ARCHAEOLOGY II: ENUNCIATIVE MODALITIES AND CONCEPTS
The second and third “cuts” of a Foucauldian archaeology through any collection of statements have unique orientations that differ significantly from tracking the discursive objects. First, in a movement that is an elaboration of the authorities of delimitation briefly mentioned in the previous chapter, one must describe the “enunciative modalities” (or “subjects” of enunciation) that bind a set of statements together. Second, an altogether new perspective is introduced that involves stepping back even farther from the discursive objects that have already been addressed and trying to understand the conditions of emergence for the concepts being constructed and applied in them. This chapter steps through both of these processes, which should be seen as two parallel operations to the empirical work done in the last chapter rather than a linear extension of it. Finally, as Dreyfus and Rabinow (1982) argue, this approach still downplays how social institutions put such knowledge into practice. Foucault recognized this shortcoming and his response was to retain archaeology an a way to isolate objects of discourse, but he also subsequently developed the genealogical method to “thematize the relationship between truth, theory, and values and the social institutions and practices in which they emerge” (ibid, xxv). Again, we will follow Foucault in terms of using archaeology to isolate statements, but rather than following him into the dubious throngs of genealogy, we will instead turn to the Deleuzoguattarian dynamic between the worldwide capitalist axiomatic and models of realization in the following chapter to account for how particular ensembles of statements direct and manage how urbanization unfolds.
The Coordinated City’s Discursive Formation, Continued
In addition to specifying the objects of discourse, the archaeological method describes the formation of enunciative modalities in an effort to map how the statements of any particular discursive formation under investigation are held together. The three primary questions the archaeologist must ask are: first, who is accorded the right to speak, and how? Second, what are the institutional sites in which these discursive objects are produced? Third, what possible subject positions can this subject “occupy in relation to the various domains or groups of objects”? (Foucault 2010, 52). Whereas in the Archaeology, Foucault refers to his own empirical work on nineteenth century doctors and the emergent clinical discourse (1994), I will focus on mid- to late-twentieth century and early twenty-first century politicians, activists, and professionals engaged in land development. In contradistinction to the discussion of discursive objects, this section addresses all three of these aspects without dividing them into corresponding subsections. Instead the subsections will be delineated by the three types of emergent enunciative modalities: the representative body enunciative modalities, which addresses elected groups such as the state legislature or city council, or even groups largely constituted by elected members; the citizen-government-professional enunciative modalities, which concern how citizen groups’ voices make their way into the public realm, via different sets of professionals such as urban planners; and private and semi-public enunciative modalities, which focus on private organizations and movements that distance themselves from governmental operations (at least officially). This typology is only meant to be an organizational guide rather than set of rigid categories.
Representative Body Enunciative Modalities
In the case of the Washington state legislature, or Seattle’s mayor and city council, the enunciative modality is clearly constituted by elected officials in a representative democracy. The State legislature contains members from 49 districts, each of which elects one senator and two members of congress in partisan elections, while the council has nine seats, and all municipal positions are currently populated through at-large and nonpartisan elections. Each is beholden to a particular constituency and each has a deliberative process by which a bill becomes a law, as well as a particular set of venues – such as the State capitol or Council chambers – in which each step occurs: these are the legal conditions according the right to make statements concerning how urban growth may proceed, and they bestow a particular status on these members.
Yet, the archaeological approach also emphasizes the “system of differentiation and relations…with other individuals or other groups that also possess their own status” (Foucault 2010, 50), and these other individuals and groups have their own set of characteristics defining their functional relationship to society, much as the Washington State Constitution or Seattle City Charter regulates legal power. One such group is the Puget Sound Regional Council (PSRC), the official regional planning agency of the central Puget Sound region, which is composed of “King, Kitsap, Pierce and Snohomish counties, 72 cities within the region, four port districts, the region’s transit agencies, the Washington State Department of Transportation, Washington State Transportation Commission, the Muckleshoot Indian Tribe, the Puyallup Tribe of Indians, and the Suquamish Tribe” (PSRC “About”). This intergovernmental council is interwoven into a fabric that extends upward to state and federal levels – on which it is reliant for transportation funding and on whose behalf it was established by the Governor of Washington as the central Puget Sound region’s Metropolitan Planning Organization in 1973, under the Federal-Aid Highway Act of 1962 (PSRC n.d.) – and downward to the municipalities and tribal councils. It thus occupies a particular place in the governmental hierarchy and has a specific and complementary function: to coordinate transportation planning, economic development, and growth management across central Puget Sound in accordance with “the region’s shared values” (PSRC “About”).
