Building illusory unity with Ernesto Laclau – Why ‘closure’ should not be a dirty word in planning theory

Abstract

Critically oriented planning theories aim for emancipation and systemic change. This paper explores the challenges of communicative and agonistic approaches in achieving this goal, arguing that difficulties arise when these theories are applied at inappropriate operational levels. By examining these approaches in terms of opening and closing political space – crucial for initiating and securing systemic change – it highlights the risks of overemphasizing disagreement and opening-up, which can hinder reflexive decision-making in planning and ultimately systemic change. Drawing on Ernesto Laclau and Chantal Mouffe’s hegemony theory and Laclau’s populism theory, the paper proposes a framework that balances opening and closing by fostering a unity and collective will that facilitates decision-making while pursuing systemic change. This unity, while necessary, is ultimately illusory in nature; a tool for temporarily stabilizing new hegemonic orders when navigating the field of planning marked by difference and disagreement.

Introduction

Communicative planning theory (CPT) and agonistic planning theory both represent procedure-oriented critical theory tradition ¹ , with two notable currents: the Frankfurt School and post-structuralism (see, e.g. Keucheyan, 2014). As CPT stems from the former and agonistic planning theory from the latter, they are often seen as opposing each other (Bäcklund and Mäntysalo, 2010; Hillier, 2003a; Mäntysalo et al., 2011; McClymont, 2011; Pløger, 2004), with agonistic planning theory critiquing CPT. However, they have also been studied as mutually complementary (Bond, 2011; Inch, 2015; Mäntysalo et al., 2023; Mouat et al., 2013), and they do indeed share some common concerns. They both identify limitations of traditional planning paradigms, and seek, in their own terms, to advocate for more inclusive, socially just, and democratic planning processes. However, if applied superficially, neither theory succeeds in providing a framework for transforming inequitable power relations; instead, they may preserve the potentially oppressive status quo (Bond, 2011: 162), leaving democratic aspirations unfulfilled.

In seeking democratic legitimacy, planning theories emphasize procedure, accountability, and inclusiveness (Falleth et al., 2010). While accountability focuses on political representatives and statutory procedures, inclusiveness stresses citizen participation (Mäntysalo et al., 2015: 355–356). Critically oriented theories often highlight direct, non-parliamentary participation; adhering to the principle of involving ‘those affected’ (Falleth et al., 2010; Inch, 2015). While citizen participation undeniably brings local knowledge and perspectives into planning, its actual impact on decisions often remains unclear (Falleth et al., 2010; Inch, 2015). The legitimacy of public planning relies on several sources (Mäntysalo et al., 2015), but in terms of democratic legitimacy, decision-making is central. According to Inch (2015: 421), “the debate between an agonistic opening up of disagreement and a deliberative desire for consensus at some level does revolve around creating legitimate procedures for taking decisions”. In this vein, this paper places decision-making at the centre of planning democracy, while committing to challenging the status quo and correcting oppressive structures.

Correcting oppressive structures necessitates systemic change that goes beyond addressing symptoms to tackle the root causes and underlying patterns that perpetuate inequalities. The systemic change can be understood as a transformation of the social order (see, e.g., Bond, 2011) – the specific configuration of discourses, structures, institutions, norms, and values that sustain social, political, economic, and cultural systems. As this order assigns certain positions to members of society, determining who is seen and heard in planning and politics, it must at times be open to challenge, in the name of democracy.

This paper approaches systemic change by examining the opening-up and the closing-down of political space within critical planning theory tradition. While the opening-up – expanding opportunities for political participation and fostering diversity – has been extensively studied, the closing-down has received less attention. Opening-up is crucial for initiating systemic change as it sparks dialogue and challenges dominant discourses, policies, and practices. Conversely, closing-down is often associated with restricting these opportunities, even oppression and authoritarian or totalitarian regimes, as discussed in Lefortian analyses, often used in populism research (see, e.g., Müller, 2016; Rosanvallon, 2008). However, closing-down can also mean the momentary stabilization of a new discourse, establishing a situational common ground for democratic decision-making beyond mere voting and aggregating individual preferences.

There appears to be an imbalance in planning theoretical discussion, with greater emphasis on the opening-up than the closing-down of political space. While the diversity of competing views, understandings, and interests is necessary for functioning democracy, it adds complexity and renders decision-making political. Proceeding to the ‘doing’ of planning becomes more difficult (Bond, 2011; Metzger et al., 2014). An overemphasis on openness and disagreement (Norval, 2004) not only slows the process – an acceptable cost of democracy – but, as this paper argues, an endless nurturing of diversity may ultimately impede systemic change. If each perspective is valued in isolation, the collective power necessary for such change may fail to emerge. This challenge is further exacerbated by the growing reliance on digital participation platforms, which tend to facilitate the expression of individual opinions rather than collective views, thereby hindering the formation of a strong unified front.

This brings us to a more general trend within new critical theories. Following Keucheyan (2014), these theories are characterized by the multiplication of ‘secondary fronts’, such as feminism, anti-colonialism, and ecology. As Keucheyan (2014: 49) notes, contemporary critical theorists, lacking a hegemonic subject to replace the working class, seek possible substitutes or new articulations. While this fragmentation of the front against oppressive forces introduces diverse perspectives, interests, and identities, it also weakens the overall strength of the front. The key topic of this paper is the role of unity in pursuing systemic change.

