
racial
or
ethnic
segregation/concentra-
tion
is
associated
with
ghettoisation
and
negative
effects
for
the
‘host’
and
the
‘guest’
population
(Marcuse,
2005;
Peach,
1996,
2009).
Some
scholars
have
demonstrated
the
positive
effects
of
ethnic
clustering
on
migrants
or
persecuted
minorities
away
from
a
potentially
hostile
host
population,
building
appropriate
services
and
strong
enclave
economies
(Lehman-Frisch,
2011;
Qadeer,
2005;
Smith
&
Ley,
2008).
Other
scholars
have
questioned
dominant
public
discourses
claiming
that
immigrants
self-segregate
and
choose
to
lead
parallel
lives.
Scholarship
in
the
UK
has
shown
that
segregation
is
NOT
on
the
increase,
NOR
a
product
of
immigrants’
choosing.
Many
immigrants
want
to
live
in
mixed
neighbourhoods
but
their
residential
decisions
are
limited
by
discrimination
in
the
housing
and
labour
markets
(Finney
&
Simpson,
2009;
Phillips
&
Harrison,
2010;
Phillips,
Simpson,
&
Ahmed,
2008).
Scholars
have
also
pointed
to
the
limitations
of
the
Neighbourhood
Effects
Thesis
as
a
basis
for
designing
social
mix
policies.
This
thesis
steers
programmes
towards
treating
symptoms
instead
of
causes
of
poverty
and
segregation
(cf.
Andersson,
Bra
˚ma
˚,
&
Holmqvist,
2010;
Ostendorf,
Musterd,
&
De
Vos,
2001).
13
While
the
focus
on
geographically
bounded
neighbourhoods
is
appealing
to
policy
makers,
isolating
neighbourhood
effects
from
other
intervening
variables
is
difficult
(Martin,
2003).
Furthermore,
the
emphasis
on
neigh-
bourhood
effects
reinscribes
representations
of
dys-
functional
individuals
produced
by
pathological
neighbourhoods
in
ways
that
mirror
earlier
culture
of
poverty
and
underclass
arguments
(Bauder,
2002).
A
focus
on
the
neighbourhood
as
site
of
intervention
reifies
and
bounds
the
neighbourhood
in
Cartesian
space,
rather
than
approaching
neighbourhood
space
as
produced
by
and
producing
a
diverse
set
of
socio-spatial
relations
(Forrest
&
Kearns,
2001).
Privileging
the
neighbourhood
fails
to
capture
the
realities
of
lives
lived
across
many
spaces.
Australian
scholar
Arthurson
(2010a,
p.
61)
critiques
social
mix’s
assumption
that
‘‘propinquity
facilitates
social
interaction
between
residents
across
income
levels
and
housing
tenures’’
with
benefits
to
the
poor,
as
out-dated
and
simplistic.
People
do
not
simply
inhabit,
interact
and
build
networks
in
neighbourhood
spaces,
but
much
of
the
interactions
among
different
groups
occur
at
other
sites,
such
as
schools,
workplaces,
recreation
facilities
and
places
of
worship.
Matejskova
and
Leitner
(2011)
have
shown
that
regular
and
sustained
contacts
and
interac-
tions
with
difference
in
particular
in
the
workplace
are
more
conducive
for
the
establishment
of
cross-cultural
relations
and
sensibilities
than
interactions
in
neigh-
bourhood
spaces
(cf.
Amin,
2006;
Ellis,
Wright,
&
Parks,
2004).
Community
centres
that
offer
language
training
and
other
programmes
for
immigrants
living
nearby
have
the
potential
to
promote
cross-cultural
contacts,
but
their
success
depends
on
engaging
a
cross-
section
of
neighbourhood
residents
in
decisions
about
the
activities
and
priorities
(Sandercock
&
Attilli,
2009).
Studies
also
alert
us
that
contact
and
proximity
will
reduce
Othering
and
promote
inter-group
relations
only
under
certain
preconditions
(Allport,
1954)
including:
equality
of
status,
a
shared
common
project
or
goal,
the
potential
to
become
friends
in
a
non-competitive
environment,
and
institutional
support
for
these
inter-
actions.
Unfortunately,
social
mix
planning
has
not
adequately
grappled
with
the
absence
of
these
preconditions
in
the
everyday.
Indeed
‘‘real
life
contact
between
members
of
different
social
groups
is
always
structurally
mediated
and
embedded
in
particular
historical
and
geographical
contexts
of
power
relations
between
and
within
social
groups’’
(Matejskova
&
Leitner,
2011,
p.
721).
Finally,
based
on
empirical
evidence,
scholars
have
questioned
the
assumption
that
social
mixing
at
the
neighbourhood
scale
will
lead
to
the
accumulation
of
social
capital,
especially
bridging
ties
which
are
supposed
to
be
beneficial
for
social
mobility.
Studies
have
shown
that
dispersal
of
poor
minorities,
for
example,
disrupts
communities
and
destroys
existing
networks
without
concomitant
development
of
new
bridging
ties
(Bolt
et
al.,
2010).
Further,
evidence
of
weak
employment
post
relocation
and/or
housing
restructuring
suggests
that
social
mobility
is
dependent
on
a
range
of
factors
beyond
simply
the
types
of
interaction
and
neighbourhood
one
lives
in.
3.4.
Should
social
mix
planning
be
abandoned?
Over
the
last
half
century
social
mix
planning
at
the
neighbourhood
scale
has
come
to
be
seen
as
the
dominant
solution
to
managing
the
undesirable
segre-
gation
of
internal
and
external
Others
in
diverse
cities.
As
we
have
shown,
social
mix
planning
encompasses
a
wide
repertoire
of
strategies.
These
have
been
taken
up
R.
Fincher
et
al.
/
Progress
in
Planning
92
(2014)
1–55
23
13
For
example,
structural
obstacles
such
as
a
lack
of
education
and
labour
market
access
and
racial
discrimination.

in
varied
ways
at
different
times
and
in
different
places,
influenced
by
dominant
social
theoretical
concepts
and
prevailing
political
ideologies.
Cutting
across
this
temporal
and
spatial
variance,
however,
is
the
premise
that
for
poor
people
and
ethnic
minorities
living
in
proximity
with
the
affluent
and
the
majority
is
beneficial
for
managing
urban
diversity
in
all
of
its
forms.
Indeed,
presumptions
about
the
efficacy
of
different
social
groups
living
in
propinquity
with
one
another
are
at
the
core
of
both
social
mixing
policies
and
the
social
theoretical
concepts
informing
these.
Many
scholars
reviewed
here
agree
that
social
mixing
policies
have
failed
to
live
up
to
their
claims
to
address
both
social
inequalities
and
discrimination
of
internal
and
external
Others
in
diverse
cities.
Does
this
mean
that
social
mix
planning
and
policies
should
simply
be
abandoned?
There
are
different
answers
to
this
question
that
range
from
reformist
approaches
to
an
outright
dismissal
of
social
mix
planning.
Burgers
(2009)
in
the
Netherlands
and
Goetz
(2003,
2010)
in
the
US
do
not
want
to
give
up
neighbourhood-based
social
mix
planning
in
favour
of
only
individual-centred
policies.
However,
they
propose
a
broader
definition
of
poverty
and
its
causes
that
informs
a
more
multi-
pronged
approach
that
is
not
limited
to
housing
or
the
individual
(Goetz,
2003,
p.
255).
Others
suggest
that
housing-based
policies
seem
best
approached
through
in
situ
upgrading
for
existing
residents,
and
creation
of
new
affordable
rental
stock,
rather
than
demolition,
dispersal
and
privatization
–
this
is
a
route
that
better
protects
the
housing
rights
of
existing
and
diverse
communities
(Arthurson,
2002;
Goetz,
2010;
Phillips
&
Harrison,
2010).
Furthermore,
we
emphasize
with
others
that
social
mixing
occurs
at
different
sites
and
that
the
site
of
the
residence
is
perhaps
not
the
most
important
one.
As
discussed
above,
more
attention
needs
to
be
paid
in
particular
to
the
site
of
the
workplace,
as
a
space
where
not
only
social
capital
is
accumulated
but
also
important
negotiations
across
difference
occur.
We
also
query
the
lack
of
concern
with
segregation
of
white/rich
residential
spaces.
The
normalization
of
these
spaces
exempts
them
from
demands
for
social
mixing,
in
turn
putting
the
onus
of
integration
on
the
poor
and
racialized
minorities.
Finally,
the
examples
discussed
here
have
demon-
strated
the
limitations
of
planning
that
enforces
social
mix
from
the
top
down.
Instead
of
planner
and
design-centric
approaches
to
promote
social
mixing
and
immigrant
integration,
we
need
to
look
at
both
how
local
residents
and
social
movements
are
already
imagining
and
constructing
neighbourhood
and
community
spaces
of
coexistence.
Tak e
the
example
of
the
Minneapolis
North-Side
public
housing
removal,
a
top-down
planning
initiative
designed
to
de-
concentrate
poverty.
Rather
than
simply
welcoming
the
removal
of
their
homes,
residents
resisted
on
the
grounds
that
this
would
tear
apart
strong
social
networks
and
community
structure
amongst
certain
immigrant
groups
–
especially
the
Hmong
residents
–
residing
in
the
neighbourhood
(Goetz,
2003).
This
example
demonstrates
that
the
building
of
communities
across
social
and
racial
inequality
needs
to
recognize
difference,
and
not
simply
presume
that
the
state
or
the
planner
knows
what
is
best
for
a
particular
community.
This
requires
moving
beyond
the
usual
repertoire
of
social
mixing
strategies,
offering
an
alternative
that
emphasizes
process
over
design,
couched
in
demands
for
social
and
spatial
justice
and
recognition
of
cultural
difference,
instead
of
simply
ameliorating
the
negative
effects
of
concentrated
poverty
and
ethnic
segregation,
or
capitalizing
on
diversity.
This
is
not
to
reify
or
romanticize
community-based
bottom-up
strategies
that
promote
neighbourhood
spaces
for
living
with
differ-
ence.
Instead
we
argue
for
greater
attention
to
the
existing
variety
of
community-based
bottom-up
strate-
gies.
Some
community-based
strategies
may
engage
with
official
planning
processes
around
social
mix,
while
others
may
deploy
an
oppositional
mode
that
rejects
official
planning
processes
and
dominant
models
for
living
with
difference.
Further,
alternative
imagin-
aries
are
not
simply
promoted
and
enacted
by
social
movements,
but
may
also
be
found
in
more
mundane
everyday
relationship-building
between
neighbours
(Datta,
2012)
or
in
an
‘‘anticipatory
urban
politics’’
(Simone,
2010).
4.
Commodification:
making
places
commercial
This
section
considers
the
commodification
of
racial
or
ethnic
diversity
in
cities,
and
the
part
played
by
planning
in
it.
The
ideas
and
practices
of
the
entrepreneurial
city
(Harvey,
1989)
or
the
neoliberal
city
(Sager,
2011)
have
set
the
scene
for
certain
modes
of
governance
involving
alliances
between
businesses
and
government,
and
sometimes
community
organiza-
tions.
Global
inter-urban
competition
in
which
place-
marketing
and
growth
policies
focus
on
expanded
consumption
are
common
and
influence
or
involve
planning.
These
strategies
are
helped
along
by
ubiquitous
conferences
and
events
(including
interna-
tional
sporting
competitions
like
the
Olympic
Games)
held
in
cities
to
draw
in
consumers
from
elsewhere
and
attract
publicity
(Kipfer
&
Keil,
2002;
Rogerson,
2002;
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Fincher
et
al.
/
Progress
in
Planning
92
(2014)
1–5524

Steinbrink,
Haferburg,
&
Ley,
2011;
Waitt,
2008).
Have
the
ethnicity
or
racial
identification
of
certain
groups
in
the
city
and
their
places
become
one
means
for
the
diversity
of
the
city
to
be
‘sold’
to
potential
investors,
to
visitors,
or
indeed
to
local
consumers
and
city-users?
The
answer
is
a
qualified
yes,
and
as
we
will
see
this
process
has
occurred
particularly
through
promotion
of
areas
of
the
city
for
visitors
and
well-resourced
residents.
The
precise
role
of
planning
and
planners
in
commodifying
ethnic
and
racialized
diversity
in
cities,
as
opposed
to
the
role
of
local
government
overall,
is
not
always
clear
in
the
accounts
of
that
commodification
in
the
literature.
And
there
are
local
specificities.
Never-
theless,
more
inclusive
urban
policies
are
often
called
for
in
circumstances
in
which
local
businesses
run
by
and
for
ethnically
identified
groups
are
threatened
by
the
retail
and
housing
gentrification
associated
with
certain
places
in
the
entrepreneurial
city.
One
message
for
planners,
involved
with
colleagues
in
local
govern-
ment
who
are
delivering
urban
redevelopment
that
incorporates
ethnic
or
racialized
community
members
and
their
businesses,
is
to
remember
to
identify,
acknowledge
and
be
protective
of
those
who
may
be
losers
from
such
redevelopments.
This
section
examines
three
ways
in
which
planning
promotes
the
commodification
of
cities’
ethnically
different
communities
and
places.
First,
we
note
the
planning
of
cities
for
visitors
and
tourism.
Second,
we
identify
the
sometime
inclusion
of
immigrants
or
ethnically
diverse
groups
in
local
government
strategies
like
‘creative
city’
strategic
planning
or
the
formation
of
business
alliances.
And
third,
the
linking
of
commer-
cialization
of
ethnically
and
racially
distinct
retail
precincts
to
gentrification
is
observed.
Across
each
of
these
three
topics,
and
following
from
the
emphasis
on
the
subjects
and
strategies
of
planning
taken
in
the
previous
section,
we
note
the
ways
planning
and
local
economic
development
strategies
target
or
incorporate
ethnicised
subjects
in
ethnicised
places.
We
note
as
well
that
class
transformations
of
ethnicised
places
and
their
populations
seem
often
to
be
planned,
or
at
least
intended
or
hoped
for,
in
this
targeting.
4.1.
Cities
for
visitors
and
tourism
When
cities,
or
parts
of
them,
are
places
for
visitors
(Eisinger,
2000;
Judd
&
Fainstein,
1999),
then
ethnicity
in
distinct
places
is
a
form
of
diversity
that
can
be
pitched
to
those
visitors
by
place-marketing.
‘‘Places’’,
say
Judd
and
Fainstein
(1999,
p.
4),
constitute
the
essence
of
the
tourist
experience,
and
so
places
in
cities
are
‘sold’
to
consumers
as
a
product.
Governments,
often
local
governments
involved
in
planning
and
providing
infrastructure
in
local
built
environments,
can
contribute
strongly
to
conditions
for
the
entrepreneurial
place-marketing
of
places.
In
the
cities
of
immigrant
settler
nations,
immigrant
ethnicity
is
sometimes
a
basis
for
the
development
of
major
new
tourist
precincts.
Localities
like
Little
Italy
or
Chinatown,
where
immigrants
clustered
to
live
and
work
in
the
past,
have
become
busy
restaurant
districts
attracting
outsiders.
They
are
selectively
preserved
by
business
coalitions
for
visitors,
often
with
some
contest
from
the
local
Chinese
and
Italian
communities
who
no
longer
live
there
(Anderson,
1990,
1991;
Conforti,
1996).
In
Europe,
these
types
of
tourist-oriented
makeovers
are
now
on
the
rise
too.
European
cities
in
the
UK
and
The
Netherlands
have
‘‘discovered
their
old
historic
Chinatowns
and
Little
Italys’’
(Hall
&
Rath,
2007,
p.
2–3),
even
though,
in
The
Netherlands
at
least,
political
trends
have
not
favoured
immigration
in
recent
years.
In
the
United
States,
where
racialized
difference
is
not
solely
about
immigrants
in
the
host
society,
there
is
commodification
of
some
African
American
places.
In
New
York
City,
Harlem
has
been
the
site
of
develop-
ments
in
cultural
tourism,
using
the
opportunities
provided
to
small
business
there
by
federal
urban
empowerment
funds
(Hoffman,
2003).
It
is
noted
that
minorities
in
the
United
States
are
the
fastest-growing
group
of
consumers
(Porter,
1995),
and
that
the
cultural
branding
associated
with
Harlem
now
draws
African
Americans
from
elsewhere
in
the
United
States
to
the
area
even
though
tourism
there
originated
with
overseas
visitors
(Halter,
2007;
Hoffman,
2003).
Of
course
the
precise
circumstances
of
the
develop-
ment
of
branding
and
tourism
around
ethnic
or
racialized
difference
will
vary
in
specific
cities
and
nations.
But
in
most
cases
there
are
alliances
between
local
or
higher
levels
of
government,
community
and
business
organi-
zations,
to
make
these
commodifications
happen.
(Though
Preston
and
Lo
(2000)
observe
that
in
Toronto,
Canada,
collections
of
enterprises
offering
Chinese
goods
and
services,
which
are
Chinese
shopping
malls
in
fact,
are
being
led
by
real
estate
developers
with
minimal
government
involvement.)
A
number
of
related
factors
seem
necessary
if
the
commodification
of
migrants’
places
is
to
succeed
(Hall
&
Rath,
2007,
p.
16–18):
the
presence
of
effective
local
growth
coalitions,
policies
and
regulations
that
support
and
commercialize
diver-
sity,
spatial
concentrations
of
visible
immigrant
activ-
ities,
immigrant
entrepreneurship
in
shops
that
showcase
the
community’s
characteristics,
social
infrastructure
in
R.
Fincher
et
al.
/
Progress
in
Planning
92
(2014)
1–55
25