In all three of these cases – state-level politics, regional planning, and municipal-level politics – the status of the members is defined in a way similar to the status of Foucault’s doctors, a status which “involves certain criteria of competence and knowledge” and which is subject to “institutions, systems, [and] pedagogic norms” (Foucault 2010, 50), although the nature of the these ensembles means that they are subject to much more internal variegation. The Seattle City Council, for example, is currently made up of people with backgrounds in law, journalism, law enforcement, nonprofit social services, sociology, financial management, and economics. This raises the question of multiple systems affecting the collective “subject,” but does not diminish the importance of shared criteria and norms, which will ultimately be of the most interest for this project.
Moreover, since the City Council is the elected body with the most direct relationship to SLU a deeper engagement with its institutional sites and the various positions that it occupies in relation to its domains and objects is illuminating. The council chambers is the primary location of its activity, and hosts both individual committee and full council meetings, which are open to the public. Similar to Foucault’s doctors, these elected officials are both questioning and listening subjects, particularly during committee meetings. Regarding SLU, the Planning, Land Use and Sustainability committee meetings open with a reading of the agenda, turn to a period for public comment (two minutes maximum, per speaker), and continue as discussions between the committee members and various other city employees from the Department of Planning and Development or the Office of Economic Development, for example, as well as individuals from the private sector, such as consultants or developers. Furthermore, like Foucault’s doctors, the councilmembers are also seeing and observing subjects, often being presented with policy documents, tables, graphs, maps, and presentations by their interlocutors.
However, the councilmembers as subjects quickly diverge from Foucault’s doctors when one considers his notion of “instrumental intermediaries,” for their instruments are not technical intermediaries between their own perceptual capacities and the bodies with which they are confronted (no stethoscope, no otoscope, no x-rays). Instead, a wide range of professional knowledge and techniques mediate between the councilmembers and the world beyond: the planners with their codes and maps; the developers and consultants with their spreadsheets and PowerPoint presentations; the architects with their renderings; the engineers with their calculations. The councilmembers – and legislators in general – stand at the intersection of the perceptual situations and informational networks that Foucualt (2010, 52) describes as the unique position of doctors; functionally, the elected officials have a similar role, as relays or switches that collect and organize information that gets redistributed in the form of ordinances, resolutions, codes, and budgets.
Citizen-Government-Professional Enunciative Modalities
The birth of Metro – to which we keep returning because it serves as an example of early inter-jurisdictional coordination regarding urbanization and quality of life issues – was spearheaded by another collective subjectivity: the local chapters of the Municipal League and the League of Women Voters. The Municipal League is rooted in early twentieth century Progressivism, and envisioned itself as a nonpartisan group that appealed “to members of America’s new urban professional working class, who sought to replace corrupt, graft-ridden city governments with honest and ‘scientific’ administrations” (Historylink). The League of Women Voters is also an outgrowth of the Progressive Era and is “a nonpartisan political organization [that] encourages informed and active participation in government, [and] works to increase understanding of major public policy issues and influences public policy through education and advocacy” (League of Women Voters of Seattle – King County). The Metropolitan Council, which is the governing body of Metro, consisted of Mayors and Councilmembers from Seattle and surrounding cities, two King County commissioners, and was chaired by C. Carey Donworth, a local management consultant, represented legally by James Ellis, a local lawyer known as the “father of Metro,” and directed by Harold Miller, a civil engineer who previously directed the state’s Pollution Control Commission (Lane 1995, 2, 17). Therefore, much like the state legislature, PSRC, or City Council, it is populated by a wide range of professionals who are less connected by their training than by their organization’s legal status and mission. Somewhat differently, however, it also employed a wide range of consulting civil engineers to develop plans and programs for addressing the region’s wastewater problems.
