Strolling along Consell de Cent, in the heart of Barcelona’s Eixample district, one notices more green space than anywhere else in the centre. It is vibrant and full of movement, with delivery trucks, families, residents, tourists, cyclists, and passersby constantly crossing paths.

The Eixample’s distinctive grid pattern, often celebrated as one of the great achievements of modern urban planning, was designed by engineer Ildefons Cerdà in the mid-19th century. It was conceived as a rational and hygienic expansion of the overcrowded medieval centre. Cerdà imagined wide avenues, chamfered street corners, and tree-lined boulevards that would ensure light, air circulation, and equality of access for all residents, combining social reform with spatial order. Yet over time, much of this vision was undermined by the rise of motorised traffi­c. The grid that once embodied modernity and progress turned into a dense, traffi­c-dominated landscape with limited green space.

Today, Barcelona faces the consequences of that transformation. The city regularly exceeds air pollution levels recommended by the World Health Organization (WHO). According to the Barcelona Institute for Global Health (ISGlobal), cutting traffic by just 25 per cent could prevent around 200 premature deaths linked to nitrogen dioxide exposure annually. Another ISGlobal study estimates that environmental factors such as air pollution, heat, noise, and lack of green areas contribute to more than 1000 premature deaths every year, with fi­ne particulate matter (PM2.5) identi­fied as the main cause.

Recognising this urgent need to make the city more liveable, Barcelona City Council launched the “Superilles”¹ programme in 2015, developed from a theoretical framework devised by urban ecologist Salvador Rueda. Academic evaluations and international case studies suggest that the Superilles model offers a replicable blueprint for transforming dense urban environments worldwide, converting traffic-heavy grids into walkable, greener, and socially vibrant spaces. As the Barcelona City Council described in their original Superilles plan, “the programme sought to transform city streets by reclaiming space from private vehicles and returning it to pedestrians.” Conceived as a long-term model for urban transformation, the Superilles programme aimed to “create healthier and greener public spaces, prioritising social interaction, local economies, and safer environments.” After initial pilot projects in neighbourhoods such as Poblenou, Horta, and Sant Antoni, the programme expanded to include major interventions in the Eixample district, where it brought the most visible transformations.

The geometric and symbolic heart of Barcelona has become the laboratory of the city’s new urban model, featuring eixos verds (“green axes” containing extensive vegetation) and squares where pedestrians are prioritised. Stretching across the Eixample from west to east, the Consell de Cent was initially planned to form part of a larger Superilla, a cluster of blocks closed to through traffic. Over time, however, it evolved into the ­first and most emblematic eix verd of the city. What was once a heavily trafficked street became a continuous pedestrian-friendly corridor, with wider sidewalks, treelined pathways, benches, and permeable paving. This transformation not only rede­fined mobility patterns in the Eixample but also became symbolic of Barcelona’s attempt to reclaim public space, improve air quality, and foster social life.

The geometric and symbolic heart of Barcelona has become the laboratory of the city’s new urban model.

Internationally celebrated, locally contested

In 2023, the Eixample became the epicentre of a broader political and cultural struggle over the city’s future. The Superilles plan had started as an ambitious urban design experiment, but it evolved into one of the most divisive issues in local politics. Internationally hailed as a paradigm shift in urban planning, the initiative received a far more ambivalent response on the ground. While many residents within superilles supported the transformation towards greener, more pedestrian-friendly streets, opposition grew among those living elsewhere in the city. Rapidly, a discussion began on how the superilles went against the legacy of Cerdà and restricted the free circulation of cars. This unease was amplifi­ed by right-wing media outlets and on social media and was strategically channelled by Barcelona’s political and economic elites into resistance against the administration of Ada Colau, leader of the left-wing municipalist platform Barcelona en Comú.

As the 2023 municipal elections approached, the controversy over the Superilles project crystallised into a deeply polarised debate, unprecedented in the city’s history of mobility interventions. Business association Barcelona Oberta spearheaded a campaign against the project, framing it as a threat to economic vitality and urban identity, and even filed a lawsuit ordering the dismantling of parts of the intervention. This was upheld by the courts. There is no empirical evidence on the extent to which conflict cost Colau re-election, but the contestation over the Superilles programme clearly dented her popularity. Beyond party politics and the usual grievances surrounding construction works, the backlash revealed something more profound: conflicting imaginaries of what the city should be and who it is for.

