How I Tried to Prevent a Planning Disaster in Irvine

 How I Tried to Prevent a Planning Disaster in Irvine

— The Story of an Architect, an Urban Planning Scholar, and an Ordinary Resident Who Became Involved in Irvine’s Public Affairs

Many people may not know that I once came very close to becoming a city planning scholar.

After earning my master’s degree from the School of Architecture at the University of Southern California (USC), I stayed at USC and continued my studies in the Urban Planning program, working toward a Ph.D.

By that time, I had completed all of my required coursework. I only needed to finish my dissertation, and I would have earned my doctorate.

But life often takes an unexpected turn just when you think everything has already been planned.

I found a job, and in order to establish my career and pursue my green card through employment, I took a leave of absence from the doctoral program and began working.

Several years later, I moved to Irvine and became a resident of the city.

I never imagined that several years after moving there, something would happen that would bring me back to many of the ideas I had studied in urban planning—and eventually lead me into the political arena of Irvine.

A Planning Decision That Concerned Me Deeply

Around 2014, the City of Irvine began pursuing plans for a Southern California Veterans Cemetery at the Orange County Great Park, on part of the former El Toro Marine Corps Air Station.

There was nothing inherently wrong with building a cemetery for veterans.

Veterans had served their country, and they deserved to be honored. They deserved a dignified, peaceful, and beautiful place where they and their families could remember and honor their service.

My question was never:

“Should we build a veterans cemetery?”

My question was:

“Where should such a large and important public facility be located?”

From an architectural and urban-planning perspective, those are two completely different questions.

In March 2014, the Irvine City Council passed a resolution expressing its support for providing at least 100 acres at the Great Park for a Southern California Veterans Cemetery. In July of that year, the City Council passed another resolution identifying approximately 125 acres of the ARDA site as the proposed location.

From my perspective as an architect and someone who had studied urban planning, the fundamental issue was not necessarily the project itself. It was the location and the public participation process.

How could a major public facility—one that could affect surrounding communities for generations—be planned without fully engaging the residents who lived nearby?

That does not mean residents should automatically get everything they ask for.

It means that residents should have an opportunity to understand the project, express their concerns, propose alternatives, and participate meaningfully in the decision-making process.

To me, that is one of the fundamental principles of modern urban planning.

A Book I Remembered From My Doctoral Studies

When I was studying urban planning at USC, I read a book that had a profound influence on the way I thought about large-scale planning projects: Peter Hall’s Great Planning Disasters.

The book examines a number of major planning and infrastructure projects and explores how ambitious projects can go wrong when political leaders, government agencies, planners, experts, and communities fail to properly address fundamental problems.

One of the lessons I took away from the book was this:

A planning disaster does not necessarily happen because someone deliberately makes a terrible decision. Sometimes it happens because a major decision is made without adequately considering different stakeholders, studying alternatives, or listening to the people who will ultimately live with the consequences.

So when I saw what was happening with the proposed veterans cemetery in Irvine, I had a strong feeling:

Could this eventually become a “Great Planning Disaster” for Irvine?

Of course, I did not know what would happen in the future.

But as someone trained in architecture and educated in urban planning, I understood one thing very clearly:

One of the greatest risks in urban planning is making a major decision about the wrong location and then discovering the problem only after millions of dollars have been spent, contracts have been signed, surrounding neighborhoods have been built, and the project becomes extremely difficult to change.

By then, it can be too late.

Why Were Some Residents Afraid to Speak Up?

By that time, Irvine’s population had changed dramatically. The Asian American population had grown substantially, and many Asian families had moved into neighborhoods around the Great Park.

Some residents had cultural and personal concerns about having a large cemetery near their homes.

But what struck me at the time was how hesitant some people seemed to be about expressing those concerns publicly.

The political discussion often appeared overwhelmingly supportive of the veterans cemetery.

And there was an understandable reason for that.

Supporting veterans is a position that naturally commands tremendous public respect.

But that created a danger of oversimplifying the issue:

Supporting the cemetery could be portrayed as supporting veterans, while questioning the location could be interpreted as opposing veterans.

But those are two completely different things.

I repeatedly made the same point:

We can fully support our veterans while still asking whether a particular location is appropriate for a cemetery.

A resident who questions the location of a cemetery is not necessarily disrespecting veterans.

On the contrary, good urban planning should be capable of doing both:

Respecting our veterans and respecting the surrounding residents.

That is what a mature public discussion should be about.

I Began Speaking at City Council Meetings

So I began attending Irvine City Council meetings.

Again and again, I spoke publicly.

I was not a professional politician.

At that time, I was simply an architect, someone with a background in urban planning, and an Irvine resident who cared about the future of the city.

My questions were straightforward:

Why couldn’t different locations be studied and compared?

Why couldn’t surrounding residents be given a meaningful opportunity to express their views?

Why couldn’t alternative sites be evaluated based on transportation, land use, environmental considerations, neighborhood impacts, long-term development, and other planning factors?

In fact, city documents from that period show that several potential locations had been considered, including the Great Park, Seal Beach Naval Weapons Station, Los Alamitos Joint Forces Training Center, Tustin Legacy, and Rancho Capistrano.

That reinforced my belief that the question should not simply be:

“Can we find a place to build it?”

The real question should be:

“What is the most appropriate place to build it?”

That is what planning is supposed to be about.

I Realized That Speaking Up Was Not Enough

Eventually, I realized something about local government:

As an ordinary resident, you can speak—but speaking does not necessarily mean you can change a decision.

Then an important political opportunity arose.

At the time, Irvine Mayor Steven Choi was preparing to run for the California State Senate, which created the possibility of a change in Irvine’s mayoral leadership.

