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vi  Contents

8.0 Urban Redevelopment: Introduction 325

8.1 Urban Regeneration in a Mid-sized City: A New Vision for

Downtown Sudbury 328
Alison Bain and Ross Burnett

8.2 After “Ours”: Creating a Sense of Ownership in Winnipeg’s

Downtown Plan 339
Gerald H. Couture

8.3 The Quartier des Spectacles, Montreal 348

Laurie Loison and Raphaël Fischler

8.4 Places to Grow: A Case Study in Regional Planning in a Rapidly

Growing Urban Context 361
Jason Thorne

9.0 Transportation and Infrastructure: Introduction 370

9.1 The Death and Life of “Transit City”: Searching for Sustainable
Transportation in Toronto’s Inner Suburbs 374
Anna Kramer and Christian Mettke

9.2 Declining Infrastructure and Its Opportunities: Gardiner East

Environmental Assessment 384
Antonio Medeiros

9.3 Hamilton’s Red Hill Valley Parkway: Fifty-Seven Years in the Making 396
Walter G. Peace

9.4 Travel Demand Management and GHG Emission Reductions:

Meeting Multiple Objectives through Partnerships and Multi-Level
Co-ordination405
Ugo Lachapelle

Suggestions for Further Reading 415

Glossary422

Index433
Contributors

Leonora Angeles, p hd , is an associate professor at the School of Community and

Regional Planning and the Women’s and Gender Studies Undergraduate Program at the
University of British Columbia.

Umbreen Ashraf is a p hd candidate at the Interdisciplinary Studies Graduate Program

(isgp ) at the University of British Columbia. She has examined the pedagogical poten-
tial of the City of Vancouver’s Dialogues Project since 2011 and participated in some of
the project initiatives over the years.

Alison Bain, p hd , is an associate professor of Geography at York University and does

research on cultural planning in Canadian cities and suburbs. Creative Margins: Cultural
Production in Canadian Suburbs (2013) is her most recent book.

Janice Barry, p hd , is an assistant professor of City Planning at the University of

Manitoba. Her ongoing research and teaching interests include Indigenous peoples’ rela-
tionships to land-use planning, and the Central Coast Land and Resource Management
Plan was the subject of her p hd dissertation. She also provided volunteer planning sup-
port to the Nanwakolas Council while conducting her doctoral research.

Jeff Biggar is a p hd candidate in planning in the Department of Geography at the

University of Toronto. Jeff ’s research interests span a variety of topics: the relationships
between planning policy, law, the built environment, urban design, the public realm,
cultural and community planning. The big issue driving his research and practice is how
to make more equitable and imaginative cities.

Natasha Blanchet-Cohen, p hd , is a professor in the Department of Applied Human

Sciences at Concordia University. Her research centres on community youth develop-
ment with a focus on rights-based approaches to programs and services, culture, and
eco-citizenship.

Lisa Brideau was one of the city planners involved in designing the Greenest City pub-
lic engagement process, including advocating for the use of an online forum. She has
an ms c in planning from the University of British Columbia and is currently a sustain-
ability specialist for the City of Vancouver, where one of her duties is to manage the
Greenest City’s ongoing social media outreach.
viii  Contributors

Cal Brook is an architect and planner and a principal of Brook McIlroy with more than
30 years of experience. Cal was the principal-in-charge and the primary author of the
Toronto Avenues and Mid-Rise Buildings Project.

Jason R. Burke holds a p hd in planning from the University of Toronto and is cur-
rently a senior policy advisor at the Ministry of Municipal Affairs and Housing of the
Government of Ontario. His work on the planning of the US Embassy in Ottawa com-
plements his doctoral research on the history of security planning in Canadian cities.

Ross Burnett is a senior planner at Infrastructure Ontario, responsible for implementing

development opportunities and maximizing provincial real estate assets. While working
in the private sector as a planning associate, Ross was the project manager and lead
planner for the Downtown Sudbury Master Plan.

Michaela Cochran is a planner in Edmonton. She has a masters of planning degree

from Dalhousie University, where she conducted research to assess the social vulnerabil-
ity of Yarmouth and Lunenburg through the Dalhousie Climate Change Working Group.

Gerald H. Couture is president of Urban Edge Consulting, a firm he established in 2007

following a 20-year career with the City of Winnipeg. Gerry was project manager for
Winnipeg’s CentrePlan, which was initiated in March 1993 and completed in January
1995.

Michael DeRuyter holds degrees in journalism and public administration from Ryerson
University. He is a policy analyst for the Ministry of Transportation in Ontario.

Margaret Eberle, rpp , mcip , is currently a housing planner with Metro Vancouver. She
was previously a housing policy consultant working with a range of government and
non-governmental organizations on affordable housing policy and planning initiatives
in BC.

Raphaël Fischler, p hd , is director of the School of Urban Planning at McGill University.

His research and teaching pertain to urban design and land development, land-use
planning and regulation, and the history and theory of planning.

John Foster, rpp , mcip , is manager of community social development in the City of
Richmond Community Services Department.

Penny Gurstein, p hd , is a professor and director of the School of Community and

Regional Planning at the University of British Columbia. Her current research focus
is on affordable housing strategies. Previous research focused on the impact of govern-
ment reduction of social services on single-parent families on income assistance, from
which the Vancouver case study derived.

Kari Huhtala, mcip, rpp , has more than 25 years’ experience as a municipal plan-
ner with the cities of Vancouver and Richmond and the Corporation of Delta. Since
2006, he has been an arts and cultural consultant working with communities and the
development industry in western Canada. Kari was the planning consultant involved
 Contributors  ix

in the development of the City of Kelowna “Thriving Engaging Inspiring” 2012–17

Cultural Plan.

Laura C. Johnson, p hd , rpp , is a professor at the School of Planning, University of

Waterloo. Her teaching and research relate to housing, social planning, social research
methods, and participatory planning. Since 2007, she and her students have been con-
ducting a longitudinal qualitative research project tracking the first phase as residents of
Toronto’s Regent Park public housing go through the stages of displacement, relocation,
and resettlement while the community is redeveloped.

Luna Khirfan is an associate professor at the School of Planning, University of Waterloo.

She received her p hd in urban and regional planning from the University of Michigan
in 2007. She investigates the cross-national transfer of planning knowledge, urban
governance in Middle Eastern cities, and challenges that face historical cities as they
adapt to meet the contemporary needs of their residents and to mitigate the pressures
of tourism.

Kate Kittredge has a masters degree in Indigenous community planning from the
School of Community and Regional Planning at the University of British Columbia and
is working for a remote First Nation in northern British Columbia as the manager of
their Health and Social Department. She has examined the pedagogical potential of the
City of Vancouver’s Dialogues Project since 2011 and participated in some of the project
initiatives over the years.

Anna Kramer completed her p hd at the University of Waterloo with a dissertation on

housing affordability in relation to public transit in North American cities. She currently
works at Metrolinx in Toronto.

Ugo Lachapelle, p hd , is an assistant professor in the Urban Studies Department of the

Université du Québec à Montréal and works on sustainable transport strategies, policies,
and programs. He acts as a scientific advisor to the aqlpa and has completed a number
of studies and contracts on vehicle-recycling and modal transfer with the organization.

Donald Leffers is a p hd candidate at York University in Toronto studying the power and
politics of urban land-use planning and development. He was the primary researcher in
the Ottawa case study.

Laurie Loison is a planner at epa orsa , France. She is a graduate of Science Po in Paris
and of the School of Urban Planning at McGill University. Her research on the Quartier
des spectacles earned her the Cornelia and Peter Oberlander Prize in Urban Design.

Ann McAfee, p hd , fcip, rpp , was responsible for Vancouver’s housing programs
from 1974 to 1988 and co-director of planning from 1994 to 2006, including guid-
ing the extensive public process leading to the adoption of CityPlan, Vancouver’s
first city-wide plan since 1930. She established City Choices Consulting, a firm spe-
cializing in strategic planning and public processes, in 2006. In 2007, she received
the Kevin Lynch Award for Distinguished Planning Practice from the Massachusetts
Institute of Technology.
x  Contributors

Antonio Medeiros leads urban development, transportation, and infrastructure pro-

jects from inception to delivery with experience in Canada, the United States, and Asia.
While at Waterfront Toronto he managed the Gardiner Expressway East Environmental
Assessment through the spring of 2015. Antonio holds a master’s degree in urban plan-
ning from Harvard University where he focused on real estate development, affordable
housing delivery and public/private partnerships.

Christian Mettke is a phd candidate in the area of spatial and infrastructure planning
at the Technische Universität Darmstadt in Germany. His thesis compares the socio-­
technological trajectories of Toronto’s and Frankfurt’s public transit systems in the c­ ontext
of post-suburbanization. He spent a year at York University’s City Institute in Toronto
and interviewed many of the key decision-makers involved in public transit provision.

Amanda Mitchell is the public engagement specialist at the City of Vancouver, where
she acts as a best practice advisor to staff throughout the City. During the Greenest City
public engagement process, Amanda moderated the online forum, managed the social
media accounts, and produced the larger public events. Amanda has a masa from the
University of British Columbia, is one of the founding directors of the Vancouver Public
Space Network, and is a co-founder of Re:place Magazine (now Spacing Vancouver).