The initial public conversation that led to the formation of Metro occurred not in the marble halls of justice, but rather at the Downtown YMCA, although it quickly moved into more official locations after Mayor Gordon Clinton appointed a Metropolitan Problems Advisory Committee with Ellis as its chair (ibid, 9). The technical details detailing the implications of dumping untreated waste into Lake Washington and Lake Union as well as plans for remediation emerged in engineering reports by Brown and Caldwell and scientific studies and speeches by University of Washington faculty, while public relations and outreach work necessary to gain voter support occurred in newspaper articles, radio and television debates, as well as the “Metro March,” in which approximately 5,000 volunteers distributed information about Metro in a door-to-door blitz on September 8, 1958, the day before the election that would be a “substantial victory” (ibid. 16). Finally, Metro set up shop in a humble two-story office building on Denny Way, where the technical staff worked alongside the executive board.
In contradistinction to the representative bodies as collective subjects of enunciation, Metro’s relationship to its domain was much more direct. Its relationship was much more akin to a special task force that had both the political and technical clout to solve a particular problem than a regulatory body that had to manage a wide array of problems. In contradistinction to Foucault’s doctors, it had no direct relationship to the bodies of the population, but was instead charged with evaluating and redesigning a technical system that ultimately affected such bodies. In this sense, the technical staff somewhat resembles the doctors that Foucault (1994) studied at length, although at a somewhat greater separation, while the executive board occupies a subject position more akin to the legislators already discussed.
The Seattle 2000 Commission was a much broader coalition of “neighborhood, community, business, student, specific interest groups, and citizen advisory and governing boards of public agencies within the Seattle area that have demonstrated an interest in planning or the social, economic or environmental problems facing Seattle” as well as the members of the Planning Commission and an executive board (Resolution 23684). The executive board, however, is again composed of various professionals – including lawyers, architects, bankers, and accountants – small business owners, environmental advocates, a union representative, and even a former member of the communist party turned neighborhood community activist. Moreover, the broader commission is divided into specific task forces based on expertise and interest, and works alongside staff from the municipal Department of Community Development. This arrangement provides a means of organizing a wide range of interests into a single document. Therefore the core of this group, much like the Metropolitan Council, is constituted by a group whose members are primarily connected by their mission and responsibility to the City Council than by any one system of training or knowledge. Moreover, the fact that their activities relied heavily on public input further diversifies the number of present voices.
The sites of the Seattle 2000 Commission’s outreach work included six months of intensive work in the City Council Chambers, meeting rooms at Seattle Center and City Hall, public schools around the city, information booths in shopping areas, posters, and the Seattle 2000 Center – which was a space reserved for research and meetings in the Central Building downtown – as well as a newsletter and radio and television broadcasts. Documents from this era convey an open, welcoming, and inclusive environment in which the leaders of the task forces primarily serve as facilitating and listening subjects. The communications committee’s central role is that of boosters, encouraging potential participants to air their concerns and express their desires in a comprehensive way, but with a sense of urgency: “Remind people that if they want a better future, they have to start working today – and Seattle 2000 is one way to do it” (Seattle 2000 Commission 1973).
The collective subjects responsible for producing neighborhood plans are of a similar mixture, but have their own internal variegation, especially when one distinguishes between the Cascade Neighborhood Council (CNC)’s grassroots plan and the originally adopted neighborhood plan. The common denominator between the two plans is, of course, neighborhood “stakeholders,” but even this category is destabilized by the fact that the CNC’s plan was prepared entirely by residents, while the adopted plan’s local representation also includes a wide range of other business interests. The updated neighborhood also plan includes input from an even broader range of community groups. In the two adopted plans, a specific group – the DPD in this case, with the assistance of the City of Seattle Interdepartmental team and the Seattle Planning Commission for the most recent plan – is responsible for collecting, organizing, and expressing these diverse interests according to their own criteria and norms. In contradistinction to the aforementioned collective subjects, the urban planners ultimately responsible for producing the documents do pass through a regulated and normalizing institution which installs their professional status.
