Governance Matters: You served as Copenhagen’s City Architect for five years, a position established in 1886. What does the role involve?

Camilla van Deurs: The role involves advising the Lord Mayor and the Mayor for Technical and Environmental Affairs, on how to bridge Copenhagen’s political ambitions and planning practice. That was the most important part of the job: translating political goals into planning tools.

The other major part is advising on all municipal projects. I was on juries for competitions, local area plans, public infrastructure projects, and was responsible for setting the tone for architectural language and design vocabulary. All new technologies – from electric vehicle chargers to climate adaptations to Internet of Things devices – land in public space, so they have to fit the city’s design DNA.

The third part was outward-facing: communicating the politicians’ shared vision to the public, private practitioners, and investors, and explaining where the city wants to go. An example could be wanting to build to a Copenhagen scale, meaning about five storeys, with roofs designed for climate adaptation and a lively base with shops or achieving a minimum of 25% affordable housing in all new developments.

When projects came in for local planning permits, we could point back to that agreement: so a proposal with eight or 13 storeys did not fit. That was the job: talking about the aspirations, the tone, and the aesthetic, linking them to the politicians, and translating what they wanted, sometimes even putting it into legislation in a way that could be directly expressed through architecture.

Having data – whether that is on successful projects, economic turnover, population growth, or traffic patterns – anchors intangible policy decisions in measurable results.

‍

Governments operate on election cycles, and their decisions, budgets, and priorities are often shaped by what can be achieved before the next vote. In contrast, major infrastructure and development projects can take decades to plan, fund, and complete. As an urban planner, how do you keep long-term projects on track when political leadership and priorities change every few years?

Clear political direction and consistency. Without that, you create uncertainty for investors and for municipal staff, who end up reprioritising instead of delivering projects. You need a shared political understanding of where the city is going – ten years, or even 30 years ahead. The direction can evolve, but it should not swing wildly from one year to the next.

An example from Copenhagen is our approach to bicycle planning. The city has about 450 kilometres of bike lanes, built over 50 years. It has always been the ambition to have a widespread network, and each year, during the budget process, politicians review the system and add budgets for new lanes based on the thorough analysis and recommendations made by the municipal staff. That gives a clear indication of the city’s values and where it wants to go.

Paris is another example. They are moving at a rapid pace in implementing bike lanes because they have a similar approach and political will. Whether the speed is slow or fast really depends on that will.

Other cities have been less consistent. Barcelona had been a model urban design city with its Superblocks – groups of streets closed to through-traffic and redesigned for walking and cycling – which were in my view extremely successful. However, the new administration has rolled back the policy. That wastes taxpayer money, not only on the physical cost of ripping out infrastructure but also in creating uncertainty for private investors, property owners, and municipal staff.

You need a shared political understanding of where the city is going – ten years, or even 30 years ahead. The direction can evolve, but it should not swing wildly from one year to the next.

Barcelona’s reversal, I suspect, reflects both a strongly divided two-party system and limited public engagement. In contrast, Paris has been very good at monitoring and surveying public opinion, and Copenhagen always does the same. This reassures politicians that the decisions they are making are well accepted and gives them the courage to keep going and take difficult decisions.

Nothing scares a politician more than thinking they might not be re-elected. Having data – whether that is on successful projects, economic turnover, population growth, or traffic patterns – anchors intangible policy decisions in measurable results and reassures politicians that they are on solid ground.

‍

Urban planning often involves decisions about beauty, liveability, and character, which are hard to measure. What role can data play in helping planners define those qualities and communicate them to decision-makers and the public?

I have a background working with Jan Gehl (the world-renowned Danish architect and urban designer), and his mindset is: you count what you value. If you value people, you count people. If you value trees, you count trees. If you value cars, you count cars.

Having data as an architect – whether that is gross floor area, density ratios, or tree coverage – gives us something tangible beyond aesthetics. Often the criticism of a city architect is that you are a judge of good taste, which has negative connotations because taste is seen as subjective, not professionally qualified.

By having numbers, you are qualifying taste into communicable data. But being an architect is not about personal aesthetic taste. It is like being a sommelier for wine. The sommelier knows about terroir, soil conditions, wind, climate, all the factors that make great wine. That is data. Then they present that to the customer choosing wine. In my case, that is the politician deciding on projects.

