Tidal Cities: Pedagogical (Mis)adventures in Game-based Visualizations of Adaptation Planning and Urban Justice

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UC Irvine
Teaching and Learning Anthropology
Title
Tidal Cities: Pedagogical (Mis)adventures in Game-based Visualizations of Adaptation
Planning and Urban Justice
Permalink
https://escholarship.org/uc/item/2vh4x8t7
Journal
Teaching and Learning Anthropology, 7(1)
Authors
Siriwardane-de Zoysa, Rapti
Herbeck, Johannes
Bimbao, Jose Antonio
et al.
Publication Date
2024
DOI
10.5070/T37161889
Copyright Information
Copyright 2024 by the author(s).This work is made available under the terms of a Creative
Commons Attribution-NonCommercial License, available at
https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/
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Teaching and Learning Anthropology Journal
Vol. 7, No. 1 (2024), pp. 166-177
ISSN: 2641-4260
CC BY-NC 4.0
COMMENTARY
Tidal Cities: Pedagogical (Mis)adventures in Game-based
Visualizations of Adaptation Planning and Urban Justice
Rapti Siriwardane-de Zoysa1*, Johannes Herbeck2, Jose Antonio Bimbao3,
Divya Rathod4
1Bonn Center for Dependency and Slavery Studies (BCDSS), University of Bonn &
the German Institute of Development and Sustainability (IDOS), Germany
2Sustainability Research Center (artec), University of Bremen, Germany
3Department of Architecture, Chaoyang University of Technology, Taiwan
4Beirbaum Aichele Landschaftarchitekten, Germany
*Corresponding author: rsiriwar@uni-bonn.de
Abstract
Tidal Cities was an interdisciplinary, transnational experiment that brought together an
environmental anthropologist, an urban geographer, and two landscape architects/artists.
We aimed at co-creating a visualization-based pedagogical tool for contemplating and
teaching manifold relations between the city and the sea, drawing on ethnographic
material from Metro Manila and Jakarta. The project was designed during the COVID-19
pandemic, and its digital format integrated an immersive role play component to spark
further debate among tertiary students. Players were encouraged to critically reflect on and
engage with trajectories and contestations around coastal planning and urban
placemaking, particularly in spaces of informality beset by recurrent flooding, tenurial
insecurity, and dispossession. While engaging with the poetics and politics of 2D visual
representation, we reflect on the thinking behind the game´s pedagogical co-design and
a number of paradoxes that arose from two test-runs with departmental students,
researchers, and teaching faculty in Bremen, Germany.
Keywords
: Immersive game development; coastal cities; infrastructural politics; power
and planning; visualization and the politics of representation; Southeast Asia
Introduction
Within urbanist and environmental social sciences, the development of pedagogical
material as research praxis and vice versa (digital or otherwise), remains an underexplored
theme (see Pandian et al. 2009; Gunn and Løgstrup 2014). The COVID-19 pandemic,
however, has re-centered attention towards remote teaching methods and modalities,