the
ethnic
community
in
the
form
of
community
organizations
involved
in
the
commodification
even
if
the
people
in
these
organizations
do
not
live
in
the
area,
accessibility
and
safety
for
tourists,
and
the
capacity
for
the
ethnicity
in
question
to
be
marketed
to
the
relevant
groups
of
visitors.
Not
everything
can
be
marketed
to
everyone,
however
–
an
example
is
that
in
Auckland,
New
Zealand,
overseas
visitors
may
be
drawn
by
the
marketing
claim
that
Auckland
is
the
‘world’s
largest
Polynesian
city’,
but
New
Zealanders
are
not
(Hall
&
Rath,
2007,
p.
19).
Drawing
on
our
cities
of
main
focus,
how
are
ethnically
distinct
places
being
commodified
for
a
broader
group
of
consumers
than
local,
often
less
wealthy,
co-ethnics?
Where
is
the
involvement
of
planning
in
these
activities
and
what
outcomes
are
planners
seeking
there,
if
their
contributions
can
be
singled
out?
In
London,
local
governments
have
been
initiating
expanded
consumption
in
certain
areas
of
major
cities
that
are
longstanding
sites
of
immigrant
settlement
and
also
poverty,
with
an
eye
to
reducing
the
socio-
economic
differences
between
these
deprived
localities
and
other
areas
(Shaw,
Bagwell,
&
Karmowska,
2004).
Jacobs
(1996)
and
Eade
(2000)
describe
the
complex
community
wrangles
resulting
over
immigrant
business
development,
gentrification,
conservation
and
local
government
politics
in
Spitalfields,
and
in
‘Banglatown’
in
Brick
Lane
in
East
London
(though
the
term
‘community’
should
not
be
taken
to
suggest
a
unified
immigrant
position
in
these
contests).
These
areas
are
contrasted
to
the
development
of
an
Asian
fashion
district
in
Green
Street,
West
Ham,
London
Borough
of
Newham,
in
which
investment
by
London’s
Asian
business
community
has
been
directed
at
developing
a
shopping
district
for
wealthier
Asian
families,
even
from
overseas.
This
Green
Street
initiative
differs
from
other
areas
like
Banglatown,
in
not
catering
to
western
ideas
of
the
exotic
(Shaw
et
al.,
2004).
Local
governments
have
been
centrally
involved
with
other
local
stakeholders
in
establishing
urban
regeneration
frameworks
and
incentives
in
London
to
encourage
such
local
development,
for
example
designating
certain
areas
as
cultural
quarters,
improving
old
infrastructure
like
markets
and
pathways
with
new
urban
designs,
and
marketing
events
associated
with
a
longstanding
immigrant
presence.
But
analysts
judge
that
the
frameworks
used
to
date
to
encourage
redevelopment
in
immigrant
places
have
been
less
successful
in
making
these
developments
‘sustainable’
in
ways
like
limiting
rental
rises
for
local
businesses,
and
reconciling
the
interests
of
business
in
economic
growth
with
the
interests
of
longstanding
local
residents
in
keeping
the
area
functioning
socially
(Shaw
et
al.,
2004).
Elsewhere
in
the
UK,
in
Birmingham,
the
city
government
has
sought
to
develop
a
new
image
for
the
city
as
a
‘vibrant
hub
of
multicultural
diversity’
through
a
marketing
focus
on
the
cuisine
of
its
Indian,
Pakistani.
Bangladeshi,
Chinese
and
African
Carib-
bean
populations.
In
this
case
government
preparation
for
such
place-marketing
has
involved
primarily
physical
infrastructure
development
such
as
the
creation
of
pedestrian-only
malls
(Jones
&
Ram,
2007).
Like
Shaw
et
al.
(2004)
and
Jones
and
Ram
(2007)
interpret
the
marketing
of
ethnicity
led
by
government
as
unsustainable,
in
the
Birmingham
case
because
the
growth
of
small
businesses
in
the
‘Balti
Quarter’
has
created
an
environment
in
which
cutting
prices
and
exploiting
(often
family
members’)
labour
is
the
only
way
these
businesses
can
survive.
Socio-
economic
polarization
is
occurring.
‘At
the
top
is
a
discourse
of
urban
redevelopment,
multiculturalism,
spectacle,
consumer
choice
and
the
pursuit
of
leisure.
At
the
bottom
is
a
tale
of
marginal
economic
survival,
unsocial
hours
and
under-rewarded
toil
under
pre-
carious
conditions
of
ever-present
risk.’
(Jones
&
Ram,
2007,
p.
64).
With
reference
to
certain
major
Asian
cities,
and
particularly
Singapore,
tourism
has
been
seen
by
governments
as
a
way
of
building
the
national
economy,
of
projecting
a
cultural
identity
both
nationally
and
internationally
(Mullins,
1999).
Meetings,
incentive
travel,
conventions,
and
exhibitions
are
now
being
encouraged
in
Singapore,
and
the
city
is
exploiting
its
unique
historical
importance
by
promoting
its
heritage,
rebuilding
its
markets
(which
were
destroyed
in
the
urban
renewal
schemes
of
the
1970s),
and
reconstruct-
ing
its
ethnic
enclaves.
State-directed
conservation
and
heritage
organizations
have
been
guiding
this
process
and
marketing
their
product
not
just
to
tourists
but
to
local
consumers
as
well
(Mullins,
1999,
p.
250).
Yeoh
(2005)
finds
that
the
Singaporean
state
retains
its
priority
of
promoting
national
identity
through
tourist
promotion:
the
redevelopment
of
Singapore’s
China-
town,
Little
India
and
Kampong
Glam
(the
Malaysian
enclave)
as
designated
‘historical
districts’,
this
dating
from
a
change
in
urban
policy
in
the
late
1980s,
was
both
to
halt
the
decline
in
tourist
numbers
and
also
to
retain
a
clear
Asian
identity
in
Singapore.
Focusing
on
Singapore’s
Little
India,
whose
13
hectares
was
gazetted
by
the
government’s
Urban
Redevelopment
Authority
in
1989
so
that
removal
or
alteration
of
a
building
requires
planning
approval,
Chang
(2000a)
R.
Fincher
et
al.
/
Progress
in
Planning
92
(2014)
1–5526

remarks
something
similar
to
that
noted
by
researchers
commenting
on
immigrant
commercial
areas
in
the
UK.
Government
planners
initiate
the
conditions
for
an
ethnically
specified
tourist
precinct,
but
then
do
not
control
the
resulting
economic
outcomes
so
as
to
benefit
existing
ethnic
community
members.
In
Singapore’s
Little
India:
Merchants
specializing
in
high
turnover
goods
have
set
up
shop,
while
less
lucrative
enterprises
–
such
as
those
selling
household
items
and
groceries
–
are
gradually
phased
out.
The
Little
India
Arcade
(LIA)
in
particular
suffers
from
this
problem
because
rents
here
are
extremely
high
and
many
traditional
activities
have
moved
elsewhere.
Local
visitors
and
tourists
are
the
main
patrons
of
LIA,
whereas
residents
are
repelled
by
the
loss
of
shops/services
which
once
catered
to
their
everyday
needs.
(Chang,
2000a,
p.
354)
Tourists
interviewed
by
Chang
were
unimpressed
by
one
outcome
of
the
planning
policy:
any
business
that
could
pay
the
rent
was
permitted
to
occupy
the
renovated
shops
in
Little
India
–
including
Japanese
retail
outlets
and
internationally
visible
chains
like
UK-
headquartered
The
Body
Shop!
In
post-apartheid
South
Africa,
tourism
planning
is,
as
elsewhere,
associated
with
economic
development,
usually
in
major
cities.
Business
tourism
for
conven-
tions
and
meetings
is
the
major
part
of
tourism
planning
in
Johannesburg.
It
occurs
in
the
primarily
white-
occupied
(formerly
‘white’)
northern
areas
of
the
Greater
Johannesburg
Metropolitan
Area
that
are
deemed
to
be
more
secure
for
visitors
(Rogerson,
2002).
For
in
Johannesburg,
the
spaces
of
the
inner
city,
deserted
by
the
white
population
after
the
end
of
apartheid
in
the
mid-1990s
when
white
people
moved
north
to
affluent
and
gated
suburbs,
are
now
the
destinations
of
poor
immigrants
from
other
parts
of
Africa
and
are
widely
viewed
as
unruly
spaces
(Murray,
2008).
Applications
for
the
establishment
of
casinos
in
the
inner
city
areas
of
Johannesburg,
that
might
have
prompted
development
there,
were
denied
in
the
late
1990s
(Rogerson,
2002).
Poor,
African
immigrants
are
providing
some
agency
for
change
in
this
part
of
the
city.
There
is
‘a
tentative
and
often
precarious
process
of
remaking
the
inner
city,
especially
now
that
the
policies
and
economics
that
once
moored
it
to
the
surrounding
city
have
mostly
worn
away.
In
many
respects
the
inner
city
has
been
‘‘le t
go’’
and
forced
to
reweave
its
connections
with
the
larger
world
by
making
the
most
of
its
limited
means’
(Simone,
2004,
p.
411).
So,
are
there
attempts
to
plan
the
revitalization
of
Johannesburg’s
less
wealthy
locations,
official
as
opposed
to
informal
attempts
at
doing
the
‘reweaving’
that
Simone
(2004)
refers
to,
and
are
they
associated
with
tourism
that
is
ethnically
defined?
Cultural
tourism
in
Johannesburg
is
present,
though
support
of
institu-
tions
for
the
arts
that
were
previously
located
in
inner
city
spaces
has
dropped
off
since
the
mid-1990s.
But
there
is
the
beginning
of
international
visitor-led
‘justice
tourism’
to
the
city’s
formerly
‘black’
town-
ships,
particularly
Soweto
and
also
Alexandra.
In
Soweto,
the
major
tourist
attraction
is
the
‘struggle
route’,
made
up
of
sites
significant
to
past
anti-apartheid
struggles
(Rogerson,
2004).
In
Alexandra,
a
township
located
within
the
wealthy
suburb
of
Sandton,
and
which
long
provided
workers
to
support
that
wealthy
suburb
at
the
same
time
as
being
a
place
of
political
struggle
from
the
1940s
to
the
1980s
(Rogerson,
2004,
p.
252)
entertainment
sites
are
developing
as
well.
Questions
have
been
raised
about
whether
township
tours
are
unethical
voyeurism,
with
tourists
observing
poor
people
and
their
places
appropriately.
One
response
to
these
questions
has
been
to
show
that
through
lively
interactions
between
tourists,
tour
guides
and
people
living
in
the
township
communities
the
circumstances
of
contemporary
South
Africa
are
discussed
and
critically
observed,
rather
than
one-
way
voyeurism
occurring
(Butler,
2010).
Municipal
government
programmes
are
including
both
Soweto
and
Alexandra
as
part
of
the
overall
tourism
experience
being
advertised
for
Johannesburg.
Government
funds
have
not
been
provided
to
start
up
small
businesses
in
these
places
or
train
would-be
entrepreneurs,
however,
despite
avowed
government
concern
with
expanding
black
entrepreneurship
in
a
tourism
sector
which
is
dominated
by
white
business
ownership
(Rogerson,
2004).
The
renovation
of
particular
sites
in
the
inner
city
of
Johannesburg,
associated
with
the
struggles
to
overturn
apartheid,
and
interpretations
of
it,
may
well
propel
some
leisure
tourism
to
inner
city
locations.
For
example,
the
longstanding
prison
site
on
Constitution
Hill
in
Johannesburg
is
now
home
to
a
new
constitu-
tional
court,
as
well
as
preservation
of
some
past
prison
buildings,
these
developments
co-located
in
a
spirit
of
visible
reconciliation
(Gevissier,
2004;
Van
der
Merwe
&
Patel,
2005).
In
addition,
however,
sites
of
spectacular
consumption
possibilities
are
developing
as
drawcards
in
wealthier,
suburban,
enclosed
enclaves.
Melrose
Arch
is
one,
a
large
development
of
expensive
high
rise
apartment
buildings,
hotels,
cafes
and
shops,
built
in
an
existing
residential
area
near
Sandton
to
R.
Fincher
et
al.
/
Progress
in
Planning
92
(2014)
1–55
27

attract
business
tourists.
It
has
become
a
tourist
attraction
for
Johannesburg
dwellers
too
as
they
‘escape’
from
the
realities
elsewhere
in
the
city
and
consume
here
in
safety
(Dirsuweit
&
Schattauer,
2004).
In
accounts
of
the
commodification
of
ethnicity
through
the
development
of
tourist
enclaves
in
areas
of
immigrant
or
minority-identified
commercial
premises,
the
agents
through
which
this
development
occurs
are
generally
understood
to
be
business-led
alliances
that
include
government
economic
planners.
Rarely
is
the
role
of
local
immigrant
entrepreneurs
in
initiating
such
economic
changes
noted.
But
immigrants
and
immi-
grant
entrepreneurs
may
themselves
proclaim
their
own
ethnicity,
and
draw
economic
and
social
benefit
from
that
and
from
their
spatial
clustering.
Thus
one
group
of
analysts
has
sought
‘to
analyze
the
manifestations
of
ethnic
diversity
as
commodified
by
immigrants’
and
‘how
these
expressions
of
culture
can
be
transformed
into
a
vehicle
for
socio-economic
development,
to
the
advantage
of
both
immigrants
and
the
city
at
large’
(Rath,
2007,
p.
xvi).
One
interesting
example,
different
from
the
common
restaurant-led
commodification
process,
is
the
growth
in
Canada
of
Korean-focussed
businesses
(package
tours,
home-stay
businesses
and
educational
consultancies)
by
immigrants
who
came
to
Canada
as
students
from
Korea
and
later
obtained
permanent
resident
status
there
(Kwak
&
Hiebert,
2007).
Otherwise,
many
cases
presented
suggest
that
in
the
attempt
to
create
and
periodically
update
‘ethnic
precincts’
offering
the
products
of
immigrant
or
minority
communities
for
broader
consumption,
smal-
ler
entrepreneurs
from
the
immigrant
or
minority
communities
are
often
sidelined,
as
in
Birmingham
(Jones
&
Ram,
2007).
Also,
there
can
be
problems
of
legitimacy
and
authenticity
as
a
few
individuals
or
businesses
present
themselves
as
‘representing’
a
culture,
a
matter
raised
about
Sydney’s
ethnic
precincts
(Collins,
2007,
and
see
Lin,
1998).
In
Berlin,
particularly
in
the
Kreuzberg
locality,
the
agency
of
Turkish
immigrant
entrepreneurs,
women
as
well
as
men
(Mushaben,
2006),
does
seem
notable.
This
occurs
in
a
context
in
which
alliances
of
government
with
community
and
business
organizations
seem
to
have
been
lacking.
In
a
situation
of
high
unemployment
of
Germans
of
Turkish
origin,
these
immigrants
set
up
their
own
businesses
relying
on
networks
amongst
themselves.
Their
entrepreneurship
is
not
necessarily
aimed
at
attracting
visitors
–
sometimes
it
is
aimed
at
co-ethnics
quite
specifically
–
though
for
expansion
and
longer-term
success
a
broader
clientele
is
needed,
and
sometimes
there
are
distinctions
between
whether
bars
and
restaurants
are
aimed
at
young
people
rather
than
a
wider
range
of
age
groups
(Pecoud,
2004,
p.
10).
(Indeed,
many
bars
frequented
by
Turkish
young
people
in
Berlin
avoid
locations
in
the
well-known
Turkish-
German
neighbourhoods,
Caglar,
2001.)
Entrepreneur-
ial
agency
in
this
context
requires
a
capacity
to
both
draw
on
the
resources
of
one’s
own
ethnically
identified
community,
and
to
develop
external
linkages
to
attract
custom.
At
the
same
time
as
this
immigrant
entrepreneurship
develops
through
networks
of
immigrants
themselves,
major
programmes
aiming
at
social
inclusion
and
urban
regeneration
have
been
proceeding
in
German
cities,
including
Berlin,
without
making
a
strong
connection
with
immigrant
small
businesspeople
(though
recently
a
government-sponsored
business
association
has
begun
to
give
advice
to
start-up
entrepreneurs,
Kil
&
Silver,
2006,
p.
99).
The
Socially
Integrative
City
programme
(referred
to
already
in
Section
3),
which
began
in
1999
in
many
German
cities,
did
not
promote
the
integration
of
immigrants
and
their
own
associations
in
the
programme
(Bockmeyer,
2006;
Silver,
2005).
4.2.
Including
immigrants
or
ethnically
defined
groups
in
local
government
strategies
to
form
creative
cities
or
local
business
alliances
Local
governments
adopt
a
range
of
strategies,
advancing
entrepreneurialism,
that
may
incorporate
ethnically
or
racially
defined
difference.
One
is
to
seek
the
‘creative
city’
–
a
concept
widely
known
and
debated,
following
its
development
by
Florida
(2002),
Landry
(2001)
and
others
(for
example,
Sager
(2011,
p.
155)
describes
‘cultural
display’
as
‘amongst
the
tools
of
neoliberal
urban
development
strategies’).
Another
is
to
form
business
alliances
that
include
or
have
a
relationship
with
ethnically
defined
groups,
to
enhance
development
in
the
city
associated
with
those
groups.
First,
we
consider
creative
city
strategies.
In
discussions
about
the
creative
city,
the
implications
of
ethnic
diversity
and
racialized
differences
in
the
city
(alongside
other
forms
of
‘diversity’
like
‘tolerance’
of
gays
and
lesbians
and
presence
of
artists
and
‘bohemians’)
for
urban
economic
development
are
canvassed
(Florida,
2002).
Florida
has
made
the
argument
that
the
presence
of
immigrants
in
a
city
is
associated
with
economic
development
there,
which
can
be
understood
as
the
presence
of
ethnic
entrepre-
neurship
such
as
that
described
for
Berlin,
as
well
as
the
presence
of
highly
skilled,
high-tech
industry
workers
who
are
internationally
mobile.
The
emphasis
here
is
on
active,
nimble
and
therefore
‘creative’
entrepreneurial
activity
that
might
be
associated
with
these
groups.
The
R.
Fincher
et
al.
/
Progress
in
Planning
92
(2014)
1–5528