Though often overlooked, closure as a unifying concept is necessary in planning. Scholars like Eranti and Meriluoto (2023: 695, 704) call for more attention to this “other side of the democratic coin”, demanding deeper understanding of the formation of commonalities, not just conflict. Inch (2015: 408), citing Norval (2004), notes that an emphasis on openness alone, as in agonism, fails to address the need for institutionalizing democratic principles, thus inadequately explaining how legitimate decisions can be made (see also Mäntysalo et al., 2023). This paper argues for balancing opening-up and closing-down political space, proposing that closure can inform planning decision-making while enabling systemic change. It draws on Laclau and Mouffe’s (1985) hegemony theory and Laclau's (2005a, 2005b) theory of populism, to examine unity, collective power, and decision-making in planning. While arguing for unity, the paper acknowledges that it is ultimately an illusion, serving as a strategy for change. Whereas the hegemony theory provides a general ontology for the study, the populism theory provides an elaborate logic to build unity from disagreement, structuring it into effective opposition and clarifying the stakes of decision-making in contested fields. Laclau’s theory explains both the deliberate formation of collective will and the less intentional actions driven by needs and grievances, deepening the understanding of the social and operational environment where planning occurs.

The paper begins by examining CPT and agonistic planning theory from the perspective of opening and closing political space, followed by an exploration of Laclau’s work to address the latter. The Helsinki Guggenheim Museum initiative illustrates closure as a momentary stabilization of the discursive field, highlighting the heated public debate and the unity that emerged among cultural activists, which likely swayed public opinion against the project. The analysis then shifts to a general level, proposing a planning-theoretical approach that builds on the interplay between CPT and agonistic planning, enriched with Laclau’s account. It addresses blind spots between the theories and identifies their respective operational levels. By doing so, the paper argues for a better understanding of the dynamic interplay between stabilizing policy and challenging the potentially oppressive status quo.

The challenge of systemic change in communicative planning theory and agonistic planning theory

Pursuing both opening-up and closing-down is difficult, as the two naturally oppose each other. Thus, neither CPT nor agonistic planning theory appears to fully achieve the goal of systemic change.

CPT, following deliberative democracy theory, excels in addressing decision-making: The consensus supposedly created in deliberate dialogue and critical reflection not only legitimizes the decision at hand but also informs and facilitates decision-making. CPT provides tools for building a common ground – a form of closure – on which to base a democratic decision. Its emphasis on communication and rational argumentation distinguishes CPT within the broader landscape of critical planning scholarship, but also diverts attention from systemic change.

While CPT acknowledges the political nature of planning and that power relations are shaped by the specific social, economic, and political contexts (see, e.g., Forester, 1980; Healey, 1992), it remains unclear how rational argumentation can alter these contexts. CPT advocates diversity in public participation: the inclusion of diverse stakeholders in the planning process. Thus, different views, concerns, and demands are shared and heard when consensus is negotiated among stakeholders. CPT also recognizes that different groups have varying degrees of power and influence, and that broader political-economic forces may impede or promote the democratic planning process (Forester, 1980). While CPT seeks to address imbalances in power relations and pay attention to marginalized voices, it remains vague about how these voices enter the process. Given that non-parliamentary participation is often selective (see, e.g. Allmendinger and Haughton, 2012; Metzger et al., 2014; Swyngedouw, 2011; Wilson and Swyngedouw, 2014), and participation by all ‘those affected’ is practically never realized, it is crucial to ask with whom the consensus is negotiated. Who gets to have a say in planning? While systemic approaches in deliberative democracy recognize the potential of protest ² in amplifying marginalized voices (Mansbridge et al., 2012), CPT does little to extend efforts beyond traditional participation to reach ‘those affected’. Critics argue that CPT may inadvertently reinforce existing power dynamics by not fully addressing deeper structural issues of power and inequality in planning (Bengs, 2005; Hillier, 2003a; Purcell, 2009).

CPT tends to remain at the situational level of individual planning processes (Mäntysalo et al., 2023; Sager, 2013); disagreements are treated as conflicts that are manageable through collaborative strategies within formal planning processes (Kanninen, 2017: 148, drawing on Innes and Booher). By overlooking transformations in identities and worldviews (Bäcklund and Mäntysalo, 2009; Forester, 1993), the theory risks reproducing the existing power relations in planning. While CPT provides valuable tools for resolving disagreement through rational argumentation, communicative planning fails to challenge the existing social order, addressing only issues arising within this order. Thus, it indeed facilitates closure by guiding the configuration of conditions towards decision-making, but the opening of political space for challenging the status quo is left unaddressed. Perhaps CPT fails to address systemic change because it does not recognize the need for it.

In turn, systemic change is at the core of agonism. Drawing from post-foundationalist political thinking (see, e.g., Marchart, 2007), it considers disagreement essential for the functioning of democracy, not a sign of its dysfunction; conflict is a means of fostering democratic engagement and a catalyst for systemic change. Disagreement reflects the pluralism of conflicting interests, values, and perspectives in societies and ensures that different voices are heard in the political process. Agonistic planning, drawing particularly on Mouffe’s (e.g., 2000, 2005) work, seeks to reach those who fall outside the pre-set realm of participation by broadening the realm of the political beyond the traditional political sphere (see, e.g., Bäcklund and Mäntysalo, 2010; Bond, 2011; Hillier, 2003a; Mäntysalo et al., 2011; McClymont, 2011; Pløger, 2004). Thus, agonistic planning promotes the opening of political space for contestation and alternative voices.

Yet, agonism does not apply to planning without problems. The weakness of agonistic planning is suggested to lie in the difficulty in reaching planning decisions in a field marked by contestation (Bond, 2011). Planning “necessarily involves ’closing down’ of multiplicity to singularity: the plan and the territory it represents” (Metzger et al., 2014: 13). The challenge is to nurture disagreement while making decisions that inevitably exclude some alternatives and views (Pløger, 2017). Agonistic planning theorists struggle to turn dissensus into a productive means of reaching legitimate planning decisions (Mäntysalo et al. 2023: 9; see also Pløger, 2017).

