The government's decision to abandon its cherished plan for the West Kowloon reclamation has been gleefully celebrated by its opponents. Now, it is argued, the administration can start over again and this time, get it right. Well, perhaps. But who is to say that the next blueprint to emerge will fare any better? After all, the government's original plan had much in its favour: I, for one, regret the loss of Lord Foster's visionary canopy. There was consultation, due process, compromise - and then retreat. This is a disappointingly familiar pattern. Think of Kai Tak, Central and Wan Chai, Tamar, Lantau and Aberdeen. The government has a good idea: an iconic administrative centre, a vibrant waterfront, an internationally competitive hub for the arts, - and then an ungrateful citizenry perversely declines to co-operate. Why? Even a cynic must admit that looking at our airport, our railways or exhibition facilities, neither the government's commitment nor its technical skills are in doubt. So what is wrong and how can the administration put it right? Two fundamental problems underlie and bedevil all the recent planning controversies: an archaic legal mechanism and an outdated approach to public consultation. Town planning as a professional discipline predates the Roman Empire, but in its present form it took shape during the 19th century in western Europe - in particular in Scottish cities such as Edinburgh. From there it was exported to Hong Kong as part, so to speak, of the colonial package. And it worked well enough for as long as it was concerned with discrete new areas that had minimal existing development, and did not need to concern itself with politics at all. But it is quite inadequate for the complex international city of today. The crucial areas surrounding Victoria Harbour - the focus of current debate - are divided between some 17 Outline Zoning Plans, each with its own fragmented history, engineering constraints and local priorities. Perhaps 30 government agencies share authority over different aspects of these plans - which is to say that there is no real authority at all. Under such circumstances, overall vision is impossible and we have to subsist instead on 'City of Life'-style slogans. And the government can pay no more than lip service to the holistic approach adopted in cities such as Barcelona and Melbourne. What happens, instead, is that the plan for a particular area is given a fancy name ('Kai Tak Glamour' is my favourite) to disguise the lack of vision. The government's planners are then obliged to fit into the area every previously approved constraint, however inappropriate, and then tidy up the edges - planning on autopilot, as it were. Both the administration and its critics are trapped within this system. Mutual suspicion, frustration - even court confrontation - are the result. Elsewhere, governments have co-opted the public into the decision-making process. They stand firm - really firm - on their vision, but allow much of the detail to be determined by the residents, workers and visitors who will actually have to live with the results. Strong government is combined with a popular mandate. One excellent example of this is London's redevelopment of a swathe of politically sensitive boroughs to accommodate its Olympic Games' facilities. In the wake of its decision on West Kowloon, the government has a golden opportunity to launch a radical reappraisal of its planning mechanism, combined with a broader and subtler approach to public consultation. What about a glass exterior for the new Tamar complex, as a first sign of a literally more open government approach? Andrew Wells is a former senior civil servant and a freelance writer