presence
of
racial
minorities,
however,
is
not
associated
with
urban
economic
growth,
in
the
way
Florida
measures
it,
and
is,
furthermore,
associated
with
inequality
in
the
city,
often
through
segregation
and
discrimination.
This
is
a
confusing
aspect
of
Florida’s
treatment
of
difference
in
the
city,
in
which
the
term
‘racial
minorities’
is
deemed
not
to
be
associated
with
creativity
but
the
presence
of
immigrants
is
associated
with
creativity.
Which
groups
are
included
in
the
measurement
of
‘racial
minorities’
and
‘immigrants’
is
the
reason
for
this
apparently
contradictory
finding.
Other
authors
comment
that
Florida’s
measure
of
racial
diversity
collates
all
‘non-whites’
despite
there
being
different
racial
groups
within
such
a
category,
so
that
it
is
not
surprising
that
urban
economic
development
(measured
as
growth
in
the
high-tech
industry
sectors)
is
not
clearly
linked
with
the
presence
of
these
groups
(Thomas
&
Darnton,
2006).
There
are
also
broader
criticisms
of
Florida’s
work.
Some
relate
to
questions
of
causality,
holding
that
it
is
not
clear
in
Florida’s
work
whether
cities
are
creative
because
they
are
already
diverse,
or
whether
they
attract
diversity
because
they
are
creative;
others
express
concern
that
without
decisive
urban
strategies
to
protect
the
interest
of
low-income
artists
and
other
creative
workers,
gentrification
will
follow
the
presence
of
these
workers
and
they
will
be
displaced
(Shaw
&
Fincher,
2010).
Peck’s
(2005)
excoriating
linking
of
creative
city
ideas
with
acceptance
of
growing
urban
inequality,
because
that
thinking
is
a
form
of
libertarian
neoliberalism,
is
one
of
the
most
powerful.
Peck
(2005,
p.
759)
argues
that
workers
not
part
of
the
creative
classes,
and
particularly
the
casualised
urban
working
poor,
are
expected
in
creative
city
thinking
to
accept
an
increasingly
casualised
labour
market
and
to
throw
away
their
expectations
of
social
and
economic
entitlements,
income
growth
and
security.
Further,
creative
city
thinking
disregards
the
interests
of
those
deemed
uncreative:
‘Florida’s
proposals
ultimately
amount
to
a
plea
for
grassroots
agency
with
a
communitarian
conscience
amongst
a
privileged
class
of
creatives’,
says
Peck
(2005,
p.
760),
‘lubricated
by
modest
public-sector
support
for
culturally
appropriate
forms
of
gentrification
and
consumption’.
Matters
of
racialization
and
ethnic
diversity
are
rarely
singled
out
for
particular
comment
in
the
critiques
of
Florida’s
ideas
and
political
position.
Michael
Porter’s
earlier
claims
(1995)
about
the
comparative
advantage
of
the
American
inner
city
for
investment,
because
of
the
unmet
demand
there
for
services
and
products
providing
for
Latino
and
African
American
needs
(for
culturally
specific
beauty
products,
media
and
food,
for
example)
do
seem
to
foreshadow
Florida’s
thoughts
about
the
advantages
of
difference
in
the
city,
though
not
with
reference
to
the
same
ethnic
groups.
Porter’s
ideas
have
reportedly
been
influential
in
the
establishment
of
small
business
lending
programmes
in
New
York’s
Harlem
(Hoffman,
2003).
Thus,
we
see
in
creative
city
strategies
a
yearning
for
the
class
transformation
of
urban
places,
often
associated
with
gentrification,
with
the
subjects
of
this
form
of
policy
thinking
the
casualised
workforce
who
are
either
‘creative’
workers
to
be
encouraged,
or
disregarded
uncreative
workers.
Australian
cities
have
been
the
focus
of
recent
critical
attention,
in
assessments
of
governments’
attempts
to
develop
creative
city
strategic
planning.
Though
only
one
Australian
city,
Brisbane,
has
a
formal
creative
city
strategy
administered
by
its
metropolitan-
wide
government,
governments
in
other
cities’
central
municipalities
(for
none
other
than
Brisbane
has
metropolitan-wide
government)
use
the
ideas
of
Florida
and
Landry
as
useful
frames
of
reference
(Atkinson
&
Easthope,
2009).
Diversity
is
not
interpreted
to
mean
participants
in
a
racialized
and
ethnicised
multiculture
–
in
general
the
city
authorities
here
have
in
mind
development
of
the
creative
industries
associated
with
the
visual
and
performing
arts.
And
indeed
this
thinking
is
accompanied
by
failures
to
include
lower-income
groups
–
creative
city
strategy
is
not
a
social
inclusion
strategy.
‘For
the
community
and
NGO
sectors,
creative
cities
are
perceived
to
maintain
the
privilege
of
privilege
and
cut
few
paths
towards
a
more
sustainable
position
for
those
on
lower
incomes.
The
latter
are
seen
to
be
potentially
threatening
to
the
investment
of
footloose
creative
‘‘gentrifiers’’
or
business
investors’
(Atkinson
&
Easthope,
2009,
p.
75).
The
irony
that
Florida’s
original
model
of
the
economically
productive
creative
city
was
based
on
an
idea
of
inclusion
or
tolerance
should
not
be
lost
–
but
it
is
clear
that
this
was
a
limited
form
of
inclusion,
where
social
diversity
still
had
to
be
combined
with
economic
capacity
(Luckman,
Gibson,
&
Lea,
2009).
Indeed,
even
regional
development
policy
discussions
in
Australia
have
drawn
on
the
thinking
of
Florida,
to
identify
ways
that
cultural
pursuits
in
regions
could
be
developed
entrepreneu-
rially
so
as
to
reap
economic
gains
(Gibson
&
Klocker,
2005).
If
ethnic
diversity
were
a
feature
of
regions,
in
this
way
of
thinking,
it
would
be
valued
only
insofar
as
it
might
be
consumed
by
others,
commodified,
and
not
for
its
existence
alone
or
its
social
benefits.
So
how
does
creative
city
thinking
appear
in
Sydney
and
does
it,
even
if
other
Australian
cities’
planning
does
not,
tilt
towards
a
particular
consideration
of
the
R.
Fincher
et
al.
/
Progress
in
Planning
92
(2014)
1–55
29

city’s
lived
multiculturalism?
In
this
metropolitan
area,
there
are
the
internationally
common,
commodified,
commercial
precincts
of
Chinatown
and
Little
Italy
in
the
inner
city,
as
well
as
large,
diverse,
immigrant
suburbs
in
western
Sydney
whose
major
shopping
streets
showcase
ethnically
identified
commerce
(Col-
lins
&
Poynting,
2000;
Ley
&
Murphy,
2001).
There
is
an
inner
city
pocket
of
Aboriginal
housing
and
community
in
the
suburb
of
Redfern
(Shaw,
2000)
as
well
as
many
Aboriginal
people
living
in
the
suburbs
of
western
Sydney
(Collins
&
Poynting,
2000).
Despite
the
diverse
lived
multiculturalism
of
Sydney,
the
literature
about
entrepreneurial
planning
for
the
city
and
use
of
creative
city
frameworks
provides
little
evidence
that
ethnicised
diversity
is
a
specific
matter
of
focus.
In
its
successful
bid
to
host
the
2000
Olympic
Games,
Sydney’s
leaders
presented
Sydney
as
a
city
an
important
part
of
whose
new
economy
was
based
on
consumption.
Evidence
for
this
was
that
Sydney
had
developed
heritage
precincts,
waterfront
rehabilitation,
a
casino,
and
so
on
(Waitt
(1999)
writing
before
the
adoption
of
creative
city
thinking
which
emerged
primarily
in
the
2000s).
The
Olympic
bid
did
dwell
specifically
on
multiculturalism
as
it
is
lived
in
Sydney,
in
response,
says
Waitt
(1999,
p.
1065)
to
the
original
vision
of
the
Olympic
Games
as
generating
harmony
between
diverse
peoples.
But
the
meaning
of
multi-
culturalism
for
the
bid
was
limited
to
the
claim
that
everyone
in
this
Australian
city
is
friendly
and
welcoming.
‘In
Sydney,
attitudes,
language,
religion
and
food
mix
easily
in
friendliness
and
fairness.
The
result
is
a
rich
cultural
community,
a
city
of
140
cultures
and
over
180
languages’
the
Prime
Minister’s
wife
said
in
her
1993
bid
speech
(as
cited
in
Waitt,
1999,
p.
1065).
This
view
of
multicultural
Sydney
dwells
on
the
longstanding
and
relatively
unconflicted
presence
in
the
city
of
diverse
immigrant
groups,
and
does
not
emphasize
the
periods
of
racist
resistance
to
certain
racialized
groups
and
their
spatial
concentration
in
certain
places.
In
particular
it
does
not
mention
the
concentration
of
Vietnamese
immigrants
in
the
suburb
of
Cabramatta
which
was
the
subject
of
racist
and
racialising
commentary
in
the
media
and
elsewhere
in
the
1980s
and
1990s
(Ley
&
Murphy,
2001),
and
the
presence
of
Aboriginal
people
and
housing
in
the
inner
suburb
of
Redfern,
which
has
been
the
subject
of
media
and
other
complaints
as
well
(Waitt,
1999;
Shaw,
2000).
The
‘City
of
Cities’
metropolitan
planning
strategy
released
by
the
New
South
Wales
State
government
for
its
capital
city,
Sydney,
in
2005
does
not
target
ethnically
identified
groups
for
development
or
the
city’s
multiculturalism,
despite
the
strategy’s
vision
of
improved
liveability
and
global
economic
competitive-
ness
(Searle,
2006).
But
this
creative
city
planning
for
Sydney
has
occurred
at
the
level
of
the
State
Government,
rather
than
municipal
government.
The
failure
to
highlight
ethnically
identified,
creative
city
strategies
in
the
State
Government’s
planning
policy
may
be
because
the
development
of
planning
for
Sydney’s
multiculture
has
been
a
task
of
local
governments,
particularly
those
in
municipalities
with
high
proportions
of
immigrants
in
their
populations.
And
these
local
governments
have
not
to
date
(at
least
as
evidenced
in
the
literature
about
them)
seen
as
their
priority
the
development
of
their
populations’
characteristics
as
a
commodity.
For
example,
governments
of
two
of
Sydney’s
suburbs
see
their
task
of
planning
for
and
with
ethnic
diversity
squarely
as
responding
to
residents’
settlement
needs
in
the
present
and
future
–
providing
services,
supporting
local
ethnic
community
organizations,
providing
advocacy
and
assistance
to
residents
with
training,
employment
and
housing
(Thompson,
2003).
These
are
Canterbury
and
Fairfield
City
Councils,
both
in
western
Sydney.
Canterbury,
with
around
45%
of
its
population
born
overseas,
primarily
in
Greece,
Lebanon,
and
more
recently
China
and
the
Pacific
Islands,
and
with
most
residents
of
lower
income
and
many
not
speaking
English
well,
provides
community
support
workers
to
undertake
these
tasks.
In
Fairfield,
the
municipality
with
the
greatest
proportion
of
its
population
born
overseas
of
any
in
Australia,
and
with
70
languages
spoken
and
residents
from
130
countries
(Thompson,
2003),
a
cultural
planner
has
been
appointed
to
oversee
developments,
and
to
revitalize
one
suburb
in
the
municipality
with
urban
designs
appealing
and
mean-
ingful
to
current
residents.
Fairfield
is
the
location
of
the
suburb
of
Cabramatta,
home
to
more
than
40%
of
Sydney’s
Vietnamese
community
and
an
area
in
which
tourism
is
growing
because
of
its
concentration
of
Vietnamese
restaurants
and
cultural
facilities
(Thomp-
son,
2003).
Now,
for
the
most
part,
the
planning
of
a
decade
ago
in
these
two
municipalities
is
planning
for
the
benefit
of
ethnically
diverse
local
dwellers
in
an
area
where
multiculturalism
is
everyday
life
–
it
is
not
planning
guided
by
a
wish
to
respond
to
the
consumption
needs
of
a
creative
class.
But
Cabramatta
is
an
area
now
attracting
tourists
as
well
as
Vietnamese
co-nationals
from
elsewhere
in
Sydney,
and
these
tourists
are
interested
in
taking
tours
of
the
area’s
sites,
including
its
themed
public
spaces
and
its
restaurants.
Accordingly,
local
government
is
marketing
the
municipality
as
a
multicultural
place
(which
is
now
becoming
known,
though
not
formally,
as
Vietnamatta,
R.
Fincher
et
al.
/
Progress
in
Planning
92
(2014)
1–5530

say
Collins
&
Kunz,
2009).
This
seems
unable
to
be
described
as
creative
city
strategising,
though
it
is
the
establishment
of
a
cultural
or
ethnic
precinct.
From
this
situation,
it
seems
clear
that
ethnically
identified
precincts
in
Sydney
are
not
to
date
the
outcome
of
creative
city
strategies,
and
many
(especially
those
in
outer
suburban
areas
like
the
ones
in
Sydney’s
west)
are
not
even
necessarily
commodifying
ethnicity
(though
their
local
government
might
now
be
responding
to
that
possibility).
Another
governmental
strategy
pursued
at
the
local
scale
is
to
form
business
alliances
in
order
to
hasten
and
coordinate
economic
growth
in
the
city.
Here,
the
politics
of
urban
growth
become
highly
evident,
in
their
local
specificity.
The
characteristics
of
urban
business
alliances
(what
Molotch
(1976)
famously
termed
city
‘growth
machines’,
a
term
long
accepted
as
an
apt
characterization
of
urban
growth
in
the
United
States
and
indeed
in
Canadian
and
UK
cities
(Light,
2002),
vary.
One
element
of
their
variation
is
the
manner
in
which
they
incorporate
immigrant
or
ethnically
identified
entrepreneurs.
Another
varying
element
is
the
extent
to
which
governmental
agencies
(including
planners)
are
actively
part
of
the
alliances.
Examples
come
from
New
York
City.
There,
Zukin
et
al.
(2009)
have
documented
the
retail
gentrification
of
Central
Harlem,
an
African
American
neighbourhood
in
which
disinvestment
occurred
between
the
1960s
and
1980s,
but
where
since
the
1990s
‘a
panoply
of
state
agencies
–
led
by
the
New
York
City
government,
the
Harlem
Community
Development
Corporation
(a
subsidiary
of
New
York
State’s
Empire
State
Development
Corpora-
tion),
and
the
Upper
Manhattan
Empowerment
Zone
(UMEZ)
established
by
the
US
Congress
in
1994
–
has
supported
commercial
investment
through
a
series
of
coordinated
policies
and
interrelated
organisations’
(Zukin
et
al.,
2009,
p.
50).
The
loan
criteria
of
UMEZ
favour
the
Black
middle
class,
say
these
authors,
though
most
recipients
of
the
commercial
loans
do
not
live
in
Central
Harlem.
And
though
the
city
government
has
instituted
inclusionary
zoning
for
apartment
housing
in
the
area,
retail
gentrification
is
making
it
difficult
for
longstanding
small
business
to
remain
viable.
There
is
thus
a
class
transformation
of
the
area
being
expressed
in
its
retail
changes,
whose
subjects
(consumers)
are
visitors
and
tourists.
Zukin
et
al.
(2009)
argue
that
urban
policy,
planning,
needs
to
be
directed
at
protecting
these
local
shops
for
local
residents.
In
a
second
example
from
New
York
City,
Chinatown
is
the
setting.
Charting
the
efforts
of
the
longstanding
Chinese
community
to
reclaim
sites
of
historical
significance
in
Chinatown,
and
mark
these
sites
as
museums
or
publicly
and
ethnically
identified
gathering
places,
Lin
(1999)
remarks
upon
the
clash
between
these
efforts
and
the
interests
of
contemporary
Chinese
investors
seeking
to
gentrify
and
build
high-rise
apartments
in
the
area.
In
this
case,
co-ethnic
economic
and
cultural
interests
in
the
city
were
at
odds,
and
were
supported
by
different
parts
of
the
local
state
apparatus.
Chinatowns
are
of
great
current
interest
as
places
in
which
ethnically
identified
growth
alliances
may
be
found,
which
either
oppose
or
combine
the
capacities
of
longstanding
members
of
the
Chinese
diaspora
and
of
overseas
Chinese
investors.
In
Los
Angeles,
Light
(2002)
has
described
the
manner
in
which
Chinese
(and
also
Korean)
immigrants
have
re-activated
the
local
urban
growth
machine
at
a
time
(1970–1999)
when
white
American
growth
alliances
in
the
city
were
foundering.
Whole
areas
of
the
suburbs
were
rebuilt
using
investment
capital
from
co-ethnic
banks,
some-
times
overseas-based
banks.
The
resulting
housing
was
advertised
in
China,
and
then
taken
up
by
middle
class
Chinese
immigrants
moving
to
Los
Angeles.
Again
this
is
a
class
transformation
of
older
suburbs,
accomplished
within
an
identified
ethnic
group.
In
London,
where
Chinatown
is
located
in
a
regenerating
area,
a
variety
of
longstanding
Chinese
community
groups
and
organiza-
tions
were
initially
opposed
to
redevelopment
of
the
area
(as
in
New
York
City),
but
municipal
government
efforts
to
incorporate
and
involve
the
local
Chinese
businesses
and
locality-users
in
the
urban
redevelop-
ment
have
attained
their
compliance
(Hatziprokopiou
&
Montagna,
2012).
The
forms
of
incorporation
of
immigrant
and
minority
groups
in
urban
growth
alliances
vary;
government-led
business
alliances
may
include
ethni-
cally
identified
community
members
as
partners,
may
form
alliances
that
treat
these
groups
in
specific
ways
as
clients,
or
may
help
to
resolve
conflicts
between
groups
and
their
overseas
ethnic
counterparts.
Sometimes,
as
in
Los
Angeles,
business
alliances
may
be
established
from
within
a
particular
ethnically
identified
group.
The
full
range
of
these
alliances
are
often
to
be
found
in
circumstances
of
urban
renewal,
in
which
the
home
neighbourhoods
of
immigrant
or
minority
groups
are
attractive
sites
for
investment
and
upgrading,
and
so
those
groups
become
involved
or
incorporated
in
political
struggles
around
the
fate
of
this
urban
space.
4.3.
Links
between
commodification
of
ethnicity
and
gentrification
More
than
a
decade
ago,
Lees
(2000)
called
for
research
on
gentrification
to
include
discussions
of
race
R.
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et
al.
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Planning
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31

