Abstract
Cultural spaces originating from former military sites often face institutional uncertainty and policy-driven commodification. While local governments frequently support social actors involved in the cultural production and regeneration of brownfields, this support usually diminishes once these spaces become profitable, leading to pressure to recreate rather than sustain their original purpose. This shift raises concerns about the integrity of cultural spaces and their precarious nature in governance and policy. By examining Kasárna Karlín and Metelkova, we aim to understand how and to what extent shifting urban policy priorities, institutional frameworks, governance structures, and power dynamics either facilitate or hinder the actions of social actors and the functioning of cultural spaces. Using actor-centered institutionalism, the study reveals that autonomy and tactical engagement can offer greater cultural resilience than formalized partnerships. These findings challenge assumptions about participatory governance and contribute to ongoing debates about the role of culture in urban redevelopment.
Introduction
The regeneration of former military areas has become an integral component of urban strategies and policies, frequently transforming these sites into cultural centers to promote creative industries, tourism, innovation, and entrepreneurship. Once local governments acquire these lands, they play a pivotal role in converting former military sites for civilian purposes. This is especially true when the military sites are located in highly lucrative and desirable locations, as the increase in land value can generate essential revenue (Bagaeen and Clark 2016).
The regeneration of former military sites often faces challenges related to legitimacy and sustainability. Top-down decision-making, limited citizen participation, conflicting interests, and a lack of consensus can lead to public disputes and tension. Although barracks are historically linked with conflict and terror, even when reimagined, these places remain sites of contestation, where the choices are either “stay put and fight” or “surrender.” According to Camerin (2024), cultural placemaking activities aimed at regenerating former military sites that gain support from institutional actors—who are also landowners, such as local authorities (“institutional legitimation,” 206)—and avoid profit-driven strategies, are less vulnerable to issues like temporality, closure, and displacement. However, such conditions often fail to guarantee legitimacy and sustainability, and the participation of social actors in decision-making, including their needs and preferences, is not always ensured.
While many studies have explored culture-led redevelopment in Western contexts, there is a lack of research on how governance structures influence the cultural regeneration of former military sites in Central and Eastern Europe (CEE). Thus, this study critically reviews and compares the culture-led regeneration of two abandoned military sites: Metelkova, an internationally recognized squat in Ljubljana, and Kasárna Karlín, a relatively new and underexplored case in Prague. This paper addresses this gap by examining how governance structures, power relations, and institutional frameworks shape the actions of social actors. Furthermore, the study investigates the processes and events that have driven the transformation of abandoned military sites into cultural spaces, using the lens of actor-centered institutionalism. It provides a comparative perspective linking region-specific contexts with broader urban regeneration trends. Therefore, the study aims to answer the following research questions: How do social actors navigate the institutional ambiguity and shifting governance structures involved in repurposing two former military sites into cultural spaces? In what ways do governance structures and institutional frameworks enable or restrict social actors and the transformations of cultural spaces? What broader insights do these cases offer for understanding the challenges of culture-led urban regeneration? Finally, the article questions the longevity of collaborative governance arrangements, often regarded as best practice, and finds that the bottom-up approach, embodying strong autonomous resistance, proves more resilient.
This article is organized as follows: after a brief introduction, the second section reviews the literature on culture-led regeneration related to urban and cultural policies, urban governance, and the regeneration of military sites, with a focus on CEE. The third section provides a brief overview of the methodology, highlighting the actor-centered institutionalism approach. The fourth section describes the two case studies and the relevant events for this research. The fifth section discusses four intersecting points concerning governance, power structures, and policy and institutional frameworks that enable, constrain, and provoke contestations among stakeholders. In the final section, we reflect on the contextual, governmental, and institutional challenges identified throughout the study.
Urban Culture-led Regeneration of Abandoned Military Barracks: Literature Review
The Role of Culture in Urban Policies and Urban Regeneration
Urban cultural policies leverage culture as a resource for cities to compete globally (Anttiroiko 2015), serve as a tool for city branding to stimulate growth (Miles and Paddison 2005; Rius Ulldemolins 2014; Cudny, Comunian and Wolaniuk 2020), and reduce economic reliance on other sectors (Dörry, Rosol and Thissen 2016). Culture-focused urban policies shape the nature of involvement and investment in sites designated for cultural regeneration (Simpson 2024). Therefore, the “culturalization of economy” (Bassett et al. 2005) and the emphasis on culture-led regeneration are increasingly of interest to today's governments, where the private sector finds its participation profitable (Cercleux 2021; OECD 2025). These policies often combine culture and economy, and how cultural values and commodity logic are articulated can have diverse implications (Li 2020). Culture is also examined within the context of innovation (Scott 2010) and innovation policy (Oakley 2009), which are frequently directed toward producing exchange value and promoting economic development (Kostis 2021).
Investment in cultural infrastructure, creative districts, and cultural programming is often used to renew underutilized urban areas, boosting both their symbolic and functional value. However, implementing such policies frequently involves conflicting interests and challenges. While cultural regeneration can foster social inclusion and cohesion (Ferilli et al. 2017), these efforts are often marginalized due to the dominant focus on economic outcomes (Miles and Paddison 2005). Regeneration projects often rely on outdated industrial frameworks and lack solid empirical evidence (Evans 2009). Pastak and Kährik (2016) noted that although urban policies claim to enrich community life, new culture-led regeneration projects often target tourists and the creative class rather than local residents. Tourism plays a significant role in cultural strategies by generating revenue that is reinvested in cultural sites (Richards 2020). Consequently, policymakers have been copying “policy tourism” in their search for new urban development ideas (González 2011). Nonetheless, some government-led cultural initiatives recognize the importance of community-driven placemaking over purely investment- and tourism-focused strategies (Cunningham and Platt 2019).
