Could the Big Dig Have Cost Less?

As the parks it created finally fill with activity and the project fades from newspaper headlines, Boston’s Big Dig is subtly slipping into the city’s history.

Officially known as the Central Artery Bridge/Tunnel Project, the Big Dig buried an elevated freeway in downtown Boston and added a new freeway tunnel under Boston Harbor connecting Logan Airport to the city’s urban core.

Most of all, the project is known for its delays (over 15 years of construction) and huge price tag: over $14.6 billion, a total of roughly $22 billion with interest. The cost overruns were so severe it was responsible for temporarily cutting off the state’s Federal highway funding, dozens of lawsuits, and was even featured multiple times on NBC Nightly News’ regular feature “The Fleecing of America.”

Commonwealth politicians are content to put it the project behind them, trying to distance themselves from any involvement. Urbanists, meanwhile, are eager to point out the project’s many accomplishments. Downtown property values have increased, new parks have been created, and developers are beginning the work of re-knitting urban neighborhoods long divided by the unsightly highway. Reduced gridlock has improved urban air quality, and the harbor tunnel has improved access to the airport for transit riders (through the Silver Line) and motorists alike.

However, one unanswered question lurks in the air: could the Big Dig have cost less?

Like any historical counterfactual, a definitive answer is impossible. However, much could be revealed through a detailed case study. What delays were avoidable? What complications did the engineers overlook? Is there any evidence cost estimates were deliberately manipulated? Should the partnership between the Turnpike Authority and Bechtel/Parsons Brinkerhoff been differently designed to improve accountability? Could the project’s 144 separate construction contracts have been written differently? Were Federal highway standards or environmental laws responsible for excessive costs? In short, could changes to the underlying public policy structure have resulted in different costs and construction time? To my knowledge, these questions have not been deeply examined by scholars. If any readers are aware of studies, please post them below.

The result may not be nefarious scheming by greedy contractors. In fact, scholar Bent Flyvbjerg has argued major causes of cost overruns are systematic under-estimation of costs due to political pressure, and a failure to properly account for the inevitable risks that occur as a result of the complexity of megaprojects.

Image via Wikipedia

Far from a matter of historical interest, the high cost of transportation infrastructure is a pressing policy issue in a state currently spending $3 billion re-build bridges and planning an extension of the city’s Green Line, among other proposed projects. The high cost of transportation projects was raised recently on an email list operated by the Somerville Transportation Equity Partnership, in a thread grousing about the $600,000 price for a bike cage and high cost estimates for the Green Line extension. The issue provoked a rare response from the Commonwealth’s Secretary of Transportation Jeffrey Mullan himself, who denied the costs were inflated or the bidding process is faulty. Although the message concedes “things cost a lot; unacceptably so sometimes,” the post omits any speculation as to why.

Perhaps one day the question will be subject to the scrutiny it deserves.

Lights Out For Free Public Goods?

Most American local governments and transit agencies are struggling to balance their finances. In addition to the economic downturn, revenues are often limited by property tax limits or political resistance to tax or fee increases. Meanwhile, costs have been ballooning. Many fixed costs, such as the price of energy, health care, and other employee benefits have expanded dramatically in recent years. The result has been a quiet crisis, which is sowing the seeds for future problems. Here in Boston, last year the MBTA only had enough funds to fix six of the agency’s 56 infrastructure projects that were ranked as most important for public safety on an internal 10-point rating scale. At the MBTA and other agencies, important upgrades and maintenance are being delayed. Similar patterns are playing out in cities and towns making hard decisions about upgrades to critical road, water, and other infrastructure.

However, the financial distress is also provoking government officials to create new forms of revenue generation. The most notable example relates to streetlights. Although desired by citizens for safety, the increasing cost of electricity has pushed several cities to deactivate them. In the face of citizen complains, several allow local residents to directly pay for the cost of their operation. Presumably the capital costs are “sunk” so the marginal cost of operation is electricity and a small maintenance fee. Concord, Massachusetts is deactivating many, and providing residents the option of sponsoring a streetlight of their choosing at the cost of $17 per light per month, or $204 a year. Colorado Springs, Colorado is making deep cuts to a range of public services, including deactivating over 30% of the city’s streetlights. (At right, crews disconnect a streetlight in the city.) As in Concord, citizens can adopt local streetlights at a cost of $100 to $240 per year, depending on size.

When I proposed this as a model for raising public funds to a group of graduate students recently, they immediately raised concerns. On the surface, the transaction does look like an example where government provides services for a fee instead of safeguarding the public interest. Will poor neighborhoods lose out? However, on closer examination I think the arrangement is more nuanced. Although the streetlight adopter provides all the funding, they by no means enjoy all the benefits. The nexus between who pays and who benefits is indirect at best. In both of the cases above, governments decided which streetlights should remain on for safety purposes (at intersections, for example). Officials in Concord admitted to adding streetlights where they may not be needed during better times. In addition, in already relatively homogeneous communities like Concord (where only 2% of families were below the poverty line in 2000), the equity effects are muted.

