Reflections; Urban Regeneration and Masterplanning
I have spent most of my career working in urban regeneration, often on large-scale, mixed-use city centre projects in historically sensitive contexts, such as the newly completed St James Quarter in Edinburgh’s UNESCO World Heritage Site. The St James Quarter took over 17 years to complete, involving many people and extensive public consultation. This project represents a new chapter in the city’s history, with many possible solutions explored over the years.
Recently, I spoke at an RSA event in Southampton on masterplanning. In recent years, Southampton has commissioned several masterplan studies to address city centre issues and is about to commission another. This raised a few questions for me: What happened to the previous studies? Have they been completed, Are they in progress, or have they been abandoned?
Creating a new masterplan often recognises and accepts that there is a problem and a need for change. However, there is no clear consensus or definition of what a masterplan should include. The commissioning body determines the purpose, scope, and breadth of the study. Therefore, a masterplan is only as good as the questions asked, who commissions it, and its purpose. This is where major debates begin: Can we agree on the problem we are trying to solve, and what would success look like? Cities are never finished; they change, innovate, and adapt to various pressures.
We always need to think about the city’s future, but can we ever agree on what kind of city we want? Are we addressing today’s problems or the future’s? How do we prioritise the issues, who will be affected, and how will we fund new buildings, public spaces, and infrastructure changes? Achieving consensus is always challenging, and the more complex and ambitious the masterplan, the harder it is to deliver. This is why many visually stimulating and elaborate masterplan visions end up in a drawer, leading to consultation and masterplan fatigue among citizens.
Depending on their purpose, some masterplans can be very useful in identifying opportunities, guiding investment, and raising a city’s profile. They can focus creativity and highlight important strategic connections and spatial linkages. However, some of the best masterplans, such as Craig’s plan for Edinburgh’s New Town, simply outlined a basic layout of streets and public squares, with little emphasis on architecture. The architecture of individual buildings was left to many hands over many years, forming a cohesive and unique sense of place. Less may indeed be more. Nowadays, masterplans are often presented as ‘fait accompli’ visions. Evocative images of sunny spaces, dramatic architecture, and detailed videos. This approach has been described as designing the ‘instant city,’ an all-inclusive package deal. Illustrated with contemporary architecture, little is left to the imagination or to evolve over time. This instant city is no longer a potential blueprint but a complete and immutable vision.
Perhaps we are too accustomed to instant gratification, the power and influence of CGI and AI. However, cities rarely work like this; progress is not instant. It is nuanced and complicated, requiring time, involvement, and consensus. This is not to undermine the creative leaps and design insights that good designers bring to urbanism. But the idea of masterplanning the instant city highlights the problem.
Creating a masterplan from the ‘top down’ fails to include the creative fine grain of multiple ideas and encourages greater consensus. However, ‘bottom up’ masterplanning can become so data-heavy with conflicting ideas that it also fails to reach consensus. The pressure for change is always present, but bringing about that change is difficult. Doing nothing often avoids the problems and is unsatisfactory. Doing little may be a good and prescient solution in some circumstances. Doing too much can be exciting but disappointing if it doesn’t deliver or becomes an urban remnant—a reminder of a failed idea.