"GRAY CITIES"

THEORETICAL  NOTES ON ‘ GRAY
CITIES ’ : THE COMING  OF  URBAN
APARTHEID ?

Oren Yiftachel
Ben-Gurion University of the Negev, Beer Sheva, Israel

Abstract
The author analyzes the political geography of globally
expanding urban informalities. These are conceptualized as ‘gray spaces’,
positioned between the ‘whiteness’ of legality/approval/safety, and the
‘blackness’ of eviction/destruction/death. The vast expansion of gray
spaces in contemporary cities reflects the emergence of new types of
colonial relations, which are managed by urban regimes facilitating a
process of ‘creeping apartheid’. Planning is a lynchpin of this urban order,
providing tools and technologies to classify, contain and manage deeply
unequal urban societies. The author uses a ‘South-Eastern’ perspective to
suggest the concept of ‘planning citizenship’ as a possible corrective
horizon for analytical, normative and insurgent theories.

In the following article I wish to link insights from my recent involvement
with marginalized urban communities, with conceptual observations about the
political geography of urban informalities (‘gray spaces’) and the subsequent
emergence of what I conceptualize as ‘creeping urban apartheid’. What follows
is an exploratory and somewhat speculative article, undoubtedly needing
further empirical backing and theoretical underpinning. Let me begin with two
voices from the Beer Sheva metropolitan region, Israel/Palestine:

Beer Sheva belongs to us, as much as to the Jews . . . we are staying on our traditional
land, and close to the city that was built for us by the Ottomans . . . the Jews want us
to move to ‘planned’ (or ‘ghetto’) towns, but we refuse in order to defend our land . . .
every week they demolish a few of our ‘illegal’ homes . . . but they cannot evict us,
because they know we’ll always return . . . (‘Atiyya al-’Athameen, Bedouin land
owner, the unrecognized locality of Chashem Zaneh, near Beer Sheva)
This is the fourth time I am sacked in Israel and probably not the last . . . I came
here eight years ago to work . . . I could get into Israel because my ex-husband’s son
is Jewish. No, I cannot become a citizen, but I can extend my visa annually. I will
work here for about five more years and then return to Kiev . . . it’s OK here,
because I can save some money and send it home, and there are many Russian
speakers . . . but the work situation sucks . . . (Svetlana, a recently sacked Ukrainian
cleaning worker, Beer Sheva, 2008)
The two voices come from two marginalized communities in an urban region
which has recently reached a population of 550,000. ‘Attiya is a Bedouin Arab
from a group of 36 ‘unrecognized’ indigenous Bedouin localities, accommodating
around 70,000 people. This population is designated for eviction according
to the latest 2007 metropolitan plan for the Beer Sheva. Svetlana is a temporary
labor migrant, one of some 10–15,000 such workers in the region, employed
chiefly in menial services, dangerous occupations and the sex trade. Svetlana is
a member of a recently formed union of cleaning workers, organized after mass
sackings in one of the city’s major institutions.
Beyond the human sufferings associated with home demolitions and chronic
employment insecurity, lie structural forces. These ‘produce’ the spaces in which
residents such as Attiya and Svetlana are only partially incorporated into the
urban community, economy and space, and are excluded from membership in
the city polity. These partially incorporated people, localities and activities are
part of a growing urban informality, termed here ‘gray space’ – positioned
between the ‘whiteness’ of legality/approval/safety, and the ‘blackness’ of
eviction/destruction/death. They are neither integrated nor eliminated, forming
pseudo-permanent margins of today’s urban regions.
Gray spaces contain a multitude of groups, bodies, housing, lands, economies
and discourses, lying literally ‘in the shadow’ of the formal, planned city, polity
and economy. They exist partially outside the gaze of state authorities and city
plans. With studies beginning in South America and moving worldwide, expanding
informality in cities is now well documented in areas such as land, housing,
immigration and economy. Informality has come to characterize a vast number
of metropolitan regimes, to the extent that more than half the population can be
classified as ‘informal’ (see Davis, 2006; Neuwrith, 2006; Roy, 2005). Around
Jewish Beer Sheva, gray spaces are evident by sprawling expanses of Arab
shanty towns and villages, made mostly of tin and wooden shacks. They are also
evident in ‘illegal’ and temporary urban residents mainly in the dilapidated
Ottoman city and the adjacent impoverished neighborhoods.
In the urban policy sphere, including planning, gray spaces are usually tolerated
quietly, often even encouraged, while being encaged within discourses of
‘contamination’,‘criminality’ and ‘public danger’ to the desired ‘order of things’.