This problem has two aspects: the practical applicability of agonism and its relationship to closure. Wingenbach (2011: xi) writes: “…the move from critique to models has proved consistently unsatisfying.” Keucheyan attributes the challenges of applying new critical theories to their detachment from actual political processes. This gap, dating back to Western Marxism in the mid-1920s, contrasts with classical Marxism, where key theorists were also political leaders (Keucheyan, 2014: 72). Some critical theorists are seen as ‘pessimists’ who critique society without offering strategies for change (Keucheyan, 2014: 57). While Mouffe engages with political processes, she tends to leave practical applications to others, providing a critical framework rather than step-by-step tools for action; her strategic insights inform political action and planning.

The tension between agonistic planning and closure may stem from a disconnection from the broader post-structuralist and post-foundationalist context from which agonism originates. Bond (2011: 162) warns against applying agonistic pluralism in the absence of Mouffe’s wider understandings of hegemony, power and the political. Mouffe’s steadfast emphasis on the enemy-adversary relationship – transforming antagonism into agonism (Mouffe, 2000, 2005, 2013) – may not help either as it overshadows the roots of her thinking in hegemony theory (Laclau and Mouffe, 1985). Hegemony theory involves not only the contestation of existing hegemonies but also the establishment of new ones, making it possible to overturn a potentially oppressive status quo and replace it with a new order – again and again.

A new hegemony temporarily stabilizes order, yet agonistic planning theory struggles with this kind of stabilization. Mäntysalo et al. (2023: 9) describe agonistic planning theory’s institutional gap as the “incapability to address the dynamic interplay between institutional reconfiguration and policy stabilization”. This interplay mirrors the balance between opening up the political space and closing it down. Agonistic planning may overemphasize openness, overlooking decision-making and the formation of new hegemonies. By endlessly embracing disagreement and avoiding addressing closure, it fails to achieve systemic change – despite recognizing its necessity. In planning theory, ‘closure’ appears almost a dirty word.

Closure matters: Laclau’s theoretical journey from hegemony to populism

While the concept of closure is present in Laclau and Mouffe’s (1985) hegemony theory, it has not been fully integrated into agonistic planning theory. In Hegemony and Socialist Strategy (HSS), Laclau and Mouffe (1985) emphasize the role of discourse, antagonism, and the construction of political identities in shaping power relations. Laclau’s theory of populism (Laclau, 2005a, 2005b) provides a detailed logic for creating unity from disagreement, aligning diverse demands around a common identity, such as ‘the people’. This unity establishes a hegemonic discourse that momentarily closes political space, facilitating the emergence of ‘those affected by the plan’ in an emancipatory way. Understanding this process helps identify these groups, enhancing democratic decision-making in planning.

In HSS, Laclau and Mouffe present hegemony not as domination, but as a discursive effort to construct a social order – a specific configuration of societal groups, practices, discourses, and so on – in a context of contingency (see, e.g., Norval, 2004; Critchley and Marchart, 2004). This post-Marxist, ³ post-Gramscian ⁴ theory involves winning consent, not by force, but through broad societal support, which is sought by articulating views, demands and desires, and consolidating such norms and values that support the emergence of a new hegemony. The theory distinguishes between two modes of constructing social relations: the logic of difference and the logic of equivalence. The former refers to the expansion of political space and increasing complexity, while the latter refers to its simplification and reducing complexity (Laclau and Mouffe, 1985: 130). These logics parallel the opening-up and the closing-down of political space. Though in tension, they interact dynamically in political practice and are both essential for understanding how hegemony is constructed and contested.

Hegemony theory assumes that meanings and identities are constructed through difference – defined not by inherent essence but by contrast with other entities. Influenced by structuralist linguistics and semiotics, particularly Saussure’s idea that meaning arises from a system of differences, it nonetheless takes a post-structuralist turn in the vein of Derrida: Laclau and Mouffe argue that meaning never settles in a closed, stable system but unfolds in an open field marked by radical contingency (Laclau and Mouffe, 1985; see also, Howarth, 2008: 187). In such an open meaning-formation system, meanings can never be permanently fixed, and the relationship between signifier and signified remains inherently unstable. Using semiotic terminology, signifiers can ‘float,’ remaining open to contestation and reinterpretation (Laclau and Mouffe, 1985: 113). This contingency does not imply a random lottery game but rather the ever-present possibility of re-articulating meanings, as Palonen (2020: 173–174) clarifies. In this open field, politicization (opening-up) contrasts with essentialization (closing-down of a sort): the former detaches established meanings that produce social positioning while the latter (re)attaches them (Palonen, 2020: 174).

However, meanings can be temporarily fixed through political articulation, without an essentialist dimension, as addressed by the logic of equivalence. This process links disparate demands, often arising from various grievances and injustices, to construct a common signifier, a nodal point, which partially fixes meaning within a discursive field. It does so by assuming a ‘universal’ structuring function, thereby simplifying political space. (Laclau and Mouffe, 1985: xi, 113–114). The logic of difference alone is insufficient to construct the limits of a hegemonic formation; the logic of equivalence, introducing negativity into the social field, is also necessary (Laclau and Mouffe, 1985: 130, 143). In other words, the mere accumulation of new positive differences – without drawing a dividing line – does not produce opposition. Imagine, for instance, a political formation comprising feminism, anti-colonialism, and anti-racist mobilizations. Adding another positive difference, such as solidarity economy movement, does not by itself unify the formation. What is needed is an antagonistic other – for example, authoritarian neoliberalism (see, e.g., Bruff and Tansel, 2018), which each of these movements may oppose from different angles. Only by cutting out such a frontier (Laclau and Mouffe, 1985: 143) can the formation constitute itself as a political subject. As Laclau and Mouffe (1985: 143) state: “If we remain in the field of differences, we remain in the field of an infinitude which makes it impossible to think any frontier”. This process of constructing frontiers is central to Laclau’s theory of populism.