The manifestation of cultural policies in the built environment is shaped by the local context (Jeong and Patterson 2021; Maio and Yigitcanlar 2024). However, Miles (2020) suggested that the rise of the “creative city” often overlooks local identities and worsens social inequalities. Additionally, the creative city concept perceives everyone as creative, leading to a lack of focus for policymakers (Richards 2022). For sustainable cultural growth, policies that support local talent and promote community participation are essential (Comunian 2010). In this context, creative placemaking—a process in which local communities, artists, and government agencies collaborate to revitalize neglected urban areas through cultural initiatives—has gained popularity (Wichowsky, Gaul-Stout and McNew-Birren 2023). There is a strong link between place and creativity, as places provide resources, meaning, and inspiration to individuals (Richards 2021). In democratic societies, alternative non-profit uses of space for cultural purposes are vital since they enrich cities with innovation and diversity (Pixová 2013). Although many cultural quarters or art districts emerge spontaneously, local governments and urban planners often initiate and support this complex urban agglomeration of activities (e.g., Montgomery 2003). Moreover, local authorities utilize urban art for strategic purposes, including urban regeneration, city branding, and the promotion of stigmatized areas and social groups (Campos and Barbio 2021). Although the city authorities’ role is to maintain arts districts as urban commons suitable for all actors (Kumer 2020), local communities often struggle to identify with a vision imposed by strategies, leading to a loss of identity and feelings of alienation (Cunningham and Platt 2019). Moreover, alternative cultural spaces are vulnerable to gentrification; therefore, efforts to preserve these spaces can unintentionally contribute to their commodification and loss of identity (Shaw 2005). Similarly, regenerative cultural policy has emerged in response to concerns about short-term solutions, gentrification, and partial positive outcomes. It moves beyond traditional culture-led regeneration by emphasizing equality and equity, collaborative efforts, and co-creation to achieve policy goals (Dâmaso and Rex 2025). Thus, in this evolving policy environment, culture is more than just about regeneration content. Instead, the design and implementation of cultural policy—balancing social, economic, and environmental factors—are key to creating inclusive, meaningful, and lasting urban changes (Xia, Wang and Cheng 2025).
Governing Culture-led Urban Regeneration
Urban governance is a process through which cities are managed, involving institutions and diverse actors who shape policies, engage in decision-making, allocate resources, and address urban challenges (Kemp, Parto and Gibson 2005). Urban actors and institutions are deeply interconnected and interdependent, shaping city development through formal or informal partnership structures, market forces, and civic engagement (Van Dijk et al. 2017). These partnerships and participation channels result from the intersection of vertical (levels of government) and horizontal (different sectors) structures (Breda-Vazquez, Conceição and Fernandes 2009; Le Galès 2002), sometimes referred to as multi-scalar governance (Brenner 2004). Institutions aim to shape the activities and relationships between urban actors, determine which resources will be controlled by whom, and prevent conflict (Lange and Regini 1989). Furthermore, institutions reflect both the outcomes of urban actor constellations and their interactions, as well as the constraints deliberately set by actors to influence and shape social relations (North 1996). However, new forms of governance emerge from the interaction between public, private, and social actors, raising concerns about democratic legitimacy (Swyngedouw 2005), where different stakeholders face challenges in achieving their goals and asserting dominance (Bourdieu 1984). Lastly, de Certeau's (1984) theory of strategies and tactics relates to the concepts of structure and agency. Strategy refers to organized systems imposed by institutions and dominant actors (e.g., governments and corporations) that define and control space, time, and behavior. In contrast, tactics refer to the everyday, creative, and often subversive actions of individuals lacking institutional power, who use available means to navigate or resist these systems. As we will see shortly, this idea is closely linked to top-down and bottom-up practices.
Massey (2007) argued that in an increasingly interconnected world, the gap between top-down forces and bottom-up urban realities is becoming outdated. Despite new governance approaches and studies showing the complex nature of urban governance or the “blurred” opposition between bottom-up and top-down approaches by merging them (e.g., “bottom-linked governance” in Moulaert 2022; “design-centered governance” in Selloni 2024), these differences still pertain. Bottom-up initiatives are community-led efforts that emerge to meet unmet societal needs, involving grassroots participation and cooperation among citizens and organizations, fostering both formal and informal networks to support social and cultural progress (Galego et al. 2022; Moulaert 2022; Moulaert et al. 2013). Neo-bohemia, for example, exemplifies a bottom-up approach where artists work to develop neglected neighborhoods by blending bohemian traditions with economic growth (Jeong and Patterson 2021) and increasing neighborhood appeal (Lloyd 2002; idea from Zukin 1982). The top-down approach, in contrast, is driven by government or institutional efforts in urban development, concentrating decision-making, implementing policies through formal channels, and focusing on accountability and power structures for effective policy-making and execution (Cowley 2015; Gattupalli 2023; Raco and Freire-Trigo 2019; Tsenkova 2002). Typically, this approach involves hierarchical (vertical) relationships led by experts or technocrats, whereas bottom-up refers to heterarchical (horizontal), community-led governance systems (Raco and Freire-Trigo 2019). In specific contexts, the top-down approach can yield significant outcomes (Cowley 2015), particularly in cases where cultural initiatives depend on governmental support (Camerin 2024; Li 2024).
Some arrangements may stem from non-institutionalized forms or practices, such as squatting (Galuszka 2019; Rossini and Debelle 2018), although there are instances of attempts at institutionalization (Martínez 2020; Pruijt 2003). However, even after legalization, some squats maintain autonomy and self-management (Martínez 2020). In urban regeneration, local communities often mobilize in response to top-down, culture-centered strategies. Such strategies may leave residents feeling excluded from shaping their own futures (Ferilli, Sacco and Tavano 2015). Nevertheless, even institutionalized channels cannot guarantee equal participation among all actors (Isin 2002; Savage and Warde 1993), and the role of participants can still vary—sometimes empowering, sometimes marginalizing (Hajdarowicz 2018)—depending on their level of empowerment (Fung and Wright 2003). Moreover, even participatory governance models are becoming diluted (Degen and García 2012). In some cases, these models become empty rituals, especially when public and private actors have already made decisions, and public debate is “only functional to consensus-making and persuasive communication” (Ferilli et al. 2017, 245, on Peck 2005). Participatory governance may eventually revert to a more traditional, top-down approach in community development projects (Wichowsky, Gaul-Stout and McNew-Birren 2023). Alternatively, local authorities may neutralize or mainstream them into their systems (Moulaert 2022). Therefore, participation and the status of participants in urban governance are “never a done deal” (Wastl-Walter and Staeheli 2005, 1).
Bottom-up initiatives aim to influence the production of urban space and address the lack of divergent uses (Harvey 1973; Lefebvre 1991, 1996), preventing transformation or promoting development in a different direction (Pruijt 2003). If cities and local governments recognize the potential of these initiatives and relinquish interventionism, they could benefit from citizen participation and their resources, as demonstrated by Joo and Park (2016, 862) in their example of “bottom-up state-society collaboration around the urban project.” Literature often presents bottom-up initiatives as optimal models for urban regeneration or as victims of counteraction, control, or dismissal. Urban regeneration that emerged from stakeholders’ collaboration, neither a bottom-up nor a top-down approach, proved to be the most fruitful (Lavanga 2013; Moulaert 2022; Selloni 2024). However, in those cases, social actors are active agents rather than passive recipients, and their agency can influence changes in policies and formal governance systems (Healey 2021).
