In a broader sense, co-creation means the joint effort of bringing something new to fruition through acts of collective creativity (Sanders & Stappers, 2008) which can be manifested in both tangible (making something together) or intangible (learning something together) outcomes (Puerari et al., 2018). Recently, the concepts of co-creation or co- production have been applied to describe the processes of participation in urban planning and design. Both terms place particular emphasis on the partnerships formed between citizens and the public sector, in which a high level of citizen involvement is pivotal. Participation has been defined through its different levels of citizen involvement, ranging from non-participation to greater degrees of citizen control (Arnstein, 1969) indicating the different levels of influence a participant can have on a participatory process. From the perspective of urban planning, citizen participation is beginning to be described as co-creation when citizens’ roles become more prominent, presenting aspects of self-organisation, increased commitment and a sense of ownership of the process (Puerari et al., 2018). Recent research is exploring new methods of urban planning in which citizens, the municipality and private organisations co-create new planning rules (Bisschops & Beunen, 2019). However, co-creation along with co-production and participation, often used interchangeably, have become popular catchphrases and are considered as processes which are of virtue in themselves. Furthermore, while there is substantial research on these processes, the research conducted on the outcomes of enhanced participation remains rather limited (Voorberg et al., 2015). This highlights the ambiguity in terms of interpretation; is co-creation a methodology, a set of tools to enhance and drive a process, or a goal in itself? (Puerari et al., 2018). There have often been cases where participation, co-creation and co-production have been used decoratively, as a form of justification and validation of decisions already made (Armeni, 2016). In the provision of public spaces, co-creation/co-production may specifically involve housing (Brandsen & Helderman, 2012; Chatterton, 2016) and placemaking: “placemaking in public space implies engaging in the practice of urban planning and design beyond an expert culture. Such collaboration can be described as co-creation.” (Eggertsen Teder, 2019, p.290). As in participation, co-creation requires the sharing of decision-making powers, the creation of  joint knowledge and the assignation of abilities between communities, while urban professionals and local authorities should draw attention to the active involvement of community members. Furthermore, co-creation does not take place in a vacuum, but always occurs within socio- spatial contexts. This points to the objective of co-creation as a tool to influence locally relevant policy through innovation that is “place-based”. To conclude, co-creation can be perceived as a process that is both transdisciplinary in its application, and as a tool for achieving transdisciplinarity on a broader scale through a systematic integration in existing standard practices in urban planning, housing design and architecture. Despite the persisting ambiguity in its definition, co-creation processes can provide more inclusive platforms for revisiting and informing formal and informal knowledge on sustainable and affordable housing.

According to the Oxford English Dictionary, participation is “the act of taking part in an activity or event”. Likewise, it can also mean “the fact of sharing or the act of receiving or having a part of something.” It derives from old French participacion which in turn comes from late Latin participationem, which means “partaking” (Harper, 2000).  References to participation can be found in many fields, including social sciences, economics, politics, and culture. It is often related to the idea of citizenship and its different representations in society. Hence, it could be explained as an umbrella concept, in which several others can be encompassed, including methodologies, philosophical discourses, and tools. Despite the complexity in providing a holistic definition, the intrinsic relation between participation and power is widely recognised. Its ultimate objective is to empower those involved in the process (Nikkhah & Redzuan, 2009). An early application of participatory approaches was the Participatory Rural Appraisal (PRA) which exerted a significant influence in developing new discourses and practices of urban settings (Chambers, 1994; Friedmann, 1994). In the late 1970s increasing attention was paid to the concept by scholars, and several associated principles and terminologies evolved, such as the participation in design and planning with the Scandinavian approach of cooperative design (Bφdker et al., 1995; Gregory, 2003). Participation in design or participatory design is a process and strategy that entails all stakeholders (e.g. partners, citizens, and end-users) partaking in the design process. It is a democratic process for design based on the assumption that users should be involved in the designs they will go on to use (Bannon & Ehn, 2012; Cipan, 2019; Sanoff, 2000, 2006, 2007). Likewise, participatory planning is an alternative paradigm that emerged in response to the rationalistic and centralized – top-down – approaches. Participatory planning aims to integrate the technical expertise with the preferences and knowledge of community members (e.g., citizens, non-governmental organizations, and social movements) directly and centrally in the planning and development processes, producing outcomes that respond to the community's needs (Lane, 2005). Understanding participation through the roles of participants is a vital concept. The work of Sherry Arnstein’s (1969) Ladder of Citizen Participation has long been the cornerstone to understand participation from the perspective of the redistribution of power between the haves and the have-nots. Her most influential typological categorisation work yet distinguishes eight degrees of participation as seen in Figure 1: manipulation, therapy, placation, consultation, informing, citizen control, delegated power and partnership. Applied to a participatory planning context, this classification refers to the range of influence that participants can have in the decision-making process. In this case, no-participation is defined as designers deciding based upon assumptions of the users’ needs and full-participation refers to users defining the quality criteria themselves (Geddes et al., 2019). A more recent classification framework that also grounds the conceptual approach to the design practice and its complex reality has been developed by Archon Fung (2006) upon three key dimensions: who participates; how participants communicate with one another and make decisions together, and how discussions are linked with policy or public action. This three-dimensional approach which Fung describes as a democracy cube (Figure 2), constitutes a more analytic space where any mechanism of participation can be located. Such frameworks of thinking allow for more creative interpretations of the interrelations between participants, participation tools (including immersive digital tools) and contemporary approaches to policymaking. Aligned with Arnstein’s views when describing the lower rungs of the ladder (i.e., nonparticipation and tokenism), other authors have highlighted the perils of incorporating participatory processes as part of pre-defined agendas, as box-ticking exercises, or for political manipulation. By turning to eye-catching epithets to describe it (Participation: The New Tyranny? by Cooke & Kothari, 2001; or The Nightmare of Participation by Miessen, 2010), these authors attempt to raise awareness on the overuse of the term participation and the possible disempowering effects that can bring upon the participating communities, such as frustration and lack of trust. Examples that must exhort practitioners to reassess their role and focus on eliminating rather than reinforcing inequalities (Cooke & Kothari, 2001).