Beauty is important, but it is so intangible you cannot describe it. You can sense it when a place is truly great. To qualify that sense into legislation you often need a formula – somewhere might be beautiful because there is a golden ratio, or many trees, or the building has a base that does not land directly on the street. This vocabulary helps us vocalise what beauty is and create the legislative framework that supports beautiful urban design.

Having data as an architect – whether that is gross floor area, density ratios, or tree coverage – gives us something tangible beyond aesthetics.

‍

Copenhagen is widely recognised as one of the global leaders in reducing urban carbon emissions. For other cities looking to make similar progress, what do you think Copenhagen has done particularly well?

The energy sector transformation was Copenhagen’s biggest achievement. We reduced carbon emissions by 72% between 2005 and 2021 by implementing central district heating.¹ This also meant Copenhagen was not dependent on Russian gas and oil after the outbreak of the war in Ukraine.

Practically, it is about communicating political determination. If carbon reduction is the goal, every single city project has to contribute to that goal. We spent time providing climate education for urban planners, traffic engineers, and public space professionals to understand where they can make
a difference.

About a third of Copenhagen’s remaining carbon emissions come from energy use in buildings and building construction and materials, a third from traffic, and a third from residents’ private spending on things like clothes, travel, and food. Two-thirds of those remaining emissions can be reduced through urban development, and perhaps some of the private-spending emissions can be addressed through encouraging local shopping and improving waste management. We have an enormous responsibility and potential as urban planners in making climate-smart design solutions.

‍

What would you advise other cities trying to reduce carbon emissions?  

Think about it holistically. Reducing carbon is not only about the building industry or only about traffic. It is a full circle throughout the whole administrative system – the people administering nursing homes, schools, everything. If you take it to that level, it has transformative power.

For Copenhagen, starting with energy and public investments, then using that in urban planning worked well. Every time we did a competition or new plan for a neighbourhood, we asked: what are the new challenges we need to test?

Take the approach systematically through your urban planning, traffic engineering, and public space teams. Help them understand where they can find savings, where they can reuse materials, where they can work around existing features. Having that hierarchy and understanding the numbers is extremely important.

‍

Copenhagen is committed to becoming carbon-neutral, and incorporated that goal into urban planning decisions about cycling networks, district heating systems, building standards, and the design of green public spaces. How has having that focus shaped the city’s planning decisions?

In Copenhagen, there has been increasing focus on cardon dioxide and climate targets, and every project is measured against that. Initially in the 1990s, that was about more bicycles, implementing central district heating, building windmills, all of which were very large-scale investments. In latter years, it has been project by project: what can we do here? How can we recycle everything from household waste in kindergartens to existing buildings?

That dialogue is extremely alive in the city. All seven political parties in our municipal parliament use climate numbers and tease each other or measure each other against who has delivered more or better climate numbers. When that is the political currency, that is fantastic because it drives really good decisions.

But you have to think holistically. Sometimes being only focused on climate numbers will create terrible urban planning. For example, our metro company has its own climate targets and, to meet those, it proposed building sections above ground to use less concrete. In isolation, that is good for their numbers, but in urban planning terms, it would divide neighbourhoods for the next 100 to 200 years.

You have to think holistically. Sometimes being only focused on climate numbers will create terrible urban planning.

‍

Major urban projects can succeed or fail based not just on technical quality, but on whether residents and stakeholders embrace them over the long term. Cities worldwide have experimented with everything from tactical urbanism to embedded neighbourhood programmes to win that support. In your own work, what has proven most effective for building lasting public engagement?

We have seen a surge in pilot projects globally over the past 20 years. Temporary projects, temporary activation, painting on streets. It is a really easy way of showing people what you want to do. You can test an idea quickly, and if it works, it builds public and political confidence. That approach is now widely recognised as part of the urban-planning toolbox. Copenhagen has used the method many times. In one instance to qualify the political decision of removing 750 parking spaces in the historic city core, and replacing the spaces with more trees, spaces for deliveries and for outdoor serving. In this case testing the project through temporary interventions was a crucial element in creating public debate and garnering support for the project.

Another example in Copenhagen is our urban renewal programme, which runs for five years in areas that need upgrading – often neighbourhoods with social challenges that cannot be addressed by physical interventions alone. You have to work with local schools, police, social workers, and others. We always set up a local, on-site office, and have five to ten colleagues based in the neighbourhood, working with kids, being in the schools, attending events and fairs.