Typically, the concrete emergence of ‘stubborn’ informalities is ‘handled’ not
through corrective or equalizing policy, but through by a range of delegitimizing
and criminalizing discourses. This creates boundaries that divide urban
groups according to their status – a process of ‘separating incorporation’. This
double-edged move tends to preserve gray spaces, activities and populations in
‘permanent temporariness’ – concurrently tolerated and condemned, perpetually
waiting ‘to be corrected’.
Gray spaces have increasingly come to characterize urban regions of late
capitalist/nationalist era, especially, but far from solely, in the global South-East.
They define and then contain a range of marginalized and essentialized ‘castes’
in the emerging urban regimes of our times. Further exploration of this
phenomenon reveals that the uneven incorporation of groups and spaces, points
to the re-appearance of colonial relations to today’s cities. This has become a
common form of de facto metropolitan governance.
Return of the colonial?
The plight of ‘Attiya and Svetlana in Beer Sheva represents two faces of
contemporary urban colonial relations. Here ‘Colonial’ does not relate necessarily
to European (capital ‘C’) Colonialism, or to the subsequent ‘postcolonial’
relations. Rather, it refers to a multi-faceted and broader understanding of
regulating power to facilitate the process of seizure and appropriation, under
which the urban political economy is based on several key principles:
a) expansion of dominant interests (spatially or otherwise)
b) exploitation of marginalized groups;
c) essentialization of identities; based on institutionalization of ‘different and
unequal’; and
d) hierarchical and coerced segregation.
Drawing inspiration from thinkers such as Agamben (2006), Holston (2007),
Jacobs (1998), Marcuse (2007 [AQ: check date, 2002 in refs list?]), Mbembe
(2005 [AQ: check date, 2003 in refs list?]), Roy (2000) and Samaddar (2007), and
adopting a broadly ‘neo-Gramscian’ framework, help us analyze the stories of
Svetlana and Attiya as representing different historical and political trajectories
through which urban colonial relations are formed. Both, however, represent a
direct result of the uneven incorporation of gray spaces into the everyday of
today’s globalizing urban societies, under the hegemonic forces of neoliberal
economy and associated identity orders, such as nationalism, ethnicity, race and
religion. This may not be universal, as some urban regions do not (yet?) display
the kind of colonial relations describe above. Nevertheless, it is a growing
phenomenon, meaning that the Beer Sheva metropolis, as well as Israel/
Palestine, are not an exception, but rather a hyper-example of structural relations
unfolding in thousands of cities around the changing globe.
The urban scene is pivotal to the understanding of the new order, because it
combines both ‘old’ and ‘new’ types of colonial relations.1 The former alludes
to expansion ‘from above’ of an ethnic or national group, mainly with the active