and
ethnicity
more
systematically
and
critically,
in
order
to
offset
problems
with
the
implicit
class
and
race
oppositions
organizing
the
gentrification
literature.
She
observed
too
simple
a
focus
on
‘middle-class
gentri-
fiers/incomers
(white)
versus
working-class
residents/
displaced
(black).
In
the
revanchist
city
thesis
racial/
ethnic
minorities
are
more
often
than
not
represented
as
victims
–
Jacobs’
(1996)
study
of
the
affirmation
of
Bengali
identity
and
entrepreneurial
spirit
in
the
creation
of
‘Banglatown’
in
the
Spitalfields
area
of
London
suggests
otherwise’
(Lees,
2000,
p.
400).
Another
example
of
African
American
residents
not
being
entirely
the
‘victims’
of
gentrification
is
in
the
transformation
of
retailing
in
Central
Harlem,
in
New
York
City,
by
the
African
American
middle
class
(Zukin
et
al.,
2009).
Thus
the
agency
of
immigrants
and
minority
groups
needs
to
be
understood
as
a
possible
contributor
to
gentrification
in
some
settings,
even
as
lower-income
immigrants
and
minority
groups
have
been
vulnerable
to
displacement
in
others.
Associating
the
commodi-
fication
of
ethnicity
in
some
jurisdictions
with
gentrification
may
also
show
that
this
entrepreneurial
activity
might
be
either
a
precursor
to
or
a
result
of
gentrification.
So,
in
central
Melbourne,
Australia,
one
of
the
earliest
gentrifying
areas
in
that
city
contains
a
new,
up-market
restaurant,
intended
to
train
Aboriginal
young
people
in
hospitality
skills
as
they
offer
a
restaurant
service
to
middle-class
consumers
who
are
generally
not
Aboriginal
people.
This
restaurant
replaces
an
Aboriginal
health
service
previously
using
the
building
(Cummins
&
Shaw,
2009).
The
story
is
more
complex
than
a
simple
displacement
of
one
activity
and
victimized
group
by
another,
however,
as
the
building
is
still
owned
by
the
Aboriginal
health
service,
which
has
sub-let
it
as
a
social
enterprise
and
will
use
the
rental
income
for
health
programmes
for
Aboriginal
people
elsewhere.
So,
whether
this
circum-
stance
is
the
result
of
gentrification,
a
contribution
to
it,
or
whether
it
is
a
clever
strategy
to
take
advantage
of
gentrification,
is
a
question
showcasing
the
complexity
of
the
matter.
Gentrification
has
a
suburban
face
too,
when
led
by
the
commodification
of
ethnicity.
In
the
suburbs
of
major
American
cities
such
as
Los
Angeles,
‘ethno-
burbs’
have
been
observed
(Li,
1998,
2009).
These
are
mixed
residential
and
business
areas
in
multi-ethnic
suburban
locations,
in
which
one
ethnic
group
is
strongly
though
not
exclusively
present,
and
in
which
that
one
group’s
presence
is
visible
in
the
kinds
of
redevelopments
taking
place.
These
refurbished
sub-
urbs
differ
in
their
built
form
and
social
character
from
inner
city
ethnic
enclaves
like
Chinatowns.
In
Flushing,
a
suburb
of
New
York
City,
investment
by
Taiwanese
immigrants
in
combined
commercial
and
residential
real
estate
since
the
1980s
has
transformed
that
locality
into
a
thriving
suburban
Chinatown
dominated
com-
mercially
by
ethnic
Chinese
immigrants
with
a
Taiwanese
background
(Huang,
2010).
Huang
argues
that
this
is
not
a
satellite
of
the
downtown
Chinatown
of
New
York
(unlike
claims
made
by
other
analysts),
but
rather
a
middle
class
redevelopment,
sparked
by
the
actions
of
a
particular
entrepreneur
who
designed
specific
business
and
residential
investment
opportu-
nities
for
Taiwanese
immigrants,
knowing
of
their
cultural
preferences.
It
is
our
view
that
this
phenomenon
is
more
common
than
the
literature
indicates.
It
occurs
also,
for
example,
in
the
Toronto
suburbs
of
Markham
and
Brampton.
Toronto
is
a
city
whose
multicultural
nature
and
changes
have
been
analyzed
over
the
past
few
decades,
with
some
interest
in
the
links
between
immigration
and
gentrification
and
the
complexities
of
that
relationship.
One
strand
of
literature
examines
how
some
(though
not
all)
sites
in
immigrants’
original
destinations
(like
pre-
World
War
2
Chinatown)
have
become
tourist
destina-
tions
now
rather
than
immigrant
residential
enclaves
(Murdie
&
Texeira,
2003).
(As
a
product
of
this
long
process,
Qadeer
(2005)
views
Toronto
as
having
healthy
ethnic
enclaves
that
function
well
socially
and
encourage
ethnic
entrepreneurship,
and
in
which
people
choose
to
stay
living
rather
than
feeling
constrained
to
stay
living.)
Another
strand
of
research
considers
more
precisely
the
spatial
intersection
of
immigrant-driven
commercial
areas
with
the
nearby
gentrification
of
housing
that
is
not
necessarily
occupied
by
members
of
the
immigrant
group
being
commercially
showcased.
Core
to
it
is
the
work
of
Hackworth
and
Rekers
(2005).
They
examine
four
neighbourhoods
in
central
Toronto
–
Little
Italy,
Corso
Italia,
Greektown
on
Danforth
and
Gerrard
India
Bazaar
–
because
these
are
areas
that
are
specifically
identified
ethnically,
and
because
there
are
business
improvement
associations
set
up
to
support
them
commercially,
and
to
reinforce
their
ethnic
‘branding’
and
marketing.
(Business
Improvement
Associations
are
‘collections
of
property
owners
that
agree
to
a
self-
taxation
scheme
that
will
be
used
to
provide
services
to
a
particular
neighbourhood’,
Hackworth
&
Rekers,
2005,
p.
233.)
The
close
link
between
the
successful
commercial
streets
of
ethnically
branded
premises
and
gentrification
in
the
surrounding
housing
is
evidenced
in
Little
Italy
by
real
estate
brochures’
attempts
to
portray
the
advantages
of
the
area
to
the
purchasers
of
new,
R.
Fincher
et
al.
/
Progress
in
Planning
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(2014)
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expensive
condominiums.
In
Greektown
it
has
been
observable
in
the
difficulties
that
restaurants
and
coffee
shops
wanting
to
continue
to
serve
the
Greek
community
have
had
in
trying
both
to
do
that
and
to
cater
to
the
influx
of
young,
wealthier
‘yuppies’,
in
a
real
estate
market
of
rising
rents.
Corso
Italia
is
a
neighbourhood
echoing
the
transformation
of
Little
Italy
twenty
years
before.
At
the
time
of
writing,
Hackworth
and
Rekers
(2005)
remark
that
its
businesses
are
not
yet
so
dominated
by
restaurants
as
in
Little
Italy
and
some
still
serve
basic
goods
to
a
largely
Italian
clientele
–
but
the
changes
associated
with
gentrifica-
tion
seem
on
some
indicators
of
residential
conversions
and
purchases
to
be
on
the
way.
Like
Corso
Italia,
Gerrard
India
Bazaar
exhibits
some
signs
of
gentrifica-
tion
in
pockets
(artists’
premises,
some
residential
changes).
Hackworth
and
Rekers
(2005,
p.
232)
note
the
importance
of
local
business
improvement
associations
whose
‘packaging
efforts
are
translating
into
a
constructed
multicultural
urbanity
that
is
attractive
to
young
urban
professionals
of
many
ethnic
back-
grounds.’
The
associations
(not
always
intentionally)
make
the
link
occur
between
the
commodification
of
ethnicity
and
nearby
gentrification.
Other
research
(Murdie
&
Texeira,
2011)
considers
the
way
Portuguese
immigrants
in
west
central
Toronto,
many
of
them
longstanding
residents
in
and
around
Little
Portugal,
are
experiencing
ongoing
gentrification.
The
findings
are
mixed,
with
some
homeowners
benefiting
from
the
rising
house
prices
by
selling
their
homes
for
a
tidy
sum
and
moving
elsewhere,
and
others
who
are
unwilling
to
move
finding
the
rental
and
maintenance
costs
of
their
housing
difficult
to
meet.
Similarly
varied
are
the
responses
of
shop
owners,
some
of
whom
appreciate
the
custom
of
newcomers
and
some
who
do
not.
In
the
neighbourhoods
of
major
Canadian
cities,
including
Toronto,
in
which
a
process
of
gentrification
has
played
out
over
decades
and
is
considered
now
to
be
‘complete’,
ethnic
and
socio-
economic
diversity
has
been
reduced.
The
situation
now
differs
from
that
in
the
initial
stages
of
gentrification,
in
which
ethnic
and
economic
diversity
could
be
said
to
have
been
increased
because
of
the
introduction
of
higher
income
residents
to
lower-income
areas
that
often
served
as
immigration
reception
locations
(Walks
&
Maaranen,
2008).
How
long
the
commercially
developed
shopping
and
entertainment
precincts,
that
are
ethnically
identified,
will
survive
in
a
final
stage
of
gentrification
remains
unclear.
At
the
start
of
our
discussion
of
gentrification
and
its
association
with
the
commodification
of
ethnicity,
we
signalled
that
our
focus
would
be
on
ways
that
the
places
and
commercial
establishments
of
ethnically
identified
groups
became
part
of
a
gentrification
process.
This
might
be
either
because
those
groups
intended
this
to
be
so
(as
in
the
American
‘ethnoburbs’),
for
their
own
benefit,
or
because
those
groups’
places
and
commercial
establishments
were
spatially
contig-
uous
with
gentrification
that
was
unrelated
to
their
presence,
and
they
had
to
adapt
to
it
over
time.
The
assumption
that
any
involvement
of
ethnic
minority
groups
with
gentrification
was
to
the
groups’
disadvan-
tage
as
they
became
displaced
victims
of
that
process
was
not
to
be
the
sole
interest
of
our
discussion.
Having
said
this,
however,
the
issue
of
displacement
of
poor
minority
communities
in
processes
of
gentrification
has
been
of
great
concern
to
social
scientists
over
decades,
especially
in
investigations
of
how
public
policy
might
be
implicated
in
encouraging
such
displacement.
(Atkinson
(2000),
writing
about
central
London,
is
one
example.)
A
flurry
of
writing
has
taken
issue
with
recent
American
analyses
denying
that
displacement
of
poor
people
by
gentrification
is
significant
and
that
public
policies
supporting
poor
people
to
live
in
gentrifying
areas
should
be
dismantled
(Newman
&
Wyly,
2006;
Slater,
2009).
A
wide-ranging
study
about
gentrification
in
New
York
City,
based
on
qualitative
and
quantitative
data
(Newman
&
Wyly,
2006),
indicates
that
even
if
dramatic
quantitative
evidence
of
large-scale
displacement
of
poor
people
from
gentrifying
neighbourhoods
does
not
exist,
and
poor
minority
(especially
Latino)
residents
of
these
neigh-
bourhoods
are
remaining
there
(‘staying
put’),
what
is
happening
is
that
these
poor
remaining
residents
are
moving
in
with
friends
and
family
and
thus
experien-
cing
overcrowding,
or
taking
up
publicly
subsidized
housing
options
of
one
form
or
another.
‘It
is
deeply
troubling’
these
authors
say,
‘that
public
regulation
of
the
market
helps
to
mitigate
displacement
pressures
and
that
this
fact
is
then
used
to
justify
deregulation
and
privatization,
because,
we
are
told,
gentrification
is
a
boost
for
everyone’
(Newman
&
Wyly,
2006,
p.
42).
4.4.
Issues
for
planning
that
is
commodifying
ethnic
and
racial
difference
What
kind
of
planning,
what
parts
of
planning,
are
involved
in
the
commodification
of
racially
and
ethnically
identified
difference
in
some
forms
of
visitor-oriented
urban
redevelopment,
creative
city
thinking,
establishment
of
local
business
alliances,
and
gentrification?
It
has
been
noted
in
the
literature
that
planning
the
entrepreneurial
or
neoliberal
city
is
a
shift
that
may
draw
the
planning
task
away
from
its
previous
R.
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et
al.
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33

emphasis
on
service
provision
and
enhancement
of
the
wellbeing
of
city
dwellers
and
businesses,
and
towards
positioning
the
city
in
global
competition
for
investment
and
consumption.
Thus,
the
social
norms
of
planning
like
redistribution,
recognition
and
encounter
(Fincher
&
Iveson,
2008),
that
focus
inwards
to
the
wellbeing
of
a
locality’s
population,
might
be
nudged
aside
in
favour
of
looking
outwards
to
economic
competitiveness.
This
is
nowhere
more
obvious
than
when
cities
are
competing
to
host
a
major
international
event.
As
an
example,
in
the
heightened
context
of
preparations
for
a
2008
Olympic
Games
bid,
Toronto’s
shift
to
entrepre-
neurial
planning
and
away
from
redistributive
planning
was
described
(Kipfer
&
Keil,
2002,
p.
238).
The
locally
concerned
and
locally
accountable
planning
of
the
everyday,
in
this
example,
is
subsumed
in
the
all-consuming
endeavour
of
the
Olympics
bid.
But
not
every
day
is
focused
on
an
Olympics
bid,
and
local
planning
for
housing,
retail
and
economic
development
occurs
in
the
multicultural
reality
of
most
big
cities
outside
such
pressing
contexts.
What
are
the
issues
commonly
raised
for
planners
in
the
context
of
attempts
in
many
cities
to
commodify
ethnic
and
racial
difference?
What
should
they
be
looking
out
for,
as
they
participate
in
a
range
of
institutional
practices
that
might
include
collaboration
with
local
growth
coali-
tions,
or
establishing
a
range
of
strategic
plans
in
circumstances
in
which
neoliberal
policies
are
becom-
ing
more
prominent
for
local
places?
We
argue
that
a
major
concern
for
planners
should
be
use
of
progressive
norms
like
those
proposed
by
Fincher
and
Iveson
(2008);
if
used
actively
by
planners
to
build
and
assess
proposals
for
the
commodification
of
areas
identified
with
ethnic
or
racial
difference,
these
concepts
might
help
formulate
ways
to
ensure
that
the
benefits
of
commercial
redevelopment
accrue
to
people
across
the
class
and
income
spectrum.
Our
view
is
reflected
in
the
critical
literature.
Overall
there
are
two
issues
canvassed
there
for
planning,
in
light
of
the
turn
to
neoliberal
policies
for
cities.
The
first
is
the
question
of
how
ethnicity
and
the
identities
of
those
in
ethnic
communities
fare
under
circumstances
of
the
commodification
of
their
places
and
practices
for
the
consumption
of
outsiders.
Thus,
Collins
(2007)
is
concerned,
in
Sydney,
at
the
manner
in
which
repeated
redevelopments
of
that
city’s
ethnic
precincts
may
render
those
places
illegitimate
and
inauthentic
in
the
eyes
of
the
ethnic
community
supposedly
being
represented
by
the
precinct.
(This
line
of
concern,
which
centres
on
the
importance
of
retaining
and
recognizing
ethnic
communities,
is
one
critiqued
by
Amin
(2012).)
Many
other
researchers
(for
example
Shaw
et
al.
(2004)
in
London,
Chang
(2000a)
in
Singapore
and
Conforti
(1996)
and
Zukin
et
al.
(2009)
in
New
York)
express
concerns
at
the
impacts
of
rising
prices
for
small
businesspeople
and
for
local
co-ethnic
consumers,
in
ethnically
identified
commercial
pre-
cincts
being
developed
or
gentrified
for
outside
visitors.
In
gentrifying
areas
in
which
poor
residents
or
business-
owners,
in
many
places
people
of
minority
or
immigrant
background,
lose
housing
and
social
networks,
as
well
as
shopping
facilities
and
business
premises
they
could
afford,
this
is
of
great
concern,
especially
when
public
policies
seem
to
encourage
such
an
outcome
(Newman
&
Wyly,
2006).
There
are
longstanding
anxieties
about
the
redevelopment
of
lower-income
urban
neighbour-
hoods,
which
raise
the
question
of
whether
planning
practices
perform
better
at
preparing
the
conditions
for
initial
redevelopment
than
ensuring
the
sustainability
of
those
places
for
existing
residents
and
businesses
(if
indeed
such
sustainability
is
at
all
the
intention
of
planning
in
such
circumstances).
The
second
issue
about
the
commodification
of
ethnicity
and
race
in
the
entrepreneurial
city
relates
to
the
allocation
of
priorities
by
those
engaged
in
planning
and
their
capacity
to
make
these
priorities
influential
in
their
collaborations
with
other
institutional
and
com-
munity-based
actors.
Planning
is
one
part
of
the
strategic
endeavours
at
local
and
other
scales
to
make
cities
better
places.
Planners
are
included
in
alliances
formed
to
promote
urban
redevelopment,
and
may
participate
there
as
representatives
from
public
or
private
sector
institutions
or
community
organizations.
In
this
broad
task,
certain
goals
may
be
given
more
priority
than
others
at
certain
times.
So,
is
planning,
and
are
planners,
asserting
their
time-honoured
goals
for
redistribution
and
recognition
in
the
economic
and
political
debates
about
futures
in
their
localities
–
or
are
they
silent
or
being
silenced?
In
the
literature
the
precise
role
of
planners
in
the
teams
of
players
concerned
with
the
regeneration
and
betterment
of
cities
is
not
always
clear.
In
New
York,
Fainstein
and
Powers
(2007)
identify
two
prevalent
views
about
tourism
developments
and
their
relevance
to
ethnic
diversity
in
that
city.
On
the
one
hand,
there
is
criticism
of
local
government’s
directing
its
resources
to
central
areas
and
big
corporations
rather
than
to
suburban
locations
and
smaller
entrepreneurs
there.
On
the
other
hand,
there
is
concern
that
investing
in
those
suburban
areas
of
smaller
business
may
over-
commercialize
community
endeavours
(the
point
made
by
Collins
(2007)
about
Sydney).
Fainstein
and
Powers
(2007)
align
firmly
with
the
view
that
government
investment
should
not
primarily
be
directed
at
central
R.
Fincher
et
al.
/
Progress
in
Planning
92
(2014)
1–5534

areas
and
big
corporations,
and
that
it
is
far
worse
to
exclude
minority
groups
than
to
avoid
them
for
fear
of
commodification.
Their
question
is
how
place-based
tourism
can
contribute
to
community
wellbeing
–
and
they
suggest
that
this
can
be
planned
for.
The
role
of
planning
and
planners
in
the
social
transformation
of
city
neighbourhoods
to
make
them
inclusive,
has
been
remarked
by
Sandercock
(2003,
chap.
7),
who
argues
that
the
presence
of
an
individual
planner
in
a
local
place
is
not
sufficient
to
sustain
a
process
for
change
towards
greater
urban
inclusion.
Rather,
she
finds
that
institutional
settings
need
to
be
established
that
support
the
proposed
transformation.
‘These
include
new
ideas
about
economic
development,
new
discourses
about
identity
and
belonging,
new
sources
of
funding
for
community-based
programmes,
new
institutional
arrangements
within
city
council,
and
between
city
council
and
the
variety
of
ethno-cultural
capital
networks.
All
of
this
might
be
thought
of
as
planning
work,
but
not
all
of
it
is
done
by
planners.
Some
of
it
is
done
by
politicians,
some
by
residents
and
community
organizations,
some
by
combinations
of
these
acting
together.’
(Sandercock,
2003,
p.
178–179).
Recommen-
dations
and
stories
are
urgently
required
about
how
individual
planners,
working
together
with
others
from
institutions
and
communities
to
advance
entrepreneuri-
alism
in
the
city,
can
ensure
that
their
values
and
priorities
are
heard.
5.
Multiculturalism
and
the
urban
public
realm:
sites/sights
of
difference
In
this
section
we
consider
how
urban
planning,
in
its
various
guises,
has
responded
to
the
ethnic
diversity
of
cities
through
regulating
and
(re)making
the
urban
public
realm.
The
urban
public
realm,
which
is
both
a
material
or
physical
space
in
which
encounters
across
difference
take
place
and
a
political
forum
through
which
claims
concerning
the
nature
and
possibilities
of
that
lived
difference
are
articulated,
is
of
key
significance
for
our
discussion
of
planning
in
multi-
cultural
cities,
As
with
urban
housing
markets
and
urban
economies,
the
urban
public
realm
is
a
context
through
which
the
global,
the
national
and
local
come
together,
impinging
upon
one
another
in
all
sorts
of
ways.
As
has
been
noted
in
earlier
sections,
‘multi-
culturalism’
is
simultaneously:
a
demographic
reality
to
which
planners
must
respond
in
light
of
national
immigration
settings
and
urban
concentrations
of
ethnic
minorities
and
newly
arrived
migrants;
a
kind
of
policy
framework
which
some
national
and
urban
authorities
have
adopted
in
response
to
this
reality,
and;
a
philosophy
mobilized
by
various
state
and
non-state
actors
in
order
to
frame
and
legitimate
their
political
claims.
As
we
shall
see,
disputes
over
the
making
of
the
urban
public
realm
involve
a
complex
jostling
of
these
different
registers
and
meanings
of
multiculturalism.
We
will
consider
three
key
ways
in
which
planners
have
sought
to
navigate
these
complexities,
through:
1.
the
planning
and
production
of
urban
landscapes
–
in
this
case,
we
consider
planning
interventions
relating
to
structures
of
religious
observance;
2.
the
planning
and
regulation
of
public
space
–
in
this
case,
we
consider
the
regulation
of
informal
street
trading
by
immigrant
traders;
3.
the
promotion
of
encounter
and
contact
among
different
ethnic
groups
–
in
this
case,
we
focus
especially
on
multicultural
festivals.
Across
each
of
these
domains,
we
ask:
how
has
the
‘public
interest’
been
conceptualized
and
acted
upon
by
planners
in
their
efforts
to
regulate
and
remake
the
public
realm
in
cities
characterized
by
a
diversity
of
publics?
5.1.
Planning
and
the
production
of
urban
landscapes:
contests
over
mosques
and
eruvim
in
multicultural
cities
In
the
course
of
everyday
lives
characterized
by
transnational
ties,
ethnic
minority
and
migrant
com-
munities
frequently
‘insert
their
belonging’
in
urban
neighbourhoods
through
place-making
activities
that
contribute
to
change
in
urban
landscapes
(Ehrkamp,
2005).
These
changes
to
urban
landscapes
made
by
ethnic
minority
and
migrant
communities
often
give
rise
to
debate
and
conflict,
precisely
because
landscapes
‘‘help
to
constitute
community
values,
playing
a
central
role
in
the
performance
of
place-based
social
identities
and
distinction’’
(Duncan
&
Duncan,
2001).
Migrant
communities
seeking
to
establish
themselves
in
new
cities
‘‘establish
collective,
cultural
expressions
of
their
identity
in
places
of
worship,
commercial
environ-
ments,
recreational
facilities,
and
community
centres’’
(Isin
&
Siemiatycki,
2002,
p.
197).
Here,
then,
the
politics
of
identity
and
citizenship
intersect
with
the
production
of
urban
landscapes
and
public
spaces,
and
planning
is
crucial
to
this
process.
Those
seeking
to
create,
modify,
or
reject
elements
of
the
built
environment
must
of
necessity
engage
with
the
planning
system
of
their
city.
And
so
the
question
arises:
how
do
planners
respond,
and
whose
interests
do
they
serve
in
such
disputes?
Where
planners
claim
to
act
as
neutral
R.
Fincher
et
al.
/
Progress
in
Planning
92
(2014)
1–55
35