Community empowerment appears in the literature of participatory action research (Minkler, 2004), participatory planning (Jo & Nabatchi, 2018), and community development (Luttrell et al., 2009) as a key element of participatory practices, understanding it as a process that enables communities to take control of their lives and their environments (Rappaport, 2008; Zimmerman, 2000). Many argue that community participation becomes meaningless if it does not lead to, or pass through community empowerment. As the term is being used in diverse and ubiquitous ways, it runs the risk of ending up as an empty definition and a catch-all phrase (McLaughlin, 2015). It is therefore important to specify the perspective through which we will view the term and clarify the nuances.  Since its origins, empowerment has been used in two different ways. Firstly, top-down as the power that had been ‘granted’ by a higher authority, such as the state or a religious institution, and secondly, bottom-up, as a process by which groups or individuals come to develop the capacity to act and acquire power. Examples of the latter can be found in social groups such as feminists working in nongovernmental organizations throughout the global south in the 1970s, who found a way to address social issues and inequalities that enabled social transformation based on women’s self-organization (Biewener & Bacqué, 2015). The term was gradually appropriated by welfare, neoliberal, and social-neoliberal agendas whose priority was individual agency and choice. In neoliberal rationality, empowerment is related to efficiency, economic growth, business productivity, and individual rational choice to maximize profit in a competitive market economy. In social liberalism agendas, empowerment is understood as ‘effective agency’, where ‘agency’ is not an inherent attribute, but something that needs to be constructed through ‘consciousness-raising’ (McLaughlin, 2016). A broader definition sees empowerment as a social action process through which individuals, communities, and organizations take control of their lives in the context of changing the social and political environment to improve equity and quality of life (Rappaport, 2008; Zimmerman, 2000). Rowlands (1997), refers to four types of empowerment: power over, as the ability to influence and coerce; power to, to organize and change existing hierarchies; power with, as the power from the collective action and power within, as the power from the individual consciousness. Using this classification, Biewener & Bacqué (2015), adopting a feminist approach, understand empowerment as a multilevel construct with three interrelated dimensions: 1) an internal, psychological one, where ‘power within’ and ‘power to’ are developed, 2) an organizational, where ‘power with’ and ‘power over’ are strengthened and 3) a social or political level, where institutional and structural change is made possible through collective action. Thus, community empowerment links the individual level, which involves self-determination, growth of individual awareness, and self-esteem, to the collective level, relating critical consciousness and capacity building with the structural level, where collective engagement and transformative social action take place. This view of empowerment, which considers its goals and processes, has a social dimension that is lacking in other approaches that prioritize individual empowerment. Aside from the feminist movements, the philosophy and practices of community empowerment have been greatly influenced by the work of Paulo Freire, a Brazilian educator and an advocate on critical pedagogy. Freire proposed a dialogic problem-solving process based on equality and mutual respect between students and teachers; that engaged them in a process of iterative listening-discussing-acting. Through structured dialogue, group participants shared their experiences, discussed common problems, and looked for root causes and the connections among “problems behind the problems as symptoms” (Freire, 1970). The term conscientization, that Freire proposed, refers to the consciousness that arises through the involvement of people in the social analysis of conditions and their role in changing them. This awareness enables groups to be reflexive and open spaces, to enact change or to understand those limited situations that may deter change (Barndt, 1989). Empowerment can be understood as both a process and an outcome (Jo & Nabatchi, 2018). As a process, it refers to “the development and implementation of mechanisms to enable individuals or groups to gain control, develop skills and test knowledge”(Harrison & Waite, 2015) and it entails the creation of new subjects who have developed a critical consciousness and the formation of groups with a ‘collective agency’ ‚ or ‘social collective identity’ (Biewener & Bacqué, 2015). Empowerment as an outcome refers to “an affective state in which the individual or group feels that they have increased control, greater understanding and are involved and active” (Harrison & Waite, 2015). This can lead to a transformation of the social conditions by challenging the structures and institutionalized forms that reproduce inequalities. The values and the significance of community empowerment can be further applied in the participatory and community-based approaches of the housing sector. Examples of such approaches in the housing provision are the housing cooperatives, and self-developed and self-managed housing groups. Housing cooperatives aim at promoting co-creation to engage future residents, professionals, and non-profit organizations in all the stages of a housing project: problem-framing, designing, developing, cohabiting, managing, and maintaining. Such organisational models stress the importance and pave the way for community empowerment by uniting individuals with similar interests and ideals, enabling them to have housing that responds to their needs, preferences, and values. The participation of the residents aims to strengthen their sense of ownership of the process, the democratic decision-making and management, and the social collective identity, making community empowerment an integral characteristic of cooperative housing initiatives. With this social perspective, residents can gain individual and collective benefits while contributing to fairer and more sustainable urban development on a larger scale (Viskovic Rojs et al., 2020).

From the three pillars of sustainable development, economic, environmental and social, the latter  involving social equity and the sustainability of communities, has  been especially neglected. Ongoing problems caused by conflicting economic, environmental and social goals with regard to the processes of urbanisation continue. underpinning economic growth that contradict principles of environmental and social justice (Boström, 2012; Cuthill, 2010; Winston, 2009). Research on sustainable development highlights the need for further investigation of social sustainability (Murphy, 2012; Vallance et al., 2011). Social sustainability has been interpreted as an umbrella term encompassing many other related concepts; “social equity and justice, social capital, social cohesion, social exclusion, environmental justice, quality of life, and urban liveability” (Shirazi & Keivani, 2019, p. 4). A vast number of studies have been dedicated to defining social sustainability by developing theoretical frameworks and indicators particularly relevant to urban development and housing discourse (Cuthill, 2010; Dempsey et al., 2011; Murphy, 2012; Woodcraft, 2012). However, with a lack of consensus on the way of utilising these frameworks in a practical way, especially when applied to planning, social sustainability has remained difficult to evaluate or measure. Consequently, planning experts, housing providers and inhabitants alike understand social sustainability as a normative concept, according to established social norms, and less as an opportunity to critically examine existing institutions. Vallance et al (2011) provide three categories to analyse social sustainability, development, bridge and maintenance sustainability: (a) social development improves conditions of poverty and inequity, from the provision of basic needs to the redistribution of power to influence existing development paradigms; (b) the conditions necessary to bridge social with ecological sustainability, overcoming currently disconnected social and ecological concerns; and (c) the social practices, cultural preferences as well as the environments which are maintained over time. Maintenance social sustainability particularly deals with how people interpret what is to be maintained and includes “new housing developments, the layout of streets, open spaces, residential densities, the location of services, an awareness of habitual movements in place, and how they connect with housing cultures, preferences, practices and values, particularly those for low-density, suburban lifestyles” (Vallance et al., 2011, p. 345). Therefore, the notion of maintenance is especially important in defining social sustainability by directly investigating the established institutions, or “sets of norms” that constitute the social practices and rules, that in turn, affect responsibilities for planning urban spaces. A conceptual framework that appears frequently in social sustainability literature is that of Dempsey et al. (2011)⁠ following Bramley et al. (2009), defining social sustainability according to the variables of social equity and sustainability of community and their relationship to urban form, significantly at the local scale of the neighbourhood. In terms of the built environment, social equity (used interchangeably with social justice) is understood as the accessibility and equal opportunities to frequently used services, facilities, decent and affordable housing, and good public transport. In this description of local, as opposed to regional services, proximity and accessibility are important. Equitable access to such local services effectively connects housing to key aspects of everyday life and to the wider urban infrastructures that support it. Sustainability of community is associated with the abilities of society to develop networks of collective organisation and action and is dependent on social interaction. The associated term social capital has also been used extensively to describe social norms and networks that can be witnessed particularly at the community level to facilitate collective action (Woolcock, 2001, p. 70). They might include a diversity of issues such as resident interaction, reciprocity, cooperation and trust expressed by common exchanges between residents, civic engagement, lower crime rates and other positive neighbourhood qualities that are dependent on sharing a commitment to place (Foster, 2006; Putnam, 1995; Temkin & Rohe, 1998). In fact, “the heightened sense of ownership and belonging to a locale” is considered to encourage the development of social relations (Hamiduddin & Adelfio, 2019, p. 188). However, the gap between theoretical discussions about social sustainability and their practical application has continued. For example, the emphasis of social sustainability as a target outcome rather than as a process has been prioritised in technocratic approaches to planning new housing developments and to measuring their success by factors which are tangible and easier to count and audit. Private housing developers that deal with urban regeneration make bold claims to social sustainability yet profound questions are raised regarding the effects of gentrification (Dixon, 2019). Accordingly, the attempted methods of public participation as planning tools for integrating the ‘social’ have been found to be less effective - their potential being undercut due to the reality that decision-making power has remained at the top (Eizenberg & Jabareen, 2017). Therefore, social sustainability is not a fixed concept, it is contingent on the interdependence of the procedural aspects (how to achieve social sustainability) and substantive aspects (what are the outcomes of social sustainability goals) (Boström, 2012). From this point of view, social sustainability reveals its process-oriented nature and the need to establish processes of practicing social sustainability that begin with the participation of citizens in decision-making processes in producing equitable (i.e. socially sustainable) development. As a dimension of sustainable development that is harder to quantify than the economic or environmental aspects, the operationalisation of social sustainability goals into spatial, actionable principles has remained a burgeoning area of research. In such research, methods for enhancing citizen participation are a particularly important concern in order to engage and empower people with “non-expert” knowledge to collaborate with academic researchers.