Governing Culture-led Urban Regeneration in CEE
Participants and partnership arrangements can change over time in response to new circumstances, as urban governance is a dynamic process influenced by local institutions and planning culture (Darchen and Tremblay 2013), and often even by national institutions and political processes (Sellers 2005). Vitálišová, Murray-Svidroňová and Jakuš-Muthová (2021) demonstrate that the level of stakeholder and citizen participation in CEE is relatively low, possibly due to favoring a “top-down implementation approach” (10) and a “relatively short tradition of democracy principle implementation, lower level of citizen awareness, and a lack of systematic approach in the development of stakeholder participation” (11). Favoring a top-down approach is therefore linked to the autocratic planning styles of the past and reflects a disregard for the benefits of local knowledge (Sagan and Grabkowska 2012). Moreover, in CEE, as political actors often act as individuals with loose agendas, it is difficult to predict how contextual factors (economic interests and fluid actor constellations) will influence their actions (Lorenz et al. 2024). Although limited public funding, fragmented governance structures, and low civic participation often hinder long-term planning efforts, some community-driven regeneration initiatives based on cross-sectoral partnerships have breathed new life into previously neglected areas, helping to close the development gap with cities in Western Europe (Popa, Pop and Marian-Potra 2025). In Czechia, opposing interests (especially between Prague's city districts and the City of Prague, more in Hudeček 2020), inadequate cooperation between different urban actors and institutions (Cizler 2014), investors’ disrespect for alternative cultural solutions (Fragner 2010), and a lack of involvement and dialogue with diverse actors, along with an undervaluation of their role in brownfield regeneration (Klusáček et al. 2018) are some of the main barriers to brownfield regeneration. Interestingly, Slovenia scores higher than the OECD average on the Infrastructure Governance Index, indicating relatively high citizen and stakeholder participation and engagement in decision-making processes (OECD 2023).
Regeneration of Abandoned Military Sites
Urban policies focus on repurposing brownfields for various uses. A brownfield site refers to land or property that has been previously developed or used but is no longer in full use. It may still be partly occupied or operational, or it could be vacant, abandoned, or potentially contaminated (Alker et al. 2000; Rey, Laprise and Lufkin 2022). Brownfields are often located in inner-city areas (near the city center), making them attractive for broader regeneration projects and culture-driven policies, especially in neglected urban zones (Balsas 2022). Their structures (spacious, high ceilings, good soundproofing, etc.) offer opportunities for diverse adaptations (Fisher-Gewirtzman 2016; Lavanga, Stegmeijer and Haijen 2008). Converting brownfields into cultural sites has become a global trend (Lavanga 2013) and is frequently part of urban regeneration strategies (Andres and Grésillon 2011; Williams and Dair 2007). While the government plays a crucial role in regenerating and transforming brownfields for civilian use (Bagaeen and Clark 2016), it also encourages private developers to participate in their transformation (Smith 1996). Andres and Grésillon (2011) argued that the success of cultural brownfield transformation depends on urban context, governance, and regulation, resulting in three types: alternative (conflict-driven), branding (policy-aligned), and creative (economy-focused).
The building, dismantling, and regeneration of military sites have been ongoing over the last two centuries as they have been subject to urban renewal processes and city expansion (Camerin 2022). Geopolitical shifts after the Cold War led to significant reductions in military forces, resulting in the reorganization, rationalization, and closure of military sites worldwide (Camerin and Córdoba Hernández 2023). However, many former military sites remain unused due to the complexity of redevelopment and public mistrust stemming from their previous military use, although there are still many successful transformations (examples in Rey, Laprise and Lufkin 2022). If abandoned military sites are not demolished to make way for other developments, adaptive reuse often serves as a key strategy for placemaking—preserving existing structures and open spaces while adapting them for new functions (Camerin 2024). Conversely, sustainable regeneration goes beyond physical reuse or reconfiguration and involves creating lasting economic, social, and cultural activities to replace the original military functions (Bagaeen and Clark 2016). A thorough understanding of each site's historical development is essential in envisioning appropriate futures for these spaces. It is also vital to identify the key stakeholders who hold the power to influence their transformation (Clark and Marks 2020).
Camerin (2021, 2024) and Camerin and Córdoba Hernández (2023, 2024) have recently offered insights into the disposal and redevelopment of former military sites in the Spanish and Italian neoliberal contexts, where neoliberal public sector restructuring has made military land disposal profit-driven and market-oriented. Spanish case studies show that the success of regeneration is closely linked to the interaction of multiple factors, including timing, complexity, cost, and the degree to which regeneration is influenced by profit-driven goals, with speculative regeneration becoming a dominant strategy (Camerin and Córdoba Hernández 2023). Meanwhile, a case study from France emphasizes that cuts in defense policy and market-driven approaches led to diverse land regimes and uneven political influence for local governments (Artioli 2016). In contrast, successful long-term cases of abandoned military sites in Italy highlight the power of informal actions to resist neoliberal dynamics. Camerin (2024) illustrated the crucial role of public ownership, which is more likely to support participatory planning processes and formally recognize informal uses.
Therefore, especially in the context of cultural heritage, a dual approach to military site regeneration is recognized. A top-down strategy where military sites are redeveloped into profit-driven spaces versus a bottom-up approach where urban commons hold value for the community. In most cases, barracks were meant to generate revenue for the state or private owners, particularly in prime locations. Conversely, self-managed social centers occupying former barracks aim for social inclusivity (Camerin 2021). While several studies have already offered insights into the role of governance in the regeneration of abandoned military sites in countries with longer-standing neoliberal traditions, there is still a lack of research exploring how governance functions in contexts with more recent neoliberal traditions, especially through comparative perspectives.
Military Site Regeneration in CEE
Due to the transition process in CEE, demilitarization took place in the 1990s and 2000s, later compared to Western countries (Hercik et al. 2014). Many abandoned military sites have potential for socio-economic revitalization, especially within cities (Kádár 2014), or are utilized to mitigate urban sprawl when situated in the outskirts (Szabó, Kovalcsik and Kovács 2025). While in developed economies, culture has long been an integral part of urban development strategies, in post-socialist cities, this approach was still emerging (Slach and Boruta 2012), but it has since become a common practice, attracting increasing research attention (examples in Nedučin and Krklješ 2022).