Tidal Cities: Pedagogical (Mis)adventures in Game-based Visualizations of Adaptation and Urban Planning
167
while heightening realities around intersectional inequality and inequity in accessing and
engaging in/with virtual spaces of learning. Moreover, digital fatigue and inertia that
settled on the academic community begged for fresh ways of engaging with and
interacting in digital space.
In this context, experimenting with a novel, interactive, and virtual form of talking about
transformations of coastal spaces has been a way of engaging audiences for the themes of
our BlueUrban research project. Since 2019, project researchers have explored the diversity
of coastal urbanities and the infrastructural politics of sea level change adaptation in island
Southeast Asia. Developing and testing the immersive game Tidal Cities has been a way
of addressing the emerging need for remote teaching formats.
Coastal cities stand to be read as peculiar socio-technical and nature-cultural
assemblages, for they are sites of grounded concretized fixity and places of dynamic
intertidal flux (Anand 2017; Bayes 2023). A great proportion of the world´s cities are along
seacoasts that remain precarious to the effects of slow-creep sea level change, shoreline
abrasion, land subsidence, and liquefaction that are intrinsically political processes. Global
coastal cities are also sites of extreme social inequality and inequity, as urban seacoasts
continue to be overbuilt, enclosed, and gentrified as global waterfronts and as icons of
state-building (Wade 2019).
Continuously fragmented spaces of unplanned urbanization further displace the urban
littoral poor, who depend on the sea for a living, further into the hinterlands (Batubara et
al. 2023). Moreover, diverse forms of coastal geo-engineering and placemaking weave
together antithetical imaginaries of urban coastal futurities—some that embrace protective
living away from water through extensive land reclamation and the armoring of land-sea
interfaces through embankments, dykes, groynes, and seawalls, for example (see Dewan
2021; Siriwardane-de Zoysa 2020), while other rationalities that embrace more
“amphibious” forms of infrastructural production as urban territorial-making expands out
to sea (see Adams 2015; Herbeck and Flitner 2019; Simpson 2016).
Taken together, these different understandings and competing visions of the urban
seacoast bring to the fore new forms of urbanity in which the city and sea are techno-
scientifically and politically integrated, often within market-led logics of late capitalism.
Those visions and their materializations often re-configure not only socio-spatial and
technical fabrics of built urban form, they also re-shape emerging kinds of sociality and co-
habitation with more-than-human life at the interstices of land, water, air, and the
subterranean.
To problematize these antipodal coastal urbanities (and imaginaries), we envisioned
Tidal Cities as a digital visualization-based pedagogical tool that was provocatively
informative, expansive, and playful at the same time. In the following, we will briefly situate
our work in the broader debates around game-based teaching approaches and the role of
design in them. We will then describe the development of our tool as a transdisciplinary

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experience before exploring some of the first experiences made with it after two test runs
in different academic settings in Bremen, Germany.
Urban Terra-aqueous on Canvas: Troubling Design and Game-based
Approaches
At first glance, it was comforting to acknowledge the open-ended experimental
nature of a pedagogical tool that prompted interdisciplinary co-creation. The
inspiration we drew from conceptual currents bore broad and lively brushstrokes, be
it decolonial writing on placemaking and counter-mapping, architectural and design
anthropology and sociology (see Büsse 2020; Hunt and Stevenson, 2017; Murphy
2016; Tsing et al. 2020), cultural geographies of landscape and affect (see Rose and
Wylie 2006), or approaches crosscutting landscape architecture, design activism,
critical urban planning, and community-driven visualization praxes (Cuthill 2004; Julier
2013; Martínez 2021; Sheppard et al. 2008).
The four of us come with long histories of working between West Africa and South
and Southeast Asia. Johannes Herbeck is an urban geographer with an interest in
climate-related policy and transport mobilities. Rapti Siriwardane-de Zoysa is an
environmental anthropologist who works on cultural histories of seacoasts, alongside
the politics of placemaking and its more-than-human relations. Divya Rathod is a
landscape architect with a penchant for exploring cultural waterscapes in her
experimental artivist-led illustrations. José Antonio Bimbao, a landscape architect
with extensive experience across the Indo-Malay-Philippine archipelago, deepened
our limited conceptual insights on landscape value, active mobility, and speculative
biophilic design.
Johannes and Rapti had been asked to develop a session for a lecture series
organized by the University of Bremen´s artec Sustainability Research Centre, the
university´s Institute for Anthropology and Cultural Research, and the interdisciplinary
and collaborative research platform the NatureCulturesLab. Departing from a classical
presentation format, we chose to engage with a different pedagogical exercise and
test a game-based approach that could be further sharpened and developed after the
first dry-run in the lecture series. The game was mainly designed for students in the
audience, and we expected mixed disciplinary backgrounds of the participants
crosscutting human geography, anthropology, and the marine social sciences.
With a broad range of possible disciplinary backgrounds of participants, our first
intention was to address transcultural expectations in this diverse setting by sparking
debate around public space, privatization, and social justice in two Southeast Asian
coastal megacities that German-based participants would find themselves familiar
with, to differing degrees. We were cognizant of not making claims on what might
seem typical to “southern” postcolonial port cities such as Jakarta or Manila. Yet, a

