Beyond the trauma that comes from planning’s explicit and implicit dark side, there is another layer of trauma that is even more fundamental to the profession: the trauma that comes from change. Planners are in many ways the shepherds of change in communities. They attempt to mediate and control effect of change on the present and they prepare plans for the shape and direction of future change. The relationship between change and trauma has been explored through the work of Peter Marris (1). In their seminal work Loss and Change, Marris explores the emotional experience of change. They elaborate how “even desired change can prompt feelings of loss or suffering”, feelings that only amplify when the change is imposed by an external authority (1). Even as planning makes strides to increase the voice of the community and direct change in the community’s desired direction, the members are still likely to experience loss.
There is also the acute loss experienced by the community when planning does not or cannot recognize community autonomy or steward desired change. Trauma arises when there is no grieving process to transform these feelings of loss into growth (1). The trauma associated with community change can be quite significant. For example, residents in insecure public housing situations described the stress of relocation as very unpleasant: “moving three times is the same as having your house on fire once” (2).
Marris dives into the trauma of change further with their exploration of continuity. They explain how individual members of the community will project their sense of security onto the physical community around them and create a series of structures of meaning (1). These structures of meaning remind people of their relationship to the community and how their experience fits into a broader paradigm. When change happens to the community there is not just a loss of specific experiences (i.e. favourite pizzeria, an important view) there is also a loss in the continuity between these structures of meaning (i.e. This is a safe space, this is my home, I belong here). Having signposts of continuity either in the physical community or in the process of change can help mitigate feelings of loss (1). When loss does occur in community change, people need space to grieve in order to rebuild their continuity of meaning. Marris explains the dynamics of this grief as such:
“Grief, then, is the expression of a profound conflict between contradictory impulses – to consolidate all that is still valuable and important in the past and preserve it from loss; and at the same time, to re-establish a meaningful pattern of relationships, in which the loss is accepted” (1)
This tension between the meaning of the past and the future is reflected in the challenge of community engagement in the planning process. For example, when advocates within the community push for “some phantom of the past projected onto some future utopia at the cost of disavowing the unhomely reality of living in the present” (Donald, 1999). Without a proper grieving process, communities are unable to move on from the past and let go of their fear of the future and are thus stuck in a state of trauma. As curators of change, Marris gives planners several recommendations to mitigate loss, preserve continuity, and allow for grief and thus healing and growth to arise:
In the years since Marris’ work, many of his recommendations have come to pass. The requirements for the type and length of notice have grown, and long range/predictive planning activities have tried to give communities more preparation and autonomy over future change. Similarly, the rise of the heritage preservation movement has cemented continuity as an important factor for consideration in planning. Marris’ last recommendation is reflected in proposals such as the City of Toronto’s one-year moratorium on high rise development in the downtown core. After an influx of condo development in the downtown core, counselor Kristyn Wong-Tam inquired into the feasibility of a development moratorium to give planners and the public more time to understand how the development would fit into the public interest (3). The request was pulled and the moratorium dropped, reflecting how the rate of change in many communities is too great to feasibly realize Marris’ vision.
Marris’ third recommendation is where I see the biggest gap in current planning practice but also the biggest opportunity for therapeutic planning. Therapeutic planning essentially builds and expands this point by creating a respectful space for trauma, the grieving process, and the conflicts that stemmed from them to be recognized and processed.
Both Marris and the therapeutic planners that followed them make the case for the emotional wellbeing of communities to be a top priority for the profession. The profession has a responsibility to become more therapeutic because not only does planning have a traumatic dark side but the process of change at the heart of the profession is inherently traumatizing. Therapeutic planning encourages planners to be mindful of their potential to be agents of either trauma or growth and gives them a path to choose the latter. Therapeutic language, an approach rooted in person-centred or community-centred care and built in grieving processes, is one of the tools available for planners to assume their potential for community growth and transformation.
There is also the acute loss experienced by the community when planning does not or cannot recognize community autonomy or steward desired change. Trauma arises when there is no grieving process to transform these feelings of loss into growth (1). The trauma associated with community change can be quite significant. For example, residents in insecure public housing situations described the stress of relocation as very unpleasant: “moving three times is the same as having your house on fire once” (2).