In this respect, planners do have something in common with Foucault’s doctors that those in elected positions and on commissions do not. Foucault (2010, 51) writes:
“The status of the doctor is generally a rather special one in all forms of society and civilization: he is hardly ever an undifferentiated or interchangeable person. Medical statements cannot come from anybody; their value, efficacy, even their therapeutic powers, and generally speaking, their existence as medical statements cannot be dissociated from the statutorily defined person who has the right to make them, and to claim for them the power to overcome suffering and death.”
To equate the status of urban planners in particular – or design professionals in general – with that of doctors is undeniably absurd, for the latter are not dealing with immediate suffering and death, yet the two functions have an element of isotropy even though they operate across different spatial, temporal, and biological boundaries. The status of both groups rests on the legally sanctioned right to make professional statements; criteria of competence and knowledge; and institutions, systems, and pedagogic norms (Foucault 2010, 50). However, they differ in at least three primary respects. Temporally, the doctor deals with everything ranging from immediate suffering to lifelong illness, but the human life span is the outer limit of concern; the design professional necessarily thinks beyond the human life span and is increasingly concerned with long term social, environmental, and economic sustainability. Spatially, a doctor’s concern is largely confined to the immediate body in need of treatment, though it can certainly expand out in the cases of epidemics and public health; the design professionals under consideration here begin at the scale of the building, but are even more disposed to working at the neighborhood, city, and even regional scales. Biologically, the doctor is focused on human health, while contemporary designers are engaging with the health and relationships between built and natural environments. Moreover, there is another crucial qualitative difference at play: whereas doctors deal with human life as such, design professionals are primarily dealing with how humans experience and evaluate the quality of their lives. Life itself is indeed a concern at the limit of designers’ purviews – and perhaps increasingly so, with the looming threats of climate change, for example – but this is more of an orientation, a morality, an esprit de corps, than an object of their statements. This is not to downplay this element in the least, but is meant solely to further differentiate the relationship between these two types of professionals and life as such, and to acknowledge the potential domain of concern for design, even if it is often standardized, operationalized, aestheticized or outright constrained economically by “value engineering.”
The Urban Design Framework (UDF), the Department of Planning and Development (DPD)’s Director’s Report on the 2013 rezone, and the neighborhood specific design guidelines were also produced by such professionals. The project team for the UDF was constituted by three urban planners from the Seattle DPD, and three architects from the local design firm Weber Thompson, but also relies on a familiar range of community stakeholders. The Director’s report is an urban planning document that similarly draws on a wide range of information, including the neighborhood plan, UDF, and public comments over a five-year period (DPD 2013, 7). The design guidelines were penned by municipal urban planners and consulting architects, with assistance from neighborhood planning organizations as well as the Design Review boards, which in the case of the West District board covering SLU, includes a representative from a local business, the community, the design sector, the development industry, as well as a local resident.
The sites from which these discursive objects emerge are variegated, as the movement from the activity preceding the updated neighborhood plan to the Director’s Report attests. It consists of a series of official open houses, public workshops, public hearings, and public meetings (Seattle DPD 2012, 2-15 – 2-16). These public events occur in a wide range of locations, from Council Chambers, to Unity Church in SLU, to Vulcan’s SLU Discovery Center, while it is also safe to say that much of the design work occurs in the DPD’s offices as well as in the private consultants’ offices. The public events are also broadcast on the Seattle Channel and are archived on their website, while councilmembers appear on talk radio shows to discuss the proposals that are in the works. Moreover, the reports themselves – whether they are prepared by the DPD, private consultants, or a mix between these two groups – are published as official DPD documents.
