The problem with “beauty”
A lesson for you all from my late and great teacher Dr Eric Griffiths: follow the word-count, folks. If you want to work out what’s really happening. Start counting up words. Break out those concordances. And our word of the week: “beautiful”.
Shakespeare only used it 16 times. And most of those were ironic (the Bard was, to be fair, a bigger fan of the word “beauty”). But anyway: that’s 16 times more often than our current National Planning Policy Framework which uses the word precisely… [drumroll]… zero times. Zip. Nada. Niente. Which is also, of course, the same number of times that Shakespeare used the word “planning”.
But here comes the cavalry: in January 2020, the Building Better, Building Beautiful Commission published its “Living with Beauty” report. Which tells us to “ask for beauty” and “refuse ugliness” [also a solid strategy for dating apps, Ed.]. And which set this train in motion:
“Beautiful placemaking should be a legally enshrined aim of the planning system. Great weight should be placed on securing these qualities in the urban and natural environments. This should be embedded prominently as a part of sustainable development in the National Planning Policy Framework (NPPF) and associated guidance, as well as being encouraged via ministerial statement.”
In January 2021, Government responded with a thumbs up. And so we come to the new consultation draft NPPF, which dutifully includes the word “beautiful” no less than 5 times. Into some pretty important paragraphs, too. Being “beautiful” will now be:
Part of the social objectives of the planning system as a whole (§7);
One of the key objectives for large new housing schemes (§73); and
Overall, being “beautiful” is (we’re now told) “fundamental to what the planning and development process should achieve” (§125).
What kind of eejit, you may be thinking, could possibly have any qualms with policies that ask for beauty? Would having those qualms make you anti-beauty? Or (gasp!) pro-ugly?
Well, I’ll tell you what I am: I’m pro-clarity.
Our planning system is built out of words. Laws, policies, guidance, codes - words, words, and more words. Sometimes too many words. All of those words need interpreting. Normally, interpreting them is a job for planners. When things get sticky, it can become a job for judges: see Tesco v Dundee, or Hopkins Homes for two big examples.
Words are not data points. They aren’t algorithms. They’re flexible, mutable creatures. Particularly those really important words in our planning system like “sustainable” or “significant” or “balance”. These are words with texture and nuance. Their meaning depends on their context. One of my favourite American judges, and poster-boy for nominative determinism, Judge Learned Hand (yes that really was his name) - said that “there is no surer way to misread any document than to read it literally”. Amen.
So there’s nothing new about slightly vague, high-level words sitting at the heart of England’s planning system. For instance, what on earth does “sustainable development” mean? It means all kinds of things. Different things to different people in relation to different schemes at different times. And the NPPF has a go at §7-§9 in particular at summarising the headlines. Fair enough. And, you may think, a perfectly respectable overriding objective for a planning system.
So. OK. Starter for 10: what does “beautiful” mean? Serious question. In real life. On the ground. In a place. In a plan. In a scheme. What does being beautiful actually mean?
The OED doesn’t help us (“that quality which delights the senses”). Whose senses are we delighting? How? And why?
As a big idea to build a planning system around, the concept of “beauty” could hardly be more complicated. It’s the topic of an entire school of philosophy for starters. Which is way above the pay-grade of a humble planning law and policy blog like this one. But here are just a few issues with building “beautiful”:
Let’s be honest: we don’t know what it means (remember: in its almost 200 pages the Living With Beauty report used the word “beautiful” hundreds and hundreds of times, but didn’t define it once).
That’s in part because beauty is both subjective and universal (Kant said a fair bit about this - good luck understanding it).
Heck, we can’t even agree on the ground-rules for trying to establish what beauty might mean. Is a building beautiful if it fulfils its purpose? Or should beauty be judged without reference to purpose (another big Kant topic). Does it depend on taste? If so, whose? Yours? Mine? A planning inspector? Some planning inspectors are ex-lawyers - but speaking as a planning lawyer, why on earth would you want to make us the arbiters of beauty?
Is beauty just a reference to good design? And if it is, then why does the NPPF talk separately about outstanding or innovative design, and development which reflects local design policies and government guidance on design… all without mentioning the “B” word? And really, doesn’t “beauty” have all kinds of connotations which go way beyond the kind of design principles in the draft National Model Design Code? Achieving appropriate floor area ratios or the right size front garden may lead to a better designed building, but it has nothing to do with beauty. Does it?
The Government likes talking about “Bath, Belgravia and Bournville” as if that’s some kind of proxy formula for beauty, but (obviously) it isn’t. It isn’t even close. Actually to design new places to look like Bath or Belgravia would take us in the direction of a Disneyworld-esque disaster!
And this is the problem: the Government is now trying to enshrine a big new idea into the heart of our planning system without any kind of consensus on what it actually means. Or even how to approach what it might mean.
So what happens next?
Well, another German philosopher can help us there. Hans-Georg Gadamer explained that the way we understand language is mediated by our prejudices and our history. It’s inevitable. It’s the way we interpret words.
But when it comes to place-making, as Admiral Ackbar once said, it’s a trap. And that’s because place-making is a game which must look forwards. To the horizon. To that brave and ever-changing future. Anticipating how lives will be lived. Enabling more sustainable ways of living them.
Now, it’s all very well “asking for beauty”. But if you ask for something as complicated as that without defining it - or even setting out the beginnings of a definition - and then you enshrine it at the heart of your national planning policy… that’s a recipe for 2 things. First, confusion. Second, turning our eyes backwards. Back towards mock-Georgian or Victorian facades as we work out how on earth we can viably create new Baths, Belgravias or Bournevilles. Back to idealised, misremembered and over-simplified pasts. When what we need are creative and bold answers to new questions.
And here’s the thing: some of those bold answers might not look beautiful to you. Not at first. Not yet. But that’s what’s so wonderful about the way we perceive beauty: our perceptions can change. You’ve seen Shrek, right? Well you get the message, then. Beauty is a fluid and evolving business.
And that’s why the “refuse ugliness” idea doesn’t work. Not even trying to explain what beauty means, then refusing schemes because they don’t chime with our current conception of what’s beautiful leaves us making decisions based on misguided, unexamined and often subconscious prejudice.
Focus on high quality design. Of course. Define your design expectations. Have at it. Reward high quality architecture. Big time. But, for what it’s worth, I’d leave beauty to the poets, the artists and the philosophers. Planners already have enough on our plates.
I hope you’ve enjoyed the snow, #planoraks. Stay safe and well. And keep on planning.