Policymakers could also affirmatively address such concerns, while allowing residents the freedom to fund their local streetlight. In this arrangement, the price charged would be slightly above the true cost (say 10%), and the extra money be used for lighting elsewhere in the city, or even to subsidize the purchase cost for low income households adopting their own streetlights.

Similar scheme could be used in transit. The public good funding model is in crisis, with too little revenue to support the desired level of service. One approach could be to create a discrete fund for the maintenance and improvement to each bus line and rail station. Anyone who wanted to – neighbors or otherwise – could donate to these “earmarked” accounts. However, the agency would implement a tax on the donations that would be shifted to the stations and lines receiving the least. That way institutions and riders could donate to support “their” station or line, and the system as a whole could gain access to scarce unconstrained funds.

Many bus and rail lines connect rich and poor neighborhoods, so donations for these may already have equalizing effects. This approach may be troubling because it may seem to encourage differentiated levels of service for different neighborhoods. However, the practice of paying for transit service in general is not unheard of, in Washington, D.C. sponsors of major events have made cash payments to keep the subway system open later in the evening. Private groups dedicated to augmenting public services are already well-established for parks (private conservancies), schools (PTOs), and urban neighborhoods (BIDs). Why not for transit?

I’m not sure whether such a scheme could be workable. However, in the absence of reform our current system is under stress. If we don’t like the alternatives (such as a simple fee for service), advocates for public transit and local governments should consider innovative alternatives that satisfy both the fickle voters and the public interest.

Thanks to Libby for the post title idea

What Government Data Should be Transparent?

At an event I attended in March, Massachusetts’ Chief Information Officer Ann Marguiles raised a simple yet profound issue. Although they’re committed to open data, the Commonwealth was still to figure out which datasets to post online through their new data portal mass.gov/data.

Plenty of transparency advocates would say the answer should be “all of it.” However, I think this answer is unsatisfactory for a couple reasons. First, Massachusetts faces very real resource constraints. Administrative data is managed by hundreds of legacy systems across over 100 independent agencies. Many of these systems contain personal or otherwise sensitive data that precludes throwing open the doors, and requires time to create public reporting scripts. Second, the “free it all” position overlooks the government’s role as data collector. Plenty of information is collected and released merely as a public service: environmental data, population statistics, etc. Instead of just focusing on making paper records digital, we should discuss the larger issue: what types of information should governments make available?

I think there are several basic categories of types of data government should release. Each has its own logic, and a review of the categories can emphasize the multiple purposes of transparency.

1. Data “About the World” To Inform Research and Policy Debate
For a variety of reasons, governments often collect some of the most accurate and up-to-date descriptive data about communities. This includes vast array of geographic data, school and testing data, demographic data, employment and economic statistics, and more. It should be released primarily because it enhances our ability to create good policy, or collective understanding more generally.

2. Data Released to Improve Service Delivery
Some data should be released because it improves access to government services. This includes cases where the data itself is the service (e.g., research reports), but also includes more technical forms such as transit system data, government facility locations, and service details.

3. Data to Help Hold Government Accountable
A host of budget, voting, and performance data should be released to hold government accountable. However, metrics produced internally as part of stat-type programs introduces the problem of mixed motives. Why would governments want to release the data that can be used against them? This problem can be partially avoided by separating the data from the operations within the government organization. This concern also introduces the important issue of presenting information in accurate ways, and including metadata about definitions and collection methodology.

4. Data to Change Private Decisions to Achieve Policy Goals
In their book Full Disclosure, Archon Fung, Mary Graham, and David Weil argue many transparency policies fall into the new category of “targeted transparency.” Including mortgage reporting requirements, nutrition labels, and automobile crash ratings, these efforts make information available with the deliberate intention to achieve a public objective by influencing private decisions. These policies succeed when they provide people facts they want in the “times, places, and ways that enable them to act.” They stress these aren’t limited to policies seeking economic changes, but also include campaign finance reporting laws which work through political channels. Although implemented with the intention of reaching end users, the ease of citizens to access this data ranges widely. Some data are readily available, but governments rely heavily on intermediaries to analyze and present more complex (and politically-charged) data like the toxics release inventory or mortgage lending data from banks.

5. Data Posted to Improve Access Within or Across Government
Although it’s rarely discussed, I think an important use of available data is to help break down barriers within and between government agencies. This will be an unintended use so long as our governments are separated into layers and silos. This purpose explains why so much of the data on the HUDUser website are specific to certain policies or programs: the intended users are state and local governments and nonprofits, not the general public.