assistance of the state, into urban territories previously controlled by other
collectivities. This movement creates ‘urban frontiers’, where sovereignty and
group territorialities are contested typically through development projects, land
allocation, militarized control or disinvestment. Well known examples are
Belfast, Sarajevo, Beirut, Jerusalem, Ahmadabad, Johannesburg, Gruzni or
Colombo, to name just a few.
The latter (‘new’ colonial relations) can be described as ‘centripetal’ or
‘inverse’ or colonialism, denoting a centralizing process generated ‘from below’
in which continuous (internal and international) urban immigration of unregistered,
marginalized, temporary or ‘floating’ groups settle in the metropolis.
This process is described by Bayat (2007) as ‘the slow encroachment of the
ordinary’ and by Perera (2002) as the ‘indigenization of the plan’. Such processes
stretch beyond binary colonizer–colonized relations, and result in expanding
informal and unauthorized development, enabled by increasing migration, as
well as a neoliberalizing, semi-privatized spatial order. Examples abound and
include many of the large metropolitan regions in South America, Africa and
Asia (see also Angotti, 2006; Davis, 2006; Neuwrith, 2006; Roy, 2005).
The distinction between the two types of colonial relations is of course
mainly analytical. ‘On the ground’ the two phenomena are rarely mutually
exclusive, as colonized ethnic minorities often build their own informal settlements
or migrate into existing ones. The urban frontier tends to produce a chain
reaction of dislocations in which state-sanctioned planned activities coercively
disperse groups into new informal and unplanned gray spaces. At the same time
migrant movements create their own frontiers and their own sets of urban
displacements and relocations (see also Roy, 2002; Tzfadia and Yacobi, 2007).
Gray space ‘from above’?
In June 2008, in one of Beer Sheva’s central hotels, a planning appeal tribunal
convened to discuss objections to the latest metropolitan plan for Beer Sheva.
The readers may recall that the plan proposed to ‘relocate’ (that is, evict) 36
unrecognized localities, among them Chashem Zaneh. The following exchange
between ‘Attiya and the District planner at the tribunal is highly illustrative of
the urban colonial process:
‘Atiyya al-’Athameen: we demand to move the highway planned on top of our
locality . . . this road will bisect, and hence destroy our settlement, where 2200
people live. We were here before the planning law and even before the state. We are
citizens whose basic rights should be protected . . . The road can wait and should be
re-planned in a different location . . .
The Chief District Planner: . . . unfortunately, the Bedouins will have to move,
because they are illegally occupying state land . . . we are preparing good
alternatives for them . . . and beside – they are blocking private investment in the
region . . . the new highway is necessary for encouraging such investment . . . we
have already some proposals for investment in that area . . . also – the road will
connect the new planned army bases . . . I know these bases are not shown on the
plan, but I am sure they will be built soon . .

Beyond the threat of a forced eviction of an indigenous group, there is another
issue, namely the forming of gray space ‘from above’. The issue of future investment
and army bases, both proposed outside the metropolitan plan in question,
portray gray space as not being confined to the deprived urban fringe. It also
exists at the privileged edges, those which straddle the ‘high’ boundaries of the
power systems, exempted from strict legal compliance. These include powerful
actors grouped under the generalizing rubric ‘development’, ‘security’ or
‘national needs’. The most powerful contravention of planning rules from
‘above’ occurs when all three elements are combined.
Given the gradual retreat of governments from regulating urban development
in the name of ‘letting the market do the job’, it is now well known that
city planning has come to resemble an entrepreneurial agent, seeking to
maximize growth, efficiency and accumulation (see Harvey, 2002). Under an
increasing neoliberal culture or ‘urban developmentalism’ (Roy, 2002), planning
is structurally inclined to wave planning rules to developments that regularly
contravene urban policies (see Marcuse, 2002).
Beyond accommodating capital, security and national interests, gray spaces
are sanctioned ‘from above’ through benign tolerance and even facilitation of
groups favored by the regime. These may include private ‘settlers’ in areas of
ethnic conflict, bohemians and artists in areas of urban renewal, or religious
institutions in areas lacking social services.
The understanding of gray space as stretching over the entire spectrum, from
powerful developers to landless and homeless ‘invaders’, helps us conceptualize
two associated dynamics we may be term here ‘whitening’ and ‘blackening’.
The former alludes to the tendency of the system to ‘launder’ gray spaces
created ‘from above’ by powerful or favorable interests. The latter denotes the
process of ‘solving’ the problem of marginalized gray space by destruction,
expulsion or elimination. The state’s violent power is put into action, turning
gray into black.
We can therefore perceive gray space as a potential zone of societal transformation.
For powerful groups, entering the gray zone would often derive from
a calculated risk for achieving net economic and political gains. For some
marginalized groups, too, transgressing legal space may carry the potential of
‘whitening’ and with the associated social upgrading and blessed stabilization.
On the other hand, for most peripheral groups it is created by necessity and is
associated with some considerable dangers: it could be severely punished,
throwing the group into financial disaster, property loss, injury or even exile.
In most cases, however, gray space will not be eliminated, but maintained by
a ‘politics of un-recognition’ accompanied by marginalizing indifference. It will
be typically ‘flanked’ by contradictory discursive movements. On the one hand,
professional and political denial (of its very existence, as well as the denial of
services, status or legitimacy), while on the other a persistent discourse of
‘othering’, and an occasional ‘performance’ of punitive threat. There is no room
here to properly analyze the set of interests that create and maintain gray space,
except to note that its partial inclusion serves important aspects of the local
economy, while its exclusion from full membership serves political and

