Agora Journal of Urban Planning + Design Vol 9 by Agora Journal of Planning and Design

AGORA 9

ISSN

Agora Journal of Urban Planning + Design is the annual, student-run journal of Urban Planning and Design of Taubman College of Architecture + Urban Planning at the University of Michigan. 2331-2823 Agora Volume 9 2015, Regents of the University of Michigan This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution Non commercial - Share Alike 4.0 International License.

Type Printing Acknowledgements

Bebas Neue, Gotham, and Roboto Slab First Impression Printing Ann Arbor, Michigan Funding for this publication was generously provided by the Saarinen-Swanson Endowment Fund.

2000 Bonisteel Boulevard Ann Arbor, MI 48109-2069 USA www.agoraplanningjournal.com

University of Michigan Taubman College of Architecture + Urban Planning Agora Journal of Urban Planning + Design Volume 9 | 2015

a9 staff

e dito r in c h ie f Alexandra Markiewicz

c r e ativ e dir e c to r Pier Amelia Davis

dir e c to r s o f pr o duc tio n + de v e l o pme n t Chris Herlich + Brad Vogelsmeier

a r tic l e s e dito r Mikah Zaslow

sy mpo s ium e dito r Michelle Bennett

e dito r ia l s ta ff Aayat Ali Eric Burkman Betsy Cooper Braden Mitchell Tricia Pontau Kathleen Reilly

c r e ativ e s ta ff Mike Auerbach Erin Bozarth Scott Fox Wajiha Ibrahim Daniel J. DJ Mason Lesley Rivera Dan Sommerville

008 010 012 018 032 042 050 061

L e tte r fr o m th e de a n Dr. Monica Ponce de Leon

S tate o f th e jo ur n a l Dr. Scott Campbell

l e tte r fr o m th e e dito r Alexandra Markiewicz

tr immin g bac k th e fa ir h o us in g ac t Nick Kabat

e x a min in g th e l o s a n ge l e s me tr o Frank Romo

e min e n t do ma in Luke Norman

R e de s ign in g E mpty Tianyi Gu

sy m po s i u m - po li ce b r u ta l i ty Dr. Harley F. Etienne, Michelle Bennett, Danielle Jacobs, and Lacey Sigmon

074 085 098 108 118

th e po l itic s o f po w e r a n d publ ic s pac e Wajiha Ibrahim

Th e pus h fo r ta x c r e dit r e fo r m Brad Vogelsmeier

S h a r e d e q uity h o me o w n e r s h ip Matt Warfield

a Dic h o to my o f c ultur e s Pier Amelia Davis

div ide d c itie s Parisa Mard Mehdiabadi

Pier Amelia Davis “The Quickest Way Down” San Francisco, AGORA 9California

monica ponce de leon

letter from the dean

Dean and eliel saarinen collegiate professor of architecture + URBAN PLANNING

This yearâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s volume of Agora, â&#x20AC;&#x153;Divisions,â&#x20AC;? explores the complicated lines that demarcate social, economic, racial, and ideological barriers in urban environments across the globe. The diversity of the material selected speaks to the complexity of the issues: full-length essays and shorter symposium pieces are presented alongside spatial analyses, photojournalism, and design. What the works collected here have in common is that each piece exposes how these divisions have tangible, physical manifestations; and more importantly, how divisions are caused, reinforced and sustained by the physical reality around us. Agora 9 exposes spaces and buildings as agents that directly impact inequity, segregation, and even violence, with planning as a protagonist in understanding, addressing, and sometimes causing the dramatic disparities of our time.

Authors explore a wide range of case studies. Some articles analyze how social inequity is exacerbated in places such as Karachi, Nicosia, Jamaica, Detroit, or Los Angeles by their infrastructure and urban fabric. For example, violence and insecurity in Karachi cannot be severed from the morphology of its urban spaces with pockets of high density and archipelagos of secure enclaves. Access to water in Detroit can be thought of in parallel to access to transportation in Los Angeles, not only as a sign of inequity, but as its enabler. Along the same lines, the essays resulting from the symposium address the implicit and explicit roles that planning and planners have played in enabling police brutality in American cities. At the heart of these pieces is the argument that planning must do more and that silence is beyond complacency and equals complicity. Several articles examine the intersection between housing and inequity in the United States, evaluating the relationship between government policies, financing, legislation, and the physical reality of housing. In these essays, eminent domain is recast as an imaginative tool to prevent

foreclosures; shared equity homeownership is presented as a means of providing affordable housing to low income families and still allows for wealth accumulation; and the disparate-impact test is argued for as a means of proving a violation of the Fair Housing Act. As a whole, this issue of Agora also argues for the power of planning and design to enable change. Every essay contains a call to action. By imagining alternative realities, planners have the ability not only to expose inequities, but also to advocate and construct better futures. MONICA PONCE DE LEON

AGORA 9

scott D. campbell

State of the journal

ASSOCIATEPROFESSOROFURBANANDREGIONALPLANNING, UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN

In this era of digital media, many have written the obituary of traditional print formats. But here in Agora, the ever clever and inventive planning students have found new life in the format. What they have crafted is neither a retro act of preservation nor an ephemeral stream of blog posts, but a substantive and multi-faceted hybrid of old and new. The print journal gives coherence and a tangible, in-the-hand form to a collection of ideas and arguments. In the impressive Agora web pages, they have expanded this home base. And each year the Agora staff, with considerable graphic skills and dedication, evolves the format and experiments in new directions. Nine years ago a small, energetic and seemingly over-optimistic cluster of planning students dreamed up the idea of a student-run journal,

gave it the ambitious Greek name for a gathering place (which befits planning’s emphasis on collective thinking and public spaces), and plowed ahead into uncharted terrain. At the time the student editors were too busy soliciting articles, collaborators, funding and supporters to imagine — beyond getting that first issue to the printers — that they were launching a new tradition within the program. But a tradition they did trigger, one that this current cohort of editors and contributors ably continue. Agora has worked its way into the heart of planning student life here at Michigan, along with the annual Martin Luther King Jr. event, the Expanded Horizons trips, and the capstone projects in Detroit.

Agora each year attracts a remarkable, dedicated cadre of students who devote late hours and long weekends to making this journal as strong, professional and relevant as possible. Agora challenges students to work on something outside the classroom, to stalwartly craft, refine, and perfect the content and format in a lengthy schedule over an academic year. They confront the real challenges of giving and receiving criticism. Most importantly, they explore the power of writing as a tool beyond the classroom. I encourage the editors and contributors of Agora to take courage and inspiration from this experience; after graduation, to continue to use the

leverage of well-reasoned, persuasive words in the professional world; and to see writing as a tool as powerful as a map, a design, or a budget. So read the articles, linger over the images, and glimpse the worldview of the next generation of planners and urbanists. But also bookmark www.agoraplanningjournal.com. The website is a portal to a rich collection of images and words that didn’t fit neatly within the bounded pages. It empowers the student editing team to experiment with new formats, narratives, visual and documentary forms to explore cities, planning, and the graduate student experience. And then return to the printed publication: a format that is still inimitable in the power to sustain a focused voice of argument and inquiry. Congratulations to the Michigan planning students for a great issue and year-long stream of live and virtual activities. The journal continues, expands, matures, evolves — it is a living, dynamic, ongoing project. SCOTT CAMPBELL (who shares the role of Faculty Advisor with Julie Steiff)

AGORA 9

letter from the editor

alexandra markiewicz editor-in-chief, master of urban planning, 2015

“Divisions” emerged as a theme while the staff of Agora rounded out the selection for Agora 9 on a chalkboard in a Taubman classroom one January morning, after hours of review and discussion about submissions. As a group, we saw how the selected pieces focused on social, economic, and political inequities and barriers. Last year, we more gradually came upon the theme “Alternatives” for Agora 8 as we edited piece after piece presenting an innovative strategy planners could employ to bring about change in our cities. Together, the articles inspired hopefulness in readers – a sense of our ability to institute better, sounder policies and ideas in our practice. While such hope is not too naïve or lost, events of 2014 in cities across the United States and the world serve as stark reminders of the ageold barriers that urban dwellers and planners face. Incidents of police brutality against black Americans in the United States spurred protest and discussion about race relations; protests regarding the World Cup in Brazil shone a spotlight

on the country’s disconnect between political goals and the needs of the large section of the population living in poverty. These events, and countless more, reveal deep cuts in our society that influence and shape urban development.

Agora 9 tells stories about some of the divisions and challenges embedded in our cities. A number of pieces critique how housing policies, laws, and planning decisions create segregation along racial and economic lines in the United States. Two pieces explore more effective, successful strategies for addressing these issues, complementing the pointed critiques. Others explore social divides in cities and countries across the world, providing valuable insight into how divisions manifest in varied cultural contexts. The addition of content types including photojournalism, conceptual design, and spatial analysis expands the perspectives through which readers can understand and reflect upon these stories and issues. In Symposium 001, four short articles confront the relationship between planning and police brutality, responding to the tragic events that brought police brutality to the forefront of our national consciousness this year. They address important questions about the role of planning in constructing spaces where police brutality occurs and what we, as planners, can do about it in the future. We present four different perspectives to ignite discussion of various aspects of this timely, vital issue in planning.