Populism is often considered antipluralistic and democracy-distorting (Müller, 2016; Rosanvallon, 2008), with its simplification, totalization and imprecision perceived as dangerous due to potential biases and prejudices. In planning literature, the focus is on the many undesirable features associated with populism, such as xenophobia, racism and authoritarianism (Hillier, 2003b; Rodríguez-Pose, 2018; Sager, 2020). A homogeneous people speaking with one voice is considered tricky, and a unitary ‘will of the people’ an illusion, incompatible with communicative planning theory (Sager, 2020). Planners and elected representatives are feared to be at risk of becoming puppets of populism if they succumb to demands of a group that claims to speak for everyone while acting on behalf of a small part of the community (Hillier, 2003b: 159). While populism is typically viewed as something to be corrected (Rodríguez-Pose, 2018), Laclau challenges this by separating the logic from the content, viewing populism not as an ideology or a collection of features, but a social logic (Laclau, 2005a: xi, 10–16).

His counterintuitive, discourse-theoretical understanding introduces populism as a particular form of political articulation. Instead of defining populism through a set of features, Laclau identifies an ideology or movement as populist if (and to what extent) it follows a certain logic in the articulation of its content (Laclau, 2005b: 33, 47). The logic of populism does not involve a commitment to any particular class or ideology, and it can be used by movements of entirely opposite political signs (Laclau, 2005a: 14, 117, 2005b: 45). It employs ‘tools’, such as simplification, homogenization, and imprecision, to create unity within a field of differences. These ‘tools’ are not entirely foreign to contemporary planning. Buhler (2021) sees ‘discursive vagueness’ as a strategic resource in planning, helping actors build coalitions under adverse circumstances. Metzger et al. (2021) drawing on Laclau, examine the evolution of sustainability discourse in strategic planning, showing how vagueness can facilitate the integration of diverse actors into collective action. Indeed, these ‘tools’ can be used strategically, and as such, they embody a form of social rationality employed within the populist logic (Laclau, 2005a: 13–14).

It is argued that Laclau’s theory of populism, which equates populism with politics tout court, is merely a variant of hegemony theory (Arditi, 2010: 496). However, Laclau’s emphasis on the strategic dimension of politics makes it a distinct political theory and also differentiates it from Mouffe’s thinking. Although Laclau and Mouffe share many ideas, they also have differences. Mouffe focuses on the ethical dimension of politics, advocating for recognition of political plurality, and preventing antagonisms from escalating into violent conflicts, only quite recently showing interest in populism in fighting neoliberalism and right-wing populism (Mouffe, 2018). Laclau explores the actual mechanisms of mobilizing discourses and constructing alliances to effectively challenge dominant hegemonic structures and to achieve emancipatory goals. His theory of populism provides much-needed concreteness, allowing for a more detailed analysis of political dynamics by exploring how the collective identity, ‘the people’, is formed through the articulation of grievances and demands. This articulation culminates in the consolidation of a new hegemonic discourse – a temporary closure of political space that directs political action. Despite the potentially off-putting connotations of terms like ‘populism’ and ‘the people’, they effectively clarify the phenomena Laclau seeks to explain; today, his theory is particularly relevant in the struggle against authoritarian neoliberalism.

Crafting solidarity: How populist logic transforms diverse demands into collective power

In planning, perceived inequalities often give rise to various demands. For Laclau, such particularistic, heterogeneous demands provide a starting point for antagonism and the construction of the logic of populism (Laclau, 2005a: 149, 262; Laclau, 2005b: 34). However, for antagonism to make any difference in society, demands must unite against a common enemy; they must link into a chain of equivalence through populist articulation, which is “a way of forming group unity” (Laclau, 2005a: 73). This can be seen as a concrete manifestation of solidarity.

Laclau, (2005b: 36–37) provides an example typical of urban planning: Residents in a neighbourhood request a bus route to commute to work. As long as we have such punctual demands that can be individually satisfied in an administrative way, we remain within the logic of difference. However, if the city hall rejects their request, a gap emerges between those in power and the frustrated residents. A single demand may not spark change, but if multiple unmet demands – such as those related to security, water supply, housing, or schooling – exist, these frustrations may spark solidarity between people, triggering a social logic capable of making a change. The logic of equivalence then comes into play. Despite their differences, most demands come together, forming an equivalential chain. They are equivalent in that they remain unsatisfied and have the same enemy: the existing order, blamed for the inequalities. (Laclau, 2005a: 19, 72–74, 96; Laclau, 2005b: 36–39). A popular subject emerges through the creation of an internal frontier (Laclau, 2005b: 37–38), which denotes the ‘us-them’ division. Us, ‘the people’, is constructed when one group claims to be the only legitimate ‘people’, and identifies itself with the whole, even though it is only a component of the community (Laclau, 2005a: 81–82; Laclau, 2005b). Each individual demand retains its distinctive nature but connects to others through equivalential links (Laclau, 2005b: 38). The emerging unity ensures political power – a collective voice – enabling people to advocate for their needs and interests. The bus route might become an empty signifier around which expressions of dissatisfaction converge, mobilizing residents.

Identification with a popular identity that consolidates the equivalential chain involves adopting the views and demands of ‘us’. This requires simplifying and homogenizing particularistic demands by allowing vagueness and imprecision to a degree. Laclau assigns these functions to a common signifier, as discussed above in relation to discursive practices in forming hegemony. Overly specific demands would not provide a point of identification for large masses, but a popular symbol can rally widespread support. Importantly, the purpose of simplification and homogenization is to partially ‘empty’ the signifier of its particular meanings (Laclau, 2005a: 94–99, 162; Laclau, 2005b: 38–43), a process Metzger et al. (2021) describe as the ‘hollowing out’ of the meaning of concepts. The signifier turns imprecise as its connection with particularistic demands weakens (Laclau, 2005b: 39). The signifier – now effectively an empty signifier – dichotomizes the discursive field and creates a political frontier (Laclau, 2005b: 38–43; see also, Palonen, 2018: 235).