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169
composite case study from patchworked “field”-based narratives had to be created
in order to story a baseline problematic with which to begin.
This case scenario guided our joint work on conceptualizing the different roles
that participants were to be taking, as well as the descriptive texts and rules of the
game. To envision a “case-study” as realistic as possible, the baseline problematic
was presented in the form of a consultative meeting at the mayoral office. A select
number of pre-developed roles were introduced which included diverse state actors,
resident committee members, pro-poor activists, wildlife officials, heritage agency
representatives, and condominium real estate developers among others, who were
invited to the drawing board and consulted on plans for the creation of so-called
“adaptation” infrastructures within a broader context of coastal city-making.
The second, more practice-led question we had in preparing the game was the
extent to which these provoked critical refractions on coastal planning and
placemaking that could be visualized and made interactive by using a fitting online
format. We decided to use the open-source online platform Miro Whiteboard despite
the limitation to 2-D visualization. In the next step, with Divya’s and Bim’s expertise
in design, architecture, and urban planning, several modular art assets as coastal
infrastructural objects were designed to offer an array of visual depictions of possible
coastal futures that could serve as a basis for participants to create a collage on a
base photographic image of the Bay of Manila from our fieldwork. On the whiteboard,
these modular art assets (rather akin to puzzle pieces), could be moved around to
create a collage in layers (Figure 1). These modular art assets are to be assembled as
a collage on a “mood board.”
Figure 1. Sample of modular assets to be assembled as a collage on a “mood
board.” (Source: Authors)

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In line with broader debate around the infrastructural protection of urban coasts
in the face of global climate change, we paid particular attention to the mix of so-
called nature-based solutions, integrating grey, green, and “blue”/floating modular
assets (e.g., seawalls, groynes, amphibious installations) in the mix. The “canvasing”
of coastal protection and contested processes assembled on this digital whiteboard
(as a mood board) proved challenging in several ways, as we will illustrate.
Tenuous Test-runs: Of Blind spots and Paradoxes
Our first test run was at a virtual public seminar at the University of Bremen in December
2021. The session started with a short content input by Rapti and Johannes describing and
sharing some of the insights from a research project on coastal transformation and sea
level change adaptation in urban Southeast Asia. Participants involved both students and
faculty members from the Department of Geography and the Institute of Ethnology and
Cultural Studies. After the short talk, participants were divided equally between two
breakout rooms with ourselves as facilitators. The game was played virtually and the
Players’ Guide, including a scenario statement of the particular coastal space and its
contested politics, was shared with the participants.
The role-play component of the game enabled players to choose from a variety of
diverse formal and less formal institutional roles. Each role was provided with a confidential
“agenda” that also indicated who their likely allies might be, and these mission statements
were shared independently with each player though Zoom’s chat function.
While the players in the two groups familiarized themselves with two separate yet
identical Miro Whiteboard canvasses, we took the time to explain the budgetary
considerations that formed the crucial parameters of the selection process. For the sake of
simplification, each modular asset came with its own price tag, and a municipal budget
limited how much could be spent on the entire exercise at coastal placemaking.
We further formulated several questions that prompted debate and sought to unpick
competing narratives. Our focus was on the kinds of ruptures, fragmented meanings, and
silences that materialized during such power-laden negotiations. Our discussion prompts
were woven into the Facilitators’ Manual we had put together and plied at socio-temporal
dimensions around the creation of normatively desirable spaces, efforts at
invoking/integrating the “past” (if relevant), and reflections on the trajectory of the
respective negotiation process, in particular:
1. How would you see this strip of coastline in a way that enables inclusive living for
human and more-than-human communities?
2. Did you think of ways of integrating landscape memories and place attachments
into the coastal setup and future? What were your challenges?
3. In your view, what would an inclusive process look like? How did you raise this in
contestations around coastal transitions?