Hercik et al. (2014) highlighted the Czech context, where former military sites face complications in property ownership transfer, property rights, and other political and legal matters, unlike the simpler sale of industrial sites to private actors. Ownership can change through transfers or sales by the state or local government to private entities. For example, in Czechia, a military site may be transferred free of charge from the Army of the Czech Republic to the local government as unneeded property, but the transfer contract limits local decision-making on its new function. Their regeneration and new function further depend on the needs of municipalities and the interests of new owners (Hercik et al. 2014), often involving private actors eager to invest in profitable new functions (Glintić 2015), such as business opportunities and innovation (Hercik and Szczyrba 2012). Consequently, regenerated brownfields are usually found in municipalities with high development potential, characterized by active local businesses, developed infrastructure, and proximity to regional centers (Frantál et al. 2013). These larger, formerly industrial or military areas are well-connected to major transportation routes and benefit from local government support and funding (Osman et al. 2015). However, Klusáček et al. (2019) revealed that incorporating local stakeholder perspectives is crucial for successful regeneration, especially given the uncertain socio-economic and political conditions typical of a post-socialist context.
In Slovenia, military facilities can be transferred to local governments at no cost; however, only local or regional development agencies can be designated users. Therefore, the local government must prepare a project that details the adaptation, intended use, and financial plan, showing public interest and job creation or retention. The transfer will occur if the Ministry of Defense approves the project (Glintić 2015).
Military brownfield protection as a heritage in post-socialist countries started later and developed within specific institutional frameworks. Transforming these sites is complex and requires cooperation among various actors in urban spaces (Morar et al. 2021). Peric and Milus (2021) examined deliberative planning practices in redeveloping military sites and emphasized the importance of stakeholder involvement. Matković and Jakovčić (2020) emphasized the role of data-driven decision-making, which indicates a shift toward integrated and participatory strategies. However, Jevremović et al. (2021) pointed out the lack of public dialogue and the commercialization of military heritage sites. Similarly, Nedučin and Krklješ (2022) suggested that creative brownfield redevelopment relies on simulating bottom-up decision-making with unspecified top-down policies. These are common practices in post-socialist cities, revealing a lack of experience in brownfield regeneration and its governance, as well as the need for meaningful involvement of non-institutional actors in decision-making.
Methodology
This article critically examines and compares the culture-led regeneration of two urban military brownfields: Kasárna Karlín in Prague and Metelkova in Ljubljana. The study reviews literature, analyzes media reports, policy documents, official websites of the local government (both city and district levels), and websites and social media pages of Kasárna Karlín and Metelkova to explore the processes, events, and power dynamics that shaped their transformation. By systematically analyzing media narratives, public statements, and policy frameworks, the research investigates how interactions among actors influenced the reimagining of these spaces and evaluates the role of institutional structures in either supporting or constraining cultural functions.
Media reports offer insights into public discourse, stakeholder perspectives, and the evolving narratives around contested spaces, capturing changes in how former military sites are imagined over time. Aware of potential bias and support for certain agendas, we aimed to critically analyze the texts and focus on those that sought to represent the viewpoints of most stakeholders. Simultaneously, analyzing policy documents allows for a deeper understanding of formal governance structures, regulations, and institutional mechanisms that influence the transformation of cultural spaces. However, their vagueness made it difficult to grasp the intended goals, suggesting that this was done intentionally to keep options open for practical implementation. Lastly, official statements on government websites and social media help us understand the interaction between the public and social actors, including the decisions public actors make using their power, the actions social actors take to achieve their goals, and the ideas, preferences, and reasons behind those actions. Together, these methods provide a comprehensive view of the interplay between agency, power, policy, and ideas concerning the cultural transformation of these places. However, some events and negotiations might not be covered by media, websites, or social media, and secondary data might not fully capture the motivations and experiences of involved actors.
Given the mutually constitutive relationship between actors and institutions (Jackson 2010), this study applies Scharpf's actor-centered institutionalism (ACI) (1997) to identify key actors, analyze their interactions and mutual influences, and examine how power relations shape the culture-led regeneration of Kasárna Karlín and Metelkova barracks. The ACI approach emphasizes the strategic agency of actors in leveraging institutions to promote their interests. Therefore, governance and policy outcomes are shaped by the interplay between actors and institutions, highlighting the dynamic relationship among individual preferences, cognitive and normative orientations, and the institutional context in which decisions are made. Institutions, in turn, structure interactions and constrain or enable certain actions, creating a framework for strategic decision-making. This method underscores the importance of understanding how ideas, preferences, and institutional contexts develop and interact to influence governance and policy results, especially since the distribution of actors and their respective power is highly location-specific (Scharpf 1997). Although ACI acknowledges that institutions influence actors’ interactions and behaviors, it concentrates more on actors and their institutional relationships, a perspective particularly common in European scholarship (Weissert and Fahey 2018).
Despite its analytical usefulness, ACI faces criticism regarding its treatment of agency and structure. By focusing mainly on individual actors, this approach may underestimate the influence of systemic forces. Although it provides a somewhat limited perspective on institutional change (Emmenegger 2021), this aspect can be viewed in this study as a result of interactions among various actors. Moreover, it often assumes that actors are rational, strategic, and fully informed (Fürstenberg 2016), neglecting the roles of emotions, identities, and incomplete knowledge that influence actions—factors that may be necessary for studies aiming to predict behavior. However, this study concentrates on a posteriori knowledge and analyzes actions that have already been taken. Furthermore, this approach helps us understand the motivations of actors and institutions to support regeneration (Franz 2015). Therefore, the study further examines what decisions were made, how they were made, and by whom within the given institutional framework and context, as well as the dynamics and characteristics of actors’ relationships. The actor maps (Figures 1 and 2) in the empirical section illustrate the interactions, relationships, and power relations among current and relevant actors (those that are not relevant or have been relevant in the past are excluded from the analysis). Thus, in the following section, when applicable, relationships will be highlighted with reference to these actor maps. Finally, the comparison aims to (i) position social actors within formal power structures, considering both institutional constraints and uncertainties, and (ii) outline the role of urban and cultural policies and their relationships with local authorities.
Actors' map of Kasárna Karlín. Source. Own fieldwork and elaboration.
Actors' map of Metelkova. Source. Own fieldwork and elaboration.
Case Study Analysis
The following case studies—Kasárna Karlín in Prague and Metelkova in Ljubljana—have been selected for their shared origins as former military sites transformed into cultural spaces, reflecting similar trajectories of adaptive reuse, with political and economic interests influencing the process. Situated within the post-socialist context of CEE, both sites offer fertile ground for examining the interplay of power, governance, and urban regeneration. While Metelkova has been extensively studied, Kasárna Karlín remains underexplored, allowing for a comparative lens on divergent governance models and how these unfold under external pressures. Together, they provide empirical substance for applying ACI and contribute to broader debates on urban commons, participatory governance, and brownfield redevelopment.