Planning strategies that foster participation and consensus building, such as those explored in Agora 8, can work to break down barriers dividing our cities, but we must remember that these barriers cast long shadows. Addressing issues related to racial and ethnic prejudice and economic inequality requires us to simultaneously look forward and backward – we must acknowledge how we created these divides before we can repair them. More importantly, we must recognize how we are currently enabling systems of oppression to endure in urban landscapes, whether through policies, patterns of development, or other mechanisms. I would like to recognize all of our authors for their hard work, patience, and, most importantly, valuable contributions to written thought and discussion in our department and beyond. Thanks to them and the dedication of our remarkable editors, creative staff, and faculty advisors, Dr. Scott Campbell and Dr. Julie Steiff, Agora 9 contains pieces that confront seemingly overwhelming “wicked problems” in planning in a way that demonstrates thorough analysis of and deep passion for the issues at hand. Finally, I invite you, a reader, to become a writer: use the space we provide at the end of this volume to reflect on the ideas discussed and explore how to overcome these barriers.

Best wishes, ALEXANDRA MARKIEWICZ

AGORA 9

contributors MICHELLE BENNETT is a first-year graduate student in Urban Planning, concentrating in Housing, Economic, and Community Development. She joined the University of Michigan program to be close to Detroit and to study issues of income inequality and labor relations.

PIER AMELIA DAVIS is a second-year graduate student in Urban Planning, concentrating in Physical Planning and Design. Her focus lies in integrating functional, sustainable design within the built environment.

HARLEY F. ETIENNE is an Assistant Professor of Urban and Regional Planning. He teaches in the areas of urban community development, inner-city revitalization, neighborhood change, urban poverty, and qualitative research issues in planning. He recently co-edited a book titled Planning Atlanta and is also the author of the book Pushing Back the Gates: Neighborhood Perspectives on University-Driven Change in West Philadelphia.

TIANYI GU is a first-year graduate student in Architecture. Her research interests focus on public policy, international development, and transitional planning for conflict prone regions in the Middle East and South Asia.

WAJIHA IBRAHIM is a first-year graduate student in Urban Planning. Her research interests focus on urban security and informality within disaster and conflict prone regions.

Danielle Jacobs is a dual-degree graduate student in Urban Planning and Public Health. She is interested in bringing a health equity and social justice lens to urban planning and public health practice.

NICK KABAT is a second-year graduate student in Law and Urban Planning from Niskayuna, NY. His interests include spatial segregation, equal protection, civil rights, economic justice, and winter biking. He currently resides in Ann Arbor, Michigan with his six roommates, textbooks heâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s too lazy to sell, and his bonsai plant Sammy VII.

PARISA MARD MEHDIABADI is a second year graduate student in Architecture. She received her BA in Architectural Studies from the University of Washington in 2011. This paper was written as a research paper for Architecture 507 â&#x20AC;&#x153;Theorized Space.â&#x20AC;?

LUKE NORMAN is a second-year graduate student in Urban Planning focusing on Community Development and Transportation. After graduation he will begin his planning career in Portland, Oregon as a 2015 Hatfield Resident Fellow. As an aspiring planner, he is committed to developing equitable cities and expanding transportation options for all communities.

FRANK ROMO is a trained community organizer and educator; his main area of expertise is in community development and educational attainment in low-income communities. His research seeks to find innovative ways to plan in low-income communities using an equity-based and asset-based approach to urban issues.

LACEY SIGMON is a second-year graduate student in Urban Planning concentrating in Housing and Community Development. She is interested in innovative community engagement strategies, collaborative planning, and how planning can challenge the physical and geographic manifestations of systematic social inequities.

BRAD VOGELSMEIER is a second-year graduate student in Urban Planning and enrolled in the Graduate Certificate Program in Real Estate Development. He holds a BA in Urban Affairs from Butler University and his interests include downtown revitalization, real estate development, and strategic land use planning.

matt warfield is a dual-degree graduate student in Social Work and Urban Planning. His graduate research has focused on community wealth building in lowincome urban areas. His passion for cities is shaped by his experiences of working and living in Detroit, Austin, D.C., and Baltimore.

AGORA 9

Photographers Pier Amelia Davis Master of Urban Planning, 2015

Samantha Farr Master of Urban Planning, 2015

cory heck Master of Architecture, 2015

chris Herlich Master of Urban Planning, 2015

john monnat Master of Architecture, 2015

Yunzhi OU Master of Architecture, 2015

Kathleen Reilly Master of Urban Planning, 2016

brad vogelsmeier 16

Master of Urban Planning, 2015

John Monnat “One Please” Hyderabad, India

Trimming Back the Fair Housing Act REVIEWING RECENT SUPREME COURT LITIGATION OVER THE SCOPE OF THE FAIR HOUSING ACT Nick Kabat Juris doctor + Master of Urban Planning, 2017

This article discusses the likely Supreme Court invalidation of the disparate-impact test as a means for proving a violation of the Fair Housing Act. It analyzes the arguments of the competing sides in support of and opposed to continued use of the disparate-impact test, in particular the arguments of fair housing advocates, HUD, and the banking and insurance industries. It concludes that the disparate-impact test remains an important tool in the continued fight against unfair and unequal housing policies.

hortly after Hurricane Katrina destroyed much of its multifamily housing stock, St. Bernard Parish, a predominantly white community bordering New Orleans, issued an ordinance restricting the rental of single-family residences to blood relatives of the property owners.1 The city claimed the ordinance would preserve the character of the community—a community where 93% of homeowners are white.2 It did not expressly mention race; however, its effect was to severely limit the number of rental units available to minorities. To all local observers, its discriminatory intent was clear. Under current federal law, the ordinance is a violation of the Fair Housing Act—an example of so-called disparate impact, where minorities fare worse than similarly situated whites without a legitimate justification. Without disparate impact, however, the law would likely stand in the absence of any evidence of intent to discriminate.

Two of the cases settled before the Supreme Court could adjudicate them. The Court heard the third case—Inclusive Communities Project v. Texas Department of Housing and Community Affairs5 —on January 21, 2015. Legal observers predict that the court will invalidate continued use of the disparate impact test in the fair housing context, likely ruling that Congress never intended to permit the use of the disparate impact test in the FHA context.6

The Fair Housing Act (FHA), enacted in 1968, prohibits discrimination in housing. An early issue for courts was whether the FHA prohibits laws, regulations, policies, or actions, like the blood relative law described above, that appear racially non-discriminatory but nonetheless limit the availability of housing for minority groups. The Seventh Circuit, in the 1975 case Metropolitan Housing Development Corporation v. Village of Arlington Heights,3 determined that the FHA indeed permitted plaintiffs to bring disparate impact claims. Since then, ten other circuit courts have agreed with the Seventh Circuit, upholding the applicability of disparate impact in the fair housing context.

This paper will review that case and argue against the court’s expected conclusion. Specifically, it will argue that the drafters of Title VIII of the Civil Rights Act (the Fair Housing Act) did intend to permit disparate-impact litigation, and in the event of any ambiguity, the court should defer to the interpretation of the agency tasked with enforcing Title VIII—the agency for Housing and Urban Development (HUD)—which has repeatedly endorsed the disparate-impact test. The first part will provide background on the disparate-impact test and the opinions of its proponents—fair housing advocates—and its detractors—large financial institutions, state housing agencies, and insurers. The second part will review the legal dispute over the disparate-impact test and argue in favor of affirming its application to fair housing cases.

In recent years, however, the Supreme Court has agreed to hear three cases questioning the collective judgment of the circuit courts on the applicability of disparate impact under the FHA.4

An early issue for courts was whether the FHA prohibits laws, regulations, policies, or actions that appear racially nondiscriminatory but nonetheless limit the availability of housing for minority groups.

AGORA 9

Pa r t I : W hat i s the D i s pa r at e I m pac t Te s t a nd W hy D oe s i t M at t er ? Signed into law only a few days after the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr., Title VIII of the Civil Rights Act of 1968, also known as the Fair Housing Act (FHA), provided muchneeded updates to laws prohibiting housing discrimination.7 The text of the FHA begins boldly: “It is the policy of the United States to provide, within constitutional limitations, for fair housing throughout the United States.”8 It was an historic statement for a country that until then had largely sanctioned and even sponsored housing discrimination. Specifically, the FHA makes it unlawful to “make unavailable or deny, a dwelling to any person because of race, color, religion, sex, familial status, or national origin.”9 Additionally, section 3605(a) provides that it is unlawful “for any person or other entity whose business includes engaging in residential real estate-related transactions to discriminate against any person in making available such a transaction, or in the terms or conditions of such a transaction, because of race color, religion, sex, familial status, or national origin.”10 An early question for courts, however, was whether the language of the FHA permitted disparate impact claims.

Wh at i s t he disparat e -impact t e st?

Kabat

Disparate impact discrimination does not require intent to harm. It requires that a facially-neutral policy or practice create a situation where “minorities fare worse than similarly situated Whites.”11 For example, it includes a lender who refused to even consider applications for mortgages of less than $100,000 and thereby excluded a significant portion of the low-income minority market.12 To avoid liability under the

T ri m m i ng Back t he Fair Housing Act

FHA, the lender would need to show that the policy originates out of business necessity and that another policy that has a less discriminatory effect could not achieve the same goal.13 In the above example, the lender would likely be in violation of the Fair Housing Act, unless she could show that her business would lose money on any mortgage issued for less than $100,000.