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Both groups had half an hour to contest and co-construct a coastline based on
unanimous decision-making, from images to their implementation. Socio-environmental
justice, “sustainability,” and social inclusion were determined by the group as guiding
values and principles that prompted the partial materialization of the virtual coast in its
present form, yet participants were limited by time. In both groups, discussions took some
time to take off, most probably also due to the high amount of information participants
had to digest before actively engaging with the role people had chosen. Moreover,
intersectional classed, racialized, gendered, and sexual identities that continually remake
urban politics of in/exclusion, particularly in public spaces of fantasy and spectacle such as
beaches and waterfronts (see Lobo 2014), are further left to be explored through such
“adaptation”-led infrastructural stories.
In one group, one or two senior faculty members would be the first to start the
deliberation around potential coastal futures and would in some way also set the tone for
further debates. One of the players had chosen the role of property developer and would
strongly defend respective positions from the very beginning, clearly aiming at pushing
coastal real estate developments (such as a memorial park), while prioritizing the
valorization of the existing coastline. The conversational turn gradually generated
resistance from other participants who would argue, according to their respective roles, for
consideration of livelihood struggles among local fisher communities, or for environmental
or human rights aspects in re-planning the coast. After encountering some issues with
accessing the whiteboard, it was used to simultaneously foster debate while undergirding
which contrasting positions and views around redevelopment ought to take shape.
Participants’ willingness to negotiate compromise was relatively minimal, and the more or
less chaotic use of different visual elements on the virtual whiteboard reflected this: there
was no attempt to re-organize the group or discussion; instead, everyone seemed intent
on pursuing their own agendas while translating their aspirations into visual representations
of a partially “remade” coastline.

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Figure 2. A demo coastscape canvased on Miro (Source: Authors)
One of the successes of the test run could be attributed to the performative component
of the game that brought to the surface conflicts around values and aspirations with respect
to what a “desirable” urban shoreline was against an array of vested socio-economic,
cultural, and political interests. It did not, anyhow, lead to internal agreements on certain
“rules of the game,” i.e., attempts to organize the balancing of different interests among
the groups. We also did not observe the emergence of interest coalitions that would
outweigh the limited menu of solutions, for example through the very offensive strategies
that single actors believed they had recourse to. Yet such creatively emergent aspects must
be viewed in light of a very limited time for doing the exercise—in fact, after explaining
the roles and distributing the agendas, and after everyone had acquainted themselves with
the Miro board, time for the actual exchange had been rather limited.
Un/learning to Transgress: Between Dualisms and Generative
Misadventures
Following both test runs at the University of Bremen and later at an institutional
research setting at the Leibniz Institute of Tropical Marine Research (Bremen),
participants were invited to share their own challenges and misgivings on the game´s
pedagogical promises. One of the questions raised was how one might envision this
exercise to unfold in a less scripted way. For example, would discussions have been
more complex and richer if players were given the opportunity to do more in-depth
reading on disparate urban contexts and the coastal dynamics at play? A participant
during the first test-run began by expressing:

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You are often left feeling skeptical of “games” like these where there’s a real
danger of people performing what they already knew, and thus missing the
opportunity to think expansively.
—Faculty member, Cultural Anthropology (Bremen)
Moreover, we asked what was lost in facilitating a discussion that provokes a
rethinking of such planning binaries and what spaces for rupture existed. Indeed,
while dualistic framing pervades much of coastal urban planning and their
paradigmatic imaginaries, did this pedagogical exercise-as-game reinforce more
binaries than they dismantled? Such weak spots were captured in planning-centric
questions that were raised; for example, “what might be considered more vulnerable
in the future of climate change: big infrastructural projects made of concrete or
smaller homes built with different types of materials?”
Over the course of our discussion, as many as eight core planning dualisms were
mentioned in such deliberative debates—questions around rewilding or
domesticating waters and urban “nature,” coastal submergence/”managed retreat”
versus active land reclamation, the politics of co-living better on either “dry” terra
firma or on wet, fluid spaces, grey versus blue-green design, and the kinds of urban
nature-cultures that were either reviled or desired, or rendered valuable by virtue of
their extractability or “preservationist” aesthetic nature. Thus, the imaginaries of the
terra-aqueous and indeed the imaginative interstices of land and sea were lost in our
pedagogical forays.
Figure 3. Example from Group 2, “Working with the informal amphibious.”