Some of us who cared deeply about this issue began discussing whether someone should run for mayor and bring these concerns directly into the political process.

But after talking about it, no one really wanted to run.

Then I thought:

If I believed this planning decision was important enough to challenge, why couldn’t I do it?

If no one else was willing to step forward, perhaps I should.

So I decided to run for mayor of Irvine.

For me, it was a major decision.

I was not a professional politician, and I did not enter politics because I had a lifelong ambition to become a politician.

I simply believed:

If I think an important public policy issue deserves to be discussed, I should have the courage to put my position before the voters.

I Did Not Win the Election—But the Campaign Mattered

In 2016, I officially ran for mayor of Irvine.

I did not win.

According to the Orange County Registrar of Voters, I received approximately 14.5% of the vote, with other final statistical counts putting the figure at approximately 14.8%—essentially the “about 15%” that I remember.

I certainly did not become mayor.

But I did not consider the campaign a failure.

Running for office itself created another avenue for bringing an issue into the public conversation.

Before that, the issue had largely been discussed within City Hall and among various organizations and community groups.

As the controversy continued, more residents became involved.

More people attended public meetings.

Community organizations became active.

The issue received greater public attention.

And people began asking a fundamental question:

Where should a veterans cemetery actually be located?

That experience taught me something important:

Democracy is not only about winning elections.

Sometimes you run for office and do not win, but you put an issue on the public agenda. You encourage more people to participate. You force important questions into the open.

That can have an impact of its own.

The Final Outcome Was Better Than We Had Originally Imagined

Our original goal was actually fairly modest.

We were not necessarily trying to prevent a veterans cemetery from ever being built in Irvine.

What we hoped for was that, if the cemetery was going to be built at the Great Park, the city would at least reconsider the location and move it farther away from residential neighborhoods.

In other words, our “best-case scenario” was essentially:

Keep the cemetery in Irvine, but put it in a more appropriate location.

But the eventual outcome went even further than we had imagined.

Over the following years, Irvine considered a number of different locations and proposals, including the ARDA site, a proposed site near Bake Parkway and Strawberry Fields, and other potential locations.

In 2018, Measure B, which involved a proposed land exchange related to the cemetery, was rejected by Irvine voters.

Eventually, after years of controversy and discussion, Irvine did not proceed with building the veterans cemetery at the Great Park.

Instead, the project moved toward the Gypsum Canyon area in Anaheim Hills, outside Irvine.

In other words, what began with our hope of moving the cemetery to a better location within the Great Park eventually resulted in something that went beyond what we had originally imagined:

The proposed veterans cemetery was ultimately moved out of Irvine.

Of course, I would never claim that this outcome was caused by one person.

It was the result of many years of public debate, community activism, veterans’ organizations, government decisions, land studies, elections, and negotiations involving many different people and interests.

But I am proud that I was one of the people who raised the planning and community-participation concerns early, continued to speak at City Council, and eventually brought those concerns into a mayoral election.

What I Learned From This Experience

Looking back, the most important question for me is not:

“Did I become mayor?”

The answer is no.

Nor is it:

“Did I win the election?”

Again, the answer is no.

What I learned was something much more important:

An ordinary citizen is not powerless.

If you believe a public policy decision is wrong or deserves further discussion, there are many ways to participate.

You can attend City Council meetings.

You can write to your elected representatives.

You can organize with your neighbors.

You can present alternative proposals.

You can speak to the media.

You can participate in public hearings.

And, if necessary, you can even run for office and put your ideas directly before the voters.

The voters ultimately decide whether they support you.

That is an important part of American local democracy.

Good Urban Planning Requires Listening to Different Voices

When I studied architecture, I often heard the idea that:

Architects should help change society.

An architect should not merely design attractive buildings.

Likewise, an urban planner should not merely draw attractive master plans.

Ultimately, urban planning is about people.

And people have different cultural backgrounds, experiences, values, priorities, and concerns.

A good plan does not necessarily mean that everyone gets exactly what they want. That is almost impossible.

What matters is that:

Before a major and potentially irreversible decision is made, different voices have an opportunity to be heard.

That was one of the most important lessons I took from studying urban planning and reading Great Planning Disasters.

Large planning projects can go wrong not simply because of the physical project itself, but because of the way decisions are made.

Do Not Be Afraid to Put Your Opinion on the Table

This experience also taught me another important lesson.

Many people live in America for years without becoming involved in local politics.

They may think:

“Politics has nothing to do with me.”

“What difference can one ordinary person make?”

“The city has already made the decision. What can we do about it?”

But public policy is made up of thousands of decisions that directly affect ordinary people’s lives.

Where should a piece of land be developed?

Where should a road go?

Where should a park be located?

Where should a school be built?

How far should a major public facility be from residential neighborhoods?

These are not abstract political questions.

They affect our homes, our communities, our children, and our quality of life.

So when something genuinely matters to your community, I believe you should at least learn about it, study the facts, participate in the public discussion, and clearly express your views.

You may not be able to change the outcome.

You may not win an election.

Your proposal may not ultimately be adopted.

But if you never speak, people will never know what you think.

If you never participate, your voice will not be part of the decision-making process.

And if you have done everything you reasonably can and the final outcome is still not what you hoped for, you can at least say:

“I did my best.”

That may be the most important lesson I took away from running for mayor of Irvine.

I did not become the mayor of Irvine.

But I had the courage to bring an issue I believed was important into the public arena.

And when I look back on that experience today, I still believe:

A healthy city is not one where everyone agrees.

A healthy city is one where different voices have an opportunity to be heard.

That is what I believe as an architect, as someone who studied urban planning, and as a resident who cares deeply about Irvine.

A city belongs to all of its residents.

And public decisions should include the public.