What do you think? Are these the right categories, or have I omitted something important?

See also:
> Data and Decisions in Government
> Does Data Matter in Urban Policy?
> What is Government 2.0?

Urban Planning as Computer Game in Boston’s Chinatown

Computer games like Sim City and Grand Theft Auto feature expansive, photorealistic urban environments and compelling storylines that engross players for hours. In contrast, public meetings about planning issues feature dry, technical information presented through static presentations and reports. It’s little wonder these meetings generally attract the “usual suspects,” with the skills and patience to digest complex data and follow the arcane legalize of local planning.

A new interactive game about Boston’s Chinatown neighborhood seeks to merge the interactivity of games with the real problems of planning. Why shouldn’t games reflect realistic challenges, such as finding housing, jobs, and places to hang out in the city? Can a game both solicit community input and provoke inter-generational dialog? The game, called Participatory Chinatown, is an exciting example of how new technology can do just this. Developed by the Asian Community Development Corporation, the Metropolitan Area Planning Council (my former employer, although I was not involved in this project), and Professor Eric Gordon and collaborators at Emerson College, the game as unveiled at two community meetings this week.

Participatory Chinatown has two iterations: an online single-player version, and a collaborative version that groups can play in real-time through networked computers. In each, the game’s 15 characters explore a 3D version of Chinatown, collecting information about opportunities and interacting with other players they find. At the end of the game, players must decide which choices best fill their quest for housing, jobs, or social spaces. Whether they succeed depends on how much information they are able to collect and how much competition exists. In a second phase, players can walk through one of three hypothetical redevelopment proposals for a part of the neighborhood, earning points for leaving comments about their opinions and concerns it provokes.

Integrating a community-created 3D environment, player profiles, and redevelopment scenarios, the project is notable for the close collaboration between community members, governments, and game creators it required. The quests illustrate the choices available in the neighborhood, and the obstacles — such as language barriers and limited income — residents face. At the demonstration exercise I attended on Wednesday, generational gaps were quickly apparent as the younger players most easily navigated the exercise while older players struggled with the game interface. The local youth who helped create the game were on hand to guide players through the exercise. Although not feasible for every neighborhood (it was partially funded by a $170,000 MacArthur Foundation grant), the game represents a tremendous resource for the neighborhood, especially when deployed strategically to stimulate conversation. In fact, much more than replacing the public meeting, the game meetings this week were successful partly because of the careful preparation and facilitation used to present the game and draw out comments after.

From a technical point of view, the game could become a flexible platform for other uses, such as more free-form exercises like exploring the visual effects of proposed developments. Already, some of the game’s 3D models are available for download through the Google 3D Warehouse. Although excellent at buildings, realistic traffic and street conditions were clearly missing. This makes it best suited for physical planning around buildings and public amenities, not discussing parking reform or “complete streets” philosophy.

Most importantly, the game presents planning decisions from the street-level view of community members, not the God’s eye view adopted by systems-optimization games like Sim City or Chevron’s Energyville. Although, like all games, Participatory Chinatown must contain simplifications and assumptions, it succeeds because it portrays planning in a realistic light: as complex trade-offs that can only be evaluated from the perspectives of specific urban residents. After all, there is no perfect urban form, and planning is the ongoing process of considering the future in the light of how well the current city serves our needs and reflects our values. If the game can help encourage this perspective in the community, it will be a success.

> Participatory Chinatown
> Globe: “Chinatown Planners Hope Game Draws Crowd” and editorial “Chinatown, the Video Game.

Feds Approve Cape Wind

U.S. Interior Secretary Kenneth Salazar announced the approval of the Cape Wind project today:

Cape Wind Associates, the developer, said it planned to begin construction of the 130 turbines about five miles off Cape Cod by the end of the year, even as the main opposition group announced that it would immediately file a lawsuit in an effort to block the $1 billion project.

See more on wind power in Massachusetts

(Image from Cape Wind Associates)

Is Urban Planning Dead?

At the American Planning Association National Conference in New Orleans a couple weeks back, I participated in a session on the provocative question: “is planning dead?” The event was organized by the staff of the Colorado-based organization PlaceMatters. A small group met to discuss the question at an “unconference” session near the convention center. They were kind enough to post a live blog and summary post about the event. I thought I’d take the opportunity to share a slightly more developed version of what I discussed.