Colau’s administration had positioned itself within a wider Southern European municipalist movement – exemplifi­ed by other cities such as Naples, where grassroots coalitions reclaimed public services and common goods, and Zagreb, where citizen-led initiatives advanced participatory and transparent governance – seeking to democratise urban governance, reclaim public space from private interests, and challenge the blind pursuit of economic growth in urban areas at the expense of residents.

Yet the fi­erce reaction to the superilles in the Eixample showed that transforming urban mobility is never merely a question of engineering. It touches on collective memories, urban attachments, and everyday practices that de­ne urban life itself. The conflict over the superilles thus exemplifies how cultural politics can both make and unmake urban transitions.

Urban culture wars

Europe is living through a profound crisis of values. Polarisation, distrust, and disillusionment are eroding the fabric of public life, while digital platforms amplify division at unprecedented speed. What once unfolded in the intimacy of homes or neighbourhoods now reverberates instantly across global networks, shaping narratives in real time. These platforms have opened up new arenas for democratic participation and contestation, but they have also created fertile ground for misinformation, manipulation and political exploitation.

Far-right forces have proven remarkably adept at navigating and exploiting this turbulence by translating widespread discontent into powerful narratives of resentment. For example, they have effectively framed climate action, feminism, and migration not as shared challenges but as elite conspiracies against “ordinary people”. Through culture-war tactics, they have successfully recast debates on sustainability and social justice into polarising moral struggles. After a period of genuine momentum, Europe’s green agenda faces mounting resistance. This so-called “greenlash” has exposed the fragility of climate consensus across the continent.

Cities, once celebrated as laboratories of democratic innovation, are now microcosms of these broader ideological battles. Disagreements around issues such as housing and mobility policies pit residents against one another and deepen distrust in institutions. Even seemingly mundane debates about bike lanes, low-emission zones, or local urban redesign can turn into symbolic battlegrounds over identity, belonging, and control.

Cities, once celebrated as laboratories of democratic innovation, are now microcosms of broader ideological battles.

This dynamic is not unique to Barcelona. In Brussels, heated disputes over new bike lanes have exposed divisions between environmental priorities and everyday mobility concerns. In Berlin, the reopening of the Friedrichstraße to car traf­fic has come to symbolise a retreat from ambitious sustainable mobility goals. In Oslo, controversies over reversing low-emission zones and cutting climate budgets have illustrated a growing pushback against green urban policies. Meanwhile, in France, protests in cities like Paris and Marseille – where slogans such as “Fin du monde, ­fin du mois, même combat” (“End of the world, end of the month, same fi­ght”) link ecological transition to economic precarity – reflect a broader tension between environmental imperatives and social justice.

To counter the far right’s surge, progressive forces must urgently rediscover the power of narrative. Understanding the cultural politics of contestation – that is, the processes through which particular cultural representations are created, stabilised, contested, and potentially reassembled (see Bruno Latour’s Reassembling the Social) – is not an academic exercise but a political necessity. It can help identify new opportunities to build broad coalitions, craft shared imaginaries, and unite people in common struggles against the concentration of power and wealth. To this end, we must learn to read political conflicts, including those around urban futures, not merely as policy disputes but as struggles over meaning. They are spaces where new, more inclusive futures can still be fought for and forged.

Engaging with conflict

“Consell de Cent has been the scene of a pitched battle. The transformation attacks a bourgeois territory par excellence. Some people have said to me: ‘How dare you act in the Eixample, in the neighbourhood of the bourgeoisie?’ I think the Eixample has a showcase effect on what the city means.”

Former Barcelona city offi­cial

The transformation of Consell de Cent did not just change a street; it touched a nerve. A thoroughfare that had once thrummed to a steady rhythm of cars, noise, and exhaust became a space for walking, for meeting, for sitting in the sun. For some, this change symbolised a new kind of city life – cleaner, slower, and more human. For others, it felt like an intrusion, an assault on individual freedom and on a “way of life” that had long defi­ned the Eixample. The conflict revealed something deeper than a disagreement over traffi­c: it became both a mirror and a catalyst of Barcelona’s social and cultural divides, reflecting existing tensions while also deepening and crystallising them through new forms of urban conflict.

At ­first, much of the resistance centred on the Eixample’s historical identity. This district has long been associated with the bourgeois values of order, modernity, and prosperity imagined by Cerdà in the 19th century. To many residents, its symmetry and openness represent civic pride and a certain ideal of progress. Blocking cars and recon­figuring intersections seemed, to some, like tampering with the very DNA of that model.

