- From organic origins to managed complexity
Cities rarely begin with plans. Most evolve organically over time, shaped by settlement, trade, and everyday life, long before formal planning frameworks emerge. Only in specific cases — such as planned Towns like the Letchworth Garden City in England or Capitals like Canberra in Australia and Brasília in Brazil — are Cities conceived with a clear blueprint from the outset. For the majority, plans come later, introducing structured visions supported by regulations and development controls to guide growth in a more orderly and equitable way. In this sense, cities are often seen as the product of deliberate choices, reflecting governance, priorities, and institutional intent. Yet, cities never remain confined to these plans. Over time, they are reshaped through layers of adaptation, negotiation, and complexity — driven as much by what is allowed, overlooked, or contested as by what is formally designed.
In other words, in the short, medium, and long term, the city is constantly reshaped through numerous decisions, some deliberate, others delayed, avoided, or simply overlooked. What remains unchallenged, unquestioned, or neglected also gradually becomes part of the urban fabric. Streets weaken not overnight but through repeated tolerance of neglect. Poor development outcomes persist not only because of weak systems but also because they go unchecked. In this way, the lack of action becomes a form of action itself.
Cities, therefore, are not shaped solely by plans. They are equally shaped by the attitudes and behaviours of their people — by whether citizens choose to engage or withdraw, to question or to accept, to take ownership or to remain indifferent. Planning frameworks may set the direction, but, the societal response ultimately determines whether that direction is realised, diluted, or distorted.
In Sri Lanka, alongside well-recognised institutional weaknesses, there exists a quieter but equally powerful force shaping our urban landscape: a deeply embedded culture of indifference. It is subtle, often unnoticed, yet persistently expressed in what we overlook, tolerate, and accept as normal. Over time, this culture has become part of how our cities operate, influencing outcomes just as strongly as policies, plans, and regulations.
The culture of looking away
For many, the built environment remains something to be used or endured rather than actively shaped. It stays distant from everyday concern, as if it were the responsibility of others — authorities, professionals, or circumstances. Over time, this quiet detachment fosters a deeper complacency. Streets, neighbourhoods, and public spaces start to feel as though they belong to no one in particular, and gradually, they are treated that way.
The evidence is easy to see. We pass through the same place’s day after day over weeks, months, even a lifetime, yet hardly notice what is there, what is missing, or whether our experience is okay. Familiarity dulls our awareness. What should prompt reflection instead becomes part of the background.
We often notice the same signs of neglect, broken pavements, encroachments, and unmanaged waste so frequently that they stop standing out. Over time, what is unacceptable simply becomes normal. This normalisation is not accidental; it is learned, internalised, and quietly passed down through generations. In many ways, it is also maintained by the very systems that we oppose — systems that respond weakly to public pressure because that pressure is often inconsistent, unfocused, or brief.
As a society, we risk becoming trapped in a self-perpetuating cycle. We call for change, yet rarely specify what that change should involve. We express dissatisfaction but hesitate to ask probing questions or engage in meaningful ways. Without clarity, awareness, and collective intent, even the desire for change becomes weakened.
This illustrates how a bystander culture establishes itself. We observe instead of participating, adapt instead of challenging, and accept instead of leading.
A divided urban reality
This culture of looking away does not play out evenly across the city. It produces, and is reinforced by a growing divide between curated spaces of prosperity and the lived realities of the majority.
There are parts of the city that project order, comfort, and aspiration, carefully designed environments that signal progress and modernity. These are the places most often showcased, discussed, and celebrated. But, beyond these enclaves lies a very different urban experience — one encountered at the eye level. It is in overcrowded buses, broken footpaths, informal settlements, encroached public spaces, and struggling neighbourhoods that the true condition of the city is revealed.
Yet, these lived realities rarely find their way into the mainstream urban discourse. Instead, much of the public and institutional conversation — including that led by the Government — remains preoccupied with investment flows, profitability, large-scale development, and the optics of urban “competitiveness” and beautification. Planning is too often framed in terms of what can be built, how much capital can be attracted, and how the city can be positioned in global rankings, rather than how it actually performs for its residents in everyday life.
Even within professional and academic spaces — institutes, universities, conferences, and policy forums — the emphasis tends to mirror these priorities. Far less attention is given to the conditions that define the lived experience of the majority: the working environments of essential service workers, the social and environmental consequences of poorly conceived high-rise housing, the issues of food safety and access, and the spatial inequalities that shape health and well-being across the city.
What emerges is a skewed perspective of urban success — one that looks upward to skylines and symbols of growth, while overlooking what exists at the eye level. The everyday realities of key workers — nurses, sanitation workers, Police officers, service staff — remain largely invisible in planning conversations, despite their central role in sustaining urban life. A planning system that fails to account for these conditions risks producing cities that may appear prosperous, but fall short in delivering equity, dignity, and liveability for those who keep them functioning.
Even within professional circles — conferences, presentations, and industry forums — the narrative is frequently shaped by those operating at the upper end of the economic spectrum. Discussions are framed around growth, opportunity, and positioning, often reflecting the perspectives of those who experience the city from air-conditioned offices, private vehicles, and relatively privileged urban settings. The concerns of the majority — those navigating public transport, informal work, insecure housing, and daily urban inconveniences — rarely receive the same attention or urgency.
This disconnect between narrative and reality is not simply an oversight; it reflects whose voices are heard and whose experiences are prioritised. When the conversation is dominated by visibility, image, and economic signalling, the everyday functioning of the city becomes secondary.
A city cannot be judged only by what rises above it. It must be assessed by how it functions at the street level — in ordinary spaces and in the everyday rhythms of life that shape the true quality of urban living.