The fact that the signifier only partially empties, merely approaching emptiness (Laclau, 2005a: 131), is seen by some scholars as a kind of retrospective ‘concession’ by Laclau, a reservation that he himself imposes on his theory, implying that the remnants of the previous meanings necessarily influence the formation of new identities (Vainikkala, 2015). This is true; indeed, while Laclau notes that the logic of populism is not tied to any particular content or ideology (Laclau, 2005a: 117), he does not argue for complete disconnection from them. If a signifier were entirely detached from particularistic meanings, or confused with abstraction – an ultimate positive feature shared by all (Laclau, 2005a: 96) – it would lose its ability to create political divisions and mobilize collective action. Thus, the remnants of previous meanings are not mere traces but essential building blocks of populist mobilization.

However, this reveals a potential risk that Laclau’s theory carries if used as a normative guideline. While populist logic can support democratic or progressive aims, it is not inherently tied to them and can also serve ideologically dangerous purposes. Yet its outright rejection would hinder challenges to existing oppressive or ideologically dangerous structures and political change. Thus, further remarks are needed.

Laclau connects populism to democratic aspirations by stressing that the demands must concern equality, echoing Jacques Rancière, to whom he refers several times in On Populist Reason (Laclau, 2005a). Rancière (1999: 8–9) grants ‘those who have no part’ the right to speak in the name of the whole community due to the ‘wrong’ they have suffered (see also Rancière 2010: 33–36). Similarly, Laclau asserts that the demands must arise from exclusion or deprivation and be “formulated to the system by an underdog of sorts” (Laclau, 2005a: 125, italics in original), emphasizing that the discursive environment in which the demand emerges is crucial (Laclau, 2005a: 128). However, while Rancière emphasizes the sociological nature of ‘those with no part’ (the proletariat), Laclau sees ‘the people’ as a strategic and contingent formation that can cut across different social groups. For Laclau (2005a: 125), the egalitarian dimension is not assessed by any normative judgement but emerges as a logic: the non-fulfilment of demands confronts the status quo, triggering an equivalential logic that forms ‘the people’ (Laclau, 2005a: 127). Moreover, a key criterion for assessing the democratic legitimacy of the entire process can be derived from the ever-present possibility of re-articulating meanings (Palonen, 2020: 173–174), which ensures the continuity of democratic struggle. Integral to both Laclau’s populism and Mouffe’s agonism, marginalized perspectives must retain the capacity to re-enter the struggle and challenge the prevailing order (Tiensuu, 2019: 184–185).

The Laclauian logic of populism focuses on constructing political unity and transforming the excluded into political subjects through discursive articulation. To ensure this, the theory stipulates that when articulating identity politically, the smallest unit of identification must be social demands and not an existing group. Otherwise, populism would merely be an ideology of an already constituted group (Laclau, 2005a: 72–73, see also Palonen, 2018: 235), potentially resulting in identity politics ⁵ . A key aspect in this process is the moment of naming. Popular identity is not a passive expression of pre-existing groups; rather, the collective ‘we’ comes into existence through naming (Laclau, 2005a: 99, 118, 227, see also, Marchart, 2005: 5). This resonates again with Rancière’s view of political subjectification through emancipation, where the subject is created as it is enunciated, like in the expression “we, the workers, are…” (Rancière, 2016: 92–93, see also Rancière, 1999). Through unfulfilled demands and antagonisms, from which solidarity develops, groups yet to be named gain enough power and societal leverage to challenge the existing order, and furthermore, to stake a claim on their place in society.

Importantly, Laclau’s theory is primarily explanatory rather than normative; it clarifies the dynamics of political movements and identity formation. Recognizing these dynamics is valuable in planning, as they shape the social order and influence decision-making – crucial to understanding systemic change. This paper argues that Laclau’s framework helps identify different operational levels in planning, offering insights for developing planning theory.

Opening-up and closing-down of the political space: The Helsinki Guggenheim museum initiative

The Guggenheim Museum initiative in Helsinki serves as an illustrative example of opening-up and closing-down in planning both at the everyday politics’ level and at the level of meanings and identities. It demonstrates the explanatory power of Laclau’s theory by highlighting the dynamic nature of the discursive field where planning decisions take shape. It shows how an illusory unity can emerge amid disagreement, challenging and reconfiguring the social order. This unity assists decision-making by temporarily closing the discursive field, thus allowing systemic change to occur. The case description is based on a study conducted by the author in 2016–2019, utilizing written documentation from various sources, including meeting minutes of the Helsinki City Council and Helsinki City Board, and interviews with local planners, politicians and lobbyists.

The Guggenheim Helsinki project started officially in 2011 when the City of Helsinki commissioned a feasibility study from the Solomon R. Guggenheim Foundation for building a museum in Finland. This sparked intense debate in the media and among citizens and politicians. Although the study, completed a year later, recommended building the museum, the Helsinki City Board rejected the proposal by a narrow margin. In 2013, a new proposal was introduced, leading to an open architectural competition. In 2014–2015, the competition generated more than 1700 entries, with the winning design serving as the basis for yet another proposal, prepared by the City of Helsinki in collaboration with the Guggenheim Helsinki Supporting Foundation. Despite years of determined work by the proponents of the museum, the City Council ultimately voted down the proposal in 2016, marking a form of closure.

From the outset, the city leadership took an active role. The seeds of confrontation were sown early, during the 2011 press conference at Helsinki City Hall, where senior officials from the City of Helsinki and the Guggenheim Foundation were present. After months of preparatory work behind closed doors, the project’s enthusiastic proponents praised the extensive groundwork already done and portrayed the museum as a golden opportunity to put Helsinki in an enviable position on the global map of culture and tourism (City of Helsinki, 2011a, 2011b). Helsinki Mayor Jussi Pajunen referred to the Bilbao Guggenheim Museum as an inspiration (City of Helsinki, 2011a; Heinänen and Uimonen, 2011). Guggenheim Foundation Director Richard Armstrong emphasized Helsinki’s privileged position in negotiating a Guggenheim Museum licence: “… but as you can imagine, many places come to the Guggenheim and ask for such a relationship” (City of Helsinki, 2011a).