Community-led housing involves residents, often organised into community groups, actively participating in planning, designing, financing and managing housing projects to meet their specific needs and preferences. This active involvement nurtures a sense of community ownership and control. This sense of community encompasses  feelings of belonging, shared identity, and mutual support among the residents of a community-led housing initiatives. The term is sometimes used interchangeably with the term "collaborative housing". Collaborative housing also refers to a participatory approach to housing development; however, the focus is on collaboration with the different stakeholders and encompasses various non-profit housing delivery models. While self-organised collective housing efforts are nothing new, a new wave of such initiatives has emerged in Europe since the 2000s (Lang et al., 2018; Tummers, 2016). In recent decades, market-provided housing has been the predominant model in Europe, often prioritising economic gain over the right to adequate shelter. The primary housing options from a tenure perspective are home ownership and rent, which are not always affordable for low-income groups (OECD, 2020, 2020). As a result, many communities are coming together to create secure and affordable housing solutions (Jarvis, 2015). However, the motivations behind these initiatives can vary among the involved groups and may reflect economic, ideological, social or ecological ideals (Caldenby et al., 2020). Some of these motivations include creating affordable homes, exploring more sustainable living practices, and fostering a sense of community and social cohesion. In contrast to other forms of collective housing, community-led housing schemes do not merely emphasize resource or living space sharing: they empower the community to play a proactive role in shaping their built and living environment. According to the Co-operative Councils Innovative Network (2018), community-led housing are developments that meet the following criteria: There is meaningful community engagement throughout the process, even if they did not initiate or build the scheme. The community has a long-term formal role in the ownership or management of the homes. The benefits of the scheme to the local area and/or specified community group are clearly defined and legally protected in perpetuity. Community-led housing can take diverse forms, contingent upon the extent of involvement from the participating communities and the specific type of development. These manifestations range from grassroots groups independently initiating projects to meet their housing needs, to community organizations spearheading housing initiatives. Additionally, developers, such as local authorities or housing associations, can initiate partnerships to provide housing solutions with a community-led component (Lang et al., 2020). Furthermore, concerning the development model, community-led housing can encompass constructing new homes, repurposing vacant homes and managing existing housing units. Each of these approaches has the potential to significantly influence the broader neighbourhood context (Fromm, 2012). The forms of community-led housing include: Housing cooperatives: These are groups of people who provide and collectively manage, homes for themselves as tenants or shared owners, based on democratic membership principles. Cohousing: These consist of like-minded people who come together to provide self-contained private homes for themselves while collectively managing their scheme and often sharing activities, including communal spaces. Cohousing can be developer-led, so it is important to examine whether cases meet the broad definition given above, rather than simply use the term cohousing as a marketing device. Community Land Trusts (CLTs): These are not-for-profit corporations that hold land as a community asset and serve as long-term providers of rental housing or shared ownership. Self-help housing: Small, community-based organisations bringing empty properties back into use, often without mainstream funding and with a strong emphasis on construction skills training and support. Tenant-Managed Organisations: They provide social housing tenants with collective responsibility for managing and maintaining the homes through an agreement with their council or housing association.   These models are adaptable and not mutually exclusive; for example, a co-housing group could choose to establish either a cooperative or a Community Land Trust (CLT). It is important to note that there are variations in how these models are applied in different contexts and countries. For local authorities, community-led housing offers several advantages. It improves the housing supply and the availability of affordable homes, diversifying the housing market while ensuring the long-term affordability of housing units. Additionally, community-led housing supports urban regeneration efforts and repurposes vacant homes. It has the potential to empower communities so that they become more self-sufficient. By involving residents in addressing their housing needs, these initiatives provide opportunities for vulnerable groups, such as the elderly, mono-parental families, etc., to live in supportive communities. Such housing schemes can be developed in various contexts, offering solutions for different housing challenges, including informal settlements, former refugee camps, and the heavily owner-occupied housing markets of South and Eastern Europe.

Placemaking in the urban realm is a holistic approach that foments the collaborative transformation of public spaces into vibrant, inclusive and engaging places. The core objective of placemaking is reflected in David Engwicht’s analogy: “placemaking is like turning a house into a home” (Placemaking.Education, no date), that is, to transform a mere physical location or space into an emotionally resonant and socially connected place. Placemaking encompasses not only the planning and design of spaces but also their sustainable management (Project for Public Spaces, 2016). The placemaking theory has been developed on the principle that urban and architectural projects should prioritize people and their emotions over cars and shopping centres. This idea originated in groundbreaking work of intellectuals from the 1960s, such as Jane Jacobs[1] and William H. Whyte[2]. Building upon their work, the term ‘placemaking’ started being used in the 1970s by architects and planners to describe the process of transforming public spaces into enjoyable destinations. Since then, a number of placemaking organisations, most notably the pioneering Project for Public Spaces (PPS)[3], have played a pivotal role in guiding community leaders toward the value of reinvesting in existing communities instead of pursuing endless urban sprawl. These organisations have raised awareness that this approach is both economically and environmentally more sustainable (Ellery, Ellery and Borkowsky, 2021). Over the last few decades, placemaking has been extensively used to describe various approaches in urban development, ranging from community-driven emancipatory practices, such as reclaiming underused neighbourhood spaces, to top-down strategic plans for neighbourhood revitalisations. Theoretical discussions have attempted to categorize placemaking processes with regards to ignition, goal, scale, budget and involvement, among others (Courage et al., 2021). One widely adopted classification among placemaking scholars is Wyckoff’s (2014) distinction of four types:    Standard Placemaking (or simply placemaking) aims at creating quality places and reviving existing public spaces. This approach is pursued by the public, non-profit, or private sector, employing community participation into a variety of projects and activities. These projects are often incremental, such as street and façade improvements, residential rehabs, which may encompass public spaces and small-scale projects. Tactical Placemaking focuses on creating quality places using a deliberate approach to change, developed in phases that begin with quick, short-term commitments and realistic expectations. Over time, short-term activities and projects achieve gradual transformations in public spaces. Tactical placemaking can be initiated by local development strategies or from bottom-up. It includes activities such as parking space conversions, self-guided historic walks, outdoor music events, and temporary conversion of buildings. Creative Placemaking utilises arts and cultural activities to strategically shape the identity of a neighbourhood, city, or region. The processes include revitalisation of buildings, structures and streetscapes, often improving the local business viability and public safety. Strategic Placemaking is targeted at achieving specific goals, such as raising the economic, social and cultural prosperity of a community in addition to creating quality places. This can be achieved by interventions that attract talented workers in certain locations, such as mixed-use places that are pedestrian-oriented, bike-friendly, as well as supporting recreation, arts and housing options. Naturally, implementing placemaking processes come with their own risks. Similar to other forms of civic participation, placemaking can sometimes become a buzzword for urban renewal programmes, especially when used to drive economic development of an area through spatial upgrade. When the goal is to replace an existing place with one considered an improvement, it is likely that the affected people may experience negative effects, such as direct or indirect displacement. In this regard, as placemaking strategies, aimed at revitalising underutilised spaces into vibrant places, consequently enhancing the location’s attractiveness and value, are often criticised for potentially fuelling gentrification trends rather than alleviating them (Placemaking Europe, 2019).   [1] In her work, epitomised in her book The Death and Life of Great American Cities (1961), Jacobs introduced the idea of “eyes on the street” that advocates for citizen ownership on the street. [2] Whyte’s groundbreaking work The social Life of Small Urban Spaces (1980), summarises his extensive research on the Street Life Project in New York, in which he recorded the human behaviour in the urban setting, concluding to the essential elements for creating social life in public spaces. (see more at Projects for Public Spaces, William H. Whyte) [3] Organisation led by Fred Kent and consisted of an interdisciplinary team, has been advancing placemaking processes since 1975 originally in the US and recently globally. Developing roadmaps and toolboxes that place community participation at the centre of action they have engaged with more than 35000 communities in 52 countries (About — Project for Public Spaces, no date), while at the same time sharing their placemaking experiences and principles (see Project for Public Spaces Inc., 2015) through networking activities and courses.

