An Exploration of Planners Role as Rule Makers

By someone who doesn’t particularly like rules.

Urban planning is often described as the practice of writing rules—rules that shape how new places are built and how existing ones change. In practice, it is the creation, modification, and enforcement of this set of rules. That framing alone is enough to turn people off. Rules imply limits, enforcement, and authority.

Having grown up in New Orleans, I take pride in my city’s rebellious nature. We live below sea level. We’ll walk about anywhere with a drink in our hand. We paint our houses neon colors. We shut down our schools to let parades take over the streets. These everyday acts of rebellion are how the city expresses its identity. So, it’s fair to ask why someone shaped by that environment would choose a profession so closely associated with regulation.

The answer is that rules, on their own, are not the problem. In fact, rules are the foundation of any game worth playing. Football, poker, Go Fish—none of them work without shared expectations. The same is true of cities. City-building is more consequential than a card game, but it follows a few parallel principles.

First, players must understand the rules.

Ask a stranger in the grocery store what they know about their city’s comprehensive plan or land development code, and you will likely get a blank stare. Hand them a zoning ordinance and you may be met with confusion or suspicion. Yet ask that same person about the new coffee shop or apartment building on their block and you might get an emotional response. People are deeply invested in their neighborhoods, even if they don’t speak the language of planning. One of a planner’s core responsibilities is translation: turning obscure, technical rules into something people can understand and engage with.

Second, rules exist for a reason.

Planning rules are justified in the name of community health, safety, and welfare. That justification matters, but it should never be taken for granted. Cities change, and rules that once served the public good can become barriers to it. Treating regulations as untouchable truths rather than testable tools is how planning drifts from stewardship into dogma.

Third, the rules do not determine outcomes. The players do.

Cities are not built by rules. They are built by residents, small business owners, community organizations, and yes, developers. Planning driven by a desire for control misses this reality. A strong set of rules functions as guardrails—protecting people from falling off the edge while leaving room to weave a unique path. It creates structure without suffocating creativity and clarity without erasing difference.

Finally, the rules should allow everyone to play.

When rules are too complicated or too restrictive, participation doesn’t disappear—it concentrates in the hands of a few. Only those with time, resources, and expertise to navigate the rules can play the game. A good planning framework invites a diversity of players to the table, confident that the rules are not rigged in anyone’s favor. When the rules invite people in, they empower a diversity of voices to shape the city’s future.

I never expected to find myself writing rules, not to mention writing rules about writing rules. But this work plays a significant role in shaping how cities are built and who gets to build them, and I am grateful to be a part of it. Urban planning is not about controlling outcomes; it is about creating the conditions for positive change. Done well, it serves as an enabling force, allowing cities to evolve, adapt, and tell the stories of those who call them home.