Disparate-impact discrimination does not require intent to harm. It requires that a facially-neutral policy or practice create a situation where “minorities fare worse than similarly situated Whites.” While eleven circuit courts have endorsed the use of the disparate-impact test, they have disagreed over the legal standards to apply to the test.14 In 2013, a few days after the Supreme Court agreed to hear Magner v. Gallagher—the second of the three FHA disparate impact cases—HUD issued a rule that clarified the burden-shifting test, which the Fifth Circuit expressly adopted in Inclusive Communities.15 That test has three parts: (1) Plaintiff must prove a prima facie case of discrimination by showing that a challenged practice causes a discriminatory effect; (2) If the plaintiff makes a prima facie case, the defendant must then prove ‘that the challenged practice is necessary to achieve one or more substantial, legitimate, nondiscriminatory interests;’ (3) If the defendant meets its burden, the plaintiff must then show that the defendant’s interests ‘could be served by another practice that has a less discriminatory effect.’16

In a recent case, D.C. Circuit Judge Richard Leon suggested that HUD published this rule not only to provide clarity to federal courts applying the FHA,

Cory Heck “Arrival” Detroit,9Michigan AGORA

but also to prevent invalidation of the disparateimpact test.17 In essence, proponents of this theory argue that HUD created and published the rule with the hope that the Supreme Court would grant deference to it based on a decades-long string of cases concerning the level of deference afforded executive branch agencies.18 This theory seems far-fetched despite the suspicious timing. First, followers of HUD policy are quick to point out that HUD policy has been consistent for over twenty years of formal adjudications since the passage of amendments to the FHA in 1988 expanding HUD’s role in enforcing the FHA; thus, its position on disparate impact is already clear.19 But more importantly, as the Solicitor General argued in Inclusive Communities, no federal agency creates and publishes a rule in less than nine days.

A RG U I N G THE CASE FOR DISPARAT E I M PA C T Fair housing advocates argue that the disparateimpact test is necessary to counteract the long history of housing discrimination and to stop the status quo from self-perpetuating.20 This most certainly was the congressional purpose behind the FHA. Moreover, fair housing advocates are concerned about the invalidation of the disparate-impact test because the leftover source of legal liability under the FHA—intentional discrimination—is difficult to prove.21 Advocates also say that opponents of the test overinflate its usage and concentrate unfairly on the most unusual cases.22 Finally, they charge that the test maintains its relevancy and could even prevent housing discrimination stemming from the mass incarceration of minorities.

Kabat

Michael Allen, Jamie Crook, and John Relman— all long-time fair housing attorneys—argue in their paper Assessing HUD’s Disparate Impact Rule: A Practitioner’s Perspective that, even in the most atrocious cases, evidence of intentional

T ri m m i ng Back t he Fair Housing Act

discrimination is difficult to obtain and, consequently, the disparate-impact test serves an important role in fighting discriminatory housing practices.23 For instance, in the case Greater New Orleans Fair Housing Action Center v. Saint Bernard Parish,24 a suburb of New Orleans took repeated steps to limit the availability of rental and multifamily units that black families disproportionately occupied. In the first case, the Greater New Orleans Fair Housing Action Center (GNOFHAC) fought an ordinance that limited the rental of single-family homes to only blood relatives.25 After the GNOFHAC won that case, Saint Bernard Parish reacted by enacting an ordinance that banned multifamily housing.26 The ordinance clearly had a disproportionate impact on black families, but the GNHOFHAC had not yet uncovered smoking-gun evidence of

Fair housing advocates are concerned about the invalidation of the disparate-impact test because the leftover source of legal liability under the FHA— intentional discrimination—is difficult to prove. discriminatory intent. A disparate-impact analysis permitted the practitioners to make a strong case against the ordinance without any evidence of intent and eventually the court overturned both ordinances. The Parish remains under a consent decree issued by the court, which monitors its zoning and planning efforts.27 Allen, Crook, and Relman also argue that disparate-impact analysis complements an inquiry into disparate treatment. Specifically, in the case Baltimore v. Wells Fargo,28 their law firm used statistical analysis of racial disparities in foreclosure rates jointly with evidence of

intentional discrimination to win a multi-milliondollar settlement for the city, which required the issuance of at least $425 million in prime loans in the Baltimore area. The first complaint alleged reverse-redlining based on a statistical analysis, showing that Wells Fargo had disproportionately issued subprime loans in minority neighborhoods, and charged a higher cost to minority borrowers. Only later did evidence of intent surface.29 Thus, disparate-impact served ‘“as a means of smoking out subtle or underlying forms of intentional discrimination on the basis of group membership.’”30 Fair housing advocates also argue that the Supreme Court has agreed to hear fair housing cases that do not represent most disparate-impact cases.31 The cases that have reached the Supreme Court all involve local policies intended to improve housing quality and housing supply in lowincome areas. Scholars characterize such cases as housing improvement cases—cases that generally seek to avoid the disproportionate displacement of minorities from existing opportunities. For instance, the 2012 case Magner v. Gallagher involved claims against policies or regulations that displaced minorities at disproportionate rates while aiming to improve the quality of the housing stock in a blighted area; Inclusive Communities involves the construction of affordable housing in majority-minority neighborhoods under the Low Income Housing Tax Credit program.32 In contrast, most disparate-impact cases involve barriers to integration, such as a ban on multifamily housing or reverse redlining by mortgage brokers.33 Scholars emphasize the importance of drawing such distinctions because housing barrier challenges always further the nondiscrimination and integration purposes of the FHA, while housing improvement challenges can sometimes have the unintended effect of perpetuating segregated and substandard housing—a result contrary to the purpose of the FHA.34 Housing

barrier cases also represent most of the FHA disparate-impact claims heard on appeal and the majority of cases fair housing advocates have won.35 Legal scholars argue that the Court has cherry-picked cases that are not representative of disparate impact litigation as a whole.36

ARGUING THE CASE AGAINST DISPARATEIMPACT In contrast to fair housing advocates, business interests, some state housing agencies, and conservative legal scholars argue strongly against continued usage of the disparate impact test, even as they equally assert the importance of rooting out housing discrimination and unfair practices. The property insurance and mortgage industries have argued that the disparate impact rule as currently enforced by HUD “would require a disastrous departure from long-established risk-based underwriting practices.”37 Conservative legal scholars fear that the disparate-impact test will result in unfair implicit racial preferences.38 State agencies argue that disparate impact cases have proceeded without showing that a particular policy or procedure is the cause of the disparate impacts observed. They also argue that these cases prevent or slow down redevelopment efforts that would help low-income communities.39 In essence, both groups argue that HUD should limit the act to remedying unfair processes, but that, currently, it remedies unequal outcomes of otherwise fair and non-discriminatory processes.40 The property insurance industry takes particular issue with disparate impact and has been at the center of a number of lawsuits involving HUD’s new rule.41 Although no case involving disparate impact and property insurance has been fully litigated, insurers fear that the new HUD rule could result in a fundamental readjustment to risk-assessment and, paradoxically, in a rate structure that is unfairly discriminatory.42 Specifically,

AGORA 9

insurers fear that courts might invalidate location-based risk analysis in a poorly targeted attempt at equalizing insurance rates across communities. The fear seems grounded in the uncertainty of litigation. As scholars have even noted, the FHA disparate-impact test does permit businesses to identify a legitimate business purpose furthered by the discriminatory policies as long as no less-discriminatory alternatives exist. The Houston Housing Authority filed an amicus

State agencies argue that disparate impact cases have proceeded without showing that a particular policy or procedure is the cause of the disparate impacts observed. They also argue that these cases prevent or slow down redevelopment efforts that would help low-income communities.

Kabat

brief with the Supreme Court in the Inclusive Communities case, arguing essentially that the Texas Department of Housing and Community Affairs has denied approval to three-quarters of the housing authority’s development projects in the last two years due to fear of disparate-impact litigation.43 More specifically, the Houston Housing Authority relies on the Low Income Housing Tax Credit (LIHTC) program—a highly-competitive affordable housing development subsidy run by individual states—to fund its development projects. The new Texas underwriting standards imposed after the Fifth Circuit ruling in Inclusive Communities made it highly unlikely that it would receive funding because most of its projects are in minority communities. They argue further that the disparate-impact test as applied under Inclusive

T ri m m i ng Back t he Fair Housing Act

Communities does not take sufficient account of local conditions. As Houston is over two-thirds minority, nearly any LIHTC project will have a disproportionate effect on minorities. The Houston Housing Authority claims it must therefore develop small scale-projects in “high opportunity areas” where land prices are higher. As a result of the new preference for high opportunity areas, the housing authority argues that it cannot develop a sufficient supply of affordable, quality housing, as blighted areas deteriorate even further.44

Pa r t II: T he R o o t s o f t he L e ga l D is put e Eleven circuit courts have found that the Fair Housing Act prohibits practices or procedures that have a discriminatory effect (disparate impact), absent any evidence of intent.45 The circuit court justices who upheld the rule stated (and restated) that “[a]s overtly bigoted behavior has become more unfashionable, evidence of intent has become harder to find. But this does not mean that racial discrimination has disappeared.”46 This is a good policy argument for continued enforcement of the disparate-impact test, but is it a good legal argument for sustaining the disparate-impact test? Several members of the Supreme Court seem to think not. This section will provide an overview of the legal arguments for and against the disparateimpact test, specifically addressing the meaning of Smith v. City of Jackson, a case reigniting this debate,47 as well as competing interpretations of the statutory text and the appropriate weight due to HUD’s interpretation of the Fair Housing Act. Ultimately, I argue that the text of the FHA speaking to legal remedies is sufficiently ambiguous that HUD’s interpretation should be given deference.