Kasárna Karlín in Prague
Brief Overview of Urban and Cultural Policies in Prague
The Strategic Plan for Prague 2030 1 envisions the city as a thriving creative hub. It emphasizes leveraging Prague's rich cultural capital through cultural innovation and support for cultural institutions to enhance its international reputation. The plan also promotes a business-friendly environment and fosters innovation to drive economic growth. Improving educational infrastructure and promoting lifelong learning are prioritized to build a skilled workforce. Additionally, the strategy focuses on enhancing public spaces and promoting cultural tourism to make Prague more appealing to both residents and visitors. These initiatives aim to maintain Prague's prosperity and innovation capacity while preserving its cultural identity. The plan also highlights civic associations’ potential and initiatives in creating cultural events and advocating for support beyond financial aid, such as discounted rents and reduced bureaucracy. Strengthening communication between the municipality and citizens is deemed crucial, with the Prague Creative Centre cited as a successful example of fostering innovative ideas and providing alternatives to commercial activities. Moreover, the Cultural Policy of the Capital City of Prague 22+ 2 identifies five fundamental principles for the city's cultural policy: sustainability, accessibility, openness, innovation, and diversity. These principles are meant to guide both the city and its cultural community. Different projects that connect culture and creativity with innovation are also part of Prague's Innovation Strategy. 3 Lastly, Prague's Housing Development Strategy 4 responds to the housing crisis by aiming to build new, affordable, quality housing, emphasizing repurposing unused brownfield sites. Additionally, it stresses the preservation of cultural spaces by safeguarding and developing public spaces for cultural and social activities.
Karlin Neighborhood
The Kasárna Karlín (Karlin Barracks in English) is situated in Karlin (part of Prague 8 district; Figure 3), Prague's former industrial and working-class inner-city neighborhood. During socialism, the neighborhood received insufficient financial support and began deteriorating (Ouředníček and Temelová 2009). In addition to the neighborhood's stigmatization, it was also regarded as unsafe due to a high concentration of the Roma community (Ouředníček et al. 2020). Around the turn of the century, especially after the floods in 2002, Karlin underwent significant redevelopment (Ilík and Ouředníček 2007), transforming it into Prague's modern business hub, which intensified commercialization and gentrification, resulting in an increased socioeconomic status and a rising number of foreign residents (Petrović and Ouředníček 2025).
Prague's map with Kasárna Karlín's location. Source. Author: Taja Ivanc.
Kasárna Karlín
Today, Kasárna Karlín is a protected cultural monument in Czechia, covering over 8,000 square meters (Figure 4). It was built by the Austro-Hungarian army in the 1840s to address the shortage of housing for soldiers. The barracks housed different military units and functions until 2008, after which the courtyard was used as a parking lot. 5
Courtyard of Kasárna Karlín (2021). Source. Photo by Adela Petrovic.
In 2013, the Ministry of Defense attempted to privatize the barracks, but as there was no buyer, it was transferred to the Ministry of Justice in 2016 as surplus property. The Ministry of Justice initially planned to use the building as a new Palace of Justice. However, since the project required significant investment and an architectural competition, they looked for a temporary use.6, 7 The vice-mayor of Prague 8 district at that time approached Pražské Centrum, a cultural association led by the “cultural developer” Matěj Velek, proposing to move its cultural activities from another brownfield that the association had successfully regenerated. In 2017, the Ministry of Justice signed a three-year rent-free lease agreement with the possibility of extension with Pražské Centrum. The association's goal was for the non-profit sector to manage the barracks and transform them into a cultural center hosting various cultural activities. 8 The project also included relocating the Karlin Studios Gallery into the barracks from an old factory building that was designated for redevelopment in the same neighborhood. 9
Kasárna Karlín opened to the public in June 2017 as a multi-purpose cultural space with a café, cinema, sand pit, gallery, bar, concert hall, and children's playground. The buildings were preserved in their nearly original state, aside from new outbuildings in the courtyard, interior modifications, and renovations to meet safety, hygiene, and operational standards. It hosted a diverse program of events in partnership with Karlin Studio Gallery (Figure 1). Since they operated as a non-profit, the income from event admissions and the sale of refreshments at the café and bar was used for salaries, further renovations, and the purchase of new equipment. 10
In 2020, as the Ministry of Justice lost interest in building a Palace of Justice, the Office for Government Representation in Property Affairs took over the management and extended the lease for Pražské Centrum, but also launched a tender for a new tenant. 11 Soon, one by one, new ideas regarding Kasárna Karlín's future began to emerge. Prime Minister Babiš, for example, proposed accommodating student dormitories and state administration offices. Other politicians and the wider public supported affordable housing for students, including the Pražské Centrum. 12, 13 Daniel Mazur (Prague City Councillor for IT, Smart City, Science, Research and Innovations) proposed to turn Kasárna Karlín into an innovation center and a business incubator, 14 which received the widest support, and its implementation started at the beginning of 2023, with a promise to keep the cultural center operated by Pražské Centrum. 15
After years of effort, the change in ownership took place at the start of 2024, marking a turning point for Kasárna Karlín. Following an agreement with the government, the Karlin barracks building was registered as the property of the City of Prague in the real estate cadastre. Due to its strategic location, Prague's management ordered an analysis of the building's optimal use by Prague Development Company by September 2024, along with revisions to the zoning plan. Although major changes were anticipated, Pražské Centrum remained optimistic about the future of the cultural center and expected increased cooperation with the city authorities.
16
A series of roundtable discussions was scheduled with representatives from monument preservation, Prague 8 district, local authorities, Pražské Centrum, and other stakeholders to discuss the regeneration plans,17,
18
which will probably primarily concern the main historical building.
19
After the regeneration, it is planned that about one-third of the barracks’ leasable areas will be leased at market rates, another third will be used for city-preferred activities, and the remaining spaces will be developed to support educational needs while maintaining the current cultural center.
20
Whether it will continue beyond that is up for debate—but with every powerplayer in the city eyeing the massive property, there is every chance it will be a posh new residential complex, resplendent with a few hundred Airbnb apartments in the next five years. Enjoy it while it lasts. (Insight Cities on Kasárna Karlín)
Two dozen residents of the Karlín district and former users of Kasárna Karlín gathered in February 2025 to seek answers about when Kasárna Karlín would reopen. The municipal spokesman stated that resolving the Karlín Barracks issue is the city's responsibility. Proceedings to ban its use continue, as the builder's incomplete permit application still awaits completion. 27 Additionally, visitors, mostly families from Karlín, peacefully gathered in front of the barracks gate, bringing memories of the place to support its reopening (Figure 1). 28 In May 2025, nearly a year later, only the barracks’ courtyard reopened to the public in a provisional mode that complies with existing rules. 29 However, the fate of Kasárna Karlín remains uncertain. Firstly, it is still dealing with conflicts and complaints from residents about noise, which could once again disrupt its operation (Figure 1). Secondly, although its activities somewhat align with the new zoning plan as a multi-functional space, the regeneration and incorporation of other functions into Kasárna barracks might displace or require modifications to Pražské Centrum's activities. 30 Moreover, considering the recent regeneration governance arrangements and plans for other brownfields in Karlín 31 and the nearby neighborhood of Žižkov, 32 there is no doubt that the city authorities’ vision seems to dominate, likely through collaboration between the public and private sectors.