arbiters
of
these
competing
interests,
do
the
planning
frameworks
which
guide
their
practice
actually
serve
to
marginalize
systematically
the
interests
of
ethnic
minorities
and
migrant
groups?
What
styles
of
architecture,
what
cultures
of
retailing,
what
practices
of
worship,
what
habits
of
public
sociality,
are
considered
‘normal’
in
existing
planning
frameworks
which
regulate
neighbourhood
land
use,
from
zone
plans
to
ordinances
regulating
behaviour
in
public
space?
In
many
land
use
conflicts,
critics
have
been
concerned
that
technical
planning
criteria
are
mobilized
by
opponents
who
are
motivated
by
more
than
a
concern
for
parking
spaces.
Particular
sites
have
tended
to
become
objects
of
contention
and
debate
in
this
contested
politics
of
place-
making
and
landscape
change.
This
section
will
examine
the
role
of
planning
instruments
in
conflicts
over
such
sites:
to
what
extent
have
such
instruments
worked
to
reinforce
some
dominant
groups’
claims
to
‘host’
status
premised
on
their
ethnic
identities,
and
to
what
extent
have
such
instruments
been
successfully
reformed
to
open
up
a
more
democratic
politics
of
belonging
in
which
no
group
is
presumed
to
have
a
naturalized
claim
to
turf?
To
examine
this
issue,
we
focus
on
how
planners
have
responded
to
the
creation
of
structures
of
religious
observance
associated
with
ethnic
minority
populations:
mosques
and
eruvim.
While
religious
diversity
in
cities
is
not
strictly
equivalent
with
ethnic
diversity,
of
course
these
two
forms
of
diversity
are
strongly
related.
Religious
beliefs
and
practices
are
frequently
bound
up
with
the
prevailing
norms
of
national
identity,
even
in
societies
where
there
is
formal
separation
of
church
and
state.
When
the
religious
beliefs
and
practices
of
migrants
do
not
conform
to
these
prevailing
religious
norms,
the
‘difference’
introduced
by
migrants
has
often
been
associated
with
their
religious
affiliation.
As
such,
it
is
not
surprising
that
religion
often
features
in
the
contested
politics
of
identity
and
citizenship
in
multi-
cultural
cities.
Contentious
debates
may
emerge
about
a
range
of
issues,
from
styles
of
dress
and
sociality
associated
with
particular
religions
to
the
establishment
of
places
of
worship.
In
disputes
over
places
of
worship
and
religious
structures
and
practices
in
particular,
urban
planners
are
obviously
key
protagonists,
with
proponents
and
opponents
of
new
structures
seeking
to
influence
the
granting
of
planning
permissions.
Islamic
mosques
and
Jewish
eruvim
are
among
the
religious
structures
that
have
been
contentious
in
many
cities
in
recent
years.
While
proposals
to
develop
mosques
are
by
no
means
always
contested,
there
is
nonetheless
a
growing
literature
which
reports
on
instances
of
conflict
over
their
location
in
European,
North
American
and
Australasian
cities.
There
is
also
a
smaller
but
no
less
interesting
literature
on
conflicts
over
eruvim
(Cooper,
1996;
Siemiatycki,
2005;
Watson,
2005).
In
this
section,
we
consider
some
case
studies
of
conflicts
over
such
structures,
and
examine
the
roles
played
by
planners
and
planning
frameworks
in
generating
and
influencing
these
conflicts.
In
nations
where
there
has
been
substantial
migration
of
Muslims
from
certain
parts
of
the
Middle
East,
Africa
and
Asia,
those
communities
have
typically
tended
to
live
in
cities.
Gradually,
many
migrant
Muslim
communities
have
sought
to
establish
mosques
in
those
cities
–
not
only
as
spaces
for
worship,
but
also
as
spaces
of
community
and
belonging.
Indeed,
these
more
public
and
civic
purposes
are
crucial
to
understanding
the
desire
for
mosque
establishment.
Mosques,
in
other
words,
are
visible
manifestations
of
Muslim
commu-
nities,
for
Muslims
and
non-Muslims
alike
–
Muslim
migrants
are
seeking
to
establish
a
physical
and
symbolic
space
in
the
urban
public
realm,
through
which
they
can
build
their
own
community
and
gain
recognition
of
their
presence
from
the
wider
community
(Cesari,
2005;
Isin
&
Siemiatycki,
2002).
In
Toronto,
several
notable
applications
for
planning
approval
to
establish
mosques,
either
through
the
retrofitting
of
existing
buildings
or
the
construction
of
new
buildings,
have
been
initially
rejected
by
City
planning
authorities
in
acrimonious
disputes.
Isin
and
Siemiatycki
(2002)
describe
the
struggles
to
establish
the
Talim-Ul-Islam
mosque
in
a
designated
‘employ-
ment
zone’
in
the
North
York
municipality,
and
a
mosque
proposed
by
the
Canadian
Islamic
Trust
Foundation
in
Mississauga
municipality.
In
these
two
cases,
mosques
were
proposed
for
abandoned
or
vacant
spaces
in
industrial
zones.
In
both
cases,
applications
were
initially
rejected
by
municipal
planners
on
technical
grounds:
issues
such
as
proximity
to
industry
and
other
places
of
worship,
parking,
and
land-use
(in
which
certain
zones
were
to
be
set
aside
as
‘employ-
ment
zones’).
In
a
third
case,
in
1996
City
planners
initially
approved
a
proposal
to
expand
the
El-Noor
mosque,
which
had
been
established
a
decade
earlier
through
the
purchase
and
renovation
of
a
disused
Protestant
Church
in
a
residential
neighbourhood.
This
approval
was
appealed
by
a
group
of
85
residents
who
pooled
their
resources
to
challenge
the
decision
at
the
Ontario
Municipal
Board
(OMB),
and
was
further
opposed
by
a
petition
of
250
residents.
At
the
hearings,
opposition
to
the
expansion
was
justified
on
the
grounds
of
both
parking
(that
worshippers’
cars
were
taking
up
residential
spaces
and
sometimes
blocking
driveways
R.
Fincher
et
al.
/
Progress
in
Planning
92
(2014)
1–5536

already),
and
on
the
grounds
that
the
proposed
new
minaret
and
dome
would
change
the
neighbourhood
character
and
population.
The
appeal
was
rejected,
although
minor
modifications
to
the
expansion
plans
were
required.
In
each
of
the
cases,
mosque
proponents
felt
that
they
were
singled
out
for
negative
treatment:
in
the
case
of
the
Talim-Ul-Islam
mosque,
for
example,
while
there
were
three
churches
and
a
Sikh
temple
nearby,
only
the
mosque
was
determined
to
be
an
illegal
use
of
space.
In
each
case,
favourable
decisions
by
the
OMB
vindicated
their
position.
But
it
is
worth
noting
that
mosques
have
not
been
the
only
places
of
worship
to
have
been
denied
planning
permission
in
employ-
ment
zones
in
Toronto
–
Hindu
Temples
and
Baptist
Churches
have
also
been
rejected
on
similar
grounds
(Hackworth
&
Stein,
2012).
Residential
suburbs
in
Sydney
have
also
been
the
site
of
several
acrimonious
disputes
over
the
approval
of
new
mosques
in
recent
decades.
As
in
the
case
of
Toronto,
applications
to
local
planning
authorities
for
the
development
of
mosques
in
the
last
two
decades
have
been
made
against
a
backdrop
of
both
an
official
embrace
of
‘multiculturalism’
as
a
policy
setting
at
the
national
scale
and
on-going
tensions
over
the
nature
and
extent
of
this
embrace,
including
post
9/11
stigmatisations
of
Islam.
In
a
review
of
planning
processes
concerning
11
of
these
mosques,
Dunn
(2001,
2005)
notes
that
opponents
to
mosques
frequently
appealed
to
local
authorities
to
reject
permission
on
the
grounds
that
the
Muslim
desire
for
‘cultural
maintenance’
was
‘divisive’
and/or
an
imposition
of
‘their
values’
on
‘us’
that
would
attract
concentrations
of
Muslim
migrants
to
the
surrounding
residential
areas.
In
an
earlier
study,
he
noted
that
concerns
about
the
effects
of
a
mosque
in
the
western
suburb
of
Fairfield
were
expressed
in
terms
such
‘foothold’,
‘intrusion’,
‘enclave’,
‘occupied’,
‘over-
whelmed’
and
‘takeover’
(Dunn,
2001,
p.
298).
For
Dunn,
such
concerns
‘‘constructed
the
nation
and
locality
as
non-Muslim
(Christian)
and
generated
a
sense
of
threat
or
loss
for
residents’’
(Dunn,
2001,
p.
298).
One
of
the
key
points
to
take
out
of
Dunn’s
studies
of
mosque
development
conflicts
in
Sydney
is
that
even
where
the
decision-making
processes
of
local
autho-
rities
are
restricted
to
technical
concerns
about
land-use
such
as
parking,
congestion,
noise,
and
even
‘char-
acter’,
their
decisions
are
made
in
the
context
of
wider
public
discussions
in
which
other
arguments
hold
sway.
So,
for
instance,
even
if
a
given
Council
cannot
be
explicitly
anti-Muslim,
Council
officers
frequently
cited
the
extent
of
community
opposition
to
a
new
mosque
as
a
factor
in
their
decision-making.
Of
course,
mosques
are
not
the
only
religious
structures
that
have
been
the
subject
of
planning
disputes.
Proposals
to
establish
Jewish
eruvim
in
cities
like
London,
Toronto,
New
York
and
Sydney
have
also
become
flashpoints
in
the
urban
politics
of
identity
and
ethnicity.
For
observant
Jews,
the
transfer
of
objects
between
the
enclosed
private
domain
and
the
public
domain
is
not
permitted
on
Sabbath
days.
The
eruv
is
a
ritual
enclosure
that
merges
these
different
kinds
of
domain
for
Jews
on
the
Sabbath,
thereby
allowing
them
to
transfer
objects
including
everyday
necessities
like
house
keys,
wheelchairs,
walking
canes
and
frames,
prams,
and
the
like
outside
their
home
while
within
the
boundaries
established
by
an
eruv.
Eruvim,
then,
are
particularly
important
for
the
elderly,
the
disabled,
and
parents
of
small
children,
who
may
be
confined
to
their
homes
on
the
Sabbath
if
they
are
observant
of
traditional
Jewish
law.
Eruvim
can
make
use
of
existing
boundaries
in
the
landscape
–
such
as
a
line
of
houses
on
a
street
or
existing
electricity
and
telephone
wires
–
to
establish
the
boundaries
of
the
symbolic
enclosure.
Where
the
existing
landscape
does
not
provide
an
unbroken
enclosure,
the
eruv
requires
the
installation
of
further
poles
and/or
wires
(which
can
include
even
relatively
unobtrusive
material
such
as
nylon
fishing
wire).
The
construction
of
eruvim
frequently
typically
requires
the
permission
of
planning
authorities
–
as
necessitated
both
by
Jewish
law,
and
also
by
restrictions
on
third
party
uses
of
urban
infrastructure
such
as
telegraph
poles
which
frequently
form
part
of
an
eruv.
Compared
to
the
mosques
discussed
above
and
other
religious
structures,
then,
eruvim
are
relatively
‘invisible’
–
they
are
indeed
material
structures,
but
are
largely
estab-
lished
through
symbolic
investment
in
existing
(infra)-
structures
rather
than
through
the
creation
of
new
structures.
Watson
(2005)
provides
an
account
of
the
decade-
long
dispute
over
the
establishment
of
an
eruv
in
Barnet,
a
neighbourhood
in
North
London.
While
this
11
mile
long
eruv
made
use
of
existing
infrastructure
for
most
of
its
boundary,
it
required
the
installation
of
80
new
poles
in
the
public
domain,
which
would
carry
a
1000
yard
length
of
fishing
wire
0.3
mm
thick.
An
initial
application
to
Barnet
Council
to
establish
this
eruv
in
1992
with
the
installation
of
poles
and
wires
was
‘‘rejected
on
the
grounds
that
the
poles
and
wire
were
visually
obtrusive
and
constituted
unnecessary
street
furniture
which
was
detrimental
to
the
character
and
appearance
of
the
street’’
(Watson,
2005,
p.
604).
After
two
subsequent
modified
applications
were
also
rejected
by
the
Council,
the
decisions
were
appealed
to
the
Department
of
Environment
Court,
which
in
1994
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et
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92
(2014)
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37

overturned
Council’s
rejection
of
the
eruv
and
required
it
to
grant
permission,
on
the
basis
that
Council
had
no
good
reason
to
reject
the
eruv.
For
the
next
eight
years,
‘‘all
sorts
of
planning,
legal,
and
other
devices
were
deployed
to
delay
the
construction
of
the
eruv,
with
continuing
protests
from
the
eruv
objectors,
and
stalling
by
Barnet
Council’’.
Permission
was
finally
granted
in
2002.
In
the
conflict
over
the
eruv,
voices
were
raised
against
the
eruv
for
several
reasons
beyond
these
technical
issues.
Some
residents
worried
about
an
influx
of
Orthodox
Jews
into
the
neighbourhood
should
the
eruv
be
established,
others
worried
about
the
potential
impact
on
property
prices,
yet
others
worried
that
structures
associated
with
the
eruv
would
attract
hateful
forms
of
vandalism.
Several
complainants
argued
that
the
eruv
would
undermine
the
‘character’
of
the
area,
which
was
one
of
England’s
first
‘garden
suburbs’.
Importantly,
however,
Watson
also
notes
that
in
the
case
of
this
particular
eruv
(as
with
others
in
the
United
States),
Jewish
voices
were
not
united
in
their
support
for
the
eruv.
Jewish
critiques
ranged
from
non-Orthodox
concerns
that
the
eruv
would
create
a
kind
of
ghetto
for
Jews
and/or
strain
relations
between
Jews
and
others
in
the
community,
to
religious
concerns
that
eruvim
in
fact
breach
the
strict
requirements
of
the
Sabbath.
Also
of
interest
for
our
purposes
is
that
some
concerns
about
the
eruv
in
Barnet
were
expressed
through
the
conceptual
frame
of
the
public–private
distinction.
While
the
neighbourhood
already
had
countless
poles
and
other
pieces
of
infrastructure
in
the
public
domain
that
were
also
visually
obtrusive,
they
were
conceived
to
be
for
the
purely
functional
and
‘public’
benefit
of
all
(providing
light,
phone,
elec-
tricity,
etc.).
The
eruv
poles,
by
contrast,
had
symbolic
function
and
were
problematized
by
many
on
the
grounds
that
they
were
for
the
‘private’
and
sectional
interests
of
traditional
Jews.
For
Watson,
this
conflict
over
the
Barnet
eruv
‘‘sharply
expose[s]
some
of
the
limits
of
living
with
difference
and
normative
versions
of
multiculturalism
in
the
city’’
(2005,
p.
597).
As
with
the
analysis
of
mosque
developments,
Watson
is
also
critical
of
the
notion
that
rejections
of
the
eruv
on
technical
grounds
were
somehow
‘objective’.
In
her
view,
‘‘discourses
of
opposition
which
draw
on
legal
or
official
arguments
can
often
mask
a
more
profound
resistance
from
the
dominant
culture
(in
this
instance,
White
Anglo-Saxon
Protestant)
to
‘Otherness’
which
is
little
more
than
thinly
veiled
racism
(in
this
case,
anti-Semitism)’’
(2005,
p.
598).
Of
particular
concern
to
her
was
the
implicit
notion
of
objectors
that
religious
‘difference’
is
fine,
so
long
as
it
expressed
privately
and
does
not
depend
on
or
demand
public
recognition
and
expres-
sion.
We
want
to
draw
two
key
points
out
of
this
discussion
of
planning
conflicts
over
the
urban
land-
scape
associated
with
mosques
and
eruvim.
First,
in
no
case
discussed
here
has
the
planning
system
adjudicated
on
requests
to
develop
new
religious
structures
based
on
the
ethnicity
or
religion
of
the
applicants.
However,
it
is
clear
that
the
technical
criteria
on
which
decisions
are
made
–
concerning
a
range
of
factors
from
parking
and
noise
to
neighbourhood
character
and
economic
development
–
are
not
‘neutral’
when
it
comes
to
ethnicity
and
religion.
Here,
planning
must
be
under-
stood
as
political,
in
the
sense
that
all
technical
planning
instruments
are
designed
to
produce
and
reproduce
particular
kinds
of
places
–
there
can
be
no
planning
without
an
answer
to
the
inherently
political
question:
what
kind
of
place
should
this
street/suburb/city
be?
As
such,
the
notion
that
disputes
over
the
construction
or
installation
of
religious
structures
are
best
settled
through
‘impartial’
application
of
‘objective’
planning
criteria
is
a
problematic
claim
indeed.
Gale’s
(2004)
study
of
mosque
developments
in
Birmingham
which
have
been
actively
embraced
by
planners
is
instructive
here.
Birmingham
now
conceives
of
itself
as
a
multicultural
city
characterized
by
ethnic
and
religious
diversity.
As
such,
a
mosque
is
not
‘out
of
character’
per
se.
This
is
not
to
say
that
any
new
mosque
in
Birmingham
will
not
raise
issues
such
as
parking,
or
that
some
residents
and
businesses
will
not
make
the
case
that
a
mosque
is
‘out
of
character’
with
their
perception
of
a
neighbourhood.
But
the
official
embrace
of
multiculturalism
has
extended
to
a
rethinking
of
technical
planning
criteria
concerning
a
range
of
issues,
from
the
apparently
banal
such
as
parking
and
even
the
colour
of
telegraph
poles
to
more
significant
issues
of
neighbourhood
character
and
land-use
planning.
Second,
the
complex
politics
of
the
public–private
distinction
also
come
into
play
in
these
disputes
over
religion
in
the
diverse
city.
This
distinction
is
mobilized
in
quite
different
ways
in
the
examples
above.
The
official
denial
of
planning
permission
to
mosques
and
other
places
of
worship
in
employment
zones
in
Toronto
was
justified
in
the
wider
‘public
interest’,
with
jobs
being
prioritized
over
people’s
implicitly
‘private’
beliefs
in
some
form
of
religion.
In
Sydney,
opponents
of
mosques
argued
that
local
authorities
who
had
approved
mosques
had
given
in
to
the
influence
of
‘sectional
interests’,
as
against
an
ethno-nationalist
concept
of
the
‘public
interest’.
In
Birmingham,
on
the
other
hand,
mosques
were
approved
on
the
grounds
that
R.
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et
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/
Progress
in
Planning
92
(2014)
1–5538