interests. As explained elsewhere (Yiftachel and Yacobi, 2004 [AQ: not in refs
list, [please supply]), gray space is caught between the logics of capital, governance
and identity.
Urban planning – that is, the combination of relevant spatial policies – is
often behind both the existence and criminalization of gray space. Urban plans
design the city’s ‘white’ spaces which usually create little or no opening for
inclusion/recognition of most informal localities and population, while their
discourse continuously condemns them as a chaotic danger to the city. Under
these circumstances we must of course consider selective non-planning as part
of planning, and as a form of active or negligent exclusion. In these pervasive
settings planning is far from a profession promoting just and sustainable
urbanism; it is rather a system managing profound societal inequalities – a
system of ‘creeping apartheid’.
‘Creeping apartheid’?
The various configurations of gray space result, so I argue, in a process of
‘creeping urban apartheid’. Why ‘apartheid’? Because membership in the urban
community is stratified and essentialized, creating a range of unequal urban
citizenship(s). The inequalities between residents of the same city are most
typically found in basic rights to property, services and political power. The
gradation of rights and capabilities are commonly based on inscribed classifi-
cations, such as race, ethnicity, class, caste and place of birth, creating and
upholding a basic apartheid setting – one land, many legal statuses. Significantly
for planning theorists, tools for classifying and stratifying groups often derive
from the grids and categories laid by urban planning.
Urban plans provide the authorities with an arsenal of categories to define
and treat gray space and bodies, such as ‘illegal resident/immigrant’, ‘unapproved
development’, ‘illegal housing’, or ‘land invasion’, or alternatively –
‘necessary development’, ‘new employment provider’, ‘urban regeneration’ or
in the colonial settings discussed here, also ‘buffer zones’ and ‘security enhancement’.
These categories, like many others, translate planning regulations into a
system of civil stratification, whereby those occupying gray spaces are either
streamlined or separated membership. In this context, consider the statement
of a member in the Beer Sheva Planning Committee, commenting on the
distortion of city plans for commercial areas by large developers:
In the case of Beer Sheva the process was quite simple: commercial developers
purchased large tracts of cheap and contaminated industrial land, and developed
several shopping centers . . . these did not match our city plan . . . however, they
applied to the Council – after commencing construction – and received ‘temporary’
approval . . . this was granted in most cases, and is valid until today . . . the temporary
setting is available because our formal plan is not approved yet . . . I agree that
formally this bordered on illegal construction but there is a geographic-political
reality here – no mayor can refuse today an offer of urban investment . . .
The differential treatment of unauthorized and often illegal construction
between ‘whitened’ commercial developments and ‘blackened’ demolished

