The planning system – faites vos jeux
Everyone
knows that we have a planning system – but it is by no means self-evident what
it is really for.
In its
origins in the first half of the twentieth century, at a time of unregulated
growth, it was devised principally to address serious concerns to do with
public health and nuisance – for example, so that people did not have to live
next door to a glue factory. But in less than 100 years, mission creep has set in,
and we now have a very complex system that can control – and in fact
micro-manage – almost every aspect of building activity. Control of land use is still at the heart of
the system, even though your neighbour who wants to set up a business is more
likely to be using a laptop than boiling up glue – but the system now concerns
itself with every conceivable detail of amenity and environmental protection.
Each new
planning minister says they want make the system simpler – each leaves office
having made it more complicated.
The planning
system can be seen a paradigm of the ‘nanny state’, more than any other aspect
of public administration. But it has
ended up like this in response to demand.
The person (i.e. voter) who thought last year that their human right to
build a back extension to their house was being infringed when the council told
them that they couldn’t – is the same person who, this year, believes that
their human right to stop their neighbour building a back extension to their
house is being infringed when the extension goes ahead. This textbook manifestation of cognitive
dissonance explains why politicians have given us the system we have.
Given the
complexity of the system, it is no surprise that obtaining a planning consent,
for a project of any size, usually involves a protracted negotiation – a process
now at the heart of the system, although the word negotiation does not appear anywhere
in the Government’s National Planning Policy Framework (NPPF).
The planning
system tends to be more interested in how a proposal relates to the rest of the
world than in the proposal itself – so a local authority’s priorities may be
upside down when compared with those of the client and their design team. And
within a council, elected members may not have the same priorities as officers.
Every
significant planning application is looked on as an opportunity for the local
authority to get things that it wants – within the scheme itself, or outside
it, via the ‘Section 106’ system – a sort of legally sanctioned ‘brown
envelope’ which allows councils to ask applicants to fund things the council
wants to see happen, as long as some tenuous connection with the project can be
demonstrated.
The planning
system has to operate under the pretence that it is rational and objective, but
as practised it is a black art, and highly political, both with a small and a
big ‘p’. A lot may depend on whether
decision makers like the look of your scheme – or indeed of you. And because there are so many different
aspects that are negotiable, while any one point can be considered in the light
of adopted policies and guidance, the degree of discretion within each subject
area is such that in practice there is a table full of chips to be shuffled
around.
Planning
negotiations are generally carried out with the local authority’s planning
officers. Planning decisions for major
projects, however, are made by elected politicians, who will be thinking about
what their electorate will think – even though their task is meant to be to
decide whether a scheme complies with the planning policies that they have set
out. Planning officers are professionals
(unlike politicians) – but their advice to you may be tempered by attempts to
second guess what the elected members will think (and it could be in your
interests that officers do this).
The dynamic
between officers and elected members can vary greatly from planning authority
to planning authority. In some places an authoritative or forceful chief
planner may rule the roost, and members are content for that person to make the
running and vote for or against schemes as they are recommended. In a neighbouring council, members may
undermine officers at every turn.
Decisions can
be capricious – officers may recommend a yes on the basis of twelve months of
discussion, but councillors can say no in a matter of seconds at planning
meeting, while you were trying to find the right page in the agenda.
The human
factor is important in planning. A
client wants their architect to design a great building for them. But without planning permission – in the UK
at least – the great design won’t get built. As well as being a designer, the
architect needs to be a communicator, who can convince officials and politicians
of the merits of their design. They need
to be able to tell a coherent story, in a persuasive way, about how the design
is the right one for the place it will be built, as well as for the client’s
brief. They need to be able to listen to
what is being said on the other side of the table as well, and to be able to
judge when to stick and when to concede.
In
conclusion, my five top tips for clients who seek to find their way through the
territory sketched out above are:
·
Personalities
matter. Build relationships.
·
With
your architect, present your case to the planners confidently, in a way that
shows that you understand the planning system.
·
Remember
that the planning system is more interested in the project from the outside in,
while the client may be more interested in it from the inside out.
·
Work
out what the council would like to gain from your project – which may be quite
different from what you want from it.
·
As
a last resort: remember you can appeal against a refusal. You will get a rational hearing from a
planning inspector, if you didn’t get one from the local authority.
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