The Beak of the Squid

From within the soft body of a squid emerges a hard tooth-like beak, as described in this report from the journal Science. This beak enables the squid to eat mollusks and is apparently one of the toughest organic materials around, and yet it’s somehow merged with what the report calls the squid’s “soft buccal envelope”—the soft, fleshy part of the creature. How does this work? How does something so sharp and pointy connect to something so squishy? It turns out there’s no specific place where the hard part ends and the soft part begins; rather, the beak is composed of materials that exhibit a gradient from hard to soft. It is this essential adaptation that enables the squid to eat what it needs to survive.

Such was the metaphor—thanks to Doug Walker of Placeways—that emerged from a recent convening in Denver designed to help the Foundation review and improve our use of story in Heart & Soul Community Planning. “Connecting stories to planning practice,” said Doug “is like connecting a squid’s body to its beak. Stories—and the values, wisdom, connections and human experience they represent—are the squid’s soft body…absolutely integral to what the squid is, but lacking sharp form. Planning implementation—zoning policies, capital improvements, sidewalks—are the squid’s beak, which is hard and sharp enough to crack bones and shells. How does the squid connect one to the other? It’s not glue or muscle; the beak actually has a stiffness gradient from one end to the other that makes for a strong, integrated connection. Similarly, I think, the wisdom and values of stories need to gradually blend into planning implementation, not be set aside as a separate piece of the process.”

Props to Doug for a really effective analogy (which we referred to over and over again throughout the convening). What strikes me is how difficult it has been in our Project Towns to articulate a framework that appeals to both planning aficionados and citizens who have never before participated in community land use decisions. Our partnership with five communities dispersed between Maine, Vermont, Colorado and Idaho tested the belief that storytelling, employed as part of a planning process, could bring new voices to the table, expand and deepen engagement, and reveal what people value most about their communities. Our evaluations have shown our belief to be true. Additionally, we’ve noted the bridge building and trust that emerges through the story gathering, telling and listening process. But as towns grow and develop, how do we preserve the integrity of these stories while at the same time analyze and draw conclusions that can be acted upon through regulatory documents?

Much credit must be given to the dedicated volunteers and staff in these towns, who have organized story circles, community focus groups and listening forums to draw out common themes and generate some hard results from this soft tissue. And here’s where Doug’s analogy comes in… What is our equivalent to that elusive chemical gradient fusing the squid beak with its body? Call it the Heart & Soul Values to Actions Gradient for the purposes of this post. Here’s what it looks like:

We take the soft themes and values from the stories to build a set of indicators for visualizing different future scenarios. Residents can then decide which scenario best fits their vision for the future and take the appropriate actions to ensure their decision is reflected in hard zoning policies, comp plans and capital improvements. This enables the storytellers (a.k.a. citizens) and the planners to become the co-creators of community change. Just as telling our personal stories can be a transformative experience, weaving a community narrative—a narrative that retains all the paradoxes and gradients of its individual stories—can lead to the transformation of a place.

So, do you buy it? What would your interpretation of the squid analogy look like?