S M I T H V. C I T Y O F JACKSON AND ITS D I SC O N T E N T S In 2005, the Supreme Court decided the case of Smith v. City of Jackson, which involved a disparate-impact claim brought by a cohort of older police officers against the City of Jackson, Mississippi under the Age Discrimination in Employment Act (ADEA), one part of the employment protections offered by Title VII of Civil Rights Act.48 The officers claimed the city gave younger officers disproportionately larger salary increases, which amounted to an unfair disparate impact on older officers.49 The lower court ruled in favor of the city and the Fifth Circuit affirmed, ruling that ADEA did not offer disparate-impact relief. The Supreme Court affirmed the decision of the lower court, but on different grounds: the Court argued that ADEA did entitle claimants to bring disparate-impact claims, but that the police officers did not meet the narrow requirements of a disparate-impact claim under ADEA.50 The ruling depended in part on a textual analysis of the similarity between the ADEA statutory text and the disparate-impact language contained in Title VII employment cases. This ruling re-ignited a debate over disparate impact in the fair housing context. Defendants and interested parties, like the property insurance industry, have since sought to draw distinctions between the language contained in the FHA and the language enabling disparate-impact claims in the ADEA. They argue that unlike the ADEA, the FHA does not permit disparate-impact claims. Since Smith, one circuit court has overruled the disparate-impact analysis. This occurred in November 2014, after the Supreme Court had already agreed to hear Inclusive Communities. That case, American Insurance Association v. HUD,51 may give insights into how the Supreme Court will adjudicate Inclusive Communities.

In particular, the majority opinion in American Insurance Association relied heavily on Smith in its invalidation of the disparate-impact test. In 2013, the American Insurance Association and other financial industry plaintiffs filed suit against HUD to invalidate HUD’s new regulation clarifying the rules of the disparate-impact test. The court began its analysis by reviewing whether HUD deserved deference as an agency interpreting an ambiguous statute. Judge Leon, author of the majority opinion, determined that the statute was unambiguous and, therefore, HUD’s interpretation did not deserve deference.52 From then on, the court limited itself to a statutory analysis of whether the Fair Housing Act permits disparateimpact claims. A statutory analysis involves a review of the text of the statute in addition to the legislative history (statements by relevant Congressmen, committee reports, a statement by the President), and finally a comparison of the statute to similar statutes. Judge Leon began the statutory analysis by insisting that the Supreme Court demands clear language in a statute expressing intent to permit disparate-impact litigation before it will approve such a test. Judge Leon turned to the text of section 3604(a-b) of the Fair Housing Act and concluded that it did not contain such clear language. The section states: (a) To refuse to sell or rent after the making of a bona fide offer, or to refuse to negotiate for the sale or rental of, or otherwise make unavailable or deny, a dwelling to any person because of race, color, religion, sex, familial status, or national origin. (b) To discriminate against any person in the terms, conditions, or privileges of sale or rental of a dwelling, or in the provision of services or facilities in connection therewith, because of race, color, religion, sex, familial status, or national origin.

Instead, Judge Leon concluded that the language was only intended to prohibit intentional discrimination due to his interpretation of the verbs “to refuse,” “make unavailable,” “deny,” and

AGORA 9

most importantly “to discriminate.”53 He argued that these words speak only to an action, but not its effect, and that when Congress intends to outlaw discriminatory effects, it uses language like “would deprive or tend to deprive” and “otherwise adversely affect.”54 He further concludes that the text of the FHA supposedly supporting disparateimpact analysis in fact parallels text in ADEA and Title VII that supports only disparate-treatment claims.55 His arguments are persuasive.

Kabat

However, a strong counterargument remains. The plaintiffs in Magner v. Gallagher56 begin their response to arguments like Judge Leon’s by noting that the Supreme Court “long ago explained that the FHA must be given a ‘generous construction’ in light of its ‘broad and inclusive’ language.”57 Then, the plaintiffs argued that disparate-impact test opponents have too narrowly interpreted Smith. Specifically, they noted that the Supreme Court did not rely wholly on a textual reading of the statute in ADEA. It was just one of many reasons that the Court upheld a disparate-impact test in that case; however, they noted that the text still supported use of the disparate-impact test. They argue that the disparate treatment sections of the ADEA and Title VII focus on treatment with regard to “the targeted individual,” while the FHA makes no such reference.58 Furthermore, they argued, the FHA uses the language “otherwise make unavailable or deny” which parallels the disparate-impact language in ADEA, “otherwise adversely affect his status as an employee.”59 And most importantly, they argue that “the Judge Leons” of the legal world have given too much importance to the words “adversely affect.” They argue that the words are intended to encapsulate the diverse array of property interests affected in the employment context by discrimination: “reduced wages or benefits, deprivation of training opportunities or seniority, or assignment to less attractive or more dangerous tasks.”60 The parallel catch-all phrase of the FHA is “otherwise make unavailable or deny.”

T ri m m i ng Back t he Fair Housing Act

This is an equally strong textual analysis; in fact, it seems that neither side has established a clear textual analysis.

THE DEF ERENCE DUE to HUD’S ANALYSIS Decades of Supreme Court jurisprudence have established that the Supreme Court assigns great deference to administrative agencies’ interpretation of their enabling statutes. The theory goes as follows: as a matter of the separation of powers, it is the executive branch’s role to administer the law, including all executive agencies like HUD. If the people do not like the way that the executive is administering the law, they may seek new legislation through Congress or elect a new president. However, the judiciary has generally stayed away from such cases except in extreme circumstances when an agency has abdicated its duties or exceeded the bounds of the statute. A two-part test has emerged as part of the jurisprudence supporting this theory. If the two parts are satisfied in favor of an agency, it receives deference. Since HUD passes the two-part test, the Supreme Court should defer to its interpretation of the Fair Housing Act. Step one of the analysis is to ask whether the statute is ambiguous on the legal issue. As previously examined, the answer is yes. The statute neither clearly permits disparateimpact claims nor expressly prohibits them. The first step is satisfied. The second step asks whether the agency has abused its discretion in interpreting the statute, or, in other words, if its interpretation is reasonable. Given the clear legislative intent expressed in the FHA, I argue that HUD has not abused its discretion. But others disagree, including the D.C. Circuit and much of the financial sector supporting the State of Texas in Inclusive Communities.61 This will be a major issue for the Supreme Court, whatever its decision may be.

Pier Amelia Davis “Public Space” San Francisco, AGORA 9California

C o n c l u s i on Because of ideological differences in how the government should balance business interests and the interests of minorities, the question of whether the Supreme Court will invalidate the disparate-impact test is not easy to answer. It is clear that four justices will support it and four will oppose it; this will not be a unanimous opinion. Reports from oral argument suggest that the vote hangs on Justice Scalia—a surprise swing vote given his general antipathy to civil rights laws

that might require a race-based policy decision from government.62 No one could guess which way he might vote. But regardless of the outcome, the US remains a deeply segregated society—with or without the disparate-impact test. The Fair Housing Act already has failed to address decades of racist housing policies and practices among all levels of government, and across competing business sectors. It is hard to imagine achieving integration with an even weaker version of the Fair Housing Act.63

R ef er e n c e s 1. See “Time Runs Out for St. Bernard Parish,” New York Times, A26 (March 30, 2011).

14. See Inclusive Communities Project v. Texas Department of Housing and Community Affairs, 747 F.3d 275, 281 (2014).

2. Id.

15. See 24 C.F.R. § 100.500.

3. 517 F.2d 409 (1975).

16. Inclusive Communities, 747 F.3d at 281, quoting 24 C.F.R. § 100.500.

4. See Twp. of Mount Holly, N.J. v. Mt. Holly Gardens Citizens in Action, Inc., 133 S. Ct. 2824 (2013); Magner v. Gallagher, 132 S. Ct. 548 (2011). 5. 747 F.3d 275 (2014). 6. See e.g., Jamelle Bouie, The Next Assault on Civil Rights, SLATE (Oct. 9, 2014), http://www.slate.com/articles/news_and_politics/ politics/2014/10/the_supreme_court_s_next_attack_on_civil_ rights_the_justices_will_likely.html; Sam Hananel, Supreme Court to Hear Another Case on Housing Bias, ASSOCIATED PRESS (Oct. 2, 2014), available at http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/10/02/ supreme-court-housing-bias_n_5920484.html; Nicole Flatow, The Supreme Court Is Poised To Cripple The Federal Ban On Housing Discrimination, THINK PROGRESS (Oct. 2, 2014), http:// thinkprogress.org/justice/2014/10/02/3575079/the-supreme-courtwill-hear-a-case-that-could-obliterate-fair-housing-law/. 7. ALEX F. SCHWARTZ, Housing Policy in the United States 358-61 (3d ed. 2015).