it
would
bring
places
of
worship
out
of
informal,
‘private’
spaces
of
the
home
and
into
the
public
world
of
planning
ordinances
and
approvals.
In
Barnet,
part
of
the
opposition
to
the
eruv
stemmed
from
the
notion
that
religious
practices
could
be
tolerated
so
long
as
they
remained
matters
of
private
interest
and
were
conducted
in
private
places.
The
installation
of
structures
on
streets,
on
the
other
hand,
could
only
be
tolerated
by
some
if
they
were
installed
for
everyone’s
benefit,
i.e.
for
‘the
public’
as
the
social
totality.
Reflecting
on
this
in
the
context
of
our
wider
discussion
of
the
‘sites
and
sights’
of
difference,
it
is
interesting
to
note
that
while
the
visibility
(and
indeed
audibility)
of
structures
like
mosques
associated
with
religious
and
ethnic
minorities
is
frequently
at
issue,
this
is
not
the
only
source
of
contention.
The
eruv,
in
contrast
to
the
mosque,
is
relatively
‘invisible’
(and
silent),
mostly
making
use
of
existing
urban
infra-
structure
and
involving
at
most
a
few
extra
poles
and
wires
–
and
yet
as
Watson
(2005)
notes,
even
these
minor
changes
sometimes
cause
controversy.
And
in
contrast
to
both
of
these
instances,
in
some
cases
such
as
Birmingham
it
is
the
invisibility
of
religious
and
ethnic
minorities,
rather
than
their
visibility,
that
has
been
problematized
by
planners.
This
is
precisely
because
the
planning
of
cities
and
the
policing
of
their
populations
depends
on
the
capacity
of
planners
and
other
authorities
to
see
as
much
as
possible.
In
the
case
of
Birmingham
above,
we
see
planners
preferring
to
approve
mosques
in
order
to
bring
Muslim
gatherings
out
‘into
the
open’
rather
than
have
them
taking
place
in
the
relative
invisibility
of
domestic
living
rooms
or
shops.
This
dynamic
is
also
in
play
currently
in
Toronto,
where
planners
are
on
the
one
hand
encouraging
religious
groups
who
are
currently
gathering
in
sites
like
abandoned
warehouses
to
seek
planning
approvals
where
these
sites
have
not
been
approved
as
places
of
worship.
And
yet,
when
applications
are
rejected,
this
has
the
potential
to
push
those
groups
back
into
sites
where
they
do
not
have
to
engage
with
the
formal
planning
system.
It
seems,
then,
that
it
is
not
simply
the
visibility
and/
or
audibility
of
religious
structures
that
is
the
root
of
the
issue
here,
but
their
publicness
–
and
that
publicness
may
take
a
variety
of
forms.
That
is,
the
question
of
whether
or
not
a
structure
(be
it
a
highly
visible
mosque
or
an
relatively
invisible
eruv)
should
be
permitted
hinges
on
the
politics
of
public
recognition
–
to
approve
such
structures
is
to
grant
a
particular
group
a
form
of
legitimacy
and
rights
which
their
opponents
seek
to
deny,
often
on
nationalist
and/or
racist
grounds.
In
reflecting
on
the
mosque
conflict
in
East
York,
Toronto,
Isin
and
Siemiatycki
(2002,
p.
189)
argue
that
‘‘the
issues
in
the
struggle
were
deeper
than
finding
a
place
of
worship
to
practice
religious
freedoms
and
faith;
they
also
involved
the
articulation
of
Muslim
groups
in
a
way
that
recognized
their
presence
both
symbolically
and
spatially’’.
Precisely
because
there
is
a
symbolic
as
well
as
a
material
dimension
to
spatial
change
associated
with
the
claims
of
migrant
religious
groups,
attempts
by
planners
to
duck
ethno-nationalist
complaints
about
new
religious
structures
associated
with
migrant
groups
by
suggesting
that
decisions
are
only
technical
matters
are
highly
problematic
and
reinforce
a
normalized
whiteness.
Even
where
the
technical
and/or
legal
planning
framework
cannot
admit
arguments
on
questions
of
neighbourhood
‘feel’
or
‘character’,
this
is
precisely
what
these
struggles
are
about.
Those
opposing
non-
Christian
religious
structures
in
the
disputes
discussed
above
frequently
define
the
‘feel’
or
‘character’
in
ethno-nationalist
terms,
asserting
that
mosques
or
eruvs
are
unwelcome
foreign
intrusions
that
are
‘out
of
place’.
5.2.
Planning
and
the
policing
of
public
space:
informal
street
trading
As
with
changes
to
the
urban
landscape
discussed
above,
the
presence
of
new
migrant
cultures
in
public
spaces
is
often
registered
by
dominant
groups
in
the
form
of
sights
(from
bodies
and
dress
through
to
shop
signs,
places
of
worship,
community
services,
etc.),
smells
(restaurants,
grocery
shops),
and
sounds
(lan-
guages
spoken,
music)
that
do
not
conform
to
existing
ethno-nationalist
norms
and
are
thereby
‘Othered’.
As
such,
public
spaces
have
become
both
sites
and
objects
of
the
urban
politics
of
identity
and
citizenship
associated
with
multiculturalism.
As
an
expanding
body
of
literature
since
the
1990s
has
argued,
public
spaces
in
cities
the
world
over
seem
increasingly
inhospitable
to
those
who
are
‘Othered’
with
respect
to
dominant
cultural
and
classed
norms
of
behaviour
(Mitchell,
2003;
Smith
&
Low,
2006).
Punitive
forms
of
policing
and
regulation
have
become
common-place
in
cities
where
‘the
community’
is
said
to
be
threatened
by
the
‘anti-social
behaviour’
of
those
who
are
unwilling
or
unable
to
conform
to
community
norms.
Where
liberal
forms
of
urban
governance
may
have
sought
to
ameliorate
such
conflicts
through
integrationist
social
programmes,
in
neoliberalising
cities
such
ameliorative
measures
are
giving
way
to
punitive
social
control
measures
(Dean,
2002;
Rose,
2000).
The
‘broken
windows’
thesis
has
come
to
be
particularly
influential
in
justifying
such
measures
R.
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et
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in
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(2014)
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39

(Mitchell,
2003).
The
thesis
is
based
on
the
premise
that
law
and
order
efforts
ought
to
focus
on
the
small-scale
normative
infractions
because
‘‘serious
street
crime
flourishes
in
areas
in
which
disorderly
behaviour
goes
unchecked’’
(Wilson
&
Kelling,
1982).
Broken
win-
dows
are
a
problem,
then,
because
‘‘one
unrepaired
window
sends
a
signal
that
no
one
cares,
and
so
breaking
more
windows
costs
nothing’’
(Wilson
&
Kelling,
1982,
p.
31).
As
such,
minor
infractions
to
existing
norms
cannot
be
tolerated,
because
they
are
said
to
give
rise
to
a
vicious
cycle
of
urban
decline.
Not
surprisingly,
when
urban
authorities
conceive
of
their
cities
as
subject
to
competition
for
residents,
tourists
and
investors,
they
are
anxious
not
to
risk
such
decline.
In
cities
where
difference
is
often
equated
with
deviance,
the
aesthetic
differences
introduced
into
urban
life
by
immigrant
(and
other
minority)
groups
can
easily
become
the
target
of
punitive
social
control
measures
informed
by
the
broken
windows
thesis.
Many
of
the
policing
operations
associated
with
the
anti-social
behaviour
agenda
and
‘zero
tolerance’
–
such
as
public
space
‘sweeps’
which
make
use
of
new
‘stop-and-
search’
or
‘move-on’
powers
to
clamp
down
on
‘anti-
social
behaviour’
–
have
been
accused
of
unfairly
profiling
and
targeting
ethnic-minority
young
people.
However,
while
the
regulation
of
urban
public
spaces
is
typically
a
matter
for
the
police,
the
police
are
often
required
to
enforce
planning
ordinances
which
seek
to
regulate
behaviour
through
the
codification
of
place-
based
rules
and
restrictions.
Contests
over
the
policing
of
informal
trading
on
the
streets
of
many
cities
therefore
provide
an
excellent
example
of
how
the
planning
of
urban
public
spaces
becomes
caught
up
in
the
wider
politics
of
multicultural
citizenship.
Depending
on
the
context
and
jurisdiction,
the
use
of
streets
and
other
public
spaces
for
trading
can
come
into
conflict
with
a
range
of
regulations,
from
land-use
planning
and
zoning
to
occupational
health
and
safety,
taxation,
labour
and
consumer
standards
(Cross,
2000).
Historically,
planning
regimes
have
tended
to
view
informal
and
unlicensed
trading
in
public
space
as
a
problem,
precisely
because
it
challenges
the
efforts
of
planners
to
control
the
way
in
which
those
spaces
are
used.
As
in
the
case
of
planning
and
regulating
structures
of
religious
observance,
the
regulation
of
street
trading
takes
on
a
particular
political
inflection
in
multicultural
cities.
For
many
immigrants
and
poor
ethnic
minority
communities
seeking
to
establish
themselves
in
cities,
selling
goods
and
services
on
the
street
is
an
important
economic
activity.
This
is
especially
the
case
in
those
wealthy
globalizing
cities
where
the
growth
of
immigration
has
coincided
with
de-industrialisation
and
the
growth
of
informal
economies,
and
also
in
poorer
cities
where
immigration
has
coincided
with
economic
structural
adjustment
including
the
decline
of
subsistence
agriculture
and
privatization.
Street
traders
take
advantage
of
public
space
in
order
to
minimize
overhead
costs
like
rent,
utilities
and
planning
approvals
(Cross,
2000).
Further,
as
Bhowmik
(2005)
makes
clear,
there
is
not
only
growing
demand
for
the
kind
of
informal
work
offered
by
street
trading,
but
also
for
the
kinds
of
cheap
goods
and
services
provided
by
the
street
traders.
As
such,
the
regulation
of
trading
on
a
popular
corner
or
traffic
island
through
planning
and
policing
can
have
profound
implications
for
the
economic
opportunities
of
immigrants.
Given
the
significance
of
street
trading
and
other
informal
economic
activities
for
immigrant
commu-
nities
in
some
cities,
attempts
to
restrict
or
eradicate
those
activities
through
planning
codes
which
‘zone
them
out’
will
exacerbate
the
political
and
economic
exclusion
of
some
immigrant
communities.
Such
restrictions
often
generate
political
counter-claims
from
migrant
groups,
who
assert
their
rights
to
trade
on
the
street
as
a
crucial
citizenship
right.
Attempts
to
‘stamp
out’
street
trading,
from
the
perspective
of
the
street
traders
and
their
customers,
are
experienced
as
attacks
on
their
identity
and
culture
as
well
as
their
economic
opportunities,
even
when
no
explicit
reference
is
made
to
the
ethnicity
of
traders.
But
of
course,
explicit
reference
is
often
made
to
the
ethnicity
of
traders
by
their
critics,
who
sometimes
frame
the
highly
visible
presence
of
immigrant
street
traders
in
public
as
an
unwelcome
change
to
the
character
of
an
urban
neighbourhood.
Such
critics
have
frequently
turned
to
the
planning
system
as
a
tool
to
‘protect’
their
neighbourhoods
from
street
traders
perceived
to
be
introducing
foreign
and
unwelcome
sights,
sounds,
smells
and
socialities
into
the
streets.
We
now
turn
to
two
examples,
to
explore
how
tensions
over
street
trading
have
arisen
and
been
addressed
in
Los
Angeles
and
Singapore.
In
Los
Angeles,
where
street
trading
emerged
as
one
of
the
most
visible
informal
economic
activities,
the
place
of
immigrant
street
traders
in
public
space
has
been
a
contentious
issue
for
several
decades.
Some
of
these
traders
were
undocumented
migrants,
selling
fruit
on
the
streets
for
poor
pay
in
order
to
reimburse
debts
to
those
who
facilitated
their
passage
into
the
United
States
from
Mexico
(Crawford,
1995).
Yet
others
were
using
street
trading
as
a
form
of
economic
mobility,
using
resources
generated
in
the
informal
sector
to
supplement
or
substitute
income
earned
from
low
wage
R.
Fincher
et
al.
/
Progress
in
Planning
92
(2014)
1–5540

jobs
and/or
as
a
step
towards
establishing
more
formal
enterprises
(Crawford,
1995;
Weber,
2001).
For
many
immigrant
women,
street
trading
also
served
as
an
economic
activity
that
could
be
independently
orga-
nized
around
caring
commitments
(Crawford,
1995;
Weber,
2001).
The
growth
of
street
trading
in
Los
Angeles
gradually
generated
resentment,
both
from
shopkeepers
concerned
about
competition,
and
from
existing
residents
for
whom
street
trading
was
one
of
the
more
visible
signs
of
the
growing
Latinisation
of
the
city
(Weber,
2001).
From
the
late
1980s
onwards,
both
police
and
planning
powers
were
mobilized
by
those
seeking
to
remove
traders
(and
others
classed
as
‘disorderly’)
from
the
streets
and
public
spaces
of
the
city.
Multiple,
and
sometimes
violent,
arrests
of
street
traders
said
to
be
in
breach
of
public
space
regulations
generated
a
response
from
traders,
who
formed
the
Asociacion
de
Vendedores
Ambulantes
(AVA)
in
order
to
contest
the
arrests
and
the
City
codes
making
their
activity
illegal
(Crawford,
1995;
Weber,
2001).
By
the
mid-1990s,
proposals
had
been
floated
to
establish
designated
areas
in
the
city
where
street
trading
could
be
legalized
and
regulated.
But
as
Margaret
Crawford
pointed
out
(1995,
p.
6),
such
proposals
were
always
going
to
be
problematic
for
traders
because
they
‘‘restrict
one
of
the
main
advantages
of
vending:
its
flexibility
to
respond
to
changes
in
activity
and
demand.’’
In
any
case,
through
the
claims
and
counter-claims
about
street
trading
in
Los
Angeles,
we
see
how
the
planning
system
becomes
enmeshed
in
the
wider
politics
of
multiculturalism
in
that
city:
by
‘‘defending
their
livelihood,
vendors
are
becoming
a
political
as
well
as
an
economic
presence
in
the
city’’
(Crawford,
1995,
p.
7).
On-going
struggles
to
secure
space
for
Latino/a
street
traders
against
punitive
policing
and
planning
have
indeed
contributed
to
the
wider
politicization
of
that
community
in
Los
Angeles,
culminating
in
massive
political
demonstrations
during
the
2000s.
Meanwhile,
several
scholars
have
argued
that
the
forms
of
urbanism
introduced
into
Los
Angeles
by
Latinos
constitute
an
innovative
form
of
‘do-it-yourself’
urbanism
that
has
converted
dead
and
auto-dominated
spaces
into
more
vibrant
forms
of
public
space
(Rios,
2010;
Rojas,
2010).
In
Singapore,
planning
has
played
quite
a
different
role
in
the
regulation
of
street
trading.
There,
over
the
course
of
several
decades,
the
government
has
introduced
a
licensing
system
for
those
wanting
to
hawk
food
and
other
goods
on
the
streets,
and
constructed
‘hawker
centres’
to
which
street
traders
have
been
relocated.
Compared
to
most
cities
in
Asia
and
beyond,
the
Singaporean
Government
has
been
‘‘highly
interventionist
in
its
management
of
food
hawking.
The
approach
is
an
outcome
of
a
philosophy
and
agenda
shaped
by
the
desire
to
exercise
order
and
control
.
.
.’’
(Henderson,
Yun,
Poon,
&
Xu,
2012,
p.
851).
This
extraordinary
intervention
to
stamp
out
unregulated
food
vending
in
public
space
was
a
highly
symbolic
aspect
of
the
post-World
War
2
modernization
project.
Kong
(2007)
notes
several
reasons
for
the
hostility
shown
by
officials
towards
hawkers
as
early
as
the
1950s:
For
one,
the
activities
of
the
hawkers
conflicted
with
the
goals
of
development,
for
they
were
competing
directly
with
the
modern
sector
for
land
usage.
Another
reason
was
that
Singapore
was
striving
to
be
a
modern
city,
and
the
colonial
administration
regarded
such
small-scale
trading
as
traditional
and
not
in
keeping
with
this
goal.
More
concretely,
hawkers
were
thought
to
be
unhygienic,
linked
as
they
were
with
cholera
and
typhoid
outbreaks
.
.
.
Public
health
aside,
street
hawking
detracted
from
the
functionality
and
efficiency
of
the
city.
Their
higgledy-piggledy
appearance
and
street-side
loca-
tion
lent
a
certain
haphazard
charm
to
the
scene
but
also
contributed
to
the
disorderliness
of
the
streets
and
impeded
traffic
and
pedestrian
flow.
(p.
25–26)
Nonetheless,
not
everyone
shared
the
officials’
hostility.
As
Kong
continues:
‘‘Public
sympathy
was
on
the
side
of
the
hawkers,
popularly
seen
to
be
poor
men
and
women,
committing
no
offence
and
trying
to
earn
an
honest
living.’’
(2007,
p.
26).
The
resulting
report
and
its
recommendations
set
in
train
a
process
that
sought
to
regulate
hawking
rather
than
abolish
it
altogether.
This
process
of
incorporation
of
hawkers,
while
now
relatively
complete,
took
several
decades
and
was
often
fiercely
contested.
Registration
and
relocation
drives
over
the
course
of
the
1950s
and
1960s
had
by
no
means
curbed
street
hawking
by
the
1970s.
From
the
early
1970s
onwards,
crack-downs
on
illegal
hawking
were
accompanied
by
a
large-scale
construction
programme
to
construct
enough
hawker
centres
and
marketplaces
to
accommodate
the
licensed
hawkers.
In
some
cases,
approval
for
new
housing
development
projects
was
made
conditional
on
the
construction
of
hawker
facilities.
In
other
cases,
the
Hawkers
Department
purchased
its
own
land.
These
centres
provided
clean
water,
sewage
and
drainage,
and
power
supply.
Rents
were
highly
subsidized
to
mimic
the
small
start-up
costs
of
street
trading.
Licenses
were
made
conditional
on
participation
in
training
pro-
grammes
on
healthy
food
handling
(Kong,
2007).
R.
Fincher
et
al.
/
Progress
in
Planning
92
(2014)
1–55
41

