Meaningful Public Engagement—What Could It Look Like?
(Source: Unsplash/Dylan Gillis.)
Last summer, while my extended family was gathered for an out-of-town wedding, an interesting conversation happened over coffee one morning.
My mum began telling us about a tour she’d been on, hosted by her city of Lethbridge, a southern Alberta city of about 100,000 just north of the Canada–U.S. border. She described the passion of the staff and their openness to answer any questions, the positive impression that the facilities had left on her, and her now much better understanding of their processes and the rationale behind various policies. It was so interesting, and when eventually her story ended, she laughed and said, “Is it crazy that I just spent the past 20 minutes talking about garbage?!”
Yes, the unlikely location for that amazing tour was Lethbridge’s waste management and recycling center, which handles garbage, recycling, yard waste, and, as of late, food waste from curbside compost pickup, as well.
But contrary to what she may have feared, I think it was almost as interesting to me to hear about the tour as it had been for her to participate in it.
How often do we get such an up-close and personal look at the inner workings of our places, especially the services and systems that most of us take for granted? It makes me think about the ways that towns, cities, and other big, public-serving institutions can engage with and educate everyday people. But despite being very “engaged” with my city for the past several years, I can’t point to many times when I felt there was meaningful and mutually beneficial engagement.
Some of my all-time favourite Strong Town articles are Chuck Marohn’s “Most Public Engagement is Worthless” and Ruben Anderson’s “Most Public Engagement Is Worse Than Worthless.” I think about them all the time.
Anderson states: “I think most public engagement is beyond worthless. I think it actually corrodes the relationships we need in order to build a strong town. Most public engagement, as it is currently conducted, makes our cities worse places.”
I can confirm. Since I started becoming interested in “city stuff” a few years ago, I’ve filled out a ton of surveys and attended many in-person engagement sessions. Each time, I think about Chuck and Anderson’s pieces and how frustrating and demoralizing it is to spend my time giving carefully considered feedback that I know is probably never going to go anywhere, or trying to answer technical questions that are inappropriate to ask a lay audience. The public engagement office in my city has some really wonderful staff, but, like Chuck and Anderson, I often think that the default methods of engagement that are so common fail to achieve what they (purportedly) set out to.
Now, those pieces both discuss the problems with consultation—the danger of just asking people about their thoughts, feelings, and desires. But when I heard my mum’s story about the riveting garbage tour, I thought about how valuable an opportunity this was to demonstrate the city’s own strengths and expertise, while at the same time giving residents an opportunity to develop a much deeper understanding of the department’s goals and methods.
What Could Meaningful Engagement Look Like?
In thinking about the times I have felt like my time was respected and valued, I keep coming back to the years I served on a Local Health Involvement Group (LHIG for short). The LHIG was one of six such groups that met regularly throughout Winnipeg, under the auspices of the local health region, to learn about, discuss, and provide feedback on issues that impact health and the health care system (which, here in Canada, is publicly funded and administered).
Although this group fell into the realm of healthcare, I can see in retrospect that it was one of the key experiences that led me to think about how people in the same city can live radically different realities. The beginning of humbly observing, if you will.
I didn’t know what I didn’t know until I had an opportunity to learn from presenters at LHIG. We learned about the concept of “social determinants of health” and that people living in some areas of Winnipeg have nearly 19 years of lower life expectancy than people living in other parts of the city. I had thought a lot about equality in my life, but less about equity, and we explored that in depth. It was a window to the struggles that people all around me faced, people living right in my neighborhood whose realities and challenges I was oblivious to.
Under the guidance of a skilled facilitator, we tackled different topics and priorities and reported back with our recommendations. But the LHIG was not simply a way for the health region to gain insight from community members, it was a two-way street, and we learned a lot about how the healthcare system works (or often, doesn’t work).
It provided an intimate look inside a massive organization, and we had the chance to meet everyone from top executives to people working on the frontlines. We saw that they were all people, too, not nameless, faceless parties. And it was also a chance to meet other “interested” people serving on the LHIG and learn from them.
Tiffany Owens Reed recently wrote about the benefit of “the nuanced and granular world of a real conversation,” noting that “it’s easy to formulate opinions when I don’t have to worry about them being tested by people with different views or experiences. And it’s easy to think I have the solutions when I don’t have to test them against the context, culture, and tradeoffs of a specific community.”
LHIG gave me precisely this chance: to cross paths with and learn from folks I never would have otherwise, each with their own background, identity, interests, and priorities. It was fascinating and frankly, life changing. When my three-year term ended, I was genuinely sad. The goal of LHIG may have been to get community feedback, but I felt I was the real beneficiary in terms of how informative the experience had been.
Engagement in the City
When thinking about bringing change to our places, it can be easy to jump straight from “guerilla tactical urbanism” to “run for office,” when in fact, there are SO many ways in the middle for people to get involved. And I think that actions like joining a citizen advisory committee or board or even attending tours will usually provide you with an opportunity to gain the deeper nuance and context to understand your place, its priorities, and its decision-making. And that’s the nuance that tends to be completely lacking from any public survey, postcard mailer, or radio PSA.
Not all engagement opportunities or advisory boards will be the positive experience that I had, and it is important to have realistic expectations for what will come out of it. Recently, a member of Winnipeg’s Vehicles for Hire Advisory Committee spoke frankly about the challenges inherent to such groups:
I would say go for it, but the other part is to acknowledge the fact that there will be frustrations … Nothing will happen overnight. Due to municipal processes and the bureaucracy, don't expect to go into a meeting and be like, “My voice was heard and change is coming.”
Still, she concluded:
I would rather be in the room than not be in the room because I feel like any sort of incremental or small contributions that we as the community can make to expedite creating positive change … is worth it.
Ready To Take That First Step?
If you’re a resident, find out what opportunities exist in your town or city by keeping an eye out, or by asking! If there’s a committee or board that piques your interest, find out about what the group is—and what expectations are. In some groups, members simply commit to attending meetings. In others, members are expected to go out into the community and represent the board, which means it’s a bigger time commitment. Make sure it’s a fit for you.
Another key thing: organizations that are genuinely committed to having diverse and truly representative attendance will offer support to those who have barriers to attending: things like childcare, transportation, or disability accommodations. It’s ideal when these forms of assistance are offered upfront, but if they’re not, don’t hesitate to ask. In the best cases, the organizers have already thought about it; if they haven’t, you’re helping by bringing the need to their attention.
And if you’re a town or city, don’t underestimate the power that this small-group engagement can have. Remember that the people who show up to take part are the folks who care most passionately about the issues. Most likely, like my mum, they’ll be eager to share their new knowledge with others.
Putting together opportunities like tours, advisory groups, takes time and money and aren’t likely to reach as many people as say, a survey, would. But in my view, they are infinitely more meaningful and effective and create a way to collect informed feedback—and provide public education along the way.
Emma Durand-Wood likes walkable cities, front porches, street trees, bumping into neighbors, riding her bike, downtowns, and any excuse to check out a new coffee shop, bakery, or shop. A Winnipegger by choice, she lives in Elmwood with her husband and three children. You can connect with her on Twitter @emmaewood.