Kabat

17. See e.g., Am. Insurance Assoc. v. United States Dep’t of Hous. & Urban Develop., __ F. Supp. 3d ___, 2014 WL 5802283 at *2 (Nov. 7, 2014); SCHWARTZ, supra n.7 at 373, n.1. 18. Am. Insurance Assoc., 2014 WL 5802283 at *2. 19. Michael G. Allen, Jamie L. Crook, & John P. Relman, “Assessing HUD’s Disparate Impact Rule: A Practitioner’s Perspective,” 49 HARV. C.R.-C.L. L. REV. 155, 157 (2014).

20. See, e.g., Bouie, supra n. 6; Stacy E. Seicshnaydre, Is Disparate Impact Having Any Impact? An Appellate Analysis of Forty Years of Disparate Impact Claims under the Fair Housing Act, 63 AM. U. L. REV. 357-435 (2013). 21. Proving a violation of the Equal Protection Clause also requires evidence of intentional discrimination. 22. See Stacy Seicshnaydre, “Will Disparate Impact Survive,” CONSTITUTION DAILY (Nov. 21, 2013).

8. 42 U.S.C. § 3601 (2014). 9. 42 U.S.C. § 3604(a).

23. Assessing HUD’s Disparate Impact Rule, supra n.

10. 42 U.S.C. § 3605(a).

24. 641 F. Supp. 2d 563 (E.D. La 2009).

11. SCHWARTZ, supra n.7 at 331.

25. Allen, Crook, & Relman, supra n. 19, at 165.

12. Id.

26. Id.

13. Id.

27. Id.

T ri m m i ng Back t he Fair Housing Act

28. For details on the case, see Id. at 161-64. 29. Id. at 163 (describing employee testimony describing discriminatory practices at the bank, including describing suprime loans as “ghetto loans” and describing subprime loans as “too good for white people.”) 30. Id. at 163 quoting Christine Jolls, Antidiscrimination and Accommodation, 115 HARV. L. REV. 642, 652 (2001). 31. See, e.g., Seicshnaydre, supra n. 20 at 362.. 32. See, e.g., Magner v. Gallagher, 132 S. Ct. 548 (2011).

1988); Huntington Branch, NAACP v. Town of Huntington, 844 F.2d 926, 935-36 (2d Cir. 1988), aff’d in part, 488 U.S. 15 (1988); Hanson v. Veterans Admin., 800 F.2d 1381, 1386 (5th Cir. 1986); Arthur v. City of Toledo, 782 F.2d 565, 574-75 (6th Cir. 1986); United States v. Marengo Cnty. Comm’n, 731 F.2d 1546, 1559 n.20 (11th Cir. 1984); Smith v. Town of Clarkton, 682 F.2d 1055, 1065 (4th Cir. 1982); Resident Advisory Bd. v. Rizzo, 564 F.2d 126, 146 (3d Cir. 1977), cert. denied, 435 U.S. 908 (1978); Metro. Hous. Dev. Corp. v. Vill. of Arlington Heights (Arlington Heights II), 558 F.2d 1283, 1289-90 (7th Cir. 1977), cert. denied, 434 U.S. 1025 (1978); United States v. City of Black Jack, 508 F.2d 1179, 1184-85 (8th Cir. 1974), cert. denied, 422 U.S. 1042 (1975). 46. Metro. Hous. Develop. Corp. v. Village of Arlington Heights, 558 F.2d 1283, 1289-90 (7th Cir. 1977).

33. Seicshnaydre, supra n.20 at 361. 47. 544 U.S. 228 (2005). 34. Id. at 361. 48. Id. 35. Id. at 358. 49. Id. 36. Seicshnaydre in CONSTITUTION DAILY, supra n.22. 50. Id. 37. Am. Insurance Assoc. v. United States Dep’t of Hous. & Urban Develop., __ F. Supp. 3d ___, 2014 WL 5802283 at *3, n.6 (Nov. 7, 2014). See also Michael J. Miller, “Disparate Impact and Unfairly Discriminatory Insurance Rates,” Casualty Actuarial Society E-Forum 276 (Winter 2009).

51. __ F. supp. 3d ___, 2014 WL 5802283 (Nov. 7, 2014). 52. Id. at *7. 53. Id. at *7-9.

38. Michael Selmi, Was the Disparate Impact Theory a Mistake?, 53 UCLA L. Rev. 701, 703 n.8 (2006) (discussing criticism that disparate impact leads to quotas).

54. Id. 55. Id.

39. See, e.g., Amici Curiae Brief of Houston Hous. Auth. in support of the petitioners in Inclusive Communities Project v. Texas Dep’t of Hous. & Comm. Affairs on writ of certiorari to the Supreme Court. See also Inclusive Communities Project, 747 F.3d 275, 283 (2014) (J. Jones concurring). 40. See Amici Curiae Brief of the Am. Fin. Serv. Assoc., the Consumer Mortg. Coalition, the Ind. Comm. Bankers of Am., and the Mortg. Bankers Assoc. in support of Plaintiff’s Motion for Summary Judgment in the case of Prop. Casualty Ins. of Am. v. Donovan, No. 13-cv-08564 (June 30, 2014).

56. No. 10-1032, 2011 WL 2441685 (S. Ct. 2011). 57. Brief in Opposition to the Petition for Writ of Certiorari, Magner v. Gallagher, No. 10-1032 (U.S. June 15, 2011) quoting Trafficante v. Metro. Life Ins. Co., 409 U.S. 205, 209, 212 (1972). 58. Id. at *14. 59. Id. 60. Id.

41. See, e.g., Am. Insurance Assoc. v. United States Dep’t of Hous. & Urban Develop., __ F. supp. 3d ___, 2014 WL 5802283 (Nov. 7, 2014); Property Casualty Insurers Association of America v. Donovan, __ F.Supp.2d __ , 2014 WL 4377570 (2014) (concerning the poor response by HUD to issues raised by insurance company during comment rulemaking period). 42. Miller, supra n. 37 at 287. 43. Amici Curiae Brief of Hous. Hous. Auth. in support of the petitioners in the SUPREME COURT OF THE UNITED STATES, no. 13-1371 (2014). 44. Id. at 11. 45. See Langlois v. Abington Hous. Auth., 207 F.3d 43, 49 (1st Cir. 2000); Mountain Side Mobile Estates P’ship v. Sec’y of HUD, 56 F.3d 1243, 1251 (10th Cir. 1995); Keith v. Volpe, 858 F.2d 467, 482-83 (9th Cir.

61. See American Insurance Assoc. v. HUD, __ F. supp. 3d ___, 2014 WL 5802283 (Nov. 7, 2014). 62. Lyle Denniston, Argument analysis: Scalia versus Scalia on housing law?, SCOTUSblog (Jan. 21, 2015, 1:40 PM), http://www. scotusblog.com/2015/01/argument-analysis-scalia-versus-scaliaon-housing-law/ 63. Advocates are advised to pursue HUD enforcement of the affirmatively furthering fair housing contract clause attached to every Community Development Block Grant, and also to seek heavy enforcement of the Equal Credit Opportunity Act against unfair lenders. Advocates may also seek change at the state level, demanding that state legislators enforce “fair share requirements” on all municipalities.

AGORA 9

Chris Herlich “Fareless” Bangalore, India AGORA 9

maxE Examining the A soL Los Angeles Metro AB-SDEEN A A NEEDS-BASED TRANSPORTATION SISYLANA ANALYSIS o m o r k n a r F Frank romo a l P n a b r U f o r e t s a M Master of Urban Planning, 2016

The planned expansion of the Los Angeles Metro Rail promises to provide Angelinos with access to public transportation. However, some critics of the L.A. Metro Rail believe that the expanding network will primarily serve tourist destinations and powerful economic hubs rather than supporting the residents most in need of public transportation. Through spatial analysis, we find that the L.A. Metro Rail expansion will not benefit the residents most in need of public transportation.

s pat i a l analysis

n the early 1900s Los Angeles County contained one of the largest public transportation systems in the United States. The Pacific Electric Red Car system serviced multiple counties in Southern California with over 1,000 miles of streetcar lines. However, with the introduction of the automobile, most of the rail network fell into disrepair and was subsequently dismantled in the 1950s. Over the next few decades, the automobile became the primary mode of transportation and its infrastructure transformed Los Angeles from an interconnected region into a sprawling metropolis dominated by the personal vehicle. As a result, Los Angeles has become a classic example of how planning for personal vehicles can have negative impacts on cities and their inhabitants. Examining L.A.â&#x20AC;&#x2122;s transportation history helps highlight some of the serious transportation issues that many of the cityâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s lower-income and minority residents still deal with today. The sprawling nature of the city leaves many residents, especially those without access to a personal vehicle, geographically isolated. Although hundreds of buses service L.A. County, public transportation has historically underserved certain groups (Borah, 2008). Furthermore, the available transit options are often unreliable and inefficient due to congestion on major roads and highways. In fact, L.A. residents spend more time in traffic than residents of any other metropolitan city in the United States (Frizell, 2014). Statistics like these strongly suggest a need for infrastructure improvements that can help residents reach their destinations more efficiently. The Los Angeles Metro Rail has sought to address the need for more efficient public transportation for over 20 years. It opened its first light rail line in 1990 as part of a master plan intended to introduce light rail as an alternative form of regional transportation. Since then, the system has expanded dramatically and now consists of five

separate rail lines and 73 miles of track (LA Metro 2008). The continuing expansion of the L.A. Metro Rail presents a great opportunity for residents who rely on public transportation.