Public-civic partnerships (PCPs) or public-community collaborations, as discussed by Hopman et al., (2021), are forms of cooperation between the state and civil society. They involve transferring the ownership and control of urban resources to the hands of citizens. In this context, they can be viewed as commons-led institutional models, offering a ground of commoning the city. Consequently, they are also referred to as public commons partnerships (Milburn & Russell, 2019). Public-civic partnerships offer alternatives to the traditional binary state and market dynamic seen in the public-private partnership (PPP) model, which gained prominence after 2000 as a new form of cooperation between the state and the private sector. PPPs are characterized by long-term arrangements in which private sector contractors take on design, construction, operational, and sometimes financial responsibilities, becoming providers of traditionally public services (European Commision, 2003). However, PPP models have faced criticism for privatizing public goods, services and spaces, often prioritising private investment over public interests (Horvat, 2019).   On the contrary, PCPs propose an alternative approach. Instead of relying on private investors for the development of crucial urban infrastructure, public bodies collaborate with communities to design, produce and govern this infrastructure as commons. By doing so, PCPs drive systemic change,  offering innovative methods to democratize urban governance. They empower communities to transparently work with the public sector, determining the future of public assets such as food, care, water, energy, housing, and urban development (Heron, Milburn & Russell, 2021; Hopman et al., 2021). In recent years, cities such as Barcelona, Bologna, Naples, Ghent and Amsterdam, among others, have been developing commons-oriented strategies and municipal networks that enable and promote PCPs. These initiatives are often facilitated through contracts or ‘collaboration pacts’ (Foster & Iaione, 2016) among different stakeholders, notably from the civic and social sectors. The regulatory frameworks and operationalisation details, such as the legal form of the partnering entities, the duration of ownership transfers, and approved interventions in public spaces, vary from case to case (Bianchi, 2022). Experiences from the implementation of these policies show that several influential factors affect the development of PCPs. These are ideological, legal, political and economic in nature and include political will, existing laws, development strategies. material and funding sources, access to information, cooperation opportunities between the public and civic sectors, and further education of both realms on cooperation models (Cultural Creative Spaces & Cities, 2018). Among the several types of resources shared through PCPs, many municipal strategies facilitate the sharing of public spaces, which has significant implications from a sustainable local development point of view. These strategies involve the temporary or long-term transfer of ownership of municipal spaces, including empty buildings and building parts, streets and open spaces, and industrial heritage sites, to citizens or various associations formed between them and other sectors. Through these partnerships, sites are regenerated, transformed, and used for the benefit of the neighbourhood, while the public sector retains a supportive role. Throughout this process, several places and services, such as communal gardens, neighbourhood parks, solidary kitchens, caregiving and solidarity services, as well as community, educational and cultural centres, are created locally, by and for the residents.    

 “Spatial agency”, a term popularised by Jeremy Till, Tatjana Schneider, and Nishat Awan (Awan et al., 2011; Schneider & Till, 2009) emerged from two growing demands: firstly, the need to decentralise the normative practice and role of architecture within spatial production, and secondly to expand the profession, by elevating diverse human and non-human actors, and various practices that move beyond the confines of what is typically understood as architecture (Lorne, 2017). Ignited by Cedric Price’s call for disrupting the idea that a building is the direct and solely available solution to spatial matters (Matthews, 2006), and drawing upon Lefebvre’s notion of “right to the city” (Lorne, 2017; Purcell, 2014), spatial agency aims to challenge the hegemonic status quo in spatial production by shifting the focus from the urban environment as a collection of tangible objects, to a dynamic socio-political process, and an entanglement of actors and practices that shape it and are shaped in return. Spatial agency Space, according to Lefebvre is a social product (1991, p. 360). This acknowledgment primarily highlights three facts: (1) there is no neutrality when it comes to the production of space. Space is the result of an agonistic relation between the components of the conceptual triad of space[1], resulting from the various conflicts and clashes between social groups with different interests, values, and backgrounds (Awan et al., 2011; Lefebvre, 1991). (2) There is a clear distinction and yet a “contradictory unity” between the exchange value, i.e. the usefulness of a commodity in terms of its capacity to generate economic revenue within the market, and the use value, i.e. the usefulness of a commodity in terms of its effective response to an actual need (Pitts, 2021, p. 36). Within the current economic system, more often than not, the exchange value overpowers the use value (Purcell, 2014). (3) To ensure that the use value of a given space is guaranteed, spatial production should not be the sole domain of experts and those who hold power, but rather citizens and stakeholders should engage in “real and active participation” (Lefebvre, 1991, p. 145; Purcell, 2014). Spatial agency All of the above attempt to answer the question on who should have agency over spatial production, beyond the mandates of the current economic system. Anthony Giddens defined “agency” as a notion in a perpetuate dialectic relation with “structure” (1987, p. 220). While agency is the capacity of an individual to decide and act freely, structure outlines the framework of rules, constraints and limitations that shape a society, and both function as interrelated notions (i.e. none may exist without the other). Awan, Till & Schneider follow Giddens’ take on agency, which dictates that no one -and nothing- is either “completely free […] or completely entrapped by structure” (2011, p. 32), but rather somewhere in between.  This means that space neither entirely shapes society, nor is it entirely defined by society, and “spatial agents” neither act in full freedom nor are they fully restrained by structure. This creates a contextual dependency (different contexts bear different “restraints”) that emphasises the situatedness of any practice within the scope of spatial agency. Spatial agency Spatial agency refers to the capacity of individuals or groups to actively shape and transform their built environment. It is a term that transcends and expands architecture, re-emphasises the need for a critical and politically conscious approach in spatial production and seeks to illustrate both an education and practice of synergies that puts “spatial judgement, mutual knowledge and critical awareness” at the forefront (Awan et al., 2011, p. 34; Lorne, 2017). Through spatial agency, one may embrace the uncertainties that emerge within the highly agonistic and dynamic nature of spatial production.       [1] The conceptual spatial triad, as iterated by Henri Lefebvre: space is not a monolith of tangible, physical elements, but rather it exists on different planes of understanding. Those planes are the perceived space (spatial practice), i.e. what one can see and feel around them, the lived space (representational space), which reflects the everydayness, the activities and the social life, and the conceived space (representations of space), i.e. the projections, plans and ideas on how a space could be used. 