Bedouins homes mentioned earlier, needs no further illustration. To capture
this structural reality, I prefer the term ‘creeping apartheid’ to softer descriptions
such as ‘discrimination’ or ‘inequality gaps’, because the transformation of
cities in our age is profound. The inferior position of marginalized gray spaces
and groups is not simply a result of ‘discrimination’ but the consequence of
deeply embedded institutional, material and spatial systems which accord
unequal ‘packages’ of rights and capabilities to the various groups, as well as
fortify the separation between them.
If so, then why ‘creeping’? Because in most cases, the discriminatory
‘apartheid’ order is obviously not officially declared, and at times not even
desired. Yet, given structural constraints, it is ‘creeping’ into the daily governance
of urban society and gradually changing its regime through incremental regulation
and institutionalization. In other words, over time the ‘ladder’ of urban
civil status is partially institutionalized through the ongoing implementation of
urban policy, service delivery and a range of discriminatory daily practices. In
this vein, consider Svetlana’s comment about receiving basic services:
We need special permission from the council to receive water, electricity, telephone,
etc. . . . we are not entitled to any housing or tax benefits as do Israelis . . . but the
worst is health: when we come to a clinic to see a doctor, we always have to wait till
the end, because we cannot belong to a health fund, and hence cannot have proper
appointments . . . many prefer to go to a private doctor if their papers are not in
order, so they are not ‘discovered’ . . . getting services is like asking for favors all
the time . . .
Such institutionalization creates increasingly predictable patterns of institutions,
regulations, discourses and disciplinary practices, all aimed at dealing
with the relations between gray spaces and bodies and the sanctioned ‘white’
space of the urban. When these patterns crystallize into a relatively stable
manner of managing the metropolis, we can begin to discern an urban regime –
an institutionalized power system controlling space and population.
The term ‘urban regime’ became popular in urban scholarship, mainly during
the 1990s (see Lauria, 1997; Stone, 1989). It was, however, largely confined to
the Anglo-Saxon world, to understand development coalitions and ‘growth
machines’. Here I wish to broaden this useful term and link it to the general
social science concept of ‘regime’ which denotes an institutionalized logic of
power. Regimes define, maintain and evolve ‘the accepted order of things’ in
the public spheres, alluding not only to economics, but also to identities, governance
and cultural norms. Regimes are often identified according to the most
prominent characteristics of the power structure – democratic, ethnocratic,
theocratic, authoritarian, totalitarian, communist, and so on.
Why does the apartheid ‘order of things’ continue to be consolidated in
metropolitan regions around the world? A key factor, so my argument goes, is
their ability to successfully manage the new colonial relations. These regimes
allow established groups to maintain and deepen their urban privileges in the
wake of profound demographic change. They use a range of discourses, classi-
fications and technologies to rank the rights of urban groups and

based on ethnic identity, economic position, land holdings, political standing, or
any combination of the above.
The term ‘metropolis’ itself, we should remember, harbors distinct colonial
connotations. Already in ancient Greece it meant a ‘mother city’ to the chain
of colonies spread in the ‘diaspora’ (see Agamben, 2006). During modern times,
European ‘metropolitan’ society came to mark the colonial state, controlling its
distant colonies. During the 21st century, with the advent of ‘gray’ spaces and
populations, colonial elements return to characterize metropolitan societies,
although in a different ‘inverse’ trajectory.
But caution is in order. First, urban regimes, be they democratic, ethnocratic
or apartheid-like, do not exist in isolation, and have not replaced states. They
are embedded in the political legal geographies of globalizing states. As nodal
points in state and global networks, their influence often challenges existing
borders, but states still preside over organized violence, border controls, citizenship
and immigration. The monopoly that states once had over these spheres is
indeed diminishing while urban political power is changing and strengthening
(see Yacobi, 2007), but urban regimes are still constrained by the fields of state
and international powers (see Brenner, 2007; Sidaway, 2007).
And further qualification: urban regimes are not likely to be defined
formally as are states, with clear boundaries, constitutions, legal systems and
formal citizenship. They evolve with a pastiche of ‘patched’ and partially overlapping
‘medieval-like’ power systems (see alSayyad and Roy, 2006). There is
no room in this article to seriously deal with the important urban-state debate
(see Brenner, 2007; Sidaway, 2007; Taylor, 2007), except to note the growing
centrality of urban systems that shape people’s lives (that is, their substantive
citizenship), through the materiality, politics and subjectivity of urban existence
(see Samaddar, 2007).
A comparative touch
My recent empirical and theoretical work has focused on metropolitan
processes in ethnocratic states, in which liberalizing pressures interact with
powerful ethno-religious or racialized narratives and territorialities. A
comparative approach took me to sites outside Palestine/Israel, such as Tallinn,
Colombo, Perth, Cape Town and Jerusalem. For a long time, minorities in most
of these cities have suffered the status of second-class citizens, being on the
fringe of politics, economy and culture in states devoted to ‘ethnicize’ the public
sphere and assert total control of the dominant ethnos (see Forman and Kedar,
2004; Yiftachel, 2006, 2007).
Yet, these cities are not replicas of their states. The urban setting does make
a difference, with its relative openness that allows minorities to mobilize for their
rights in a way not possible on the state level. For example, during 2007 and 2008,
Colombo authorities made several attempts to evict ‘unauthorized’ Tamil
internal refugees, who reside in temporary housing. Over 700 people were
evicted, but this action provoked Tamil and human rights groups to mobilize
wide urban and international pressure against this policy, causing the authorities
to halt the ‘operation’ and even issue an apology.