Map 1 Frank Romo and John Woodward. Existing rail lines and existing stops in the Los Angeles Metro rail system, 2013

This research focuses on two rail lines that are currently under construction, the Expo Line extension to Santa Monica and the Crenshaw Corridor to Los Angeles International Airport, in order to determine whether or not those most dependent on public transportation will have greater access to transit options with the line extensions.

T r a ns po r tat io n Ne e d s Ind e x a nd A s s e s s me nt We created a transportation needs index to identify the neighborhoods most in need of greater access

AGORA 9

indicating minimal need for public transportation and 5 indicating maximum need for public transportation. We then reclassified the resulting scores at the census tract level to assess which neighborhoods in L.A. County demonstrated the greatest need for access to public transportation.

L imitations One limitation of this model is that it does not take into account other forms of public transportation. The transportation needs index focuses only on available census variables and does not include proximity to other forms of public transportation such as bus routes or commuter rail. This analysis focuses solely on the expanding light rail lines and therefore assumes that light rail is the only available mode.

Public Transportation Need Index Scores 1.6 - 1.9 2.0 - 2.5 2.6 - 3.4

Site Sel ection

3.5 - 4.0 0

2 miles

Map 2 Frank Romo and John Woodward. The Expo Line extension area, Crenshaw and South L.A. study areas.

to public transportation. We used four separate variables from the 2010 American Community Survey to establish the baseline criteria for the transportation needs index: access to a personal vehicle, access to public transportation to work, household income, and population density. This combination of variables creates the formula used to assess an area’s need for transportation. We weighted each variable based on its relevance

romo

in determining a community’s need for public transportation. For instance, we weighted the variable “households without access to a personal vehicle” the heaviest because people without access to a personal vehicle are more dependent on public transportation. The transportation needs index produced a range of scores from 1 to 5, with 1

e x a m i n i ng t he los ange le s me t ro

After creating the transportation needs index, we used the resulting scores to identify neighborhoods that demonstrated a maximum need for public transportation. South L.A. was selected as the primary study area because 26 out of the 30 census tracts in this area demonstrated a maximum need for public transportation. This neighborhood scored significantly higher than many other census tracts in L.A. County, most likely because of the lack of access to personal vehicles and the large amount of public transit ridership. Although rail lines surround the South L.A. census tracts on either side, the tracts remain outside of a reasonable walking distance from any single station. Residents in the middle of the study area demonstrated the least amount of access to public transportation because of their distance from the surrounding three Metro Rail lines. They also possessed the highest need scores in all of L.A. County. This cluster proved to be the most relevant because nowhere else in L.A. County was there such a high concentration of residents with such minimal access to light rail transportation.

Percentage (%) of Household Income Compared to County Average

Population Density per Square Mile 0 - 8,000

31 - 40

8,001 - 13,500

41 - 75

13,501 - 18,500

76 - 90

18,501 - 24,000

91 - 100

24,001 - 38,300

101 - 254

Percentage (%) of Households That Use Public Transit

Population Density per Square Mile 0 - 8,000

0-3 4 -6

8,001 - 13,500

7-8

13,501 - 18,500

9 - 10

18,501 - 24,000

11 - 14

24,001 - 38,300

2 miles

Maps 3-6 Frank Romo and John Woodward. Neighborhood characteristics of each study area. Source: ACS (2010)

We then compared the South L.A. study area to two separate neighborhoods on the Westside that the future rail line expansion will service within the next five years. The purpose of this comparison was to provide greater context for the severity of the lack of transit availability in South L.A.

Co mpa r a bl e S t udy A r e a s a nd Pr e l imina ry F ind ing s 35

We compared the areas surrounding the two new rail lines to the South L.A. study area based on their scores in the transportation needs index. The Expo Line extension, slated to open in 2015, will service residents from Culver City to Santa Monica. The

AGORA 9

new Crenshaw Corridor line, expected to open in 2019, will service Inglewood residents and will terminate at the Los Angeles International Airport. According to the transportation needs index, the Expo Line extension does not service any census tracts indicating maximum need. In fact, the Expo Line extension primarily serves higherincome residents who have greater access to personal vehicles and are less dependent on public transportation. Similarly, the Crenshaw Corridor line will service neighborhoods with a lower need for access to public transportation based on its population density and access to personal vehicles. Although the Crenshaw Corridor line runs adjacent to the South L.A. study area, it fails to incorporate any of the census tracts most in need of public transportation in South L.A. In fact, out of a total of 14 new stations from both rail lines, only two, which are along the Crenshaw Corridor line, will service census tracts that indicate maximum

need. Comparing the demographic information of the three study areas reveals that residents in the South L.A. study area are less affluent, on average earning only about half of the L.A. County median household income. Conversely, a majority of the residents in the Expo Line study area report a median household income significantly higher than the Los Angeles County average. The Crenshaw Corridor area services some communities in high need of public transportation, but mostly services areas only in moderate need of public transportation as compared to South L.A.

Co ncl us io ns Los Angeles Metro Rail does not effectively connect the residents most in need of public transportation to the greater transit network. Although residents in South L.A. indicate a maximum need for public transportation, they remain outside of a reasonable walking distance from any single station. This

Racial Makeup Latino African American

South LA

Expo Line

Average Household Income

$28,581

$67,601

$44,885

Average Need Score

3.56

2.79

2.98

White

Crenshaw

Asian Other

Figure 1 Demographic information of the three study areas. ACS (2010)

romo

e x a m i n i ng t he los ange le s me t ro

Public Transportation Needs Index 1.4 - 1.9

Low

2.0 - 2.5 2.6 - 3.5 3.6 - 4.6 0

High 5 miles

10 Miles Map 7

Frank Romo and John Woodward. Final decision map showing overall indexed need for public transportation for each census tract in Los Angeles County. Source: ACS (2010)

AGORA 9

reveals that the L.A. Metro Rail will remain inaccessible to the entire South L.A. neighborhood. Although residents of South L.A. would benefit the most from additional public transportation options, they will remain dependent upon the bus system and will have minimal access to the expanding rail system.

P l a n n i ng Imp licat ions Deeper examination of the results of the transportation needs index for all three study areas indicates that lower-income communities of color will remain underserved by public transportation despite the massive expansion of the Los Angeles Metro Rail. If the city and county expect L.A.

residents to use public transportation, residents who are most dependent on public transportation should take priority over communities that have access to alternate forms of transportation. Planners must reevaluate their priorities to create more equitable transportation systems by focusing on the communities that are most in need of public transportation investment.

Research performed with John Woodward, Master of Science in Urban Planning, Graduate School of Planning and Preservation, Columbia University.

R ef er e n c e s Borah, J. Gauer, G and Messier, J. (2008). Who Watched Roger Rabbit? The Los Angeles Metro and the Bus Riders Union. Frizell, S. (2014, June 4). L.A. drivers spend 90 hours a year stuck in traffic, study finds. Time Magazine. Retrieved from http://time. com/2821738/los-angeles-traffic-study/ Metro Rail. Metro Rail Operations. Retrieved from http://www.metro. net/about/rail-operations/ United States Census Bureau, American FactFinder. (2010). Los Angeles County, CA, Means of Transportation to Work by Vehicles Available (B08141). 2010 American Community Survey.

romo

e x a m i n i ng t he los ange le s me t ro

United States Census Bureau, American FactFinder. (2010). Los Angeles County, CA, Means of Transportation to Work, Workers 16 years and over (B08301). 2010 American Community Survey. United States Census Bureau, American FactFinder. (2010). Los Angeles County, CA, Total Population (B01003). 2010 American Community Survey. United States Census Bureau, American FactFinder. (2010). Los Angeles County, CA, Median Household Income in the past 12 Months (B19013). 2010 American Community Survey. United States Census Bureau, American FactFinder. (2010). Los Angeles County, CA, Hispanic or Latino Origin by Race (B03002). 2010 American Community Survey.