Activism as a term illustrating the urban phenomena of citizen mobilisation and direct action(s) towards political, social and environmental change that emerged during the early 20th century (Hornby, 1995). Seen also as a “means of overcoming alienation” (Graeber, 2009, p. 231), numerous forms of activism were significantly influenced by the Situationist International, which advocated the creation of spontaneous, subversive “situations” as a response to the increasing commodification and individualisation of everyday life (Debord, 1992). In this sense, activism can be seen as a means to repoliticise and breathe meaning into an everydayness[1] characterised by passive bystanding and to create instances where people are able to redefine their agency as urban dwellers and political subjects[2] (Graeber, 2009). Design activism has been defined as any practice that “draws attention to change in the context of design through positive experimentation and action, introducing a designerly way of intervening into people’s lives” (Mallo et al., 2020, p. 102). According to Markussen (2013), it reflects the role and potential of various design fields in (1) promoting social change, (2) express values and beliefs in a tangible way and (3) question the systemic constraints that impact people’s daily lives. Due to the rising levels of precarity, caused by the increasing neoliberalisation of politics, policies and everyday life on a global scale (Brown, 2015), design activism in architecture and urban planning (often associated with DIY urbanism) has been gaining traction over the past decades among scholars and practitioners, as a transformative means of renegotiating the role of architecture and planning within the mechanisms of spatial production, as well as reasserting citizens’ agency over their urban environment (Markussen, 2023). Design activism in architecture may operate both symbolically, in order to illustrate and highlight socio-spatial injustice (e.g. Santiago Cirugeda’s[3] insect house) and pragmatically, through the creation (disruptive) of spatial configurations “across a number of people and artefacts” (Mallo et al., 2020, p. 102), in a direct-action manner, with the aim of improving people’s livelihoods. Direct action can be “any collective undertaking that is both political in intent and carried out in the knowledge that it might be met with hostility […]” (Graeber, 2009, p. 359). The element of direct action emphasises both the immersiveness, the astute responsiveness to actual circumstances and the moving away from a general, pre-defined, vague and ultimately co-opted “social good” (Fuad-Luke, 2017), towards a more situated understanding of urban space and people’s needs. Collaborative, “unalienating” acts of urban creativity, connect (architectural) design activism to practices such as participatory design, co-creation and concepts like spatial agency, all of which employ different means to reassert urban dwellers’ position as crucial and indispensable parts in decision-making processes. Scholarly criticisms towards design activism focus on its temporal and experimental nature, which renders quantifying and crystallising the long-term effect on urban landscapes and dwellers difficult (Mallo et al., 2020). Arguably, its situatedness may also pose an obstacle towards the creation of any universal toolkit, strategy or course of action that could be transferable to different contexts and employed to tackle varying circumstances. It remains, however, a vital phenomenon towards fostering agency and a shared sense of citizenship and camaraderie, repoliticising architecture and planning practices, as well as nurturing a culture of working (ant)agonistically towards incremental change in the cities, one intervention at a time.          [1] Georg Simmel described and everydayness where bystanding and lack of concern are primary “symptoms of what he called “blasé attitude”. This term emerged so as to illustrate the overstimulating everydayness of the sprawling capitalist metropolises of the late 19th - early 20th century that renders individuals idle (“The metropolis and mental life”, first published in 1903). Contrary to Simmel, Michel de Certeau posits that individuals operating under imposed regulations and conditions, may find ways to interpret them differently, even subvert them, often by unconsciously utilising systems of socio-cultural references that may deviate from the dominant one(s) (De Certeau, 1984). [2] “A subject develops an understanding of itself as a political subject only by executing decisive political actions” (Calcagno, 2008) [3] More information on this project can be found here: https://unprojects.org.au/article/architecture-on-the-fringes-of-legality-santiago-cirugeda-kyohei-sakaguchi/ & here: https://www.cca.qc.ca/actions/fr/node/82

“Every person who ever had a plan to do anything, and went and did it, or who laid [their] plan before others, and won their co-operation to do it with [them], without going to external authorities to please do the thing for them, was a direct actionist.” (De Cleyre, 2009, p. 2) Overview Direct action is a term encompassing a variety of grassroots and bottom-up initiatives within the urban landscape. It is described as “a mode of disruptive activism” (Smith, 2018, p. 13) with an inherently political intention that may not necessarily be pacifist or legal -therefore likely to “be met with hostility” (Graeber, 2009, p. 359)- and is often associated with anti-capitalist, leftist and anarchist ideologies. Examples of direct action(s) include squatting, occupations, blockades and general strikes, among others (Smith, 2018; Sparrow, 1997). While definitions across activist and academic circles may vary, there is a convergence of opinions that emphasise two primary aspects: (1) direct action always describes a person or group’s own activity to “directly change perceived political, social or environmental injustices” (Doherty et al., 2003, p. 670) without third-party involvement; activities that employ representational and/or mediatory means (eg. lobbying) do not fall under the direct action umbrella (De Cleyre, 2009; Franks, 2003; Pouget, 2009; Smith, 2018; Sparrow, 1997). (2) Direct action is a prefigurative and synecdochic form of action; the action contains a tangible glimpse of the desired future in its end goal, in the methods used to achieve it, and in the identities of those involved in carrying it out (Franks, 2003; Pouget, 2009; Sparrow, 1997). Contrary to symbolic actions which are often contained in showcasing injustices, direct action can take the shape of a practical response and herald the larger vision it foreshadows. Direct action in housing Any direct action that tackles the housing question, operates on the premise that housing is a human right (UN Habitat, 2009), and aims at collectively producing “anti-capitalist housing alternative[s]” (Cattaneo et al., 2014, p. 50), against a backdrop of capitalist/neoliberal enclosures. Housing in this sense is understood as a “commons”, meaning that it is not only a resource that is (re)produced for the benefit of those (re)producing it, but also a “commitment to the creation of collective subjects [and the] fostering of common interests[…]” (Caffentzis & Federici, 2014, p. 103). The process and tactics that support direct actions in housing, could therefore be considered commoning. Hodkinson (2012) recognises 3 interdependent aspects of housing commoning: (1) prefigurative (living-in-common), (2) strategic (housing-as-commons), and (3) counter-hegemonic (circulating the housing commons) commoning. Prefigurative commoning emphasises the desired way of living. It is essentially “try[ing] to meet our housing needs and desires through the creation of non-hierarchical, small-scale, directly democratic, egalitarian and collective forms of housing” (Hodkinson, 2012, p. 438). Strategic commoning refers to the “tactical interventions required to resist enclosure by both defending and creating housing commons as forms of protection against the market” (ibid.). Squatting falls under both of these definitions; it envisions a way of living that exists at the margins of the economic system, while at the same time it resists enclosure by reclaiming the right of equitable access to housing through the appropriation of vacant buildings, albeit in a standalone way. Lastly, counter-hegemonic commoning seeks to develop alliances between different housing movements and mobilisations, so that new forms of housing and living can be negotiated. Housing cooperatives fall under this type of commoning; while they do not directly challenge dominant housing systems, and therefore are not as inherently prefigurative as housing squats, they offer solid “dweller-control” alternatives that function as shields to speculation, financialisation, and market-driven agendas.   Potential and pitfalls Direct actionists bring the shortcomings of neoliberal political agendas into stark relief, both by highlighting injustices, and by providing immediate, practical, albeit often small-scale and precarious responses. Nevertheless, the (commoning) process of planning, executing, and sustaining a direct action, much like any kind of activist endeavour, is a potentially unalienating activity that allows bonds of solidarity to flourish (Graeber, 2009), which, in turn, has the capacity to transform the consciousness of those involved (Sparrow, 1997). The oscillations between legality and illegality, along with the aforementioned transformative potential, may enable the decoupling from what Benjamin Franks calls “prescribed references” (2003, p. 19), i.e. any type of limitation or constraint legally and/or socio-culturally imposed by dominant elites. Finding or creating alternative “references”, may in turn be conceived as “an immediate practical alteration in power relations” (Franks, 2003, p. 32). Criticism towards some aspects of direct action, however, often questions whether it can constitute a justifiable practice. Direct actions which employ violent, coercive or intimidating tactics may clash with the general public’s conception of the rights and obligations of citizens in a democratic society (Smith, 2018). Consequently, direct actions largely fall outside of the “normalised” activist practices spectrum, and often result in creating (in)tangible enclosures, which may fail to generate substantial impact. Conversely, normalising direct action in all its range of tactics and approaches would result in a paradox, since prescribing to externally conceived references would diminish its prefigurative potential. Apart from questions on justifiability and normalisation, there is significant ambiguity regarding the types of methods and tactics employed in direct action, as well as their level of transferability. Since direct action is by definition counter-hegemonic, transferability in this case relates greatly to how power relations operate. Deleuze & Guattari argue that hegemonies operate in inherent situatedness, as they are shaped, sustained and perpetuated through connection and heterogeneity (2005). For direct action tactics to be successfully applied in diverse contexts, a nuanced understanding of contextual differences is vital. Finally, while Voltairine de Cleyre’s definition may seem vague and all-encompassing, it highlights perhaps the most crucial aspect of direct action; the emancipatory potential of unmediated action on one’s own behalf.