Similar to the elected officials, these design professionals are questioning, listening, seeing, and observing subjects: the former two particularly when they are working in public outreach; the latter two primarily when assessing the existing built environment. However, they are also facilitators of public outreach proceedings, where they provide the rules of engagement for design charrettes or reviews, for example, and are a particular form of intellectual laborer when they synthesize, categorize, design, and produce zoning and design documents. Each of these roles also has its own set of instruments: an actual charrette is built on simple technologies like colored pens and post-it notes, but it relies on the more sophisticated mapping and computer-aided design technology that also empowers their intellectual labor.
Private and Semi-public Enunciative Modalities
Vulcan is a different type of subject altogether: it is the investment and philanthropic company of one man – Paul Allen, the cofounder of Microsoft – but the statements it produces come from a wide variety of individuals. Allen himself is unapologetically both progressive and normative in his approach to investing, as can be seen in his online biography:
“Paul Allen has a question. And if you ever meet him, you’ll hear him ask it more than once. What should exist? What if we don’t have to accept the world as it is? What if there is more to know? What if we played the long game for the future, instead of pursuing short-term rewards?[…] Every direction he pursues starts from the very same place – a relentless belief in possibility and the desire to open up the future. Like many of us, when Paul notices something about the world that interests or fascinates or bothers him, he wonders if it can be done differently, more efficiently, more in service of progress. And over the years he’s discovered that it can. And it should.” (Allen n.d.)
His list of investments in business ventures, philanthropy, sports, music and culture, knowledge, and exploration is nothing short of astonishing, and includes space exploration, artificial intelligence, film production, brain science, combatting Ebola, and of course, real estate development. “His business decisions are inspired by a desire to create solutions with the potential to change the world” (Allen n.d.).
The real estate division of Vulcan is a “fully integrated team of more than 40 professionals offers a full range of services including development, urban planning, portfolio management, marketing and leasing, market research and appraisal, financing, government affairs and community relations” (Vulcan), and is led by a smattering of individuals with M.B.A.s and degrees in architecture, civil engineering, and economics. There is clearly more homogeneity in this subgroup than in the public sector assemblages, and less than in the urban planning discipline itself, but each professional path nevertheless entails its own set of criteria and norms.
Vulcan’s statements emerge in a range of institutional sites: city hall, various forms of news media, professional trade publications such as the Daily Journal of Commerce and the Puget Sound Business Journal, as well as Vulcan’s own marketing outlets – ranging from websites to the South Lake Union Discovery Center – and even the “blogosphere.” These statements also occur in different modes: text, photographs, graphs, charts, renderings, timelines, and video. In this sense, they correspond to the set of institutions proffering statements by the Seattle 2000 Commission or Committee for the Seattle Commons – which is discussed below – but sharply diverge in terms of subject positions. As a private entity, Vulcan does not serve as a facilitator of public input. Rather, it takes the documents that have already been organized by planners, designers, and legislators and transforms them into plans for action. It certainly questions, listens, sees, observes – as does Foucault’s doctor – but its primary function is transformation rather than interpretation. Moreover, its set of tools is broader than that of legislators or designers: it marshals the powers of qualitative data collection and coordination, as well as the tools for envisioning how they can ultimately be laid out, but converts this information into abstract quantities that can be sorted, analyzed, and optimized by Vulcan itself or its standing army of consultants, and presented to the world beyond its walls.
The Seattle Commons discourses point to another multifaceted collective subject that involves newspaper columnists, architects, activists, politicians, neighborhood property owners, and so forth. In the interest of space, I will draw heavily on Iglitzen’s (1995) summary of her in depth case study (1993) – which came out of two years worth of in-depth fieldwork – to get the most accurate information about the this collective subject. Citing Hinterberger’s series of columns in the Seattle Times as a “major impetus” for the project, she also notes that
“the vision of a large park captured not only the public at large, but, more significantly, it intrigued a small band of influential citizens who were attracted by the thought of making their mark by using their private entrepreneurial skills to create a major urban amenity that would endure throughout the years” (Iglitzen 1995, 622, my emphasis).