Metelkova in Ljubljana
Brief Overview of Urban and Cultural Policies in Ljubljana
In the Strategic Spatial Plan of the City of Ljubljana, 33 culture is identified as one of the main pillars of the spatial vision for 2025. The plan includes revitalization, preservation, and promotion of alternative cultural hotspots. Since further efforts are also connected to Ljubljana's candidacy for the European Capital of Culture in 2025, the Strategy for the Development of Culture 2023–2027 was prepared, emphasizing the importance of cultural and creative tourism as part of the city's development and integrating cultural tourism as a key element in enhancing the city's cultural identity, visibility, and success. 34 Moreover, the Strategic Guidelines for Cultural Tourism and Events 2022–2027 aimed to connect the cultural, creative, and tourism sectors to establish a global reputation as a city of culture and creativity until 2027. 35 Strategic plans aim to provide new spatial capacity for cultural and other activities by redeveloping degraded areas. 36
Tabor Neighborhood
Metelkova barracks are located in the city center of Ljubljana, near the central station, in the Tabor neighborhood (Figure 5). Tabor's development began in the late nineteenth century with the construction of military barracks, the Church of the Sacred, and industrial buildings. In the 1990s, the neighborhood shifted from a mixed-use area to mainly residential, 37 which increased population immigration and growth alongside higher income and education levels. Like Ljubljana's old city center, the neighborhood has experienced gentrification and touristification since the early 2000s (Bibič 2003; Rebernik 2004, 2013). As the area's population ages, residents often criticize its focus on nighttime cultural activities and their negative effects, such as noise and vandalism (Cerar and Peterlin 2010). Pirnat (2021) identifies Tabor as a more problematic part of Ljubljana's city center concerning criminal activity, mainly public order offenses. Media reports highlight issues like public drug use, alcoholism, and homelessness. In response, city officials established the Day Centre for Drug Harm Reduction, along with two existing centers serving people with addiction issues. Although residents complain about disruptions to their daily lives and private property, there has been little response from the authorities. 38 – 40
Ljubljana's map with Metelkova's location. Source. Author: Taja Ivanc.
Metelkova
The Metelkova barracks cover 12,500 square meters and were built by the Austro-Hungarian Empire between 1882 and 1911 (Figure 6). After Slovenia gained independence in 1991, the southern part of Metelkova became the property of the Ministry of Culture for museum purposes and was later added to the Register of Immovable Cultural Heritage. Today, this area functions as a large museum complex, hosting the Slovenian Ethnographic Museum, the National Museum of Slovenia, and the Ljubljana Museum of Modern Art (Bibič 2003; Rodríguez-Barcón and Sousa 2023; Jelesijević 2013). However, when people talk about “Metelkova,” they usually refer to the northern part of the complex, which is known for its distinctive and controversial identity (Figure 7).
Main square in AKC Metelkova mesto (2024). Source. Photo by Taja Ivanc.
Division of Metelkova (2025). Source. Author: Taja Ivanc.
As the barracks were abandoned in November 1991, an activist group representing the “Network for Metelkova” asked the government to repurpose the site as a creative laboratory for artistic production. In May 1992, Ljubljana's city council approved the proposed plan for the barracks’ seven buildings. However, in 1993, the barracks’ demolition was ordered (Bibič 2003), and since then, relations with the authorities have been strained. In response, around 200 artists squatted in the buildings in the northern part of the complex. Although squatting led to conflicts with the city authorities, who shut off water and electricity and ordered eviction, the squatters resisted and managed to keep the premises. 41 In 1995, Metelkova became a squat, designated itself as the “Autonomous Cultural Center Metelkova Mesto” (AKC Metelkova Mesto), 42 and began reorganizing to cater to the needs of autonomous cultural production in the northern area, which includes clubs, several artists’ studios, and Celica Hostel, since ticket sales at cultural events are the main source of funding. Meanwhile, the NGO sector was emerging in the “buffer zone” between the alternative (north) and mainstream (south), known as Metelkova 6 (Jelesijević 2013; Ntounis and Kanellopoulou 2017). The division of the once-unified complex is apparent today, and the topography reflects symbolic and economic relationships among users along with the history of power shifts in art, activism, and community activities (Jelesijević 2013). In 2008, after 12 years of negotiations, the City of Ljubljana became the legal owner of the Metelkova Mesto site, which was previously owned by the Ministry of Defense. 43 At that time, the mayor (Zoran Janković) assured that the area would be designated for alternative culture in the zoning documents and is therefore not attractive to potential investors, adding that users of AKC Metelkova mesto can continue managing the area autonomously. 44 Mayor Janković often highlights that he was the first mayor of Ljubljana to recognize and support Metelkova cultural space, praising its cultural importance in the media and promoting Ljubljana as a tourist destination.45, 46 Nevertheless, the cooperation between local authorities and AKC Metelkova Mesto remained complicated and minimal, causing numerous disagreements. Still, AKC Metelkova Mesto is trying to avoid collaborating in cultural events with the city, especially those supported and co-financed by the City of Ljubljana, to maintain its autonomy (Rodríguez-Barcón and Sousa 2023; Figure 2). 47
Since 2008, complaints about noise in Metelkova have been occasionally reported. In 2022, Mayor Janković stated that for the past five or six years, there have been virtually no problems with Metelkova. 48 However, recent tensions have arisen between AKC Metelkova mesto and the city, mainly over ownership and zoning issues. For instance, in 2017, the city announced a public auction to sell the Celica hostel. The founders of Celica and KUD Sestava (a cultural association) urged the city to stop what they see as a controversial sale and privatization attempt that could harm its cultural and tourism value. Mayor Janković stated that, regardless of ownership, the building will remain a hotel and remain protected. The auction failed, and in 2018, it was decided that it would remain municipal property and be managed by the Ljubljana Castle Public Institution. 49 – 51 In 2021, the city of Ljubljana proposed changes to the Metelkova area in the City Spatial Plan to divide it into two spatial units and build an extension to the Celica hostel and a parking house, which would reduce the space of the autonomous zone. AKC Metelkova supported Hotel Celica and strongly opposed the plan, interpreting it as an attempt to replace cultural activities with those focused on capital's profit interests. Therefore, they asked the city to engage in dialogue and respect Metelkova's autonomy (Figure 2). 52
The NGOs at Metelkova 6 received notice from the Ministry of Culture to vacate the premises by January 31, 2021, as it intends to use the building for its purposes and plans renovations, but not until 2023 due to a lack of funds. AKC Metelkova Mesto saw this action as an attack on civil society and independent culture, given their historical role in promoting democracy and demilitarization. It criticized the government's actions as authoritarian and expressed its intention to resist eviction and support Metelkova 6 (Figure 2), emphasizing the cultural and public services it provides. 53 Moreover, in 2021, a special police unit raided Metelkova after anti-government protests, just two days after the pro-government and neo-Nazi group, Yellow Vests, had gathered in Tabor and called for the destruction of Metelkova (Figure 2). 54 With the election of the new Slovene government in 2022, the Ministry of Culture announced that NGOs are allowed to stay at Metelkova 6. They also plan to halt all legal actions against them and cancel the plan to establish the Natural History Museum at Metelkova 6. 55