Defining deliberative democracy  Deliberative democracy is a form of democracy that emphasizes the role of discussion and deliberation in the decision-making process. Unlike traditional democratic models that prioritize voting and the aggregation of preferences, deliberative democracy focuses on the quality and process of debate among citizens. The core idea is that through reasoned argument, dialogue, and the exchange of ideas, participants can reach more informed, reflective, and legitimate decisions. In a deliberative democracy, participants are encouraged to engage in discussions that are open, equal, and inclusive. This means that all participants have an equal opportunity to speak, be heard, and influence the outcome. The deliberative process typically involves several key components. Key components of deliberative democracy Inclusiveness: Ensures that all those affected by a decision have the opportunity to participate in the deliberation, including marginalized and minority voices (Rasmussen, 1994). Reason-giving: Expects participants to provide reasons for their positions and engage with the reasons provided by others, fostering understanding, social learning, and respect. Respect and civility: Essential requirements for a respectful and civil exchange of ideas, listening to each other, and refraining from personal attacks. Informed and rational discourse: Encourages participants to have access to relevant information and engage in critical thinking to evaluate different arguments. Consensus-orientation: Despite possible conflicting and plurality of views and values on the issue under scrutiny it is crucial to reach decisions that reconcile and are acceptable to all participants, or at least to the majority, while respecting minority opinions. It therefore has transformative potential. Deliberative democracy aims to harness the "forceless force of the better argument" (Habermas, 1975, 108) in an environment that is tolerant of dissent. It can take various forms, including citizens' assemblies, deliberative polls, and participatory budgeting, designed to facilitate structured and meaningful dialogue among diverse groups of people. This approach helps form a “we-perspective” (Rostbøll, 2008). Positioning deliberative democracy If we were to position deliberative democracy within the spectrum of existing democratic models (see image 1), it would likely fall between direct democracy and representative democracy. Direct democracy aims to include an impractically large number of participants, while representative democracy often creates significant distances between representatives and those they represent. For Habermas, the essence of democracy lies in discourse (Habermas, 1996), rejecting the utilitarian approach. A deliberative approach does not need to ignore the practicalities of representative democracy but can address the “imbalance between the vertical and the horizontal dimensions of democracy” (Hansen et al., 2016). The guiding principles of deliberative democracy Deliberative democracy finds its guiding principles in discursive ethics as it prioritizes reasoned dialogue and inclusive discourse to achieve collective decision-making that respects the inherent worth and equality of all participants. Both Habermas and Dryzek emphasize that ethical discourse and rational deliberation are essential for achieving mutual understanding and consensus in democratic processes. Habermas is a central figure in developing the theory of discourse ethics, which forms the philosophical foundation for his concept of deliberative democracy. One key aspect is communicative rationality. Habermas’s concept of communicative rationality emphasizes the role of reasoned discourse in achieving mutual understanding and consensus. In ´The Theory of Communicative Action´(1984), Habermas argues that democratic legitimacy arises from free and open dialogue where participants justify their claims through rational arguments. This idea is essential for deliberative democracy, which relies on inclusive and reasoned discussion to make collective decisions. It was Habermas who introduced the notion of the ideal speech situation (1983), where communication is free from coercion and participants have equal opportunities to speak and be heard. This ideal situation is crucial for ethical discourse, ensuring that decisions are reached through fair and unbiased deliberation. In his work (Between Facts and Norms, 1996), Habermas connects discourse ethics directly to democratic theory by arguing that legitimate laws and policies must be justified through public deliberation. He contends that the legitimacy of democratic decisions hinges on the quality of the deliberative process, aligning with the core principles of deliberative democracy. John Dryzek extends Habermas's ideas, emphasizing practical and inclusive aspects of deliberative democracy. He argues that legitimate democratic decision-making requires incorporating diverse discourses and perspectives (1990). He builds on Habermas's idea of communicative rationality, advocating for a democracy that is open to multiple forms of communication and expression, thus ensuring a more inclusive and representative deliberative process. Dryzek (2006) argues for the empowerment of marginalized voices in deliberative processes. He stresses that genuine deliberative democracy must engage all affected individuals, reflecting Habermas’s ethical concern for inclusivity and equality in discourse. Additionally, Dryzek (2010) focuses on the practical aspects of implementing deliberative democracy. He discusses real-world applications and challenges, drawing from Habermas’s theoretical framework but adapting it to diverse political contexts. Dryzek emphasizes the importance of creating institutional arrangements that facilitate effective and fair deliberation. Both Habermas and Dryzek see discourse ethics as integral to the functioning of deliberative democracy. Habermas provides the theoretical and ethical groundwork, while Dryzek offers practical insights and adaptations for real-world democratic practices. Together, they underscore the importance of rational, inclusive, and ethical deliberation in achieving democratic legitimacy. The relevance of deliberative democracy in affordable and sustainable housing  Deliberative democracy is particularly relevant to the development of affordable and sustainable housing policies. Housing issues are complex and multifaceted, involving economic, social, environmental, and political dimensions. A deliberative approach to housing policy can address these complexities in several ways. By including a wide range of stakeholders—residents, developers, policymakers, and community organizations—deliberative processes ensure that the voices of those most affected by housing decisions are heard. This inclusivity can lead to more equitable and just outcomes. Deliberative democracy emphasizes the importance of reasoned debate and evidence-based decision-making, which is crucial in housing policy where decisions need to balance affordability with sustainability, and economic feasibility with social equity. Achieving consensus can help build broad-based support and legitimacy for the resulting policies, particularly important in contentious areas such as land use planning, zoning regulations, and the allocation of resources for housing development. The deliberative process encourages creative problem-solving by bringing together diverse perspectives, leading to innovative solutions that might not emerge from more traditional, top-down decision-making processes. Especially when it comes to issues that have a direct and significant impact on everyone's lives, such as housing policy. Decision-making should not just fall into the remit of technocrats and politicians. The housing question should be opened up to public deliberation, as has happened in other spheres of urban planning and governance with experiences like participatory budgeting in Belo Horizonte or Porto Alegre (Baiocchi, 2005; Cabannes, 2004; Melo & Baiocchi, 2006). Deliberative democracy and public reasoning can be used as a means for more representative and equitable housing-led regeneration processes to ensure that projects are in the best interests of those directly affected and maximise social value. The democratisation of housing management can also be attained by incorporating the principles of deliberative democracy. Giving tenants more control over decision-making can have a transformative impact on the long-term sustainability of housing schemes. Sustainable housing requires long-term thinking, and deliberative democracy fosters a more holistic approach to policy-making, planning and building, taking into account the long-term consequences of decisions and the need for sustainable development. Possible implementation in the housing landscape Clapham & Foye (2019) identify three levels in which deliberative democracy can be a powerful tool to facilitate housing-related decision-making processes and evaluate housing outcomes: Dwelling scale: Standards developed to set minimum qualities of the housing stock should incorporate a component informed by bottom-up consultation that incorporates residents’ views on what constitutes a decent home. In this way, publicly discussed aspirations and needs are brought together with more quantitative and technical considerations. One example of this is the Living Home Standard, developed by Shelter (2016) following a broad consultation process in which hundreds of members of the public were convened in focus groups and workshops to define what a home means and to identify its key and most valuable elements. In doing so, the process provided the elements necessary for a meaningful exchange, public discussion and debate between participants, in which diverse viewpoints were included. Neighbourhood scale: In his reflections on the ideal size of a city, Aristotle determined a roughly appropriate size based on various characteristics that would ensure its self-sufficiency. Just as important as having access to resources, in his view, was the successful administration of a city, which had to be linked to democratic processes and wellbeing considerations (Lianos, 2016). In such an arrangement, the debate is direct, open and face-to-face. In modern-day terms, at the neighbourhood level, the local context enables a type of relationship between citizens and the city in which they recognise themselves and have a tangible interest in the issues under discussion because it is at the local scale where consequences of ill-considered decisions can have a greater impact. Sennett (2018) identifies similar characteristics in Jane Jacobs’ understanding of a well-functioning neighbourhood as the generative unit of a vibrant and thriving city. In this case, direct democracy practised at the neighbourhood level would constitute, by addition of the parts, a more democratic city. At this level, the relevant stakeholders are expected to play an active role in the participation process because of their attachment to the place. Examples include neighbourhood renewal processes, urban planning and development projects, refurbishment of housing estates or the creation of a local plan. National scale: Although often seen as terrain for more vertical forms of democratic arrangements such as representative democracy, Clapham & Foye (2019) propose deliberative democratic forums held at a national level to discuss highly political issues around housing, such as property tax relief, lad value tax abatements, house price inflation, rent reform, etc. This view aligns with that of Marcuse & Madden (2016), who call for the democratisation of the housing system as a necessary step in devising transformative solutions to the housing crisis worldwide. In order to rebalance the existing power relations, decision-making control should be handed over to those who are “the true experts on their own housing” (p.212), i.e. to those who are oppressed by the current system. A process that relies on a truly democratised housing system, i.e. a system that is open and inclusive enough to allow for broader democratic scrutiny and ensure that the input of non-experts and historically disempowered communities is accounted for. In summary, deliberative democracy provides a framework for developing a housing system that is not only affordable and sustainable but also inclusive, equitable, and widely supported by the community. By fostering open, informed, and respectful dialogue, deliberative processes can lead to more effective and legitimate housing solutions that meet the diverse needs of society.  