Jenna Mouck is the principal project director at SaskBuilds Corporation. She has pre-
viously worked in private-sector development as well as in other capacities within the
Saskatchewan government, including with the Ministries of Environment and Health
and the Housing Division’s program and policy development branch. Her work in the
Housing Division involved planning for housing at the provincial level as well as devel-
oping and administering the Summit Action Fund.

Walter G. Peace, p hd , recently retired from his position as associate professor in the
School of Geography and Earth Sciences at McMaster University, where for 35 years he
taught courses in human geography, the history of cartography, the regional geography
of Canada, and urban planning. He has written numerous articles and book contribu-
tions about Hamilton’s history; his edited book, From Mountain to Lake: The Red Hill
Creek Valley, was published in 1998.

Darha Phillpot is the manager of the Land Use Planning Unit in the newly created
Department of Lands with the Government of the Northwest Territories. She is a plan-
ner and a long-term Northerner. She worked for the Mackenzie Valley Environmental
Impact Review Board on one of the environmental assessments in the Drybones Bay
area.

Matt Reid is a planner, urban designer, and project manager at Brook McIlroy in
Toronto. Matt was involved in the background review and site analysis for the Toronto
Avenues and Mid-Rise Buildings Project.

Pamela Robinson, p hd , is an associate professor and graduate program director at

Ryerson’s School of Urban and Regional Planning. She began her planning career near
Kingston, Ontario, working on an Official Plan review. This project sparked a career-long
interest in exploring new ways for planners to engage the public.
 Contributors  xi

Beverly Sandalack, p hd , fcsla, mcip, rpp , is associate dean (academic) in the

Faculty of Environmental Design at the University of Calgary. She is research leader of
the Urban Lab, which completed the Benalto Community Plan and Urban Design Plan.

Timothy Shah is a planner with Stantec Consulting in the area of environmental and
socio-economic planning. In his masters degree in community and regional planning,
he interviewed staff and other stakeholders involved in the District of Elkford’s climate
change adaptation planning process. The results of these interviews helped him to build
a framework for local climate change adaptation planning, which he turned into his
masters project.

Olga Shcherbyna has a ms c in planning from the University of British Columbia. She
is a senior consultant at Diversity Clues Consulting Inc., a Vancouver-based company
specializing in social policy development, project management, and community/ethnic
outreach.

Leslie Shieh, p hd , is the co-founder of Take Root, a development firm specializing in

adaptive re-use. She holds a doctorate in urban planning from the University of British
Columbia and was the project planner in the redevelopment of the Westminster Quay
public market.

Todd Slack is a long-serving regulatory specialist with the Yellowknives Dene First
Nation, the sole staff member for a First Nation with a traditional territory larger than
New Brunswick containing four diamond mines, two metal mines in final permitting,
and associated exploration activities—all of which is occurring during a very large and
very rapid decline in caribou populations, changing land-use patterns, and an absence
of land-use planning. He has worked on three of the seven environmental assessments
in Drybones Bay.

Ren Thomas, p hd , is a research and planning consultant in Toronto. Her recent work
includes policy analysis for the Ontario Growth Secretariat, housing research for the
Ministry of Municipal Affairs and Housing, research on transit-oriented development
for the University of Amsterdam, and program evaluation for the British Columbia Non-
Profit Housing Association and the Elizabeth Fry Society of Greater Vancouver.

Jason Thorne worked at the Ontario Growth Secretariat from 2004 to 2008, where he
was one of the primary architects of the Growth Plan for the Greater Golden Horseshoe.
He then worked as a principal with the Toronto-based urban planning and design firm
planningAlliance and currently leads the Department of City Planning and Economic
Development of the City of Hamilton.

Juan Torres, p hd , is a certified planner and professor in the École d’urbanisme et

d’architecture de paysage (School of Urban Planning and Landscape Architecture) at
l’Université de Montréal. He was part of the multidisciplinary team collaborating with
Sainte-Julie’s municipal staff in 2011, supported by Carrefour action municipal et famille.

Sasha Tsenkova, p hd , is a professor of planning and international development at the

University of Calgary. Her research focuses on sustainable community planning and
xii  Contributors

comparative housing policy. She carried out the first evaluation of the energy retrofit
program in Canada presented in the chapter.

Magdalena Ugarte is a p hd candidate at the School of Community and Regional

Planning (scarp ) at the University of British Columbia. She has examined the peda-
gogical potential of the City of Vancouver’s Dialogues Project since 2011 and partici-
pated in some of the project initiatives over the years.

Francisco Alaniz Uribe is a p hd candidate and research associate in the in the Faculty
of Environmental Design at the University of Calgary. He co-manages The Urban Lab.

Silvia Vilches, p hd , is a postdoctoral researcher at the University of Victoria. Her p hd

research, involving a three-year research process with female lone parents in Vancouver,
formed the basis of her case study.

James T. White, p hd , is a lecturer in urban design at the University of Glasgow and

specializes in the tools that planners can use to make more design-sensitive decisions.
He examined the case of the East Bayfront precinct planning process on Toronto’s
waterfront.

Kyle Whitfield, p hd , mcip, rpp , is an associate professor in the Faculty of Extension

at the University of Alberta. She teaches courses and conducts research related to com-
munity planning and health service planning.

Zhixi Cecilia Zhuang, p hd , is an assistant professor at the School of Urban and

Regional Planning at Ryerson University. She has been conducting research in the
Greater Toronto Area on suburban ethnic retailing and its implications for municipal
planning.

Marla Zucht is the general manager of the Whistler Housing Authority, a subsidiary of
the Resort Municipality of Whistler. She holds a masters degree in environmental stud-
ies and community planning from York University and has long-standing interests as a
planner in housing policies, growth management strategies, and sustainable planning.
Preface

C ommunity and regional planning is a discipline rooted in concerns about cit-

ies. From their physical forms and environmental conditions to their economic
development and socio-cultural networks, there are few aspects of living in human
settlements that planners have not attempted to improve. Policies and programs
designed to improve quality of life, regulate growth, and minimize the negative con-
sequences of development are commonplace in our municipalities and provinces.
Yet many Canadians do not know how their neighbourhood parks are designed, how
their transportation networks are funded, or which responsibilities rest with their
local government. This book introduces the reader to the discipline of community
and regional planning through real cases, which illustrate the multidisciplinary and
participatory approach that planners use in the development of policies, plans, and
programs.
Case studies, with their in-depth exploration of planning decisions, stakeholder
relationships, and political realities, are often used to help develop policy solutions to
the complex problems planners face in their own jurisdictions. They have been used
to understand how plans were developed, the challenges encountered, and different
implementation outcomes from one municipality to another—often telling a compelling
story in the process. Case study as a research approach is also well used in planning,
because it allows incorporation of multiple research methods to develop a deep under-
standing of a topic. Completed case studies can be also used in meta-analysis and cross-
case analysis to develop a broader understanding of a key issue.
Because case studies are so established in the planning discipline, Planning Canada:
A Case Study Approach uses them to introduce readers to the diversity of community
and regional planning research and practice across Canada. I hope that the book reaches
planners in both practice and research and that it will be used to introduce students to
the fascinating discipline of planning. The cases are compelling enough to interest read-
ers from any field in the complex issues facing our cities and regions, including climate
change, equity, urban sprawl, and redevelopment.

A Case Study Approach for Planning Students

One application of Planning Canada: A Case Study Approach would be as a textbook
in introductory planning courses. Canadian students in urban planning are required
to take an introduction to planning history and theory course as part of their degree
programs. Students in urban studies, geography, real estate development, landscape
xiv  Preface

architecture, and sociology often take an introductory course in planning. The read-
ing lists for these courses are usually a mix of book chapters, online articles, and
government publications—rarely do instructors use a single textbook. Reading lists
typically draw upon American authors, but major differences in planning law, history,
and governance mean that these theories and analyses can have limited applications
for those intending to pursue planning careers in Canada. My intent was to present
cases developed within students’ own political, cultural, and governance frameworks to
allow them to easily see how the plans or policies could be implemented in their own
cities and regions.
The format of the book, divided into nine sections, is intended to introduce stu-
dents to the planning “sub-disciplines” by presenting three to five cases of policy
development, plan implementation, or in-depth research in each area. Each of
the cases works as a standalone reading, which allows them to be used in elective
courses such as transportation planning or community development: for example,
Jason Thorne’s chapter on the Province of Ontario Growth Plan for the Greater
Golden Horseshoe could be integrated into in a course on regional planning. Many
of the chapters cross sub-disciplines, illustrating the inter-disciplinarity of plan-
ning, so they can be used in multiple ways. Gerry Couture’s case study of Winnipeg’s
CentrePlan addresses public participation, urban regeneration, and community
development; Tim Shah’s case of climate change adaptation in Elkford, BC, could
be used in courses on ecological planning, planning methods, or disaster and risk
management. The length of the cases, a maximum of 4500 words each, allows an
individual case to be combined with two or three in-depth articles on a key topic in
an elective course.
The authors have each illustrated the ways in which planners were involved in the
development of plans and policies, how planners dealt with challenges, and their reflec-
tions on the outcomes of the planning processes. In this way, students learn how typical
challenges encountered in practice could be addressed. Planning theories highlighted
within each case study help students to understand the intersection of theory and prac-
tice. The list of further readings at the end of the book will be useful in developing these
specialized topic reading lists.