Similarly, the large Russian minority in Tallinn, rallied in mass violent protest
that lasted several days in May 2007, when city leaders decided to remove a Red
Army statue from one of the city squares, in order to erase reference to the
Soviet past. Most Russians occupy a sort of gray space – they are not citizens
of Estonia but are permanent residents of Tallinn. Their mobilization in the
aftermath of the statue removal caused city officials to launch a range of
appeasing statements and policies towards the minority.
In Cape Town, landless members of the ‘Eighth Street’ community, in the
Mitchell Planes, occupied an empty site for several years, near the planned
neighborhood of Halvalla. City authorities tried to violently evict them twice,
but their organized resistance, and enduring life in appalling conditions was
recently rewarded, when the City of Cape Town (previously the Cape Town
Metropolitan Council) recognized the community, and began a formalization
process of land and housing.
Just like the Bedouins around Beer Sheva, the protesting groups in Colombo,
Tallinn and Cape Town have mobilized not just for their own (very important)
local demands, but also to assert their urban citizenship. By protesting and
negotiating the terms of ‘whitening’ their gray space, these minority movements
staked a claim to belonging to the city and its political community. The point
here is that this kind of mobilization is far more likely on an urban, than on a
state level, where state economic and identity agendas are deeply enshrined.
The vignettes from the three cities highlight another phenomenon:
marginalized gray spaces and populations are never merely passive victims in
the process of urbanization. They often use their territorial and/or political
exclusion to develop a strong sense of identity and mobilize persistent struggles.
But despite their partial gains, the conditions of minorities in these cities is still
a far cry from attaining ‘planning citizenship’ on which we touch on below.
Back to theory
Planning has become a lynchpin in this emerging order. The urbanization of
politics, and the amplification of gray spaces, have meant that control over
development, urban services, boundary making, housing and communal recognition
is gradually increasing in importance. Hence, urban planning becomes a
potentially powerful governing tool with which to shape people’s lives and
subjectivities. Planning (or lack of) provides the authorities with a set of technologies
with which they can legalize, criminalize, incorporate or evict. Planning
categories and mechanisms allow the loci of power to construct or destroy,
‘whiten’ or ‘blacken’ urban development and populations. The negotiation of
gray space, either locally or regionally, has become in many cities the stuff of
urban politics itself.
After many years of silence, the theoretical literature has begun to address
this phenomenon, with important works of authors such as alSayyad and Roy
(2004), Bayat (2007), Dierwechter (2002, 2006), Harrison et al. (2007), Oldfield
and Stokke (2006), Roy (2005) and Watson (2002), who address the emergence
of informalities and their association with planning and urban subjectivities.
However, the issue is still highly marginal to the main stages of theoretical