The term third place was coined by the urban sociologist Ray Oldenburg in his book The Great Good Place (1999). According to Oldenburg, “The third place is a generic designation of a great variety of public places that host the regular, voluntary, informal, and happily anticipated gatherings of individuals beyond the realms of the home and work.” (1999, p.16). Therefore, third places are central to the process of creating a sense of place by facilitating informal encounters and gatherings and thus becoming the centrepiece of communities and a cohesive society. They can also be a remedy to combat the deepening sense of loneliness and alienation in modern-day cities. The third place owes its name to the existence of the first and second place. Oldenburg contends that individuals have at least two places associated with two types of activity, the first, dwelling, associated to our home, and the second, our work or study place. The third place is therefore linked to leisure activities. These places are anchor points of communities because they enable social activities to take place by providing opportunities for people to meet or make acquaintances in an informal and organic manner. For third places to attain their social function, they should be easily accessible, inexpensive and inclusive. Therefore, they need to be in close proximity to homes in a location that ensures easy access for as many residents as possible. Since they cater for a local clientele, it could be said that they become the glue that keep communities together as they reinforce the sense of connectedness. Third place create communities by allowing serendipitous encounters to happen over time..  In the third place the many comings and goings create acquaintances among neighbours and are the seeds of community life. They are the neutral ground upon which people may gather. This neutrality allows those encounters to happen in a more organic fashion. They offer the opportunity for these interactions to materialise but it is up to the community members to actually make use of them. It could be said that the third place is the backdrop of Gehl’s (2011) optimal and social activities described in his seminal book Life Between Buildings: Optimal: These are completely voluntary activities. As these are often leisure activities, the built environment plays a crucial role in deciding whether to participate in them. Going for a walk, spending time outdoors, connecting with nature, relaxing while sunbathing, etc. are examples of activities that fall into this category. “In streets and city spaces of poor quality, only the bare minimum of activity takes place. People hurry home” (Gehl, 2011, p. 11). Social: These are the resulting activities that rely on the presence or interaction with others, in this context, in the public space. They range from passive encounters with others, like hearing or watching people or greeting our neighbour, to more interesting and complex scenarios that involve our active participation, such as playing or engaging in conversation. They can be spontaneous or planned and, as the optimal activities, are heavily influenced by the spatial qualities of the built environment.       Oldenburg identifies three realms of experience: “One is domestic, a second is gainful and productive, and the third is inclusively sociable, offering both the basis of community and the celebration of it” (p.293). He goes on to explain: “Each of these realms of human experience is built on associations and relationships appropriate to it; each has its own physically separate and distinct places; each must have its measure of autonomy from the others.” In this case, it is important to note the role of physical space, which acts as a reservoir for activities and relationships. This aspect resonates with Christopher Alexander’s (1979)  and Herman Hertzberger’s (1991) views on the importance of physical spaces, or ‘core settings’ as Oldenburg calls them, that anchor social interactions and events, as well as with Klinenberg's (2018) argument for a social infrastructure and the need for adequate spaces for meetings and relationship building. However, it is also worth noting that in today's world - increasingly after the COVID-19 pandemic - the distinction between work and home spaces is blurred. Perhaps the third space is the only one of the three that, although affected by alternative ways of socialising that no longer rely exclusively on sharing the same physical space, remains relevant for community building - and was even revitalised after the lockdown measures were lifted. Regarding the location of third places We can probably all think of a third place in our neighbourhood, for they seem to exist independently of cultural differences and local contexts. They may change in form and purpose, but not in their social function. Examples range from pubs, cafés, bars, places of worship, public libraries, community centres, parks, bookshops, gyms and so on. Oldenburg also identifies this feature by recognising common patterns shared by different third places in different cultures: “The eternal sameness of the third place overshadows the variations in its outward appearance and seems unaffected by the wide differences in cultural attitudes toward the typical gathering places of informal public life” (Oldenburg, 1999, p. 20). The relationship that exists between the space and the activities it harbours is open and allows for a plethora of spatial configurations as long as its structural elements are guaranteed. Perhaps the third places function as polyvalent, flexible spaces which, according to the observations of Hertzberger (1963), can generate their own programme due to the openness of their spatial characteristics. Whether third places can be created by design decisions alone is debatable. What is clear, however, is that places are more likely to become third places if they fulfil certain conditions. One very important requirement is that they are easy to reach and have a local catchment area: “Where informal gathering places are far removed from one’s residence, their appeal fades, for two reasons. Getting there is inconvenient, and one is not likely to know the patrons.” (p.33). Third places work better at the neighbourhood level and therefore cater for a local clientele who live within walking distance. The journey to a third place should not take much time, so they can have great potential when integrated into the housing block. After decades of research into social life in urban spaces, Gehl (2011) underscores the significance of the strategic placement of communal spaces within housing developments and stresses the relevance of creating optimal distance and legibility of the layout for their success. In his words: "Those who live nearest to the library and who can get there most easily also borrow the most books" (2011, p. 115). This principle holds true for any kind of third place or social infrastructure in the local area. Other sociologists have come to similar conclusions when examining the role of space in the formation of social ties. Small & Adler (2019) have emphasised the importance of so-called 'fixed spaces' in creating opportunities for interaction. Simmel (1997, p. 47) also emphasises the importance of these fixed places as ‘pivot points’ for social interaction and the formation of bonds. The experience of a third place In a third place, interactions are characterised by the perception of fairness, at least between patrons, in an environment where power dynamics are balanced - Oldenburg refers to them as levellers. A third place is perceived as a place that belongs to all and where everyone is welcomed. This is possible because third places are seen as neutral grounds where people can come and go as they please. This is different from inviting someone to your home or being invited to someone else’s home. In this case, Oldenburg says, the balance of power in the private sphere can be asymmetrical due to the dynamics inherent in the domestic space, where one is the host and the other is the guest. Similarly, they convey a sense of ownership to those who become regulars. “[A]ppropriation, or a sense of possession and control over a setting that need not entail actual ownership” (Oldenburg, 1999, p.40). As already mentioned, this process takes time and is facilitated by familiarity with the place and the patrons after several visits. Third places are often run or frequented by ‘self-appointed public characters’. Oldenburg draws on Jane Jacobs’ description of this type of community member. For Jacobs (1961), their relevance lie in the fact that it is with them that “the social structure of sidewalk life hangs partly on” (p.68). Both authors agree on their value for the development of social life in a neighbourhood. The ‘public character’, someone who is in frequent contact with a wide range of people in the community, needs a place to associate with, and for Oldenburg, this is the third place. Jacobs agrees with this observation: sidewalk life “arises only when the concrete, tangible facilities it requires are present. These happen to be the same facilities, in the same abundance and ubiquity, that are required for cultivating sidewalk safety. If they are absent, public sidewalk contacts are absent too” (p.70), indicating their polyfunctionality. One could say that third places correspond well with Jacobs’ preference for slow-paced urban development. Functions of third places Oldenburg was concerned about the gradual but consistent disappearance of informal gathering places. A process provoked by the spread of monofunctional neighbourhoods and the segregation of uses promoted by modernist urban planning. As a result, mass housing programmes and suburban developments (most notoriously the American suburbia) were failing to provide places where community life could flourish. A process that was further exacerbated by the resulting fragmentation of cities by dull urban planning and uninspired design, centred on profit-making and Fordist means of production, which were very characteristic of the post-war housing endeavour in the second half of the XX century. In Oldenberg’s view, one possible solution to the 'problem of place in America’ was to champion the third place. Although his proposal is context-specific, the problems he describes can also be attested outside the USA. Social isolation and loneliness are prevalent around the world and have alarming effects on our mental and physical wellbeing. The World Health Organisation (WHO) estimates that the problem affects all age groups, with comparable incidence rates in low-, middle- and high-income countries (WHO, 2024). A physical place that enables contact in the first place can have a major impact on community life, and Oldenburg has pointed out some of its most important functions: As they are the anchor points of social life in neighbourhoods, they help to unite and create a sense of identity. They also facilitate contact between people with similar interests or shared struggles, a process that can lead to meaningful relationships. Similarly, they can help newcomers to integrate and gain useful information and contacts in the local area. In the same vein, Oldenburg points out that third places can facilitate aid, support and cooperation in emergencies or disasters and increase the community's resilience to shocks. This characteristic was also highlighted by Klinenberg (2015) when studying the aftermath of the 1995 Chicago heatwave and further elaborated and detailed in his more recent book Palaces for the People (2018), which looks at the pivotal role of social infrastructure in creating liveable and resilient neighbourhoods.  