Chris Herlich “Thoughtful Ride” Chicago, AGORA 9 Illinois

Kathleen Reilly “Route 1” SantaAGORA Monica,9California

nimE Eminent Domain OT LOOT A A TOOL TO PROTECT ENWOEMOH HOMEOWNERS AND CITIES n a m r o n e k u l luke norman a l P n a b r U f o r e t s a M Master of Urban Planning, 2015

For decades, local governments have used the power of eminent domain to evict low-income residents across the United States. Reversing this trend of governmentsanctioned displacement, the City of Richmond, California has developed an innovative use of eminent domain to keep residents in their homes and prevent foreclosure. By using the power of eminent domain to purchase underwater mortgages developed during the housing bubble at today’s market value, Richmond could save residents thousands of dollars and allow them to stay in their homes. This approach has met with strong resistance from Wall Street, where these mortgages have become profitable investment vehicles. Richmond’s success will be based on the City’s ability to develop new partnerships with activists and investors outside the municipal boundaries.

merican cities and millions of Americans continue to face challenges caused by the Great Recession. Foreclosures evict families from their homes, inflict blight on neighborhoods, and cut city revenues that provide basic services. To stem this tide, the City of Richmond, California is attempting to use eminent domain to purchase underwater mortgages, refinance the houses at current values, and keep the city’s residents in their homes. However, Richmond has faced strong resistance from Wall Street, which has converted those mortgages into profit-generating investment vehicles. If Richmond and other cities working for their residents are to succeed in the future, they must develop new partnerships outside of their city limits.

th e pr o b l e m : U n d e rwat e r M ort gage s, Fore closure s, a n d A m e ri c a n Cit ie s Seven years after the beginning of the Great Recession, American cities continue to deal with its aftermath. One of the most significant challenges for cities and homeowners has been the loss of housing values. Almost a quarter of all homes with a mortgage, nearly eleven million, are “underwater – meaning that the balance on the mortgage exceeds the current value of the home” (Hockett, 2013, p. 1). Foreclosures have increased as homeowners continue to make payments on peak housing prices while facing unemployment and wage cuts. Across the country, three million homeowners are in the foreclosure process, with an additional 7.5 million expected to enter foreclosure in the near future (Hockett, 2013). While the problems of underwater mortgages and foreclosures are national in scope, they have been concentrated in a few municipalities, “most notably [in] California, which in 2011 boasted ten of the nation’s top twenty municipal foreclosure

rates” (Friend, 2013, p. 26). For example in San Bernardino County, near Los Angeles, housing prices fell by half from their high in 2006, leaving over fifty percent of the mortgages underwater (Friend, 2013). In Richmond, California, the focus of the case study, housing values decreased by over sixty percent, leaving nearly a third of the mortgages underwater. This caused 16 percent of homeowners to lose their homes through foreclosure (Dewan, 2014). Unsurprisingly, the scale of the loss of housing values and foreclosures has had a significant impact on municipalities and their residents. As housing values dropped and foreclosures rose, local property tax revenues have fallen (Hockett, 2013). This has led municipalities to cut services, consolidate school districts, and, in some cases, file for bankruptcy, as San Bernardino County did in August of 2012 (Friend, 2013; Hockett, 2013). Residents who have been able to keep their homes face abandoned neighborhoods, decreased housing values caused by blight, and increased crime (Hockett, 2013), (Friend, 2013). The logical response to underwater mortgages for cities, homeowners, and the banks that provided the loans is the reduction of principal. Reducing the principal of the mortgage has been more effective in preventing defaults than extending the mortgage’s term or reducing the interest rate (Friend, 2013). Since banks are aware of the high rates of foreclosure associated with underwater mortgages, “they find it financially rational to write down these loans” to prevent homeowners from foreclosing (Hockett, 2013, p. 3). However, nearly ten percent of the mortgage market – $1 trillion – takes the form of privatelabel securitization (PLS) mortgages, which are structured to make principal reduction difficult (Friend, 2013; Hockett, 2013). After the banks loaned to homeowners, the PLS mortgages

AGORA 9

P re -Re c e s s ion

Post-Recession

In ter ven tion

Figure 1 2006 - Peak housing prices: $300,000 market value, $300,000 mortgage.

2013 - Underwater with high risk of default: $190,000 market value, $300,0000 mortgage.

2013 - Eminent domain to refinance mortgage: $190,000 market value, $190,000 mortgage.

were “split into countless pieces and made into bonds,” which become investment vehicles on Wall Street (Friend, 2013, p. 27). Any reduction of principal requires agreement by a supermajority of investors, who have no way of communicating with each other (Hockett, 2013; Friend, 2013). Additionally, the banks who manage the mortgages for the investors are prohibited from reducing the mortgage’s principal independently (Hockett, 2013). This presents a huge problem for municipalities, since PLS mortgages “are about three times as likely as other kinds to default” (Friend, 2013, p. 27).

E m i n e n t Domain

To limit the municipality’s expenses, it could use federal or private funds to purchase the underwater mortgages (Hockett, 2013). In the case of Richmond, Mortgage Resolution Partners (MRP) gathered $400 million from private investors to purchase the underwater mortgages (Friend, 2013). Investors purchased mortgages at 80 percent of the current market value and refinanced them at 100 percent of the home’s fair market value – gaining a 20 percent profit (Friend, 2013).

Fortunately, cities faced with toxic PLS mortgages and foreclosures have a solution – “take definitive ownership” of the mortgages through the power of eminent domain (Friend, 2013, p. 27). Municipalities and counties can use eminent domain to purchase “the underwater mortgages at below the home’s market value and to refinance them at lower rates” (The Economist, 2014). By reducing the principal of the loan from the prerecession peak price to the current market value, cities can significantly reduce owners’ monthly mortgage payments. For example, by reducing the mortgage of a house that sold in 2006 for $300,000 to its current value of $190,000, a homeowner could

Continuing the preceding example, the municipality would purchase the mortgage for a house with a peak value of $300,000 and a current value of $190,000 for 80 percent of its current value, at a price of $152,000, and then refinance at its current value, resulting in a 20 percent profit, or $38,000. One-third of the profits would go to the city, one-third to investors, and the remainder would cover MRP’s fees and closing costs (Friend, 2013). Current investors in PLS mortgages would be invited to participate in the purchase of underwater mortgages to help them “recoup presently lost value” by the threat of foreclosure (Hockett, 2013).

t h e i n t e rve n ti on:

Norman

save $700 a month or $8,400 a year, significant savings for a homeowner (Friend, 2013). The investors who purchased the PLS mortgages would receive 80 percent of the fair market value, a higher return than default and foreclosure would bring (Friend, 2013).

E m i n e nt domain

Hi st o ry a n d P r e c e d e nc e Academics, politicians, and investors have proposed the use of eminent domain to purchase underwater mortgages. Robert Hockett of Cornell Law School argued in the Federal Reserve Bank of New York’s Current Issues in Economics and

Finance that condemning purchases using eminent domain is both legally and financially prudent (Hockett, 2013; The Economist, 2014). In 2008, Republican presidential candidate John McCain argued for using “$300 billion in federal bailout money to buy troubled mortgages and write them down” (Dewan, 2014). Futhermore, the founders of Mortgage Resolution Partners had extensive history on Wall Street working for Credit Suisse and Zurich Financial services before deciding “to use their financial fluency to restore millions of people’s balance sheets” (Friend, 2013, p. 29). Legally, there is a long history of using eminent domain to purchase forms of intangible property, such as “bond tax exemption covenants, insurance policies, corporate equities, other contract rights” (Hockett, 2013, p. 4). Additionally, the use of eminent domain has always been tied to “preventing more foreclosures, blighted properties, revenue base losses, and city service cutbacks,” which purchasing underwater mortgages aims to achieve (Hockett, 2013, p. 6). In the broader American legal context, bankruptcy facilitates debt reduction, which allows entrepreneurs to launch businesses and firms to recover lost value (Hockett, 2013).

Key Ac t i o n s a nd C ha l l e n g e s i n Ric h m o n d, C a l i f orni a In 2013, the working-class, predominantly Hispanic and African-American City of Richmond continued to feel the effects of the recession with almost a third of its mortgages underwater

(Dewan, 2014). Faced with this continuing crisis, Mayor Gayle McLaughlin and her progressive city council, who had already decriminalized homelessness and supported the rights of illegal immigrants, began discussions with Mortgage Resolution Partners to use their funds to purchase the underwater mortgages and help keep residents in their homes (Dewan, 2014). As a result, in July of 2013 Richmond offered 80 percent of current market value to the investors in 624 private-label security mortgages before beginning the process of purchasing the mortgages through eminent domain (Dewan, 2014; The Economist, 2014).

Nearly ten percent of the mortgage market is private-label securitization mortgages, which are structured to make principal reduction difficult and are three times more likely to default. With incredible speed, national opposition to the purchase of 624 mortgages developed. In August of 2013, large asset-management firms, including BlackRock and PIMCO (which managed investment in bonds containing private-label security mortgages) and their trustees, Wells Fargo and Deutsche Bank sued to prevent the use of eminent domain (Dewan, 2014). Homeowners with underwater mortgages are at risk of defaulting, but as long as owners continue to make high payments based on peak housing prices, they help keep the bonds formed from slivers of PLS mortgages afloat (Friend, 2013). In the case of Richmond, the asset-management firms argued that more than half of the 624 homeowners were current on their mortgage payments (Dewan, 2014). If the city went ahead and purchased those loans at 80 percent of current market value, not only would the investors lose money, but they would also lose future payments that would support the bonds. If Richmond’s use of eminent domain were to set a national precedent, Wall Street feared that