Contrary to expectations, not everybody welcomed the project driven by the ‘elite’; the spectacular proposal, presented so abruptly, was found irritating (Lyytinen, 2013). The political space around the museum project opened, and taxpayers’ share of the costs quickly became a central topic of public discussion, along with the remarkably central location next to Helsinki’s South Harbour (Linko, 2020; Lyytinen, 2013). Opponents argued that public money should be allocated to social services rather than culture, especially during the acute economic recession, introducing highly incommensurate perspectives into the debate (Helsinki City Council, 2016a; Linko, 2020: 434). The so-called ‘Bilbao Effect’ – the revitalization of a city through a high-profile cultural project (Linko, 2020; Ponzini and Ruoppila, 2018) – a claim frequently featuring in the leading national newspaper Helsingin Sanomat (Lyytinen, 2014; Saarikoski, 2015; Sirén, 2011), began to face criticism. These debates can be considered a struggle at the level of everyday politics; they revolved around issues such as the financing, architecture, and location of the museum.

A museum is typically regarded as a signifier of culture and art – a place for displaying historical, scientific, artistic, or cultural objects (Oxford English Dictionary, 2024). Over time, however, the Guggenheim Museum came to accommodate several meanings. Initially celebrated as a crown jewel of culture and tourism and a catalyst for economic growth (City of Helsinki, 2011b; Guggenheim Foundation, 2011), this discourse soon faced challenges. A counter-discourse emerged, sparking intense public debate and a hegemonic struggle over the museum’s significance. The political space opened up at the level of meanings and identities, as the opponents refused to let the established groups dictate the meaning of the museum. Instead, they insisted on their own, alternative interpretations, leaving the museum to ‘float’ as a signifier, adrift and open to contestation (Laclau, 2005a: 131).

The struggle brought to light a series of sharp confrontations, as reflected in public discourse and the City Council debates (Helsinki City Council, 2016a): ‘local’, ‘domestic’ and ‘Finnish’ were set against ‘foreign’, ‘imported’ and ‘American’. Likewise, ‘alternative’ and ‘artist-driven’ were pitted against ‘commercial’ and ‘top-down’ approaches. As the debate widened, it transcended the idea of the museum itself, raising broader questions about the cultural policy embodied by the Guggenheim Museum, its tenuous relationship to local identity and community, and, ultimately, about who holds the authority to define the roles of culture and art – the local community or an international actor.

The counter-discourse gained support and mobilized Helsinki’s art scene. Opponents articulated their demands using the concepts of ‘local’, ‘Finnish’, ‘alternative’ and ‘artist-driven’ (Checkpoint Helsinki, n.d; Next Helsinki, 2015). The museum, as a signifier, was ‘emptied’ of its previous meanings; it became an empty signifier (Laclau, 2005a, 2005b), a common denominator around which various grievances and expressions of dissatisfaction converged. Its meaning temporarily solidified, embodying aspects of neoliberalism and cultural imperialism and thus becoming stigmatized – a stigma further amplified in international media (Ritvala et al., 2021: 295–296). Neoliberalism and cultural imperialism – the latter a contested yet resonant concept in critiques of cultural dominance and commercialization (Tomlinson, 1991) – are often seen as opposing the values of artistic creativity and autonomy (Ritvala et al., 2021: 294–295), positioning them as recurring adversaries in cultural-political struggles.

Indeed, through this process, cultural activists – Helsinki-based artists and cultural workers – emerged as new political subjects. They were concerned about the potential dominance of a foreign, commercial operator in the local art scene and the implications for their own livelihoods (Checkpoint Helsinki, n.d). Over time, their unmet demands, such as locally defined art and culture free from market forces, led to growing solidarity, prompting them to organize and form a contemporary art association Checkpoint Helsinki (Checkpoint Helsinki, n.d). Its alternative nature to the Guggenheim Museum initiative was underlined by its rejection of a fixed venue, favouring flexible spaces like streets or the internet, and by its collaboration with local galleries, schools and libraries (Checkpoint Helsinki, n.d). It arranged an international competition to generate alternative visions for the proposed museum site (Next Helsinki, 2015). As the opposition was spelled out loud, “we, local artists and cultural activists…” emerged as a new ‘we-group’ (see, Rancière, 2016: 92–93), potentially affected by the museum plan. The differentiation from the Guggenheim Museum served as a building block for their identity formation; it strengthened their sense of self by underlining what they were not: an extension of imported cultural policy shaped by large institutions operating according to the logic of global market forces.

The demands coalesced into a chain of equivalence, and the resistance to the museum provided a common point of attachment for many people, uniting disparate social groups into a collective political subject (Laclau, 2005a, 2005b). Simplification, homogenization and imprecision operated performatively, strengthening this chain. Though initially fragmented, the resistance evolved into a communal effort to safeguard local authority in defining the roles of art and culture in society. Rooted in unfulfilled demands, it generated dislocation (Laclau, 2005a: 114–121) – destabilizing the existing social order and opening the possibility for a new order based on new discourses and identities. This dislocation did not merely highlight existing disagreements but exposed the instability of the social order, allowing new political subjectivities to emerge as people identified with new discourses (see Howarth, 2008: 186).

This unity was not essentialist and permanent, but politically articulated and momentary. Moreover, it was illusory in a sense that the ‘consensus’ regarding the meaning of the museum as the signifier of neoliberalism and cultural imperialism was by no means shared by everyone. ‘The People’ were constructed when one group, cultural activists, identified themselves with the whole while being only a component of the community (Laclau, 2005a: 81–82), and managed to gain support for their view to the extent that it achieved a hegemonic position. This temporary fixation of the meaning of the museum – a new hegemony in public discourse – altered the social order. This represents closing-down at the level of meanings and identities. While this closure was temporary, it had some lasting consequences.