Financial wellbeing is an emerging concept with valyrious definitions, many of which focus on the financial capabilities of individuals. A household's financial wellbeing encompasses its capacity to comfortably meet current and ongoing financial responsibilities, fostering a sense of security about future obligations while enjoying the ability to make life choices (Aubrey et al., 2022). Riitsalu et al. (2023) describe it as "feeling good about one's personal financial situation and being able to afford a desirable lifestyle both now and in the future" (p.2). Brüggen et al. (2017:229) frame it as "the perception of being able to sustain current and anticipated desired living standards and financial freedom." This perception highlights the robust link of financial wellbeing influencing human wellbeing, which is a combination of "feeling good and functioning well" (Ruggeri et al., 2020:1). Other terminologies are used interchangeably to describe financial wellbeing, including financial health, financial resilience, and financial freedom (Riitsalu et al., 2023).     In the UK, the public health sector cares to raise awareness of financial wellbeing due to its impact on households' health and populations' productivity. On their official website page on Financial Wellbeing, they used the definition by The Money and Pension Service (Gov.UK, 2022: online) as follows:   "Feeling secure and in control of your finances, both now and in the future. It's knowing that you can pay the bills today, can deal with the unexpected, and are on track for a healthy financial future."   These explanations and the terminology used, including "afford" and "sustain," underscore the interconnections between financial wellbeing and the vital components of household life. These components encompass mental health, productivity, and pursuing economic sustainability in the present and future. Therefore, a household's financial wellbeing is pressured by various housing-related factors, including the costs of renting or buying and non-housing costs like utility bills and repairs, all of which can affect the household's income.   The issue of rising housing costs directly undermines financial wellbeing. This trend can be attributed to several factors, including increased construction costs, labour shortages, and rising material prices (Brysch & Czischke, 2021). Furthermore, there is a notable shortage in affordable and social housing supply (Emekci, 2021; Gov.UK, 2022). This scarcity is partly due to decreased public investment in new dwellings (Housing Europe, 2021; OECD, 2020). This issue further burdens low-income households who face high private rental costs and a gradual reduction in housing benefits (Tinson & Clair, 2020).   This issue also leads many households to cut back on essential needs. For instance, interviews with social housing residents in Scotland with low to modest incomes revealed a tendency to prioritize rent payments over other necessities, such as food and heating (Garnham et al., 2022). Similarly, Adabre and Chan (2019), , citing Salvi del Pero et al. (2016), warned that:   "Households who are overburdened by housing cost may cut back on other important needs such as health care and diet. Besides, in the medium term, households may trade-off costs for lower quality housing such as smaller size of rooms and housing in poorer locations which lack better access to education and other social amenities. The latter has often been cited as the cause of residential segregation."   Another financial burden is non-housing costs involving energy costs for heating (AHC, 2019; Stone et al., 2011). According to Lee et al. (2022), this issue persists, contributing to financial strain and even excess winter deaths in the UK. Poor housing quality raises energy bills (AHC, 2019; Lameira et al., 2022). It presents the risk of considering dwellings as affordable due to local authority support focusing on housing costs alone (Granath Hansson & Lundgren, 2019), regardless of its quality impacting energy bills (OECD, 2020). Social housing residents, particularly the ageing population and those living in poverty are at increased risk of fuel poverty (Tu et al., 2022). Fuel poverty occurs when more than 10% of a household's income goes towards energy consumption for heating (Howden-Chapman et al., 2012).   Looking forward, two factors could continue burdening households’ financial wellbeing. One factor is the fluctuating energy prices that are often increasing, such as the case in the UK (Bolton, 2024). Another factor is the impact of climate change, leading to colder winters and the potential for overheating, increasing energy demand during extreme weather conditions, as warned by the Committee of Climate Change in the UK (Holmes et al., 2019).   Non-housing costs associated with extensive housing repairs can also impact household financial wellbeing, which may arise from several factors. For instance, selecting low-quality construction materials, workforce or equipment to reduce construction costs might lead to increased repair costs over time (Emekci, 2021). Hopkin et al. (2017) highlighted a related issue in England, where new housing defects were believed to be partly attributed to the building industry's prioritization of profitability over customer satisfaction. Another factor could be improper periodic maintenance, potentially accelerating the physical deterioration of the dwelling (Kwon et al., 2020). Additionally, dwellings may fall into disrepair due to unresponsive maintenance services from housing providers, and residents may lack the financial means to cover repair costs themselves (Garnham et al., 2022).     Financial wellbeing is closely tied to household income. Low-income households are particularly vulnerable to being burdened by rising housing costs (Housing Europe, 2021; OECD, 2020), leading to financial insecurity (Hick et al., 2022). In addition, they might suffer housing deprivation due to the increasing housing and non-housing expenses coupled with their declining incomes (Emekci, 2021; Wilson & Barton, 2018). The financial pressure due to low income is further exacerbated if a household member has a disability or severe illness, potentially consuming up to 35% of their income (AHC, 2019). Recently, the COVID-19 pandemic period highlighted households' financial wellbeing vulnerability to housing-related financial challenges (Brandily et al., 2020; Hick et al., 2022; National Housing Federation, 2020). During this period, job losses led to difficulties covering housing and non-housing costs, with a third of low-income social housing residents burdened by housing costs (OECD, 2020).   The issues discussed above on dwellings being of poor quality or unaffordable harm financial wellbeing, leading to residential segregation (Adabre & Chan, 2019; Salvi del Pero et al., 2016) as well as intensifying gaps of social injustice, health injustice, poverty, and fuel poverty (Barker, 2020; Garnham et al., 2022). Without addressing those housing-related issues, many households' financial wellbeing would remain vulnerable to economic insecurity even if they live in housing considered to be "affordable" in terms of rent-to-income ratio.