A square may belong to everyone in theory, but that does not tell us whether it should host a market, a skate session, a protest, a quiet lunch or a line of parked cars. Those uses compete for space, money and tolerance. The answer is shaped by ownership, law, design and, often, the people with enough time and confidence to make themselves heard.
Public space is a civic negotiation made concrete. Its rules can determine who feels welcome in a neighbourhood long before anyone puts up a sign.
Public does not always mean public ownership
A council park, a railway concourse and the landscaped courtyard outside a shopping centre may all feel open. Their legal arrangements can be very different. Publicly owned streets and parks are governed by legislation and local rules; privately owned spaces open to the public may impose additional conditions. Opening hours, commercial events, security staff and restrictions on activities can all affect what access means in practice.
Even a wholly public place needs decisions about maintenance and competing claims. A path wide enough for wheelchairs and pushchairs, a bench in shade and a safe crossing are not decorative extras. They affect who can use the place. The World Health Organization notes that urban green-space interventions work best when the surrounding community and its needs are considered, especially if benefits are to reach people who currently have less access.¹
Consider a waterfront where the promenade is publicly accessible but its seating, security and events are managed by a private estate. The right to walk through may be clear while the right to hold a demonstration, take photographs or remain after dark is less obvious. Visitors rarely carry a map of these legal distinctions. They discover them when a guard intervenes or a gate shuts.
The question is therefore not simply who owns a square. It is who can enter, linger, gather, play, sell, speak and rest there — and at what cost.
The rules are built into the ground
Some decisions are obvious: a gate closes at dusk or a sign prohibits vehicles. Others arrive through design. A broad flat surface invites an event; closely spaced benches encourage a pause; a lack of toilets makes a long visit difficult. Lighting can make a route feel usable after dark. Walls, planting and traffic lanes can divide a neighbourhood without formally banning anyone.
These choices may be justified for good reasons. A busy road needs safe crossings; a sensitive habitat may need protection; residents may reasonably want relief from late-night noise. But a rule that solves one problem can create another. Removing benches to deter rough sleeping also removes somewhere to sit for an older person, a parent with a child or a worker on a break. A policy that sounds neutral may have unequal effects.
The UN-Habitat Global Public Space Toolkit treats public space as a matter of policy and management as well as physical design.² The important work is often unglamorous: budgets for cleaning, repair and staffing; accessible routes; and clear decisions about how different uses can coexist.
Whose voice reaches the meeting?
Local authorities, planners and landowners make many formal decisions. They may consult residents, businesses and community groups before changing a street or park. Yet participation is not automatically representative. A meeting held on a weekday evening may miss people with caring responsibilities or shift work. A consultation offered only online can miss those without reliable access. Children and people who do not speak confidently in the dominant language may have little influence over places they use daily.
A familiar conflict illustrates the problem. One group wants a square used for a weekend market. Traders see customers and income; nearby residents worry about noise and litter; disabled people ask whether stalls will block a level route; young people want somewhere to meet without being treated as a nuisance. None of these interests disappears because a majority wins a vote.
UN-Habitat’s guidance on public-space-led urban development argues for connecting national and local policy with practical participation.³ That does not mean every decision can please everyone. It means identifying who bears the inconvenience, who receives the benefit and whether the people most affected helped shape the options.
A place can be safe and still feel closed
Safety is a legitimate aim, but it has several meanings. A parent may want slower traffic and good sightlines. A teenager may want freedom to meet friends without repeated suspicion. A woman travelling home may care about lighting and reliable transport. A wheelchair user may need smooth surfaces and an accessible toilet. A space designed around one definition of safety can overlook the others.
This is why counting visitors alone cannot show whether a place is inclusive. Who comes, at what times, and who leaves quickly? Can a child travel there independently? Can someone sit without buying anything? A 2026 guide from WHO, UNICEF and UN-Habitat makes the case for public spaces that are safe, inclusive and useful to children, with attention to their everyday journeys as well as destinations.⁴
Public spaces also change over time. A temporary street closure might reveal demand for play; a community garden might bring neighbours together but require agreement about access and upkeep. Testing a change, listening to its users and revising it can reveal problems that a plan on paper misses.
The deepest answer to who decides is therefore uncomfortable but useful: many people do, with very unequal power. Better public space comes from making those decisions visible, widening participation and judging success by who can genuinely use the place. A square earns the word public through everyday access, not just through a label on a map.