Marris dives into the trauma of change further with their exploration of continuity. They explain how individual members of the community will project their sense of security onto the physical community around them and create a series of structures of meaning (1). These structures of meaning remind people of their relationship to the community and how their experience fits into a broader paradigm. When change happens to the community there is not just a loss of specific experiences (i.e. favourite pizzeria, an important view) there is also a loss in the continuity between these structures of meaning (i.e. This is a safe space, this is my home, I belong here). Having signposts of continuity either in the physical community or in the process of change can help mitigate feelings of loss (1). When loss does occur in community change, people need space to grieve in order to rebuild their continuity of meaning. Marris explains the dynamics of this grief as such:
“Grief, then, is the expression of a profound conflict between contradictory impulses – to consolidate all that is still valuable and important in the past and preserve it from loss; and at the same time, to re-establish a meaningful pattern of relationships, in which the loss is accepted” (1)
This tension between the meaning of the past and the future is reflected in the challenge of community engagement in the planning process. For example, when advocates within the community push for “some phantom of the past projected onto some future utopia at the cost of disavowing the unhomely reality of living in the present” (Donald, 1999). Without a proper grieving process, communities are unable to move on from the past and let go of their fear of the future and are thus stuck in a state of trauma. As curators of change, Marris gives planners several recommendations to mitigate loss, preserve continuity, and allow for grief and thus healing and growth to arise:
- Provide ample advanced notice so community has time to prepare for change.
- Retain key physical, social and procedural features to signify continuity.
- Expect and encourage public conflict so people can express and process their emotional reactions.
- Place a moratorium on more change until initial change has been processed so as to not emotionally overwhelm community. (1)
In the years since Marris’ work, many of his recommendations have come to pass. The requirements for the type and length of notice have grown, and long range/predictive planning activities have tried to give communities more preparation and autonomy over future change. Similarly, the rise of the heritage preservation movement has cemented continuity as an important factor for consideration in planning. Marris’ last recommendation is reflected in proposals such as the City of Toronto’s one-year moratorium on high rise development in the downtown core. After an influx of condo development in the downtown core, counselor Kristyn Wong-Tam inquired into the feasibility of a development moratorium to give planners and the public more time to understand how the development would fit into the public interest (3). The request was pulled and the moratorium dropped, reflecting how the rate of change in many communities is too great to feasibly realize Marris’ vision.
Marris’ third recommendation is where I see the biggest gap in current planning practice but also the biggest opportunity for therapeutic planning. Therapeutic planning essentially builds and expands this point by creating a respectful space for trauma, the grieving process, and the conflicts that stemmed from them to be recognized and processed.
Both Marris and the therapeutic planners that followed them make the case for the emotional wellbeing of communities to be a top priority for the profession. The profession has a responsibility to become more therapeutic because not only does planning have a traumatic dark side but the process of change at the heart of the profession is inherently traumatizing. Therapeutic planning encourages planners to be mindful of their potential to be agents of either trauma or growth and gives them a path to choose the latter. Therapeutic language, an approach rooted in person-centred or community-centred care and built in grieving processes, is one of the tools available for planners to assume their potential for community growth and transformation.
1. Marris, P. (1974). Loss and change. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul.
2. Manzo, L., Kleit, R., & Couch, D. (2008). “Moving three times is like having your house on fire once”: The experience of place and impending displacement among public housing residents. Urban Studies, 45(9), 1855-1878.
3. City of Toronto. (2016, October 27). Request for a Report on the Implementation of a One-Year Moratorium on new Tall Building Residential Development in the Downtown Core. https://www.toronto.ca/legdocs/mmis/2016/te/bgrd/backgroundfile-97790.pdf
2. Manzo, L., Kleit, R., & Couch, D. (2008). “Moving three times is like having your house on fire once”: The experience of place and impending displacement among public housing residents. Urban Studies, 45(9), 1855-1878.
3. City of Toronto. (2016, October 27). Request for a Report on the Implementation of a One-Year Moratorium on new Tall Building Residential Development in the Downtown Core. https://www.toronto.ca/legdocs/mmis/2016/te/bgrd/backgroundfile-97790.pdf