planning discourse. To illustrate, in a content analysis of six leading international
planning journals over a period of three years (2005–08), only three (!)
out of 327 published articles, were devoted to the issue of urban informality.2
Given the prominence of informality in the new phase of global urbanization,
this is a major lacuna.
Significantly, the informality topic opens up space for novel theoretical
contributions to emerge from the global South-East, and truly engage with the
local and global ramifications of an emerging urban order (see Yiftachel, 2007).
This is important substantially, because gray space is finding its way to North-
Western metropolises, especially in immigrant societies. It is also important
academically, as the hegemony of planning knowledge derived from the global
North-West has been deep and persistent (see Roy, 2008). As shown recently
by Stiftel and Makhopodhyay (2007), this hegemony is not only unjust in terms
of distributing scholarly resources and prestige, it also impedes theoretical
development on some prominent urban topics of our age.
Towards ‘planning citizenship’?
Clearly, much remains to be explored, and the conceptual scheme outlined here
raises as many questions as it provides answers. There are many ways to progress
in exploring these critical issues, and one may be the development of ‘planning
citizenship’ as a useful tool with which to conceptualize the impact of urban
regimes on people materialities and identities. The articulation of ‘planning
citizenship’ can be both analytical and normative, providing theorists with a
yardstick of ‘the way things are’, and ‘the way they should be’.
There is no room here to fully articulate this concept, beyond some early
remarks. Drawing on the Lefebvrian notion of ‘right to the city’, but taking it
further, planning citizenship should include a range of measures linking spatial
policy to full political, cultural and material membership in the metropolis. It
may span issues such as land, housing, poverty, accessibility, livelihood, environmental
quality, as well as identity, participation and empowerment. Planning
citizenship should focus on material capabilities and communal identity as areas
of high priority, as distinct from state-level citizenship with its emphasis on
national identity and formal rights (for early elaboration, see Yiftachel, 2007).
This emphasis is applicable to all cities, but particularly to planning interventions
in situations of ‘creeping apartheid’, in which the regulation of space
is a central element in building, and hence also deconstructing, this distorted
urban order.
Yet, merely flagging the notion of ‘planning citizenship’ runs the risk of
composing an abstract wish-list. It will only be useful if planners attempt to
‘ground’ it in the actual urban planning and development. This requires
professional mobilization and willingness to politicize planning through
working with marginalized groups to achieve their rightful stake in the city, as
well as opposing the colonization of the city by powerful interests ‘from above’.
Against the proliferation of gray spaces, and in response to the conditions of
urban apartheid described above, it also requires the development of ‘insurgent

planning’ (Holston, 2007), that runs against the logic of domination and
exploitation which stand behind the very making of marginalized gray space,
and its discursive criminalization by urban policy and discourse.
Campaigning seriously for planning citizenship means the transgression
of the colonial urban order, and the opening of ‘whitened’ spaces of the
metropolis to all groups. This means creating planning conditions which would
release communities such as the Bedouin Arabs in Chashem Zaneh from their
colonial entrapment, typically captured in ‘Atiyya al-’Athameen’s testimony to
the District planning objection tribunal:
. . . in our rightful ‘sumood’ [steadfast struggle to remain on their land – O.Y.] we
have no choice but to break the law . . . because the law and its plans came to this
place and tried to erase it many years after it was established . . . our community
belongs to this place, and the place belongs to the community . . . even if our houses
are demolished again, we shall remain on our land . . . we cannot ever accept the
plan that destroys our only community.
‘Atiyya’s testimony echoes in thousands of places around the world, where the
structural dynamics have pushed massive groups of people into ‘gray space’,
with its typical oscillation between recognition and destruction, membership
and eviction. Applying the concept of planning citizenship to these spaces
implies a constant struggle against the emerging regimes of urban apartheid. I
suggest that planning theorists cannot continue to overlook the importance of
this phenomenon, and place it at the centre of their inquiry. In so doing they
will not only respond to a scholarly need and a moral cry, but also engage with
the future of urbanism itself.