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Furthermore, students were critical of the fact that we framed modular assets as
partial or half-baked “solutions” rather than as more-than-human networks or
assemblages that could be anticipated. The pregiven nature and simplification of
these solutions created their own gridlocks and path dependencies , a number of
players argued. For example, as another architecture-trained participant critically
questioned:
What is your end-game? Could you envision this turning into a decolonized
board game that would sit antithetically to something like Monopoly? This
could be super useful within certain African urban contexts as well, if it were
made more open-ended. Could you for instance add in a second layer, for
example different costs for sanitation models?
—Teaching staff, Architecture (Cape Town)
The closed versus open-ended nature of the game proved limiting in several ways.
For example, how realistically could this assembled menu of solutions be treated in
the light of their simplified pregiven trade-offs? It almost seemed as if these kinds of
enactments warranted a (theatrical) willing suspension of disbelief, captured in the
statement by a graduate student: “could we have considered just half a dyke?”
Further critiques raised by participants pertained to the degree to which performative
aspects of the role-play could be made behaviorally expansive, for example allowing
for walk-outs and for other unexpected trajectories to unfold.
Finally, one of the key challenges that emerged was in its time constraints, for an
hour was far too short a time with which participants could familiarize themselves with
other’s roles, missions, and the game’s technical components. Ideally, the game
would call for a preparation time of a week in which students could choose their roles
and institutional agendas while thinking of creative ways of filling modular art assets
with their own storied worlds and infrastructural (after)lives.
Conclusion
How did Tidal Cities, as a mode of game development for teaching, prompt us to think
in new ways about the specificities of urban coastal placemaking, their historicity, and for
theorizing the heterogeneity of coastal urbanity? As a material device, how did this
visualization game spark engagements for multimodal teaching formats, and what new
learning did we draw from this experimental interdisciplinary encounter?
Our hope while conceptualizing the game was that through the performative
negotiations during the game, together with the very act of moving around art assets on
the blank canvas, participants would collectively derive an embodied sense of contested
coastal city-making as well as the emotional lives of municipal policymaking. More
generatively, it proved to be a pedagogical exercise in “worlding” the redesign of a
coastscape, in which the whiteboard itself could be metaphorically read and critiqued as a

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tabula rasa, referencing the poetics and politics of socio-spatial and temporal erasure and
rewriting.
Tellingly, the singularized role play scenario reproduces a hypermodernist urban
planning milieu, while nevertheless closely mimicking experiences that Bim and Divya, as
landscape architects, were all too familiar with in their own professional histories.
Meanwhile, remade infrastructural collages betrayed a number of binary visions that haunt
conceptualizations around contemporary coastal urbanity—in all their plurality, which we
found challenging to teach ourselves to transgress (see hooks 1994). In Divya´s words, the
“reconstructed panorama” came locked in with its own normative visions, and it was
suggested that the pedagogical game might be far more suitable for unthinking questions
around longer term-based value judgements of development interventions. Thus, the
current format may prove counter-productive at times when exploring the messiness of
top-down planning and deliberative participation, in which intertidal flux and flow both
unmake and remake urban lifeworlds of the littoral city. For example, world-making
paradigms that we sought to convey remained rigidly differentiated between protective
living away from tidal incursions on the one hand, and living with/building on water on the
other.
As a way forward, how might we interweave networked assemblages and the more-
than-human agency of tides, sediments, plants, and animals—as urban architects in their
own right—into the very fabric of this pedagogical game? Indeed, our own theorizations
of/around coastal urbanities, as both figure and as method, leave us contemplating modes
of being, belonging, and in/exclusion in which oceans are being increasingly urbanized
through imaginaries of floating futures. At the very least, these new materialities upend the
mythologies of geographic fixity and situatedness of the urban, while offering new ways of
grappling with meanings, practices, and knowledge circulations that have often been
rooted in and routed through recalcitrant flows of saltwater, entangling the atmospheric,
deltaic, aquifer, and its riparian.
Acknowledgements
This experimental project was generously funded by the DFG-SPP 1889 Regional Sea
Level Change and Society initiative via the BlueUrban project (blueurban.org). We thank
Angela D. Storey together with participants and organizers of the Critical Urban
Anthropology Association´s (CUAA) Teaching the City Workshop for their continued
feedback. Moreover, we are grateful to members of the Leibniz Centre for Tropical Marine
Research (ZMT), and the Department of Geography and Anthropology at the University of
Bremen for offering their critical comments during presentations at which this pedagogical
tool was first tested. In particular, a special thanks to Ann-Marie Ellmann van Rhyn, Priya
Agarwal, Michaela Büsse, Laurent de Laroche Souvestre, and Remmon Barbaza for sharing
ideas during its initial development.

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