Exploring the prospects for Lees’ ‘engaged dialogue’ as meaningful exchange at the urban research publishing table

Abstract

Building on Lees’ call for ‘engaged dialogue’ between academics and non-academics (practitioners and activists) through collaborative writing and publishing, this commentary considers the approaches and relations that can enhance such efforts. I draw on my experiences as a managing editor of an online magazine, Progressive City: Radical Alternatives – a magazine that seeks to transcend the academic-practice divide – and the lessons they offer (opportunities and challenges) for realising more inclusive forms of engagement in the realm of publishing.

Lees’ (2024) paper offers a rich and vital contribution towards how we conceive and practice engaged dialogue in urban research. In particular, it underscores what is politically, as well as academically, at stake in the relations that we forge through and for dialogue. Such relations include the potential complementarities between distinct analytical frameworks (global/economic and local/cultural) for understanding the urban and how they disrupt predetermined classifications or urban trajectories and reorient emphasis on the need to identify (rather than presume) the divergent and convergent features across space (see also Hart, 2023; Peck, 2023; Robinson, 2022). The relations that Lees examines, however, go beyond the scope of academic inter-disciplinarity; they encompass the exchanges between urban narrators who occupy different positions along the theory-practice continuum as a critical foundation for knowledge generation. Lees presents a formidable challenge to ‘academia’ as the privileged site of urban research and points to the need to break down the still insular and ivory walls of its tower – both for those within and outside the walls (Lees, 2024). In so doing, she not only draws attention to the critical role of participatory research action for transcending these walls but also makes a significant and provocative intervention by advancing writing and publishing as vital, yet often overlooked, sites of engaged dialogue. In this brief commentary, I want to engage with Lees’ critical intervention by drawing on my experience as a managing editor of Progressive City: Radical Alternatives, an online magazine that seeks to bridge the academic-practice divide in terms of its contributors, content and editorial process. Building on Rosenman et al.’s (2019) discussion of meaningful engagement, I reflect on the lessons (successes and challenges) from the magazine and what the lessons suggest for extending Lees’ call for engaged dialogue to publishing.

From ‘engaged pluralism’ to ‘meaningful contact’?

The concept of ‘engaged pluralism’, as introduced by Barnes and Sheppard (2010), is an important point of departure for Lees’ intervention. More specifically, the concept can be understood as an active form of exchange between ostensible adversaries. And some contend that this kind of engagement can open the space for new intellectual possibilities, enriching existing theory or giving rise to new concepts altogether (Lees, 1994, 2022; see also Robinson, 2022). Lees seeks to extend this concept beyond the exchanges that occurs between academic researchers to encompass exchanges between academics and non-academics (e.g., practitioners, community organisers, activists) and the inter-dependent forms of learning to which they can give rise. At the same time, citing a critique by Peake et al. (2018), Lees also acknowledges the challenges to realising mutually beneficial forms of engagement in the face of power inequities between actors and the need for such inequities to be confronted and disrupted in order to ensure a truly ‘engaged’ form. In their article on ‘engaged pluralism’, Barnes and Sheppard (2010: 199) themselves note that pluralism has traditionally failed to address how ‘the very terms of engagement can still marginalize [excluded] voices even after speakers gain a place at the table’. In a recent article by Rosenman et al. (2019), the authors contend that in the case of geography – especially economic geography – few of the excluded voices are even sitting at the publishing table – a table that can gatekeep which voices are (re)presented. The authors foreground the need to move beyond the allocation of a ‘seat’, or notions of recognition, towards reconstructing the table altogether to open the space for what Valentine (2008) terms ‘meaningful contact.’ They emphasise the need for collaboration (engaging across difference in shared initiatives), rather than individualised modes of exchange, as a key basis for more meaningful forms of engagement, and for challenging, if not overcoming, existing power configurations. Indeed, disciplinary ‘border crossings’ and collaborations across the academic and non-academic divide are at central to Lees’ project of ‘engaged dialogue’ – a body of work that extends from collaborative research to the co-authoring of publications and employs a range of methodologies (e.g., ethnographic biographies) and publication mediums (from refereed journals to online blogs) to overcome some of the barriers to ‘engaged pluralism.’ In the sections that follow, I want to reflect on the kind of publishing that could enhance the conditions for such ‘meaningful contacts’ and collaborations, and what it might mean to apply Lees’ conceptualisation of engaged dialogue to the realm of publishing (Lees, 2024). What kind of publishing ‘table’ would be needed, and what are the prospects and challenges to constructing it?

