I have written the following for ACCESS in memory of Mel Webber, but
thought those of you who might not see ACCESS would like to see it
--Jonathan!



Perhaps death is not a wicked problem, for there is only one inevitable
destination at the end of the road. Perhaps this is why Mel sent a number
of us a cryptic last message, emailed after his death. "Goodbye," he said,
with finality. And that was all he said. An end without doubt. A
conclusion without the complex and confounding series of choices that
characterize wicked problems. An end to the thought, writing and speech
associated with one of the few truly great minds of planning over the
last half century.

I first encountered Mel during a brief stay at Berkeley. I had left MIT
with a trail of debt and unwisely registered for a PhD at Berkeley with
only partial financial aid. Rather than worry about the unpaid rent at
International House that now embelished the five months of unpaid dorm
rent I had left at MIT, I became utterly absorbed in the two most
astonishing courses I have taken anywhere. One was taught by C. West
Churchman, the other by Mel Webber (very ably assisted by Karen
Christensen).

The courses had similar themes, but a difference in emphasis. Both West
and Mel had as central concern the human failing of turning the complex
into the simple in order to find an easy answer that rarely proves to be
an effective solution. Both of these deepest of thinkers called on their
students to identify and question their assumptions in order to avoid the
pitfalls of so much planning. But, while West led us to encounter the
great philosophers as a way to lay bare the inadequacies of our own
thought, Mel was more practical, and gave hope that there was in fact a
path to better planning, one that we could all embrace.

Much of what is called "planning theory" is deadly boring, with too many
courses in the subject a sort of fraternity initiation ritual students are
made to undergo before they can become certified planners and then forget
everything they have read.

Mel's unforgettable course could not have been more different. To start
with the examples - about real transportation systems, real cities, and
real people - were lifelike and demanded attention. The theoretical
readings, though voluminous, were carefully selected and came to life
through the questions Mel led us to explore in class. And the most
profound message that Mel gave us was that there was a way to confront
those things we found complex. Simple analyses, such of the demand for a
transport system, may prove inadequate without consideration of social,
environmental and larger urban contexts, but Mel did not tell us not to
conduct such studies. Indeed, as we learned, a good deal of Mel's own
work in transportation made effective use of conventional tools of
economic data analysis, but used the findings as a starting point for
asking deeper questions, which could then lead to a rearticulation of the
original analysis.

Mel's teaching always had a great clarity which drew in his students.
Indeed, the concept of "wicked problems," which he developed with Horst
Rittel, was explained by him with such immediacy that it was readily
understood and became a larger-than-life phenomenon nobody in the class
could let themselves forget whenever a planning or other social problem
presented itself in other classes and, later, in professional life.

Wicked problems have no one solution, have no ending point. They are
messy, and often the obvious problem we first encounter requires other
problems to be confronted to give any chance of progress. So is traffic
congestion about providing more roads? Or allowing less cars on the roads
we have? About providing public transport - what sort of public transport?
About changing our work patterns and the geography of our cities? About
changing out very concept of place - Mel introduced us to the "non-place
urban realm" - and with it out notions of community (now to be "without
propinquity") and the sorts of travel implied (do existing concepts of
public transport work at all?)

And so the choices go on, and it becomes clear that wicked problems can
lead to endless other problem formulations, strategies, and surprising
outcomes which then generate new wicked problems.

Mel found a way to teach his students such things without heaviness. We
left his classes feeling empowered and uplifted. The complexity he led us
to confront may have been "wicked," but the concepts Mel taught us were
vivid and compelling. And the message from Mel's course was that there
are ways to tackle complexity and become better planners, and that we
would all be better planners if only we would open up our minds, become
aware of the choices to be made, and act in the light of a wisdom Mel had
given us the power to produce even at our young age.

Powerful stuff.

We certainly did not have to attempt to attack all elements of complexity
-- we would doubtless go crazy if we attempted to do so -- but if we
could recognize and act on at least a part of that mess we would do good
work. Despite the "wickedness" of problems, we could come up with
solutions. They might not be the only possible solutions, or optimal
(there is no such thing as an "optimal" solution to a social problem in
any case), but they would provide good paths forward which could
contribute to the growth and wellbeing of cities.

Mel was an excellent writer. He expected high standards from his students'
written work, and had no hesitation in identifying defects and prescribing
remedies. His demands for clear thinking permeated all areas of his work,
and are in evidence in this very issue of ACCESS. For, if my original
words have shown any sign of lapse, you can be sure an editor will have
cleaned them up before they meet your eyes. Too many academics write
poorly, but Mel insisted that all writing is a form of communication and
must grip the reader as his teaching did his students.

Perhaps death is a wicked problem after all, at least when we face how to
confront the legacy of a magnificent human being. Death may have a
physical finality, but we have choices on how to honor and learn from a
life well-lived. Do we continue work that was in progress? Do we use the
ideas as a basis for our own future thinking? How are those ideas to be
understood in a variety of contexts? How must those very ideas change as
transportation systems, cities, communities metamorphose over time?

Ideas can live on and are perhaps our only way to immortality. Mel's ideas
were powerful as well as humane, demanding generosity of spirit and
leading to paths of constructive change. If we can incorporate at least
some of Mel's principles in our own, the result can be anything but
wicked.


-----
Jonathan Richmond
Visiting Professor
Logistique, Transport et Tourisme
Conservatoire National des Arts et Metiers
5 rue du Vertbois
75141 Paris Cedex 03
France

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