The vacuum that we create
When citizens disengage, a vacuum inevitably forms — one where an informed public voice, civic responsibility, and constructive critique should exist. Into that space step politicians and bureaucracies, often making decisions without the benefit of consistent, grounded, and critically engaged societal input. Without a strong civic presence, governance becomes narrower, less responsive, and more prone to drift.
But, cities are never accidental. They are the cumulative result of collective choices — both active and passive. When we withdraw, we do not simply step back; we default to letting decisions be shaped by a limited set of actors and interests. What emerges then, is not necessarily what society needs, but what the system produces in the absence of meaningful engagement.
Planning, in this context, cannot be reduced to a purely technical or regulatory task. It is the framework that organises daily life — how we live, move, interact, and maintain dignity in our surroundings. For planning to serve this purpose, it must actively promote participation. It needs to establish pathways for people to be heard, to question, and to help shape their environments.
This raises an important question: do we actually have a planning system that encourages such participation? Or, have we created one that functions from a distance, is procedural, opaque, and mostly inaccessible to the people it is meant to serve?
Beyond blame: Recognising our role
This vacuum also reveals a deeper discomfort. It is easy to blame urban failures solely on the Government. However, that explanation, while convenient, is incomplete. The system that we criticise is not separate from us — we are part of it.
When we fail to participate, we allow space that is quickly taken by others: political actors, bureaucratic interests, and increasingly, powerful development agendas driven by their own priorities. These actors will always have a role. The real question is whether the broader public also has one — and currently, beyond rhetoric, that space remains limited, fragmented, and often lacking substance.
Across the Government, the private sector, and civil society, we all contribute — knowingly or unknowingly — to maintaining this condition. A shared narrative around urban governance, especially one grounded in equity and public interest, remains fragile. Without it, individual interests tend to prevail, and collective purpose diminishes.
Part of the problem is our own hesitation. We often shy away from questioning the system too deeply, worried about disturbing what we have managed to secure for ourselves. Over time, this has created a culture where compliance replaces critique, and caution takes precedence over responsibility. The outcome is a system that sustains itself — more through inertia than intention.
This condition is not unavoidable, but, it is deeply rooted. Recognising it is the first step. Understanding our role in it is the next. Only then can we begin to develop the ability — individually and collectively — to break this self-perpetuating cycle and shape the system towards a more accountable and inclusive urban future.
Reclaiming the purpose of planning
If we admit that we are part of the problem, we must also recognise that we can be part of the solution. That starts with reclaiming the true purpose of planning.
At its core, what our communities need is not complicated: a planning system that allows growth while protecting what is important. One that provides housing that is not only affordable but also liveable, supports economic activity and jobs, and safeguards environmental assets for future generations. A system that balances development with dignity, efficiency with fairness, and ambition with responsibility.
Yet, the promise of planning is too often lost in practice. Institutional fragmentation, weak coordination across agencies, and a profession that struggles with clarity and confidence have diminished what should be a strategic tool into a mainly procedural one. Instead of setting direction and shaping outcomes, the system frequently reacts to pressures as they emerge — negotiating, adjusting, and accommodating rather than guiding with purpose.
In such a context, planning risks becoming less about vision and more about process; less about public purpose and more about administrative compliance. Decisions are made incrementally, often without a coherent framework, allowing short-term considerations to outweigh long-term priorities.
The result is a self-perpetuating cycle: low expectations lead to poor outcomes, which then reduce expectations further. Over time, this undermines both public trust and professional integrity.
Breaking this cycle requires more than just reforming regulations or procedures. It involves restoring planning to its proper role — as a forward-looking, place-based, and people-centred practice that shapes cities not merely for growth but also for the collective well-being of those who live in them.
A necessary shift
If planning is to be recognised as a meaningful public tool, then reform must go beyond systems, policies, or regulations. What is needed is a deeper shift, one that moves from indifference to ownership, from fragmentation to coordination, and from short-term responses to long-term stewardship.
Such a shift is not just institutional; it is cultural. It calls for a reorientation in how we see our role in the city — not as passive recipients of decisions, but as active participants in shaping those decisions. It requires institutions to open up, but equally, it requires citizens to step forward with clarity, consistency, and a willingness to engage.
This week’s column marks the beginning of a series that seeks to unpack this culture and challenge some of the assumptions that have quietly shaped our urban trajectory. It will explore how a more place-based, people-centred approach to planning can offer a pathway forward — one that is grounded not only in technical competence, but in social awareness, shared responsibility, and a clearer sense of purpose.
Because, in the end, building better cities is not the responsibility of institutions alone. It is a collective effort — one that requires both leadership and participation, vision and vigilance, from all of us.
The city that we choose to be
In the end, the city that we build is not an accident of policy or a by-product of development — it is a direct reflection of who we are, what we tolerate, and what we are willing to demand.
If indifference has shaped the city that we see today — its neglect, its inequalities, its quiet compromises — then, it will continue to shape the city of tomorrow unless something fundamentally changes. Plans alone will not save us. Regulations alone will not set us right. Without awareness, engagement, and the courage to question and to act, even the best intentions will melt away into the same old outcomes.
The real question then, is not what kind of city we want, but what sort of society we are willing to become to build it. Cities do not fail on paper — they fail in practice, in silence, and in the spaces where people choose not to speak, not to care, and not to act.
And if we keep looking away, we should not be surprised by what we keep seeing.
The writer is a multidisciplinary urban planner, educator, and sustainable urbanism practitioner with over three decades of experience across Sri Lanka, Australia, the Pacific Island countries, and the UK. He is the Executive Director of the Colombo Forum
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The views and opinions expressed in this column are those of the author, and do not necessarily reflect those of this publication