A Text for Planning Researchers

Another way to use the case studies would be in planning research. The authors have
outlined the methods they used in the development of each case study, including inter-
views, focus groups, design charrettes, gis , meta-analysis, policy analysis, and par-
ticipant observation. Some, such as Laura Johnson in her case on Regent Park, go into
considerable detail on their research methods and could be used in a masters research
methods class or p hd colloquium on research design. Advanced discussion of the case
study method can be found in the introduction and in Kyle Whitfield’s case on health
initiatives in Alberta, which illustrates the use of case studies in cross-case comparison
to aid in analytic generalization. The case studies could also be used as qualitative data:
the four cases on housing presented in Section 5 could be used in a policy analysis of the
development of affordable housing in Canada; the five cases on participatory processes
could be used in a meta-analysis of public participation in planning. Many of the cases
discuss decision-making and public participation processes, which are often of interest
to planning researchers.
 Preface  xv

Presenting Compelling Stories and Developing a

Shared Vision

Although planners have their own set of skills and expertise, many decisions on plan-
ning policies, programs, and plans rest with elected officials, members of the public,
developers, non-profit organizations, Aboriginal governments, and other stakeholders.
It is good practice to exchange knowledge of planning goals, aspirations, and values with
those involved in planning processes. Discussions of increased density in communities,
implementation of cycling lanes, or redevelopment of former industrial spaces can then
occur with common goals and understandings. Some municipalities, regional planning
authorities, and non-profit organizations have been instrumental in distributing infor-
mation on planning processes, developing new ways for getting involved in shaping
the city, and developing online participation tools to decrease distance in rural areas.
Increased knowledge of planning issues contributes to an understanding of the “com-
mon good” or the development of a future vision for a town or region. Those who par-
ticipate in a plan’s development share its ownership and assist in its implementation.
With this goal in mind, I hope to introduce readers from all age groups, all disci-
plines, and all regions to planners’ unique skills and expertise, the challenges that they
face in implementation, and the fundamental governance frameworks that shape plan-
ning decisions in Canada. These critical components of theory and practice ground the
case studies in the daily realities of decision-making in municipalities, regions, and
provinces.

Acknowledgments
This book first developed through a chance meeting between myself, Caroline Starr,
acquisitions editor at Oxford University Press Canada, and Silvia Vilches, postdoctoral
researcher at the University of Victoria. It was astonishing to see how quickly the idea
of “a case study book in Canadian planning” attracted support from academic and prac-
tising planners across the country. Because most of the work took place during my two-
year research posting at the University of Amsterdam, the authors became somewhat of
a virtual community in the process of developing the book.
Special thanks must go not only to Caroline at oup Canada but also to Jodi Lewchuk,
Peter Chambers, and Dorothy Turnbull, who took the book through its developmental
stages to publication. Gordon Price and Shawn Micallef spread the word on the call for
papers and were undoubtedly the main reasons that I received so many high-quality
case study proposals. Thanks to Penny Gurstein, Luca Bertolini, and Leonie Janssen-
Jansen, models of excellent researchers and teachers. To Nick Doniere, everlasting grati-
tude for all your support. Finally, this book is dedicated to the staff, faculty, students,
and alumni of the University of British Columbia School of Community and Regional
Planning—without you, there would be no Planning Canada.
To all of those who have supported the authors in the development of their cases,
thank you for helping us to develop a volume that we feel will introduce students, prac-
titioners, urban enthusiasts, community activists, and many others to community and
regional planning policies, plans, and programs in Canada.

Ren Thomas
This page intentionally left blank
PART A
Fundamentals of Planning
1.0
An Introduction to

Canadian Planning

Why Plan?
Community and regional planning is practised in human settlements around the world.
In Canada, with our sparsely populated, vast geography and a governance structure
rooted in our rural history, planning has its own challenges. These challenges have
inspired some fascinating and inspiring solutions, shaping the country’s built environ-
ments and protecting its natural heritage.
Canadian planners have been working to improve the physical, social, and eco-
nomic conditions in our communities since our earliest settlements were established.
The roots of planning theory and practice in Canada can be traced back to human
settlements in the seventeenth century, but the formal discipline originated less than
a century ago. Since 1919, when the Town Planning Institute of Canada was founded,
planning has integrated professionals trained in different disciplines such as architec-
ture, engineering, public health, and social work. Even after the establishment of for-
mal planning programs in the postwar period, many enter the discipline through other
fields of study. The planner might be considered “a jack of all trades but master of none,”
but in fact planners possess a set of skills that places them at the centre of complex
urban problem-solving and enables them to make professional judgments on matters
of the public interest.
Most planners enter the field with the aim of improving towns, cities, and regions.
In this sense, planning can be considered a normative discipline. Planners believe that
they can to help build better, more compact, more sustainable, and even more equitable
 1 | An Introduction to Canadian Planning   3

urban settlements and that they have been given the tools to do so. They use this know-
ledge to develop plans, policies, and programs. While “trying to change the world” may
seem a lofty goal, planners work at different levels, from engaging community members
in the design of a neighbourhood park to drafting provincial policies on climate change.
They can be involved in everything from the physical design of streets to the develop-
ment of partnerships between non-profit, private, and public organizations. However,
planning is not a scientific discipline with strict principles that must be applied to cities
and regions: there is no “perfect” city. Although there have been times when planning
could be characterized as positivist, today the role of the planner can vary from facili-
tator of community dialogue to policy developer, from political advisor to advocate
for under-represented groups. Within the field of planning, the roles of orator, analyst,
designer, and project manager all exist, and a single individual could play all of these
roles over time.
Planners do not have carte blanche to build cities; they work within complex gov-
ernance frameworks including municipal, regional, provincial, federal, and Aboriginal
governments. While planning can be said to be a local matter, Canada’s legislative struc-
ture means that it is also a provincial responsibility. Planning issues can have impli-
cations far beyond the municipality (Cullingworth 1987). In addition to governments,
community associations, non-profit organizations, business interest groups, advisory
boards, school boards, and individuals assist in the development and implementation
of plans, programs, and policies that affect our daily lives. Each of these players has
interests and goals related to the social and spatial fabric of the city that may conflict
with each other. Planners can work for, or with, any of these players. So as many plan-
ning theorists have noted, aspects of power and authority influence the actions of plan-
ners, from the political party whose members are local councillors to the business owner
who sits on the regional development board. Many different types of information, such
as statistical data, the opinions of residents, housing forecasts, and environmental con-
cerns, are used in decision-making.
Sometimes planners fail. Sometimes higher aspirations for their policy, plan,
program, or demonstration (pilot) project remain unrealized. Monitoring of the
program over time might show that it did not meet its intended goals: the demoli-
tion of low-income urban neighbourhoods in the 1950s to build new public housing
projects is a classic example. Like other departments within municipalities, planning
departments can be severely constrained in their budgets, particularly in rural areas,
in emerging policy areas such as food policy, or during economic downturns. This
can seriously hamper their efforts. Powerful interests may collaborate to prevent key
­planning ­legislation from passing or hamper implementation efforts, even at the
neighbourhood level.
Planning does not exist in spite of these challenges—it exists because of them. These
conflicts between the state and the individual, between the public good and private con-
cerns, are as old as civilization itself. It was because of rapidly changing cities, their
air pollution, the effects of unsafe and unsanitary housing on their working classes,
and their social inequalities that the discipline of planning came into being. Planners
must continually face new challenges, develop new solutions, and work in new ways
to “change the world.” The aim of this volume is to highlight the ordinary and extra-
ordinary ways in which Canadian planners have helped communities across the country
achieve greater resilience, create robust strategies, and develop a sense of ownership in
their own futures.
4   Part A | Fundamentals of Planning

Why Use Case Studies?

The idea for a book of case studies in Canadian planning originated at the University of
British Columbia, where many of the p hd candidates are involved in in-depth studies of
particular policies, programs, or relationships between key actors in a planning process.
Case studies have developed a niche for themselves in the discipline, whether in aca-
demia or in practice. Planning is, after all, a complex process involving residents, muni-
cipal and regional planners, Aboriginal communities, business associations, non-profit
organizations, and environmental groups, to name but a few. Delving into the intricacies
of these players and their roles in developing a program or helping to shape a vision for
the future is infinitely interesting to those who seek to understand and improve upon
the profession.
For practising planners, sharing their progress on a new bylaw or regional govern-
ance model occurs in day-to-day practice; exchanging success stories and challenges is
common in any profession. Canadian planners share their work more formally through
meetings with local Canadian Institute of Planners (cip ) affiliates and publications in
the professional journal Plan Canada or informally in local newspapers, online publica-
tions, and websites. Exchanges also take place between planning departments that visit
each other to learn, for example, about the latest in food security policies or sustainable
transportation initiatives. Implicit in this type of exchange is the desire for policy trans-
fer, a process in which policy ideas, administrative arrangements, institutions, and ideas
can be transferred from one context to another (Dolowitz and Marsh 2000). Although
there is a hunger for “best practices,” planners are also interested in the challenges to
developing an Official Community Plan (ocp) or the barriers to the adoption of a new
policy. For example, planners might be interested in how a municipality engaged immi-
grants or youth in a planning process and which particular techniques worked better
than others.
In academic planning, case study is a well-established research methodology.
A number of authors have gone into considerable depth on the methods, research
design, and typology of case study research, e.g., single-case, multiple-case, and cross-
case research. Robert K. Yin, in his influential volumes Case Study Research: Design
and Methods (1984) and Applications of Case Study Research (1991), outlined in detail
the approaches researchers could take, the variety of methods that could be used to
gather qualitative and quantitative data within a case study framework, and the abil-
ity to generalize from case study results. Central to the planning discipline is Yin’s
argument that single-case studies can be used in analytic generalization in which a
theory can be tested in another similar setting to further define its explanatory power.
This explains the attraction of books such as John Punter’s The Vancouver Achievement
(2004), whose detailed interviews and document analysis tell the story of how some
of the city’s urban design and planning achievements, such as discretionary control of
major developments and Development Cost Levies, came into existence. In Making
Social Science Matter: Why Social Inquiry Fails and How It Can Succeed Again (2001),
planning theorist Bent Flyvbjerg writes that the richness of case studies, including
interviews with practising planners and politicians, analysis of values and power, and
integration of data from different sources, is essential in the development of theory in
the social sciences. Flyvbjerg argues that the social sciences are not, and never have
been, cumulative and predictive in nature, making the aim of social science research
quite different from that of the natural sciences. Cross-case analysis, which compares
a number of similar cases using a variety of techniques (Miles and Huberman 1994),
 1 | An Introduction to Canadian Planning   5