On the need for new ‘contact’ spaces in publishing: The historical and institutional context of Progressive City

This is a question that I have been grappling with for nearly two decades in my involvement with Progressive City (and its precursor, Progressive Planning), a magazine that is ‘dedicated to ideas and practices that advance racial, economic, social and environmental justice in cities’ (https://www.progressivecity.net/about). Before delving into how the magazine aims to transcend the academic-practice divide, I would like to highlight the historical and institutional context from which it emerged. Progressive City is a project of Planners Network (or PN as it is often called), an organisation that was founded in 1975 by Chester Hartman, the anti-gentrification scholar and activist who Lees cites in her paper. With PN, Hartman wanted to create a network of radical planners that, at its most basic level, could allow for an exchange of ideas and experiences and offer a community of mutual support, with the potential to serve as a foundation for collective initiatives. Hartman wanted to build on the lessons of a 1960s predecessor organisation, Planners for Equal Opportunity, which criticised the complicity of mainstream planning in the displacement of low-income, racialised communities through urban renewal schemes and sought to promote the use of planning in the service of those who were most marginalised in cities. To build up the network, Hartman started with a newsletter that was sent to like-minded planning scholars, practitioners and organisers in the US and Canada and to which recipients could regularly contribute updates (e.g., where they were or what they were working on). By the 1990s, conferences were convened to promote in-person encounters, and the newsletter became a space where contributors could share radical planning practices and approaches. In 2002, lead editors Tom Angotti and Ann Forsyth decided to transform the newsletter to a quarterly magazine, Progressive Planning. And in 2016, a cohort of old and new members initiated a strictly online version of the magazine with the new name, Progressive City: Radical Alternatives, to broaden its appeal.

In terms of my personal connection to the magazine, I first joined the editorial team in 2002 and became a managing editor in 2018. I was drawn to both PN and the magazine because there were limited spaces in academic circles for critical analyses of dominant planning models or for the promotion of alternative practices or orientations. ¹ More generally, I was drawn to how the organisation sought to promote a socialist agenda for planning, one that incorporated an anti-racist, feminist and decolonial lens and continuously examined its’ own priorities, privileges and omissions (Angotti, 2020; Rantisi, 2020). I appreciated how long-time PN members, such as Tom Angotti, Marie Kennedy and the late Peter Marcuse would regularly call out the role of planning in upholding exclusionary, apartheid practices in contexts such as South Africa and Palestine. And as someone of Palestinian origin, PN was one of the few spaces at the time – in either planning or geography – where I felt the established ‘tables’ were turning and where there was a possibility to contribute to a distinct publishing model.

On the prospects and challenges for constructing a space of ‘meaningful contact’: Progressive City as (incomplete) practice

Progressive City strives to promote engaged dialogue. We publish short, jargon-free articles that are written in an accessible, journalistic style and accessible without charge. To facilitate publication of content that can appeal to a wide audience, the editorial board consists of a mix of academics, practitioners and organisers. Of the current managing editors – Tom Angotti, Jacob Ryan, Lacey Sigmon and myself – only Tom (a former practicing planner) and I have worked as full-time academics. Our contributors also reflect this diversity, as we receive submissions from authors who have varying forms of engagement with planning and we often publish articles that are co-authored by academics and non-academics. But our efforts to create a space that transcends the academic-practice divide remain ongoing. As an editorial collective, we continuously experiment to create a more inclusive publishing experience and aim to ‘reconstruct’ many features of the publishing table in the process. To illustrate, I have chosen to focus here on three features – the themes, the format and editorial process of the magazine.

In terms of themes, the scope of the magazine is broad. Topics range from planning perspectives or policy orientations to cases that illustrate more concrete planning strategies. Some articles discuss planning methodology, for example the nature and structure of community engagement processes or the use of body mapping to narrate urban experiences. Recently, we introduced calls for submissions for a series of short articles revolving around a specific theme, such as ‘the future of planning,' ‘transport justice,’ ‘environmental justice’ or ‘decarceral spaces of collective action.’ We sponsored a Zoom discussion after one of the series that brought together contributors, editors and readers to reflect on these pieces and the cross-cutting issues they present. We strive to ensure socially diverse representation with respect to the themes we cover, as well as who is contributing and who is editing. However, we still have more work to do, for example, in including topics such as anti-ableist planning or soliciting more contributions from the Global South.

While the focus of the magazine is on written articles, over time we have incorporated other publishing formats. With the launch of the online version in 2016, we included an audio podcast, Ear to the Pavement, by writer and planner Allison Lirish Dean. The podcast consists of conversational interviews, which can make it a more appealing or practical option for certain contributors. Based on suggestions by contributors and editorial board members, we also welcome graphic and visual art works, such as map essays, photo essays, illustrations, and more recently, videos. By accommodating a range of formats, we seek to better address the diverse preferences or skills-sets of potential contributors across the theory-practice continuum. A key challenge, however, is while we can rely on board members or members of the extended PN network to support the editing process, few of our members have experience editing formats other than articles (e.g., videos).