A central figure in this portion of the discursive formation was Joel Horn, an “outsider” who was informally contacted and asked to lead the Committee for the Seattle Commons. His status as a leader was certified by the fact that he had “the needed leadership qualities, business background, experience in the land conservancy movement [Rails to Trails], and interest, energy, and political savvy” (ibid, 623). Additionally, the group’s board was populated by civically-engaged attorneys and businesspeople, and people with experience and ties to neighborhood groups, low-income housing, human services, while working groups included individuals versed in park design, transit, housing, land acquisition, and finance, not to mention a veritable army of volunteers (ibid., 625-6). Iglitzen stresses that this group’s strategy was to operate independently of City Hall, but it nevertheless benefitted from the “informal support of the mayor and his top aides,” technical assistance from city planners, not to mention private developers and the media, who kept the story of the project circulating (ibid.). The status of this assemblage is therefore cemented in the individual statuses of the constituents. They may not be elected officials, but they send one another Christmas cards; they are the movers and shakers, the “downtown elite.”
The institutional sites from which these discourses emerge are also diverse. In terms of media coverage, statements come from sites as diverse as the Seattle Times and Network X, which was broadcast on public access cable television. The Committee regularly released its own design charrette documents, draft plans, informational publications, and a fiscal impacts analysis. As the City became officially involved, a Draft and a Final EIS were prepared, as was a review of its financing plan, summaries of public input, an independent fiscal impact analysis, and wide range of legislature adopting work plans and particular designs, releasing funds, and authorizing elections.
This collective subject’s range of positions resembles both those of the design professionals in their facilitative and productive modes, and of Vulcan in terms of its relative independence and strategic function – a predictable range considering the mixture of actors constituting the assemblages – but it also resembles the public authority subjects in terms of its diversity. However, it differs from these groups significantly because it lacks the normalized training of the planners, the degree of autonomy granted to Vulcan by its access to capital, and the public authority groups’ legal status.
In his reflection on medical discourse, Foucault (2010, 53) is clear that it is the “integrator” of distinct elements concerning the status of doctors, as well as the sites and situations in and through which they spoke. Above all else, the point is that discourse is active; it is a practice that establishes relations between individual elements that did not previously exist. The discourse of the Coordinated City functions in a similar way, drawing together an even wider range of legally sanctioned statuses, sites, and situations. The three enunciative modalities that have been sketched here – Representative Bodies, Citizen-Government-Professional, and Private and Semi-Public – cover a much broader portion of the social field, linking up professionals, politicians, and citizens across sites including local elementary schools, the state capitol, technical reports, and media through particular relationships of perception, facilitation, and analysis. These concrete relationships are responsible for determining how urbanization unfolds in any particular actualization of the Coordinated City, in SLU or elsewhere.
[CONCEPTS DISCUSSION WILL GO HERE]
 His reason for using “enunciative modality” instead of “subject” is that he is striving to de-privilege any sort of unified psychological subject and is instead interested in the set of singular practices.
 The City Council is currently transitioning to elections across seven districts, with two at-large seats. In the 2015 election, all nine seats will be up for election, though the at-large seats will only be elected for a two-year term instead of the traditional four-year term. In 2017, and corresponding the Mayoral and City Attorney elections, there will be another election for these two at-large seats, but for a four-year term (Office of the City Clerk).
 As of early 2015.
 One could explain the relationship between power and spatial organization by presenting the space of the chambers, with the councilmembers seated on high during full council, separated from the masses by a “moat” which houses the conference table used in committee meetings, and which is also separated by a partial wall, but alas, that geographico-architectural problem is (thankfully) outside the scope of this study.
 While the nature of engineering work has its own set of interesting aspects, to delve into them here would be too much of a diversion. Instead of following that line, the technical work of urban planners, which has had a much greater impact on SLU itself, will be discussed below. The importance of Metro, I repeat, lies in its status as an early comprehensive and integrated solution to regional problems.