can advance the development of theory in planning by enhancing understanding and

explanation of the specific conditions under which a finding can occur. Case compari-
son can also help practising planners understand similarities and differences between
policies, actors, or governance models that might be useful in policy implementation
(Thomas and Bertolini 2014).
There are a number of reasons that a volume that teaches planning through a case
study approach is relevant today. First, cities face new challenges such as climate change,
rising income inequality, and an unstable economy; public servants and policy-makers
may be dissatisfied with the ability of their current policies to respond to these prob-
lems (Marsden and Stead 2011). Conditions of uncertainty, such as the absence of a
scientific consensus, lack of information, new problems, policy disasters, crisis, and pol-
itical conflict, may contribute to the need for new solutions; uncertainty acts as a power-
ful force for imitation in policy transfer (DiMaggio and Powell 1983). Second, we live in
an era of heightened competition among cities, regions, and countries. Every city wants
to attract new residents to its territory, to become a magnet for creative professionals
(Florida 2002), and to sustain its economy. When a city is successful, whether socially,
economically, or environmentally, other cities notice and want to achieve the same out-
comes. Finally, in today’s digital world, policy-makers, politicians, and public servants
have more opportunities to network with each other and share policy ideas (Marsden
and Stead 2011). We, the editor and authors involved in the creation of this book, hope
that the cases serve as inspiration and learning (Spaans and Louw 2009) for students
studying planning and as lessons for planners across the country, who may be able to
adapt these policies to fit their own local contexts, developing hybrid policies or ideas
in the process (Stone 2004).
The book is arranged into nine sections:

1. An Introduction to Canadian Planning

2. Community Development and Social Planning
3. Urban Form and Public Health
4. Natural Resource Management
5. Housing
6. Participatory Processes
7. Urban Design
8. Urban Regeneration
9. Transportation and Infrastructure

The eight sections following this introduction reflect prominent “sub-disciplines” of

planning. In this way, students of planning programs can learn about the different activ-
ities that planning entails. For those new to planning, this breakdown of subject areas
provides a brief introduction to the main concepts, theories, and authors in each area,
grounding these with practical examples rooted in Canadian governance frameworks.
But as will become clear from reading the chapters, many of them cross multiple sub-
ject areas, which illustrates the complexity and multidisciplinarity of the profession. So
don’t limit yourself to the examination of cases in one or two areas; it is very likely that
cases in other sections will offer insights into your area(s) of interest. For example, Juan
Torres and Natasha Blanchet-Cohen discuss two cases of youth participation in plan-
ning processes in Sainte-Julie, Quebec, which may also interest readers with sustain-
able transportation and urban design backgrounds. Michaela Cochran’s examination
of the social vulnerability to climate change in Yarmouth, Nova Scotia, would appeal
6   Part A | Fundamentals of Planning

to readers interested in natural resource management or urban form and public health.
The eight sections roughly represent the range of planning sub-disciplines in which a
planning student or practising planner could specialize. But many individuals change
their area(s) of focus over time or work in several areas simultaneously. A planner work-
ing at a small municipality is involved in a variety of projects, from parks planning to
development bylaws, and a planner in private practice may specialize in transportation
and infrastructure projects ranging from a new lrt line to district energy solutions.
New areas of practice, such as food policy or climate change adaptation, contribute to
the evolution of the sub-disciplines.

A Brief History of Planning in Canada

How did planning come into existence in Canada? How has the discipline evolved
over time? This brief introduction to the history of planning is not intended to famil-
iarize readers with all the details, names, and dates necessary for a thorough under-
standing of the topic. Indeed, other volumes, such as Jill Grant’s Reader in Canadian
Planning: Linking Theory and Practice (2008) or Shaping the Urban Landscape: Aspects
of the Canadian City-Building Process (1982) by Alan Artibise and Gilbert Stelter, would
be more suitable for that purpose. Since most students of planning will take an entire
course on the history and theory of planning, this section merely introduces the main
stages in the development of the profession and key innovations in Canadian planning
for those who are unfamiliar with the field. Canadian planning practice has been largely
shaped by developments in the United Kingdom and the United States, but Canadian
governance arrangements, geography, and demographics have contributed to a unique
planning culture (Hodge 1985).
While the “official” history of the planning profession begins with the establish-
ment of the Town Planning Institute of Canada in 1919, the broader notion of planning
dates back much further. A rich history of Aboriginal (First Nations, Inuit, and Métis)
settlements in strategic locations across the country existed for thousands of years, but
European colonization wiped out much of the evidence of Aboriginal settlement pat-
terns (Wolfe 2004). Colonial powers or powerful corporations, such as the Hudson’s Bay
Company, were instrumental in developing all but a few of the places that later became
cities (Hodge 1985).
As in other countries, many towns in Canada were laid out with consideration of
the transportation networks used for shipping, physical structures used for military
defence, and a consistent pattern for roads and streets. The earliest planned com-
munities were Quebec City (1608), Trois-Rivières (1634), and Montreal (1642), all
of which had the street layout and character of medieval towns. British settlements
were typically laid out relative to a survey baseline along the harbour (Hodge 1985),
such as Charlottetown (1768), Saint John (1783), and Lunenberg (1753). In the Prairies,
settlements at this time were mostly scattered posts established by the Hudson’s Bay
Company or missions, such as Portage la Prairie, Prince Albert Mission, and Fort
Albert. In 1870, Winnipeg had only 100 inhabitants and a few frame structures, hotels,
and retail buildings (Artibise 1981). Montreal became Canada’s major industrial city,
growing rapidly from 1840 onwards. In 1880, the Canadian Pacific Railway established
its head office there, and much of Western Canada’s grain was shipped from its port
(Artibise 1981).
 1 | An Introduction to Canadian Planning   7

Confederation and Industrialization: 1867–1900

Two catalysts were instrumental in the establishment of non-Aboriginal settlements

across Canada: Confederation in 1867 and the construction of the railway network, com-
pleted in 1885. The first railway reached Winnipeg in 1878; between 1871 and 1901, the
population of the Prairies increased from 70,000 to more than 400,000, including three
incorporated cities, 25 towns, and 57 villages (Artibise 1981). New settlements estab-
lished by the Canadian Pacific Railway were typically gridiron in layout regardless of the
site’s topography, such as Brandon, Manitoba, and New Westminster, British Columbia.
Even when the initial townsites did not coincide with the area railway terminus, as in
Saskatoon, Regina, Calgary, and Edmonton, the station areas became the dominant com-
mercial centres. Dramatic growth occurred along the main cpr line where Moose Jaw,
Swift Current, Medicine Hat, and Calgary were all located (Artibise 1981). Settlements
that had existed before the railway, such as Edmonton, Prince Albert, and Saskatoon,
struggled during this time. Toronto, as the nexus of Ontario’s railway network, became
the centre of regional trade, transportation, and finance.
Until the late 1800s, Canada was a rural nation. Urbanization at a rapid rate had the
same social and environmental effects in this country that it had in other industrial-
ized countries of the era. Air pollution, water contamination, and contagious diseases
became common problems as large numbers of people were drawn to urban centres for
the first time in the nation’s history. The economy transitioned from agriculture to the
manufacturing and processing of raw materials. As urban centres developed rapidly,