But the reaction was not uniform. The residents of the neighbourhoods involved expressed a range of emotions. There was nostalgia for the old city rhythms but also a quiet hope that the new green corridors could bring cleaner air, safer crossings, and more spaces for children to play.

On social media, especially on Twitter (now X), this ambivalence played out in real time. #ConselldeCent became a popular hashtag, and the debate turned into a citywide performance: engineers and architects argued with residents, local businesses shared “before” and “after” photos, and neighbours exchanged stories, frustrations, and jokes.

“The Eixample superilla is a bodge that attacks the avant-garde, hygienist, and rational urbanism bequeathed to us by Ildefons Cerdà,” someone complained on X. A resident wrote: “I’m lucky to live in Consell de Cent and that the superilles just happened to be here. Those who live on [nearby] Carrer de València […] these poor people are getting all the traffic.” Others agreed: “[The Eixample superilla] creates more space that isn’t dedicated to consumerism. Public space, enjoying it, is a right and should be for everyone.”

Such differences in opinion are neither new nor intrinsically counterproductive. Cities are spaces where cultures overlap, collide, and constantly renegotiate their coexistence. As political theorist Chantal Mouffe reminds us, democracy depends on this kind of friction, or what she calls “agonistic pluralism” – disagreement that keeps dialogue alive. The real challenge arises when disagreement turns into antagonism, when opposition stops being productive and becomes paralysing. In moments like these, public space turns from a shared arena into a battlefield of mistrust.

For Barcelona, the lesson is simple but profound. Change cannot rely on consensus alone, nor can it silence contestation. To transform the city, leaders and planners must learn to engage with conflict rather than fear it. That means recognising the attachments people have to streets, cars, and routines, and allowing those emotions to inform design. It also requires honesty about trade-offs and patience with adaptation.

More than two years after the ­first eix verd was completed in spring 2023, most residents agree that Consell de Cent has improved. Children play where cars once sped by, terraces fil­ll with laughter, and trees have begun to offer shade where there was once only asphalt. Yet challenges remain: researchers such as Isabelle Anguelovski warn of the risks of “green gentrification”, where environmental improvements may attract the affluent and push out lower-income residents. Others also point to the threat of further touristification, given that fears of overtourism have fuelled some of the opposition to the Superilles initiative and raised concerns about the balance between liveability and global visibility. Still, the overall view is one of general satisfaction. The contest that once defined this street has become part of its story, a necessary tension that forced the project to mature.

The case of Consell de Cent reminds us why cultural politics matter. Urban change is never only about infrastructure or design; it is also about meanings, identities and emotions, and the pace at which these can shift. The Superilla project shows that even well-designed policies can falter when they become too tightly tied to a partisan project. The lesson is not that conflict should be avoided, but that it must be managed over time: disagreement can be productive when it remains within an agonistic rather than antagonistic frame.

In Barcelona’s case, the benefits of the transformation became visible only after implementation, yet the political polarisation surrounding it risked paralysing debate. Recognising this temporal lag between policy and perception may be key to understanding why cultural change is as crucial and as slow as spatial transformation itself.

Urban change is never only about infrastructure or design, but about meanings, identities and emotions.

Listening, dialogue, and conflict

Barcelona’s superilles tell a story that goes far beyond urban planning. For many of the city’s residents, these changes mean the loss of a familiar way of life, a shared language, or a web of everyday relations. Nostalgia and fears of gentrification coexist with curiosity and hope. What may look like progress from the outside can feel imposed from within. Urban change, after all, is also about emotions, memory and belonging.

These tensions are not unique to Barcelona. Across Europe, projects that seek to rethink mobility or economic growth often face initial resistance before being accepted by majorities. But when the benefi­ts and burdens of change are unevenly distributed, even the greenest urban visions risk reproducing the very inequalities they seek to overcome.

In a context of deep polarisation and a wave of far-right politics, paying closer attention to inequalities is essential. True urban transformation takes more than a mix of asphalt and green. It requires listening, dialogue, and an acceptance of conflict as a natural part of democratic life. If cities learn to address these frictions and turn them into opportunities, they can imagine fairer and shared futures, where green spaces and conviviality grow together with respect for collective memory.

The author of this article is part of a research project funded by the British Academy and led by an interdisciplinary team from LSE Cities and the University of Amsterdam, entitled “Towards Post-Growth Cities: The Cultural Politics of Mobility Transitions in Barcelona and London”

---

1. A superilla (literally ”super island”, translated as “superblock”) is a cluster of city blocks closed to through traf­fic. ↩︎