Metelkova has been experiencing ongoing incidents and threats, and its strained relationship with local authorities and police has worsened (Figure 2). Since 2018, the area has seen an increase in drug use, resale, and related violence, despite AKC Metelkova Mesto's ongoing anti-drug campaigns. 56 The latest incident was an attack on Metelkova by a Moroccan migrant group, with the police's delayed reaction, according to AKC Metelkova Mesto. 57 The local authorities blame AKC Metelkova Mesto for being a place of increasing drug resale by migrants, while AKC Metelkova Mesto is calling on the local authorities and police to combat criminal activities and maintain social order, as that is their duty (Siegrist 2023). 58
In January 2025, discussions about threats to AKC Metelkova resurfaced. The construction of a new medical center next to the complex is scheduled to start in the fall, which will involve demolishing a wall and part of the outdoor area of the Gala Hala club. Users have limited information about the project and criticize the municipality for its lack of transparent communication. “The existence of Metelkova is always somewhat at risk, but we are strong from within,” said the head of the Gala Hala club. Meanwhile, the municipality assured that AKC Metelkova remains an integral part of the city. 59
Comparative Analysis and Discussion
The following text will highlight the similarities and differences between the analyzed cases, as detailed in the table (Table 1), and provide a critical discussion. Although Kasárna Karlín and Metelkova have different development trajectories and lifespans, both are dynamic and contested spaces. This is likely because of their central locations in highly lucrative, gentrified urban areas (Petrović and Ouředníček 2025; Rebernik 2013), where brownfield regeneration began relatively recently (in CEE from the 90 s). Their origins as former military barracks—state-owned, later granted protected status, and spatially large—also add to their regeneration potential, offering extensive open areas and layouts suitable for mixed-use transformation (Bagaeen and Clark 2016; Fisher-Gewirtzman 2016; Lavanga, Stegmeijer and Haijen 2008).
Case Study Comparison.
Source. Rodrigez-Barcon, Sousa, 2023; own fieldwork and elaboration.
The two cases have four intersection points within the policy and institutional framework, governance, and power structures. First, both cases demonstrated the struggles of social actors who find themselves at the intersection of complex power mechanisms and relations among public actors. However, in the case of Metelkova, despite conflicts, it has existed without major disruptions for over three decades. As a bottom-up initiative, fighting for their need for artistic and urban space production strengthened their sense of “ownership” and active citizenship. The self-empowerment, including a strong social and community-led focus (Andres and Grésillon 2011), kept them as a powerful actor capable of positioning themselves as superior within the governance structure. Thus, bottom-up, non-institutionalized initiatives demonstrated greater resilience and longevity by exercising strategic agency and exploiting regulatory gray zones. They resisted formalization while co-opting their cultural capital to build legitimacy and resist eviction. This illustrates ACI's insight that even without formal power, actors can influence institutional evolution through persistent tactical engagement (de Certeau 1984). Still, the question remains: when will the local authorities stop turning a blind eye to legal irregularities and discrepancies and use greater force to impose projects aligned with their development principles? Whereas, according to the literature, governance arrangements that emerge from stakeholders’ collaboration tend to be more successful (Lavanga 2013; Moulaert 2022; Selloni 2024). However, in the case of Kasárna Karlín, its role as an “equal” partner in a collaborative governance arrangement proved unsuccessful, where engagement did not lead to empowerment (Fung and Wright 2003). Kasárna Karlín's reliance on negotiated legitimacy through formal agreements reveals a more fragile form of agency, dependent on institutional goodwill rather than strategic leverage. Despite participating in collaborative governance structures, Pražské Centrum lacked the bargaining power to influence zoning decisions once the city's development priorities changed. This case highlights how temporary use agreements and governance negotiations reflect broader tensions between local government development goals and community-led cultural initiatives. Instead of merely documenting events, this study demonstrates the fragility of collaborative governance when economic interests start to dominate cultural space decision-making.
Second, their fate is shaped and directed by urban and cultural policies, as well as by their relationships with local authorities. Metelkova is a cultural center that emerged organically and autonomously, resisting displacement, demolition, and assaults over the years. However, given its current status as one of the top tourist attractions in Ljubljana, it appears to align well with Ljubljana's vision and the goals outlined in the Strategic Plan. Therefore, due to its international reputation, it would likely do more harm to the local authorities if they banned it. Instead, they are looking for ways to commercialize and promote it as a cultural and tourism commodity. The question then becomes, what would happen to Metelkova if city authorities found its use no longer profitable? Additionally, although Metelkova aims to remain independent and avoid institutional and financial support from authorities, to what extent can we consider it autonomous if its trajectory closely follows policies? Still, its informal status was gradually legitimized not through legal codification but by the ability of actors to some degree, stabilize their presence and embed themselves into the city's cultural-tourism agenda. This mutual adjustment demonstrates ACI's logic on how actor-led practices can de facto influence institutional expectations, as discussed by Healey (2021). Conversely, although Kasárna Karlín grew out of collaboration with district authorities and later with national and city officials, it was suddenly shut down and banned by the “collaborating partner.” Although it was partially reopened a year later, new zoning plans and regeneration trends leave its future uncertain. Politicians’ announcements and media coverage suggest that Kasárna Karlín might become an innovation center, aligning with Prague's urban and cultural policies that promote a close relationship between culture and innovation. In this context, the cooperation resembles a “Potemkin” participatory governance, maintaining appearances during the brownfield's revival until the institutional and economic conditions for its more profitable use were in place. Moreover, this case shows how institutional changes, such as transferring property ownership to the City of Prague, suddenly disempowered cultural actors, highlighting the uneven distribution of institutional control in collaborative governance that shifts toward a top-down approach (Wichowsky, Gaul-Stout and McNew-Birren 2023). There is also a misalignment between the Strategic Plan and actual practice, as this social initiative has not cut through bureaucracy; instead, it has made it more complicated. Ultimately, in both cases, despite social actors’ efforts to maintain their roles and continue their activities, they have been steered by the local authorities into the “policy whirlpool,” which is allegedly culture-led. Thus, despite the common perception of culture as a vehicle for urban regeneration, this case illustrates that one's perception of culture is also relative, shaping stakeholders’ visions and interests, which can lead to stagnation, disruption, uncertainty, and conflict.