 Participation in the commission is open to all concerned citizens from of age “2 to 200” (Seattle 2000 Commission Brochure 1972) but specifically invited participants include representatives from Patrons of Northwest Civic, Cultural and Charitable Organizations (PONCHO), Seattle Art Museum, The Restaurant Association of Washington, Washington Bankers Association, University of Washington, Young Women’s Christian Association (YWCA), Washington Women Lawyers, Seattle Professional Photographer’s Association, King County Child Care Coordinating Committee, United Inner City Development Foundation, Washington State Association of Broadcasters, Environment Northwest, City of Seattle Department of Lighting, League of Women Voters, Seattle Jaycees, The Vance Corporation, Rainier Chamber of Commerce, Seattle Model City Program, and the Seattle Department of Parks and Recreation.
 Sally Goldmark – the wife of John Goldmark, who was a prominent liberal member of the Washington State House of Representatives – became a member of the Communist Party in 1935. This affiliation, along with Mr. Goldmark’s liberal voting record ultimately led to his being painted as Communist sympathizer in the 1962 elections and losing his seat (Historylink).
 See the discussion of the Seattle 2000 Commission and the Quality of Life surface of emergence in Chapter 3 for more information on the range of task forces.
 The hours of operation for the Seattle 2000 Center emphasize how committed the City was to this process: Monday, 7:30 AM – 5:00 PM, Tuesday – Friday, 7:30 AM – 7:30 PM, and Saturday, 9:00 AM – 4:00 PM. Moreover, the specific task forces were encouraged to come get a key and “avail themselves of the facilities and the resources at the Center” for after-hours work (Seattle 2000 Commission 1972).
 “[T]he South Lake Union Roundtable, South Lake Union Business Association, area property owners, Center for Wooden Boats, Maritime Heritage Foundation, Cascade Area Business Council, Northwest Seaport and architects working on historic preservation” (SLUPO 1998, 5)
 South Lake Union Friends and Neighbors (SLUFAN), CNC, Seattle Unity Church, Consolidated Works, Cascade Partnership for Safety, Morningside Academy, New Discovery School, SLUNET, SLU Area Schools Coalition, SLU Arts and Culture Coalition, and the SLU Chamber of Commerce, as well as community members (Department of Planning and Development 2007, 3)
 This team is composed of individuals from Seattle City Light, Seattle Public Utilities, the Office of Policy and Management, and the Departments of Human Services, Parks and Recreation, Neighborhoods, Housing, Transportation, Arts and Cultural Affairs, and the Fire Department (Department of Planning and Development 2007, 3).
 The Planning Commission is “a 16 member volunteer body that is appointed by the Mayor and City Council. Each Commissioner serves a three year term and can only serve two consecutive terms” (Seattle Planning Commission).
 Office location: the corner of Terry Avenue and Thomas Street in South Lake Union.
 Local architects, a commercial real estate firm, Lake Union Opportunity Alliance (neighborhood advocacy), South Lake Union Friends and Neighbors (SLUFAN; the two representatives come from the Alliance of General contractors and another local architecture firm), Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center, Vulcan, Cornish College of the Arts, SLU Chamber of Commerce, CNC, Housing Development Consortium (affordable housing advocates)
DPD’s City Design and City Green Building teams, Seattle City Light, Seattle Public Utilities, Seattle’s Office of Housing, and the departments of Neighborhoods, Parks, Housing, and Transportation. (Seattle DPD 2010, 4).
 As of early 2015, four of the West District’s members are architects, planners, or developers. The fifth (the resident) is a management consultant who often works for design firms.
 In the case of the Final Environmental Impact Statement, a wide range of comments from public agencies, community organizations and interest groups on the draft version, as well as the DPD’s responses, are also included.
 Iglitzen (1995, 621-2) writes: “The author attended a wide range of Commons-related meetings over a period of two years: private gatherings and public neighborhood ‘information’ and fundraising meetings sponsored by the Commons organization, numerous press conferences, regular meetings of opponents’ organizations, city of Seattle planning department-sponsored forums and information meetings, and city council hearings. Informal interviews with participants and attendees at all of these meetings were conducted whenever feasible.” Moreover, she conducted interviews were conducted early in the planning process and near its end, with “Commons board members, architects, design professionals, policymakers, city staffers, civic leaders, housing and community activists, and business people” (ibid.).