The editing process is the probably the most noteworthy aspect of the magazine. We often work in teams, with two editors – ideally a mix of academic and non-academic – assigned to a piece. This involves what I would call ‘backstage’ dialogue, which occurs not only among editors but also between editors and contributors. For a given article, there are often multiple rounds of edits. While the edits are guided by the broader objective of ensuring an accessible narrative that advances a radical planning lens, the end result emerges from exchange and gradual clarification and compromise among the participants in the editing process. Many of our authors are repeat contributors. This is valuable, as ongoing collaboration facilitates the building of relations, strengthening the communication process and enhancing mutual learning (see Lees, 2024 on the latter). I have learned immensely about the writing and editing process from co-editors and contributors, especially on how to write in a journalistic style, but there is still much to learn. As Lees (2024: 14) contends, there is a need to continually expand the styles and formats for knowledge dissemination so that non-academics can assume the same intellectual platform as academics.

Building on some of Lees’ concerns regarding the divide between academics and non-academics relations, there are also challenges relating to the terms and nature of the dialogue that occurs within the editing process. I come to this project, for instance, as a tenured academic and the privileges associated with that status. A stable, well-paying job – relative to that of an untenured academic or a precariously employed academic or organiser – affords me (relatively) more flexibility as well as security and resources, for example, funds to hire an assistant. The ability for some editors to mobilise their time and resources is important since the magazine operates on a volunteer basis. But it can also translate to a position of influence at the publishing table, a position that can emerge by default rather than design, owing to broader political-economic and socio-cultural factors. Similarly, through my primary occupation, I have acquired extensive experience in academic writing and in reviewing other people's work, and this experience has, at times, led to certain expectations in terms of prose, structure and the favouring of certain styles and approaches over others. This raises the question of how such privileges are navigated or checked. Working in editorial teams can mitigate such an effect. But in the case of either an editing process or the writing projects that Lees discusses, how can we ensure that ‘dialogue’ occurs in a way that centres the voices of those who are marginalised? What kinds of ‘un-learning’ are needed as the basis for meaningful, engaged dialogue? Collaboration requires a lot of work for all actors involved, but in cases that involve community organisers, activists or scholars who face precarious work conditions, how should the labour of writing or editing be allocated and recognised?

In reflecting on my own editorial experiences alongside Lees’ discussion, another issue that emerges is the question of authorship. Lees makes a compelling argument for the need to write and publish – and not just research – collectively, and how the practice of collaborative writing is, itself, a form of engaged dialogue. Such collaborations can yield richer narratives of urban dynamics in cases, for example, when the practice of documenting a lived experience clarifies, enriches or refines the presentation of theoretical arguments or when two inter-connected fields (e.g., housing and health) can be examined. But I have encountered cases in academic/non-academic collaboration, where one the non-academic party preferred the backstage, rather than frontstage, of writing and publishing, requesting that their name not be listed as co-author or contributor. In one case, an academic, in the spirit of feminist praxis, had initially included a non-academic contributor's name, however this contributor subsequently asked for the removal of their name, as they did not contribute directly to the writing, even though they contributed to the research and exchange that served as the basis for the written text. In another case, a non-academic stated that their group would benefit more from having an article about their organisation that was authored, solely, by academics due to the perceived legitimacy or validation it could confer. Maybe such cases suggest a range of spaces (back and front) where collaborative writing could occur? And if so, how can publishers, through varied forms for ‘writing’ the urban and through multi-directional and reciprocal routes of communication, ensure the possibility for voice in both spaces that is at the root for engaged dialogue and enriched urban research?

In my concluding remarks, I would like to highlight Stuart Hall's insights on writing: ‘I realized that almost everything I write is a kind of political intervention. It may not be about politics explicitly, but it is trying to shift the terms of the debate, intervene on one side of another, clarify something, wipe some other distorting views out of place so that something else can come through’ (Hall and Back, 2009: 663). As this quote attests, there is power in writing, and with that power, a responsibility. Lees’ paper seeks to centre a recognition of that power, particularly in the context of engaged scholarship, and the responsibility that it demands. Taking inspiration from Lees’ insights on engaged dialogue, a form that is explicitly political and aims to disrupt power hierarchies, I seek to examine what a politics of collaboration and openness could offer to the realm of publishing and to reflect on the prospects and challenges for constructing a space (or ‘table’) where established conventions could be challenged and new practices nurtured. Such a reflection reinforces Lees’ intervention on the need to take up the project of engaged dialogue as a work-in-progress. It also underscores Davidson's (2023: 7) contention in the inaugural issue of Dialogues in Urban Research that there are no easy paths to attaining engaged dialogue; it is very much an exercise of ‘trial and error’ and can only occur through active and sustained commitment. To this end, Lees’ paper and wider body of work (including publishing practice) stand as both an invocation and a model for such a commitment.