At any given moment, Copenhagen usually has about five of these redevelopment projects underway. I could not be there every day, but I made a point of being involved, because you learn so much from actually being there – far more than you ever could analysing it from a municipal office. That kind of on-the-ground presence, embedded in the community, is key to understanding and engagement.

‍

In many cities, the private sector plays a central role in planning and delivering residential and commercial developments. Based on your experience in both public and private practice, what factors make collaboration between government and business work most effectively?

Speaking from both sides of the table, predictability is the most important value. The investments are so large, and if you need private investment to be part of co-creating the city – in Copenhagen, the city only owns about 20% of the land – you are completely dependent on private investments to contribute to reducing urban heat island effects, or using bio-materials, for example. So, you need to communicate the ambitions and stick to them, and you need to be transparent and fair across projects.

If you are not putting the same demands on everyone – if suddenly one developer can build very high or get away with not having affordable housing integrated – it creates distrust from other investors.

I think that is why Copenhagen has seen quite a lot of international capital investment, because the development has been transparent and directional, and that gives monetary security. We want people to help co-invest in our city. In many Western societies, the municipality does not build everything itself. We need private funds to come in.

‍

Are there any specific institutional design elements in Copenhagen’s structure that help embed that predictability?

Back in 2019, we had the opportunity through national legislation to demand 25% minimum affordable housing in every new project. The politicians stuck to that. There were details – it had to be about 3,000 square meters developed, and if you were building in a neighbourhood with more than 30% social housing already, you did not have to comply. But generally, all developers had the same financial constraints and knew that was the precondition for building in the city.

Also, being really clear about requirements is critical. There has been a political decision that we cannot build high-rise in the inner city. My predecessor, Tina Saaby, defined what high-rise means – above 13 storeys, about 40 meters. And if you build over 40 meters, it has to be a one-to-four dimension ratio.

That was extremely important because when I arrived, all the politicians, architects, and developers knew these rules. The problem is, if you waver even once, you have opened the floodgates. Those numbers are not pulled out of the air. They are based on careful case study and analysis by talented colleagues, looking globally at best practices and what is right for our context and climate.

‍

Urban planning decisions often involve multiple stakeholders, competing priorities, and long timelines. What kinds of formal structures and processes have you found most effective for managing consultation and reaching decisions in that environment?

An example is when we were removing all surface parking from the historic medieval city core – 750 parking spaces – and relocating them to existing parking structures. What do you do with that space? More bicycle parking? More trees? More space for outdoor dining? Recycling centres? All of those uses are good for reducing your carbon footprint. Ultimately, that is a political decision, but that is why architecture and urban planning is such a fascinating field. You are making qualified decisions all the time, calibrating what should be done for the greater whole.

You never work through those decisions alone. Urban design is never a one-person job, it is always a team effort. We always had huge meetings where everyone got a chance to present their analysis and data. Based on that, people listened professionally to each other and made compromises. Having many voices around the table is crucial.

Obviously proper project management – having timelines and knowing what internal resources to pull in at the right times – is essential. But there are informal ways too. Most cities have annual building awards, and in Copenhagen that covers buildings, landscape, public spaces, and urban districts. I used that to bring in different employees for panel discussions about what worked, what did not, what great architecture in our city should consist of.

We held network meetings once a week with heads of planning where all new local area plans were presented. There was always employee representation. About 650 architects are employed in the city, and their job was to go back and talk to colleagues about what was discussed, whether it was adding skylights to historic buildings or new knowledge about tree hole sizes.

A lot of meetings, a lot of coffee, a lot of knowledge-sharing – but unless you have formalised structures for that, like weekly or monthly design reviews, it is really difficult, particularly when you are one person.

‍

Finally, if a city planner from another mid-sized city wanted to become more like Copenhagen, what advice would you give them?

I would say: Never become more like Copenhagen. Become the best version of your own city. You have to understand your context, your landscape. But we can definitely be inspired by each other. Take for example, C40 Cities, a network of mayors around the world working to address climate change. With networks like these, we see trends and ideas – temporary projects such as Barcelona’s superblocks – spread and gather speed.

Copenhagen has been slowly implementing bike lanes over 50 years, Paris moved at a rapid pace. Many smaller cities do the same. So, take what is good from Copenhagen, but adapt it to your own space, context, your own cultural and architectural heritage.