Figure 1.0.1 • A map of Winnipeg from 1881 showing the grid street pattern against the
river. Its population at this time was 12,000.
Source: City of Winnipeg.
Another random document with
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army might be looked for. Maucune reported from Frias, not long
after his arrival there, that hostile cavalry were across the Ebro in the
direction of Puente Arenas, and that other troops in uncertain
strength were behind them. It was clearly necessary to take new
measures, in view of the fact that the enemy was beyond the Ebro,
in a place where he had not been expected. How much did the move
imply? After consideration Joseph and Jourdan concluded, quite
correctly, that since the main body of Wellington’s army had been
invisible for so many days—it had last been seen on the Hormaza on
June 12th—it was probably continuing its old policy of circular
marches to turn the French right. This was correct, but they credited
Wellington with intending to get round them not by the shorter routes
Osma-Vittoria, but by the much longer route by Valmaseda and
Bilbao, which would cut into the high road to France at Bergara, far
behind Vittoria.
With this idea in their heads the King and the Marshal issued
orders of a lamentably unpractical scope, considering the position
occupied by Wellington’s leading divisions on June 17th. Reille was
ordered to collect his three infantry divisions at Osma, and to hurry
across the mountains by Valmaseda, to cover Bilbao from the west,
by taking up a position somewhere about Miravalles. He would find
the Biscayan capital already held by St. Pol’s Italians, and Rouget’s
brigade of the Army of the North. Foy, who was believed to be at
Tolosa, was instructed to bring up his division to the same point.
Thus a force of some 25,000 men would be collected at Bilbao.
Meanwhile Reille’s original positions at Frias and the Puente Lara
would be taken over by Gazan, who would march up the Ebro from
Arminion with two divisions of infantry and one of cavalry, to watch
the north bank of the Ebro. ‘These dispositions,’ remarks Jourdan,
‘were intended to retard the advance of the enemy in this
mountainous region, and so to gain time for the arrival of the
reinforcements we were expecting [i.e. Clausel]. But it was too
late![523]’
No worse orders could have been given. If Wellington had struck
twenty-four hours later than he did, and Reille had been able to carry
out his first day’s appointed move, and to get forward towards
Bilbao, the result would have been to split the French army in two,
with the main range of the Cantabrian sierras between them: since
Reille and Foy would have joined at Bilbao—three days’ forced
marches away from the King. Meanwhile Joseph, deprived of the
whole Army of Portugal, would have had Wellington striking in on his
flank by Osma, and would have been forced to fight something
resembling the battle of Vittoria with 10,000 men less in hand than
he actually owned on June 21. Either he would have suffered an
even worse defeat than was his lot at Vittoria, or he would have been
compelled to retreat without fighting, down the Ebro, or towards
Pampeluna. In either case he would have lost the line of
communication with France; and while he was driven far east, Foy
and Reille would have had to hurry back on Bayonne, with some risk
of being intercepted and cut off on the way.
As a matter of fact, Reille was checked and turned back upon the
first day of his northward march. He had sent orders to Maucune to
join him from Frias, either by the road along the Ebro by Puente
Lara, or by the mountain track which goes directly from Frias to
Espejo. Then, without waiting for Maucune, he started from Espejo
to march on Osma. He had gone only a few miles when he
discovered a British column debouching on Osma, by the road from
Berberena[524] and the north-west, which he had been intending to
take himself. Seeing his path blocked, but being loth to give way
before what might be no more than a detachment, he drew up his
two divisions on the hillside a mile south of Osma and appeared
ready to offer battle. Moreover, he was expecting the arrival of
Maucune, and judged that if he made off without delaying the enemy
in front of him, the column from Frias might be intercepted and
encircled.
The troops which Reille had met were Graham’s main column—
the 1st and 5th divisions with Bradford’s Portuguese and Anson’s
Light Dragoons, on their march towards Orduña. Graham prepared
to attack, sent forward the German Legion light battalions of the 1st
Division, and pushed out Norman Ramsay’s horse artillery, with a
cavalry escort, to the right of Osma, forming the rest of his force for a
general advance across the Bilbao road. After estimating the
strength of the British, Reille appeared at first inclined to fight, or at
least to show an intention of fighting. But a new enemy suddenly
came up—the 4th Division appeared on a side road, descending
from the hills on the right of Graham’s line. It had just time to throw
out its light companies to skirmish[525] when Reille, seeing himself
obviously outnumbered and outflanked, retreated hastily on Espejo;
the 5th Division followed him on the left, with some tiraillade, the 4th
Division on the right, but he was not caught. ‘Considerable fire on
both sides but little done,’ remarked an observer on the hillside[526].
Reille’s loss was probably about 120 men, nearly all in Sarrut’s
division[527]: that of the British some 50 or 60.
Meanwhile there had been a much more lively fight, with heavier
casualties, a few miles farther south among the mountains nearer
the Ebro. Maucune had started before dawn from Frias, intending to
join Reille by a short cut through the hills, instead of sticking to the
better road along the river-bank by the Puente Lara. He only sent his
guns with a cavalry escort by that route. He was marching with his
two brigades at a considerable distance from each other, the rear
one being hampered by the charge of the divisional transport and
baggage.
The leading brigade had reached the hamlet of San Millan and
was resting there by a brook, when British cavalry scouts came in
upon them—these were German Legion Hussars, at the head of the
Light Division, which Wellington had sent by the cross-path over the
hills by La Boveda. The approaching column had been marching
along a narrow road, shrouded by overhanging rocks and high
banks, in which it could neither see nor be seen. On getting the
alarm the four French battalions formed up to fight, in the small open
space about the village, while the head of the British column,
Vandeleur’s brigade, deployed as fast as it could opposite them, and
attacked; the 2/95th and 3rd Caçadores in front line, the 52nd in
support. Maucune was forced to make a stand, because his rear
brigade was coming up, unseen by his enemies, and would have
been cut off from him if he had retreated at once. But when the head
of Kempt’s brigade of the Light Division appeared, and began to
deploy to the left of Vandeleur’s, he saw that he was outnumbered,
and gave ground perforce. He had been driven through the village,
and was making off along the road, with the Rifle battalions in hot
pursuit, when his second brigade, with the baggage in its rear, came
on the scene—most unexpected by the British, for the track by which
it emerged issued out between two perpendicular rocks and had not
been noticed. Perceiving the trap into which they had fallen, the
belated French turned off the road, and made for the hillside to their
right, while Kempt’s brigade started in pursuit, scrambling over the
rocky slopes to catch them up. The line of flight of the French took
them past the ground over which Vandeleur’s men were chasing
their comrades of the leading brigade, and the odd result followed
that they came in upon the rear of the 52nd, and, though pursued,
seemed to be themselves pursuing. The Oxfordshire battalion
thereupon performed the extraordinary feat of bringing up its left
shoulder, forming line facing to the rear at a run, and charging
backward. They encountered the enemy at the top of a slope, but the
French, seeing themselves between two fires, for Kempt’s men were
following hotly behind them, avoided the collision, struck off
diagonally, and scattering and throwing away their packs went off in
disorder eastward, still keeping up a running fight. The large majority
escaped, and joined Gazan’s troops at Miranda. Meanwhile the first
brigade, pursued by the Rifles and Caçadores, got away in much
better order, and reached Reille’s main body at Espejo. The
transport which had come out of the narrow road too late to follow
the regiments, was captured whole, after a desperate resistance by
the baggage-guard. Maucune got off easily, all things considered,
with the loss of three hundred prisoners, many of them wounded,
and all his impedimenta[528]. The fight was no discredit to the general
or to his men, who saved themselves by presence of mind, when
caught at every disadvantage—inferior troops would have laid down
their arms en masse when they found themselves between two fires
in rough and unknown ground[529]. The total British loss in the two
simultaneous combats of Osma and San Millan was 27 killed and
153 wounded.
Reille, having picked up Maucune’s first brigade at Espejo,
continued his retreat, and got behind the Bayas river at Subijana that
night. The report which he had to send to head-quarters upset all the
plans of Jourdan and the King, and forced them to reconsider their
position, which was obviously most uncomfortable, as their line of
defence along the Ebro was taken in flank, and the proposed
succour to Bilbao made impossible. At least four British divisions had
been detected by Reille, but where were the rest, and where were
the Spaniards, who were known to be in some strength with
Wellington? Was the whole Allied host behind the force which had
driven in the Army of Portugal, or was there some great unseen
column executing some further inscrutable movement?
There was hot discussion at Miranda that night. Reille repeated
the proposition which had already been made at Burgos six days
back, that in consideration of the fact that the army was hopelessly
outflanked, and that its retreat by the high road to Vittoria and
Bayonne was threatened by the presence of Wellington on the
Bayas, it should abandon that line of communication altogether,
march down the Ebro, and take up the line of Pampeluna and
Saragossa, rallying Clausel and, if possible, Suchet, for a general
concentration, by which the British army could be driven back as it
had been from Burgos in 1812. Foy and the Biscay garrisons would
have to take care of themselves—it was unlikely that Wellington
would be able to fall upon them, when the whole of the rest of the
French armies of Spain were on his flank, and taking the offensive
against him.
Joseph, for the third time, refused to consider this scheme,
alleging, as before, the Emperor’s strict orders to keep to the
Bayonne base, and to hold on to the great royal chaussée. But, as is
clear, his refusal was affected by another consideration which in his
eyes had almost equally decisive weight. Vittoria was crammed with
the great convoys of French and Spanish refugees which had
accumulated there, along with all the plunder of Madrid, and the
military material representing the ‘grand train’ of the whole army of
Spain—not to speak of his own immense private baggage. There
had also arrived, within the last few days, a large consignment of
hard cash—the belated arrears of the allowance which the Emperor
had consented to give to the Army of Spain. One of Foy’s brigades
had escorted these fourgons of treasure to Vittoria, and dropped
them there, returning to Bergara with a section of the refugees in
charge, to be passed on to Bayonne.[530] The amount delivered was
not less than five million francs—bitterly needed by the troops, who
were in long arrears. All this accumulation at Vittoria was in large
measure due to the King’s reluctance during the retreat to order a
