There is a way of thinking about the world, one we seem often encouraged to take, that suggests that things can really only be the way that they are. That there is an inevitability about the way in which spaces and buildings around us are produced and sustained; about who gets to live in them;  to do whatever in them; and to change them.

I find it helpful, as both participant and facilitator, to think of community-centred design as a form of politics; a process of creatively determining ‘who gets what, when, how’ – to use a classic definition from another theorist, Harold Laswell. Decisions about the form of the world are structured through power relations. That is a given. Inevitably, those who hold more established and traditional forms of power – land, money, or formalised roles – end up with more influence over how the world is designed and organised. In turn, that organised, designed form helps sustain the status quo. Community-centred design offers an opportunity to draw attention to power relations; to be conscious of – in the way in which we deliver projects – who is holding power, of who benefits and in what way, from different decisions; and having made those decisions, and power relations, more visible, to invest critical creative thinking about the best and most equitable way to address them.

In community-centred design, the design of the process is therefore just as important as the design of the finished building, space or object. When I support community groups in the selection of architects for projects, I always encourage them not just to look at their design vision and practice portfolio, but also to interrogate how the architects propose working with them. And not just to tick off buzzwords, like ‘collaboration’ or ‘workshop’, but to demand specific examples of tools and techniques. Similarly, when facilitating a project, one of the first things I do is map out the decision-making process, simply and transparently. What needs to be decided when, how and by whom? Where are the key decisions, the catalytic moments? And where are the ones, that, if we don’t pay attention, might get taken by accident, or by design ‘magic’, but that actually residents might want to be consciously part of? That way, from the start participants are made aware of the potential agency they hold and, perhaps, can challenge power-holders for more.

Researcher Ann Van Herzele, in her article Local knowledge in action entertainingly narrates the tale of architects co-designing a new park in Antwerp with local residents. Repeatedly, the interpretative frames of the bewildered architects collide with those of community members. “The architects started from the point of view of the place as a ‘void’… while the participants started from the concept of a place that was full of memories and expectations for the future”, Van Herzele reflects. Similarly, the design team are forced to rethink the “order of things” – the norms of the design process “They start thinking in great detail of things which are not on order yet, for example about fences and little gates. They zoom in on bits and pieces while you must think on big lines,” reports an architect with frustration. 

The architectural practices I enjoy working alongside relish those challenges to process: that ‘disorder’. Collaborative practice muf, for example, on one housing project, responded to similar tendencies by carefully drawing all the small details of people’s home life that mattered to them at the start. These fragments, combined, then helped to shape the big moves, rather than being put on the back burner until they were ready for them at the appropriate RIBA (Royal Institute of British Architects) Stage.

Anarchist Gustav Landauer famously said: “The state is not something which can be destroyed by a revolution, but is a condition, a certain relationship between human beings, a mode of human behaviour; we destroy it by contracting other relationships, by behaving differently.” A cheesier way of saying that might be: “Be the change you want to see in the world.” 

Community-centred design, with the spotlight it throws on decision-making and the challenges it poses to power dynamics, is one location where new relationships and behaviours are forged. The present pandemic has highlighted how much society needs to do things differently. It is now impossible to ignore how inequitable and inadequate so many environments are, from poor quality housing, to access to good community and open space. In lockdown, we are denied many of our normal relationships. Yet simultaneously, impressive networks of mutual support and community interaction have formed or strengthened. As – fingers crossed – we move on and out into the world expansively again, I hope there will be many more projects centred on community values, needs and knowledge. And that the ‘otherwise’ will continue to reveal itself.