First, in one sense, conventional planning is alive and well. U.S. cities continue to create and implement comprehensive plans and zoning regulations in the same ways they have since the advent of planning in the 1920s. There have been two notable changes. First, the size and complexity of plans and regulations has increased. As an example, the city of Austin, Texas has identified 67 plans, policies, and regulations adopted in the city since completing their last comprehensive plan in 1978. Secondly, although it’s not commonly recognized as part of planning, the historic preservation movement has had a tremendous impact on planning in urban areas. Preservation regulations are generally modeled on planning and zoning controls. New planning tools such as form-based codes, design review, inclusionary zoning, and other innovations share the same regulatory approach dating back to the 1920s, one that is rooted in the city’s “police powers” to create regulations for the health, safety, and welfare of the population.

Outside of this creeping expansion of proscriptive, regulatory planning, there have been alternative developments. Community development organizations and bottom-up initiatives have introduced new models of participatory planning. They should not be overlooked, but in most places city governments retain their central role in urban development. Although the process of creating plans has changed substantially, elected officials retain the final authority to modify or reject plans and development proposals. In its most advanced forms, the community development movement relies on government resources and permission to achieve their goals. (Cobbling together grants and subsidies, “pushing through” projects, etc)

Planning theorists have proposed several new models for the field, however none have significantly effected professional practice.

• Paul Davidoff’s concept of advocacy planning is still widely discussed and taught. He proposed planners should follow the approach of the legal profession, providing each community with resources to create their own plan. However, the model has many well-known criticisms. Who gets a planner, and how are they paid? How does the government decide which plan will prevail? How should large-scale investment decisions be made?
• John Friedman articulated a philosophy he referred to as “non-Euclidean” planning. He argued planning should be iterative, normative, creative, and based in social learning. Although this certainly describes some of the most innovative examples of planning, it is unclear how it could be followed to reform the role of government. Although containing provocative ideas, it requires further development and integration with a broader theory of governance before it can be readily applied.
• Finally, one of the most influential developments has been the ‘communicative turn’ advocated by a variety of planning theorists. Adopting the theories of Habermas, this group focuses on the work of planning as shaping views and collecting information through processes of dialog. It also forms the theoretical basis for the consensus building approach, where stakeholders are brought together to discuss contested policy issues. In their new book Planning With Complexity, Judith Innes and David Booher provide a comprehensive statement of this philosophy and attempt to integrate it with theories of governance. They advocate for an adaptive, collaborative, distributed, and nonlinear government. Just published earlier this year, it remains to be seen in what ways these ideas can be translated into concrete practices.

I think planning can take two — perhaps contradictory — directions.

First, planning can celebrate the dynamism of the private city. Under this scenario, the field would pull back from detailed plans and regulations, seeking ways to encourage private actors to produce the desired ends. The strategy need not concede to private interests, but would seek to make public benefits predictable, transparent, and simple. It would entail the courage to voluntarily limit what powers planners would exercise. In turn, governments would take an even bolder approach to the framework of urbanization: shaping streets, lots, infrastructure, and markets.

Second, planning could re-assert government’s role in shaping the city through empowerment, not regulation. Experiments in participatory governance and budgeting could point the way towards a future where governments function as miniature development states. In this context, planning would be focused on structuring processes to involve citizens and organizations in governance in new ways, and sparking entrepreneurship and innovation.

After the intellectual fall of the rational-comprehensive model of policy analysis, critics have often held the problem with planning lay with its methods. If planners didn’t posses any special skills or methods, the argument goes, what claim to legitimacy do they have? I argue this collapse of a sphere of professional authority unveiled a deeper, more fundamental crisis: of democratic legitimacy. Both of my “directions” share a critical evaluation of the legitimate power and structure of government. As a field embedded in structures of governance, planning cannot be reformed without a vision for a reformed and revitalized urban democracy.

Social Media in Urban Planning

On Monday I participated in a presentation on Social Media in Planning at the American Planning Association’s annual convention in New Orleans. At the session, my co-presenters and I discussed example projects spanning community-based planning, transportation, and professional development. Afterwards, the attendees broke into small groups to discuss their own experience and thoughts about using social media to engage the public. Here’s some links to the cases we discussed:

• I presented on Rethink College Park and some preliminary observations from my research on the Imagine Austin Comprehensive Plan.
• Jennifer Evans-Cowley, a professor at Ohio State, presented on the SNAPPatx project in Austin which seeks to aggregate content about transportation across several platforms. In addition, she told attendees about the Social Networking Applications for Planners Facebook group.
• Ryan Link, a planner with the Baker company, presented on More for 1604, an environmental impact statement for Loop 1604 in San Antonio, TX, and the Driving 95 corridor study in North Carolina.
• Shana Johnson, a planning consultant, presented on the APA Economic Division Blog she has spearheaded, as well as the Division’s use of Twitter.

In addition, many attendees shared their own experiences, and we had a lively conversation about equity, satisfying regulations, and integration with more conventional forms of public participation. We plan to propose a session on the same topic for the 2011 conference, to be held here in Boston.