general shift of all his officials and impedimenta over the border into
France. As long as his ministers, and all the plant of royalty,
remained on the south side of the Pyrenees, he still seemed a king.
And he had hoped to maintain himself first on the Douro, then about
Burgos, then on the Ebro. It was only when this last line was forced
that he made up his mind to surrender his theoretical status, and
think of military considerations alone. The lateness of his decision
was to prove most fatal to his adherents.
Having resolved to order a general retreat on Vittoria, Joseph and
Jourdan took such precautions as seemed possible. Reiterated
orders for haste were sent to Foy and Clausel: the latter was told to
march on Vittoria not on Miranda. Unfortunately he had received the
dispatch sent from Burgos on June 15th, which gave him Miranda as
the concentration-point, and had already gathered his divisions at
Pampeluna on June 18, and started to march by Estella and Logroño
and along the north bank of the Ebro. This gave him two sides of a
triangle to cover, while if he had been assigned the route
Pampeluna-Salvatierra-Vittoria, he would have been saved eighty
miles of road. But on June 9th, when the original orders were issued,
no one could have foreseen, save Wellington, that the critical day of
the campaign would have found the French army far north of the
Ebro. And the new dispatch, sent off on the night of the 18th-19th,
started far too late to reach Pampeluna in time to stop Clausel’s
departure southward. Indeed, it did not catch him up till the battle of
Vittoria had been fought, and the King was a fugitive on the way to
France. Foy received orders a little earlier, though not apparently
those sent directly by the King, but a copy of a dispatch to
Thouvenot, governor of Vittoria, in which the latter was instructed
‘that if General Foy and his division are in your neighbourhood, you
are to bid him give up his march on Bilbao, and draw in towards
Vittoria, unless his presence is absolutely necessary at the point
where he may be at present[531].’ This unhappy piece of wording
gave Foy a choice, which he interpreted as authorizing him to remain
at Bergara, so as to cover the high road to France, a task which he
held to be ‘absolutely necessary.’
 As to the troops already on the spot, Reille was ordered to
defend the line of the Bayas river, until the armies of the South and
Centre should have had time to get past his rear and reach Vittoria.
Gazan was ordered to collect the whole of the Army of the South at
Arminion, behind Miranda, drawing in at once the considerable
detachment which he had left beyond the Ebro. In this position he
was to wait till D’Erlon, with the Army of the Centre, who had to
move up from Haro, ten miles to the south, should have arrived and
have got on to the great chaussée. He was then to follow him, acting
as rearguard of the whole force. Between Arminion and Vittoria the
road passes for two miles through the very narrow defile of Puebla,
the bottle-neck through which the Zadorra river cuts its way from the
upland plain of Vittoria to the lower level of the Ebro valley.
D’Erlon, starting at dawn from Haro, reached Arminion at 10
o’clock in the morning of the 19th, and pushed up the defile: the
head of his column was just emerging from its northern end when a
heavy cannonade began to be heard in the west. It continued all the
time that the Army of the South was pressing up the defile, and grew
nearer. This, of course, marked the approach of Wellington, driving
the covering force under Reille before him toward the Zadorra. The
British commander-in-chief had slept the night at Berberena near
Osma, and had there drafted a set of orders which considerably
modified his original scheme: probably the change was due to
topographical information, newly garnered up from the countryside.
Instead of sending Graham’s column via Orduña, to cut in on the
flank of the chaussée behind Vittoria, he had resolved to send it by a
shorter route, a mere country road which goes by Luna, Santa
Eulalia, and Jocano to Murguia—the village which it had been
ordered on the previous day to reach via Orduña and the high road.
Presumably it had been discovered that this would save time,—the
advantage of using a first-rate track being more than
counterbalanced by the fact that the Orduña road was not only ten
miles longer but crossed and recrossed by steep slopes the main
sierra, which forms the watershed between Biscay and Alava. Or
possibly it was only the discovery that the Luna-Jocano route could
be taken by artillery that settled the matter: if it had been reported
useless for wheeled traffic the old orders might have stood. At any
rate, the turning movement, which was to take Graham into the rear
of Vittoria, was made south of the main mountain chain, and not
north of it[532].
Meanwhile, though Graham diverged north-eastward, the rest of
the Army moved straight forward from the valley of the Omecillo to
that of the Bayas in four columns, all parallel to each other, and all
moving by country roads. The 3rd Division was ordered from
Berberena to Carcamo—the 7th followed behind it. The 4th Division
with D’Urban’s cavalry in front, and the Light Division with V. Alten’s
hussars in front, were directed on Subijana and Pobes, keeping in
close and constant communication with each other. Behind them
came the cavalry reserve—R. Hill’s, Grant’s, and Ponsonby’s
brigades—also the heavy artillery. Hill’s column, which had now
come up into touch with the leading divisions, kept to the high road
from Osma and Espejo towards the Puente Lara and the Ebro. But
only cavalry reconnaissances went as far as the river—the mass of
the corps turned off eastward when it had passed Espejo, and
moved by Salinas de Añana, so as to come out into the valley of the
Bayas south of the route of the Light Division. It thus became the
right wing of the army which was deploying for the frontal attack.
It has been mentioned above that a local Spanish force from the
Cantabrian mountains had joined Wellington at Medina de Pomar;
this was the so-called ‘division’, some 3,500 bayonets, of the great
guerrillero of the coast-land, Longa, now no more an irregular but a
titular colonel, while his partida had been reorganized as four
battalions of light infantry. Longa was a tough and persistent fighter
—a case of the ‘survival of the fittest’ among many insurgent chiefs
who had perished. His men were veteran mountaineers,
indefatigable marchers, and skilled skirmishers, if rudimentary in
their drill and equipment. Wellington during the ensuing campaign
gave more work to them than to any other Spanish troops that were
at his disposal—save the Estremaduran division of Morillo, old
comrades of Hill’s corps, to which they had always been attached
since 1811. The use which Wellington now made of Longa’s men
was to employ them as a light covering shield for Graham’s turning
force. They had been sent across the hills from Quincoces[533] on the
17th to occupy Orduña—from thence they descended on the 19th on
to Murguia, thus placing themselves at the head of the turning
column. The object of the arrangement was that, if the enemy should
detect the column, he would imagine it to be a Spanish
demonstration, and not suspect that a heavy British force lay hid
behind the familiar guerrilleros. While Longa was thus brought in
sideways, to form the head of Graham’s column, the other Spanish
force which Wellington was employing was also deflected to join the
main army. Giron’s Galicians, as has been mentioned above, had
been sent by a long sweep through the sierras to demonstrate
against Bilbao. They had reached Valmaseda on the 18th, and their
approach had alarmed all the French garrisons of Biscay. Now,
having put themselves in evidence in the north, they were suddenly
recalled, ordered to march by Amurrio on Orduña and Murguia, and
so to fall into the rear of Graham’s column. The distances were
considerable, the roads steep, and Giron only came up with the
Anglo-Portuguese army on the afternoon of the battle of Vittoria, in
which (unlike Longa) he was too late to take any part. Somewhere
on his march from Aguilar to Valmaseda he picked up a
reinforcement, the very small Asturian division of Porlier—three
battalions or 2,400 men—which Mendizabal had sent to join him
from the blockade of Santoña. This raised the Galician Army to a
total of some 14,000 bayonets.
The 19th June was a very critical day, as no one knew better than
Wellington. The problem was whether, starting with the heads of his
column facing the line of the Bayas, where Reille had rallied his
three divisions and was standing at bay, he could drive in the
detaining force, and cross the Zadorra in pursuit of it, fast enough to
surprise some part of the French army still in its march up from the
south. And, as an equally important problem, there was the question
whether Graham, marching on Murguia, could reach the upper
Zadorra and cut the great road north of Vittoria, before the French
were in position to cover it. If these operations could be carried out,
there would be a scrambling fight scattered over much ground,
rather than a regular pitched battle. If they could not, there would be
a formal general action on the 20th or 21st against an enemy
established in position—unless indeed King Joseph should choose
to continue his retreat without fighting, which Wellington thought
quite possible[534].
Wellington is censured by some critics, including Napier[535], for
not making a swifter advance on the 19th. It is said that a little more
haste would have enabled him to get to Vittoria as soon as the
enemy, and to force him to fight in dislocated disorder on ground
which he had not chosen. This seems unjustifiable. The distance
between the camps of the Allied Army, in front of Osma and Espejo,
and Vittoria is some twenty miles—difficult ground, with the Bayas
river flowing through the midst of it and a formidable position held by
15,000 French behind that stream. As Reille, conscious how much
depended on his gaining time for the King to retreat from Miranda,
was determined to detain the Allied Army as long as he could, it
would have been useless to try to drive him away by a light attack.
The rear of each of Wellington’s columns was trailing many miles
behind the leading brigade. It was necessary to bring up against
Reille a force sufficient to make serious resistance impossible, and
this Wellington did, pushing forward not only the 4th and Light
Divisions, but Hill’s column in support, on the southern flank. It took
time to get them deployed, and the attack was opened by a
cannonade. By the time that a general advance was ordered Reille
had begun to retire—he did so very neatly, and crossed the Zadorra
by the four nearest bridges without any appreciable loss. By this time
the afternoon had arrived, the rest of the French army had passed
the defile of Puebla, and Wellington judged the hour too late for the
commencement of a pitched battle[536]. Moreover, he did not intend to
fight without the co-operation of Graham’s column, and the latter was
not where he would have wished it to be. The day had been very
rainy, the cross roads were bad, and by some error of staff-work the
head of the column had not received the countermarching orders
directing it to march direct on Murguia, but had started in accordance
with the earlier plan on to the Orduña road; the 1st and 5th Divisions
had gone some way upon it before they were recalled and counter-
marched into the right path[537]. Owing to blocks and bad weather
they only reached Jocano, some six or eight miles east of Osma, by
six in the evening. Murguia was still nine miles ahead, the rain was
still falling in torrents, and Graham ordered the divisions to halt and
encamp for the night. The fate of the campaign was not to be fought
out that day, nor on the next, but on the third morning—that of June
21st, 1813.
 SECTION XXXVI: CHAPTER VII
THE BATTLE OF VITTORIA. JUNE 21, 1813
(A) The First Stage