In 2016, the City Council rejected the Guggenheim Museum proposal with 32 votes for and 53 against, with the final debate and voting echoing the protesters’ arguments. It represents a closing-down at the everyday politics level. This outcome was not merely an agglomeration of individual votes but mirrored a new social order, altered by new meanings and discourses and the emancipation of cultural activists. Although economic aspects were still fiercely debated in the final City Council discussion (Helsinki City Council, 2016a), arguments for the museum’s economic benefits gradually lost their force, while counter-arguments aligned more easily with the new hegemony. The discursive field was now relatively simple and the political fronts clear (see Palonen, 2018). In this framework, a decision could be made more consciously and reflexively than in a completely fragmented discursive field. Disagreement never ceased to exist, nor was it merely recognized. Instead, disagreement was structured into political opposition. At the moment of decision-making, councillors could align with either front rather than navigating a myriad of different identities. The temporary closure at the level of meanings and identities set a boundary within a particular political discourse, determining whose voice was heard or marginalized, helping to detect ‘those affected by a plan’. Indeed, the impacts of a plan may be complex, not immediately visible (Falleth et al., 2010: 744–745) or spatially traceable.

Interplay of two operational levels in planning democracy

The example above may, at first, seem to describe only a tactical move in everyday politics to reject the museum initiative. However, a deeper analysis reveals that the final decision was preceded by the opening and closing political space at the level of meanings and identities. The everyday struggle triggered a hegemonic struggle and a specific logic to pursue systemic change, namely the logic of populism. This had significant consequences for everyday politics and planning, as discussed. This section generalizes the case into a planning-theoretical framework that integrates insights from CPT and agonistic planning, enriched with Laclau’s account, and clarifies the operational levels in planning.

As illustrated here, the struggle in planning occurs both at the ontic level of everyday politics and at the ontological level of meanings and identities. Confusion results from mixing these levels in academic discussion, as argued, e.g., by Roskamm (2015). Attempts to bring agonistic struggle into everyday politics, and to retain the disagreement and openness there, can lead to an impasse. On the other hand, in everyday politics, obstinate avoidance of consensus simply does not make sense; politics is not only about controversy but also about compromises and the search for a common interest (Eranti and Meriluoto, 2023), no matter how controversial the concept.

The overemphasis of disagreement is understandable in agonistic planning given that ‘closure’ is problematic within post-structuralism and post-foundationalist political thought (Marchart, 2007). Agonistic pluralism, rooted in these traditions, reflects scepticism towards closure, rejecting fixed foundations and final resolutions (Marchart, 2007). Yet, it also encompasses the possibility of closure in the form of certain limits – limits upon which any ethico-political order depends, and which exclude certain practices, beliefs, and values (Howarth, 2008: 178). The concept of hegemony is central to illustrating this. While post-structuralism agitates against total closure of an order (Marchart, 2004: 66–67), the concept of hegemony introduces closure as a necessary but unattainable ‘horizon’. Not striving for hegemony implies a lack of politics – a match-fixing game. Critchley and Marchart (2004: 5) argue that hegemony, complementing deconstruction, makes a decisive transition from post-structuralism to post-foundationalism. They state: “If the deconstructive operation consists in laying open the moment of ultimate undecidability inherent to any structure, hegemony provides us with a theory of the decision taken on such undecidable terrain” (Critchley and Marchart, 2004: 5). While agonistic planning theory ties democratic legitimacy to the possibility of challenging the existing order (Bond, 2011), challenge alone is insufficient; legitimating struggle does not ensure change. Establishing a new hegemony and reconfiguring the social order are just as essential yet often overlooked in planning theory. When agonistic planning evades decision-making by endlessly embracing disagreement, policy stabilization cannot occur (Mäntysalo et al., 2023).

According to Norval (2004), this problem derives from post-structuralism, where the need to institutionalize democratic arrangements is hardly considered. Passing on the emphasis on disagreement from the ontological to the ontic level (Norval, 2004) results in an undesired conflation of the two levels – a major flaw in Mouffe’s agonism, as noted by Roskamm (2015). Roskamm (2015: 397–398) criticizes the entire concept of agonism for assuming that antagonism theory can be imported into the realm of politics, arguing that the shift from the ontological level of the ‘political’ to the ontic level of ‘politics’ dilutes antagonism. While agreeing with this critique, this paper retains the agonistic framework, highlighting its potential in initiating systemic change.

Examining agonism at different levels (see further Tiensuu, 2019) helps clarify the roles of CPT and agonism in urban planning, revealing blind spots in the academic debate that often pits these theories against each other. These blind spots arise from each theory interpreting the other from its own operational level, leading to the (mis)conclusion that the other theory is flawed. However, each theory can be aligned with a specific level: CPT with the ontic level of everyday politics, and agonistic planning theory with the ontological level of meanings and identities (see Mäntysalo et al., 2023). Their distinct focuses guide their application across different planning stages.

The planning-theoretical approach outlined here highlights a cyclical pattern; politically articulated unity emerges from certain needs and dissolves once its function ends, beginning anew with each planning project. This reflects Laclau’s idea of a pendulum-like movement where meanings are continually renegotiated, allowing them to float before being partially fixed, thereby producing social positioning (Laclau and Mouffe, 1985: 188; Laclau, 2005b: 38–43; Palonen, 2020: 174). Following the logic of populism, this approach emphasizes the interplay between opening-up and closing-down in planning. It distinguishes two operational levels in planning: the ontic level of everyday politics and the ontological level of meanings and identities which at times influence and modify each other. Everyday struggles can trigger hegemonic struggles over meanings and identities, where unity remains dissensual, as ‘the people’ is discursively constructed amidst diversity and difference. Laclau’s insistence that the smallest unit of identification must be social demands allows solidarity across diverse backgrounds, ensuring that unity is not based on a predefined group that might already exclude some (Laclau, 2005a: 72–73, see also Palonen, 2018: 235).