Third, both face institutional constraints and uncertainties despite their status, reputation, and identity. As mentioned above, although Metelkova is a squat functioning autonomously beyond authorization, its cultural heritage status does not guarantee protection from future developments or speculative projects (Rodriguez-Barcon and Sousa 2023). Furthermore, its international fame, which attracts many tourists either independently or through official Ljubljana guided tours to its events and hostel, currently safeguards Metelkova's continued existence. In contrast, Kasárna Karlín was considered a model of good cultural governance, due to collaboration and inclusion of social actors in planning, managing resources, and navigating complex bureaucracy caused by ownership and urban regulation constraints (licensed and rent-free lease agreement). The likelihood of Kasárna Karlín's complete revival remains uncertain. However, should this issue arise again, Pražské Centrum has expressed willingness to renegotiate the resumption of its activities, as shown recently. Nevertheless, their participation in planning negotiations regarding new functions and regeneration plans remains uncertain, as does the consensus between Prague 8 district and the City of Prague. Even more uncertain is what the new “multi-functional” zoning plan will specify and which functions it will permit. Consequently, the temporary lease agreement and the lack of zoning clarity have left Pražské Centrum structurally vulnerable, reflecting ACI's perspective that institutions don’t just constrain behavior; they also selectively empower actors by shaping the rules of engagement. Despite private actors not actively participating in the governance of Kasárna Karlín and Metelkova, the potential for their involvement persists, evidenced by the privatization attempt, plans to include private actors in both, and the lack of transparency in communication and decision-making. This is not surprising, as tourism and innovation are profitable, especially in lucrative, gentrified areas.
Fourth, political beliefs and attitudes toward authority and institutions heavily influence how these cultural centers emerged and operate. Although both military sites are city-owned, this did not seem to motivate local authorities to promote participation among all stakeholders in decision-making or to formalize the status and rights of social actors, as shown in the study by Camerin (2024). Since its establishment, Metelkova has rejected authority and formal instructions, and its cooperation with authorities is minimal. However, it recognizes police authority and relies on it to maintain social order and fight violence and drug-related crimes. It has created its own set of rules and maintains a horizontal governance style within, promoting democratic values and member participation (Kovič 2021). It also avoids engaging in broader decision-making with other stakeholders to preserve its independence. Politically motivated and involved, Metelkova is the birthplace of urban social movements inspired by the “right to the city” movements worldwide, fighting against neoliberalism, government repression, rising right-wing authoritarianism, and gentrification. It is particularly sensitive to shifts in the government's political orientation. Conversely, Kasárna Karlín is not politically motivated and cannot be considered a movement. We know little about its influence, if any, on the change of the zoning plan, but based on recent trends and the new zoning plan, there are signs of potential speculative motives by local authorities to adjust zoning for more profit-driven uses. Their main goal is community building and providing an inclusive space with cultural programs for all social groups. The response to its closure (petition and protests) demonstrated a strong and cohesive community. It does not reject authority; it tries to comply with regulations and official decisions, considering agreements binding. Ultimately, it depends on local authorities, who can decide on new uses and users.
Conclusion
The Kasárna Karlín and Metelkova exemplify two distinct culture-led regeneration efforts that have enriched their neighborhood's cultural scenes through creative placemaking. However, they are caught up in complex power dynamics, and their futures largely depend on political will. The study identified various policy and institutional frameworks, governance structures, and power relations that either support or hinder the operation of cultural spaces and shape interactions among actors (Giddens 1984). When applied to post-socialist urban contexts, the ACI reveals how social actors respond strategically to institutional uncertainty and policy ambiguity in the process of regenerating abandoned military sites. Given the post-socialist context and the delayed demilitarization and transfer of ownership, cultural actors appeared more protected from potential displacement and privatization while the national government still owned the military barracks. This highlights that the spatial aspect is a vital part of understanding power and its configurations (Massey 1994). Nevertheless, these conditions point to the temporary nature of these cultural spaces and the potential for local authorities to standardize and reshape them, aligning them with a global imaginary of cultural spaces aimed at economic gain (Zukin 2009). As some studies (e.g., Camerin and Córdoba Hernández 2023; Cercleux 2021; Glintić 2015; OECD 2025) emphasize, culture is often treated as a means to an end, stripped of its original meaning, and valued based on its profitability.
The persistence of Metelkova and the challenges faced by Kasárna Karlín highlight the importance of autonomy, community involvement, shared vision, and resilient governance structures in protecting cultural sites from commodification and displacement. These cases demonstrate different governance approaches in regenerating cultural spaces: one exemplifies formal cooperation with local authorities, while the other represents autonomous resistance. This study shows that although collaborative governance is often seen as best practice, bottom-up autonomy can offer greater longevity and resilience in contested urban environments. These findings suggest that cultural governance should move beyond token participation toward models that genuinely empower grassroots actors. However, our study remains open to the question of what governance arrangements and institutional conditions are necessary for the resilience of cultural sites in military brownfields facing regeneration and gentrification. Additionally, we aim to outline the uncertainties and challenges, even in cases considered “good practice,” like autonomous squat or collaborative governance, and to question the assumption that collaborative governance alone ensures cultural sustainability. These insights contribute to ongoing discussions on governing urban commons and emphasize the need for policies that protect cultural spaces from commodification and displacement.
Finally, this research is subject to several limitations. First, the comparative scope is limited by the uneven availability of data, particularly regarding Kasárna Karlín, where documentation and scholarly engagement are limited. Second, while the ACI framework offers valuable analytical depth, its application may not fully capture the informal, fluid dynamics of grassroots urban activism. Lastly, the findings are context-specific and may not be generalizable, although they do offer insights relevant to similar regeneration processes elsewhere.
Footnotes
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The authors declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The authors disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: This work was supported by the Grantová Agentura, Univerzita Karlova (grant number 380421).