One
of
the
unanticipated,
but
much
commented-
upon,
outcomes
of
this
programme
has
been
the
spatial
concentration
of
hawkers
from
different
ethnic
back-
grounds
in
hawker
centres,
and
the
forms
of
conviviality
and
encounter
that
now
find
a
home
in
the
centres.
The
centres
have
become
tourist
attractions
in
their
own
right,
and
a
2010
survey
found
that
at
least
50%
of
local
Singaporeans
eat
at
hawker
centres
six
or
more
times
a
week
(Henderson
et
al.,
2012).
The
current
chair
of
the
National
Environment
Agency
in
Singapore
responsible
for
regulating
the
centres
argues
that:
People
from
different
social
and
racial
backgrounds
gather
at
hawker
centres
for
breakfast
in
the
mornings
and
sit
around
in
the
evenings
for
drinks
and
general
chats.
The
atmosphere
in
the
hawker
centres
is
informal
and
relaxed.
It
goes
beyond
a
matter
of
convenience.
Hawker
centres
have
become
informal
gathering
places
for
people
to
meet,
mingle
and
interact.
Over
time,
they
have
become
a
special
element
in
our
society,
part
of
how
we
live,
something
unique
in
Singapore.
(cited
in
Kong,
2007,
p.
91)
While
there
is
no
doubt
truth
to
this
position,
it
risks
glossing
over
the
conflictual
history
of
the
centres.
And
their
future
is
by
no
means
assured.
In
particular,
the
question
of
rents
and
affordability
is
emerging
as
one
of
the
challenges
to
the
nature
of
hawker
centres
in
Singapore.
While
so-called
‘first
generation’
hawkers
who
were
moved
into
the
centres
from
the
streets
in
decades
past
received
subsidized
rents,
those
seeking
new
licenses
to
trade
in
hawker
centres
now
pay
significantly
higher
market
rents
(Kong,
2007).
Not-
withstanding
the
fact
that
market
rates
are
phased
in
gradually,
the
barriers
to
entry
into
‘hawking’
are
increasing
significantly,
thereby
reducing
the
charac-
teristics
that
made
it
viable
for
Chinese
and
other
migrants
in
the
past.
If
policy-makers
now
appreciate
the
unexpected
benefits
of
urban
encounter
associated
with
the
hawker
centres,
then
it
is
important
for
them
to
consider
what
circumstances
contributed
to
this
out-
come
and
what
changes
in
those
circumstances
might
detract
from
it.
As
with
the
discussion
of
religious
structures,
our
analysis
points
to
the
fact
that
the
policing
and
planning
of
street
trading
has
a
political
dimension.
Planners
have
responded
to
disputes
over
street
trading
in
different
ways
in
different
cities.
In
some
cases
they
have
sought
to
resolve
disputes
through
negotiated
compromises
which
seek
to
bring
informal
activities
into
the
formal
economy
through
licensing
and
other
forms
of
spatial
regulation
that
are
in
the
conventional
planning
toolkit.
However,
efforts
by
planners
to
license
street
trading
and
‘formalise’
the
activity
by
giving
it
a
proper
place
risk
undermining
the
very
conditions
that
make
it
attractive
to
some
people
in
the
first
place
(Cross,
2000).
In
other
contexts
where
planners
have
not
taken
such
an
approach,
the
line
between
legality
and
illegality
for
street
traders
is
often
far
from
clear.
In
a
study
of
street
trading
in
New
York
City,
where
the
‘vast
majority’
of
the
city’s
estimated
10,000
street
traders
are
thought
to
be
migrants,
Devlin
(2006)
argues
that
existing
planning
regulations
pertaining
to
street
trading
are
so
compli-
cated
that
both
traders
and
law
enforcement
officials
operate
in
a
heightened
state
of
uncertainty.
For
him,
this
situation
is
open
to
exploitation
by
anti-vending
interests:
Rather
than
establishing
discrete
categories
of
formality/informality,
of
legality/illegality,
the
vend-
ing
laws
in
New
York
City
produce
a
unique
form
of
informality.
It
is
an
informality
that
is
fluid
and
contingent.
This
type
of
informality
is
a
condition
that
can
be
tactically
mobilized
by
anti-vending
interests
in
a
flexible,
decentralized,
and
often
invisible
battle
against
street
vendors.
(Devlin,
2006,
p.
4)
In
other
words,
without
clarity
of
their
rights,
vendors
are
subject
to
intimidation
and
harassment
by
nearby
shop-keepers,
property
holders
and
others,
because
even
the
‘letter
of
the
law’
offers
no
clear
defence
of
their
position.
In
these
circumstances,
as
in
Los
Angeles
where
the
law
is
explicitly
punitive,
immigrant
street
traders
are
only
able
to
secure
space
through
evasion
and
avoidance,
leaving
them
highly
vulnerable
both
economically
and
physically.
Here
again,
the
debates
of
street
vending
challenge
planners
not
only
to
rethink
their
local
regulations,
but
to
rethink
their
visions
of
public
space
more
generally.
As
Cross
(2000,
p.
43)
argues,
for
planners,
‘‘a
good
part
of
the
problem
lies
not
in
the
phenomenon
occurring
in
their
streets,
but
in
their
preconceived
notions
of
the
‘‘appropriate’’
use
of
public
space.’’
The
micropublics
of
positive
urban
encounter
that
are
now
appreciated
by
many
are
difficult
to
create
as
a
formal
part
of
the
regulatory
frameworks
of
planning.
Whether
convivial
encounter
will
occur
and
whether
it
will
be
sustained
is
an
elusive
matter
and
not
always
able
to
be
instigated
by
formal
planning
actions,
were
they
even
to
seek
it.
Nevertheless,
from
the
growing
number
of
observations
of
places
and
situations
in
which
convivial
encounter
does
occur
in
the
city,
there
are
developing
some
ideas
and
criteria
for
planners
of
the
small-scale
fostering
of
meetings
across
difference
that
they
can
encourage
as
R.
Fincher
et
al.
/
Progress
in
Planning
92
(2014)
1–5542

they
implement
their
regulatory
frameworks,
and
that
they
can
explicitly
try
not
to
harm
or
preclude.
We
turn
to
these
questions
now.
5.3.
Planning
for
multicultural
encounter:
festivals
and
beyond
While
the
sections
above
consider
the
ways
in
which
planning
has
sought
to
regulate
changes
to
urban
landscapes
and
public
spaces
associated
with
multi-
culturalism,
planning
has
also
been
mobilized
to
promote
inter-cultural
encounter
as
a
means
to
head-
off
the
kinds
of
conflicts
discussed
above.
Advocates
of
different
forms
of
‘multiculturalism’
in
planning
have
come
to
invest
their
hopes
in
the
transformative
potential
of
‘encounter’.
Commonly,
this
form
of
planning
practice
involves
the
creation
of
opportunities
for
interactions
between
ethnic
communities,
in
the
hope
that
contact
will
reduce
prejudice
and
social
conflict.
What
kinds
of
goals
and
assumptions
have
informed
these
planning
efforts,
and
what
kinds
of
outcomes
have
been
produced?
Often,
these
goals
are
only
vaguely
specified.
Sometimes,
it
seems
that
contact
and
encounter
are
presented
as
different
routes
to
‘cohesion’
and
‘integration’
of
ethnic
minority
communities,
while
other
times
encounter
is
envisaged
as
a
process
that
might
transform
dominant
ethno-
national
as
well
as
migrant
identities
(Fincher
&
Iveson,
2008).
Either
way,
the
question
of
whether
contact
and
encounter
can
produce
any
kind
of
change
beyond
the
time/space
of
the
encounter
itself
is
increasingly
being
challenged
(Valentine,
2008).
In
what
follows,
we
assess
whether
such
planning
efforts
can
open
up
opportunities
for
people
from
different
backgrounds
to
engage
in
shared
activities
which
might
address
discrimination
and
prejudice,
fostering
new
identifications
and
solidarities
across
difference.
We
begin
with
a
consideration
of
multi-
cultural
festivals,
before
considering
the
significance
of
the
wider
urban
public
realm
for
the
everyday
experience
of
multiculturalism
in
the
city.
Festivals
of
one
kind
or
another
have
become
an
established
part
of
the
repertoire
of
contemporary
urban
planning
in
multicultural
cities.
14
They
have
become
commonplace
in
many
cities
and
urban
neighbourhoods
around
the
world
and
include:
the-
matic
festivals
(such
as
comedy,
film,
or
music
festivals),
festivals
which
celebrate
a
particular
place
(whether
that
be
a
neighbourhood
or
a
city),
festivals
which
celebrate
a
particular
culture
and/or
community
(such
as
gay
and
lesbian
festivals
and
ethnic
cultural
festivals).
The
formal
embrace
of
festivals
by
urban
authorities
can
be
explained
with
reference
to
at
least
two
commonly
held
priorities.
First,
festivals
are
increasingly
being
mobilized
by
urban
authorities
in
the
service
of
place-marketing
(as
discussed
in
Section
4).
A
successful
festival,
it
is
hoped,
might
help
to
put
a
neighbourhood
or
a
city
‘on
the
map’,
making
it
distinctive
and
thereby
drawing
in
tourists
and
investment
from
elsewhere.
Thematic
and
place-
focused
festivals
are
obviously
particularly
important
here.
Second,
festivals
are
often
supported
as
a
means
to
celebrate
a
particular
way
of
life
and/or
community
which
is
perceived
to
be
stigmatized
or
marginalized
in
the
wider
public
sphere.
So,
for
example,
municipal
governments
across
a
wide
range
of
cities
have
actively
embraced
festivals
as
a
way
of
promoting
multi-
culturalism,
hoping
that
such
festivals
will
promote
greater
tolerance
and
understanding
of
ethnic
minority
communities
and
cross-cultural
understanding.
In
Australia,
Dunn,
Hanna,
et
al.
(2001)
and
Dunn,
Thompson,
et
al.
(2001)
surveyed
Australian
local
governments
about
the
actions
that
they
were
taking
to
foster
good
intercommunal
relations
between
cultural
groups.
They
found
that
‘‘th e
most
often
reported
programmes
took
the
form
of
cultural
festivals,
food
fairs,
multicultural
days,
fiestas,
and
arts
projects’’
(2001,
p.
1581).
Such
festivals
are
used
as
‘‘strategies
for
celebrating
diversity,
sharply
contrasting
with
the
pathologizing
of
difference
that
deviates
from
a
presumed
cultural
norm
(an
Anglo-Celtic
norm
in
the
case
of
Australia’’
(2001,
p.
1577).
Critics
of
festivals
designed
to
advance
these
goals
argue
that
they
work
to
reinscribe/reinforce
existing
inequalities
in
cities
as
‘spectacles’
rather
than
genuinely
open
festival
events
with
radical
potential.
Most
obviously,
the
place-marketing
impulse
behind
festivals
has
been
attacked
on
the
grounds
that
it
inevitably
privileges
only
those
activities
and
places
that
can
be
marketed
to
tourists
and
other
spectators
as
consumers.
As
such,
the
image
of
the
city
portrayed
in
the
festival
becomes
of
paramount
importance,
and
people,
places
and
activities
which
do
not
fit
with
the
desired
image
are
excluded
from
the
festival
time-
space.
The
celebratory
impulse
behind
multicultural
festi-
vals
has
also
been
attacked
by
critics
who
argue
that
it
tends
to
pursue
a
weak
kind
of
tolerance
by
exoticising
minority
cultures
and
ethnicities
in
order
to
make
them
‘safe’
for
the
majority.
Critics
of
dominant
forms
of
R.
Fincher
et
al.
/
Progress
in
Planning
92
(2014)
1–55
43
14
Parts
of
this
discussion
on
festivals
are
drawn
from
Fincher
and
Iveson
(2008).

multiculturalism
have
argued
that
multicultural
festi-
vals
are
often
premised
on
the
logic
that
they
provide
minority
ethnic
groups
with
opportunities
to
demon-
strate
the
value
of
their
culture
to
the
white
‘host’
culture
(Hage,
1998,
p.
117–118).
As
such,
they
work
to
reinforce
the
position
of
dominant
groups
as
‘hosts’,
who
may
‘enrich
themselves’
through
their
participa-
tion
in
the
festival
experience.
Furthermore,
such
festivals
can
tend
towards
overly
simplistic
presenta-
tions
of
ethnic
minority
cultures,
overlooking
their
internal
diversity
and
dynamism
(Dunn,
Hanna,
et
al.,
2001;
Dunn,
Thompson,
et
al.,
2001,
p.
1579).
However,
other
studies
suggest
that
multicultural
festivals
can
partially
escape
simplistic
representations,
and
that
transformative
cross-cultural
encounters
may
take
place.
Permezel
and
Duffy’s
(2007)
account
of
one
multicultural
festival
in
suburban
Melbourne
is
parti-
cularly
suggestive
here.
In
response
to
the
existing
critiques
of
multicultural
festivals,
they
argue
that
multicultural
festivals
intended
as
celebrations
and
for
consumption
of
Otherness
can
transcend
their
own
intentions.
As
they
note,
it
is
important
not
to
simply
take
the
intentions
of
planners
as
given,
as
if
they
wholly
determine
the
outcome
of
festival-going
and
experien-
cing.
Instead,
it
is
important
to
look
at
what
people
actually
do
at
festivals.
Through
such
an
analysis,
they
argue,
it
is
possible
to
see
that
people’s
mode
of
participation
‘‘often
exceeds
the
way
local
government
attempts
to
manage
cultural
difference
through
its
multicultural
policies’’
(Permezel
&
Duffy,
2007,
p.
367).
Music
and
food,
for
example,
can
be
much
more
than
‘shallow
signifiers
of
culture’.
By
engaging
the
senses,
such
activities
can
help
to
ensure
that
festivals
become
‘‘a
place
of
experimentation’’,
such
that
‘‘the
structure
of
the
local
festival
allows
and
enables
dialogue
in
potentially
collaborative
and
innovative
ways’’
(Permezel
&
Duffy,
2007,
p.
367).
The
literature
suggests
that
there
are
numerous
ways
in
which
festivals
have
managed
to
foster
a
form
of
cross-cultural
politics
beyond
a
‘consumption’
of
the
ethnicised
Other.
First,
the
flexibility
of
the
festival’s
theme
and
presentation
is
important.
Precisely
because
immigrant
and
ethnic
minority
groups
are
themselves
internally
differentiated,
festivals
do
not
have
to
be
organized
so
as
to
completely
avoid
disagreement
and
discord
in
order
that
a
‘united
front’
is
presented
to
their
intended
audience.
So,
in
the
case
of
multicultural
festivals,
this
might
mean
that
organizers
work
hard
to
include
second
generation
young
people
alongside
established
community
leaders
in
the
planning
of
festival
events.
Second,
the
spatial
location
of
festivals
is
very
significant
for
the
kinds
of
encounters
they
might
sustain.
The
location
of
some
festivals
ensures
that
festival-goers
will
most
likely
share
a
time-space
only
with
others
‘like
them’,
while
others
are
deliberately
located
to
expose
urban
inhabitants
to
strangers
through
initiating
forms
of
spatial
dislocation.
For
example,
planners
in
Leicester
in
the
UK
have
recently
realized
that
while
support
for
festivals
such
as
Dewali,
Christmas
and
the
Caribbean
carnival
can
help
to
‘celebrate
diversity’,
to
be
effective
in
addressing
the
segregation
of
different
groups
such
festivals
need
to
be
embedded
in
a
range
of
cultural
spaces
beyond
central
or
well-established
entertainment
zones
(Singh,
2003,
p.
49).
And
finally,
there
is
a
need
for
festival
organizers
to
establish
less
formal
activities
and
spaces
as
part
of
the
festival,
and
to
explicitly
acknowledge
(and
even
embrace)
the
notion
that
not
all
festival
activities
can
be
pre-determined
by
their
organizers:
‘‘There
is
an
important
interplay
between
the
formal
institutional
expectations
and
outcomes,
and
creating
less
formal
and
structured
environments
where
people
can
come
together’’
(Permezel
&
Duffy,
2007,
p.
374).
But
even
as
planned
events
such
as
festivals
can
perhaps
sustain
more
transformative
encounters
across
difference,
there
remains
the
question
of
whether
the
encounters
that
are
fostered
in
dedicated
events
such
as
festivals
will
have
an
impact
beyond
the
encounter
itself.
As
we
noted
earlier
in
the
section
on
social
mix
(Section
3),
encounters
across
cultures
take
place
at
a
wide
variety
of
sites
beyond
those
that
usually
feature
in
planning
policies
explicitly
concerned
with
multi-
culturalism
and
diversity.
Indeed,
a
growing
body
of
scholarship
points
out
that
the
everyday
infrastructures
and
systems
of
cities
tend
to
generate
certain
patterns
of
inter-cultural
interaction
in
sites
often
not
typically
associated
with
multiculturalism.
Examples
include
participation
in
‘micro-publics’
like
school
parent
committees
(Amin,
2002),
public
library
reading
groups
(Fincher
&
Iveson,
2008),
everyday
neighbourly
practices
like
gardening
and
eating
(Wise,
2010),
sub-cultural
formations
like
music
scenes
(Gilroy,
2004),
and
workplaces
(Ellis
et
al.,
2004).
Such
sites
have
the
potential
to
foster
certain
forms
of
solidarity
and
respect
across
ethnic
difference
through
shared
involvement
in
common
projects
(Matejskova
&
Leitner,
2011).
Although
it
should
be
noted
that
such
sites
can
also
serve
to
reinforce
prejudice
and
nationalist
norms,
‘undoing’
any
of
the
progressive
potential
that
might
have
been
produced
in
settings
discussed
above
(Valentine,
2008).
The
important
point
here
is
that
policy
decisions
and
settings
beyond
those
associated
with
‘multicultural-
ism’
per
se
can
have
powerful
effects
in
shaping
the
R.
Fincher
et
al.
/
Progress
in
Planning
92
(2014)
1–5544