The plain of Vittoria, into which the French army debouched on

the afternoon of June 19th, is a plain only by comparison with the
high hills which surround it on all sides, being an oval expanse of
rolling ground drained by the swift and narrow Zadorra river, which
runs on its north-eastern side. Only in its northern section, near the
city, does it show really flat ground. It is about twelve miles long from
north-east to south-west, and varies from six to eight miles in
breadth. The Zadorra is one of those mountain streams which twist
in numberless loops and bends of alternate shallows and deep
pools, in order to get round rocks or spurs which stand in the way of
their direct course[538]. At one point seven miles down-stream from
Vittoria it indulges in a complete ‘hairpin-bend’ in which are the
bridges of Tres Puentes and Villodas, as it circles round a
precipitous knoll. At several other spots it executes minor loops in its
tortuous course. The little city of Vittoria stands on an isolated rising
ground at its northern end, very visible from all directions, and
dominating the whole upland with two prominent church spires at its
highest point. The great road from France enters the plain of Vittoria
and the valley of the Zadorra three miles north-east of the city,
descending from the defile of Salinas, a long and difficult pass in
which Mina and other guerrilleros had executed some of their most
daring raids on French convoys. After passing Vittoria the road
keeps to the middle of the upland in a westerly direction, and issues
from it by the defile of La Puebla, where the Zadorra cuts its way
through the Sierra de Andia in order to join the Ebro. There is not
much more than room for road and river in the gorge, which is
dominated by the heights of La Puebla, a spur of the Andia, on the
east, and by a corresponding but lower range, the end of the heights
of Morillas on the west.
But the Bayonne chaussée is by no means the only road in the
Vittoria upland. The city is the meeting point of a number of second-
class and third-class routes, debouching from various subsidiary
valleys of the Pyrenees and leading to various towns in Navarre or
Biscay. Of these the chief were (1) the Salvatierra-Pampeluna road,
running due east, and then crossing from the valley of the Zadorra to
the upper waters of the Araquil, by which it descends into Navarre.
This was a route practicable for artillery or transport, but narrow, ill
repaired, and steep—eminently not a line to be taken by a large
force in a hurry; (2) the main road to Bilbao by Villareal and Durango,
a coach road, but very tortuous, and ascending high mountains by
long curves and twists; (3) the alternative coach route to Bilbao by
Murguia and Orduña, easier than the Villareal road in its first section,
but forced to cross the main chain of the Pyrenees by difficult
gradients before descending into Biscay; (4) a bad side road to the
central Ebro, going due south by Trevino and La Guardia to Logroño;
(5) a similar route, running due east from Subijana on the Bayas to
the bridges of Nanclares three miles up-stream from the defile of
Puebla. At the opening of the battle of Vittoria Graham’s column was
already across the Murguia-Bilbao road, and in its earliest advance
blocked the Durango-Bilbao road also. Thus the only route beside
the great chaussée available for the French was that to Salvatierra
and Pampeluna. The road to Trevino and Logroño was useless, as
leading in an undesired direction.
In addition to these five coach roads there were several country
tracks running from various points on the Bayas river to minor
bridges on the Zadorra, across the lofty Monte Arrato, the watershed
between the two streams. It was these fifth-rate tracks which
Wellington used on the battle-day for the advance of some of his
central columns, while Hill on the right was forcing the defile of La
Puebla, and Graham on the left was descending from Murguia on to
the bridges of the upper Zadorra north-east of Vittoria.
Having their troops safely concentrated east of the Zadorra on
the evening of June 19, Joseph and Jourdan made up their minds to
stand on the position behind that river, even though Clausel had not
yet come up, nor sent any intelligence as to the route by which he
was arriving. Aides-de-camp were searching for him in all directions
—but nothing had yet been ascertained, beyond the fact that he had
started from Pampeluna on June 15th, marching on Logroño[539].
There was a high chance that some one of many missives would
reach him, and turn him on to Vittoria. But the idea that Clausel must
now be very near at hand was less operative in compelling Joseph to
fight than the idea that he must at all cost save the vast convoys
accumulated around him, his treasure, his military train, his
ministers, and his refugees. He was getting them off northward by
the high road as fast as he could: one convoy marched on the 20th,
under the charge of the troops of the Army of the North who had
formed the garrison of Vittoria, another and a larger at dawn on the
21st, escorted by the whole of Maucune’s division. It had with it
many of the Old Masters stolen from the royal palace at Madrid—the
pictures of Titian, Rafael, and Velasquez, which had been the pride
of the old dynasty—with the pick of the royal armoury and cabinet of
Natural History[540]. It is almost as difficult to make out how Joseph,
already unequal in numbers to his enemy, dared to deprive himself
of Maucune’s division of the Army of Portugal, as to discover why
Wellington left the 6th Division at Medina de Pomar. It does not
seem that the morale of the unit had been shaken by its rude
experience at San Millan on the 18th, for it fought excellently in
subsequent operations: nor had it suffered any disabling losses in
that fight. A more obvious escort might have been found in
Casapalacios’ Spanish auxiliaries, who had already been utilized for
similar purposes between Madrid and Vittoria, or in the scraps of the
Army of the North which had lately joined the retreating host. But
they remained for the battle, while Maucune marched north, with the
cannon sounding behind him all day.
When Jourdan and Joseph first arrayed their host for the
expected battle, it would seem, from the line which they took up, that
they imagined that Wellington would attack them only from the
direction of the Bayas, and paid no attention to Graham’s flanking
movement, though afterwards they wrote dispatches to prove that
they had not ignored it. For they drew up the Army of the South on a
short front, from the exit of the defile of Puebla on the south to the
bridge of Villodas on the north, a front of three miles, with D’Erlon’s
two divisions in second line on each side of the village of Gomecha,
two miles farther back, and the Army of Portugal and the King’s
Guards as a third line in reserve about Zuazo, not far in front of
Vittoria, along with the bulk of the cavalry. This order of battle, as a
glance at the map shows, presupposed a frontal attack from the line
of the Bayas, where Wellington was known to be. It was ill-suited to
face an attack from the north-west on the line of the Zadorra above
Villodas, and still more so an attack from the due north by the roads
from Orduña and Murguia. On the morning of the 20th cavalry
reconnaissances went out to look for the Allied Army—they reported
that the camps along the Bayas above Subijana Morillos did not
seem very large, and that on the Murguia road they had fallen in with
and pushed back Longa’s irregulars, obviously a Spanish
demonstration[541]. ‘No indication being available of the details of a
projected attack, and further information being unprocurable, only
conjectures could be made[542].’
It is interesting to know from the narrative of Jourdan himself
what these conjectures were. ‘Wellington,’ he writes, ‘had shown
himself since the start of the campaign more disposed to manœuvre
his opponents out of their positions, by constantly turning their right
wing, than to attack them frontally and force on a battle. It was
thought probable that, pursuing this system, he would march on
Bilbao by Orduña, and from thence on Durango, so as to force them
to fall back promptly on Mondragon[543], in order to retain their
communications with France. He might even hope to force them to
evacuate Spain by this move, because it would be impossible to feed
a great army on that section of the Pyrenees. The King, knowing that
Clausel was on the move, had little fear of the results of a march on
Bilbao, for on receiving Clausel’s corps he would be strong enough
to take the offensive himself, and would strike at Wellington’s
communications. It did not escape him that if the enemy, instead of
wasting more time on flank movements, should attack him before the
arrival of Clausel, he was in a perilous position. For there was little
chance of getting the better of an adversary who had about double
numbers, and a lost battle would cut off the army from the road to
France, and force it to retire on Pampeluna by a road difficult, if not
impracticable, for the train and artillery of a great host. To avoid the
risk of an instant attack from Wellington, ought we to fall back and
take up the position above the pass of Salinas?[544] But to do this was
to sacrifice the junction with Clausel, who was expected on the 21st
at latest. And how could the army have been fed in the passes? The
greater part of the cavalry and the artillery horses would have had to
be sent back to France at once—famine would have forced the
infantry to follow. Then the King would have been accused of
cowardice, for evacuating Spain without trying the fortune of battle.
To justify such a retreat we should have had to be certain that we
were to be attacked before the 22nd, and we considered that, if
Wellington did decide to fight, it would be unlikely that he could do so
before the 22nd, because of the difficulty of the roads which he had
taken. After mature consideration of the circumstance the King
resolved to stand fast at Vittoria.’
Putting aside the gross over-estimate of Wellington’s strength—
he fought with a superiority of 75,000[545] to 57,000, not with two to
one—the main point to note in this curious and interesting argument
is its defective psychology. Because Wellington had hitherto avoided
frontal attacks, when flank movements suited him better, was it safe
to conclude that he would do so ad infinitum? That he was capable
of a sudden onslaught was obvious to every one who remembered
the battle of Salamanca. Why, if he were about to repeat his previous