Illusory unity and the resulting simplification of the discursive field enable reflexive decision-making with a clearer understanding of whom it benefits and whom it disadvantages. This is crucial, as planning decisions at the everyday politics’ level should primarily be conceived as permanent rather than temporary (cf. Pløger, 2017: 265, 273, citing Healey).

Democratic legitimacy does not require addressing every individual demand – aligning with either front may suffice. Addressing each particularistic demand separately might prevent any of them from achieving a position strong enough to challenge the existing order. Laclau warns against the institutionalist discourse, where “all differences are considered equally valid within a wider totality” (Laclau, 2005a: 81). Embracing difference and diversity indefinitely can thus become a deceitful practice, enabling the governing body to ‘manage’ heterogeneous demands away, one by one, through techno-managerial governance that channels participation to pacify rather than politicize them (Haughton et al., 2016: 479). This prevents disparate grievances from forming a populist chain of equivalence – ironically, often in the name of equality and diversity. Populist logic, however, resists this fragmentation.

Yet, to sustain the continuity of democratic struggle, decisions cannot always simply follow the newly established hegemony, as doing so might sometimes risk foreclosing political contestation. Reflexivity should therefore go beyond short-sighted responsiveness and ensure transparency about who benefits from decisions and who is disadvantaged. Systemic change requires both initiating transformation and critically engaging with its consequences. It requires openings while also making necessary closures.

Conclusion

Critically oriented planning theory may fail to explain the pursuit of systemic change if it inadequately addresses the conditions and dynamics that both enable its initiation and ensure its consolidation. While CPT addresses decision-making, it falls short in effecting systemic change, as it tends to focus primarily on problems within an established order. Conversely, agonistic planning theory embraces difference to initiate systemic change but overlooks how such change should manifest in planning practice and decision-making. This limitation may stem from laying the groundwork for agonistic planning in the early 2000s without a broader post-foundationalist perspective and the concept of hegemony. With hegemony, the completion of deconstruction can be explained, and the overemphasized role of opening can be balanced with closure, ultimately enabling conscious and reflexive decision-making.

Furthermore, CPT and agonistic planning theory critique each other in ways that overlook their respective strengths. Each interprets the other through its own operational lens, leading to blind spots. While this critique helps identify their weaknesses, it also clarifies their distinct roles. Arguably, CPT’s task is not to expose and correct structural inequalities but to facilitate interaction among the already identified actors and groups. This paper suggests that CPT enhances planning democracy by guiding the interaction among those affected by the plan, once they have entered the process. It is only reasonable to strive to get along and aim to reach a “consensus of those involved” through rational argumentation (Kanninen, 2017: 149) to facilitate decision-making at the ontic level of everyday politics.

However, since CPT does not focus on creating opportunities for new meanings and identities, antagonism theory is needed. Confrontation plays a pivotal part, allowing new political subjects to emerge by challenging the existing order. However, pushing agonistic disagreement to the level of everyday politics is a mistake, as structural domination and mechanisms of exclusion are systemic issues that cannot be counterbalanced at the situational level (Mäntysalo et al., 2023: 8). Therefore, this paper suggests that agonistic planning theory, enriched with Laclau’s populism theory, can enhance democratic planning by providing instruments for emancipation and political mobilization, thereby facilitating those affected by the plan to enter the process. This requires reaching beyond the existing order; hence, agonism belongs to the ontological level of meanings and identities.

Drawing on the empirical case of the Guggenheim Museum initiative and Laclau’s populism theory (Laclau, 2005a, 2005b), the paper stresses the interplay between these levels: a dispute in everyday decision-making can ignite a dispute over meanings and identities, potentially leading to a reconfiguration of the order in which such decisions are made. Thus, an appropriate decision-making situation can be achieved while pursuing systemic change, through the emergence of a collective will. Laclau’s work offers insights into the discursive construction of such collective will amidst diversity and difference, challenging the status quo to achieve systemic change. This goes beyond mere recognition of new groups, to the formation of a political front: a new collective actor capable of action.

The unity described here can be characterized as ‘dissensual unity’6 or ‘illusory unity’. Although it does not represent the entire ‘people’, the language of populist discourse is not a cognitive failure (Laclau, 2005a: 118), nor is the illusion of a unitary ‘will of the people’ a flaw (cf. Hillier, 2003b; Sager, 2020), but rather a necessity. To avoid the risk of totalitarianism and to enable ongoing contestation, perfect unity must remain a horizon: something to be pursued but never fully attained – an impossible yet necessary object (Marchart, 2004: 66). As Laclau and Mouffe (1985: 166) put it, “the moment of totality ceases to be a horizon, it becomes a foundation“ (italics in original).

It must be noted that unity, when tendentious and politically motivated, can be problematic, particularly if it undermines objectivity, exacerbates polarization, and degrades deliberation – issues well documented in populism critiques. While some nuances in diversity may be lost, political motives are crucial for unifying fragmented anti-oppression efforts. Both overemphasizing closure and overemphasizing openness risk marginalizing groups, though the former often goes unnoticed in planning theory. Openness is essential for emancipation, but caution is needed, as “conflict can also result in the further oppression of some populations” (Legacy et al., 2019: 274). Meaningful inclusion of ‘those affected’ lies in balancing individual and collective interests, rational argumentation with emancipatory action, while safeguarding minority rights. Recognizing when planning operates at the level of everyday politics versus identities and meanings helps determine whether to pursue rational consensus among readily identifiable actors or allow emancipatory confrontation to generate new agencies for the common negotiation table. Lastly, understanding the logic and origins of populism helps resist dangerous ideologies when populist logic is used to promote them.