experience
of
diversity
in
cities.
In
particular,
the
planning
of
the
urban
public
realm
more
broadly
will
have
profound
impacts
on
the
nature
of
inter-cultural
encounter
and
solidarity
in
multicultural
cities.
Multi-
cultural
festivals
and
the
like
may
be
significant,
but
the
provision
of
services
such
as
public
libraries,
public
transportation,
public
schooling
and
neighbourhood
houses
will
also
play
a
vital
role
in
establishing
the
conditions
of
‘everyday
multiculturalism’
(Wise
&
Velayutham,
2009).
Without
such
universally
accessible
spaces
and
services,
the
‘splintering’
of
the
city
along
both
class
and
cultural
lines
will
no
doubt
be
exacerbated
(Graham
&
Marvin,
2001),
no
matter
whether
the
presence
of
immigrants
is
formally
recognized
in
a
festival
or
facility.
5.4.
The
public
realm
and
the
public
interest
in
multicultural
cities
Multiculturalism
has
an
aesthetic
dimension:
it
is
registered
by
the
senses
in
the
production
of
urban
landscapes,
in
the
experience
of
public
spaces,
in
the
staging
of
events
and
the
provision
of
facilities.
As
such,
the
politics
of
identity
associated
with
multiculturalism
often
takes
the
form
of
aesthetic
interventions
–
from
efforts
to
construct
or
block
particular
styles
of
architecture,
to
efforts
to
police
the
visible
presence
of
different
groups
and
behaviours
in
public
space,
to
efforts
to
foreground
and
celebrate
these
differences.
Given
that
planning
operates
in
a
context
of
a
contested
politics
of
national
identity,
there
is
no
possibility
of
aesthetic
neutrality.
The
implicit
or
explicit
orientation
towards
multiculturalism,
as
both
empirical
reality
and
political
philosophy,
simply
cannot
be
‘neutral’
when
faced
with
competing
claims
premised
on
irreconcilable
positions
in
these
debates.
This
is
not
to
say
that
planning
processes
should
not
seek
to
operate
in
the
‘public
interest’,
but
rather
to
say
that
the
public
interest
is
not
out
there
waiting
to
be
found,
but
is
something
that
has
to
be
constructed
through
a
political
process
in
a
situation
characterized
by
multiple
and
often
competing
publics.
It
is
an
interesting
question
for
further
research
how
planning
frameworks
and
practices,
which
in
many
jurisdictions
do
not
even
emphasize
the
importance
of
the
‘social’
in
the
life
and
functioning
of
the
city,
can
come
to
give
priority
to
the
aesthetic
and
the
sensory
in
their
great
variety.
6.
Conclusions
We
began
by
asking
–
is
planning
in
the
multicultural
city
celebrating
diversity
or
reinforcing
difference?
Our
answer,
of
course,
is
that
it
is
doing
both,
and
often
simultaneously.
For
example,
the
commodification
of
places
and
the
holding
of
multicultural
festivals
for
their
ethnic
‘interest’
is
a
celebration
of
diversity
at
the
same
time
as
it
is
reinforcing
the
apparent
difference
of
those
living
in
ways
unusual
to
behold
for
a
local
non-
immigrant
or
non-minority
person.
But
in
addition
there
has
been
the
constant
presence
through
decades
of
planning
efforts
to
regulate
and
discipline
the
poor
and
marginalized
minority
groups,
thereby
reinforcing
the
perception
that
poverty
and
marginalization
must
be
managed
and
strictly
controlled.
The
philosophy
of
some
current
social
mix
programmes
retains
an
emphasis
on
‘improving’
the
poor
themselves,
even
as
it
seeks
also
to
enhance
their
physical
living
environments.
There
is
also
the
question
of
what
planners
in
the
multicultural
city
should
be
doing,
and
whether
our
review
finds
that
they
are
taking
actions
that
fit
with
the
norms
and
expectations
of
‘good
practice’.
Our
paper
has
not
focused
primarily
on
the
norms
of
planning
thought
and
their
appearance
(or
not)
in
practice,
though
the
norms
of
redistribution,
recognition
and
encounter
(Fincher
&
Iveson,
2008)
have
guided
our
comments
about
prevailing
shifts
to
neoliberal
governance
and
their
implications
for
the
planning
task.
Important
to
note
is
the
point
that
a
focus
on
broad
norms
about
what
multicultural
planning
should
be,
which
are
often
associated
with
the
emanicapatory
and
empowering
potential
of
such
planning,
can
be
associated
with
a
failure
to
explore
the
complex
and
grounded
nature
of
planning
in
places,
politics
and
contexts
(Van
der
Horst
&
Ouwehand,
2012).
Such
a
focus
may
also
lead
analysts
to
ignore
the
benefits
of
market-led
changes
in
the
city
that
might
involve
immigrants,
because
explicitly
commercial
objectives
are
considered
outside
the
scope
of
certain
longstanding
norms
of
planning
in
the
multicultural
city
(Van
der
Horst
&
Ouwehand,
2012).
Equally,
this
focus
might
lead
to
failure
to
recognize
how
formally
instituted
planning
changes,
if
they
are
driven
top-down
with
reference
to
norms,
often
benefit
from
combining
with
more
organic
changes
in
the
life
of
the
city.
Across
the
sections
through
which
we
have
reviewed
the
involvements
of
planning
in
the
contemporary
multicultural
city,
four
issues
emerged
which
have
implications
for
the
ways
planners
understand,
manage
and
support
ethnic
and
racialized
difference
as
part
of
the
life
and
the
institutional
frameworks
of
the
city.
First,
we
have
seen
the
complex
ways
in
which
planning
is
positioned,
with
respect
to
multiculturalism
as
demographic
reality,
policy,
and
philosophy.
Across
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et
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Progress
in
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92
(2014)
1–55
45

each
of
these
dimensions
of
multiculturalism,
urban
planning
and
city
governance
both
respond
to
and
actively
shape
outcomes,
and
indeed
could
do
more
of
this.
So,
for
instance,
while
immigration
policies
set
at
the
national
scale
play
a
significant
role
in
establishing
multiculturalism
as
a
demographic
reality
to
which
planning
frameworks
must
respond,
those
local
plan-
ning
frameworks
inevitably
shape
how
the
reality
of
diversity
is
spatialized
and
experienced
on
the
ground.
Also,
because
immigration
policies
and
urban
planning
frameworks
are
typically
the
domain
of
a
variety
of
agencies
and
scales
of
government
there
is
the
potential
for
such
policies
and
frameworks
to
operate
simulta-
neously
with
different
philosophical
and
even
practical
orientations
towards
lived
multiculturalism.
In
many
federal
systems,
local
governments
display
and
act
upon
their
own
understandings
of
multiculturalism
as
it
is
lived
and
as
it
can
be
valued
in
the
city,
even
if
national
policies
and
claims
about
multiculturalism
seem
at
odds
with
local
practice.
From
the
vantage
point
of
the
city,
the
national
and
the
global
are
both
‘in
here’
as
well
as
‘out
there’
(Massey,
2005).
The
case
can
certainly
be
made
that
managing
the
urban
sites
of
immigrant
lives,
which
is
a
task
of
planners
as
well
as
other
locally
sited
actors,
should
be
recognized
and
foreshadowed
more
thoroughly
in
the
taking
of
national
decisions
and
that
planners
should
become
more
visible
in
arguing
for
this
to
occur.
No
doubt
linked
to
the
presence
of
the
global
in
the
national
and
local,
we
found
surprising
similarities
in
the
actions
of
urban
planners
despite
differences
in
national
and
regional
policies
concerning
multicultur-
alism.
For
example,
social
mix
policies
and
interven-
tions
supporting
the
commodification
of
ethnic
enclaves
are
often
remarkably
similar
though
their
broader
context
differs.
There
are
also
variations
across
cities
in
the
planning
policies
invoked
to
manage
cultural
diversity/difference.
For
example,
Dutch
and
Singapor-
ean
policies
pay
a
great
deal
of
attention
to
housing,
while
Canadian
approaches
tend
to
emphasize
settle-
ment
services.
In
Germany
neighbourhood
and
com-
munity
programmes
have
been
highlighted
recently.
Overall,
we
have
found
more
similarities
between
cities
than
across
countries.
Professional
planners
adhere
to
their
understandings
of
the
variety
of
ways
to
engage
with
local
communities
and
their
built
environments,
and
this
produces
policies
and
practices
in
cities
that
are
recognizable
in
their
features
from
one
place
to
another.
Planners
are
to
be
applauded
for
this
resilience,
even
when
national
politics
makes
their
task
difficult.
Second,
it
bears
noting
that
specific
subjects
and
sites
are
regularly
chosen
for
urban
planning
intervention
in
the
name
of
managing
diversity
and
difference.
Much
of
the
planning
effort
in
cities
across
the
globe
has
targeted
as
subjects
poor
immigrants
and
minorities
and
the
neighbourhoods
and
public
spaces
in
which
they
live.
We
have
already
observed
the
ubiquity
of
social
mix
policies
based
on
the
premise
that
managing
diversity
and
social
order
will
be
easier
if
poor
people
and
ethnic
minority
groups
live
in
proximity
to
the
affluent
and
the
(usually
non-ethnicised)
majority.
This
outcome
is
pursued
either
by
controlling
the
location
of
public
or
social
housing,
or
more
recently,
by
attracting
higher-
income
groups
into
disadvantaged
areas.
Planners
and
planning
documents
rarely
express
concern
about
the
deleterious
consequences
for
the
city
of
the
self-
segregation
of
white
or
rich
residential
spaces.
These
spaces
are
considered
normal,
unremarkable,
and
their
exemption
from
demands
for
social
mixing
puts
the
responsibility
for
active
integration
onto
the
shoulders
of
poor
and
racialized
minorities.
Regarding
the
sites
of
intervention,
we
emphasize
that
social
mixing
can
occur
in
many
settings
and
that
the
residence
is
perhaps
less
important
than
other
sites
such
as
the
workplace,
or
libraries
and
other
public
facilities.
Certainly,
more
attention
needs
to
be
paid
to
the
workplace
as
a
setting
where
social
capital
is
accumulated
and
important
negotiations
across
difference
occur.
If
we
then
think
about
the
role
of
the
planner
in
selecting
these
subjects
and
sites
for
intervention,
the
implications
of
our
review
include
that
planning
practice
needs
to
steer
away
from
any
tendency
to
view
the
lives
and
neighbourhoods
of
poor
minorities
and
immigrants
as
inherently
proble-
matic,
more
than
the
lives
of
other
‘groups’,
and
therefore
as
more
legitimately
the
object
of
close
planning
control.
Also
the
preoccupation
of
planning
with
residential
neighbourhoods
and
housing
as
major
sites
for
integration
might
be
replaced
by
considering
a
wider
range
of
places
as
sites
in
which
a
more
inclusive
daily
life
could
occur,
as
well
as
the
varied
spatial
scales
at
which
this
might
be
possible,
including
those
retail
precincts
that
we
have
considered
in
Section
4.
Third,
we
have
seen
that
a
wide
range
of
urban
planning
efforts,
which
are
not
portrayed
as
relevant
to
multicultural
relations
in
the
city,
nevertheless
have
an
impact
on
the
nature
of
diversity
and
difference
there.
Some
planning
projects
are
explicitly
concerned
with
addressing
issues
of
difference
and
diversity
in
urban
populations
–
such
as
social
mix
programmes
in
housing,
efforts
to
establish
ethnically
identified
local
economies
and
the
promotion
of
cultural
recognition
through
the
planning
of
celebratory
events
and
the
provision
of
multi-
lingual
services.
But
all
manner
of
other
planning
tools
and
issues
have
cultural
dimensions.
For
instance,
traffic
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in
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92
(2014)
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and
parking
regulations,
the
zoning
of
land-uses,
and
even
the
provision
of
electric
wires
and
telegraph
poles
can
be
caught
up
in
disputes
arising
from
the
citizenship
claims
of
immigrant
communities
and
racialized
minorities.
Criteria
for
regulating
such
issues
are
far
from
neutral,
and
much
more
than
simple
technical
matters.
The
circumstances
of
South
African
cities
may
also
be
used
as
an
example
here.
There,
gaps
in
municipal
infrastructure
of
all
types
–
physical
services,
social
services,
political
and
administrative
structures
–
limit
the
capacity
of
local
actors
to
achieve
racial
integration
and
equality,
despite
the
existence
of
an
inclusive
legislative
framework.
In
contrast
in
Singapore,
strong
planning
powers
have
not
always
created
harmony
and
social
order
between
the
Chinese
majority
and
ethnicised
minorities.
For
the
future,
discussions
of
informal
practices
like
street
vending,
prominent
in
many
cities
of
the
Global
South
and
Global
North
though
less
acknowledged
and
accepted
in
the
latter,
have
much
to
contribute
to
thinking
about
planning
and
multicultur-
alism.
They
raise
questions
about
the
degree
of
alignment
between
planning
and
social
control,
a
matter
that
sits
in
the
shadows
of
many
of
the
issues
that
we
have
canvassed
under
the
heading
of
planning
in
the
multicultural
city.
We
think
it
important
that
the
implications
of
all
planning
policies
for
diverse
segments
of
the
population
should
be
acknowledged
as
part
of
the
task
of
‘multicultural
planning’.
Understanding
the
city
as
everywhere
and
in
every
way
multicultural
is
an
important
underpinning
for
planning
practice.
Fourth,
we
have
seen
that
urban
planning
and
governance
in
multicultural
cities
is
not
and
should
not
be
the
sole
preserve
of
professional
planners,
a
point
long
made
by
Leonie
Sandercock
(1998,
2003).
Planning
and
planners
are
part
of
strategic
endeavours
at
local
and
other
scales
to
make
improvements
for
urban
residents.
Planners
participate
in
alliances
to
promote
urban
redevelopment,
as
representatives
from
either
public
and
private
sector
institutions
or
commu-
nity
organizations.
Within
this
purview,
certain
goals
are
often
privileged
over
others.
In
this
context,
are
planners
asserting
their
time-honoured
social
goals
for
redistribution,
recognition
of
difference,
and
social
inclusion
in
the
economic
and
political
debates
about
the
futures
of
their
localities
or
are
they
being
silent?
Our
review
reveals
examples
in
cities
around
the
world
where
planners
design
and
implement
government
programmes
that
assist
ethnic
entrepreneurship
in
localities
of
immigrant
or
minority
settlement.
Never-
theless,
the
literature
suggests
that
the
daily,
positive,
multicultural
interactions
promoted
in
ethnic
precincts
and
in
markets,
festivals,
and
international
events
such
as
the
Olympics
are
not
valued
so
much
for
themselves
as
for
their
commercial
and
economic
benefits
to
the
city
hosting
them.
We
have
also
shown
(unsurprisingly)
the
limitations
of
planning
that
tries
to
enforce
social
mix
from
the
top
down,
and
the
need
to
involve
local
residents
and
civic
organizations
more
actively
in
the
construction
of
diverse
neighbourhood
or
community
spaces
of
coex-
istence.
Residents
often
petition
urban
planners,
disputing
and
promoting
changes
to
their
neighbour-
hoods
and
cities,
based
on
their
own
understandings
of
and
desires
for
multiculturalism.
But
planners
are
rarely
able
to
achieve
outcomes
acting
on
their
own.
Usually
in
consultation
with
a
wide
variety
of
stakeholders,
planners
have
built
support
for
interventions
that
are
then
implemented
successfully.
Accordingly,
instead
of
planner
and
design-centric
approaches
to
promote
social
mixing
and
immigrant
integration,
we
need
to
look
at
how
local
residents
and
social
movements
are
already
imagining
and
constructing
neighbourhood
and
community
spaces
of
coexistence.
With
this
in
mind,
planning
must
be
distinguished
from
social
control.
While
planners
must
certainly
be
concerned
with
outcomes
as
well
as
processes,
the
co-
construction
of
everyday
multiculturalisms
is
in
the
end
the
task
of
inhabitants
as
well
as
planners.
While
the
limitations
of
state
withdrawal
under
the
guise
of
neoliberalism
are
noted
by
many
analysts,
it
is
also
evident
that
bureaucratic
control
can
stifle
creativity
and
the
emergence
of
new
solidarities.
To
put
this
another
way,
planners
will
find
themselves
required
to
play
a
variety
of
roles
if
they
are
to
foster
forms
of
multicultural
urbanism
that
tackle
inequalities
based
on
ethnic
and
racialized
difference,
We
have
seen
in
this
review
that
in
some
instances,
racism
is
best
tackled
by
planners
being
strongly
interventionist
in
the
shaping
of
places
and
policies.
In
other
instances,
it
has
been
the
role
of
planners
to
step
back
and
find
ways
to
support
more
‘organic’
and
informal
multiculturalisms
through
the
relaxing
and/or
reframing
of
existing
planning
controls.
So,
while
we
offer
no
simple
prescriptions
for
planners,
we
hope
that
this
review
of
what
is
being
done
in
the
name
of
multiculturalism
by
planners
in
cities
around
the
world
can
contribute
to
the
hard
work
of
those
who
aspire
for
planning
to
contribute
to
more
equal
and
just
cities.
Acknowledgements
We
would
like
to
thank
Sian
Butcher
who
contributed
to
the
research
and
writing
of
Section
3,
R.
Fincher
et
al.
/
Progress
in
Planning
92
(2014)
1–55
47

Kathryn
Dennler
who
copy-edited
the
article,
Joanne
Patton
who
helped
with
formatting,
the
reviewers
and
editors
for
their
helpful
comments,
and
the
Rockefeller
Foundation
Bellagio
Centre
for
a
sustaining
residency
which
enabled
the
completion
of
this
article.
The
research
reported
here
was
supported
by
the
College
of
Liberal
Arts,
University
of
Minnesota
and
CERIS
–
The
Ontario
Metropolis
Centre.
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Ruth
Fincher
is
Professor
of
Geography
at
the
University
of
Melbourne,
and
was
previously
Professor
of
Urban
Planning
there.
An
urban
geographer,
she
has
research
interests
in
the
production
of
inequality
and
the
social
relations
of
gender
and
ethnicity
in
the
western
city,
with
a
particular
focus
on
social
planning.
She
has
published
in
the
journals
of
critical
human
geography
over
many
years,
and
her
most
recent
book
is
Planning
and
Diversity
in
the
City:
Redistribution,
Recognition,
Encounter
(Palgrave
Macmillan,
Houndmills,
Basingstoke,
2008),
co-authored
with
Kurt
Iveson.
Kurt
Iveson
is
a
Senior
Lecturer
in
urban
geography
at
the
University
of
Sydney.
He
is
the
author
of
Publics
and
the
City
(2007,
Blackwell),
co-author
of
Planning
and
Diversity
in
the
City:
Redistribution,
Recognition
and
Encounter
(2008,
Palgrave),
and
numerous
articles
about
urban
public
space
and
social
justice.
He
blogs
on
urban
issues
at
www.citiesandcitizenship.blogspot.com.
Helga
Leitner
is
Professor
of
Geography
at
the
University
of
California,
Los
Angeles.
She
received
her
degree
in
Geography
and
Urban
and
Regional
Planning
from
the
University
of
Vienna,
Austria,
and
was
previously
Professor
of
Geography
and
Global
Studies
at
the
University
of
Minnesota,
Minneapolis.
She
has
published
three
books
and
has
written
numerous
articles
and
book
chapters
on
the
politics
of
immigration
and
citizenship,
immigrant
incorporation,
globalization
and
urban
development,
urban
social
movements,
and
socio-spatial
theory.
Her
most
recent
book
is
‘‘Contesting
Neoliberalism:
Urban
Frontiers’’
(co-edited
with
J.
Peck
and
E.
Sheppard,
Guilford
Press
2007).
Valerie
Preston
is
a
Professor
at
York
University
where
she
teaches
urban
social
geography.
Previously,
she
was
the
York
Director
for
CERIS
–
The
Ontario
Metropolis
Centre
that
promoted
policy-relevant
research
about
immigration
and
settlement
issues
in
Ontario.
Her
own
research
focuses
on
international
migration
and
social
inequality,
particularly
in
housing
and
labour
markets.
She
is
especially
interested
in
geographical
perspectives
on
gender
inequality
and
work.
She
has
published
in
numerous
human
geography
and
social
science
journals
and
is
currently
co-
editing
a
book
entitled
Liberating
Temporariness?
Migration,
Work
and
Citizenship
in
an
Age
of
Insecurity
with
Leah
Vosko
and
Robert
Latham
to
be
published
by
McGill-Queen’s
University
Press.
R.
Fincher
et
al.
/
Progress
in
Planning
92
(2014)
1–55
55