encircling policy, should he go by Orduña, Bilbao, and Durango,
rather than by the shorter turn Osma-Murguia-Vittoria? Apparently
the French staff underrated the possibilities of that road, and took the
presence of Longa upon it as a sign that it was only to be used for a
Spanish demonstration[546]. Should not the speed with which
Wellington had traversed the detestable country paths between the
Arlanzon and the Ebro have served as a warning that, if he chose to
push hard, he could cover at a very rapid rate the rather less
formidable tracks north of the Zadorra? In short, the old marshal
committed the not uncommon fault of making false deductions from
an imperfect set of premises. It is much more difficult to say what
should have been his actual course under the existing circumstances
of June 20. Napier holds that he might still have adopted Reille’s old
plan of June 12 and June 18, i.e. that he should have thrown up the
line of communication with France by the high road, have made
ready to retreat on Pampeluna instead of on Bayonne, and have
looked forward to making Saragossa his base. After having picked
up first Clausel and then so much of the Army of Aragon as could be
collected, he might have got 100,000 men together and have started
an offensive campaign[547]. This overlooks the impossibility of getting
the convoys and train safely along the bad road from Vittoria to
Pampeluna, and the difficulty of making Saragossa, where there
were no great accumulations of stores and munitions, the base of an
army of the size projected. All communication with France would
have been thrown on the hopelessly long and circuitous route from
Saragossa to Perpignan, for the pass by Jaca was impracticable for
wheeled traffic. Certainly Joseph would have had to destroy, as a
preliminary measure to a retreat via Salvatierra or Pampeluna, the
greater part of his train. And what would have become of his
wretched horde of refugees?
Another school of critics—among them Belmas—urge that while
it was perfectly correct to cling as a primary necessity to the great
road to France, Vittoria was not the right point at which to defend it,
but the pass of Salinas. Jourdan’s objection that the cavalry would
be useless in the mountains is declared to have little weight, and his
dread of famine to be groundless. For Wellington could not have
remained for many days in front of the passes—he must have
attacked at once a very formidable position, or Foy and the other
troops in Biscay would have had time to join the King; and with
15,000 extra bayonets the French would have been hard to dislodge.
The danger to Clausel would have been not very great, since
Wellington would not have dared to detach a force sufficient to crush
him, while the main French army was in his front, intact and ready to
resume the offensive. And on the other flank Biscay, no doubt, would
have been exposed to an invasion by Giron’s Galicians, when Foy
had withdrawn its garrisons to join the main army. But it is
improbable that this movement would have been backed by any
large section of the Anglo-Portuguese force; for Wellington, as his
previous action showed, was intending to keep all his own old
divisions in one body. He would not have risked any of his own
troops between the Pyrenees and the sea, by trying to thrust them in
on the back of the French position, to Durango or Mondragon. And if
Giron alone went to Bilbao and Durango, his presence in that
direction, and any threats which he might make on the King’s rear,
would be tiresome rather than dangerous.
Be this as it may, whatever the general policy of Jourdan and
Joseph should have been, their particular dispositions for occupying
the Vittoria position were very faulty. It was as well known to every
practical soldier then as it is now, that a normal river-position cannot
be held by a continuous line of troops placed at the water’s edge.
For there will be loops and bends at which the ground on one’s own
side is commanded and enfiladed by higher ground on the enemy’s
side. If troops are pushed forward into such bends, they will be
crushed by artillery fire, or run danger of being cut off by attacks on
the neck of the loop in their rear[548]. Unless the general who has to
defend a river front is favoured with a stream in front of him
absolutely straight, and with all the commanding ground on his own
side (an unusual chance), he must rather look to arranging his army
in such a fashion as to hold as strong points all the favourable
sections of the front, while the unfavourable ones must be watched
from suitable positions drawn back from the water’s edge. By
judicious disposition of artillery, the occupation and preparation of
villages, woods, or other cover, and (if necessary) the throwing up of
trenches, the enemy, though he cannot be prevented from crossing
the river at certain points, can be kept from debouching out of the
sections of the hither bank which he has mastered. And if he loads
up the captured ground with heavy masses of troops which cannot
get forward, he will suffer terribly from artillery fire, while if he does
not hold them strongly, he will be liable to counter-attacks, which will
throw the troops who have crossed back into the river. The most
elementary precaution for the general on the defensive to take is, of
course, to blow up all bridges, and to place artillery to command all
fords, also to have local reserves ready at a proper distance behind
every section where a passage is likely to be tried[549].
We may excuse Joseph and Jourdan for not entrenching all the
weak sections of their front—hasty field works were little used in the
Peninsular War; indeed the trenches which Wellington threw up on
the second day of Fuentes de Oñoro were an almost unique
instance of such an expedient. But the other precautions to be taken
were commonplaces of contemporary tactics. And they were entirely
neglected. The front liable to attack was very long for the size of the
defending army: whole sections of it were neglected. Bridges and
fords were numerous on the Zadorra: incredible as it may seem, not
one of eleven bridges between Durana to the north and Nanclares to
the south was blown up. The numerous fords seem not to have been
known accurately to either the attacking or the defending generals,
but some of the most obvious of them were ignored in Joseph’s
original disposition of his troops. Several alike of bridges and fords
were lightly watched by cavalry only, with no further precaution
taken. What is most astonishing is to find that bridges which were
actually used by French exploring parties on June 20th, so that their
existence was thoroughly realized, were found intact and in some
cases unguarded on the 21st[550]. The fact would seem to be that the
King’s head-quarters staff was dominated by a false idea: that
Wellington’s attack would be delivered on the south part of the river
front, from the defile of Puebla to the bridge of Villodas; and that the
troops discovered on the Murguia road were Longa’s irregulars only,
bound on a demonstration. An acute British observer remarked that
the French position had two main defects—the more important one
was that it faced the wrong way[551]: this was quite true.
The final arrangement, as taken up on the morning of June 20
was that the Army of the South arrayed itself so as to block the
debouches from the defile of La Puebla and the bridges immediately
up-stream from it—those of Nanclares and Villodas. Gazan did not
occupy the entrance of the defile of La Puebla—to do so he must
have stretched his line farther south and east than his numbers
permitted. But he held its exits, with some voltigeur companies from
Maransin’s brigade, perched high up on the culminating ground
immediately above the river.
From this lofty point on the heights of Puebla his first line
stretched north-eastward along a line of low hills, past the villages of
Subijana (low down and not far from the Puebla heights) and Ariñez
(on the high road, at the spot where it crosses the position), a
dominating point on the sky-line. The right wing nearly reached to
the Zadorra at the spot where it makes the ‘hairpin bend’ alluded to
above. But the solid occupation by formed troops did not extend so
far: there were only a cavalry regiment and three guns watching the
bridge of Mendoza[552], and a single company of voltigeurs watching
that of Villodas. The disposition of the units was, counting from the
French left, first Maransin’s brigade occupying Subijana, next
Conroux’s division in a single line on the slopes to the north of the
village of Zumelzu, with a battalion holding a wood in front on lower
ground. Then came Daricau’s division, one brigade in front line
across the high road, the other brigade (St. Pol’s) in reserve north of
the road, and in rear of Leval’s division, which was deployed on the
prominent height in front of the village of Ariñez, which formed the
end of the main position. Between Leval and the Zadorra there was
only Avy’s few squadrons of light horse, watching the bridge of
Mendoza. Nearly a mile to the rear of the main line Villatte’s division
stood in reserve, on the heights on the other side of Ariñez, and with
it Pierre Soult’s cavalry. The position was heavily gunned, as artillery
support went in those days. Each of the three front-line divisions had
its battery with it—a fourth belonging to Pierre Soult’s cavalry was
placed on a knoll in front of the position, from which it could sweep
the approaches from the bridge of Nanclares. In reserve behind
Ariñez was not only Villatte’s battery, but two others drawn from the
general artillery park, and during the early stage of the battle another
pair of batteries, belonging to the Army of Portugal, were sent to join
Leval’s divisional guns on the north end of the position. Gazan had
therefore some 54 pieces in hand, without counting the half-battery
of horse artillery belonging to Digeon’s dragoons, which was absent
far to his extreme right, by the banks of the upper Zadorra.
Three-quarters of a mile behind Gazan’s reserves, the whole
Army of the Centre was deployed on each side of the high road,
Darmagnac’s division north of it in front of Zuazo, Cassagne’s
division south of it, level with Gomecha. Treillard’s dragoons were
behind Cassagne; Avy’s chasseurs (as has been mentioned above)
were watching the Zadorra on the right.
In the original order of battle of the 20th the Army of Portugal had
been in third line, a mile behind the Army of the Centre, on a level
with the villages of Ali and Armentia. But when Digeon’s dragoons