AGORA 9

Norman m i n e nt domainin Patienceâ&#x20AC;? Detroit, Michigan Cory HeckEâ&#x20AC;&#x153;Innovation

investors would no longer trust bonds containing PLS mortgages (Friend, 2013), reducing the bonds’ values and depriving asset-management firms of a profitable vehicle to offer their investors. However, since the city had not yet used eminent domain to purchase the houses, the federal court rejected the investors’ suit as premature (The Economist, 2013). Beyond litigation, opponents moved to block the city’s access to private and federal money. The Securities Industry and Financial Market Association (SIMFA), which promotes investment in bonds containing PLS mortgages, complained to the city’s bond underwriter that an upcoming plan to refinance municipal bonds “did not adequately disclose the risks of the mortgage plan” (Dewan, 2014). The city’s subsequent attempt to refinance its municipal bonds in August, 2013 received no buyers, despite the bonds’ high rating (Dewan, 2014). Discouraging buyers from purchasing municipal bonds could limit Richmond’s ability to fund public projects in the future. Additionally, SIMFA is working to persuade Congress to prevent federal guarantees for any new mortgages made in a municipality that has authorized the use of eminent domain to purchase underwater mortgages (Dewan, 2014). This could significantly decrease the value of Richmond’s homes, as banks avoid making loans not backed by the federal government to prospective buyers. In the face of this strong resistance, which had stymied a similar effort in San Bernardino, Richmond officials partnered with Alliance of Californians for Community Empowerment (ACCE) to engage residents and build public support (Dewan, 2014). The city of Richmond and ACCE also reached out to unions, including the Service Employees International Union, which saw many of their members trapped in underwater mortgages (Dewan, 2014). This coalition-building and grassroots campaign helped motivate over 100 residents to speak out at a September city council

meeting, where the city held the first of many votes needed to approve the use of eminent domain, which passed with four of the seven council members’ votes (Dewan, 2014). However, since California law requires a super-majority to pursue eminent domain, Richmond is considering partnering with a Mor tgag e Res olution Par tner s provide $4 0 0 m from pr ivate in ves tor s for city to purch as e mor tg ag es

Mayor + City Council propos e us ing eminen t domain to as s is t homeow ner s facing foreclos ure

T he Alliance of Califor n ian s for Commun ity E mpow er men t launches gr as s roots campaig n City of Rich mond us es eminen t domain to purch as e mor tgages

Figure 2 The City of Richmond used eminent domain to purchase mortgages and refinance at current market values. Refinanced mortgages significantly reduce payments, helping more than 600 homeowners avoid foreclosure.

neighboring city to form a joint powers authority with eminent domain powers that could be formed with a simple majority (The Economist, 2014; EfficientGov, 2014). If successful, Richmond’s use of eminent domain to protect homeowners may inspire cities across California and across the country to follow suit (The Economist, 2014).

Impl icat io ns a nd A na lys is The conflict surrounding Richmond’s use of eminent domain can be understood as a clash between the use and exchange value derived from property. Real estate can provide both values at the same time, often to two different groups. For example, renters derive use value from living in an apartment, while the owner derives exchange value from the rent

AGORA 9

that the apartment earns (Logan & Harvey, 1987). In the case of Richmond, homeowners derive use value from living in their homes, in intact neighborhoods and with access to good schools and work. By contrast, banks, investors, and asset-management firms derive exchange value from the monthly payments those homeowners make on their mortgages. As the struggle over the mortgages in Richmond has illustrated, “the simultaneous push for both [exchange and use values] is inherently contradictory and a continuing source of tension, conflict, and irrational settlement” (Logan & Harvey, 1987, p. 2). Previously, that conflict played out in a limited geographic area, as residents deriving use value and entrepreneurs or investors deriving exchange value lived in the same neighborhood, city, or region. However, in Richmond, homeowners still derive use value from living in a specific location, while investors in PLS mortgages live all across the country and even across the world. This means, first, that investors are less concerned with the fortunes of a local community than property owners were in the past. Second, since investors collectively do not live in a specific location inside municipal boundaries, it is more difficult for a city to compel them to protect the use value of homes than in the past. Instead, investors can compel cities to action (or inaction) by controlling their access to capital, as demonstrated by the investors’ successful effort to thwart Richmond from refinancing their municipal bonds. This means that for cities to serve their citizens, they will need to develop new partnerships outside city limits. One of these partnerships will be,

Other partners include groups like Alliance of Californians for Community Empowerment (ACCE), which can work across city and state boundaries to promote use value in specific communities. By providing cities like Richmond support and knowledge, ACCE’s members can help empower residents to speak out and support local officials in the face of national opposition. Their connections across city and state lines can help spread the work of Richmond to other communities that are working to help residents. This means that even if the use of eminent domain is defeated in Richmond, it could emerge stronger and wiser in another community, which will finally succeed in protecting the use value of residents and keeping homeowners in their homes.

R ef er e n c e s

Dewan, Shaila. (2014, January 11). Eminent domain: A long shot against blight. The New York Times. Retrieved from http://www. nytimes.com/2014/01/12/business/in-richmond-california-a-longshot-against-blight.html?_r=0. Eminent domain as a tool for underwater Mortgages. (2014, February 5). EfficientGov. Retrieved from http://efficientgov.com/ blog/2014/02/05/eminent-domain-tool-underwater-mortgages. Friend, Tad. (2013, February 4). Home economics. The New Yorker, 26-31.

Norman

paradoxically, with these same investors. While it is easy to criticize those who pursue exchange value, the American legal structure protects and promotes that pursuit. So the effort of Mortgage Resolution Partners to gather private funds to buy mortgages gives Richmond the opportunity to present the use of eminent domain to Wall Street not as a threat, but as an investment opportunity. If enough investors find the purchase of underwater mortgages profitable, asset-management firms, like BlackRock, may stop suing the city and instead start buying the mortgages themselves. This would allow Richmond to promote its residents’ use value, while not threatening investors’ exchange value.

E m i n e nt domain

Hockett, R. C. (2013). Paying Paul and robbing no one: An eminent domain solution for underwater mortgage debt. Current Issues in Economics and Finance, 19(5), 12-64. Logan, J. R., & Molotch, H. L. (1987). Urban fortunes: The political economy of place. Univ of California Press. Not waving but drowning. (2014, January 4). The Economist. Retrieved from http://www.economist.com/news/finance-andeconomics/21592644-radical-plan-help-underwater-homeownersmakes-comeback-not-waving.

Yunzhi Ou “Festive” NewAGORA Orleans,9Louisiana

edeR Redesigning tpme empty nretla na AN ALTERNATIVE APPROACH TO elbatiuqe EQUITABLE WATER MANAGEMENT u g i y n a i t tianyi gu t c e t i h c r a f o r e t s a M Master of architecture, 2016

Flood risk and the widespread shutoff of residential water utilities are looming threats to the City of Detroit. Supplementary infrastructure as a safeguard against these shutoffs provides an exploratory alternative to water management on the premise that water access is a fundamental human right. The theoretical application of compensatory infrastructure in the North End neighborhood demonstrates the systemâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s adaptability to differing neighborhood settings. The system is replenished by the water cycle via capture components that are integrated into community landscapes and buildings, whether they are vacant or occupied. Residentsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; direct access to the system maximizes opportunities for agricultural use, infrastructure extension, and most importantly, protection of the human right to safe drinking water.

u rb a n de s i gn

T H E N O RT H E N D The North End neighborhood, bounded by Woodward Avenue to the West, is located just beyond Detroit’s urban core. Unlike the adjacent Downtown, Midtown, and New Center districts, the North End has yet to attract significant reinvestment. The population loss that has persisted in Detroit for decades has been particularly dramatic in the North End. The neighborhood’s 2013 population, approximately 12,350 residents, is 30 percent less than 2000 population (U.S. Census Bureau, 2013). Most of the remaining residents have low incomes, and 38 percent of land in the neighborhood is vacant (Midtown, Inc., Vanguard CDC, 2012, p. 33). In spite of these challenges, the North End community actively preserves the neighborhood’s character. Public murals, sculptures, and gardens create an inviting atmosphere and a positive sense of place.

D E T RO I T ’S WA T E R CRISIS The widespread shutoff of water services in Detroit neighborhoods, including the North End, has attracted international scrutiny. In 2014, the Detroit Water and Sewage Department shut off nearly 40 percent of customer accounts, including over 30,000

family homes, due to unpaid bills (Williams, 2015). The controversy centers on the tension between the premise that access to water is a basic human right and the difficulty of providing costly services via Detroit’s inadequate water infrastructure. Amid community protests, DWSD proposed raising service rates in Detroit by 3.4 percent in the 20152016 fiscal year (Ramirez, 2015). Officials insist that service rate increases are unavoidable due to the need to cover operating costs, even though many Detroiters struggle to meet these payments. Just as the shutoff crisis reached its peak in the summer of 2014, record rainfalls caused unprecedented flooding in Metropolitan Detroit. The ensuing damages cost more than $1 billion (Crain’s Detroit, 2014). Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) relief funds have bolstered local recovery efforts, but the issue of future storm water management remains unresolved. Addressing the extensive disrepair of Michigan’s roadways has become a priority for state and local governments in 2015, leaving little political focus on storm water infrastructure upgrades.

Figure 1 Transformation of Detroit’s Water Infrastructure

AGORA 9

No rt h E n d Wat e r M anageme nt Mode l

P o rta b l e Wat e r S e rv i ce S tat i o n s Residents can fill portable water vessels at these stations for their daily needs. Stations will be located within 400 feet of homes.

S t o rm Wat e r B i o re t e n t i o n B a s i n Basins are an ecological option for mitigating flood risk and facilitating water recharge. Vegetation can enhance their effectiveness.

B ru s h S t re e t A g ri cu lt u ra l N e t w o rk

KRYSLER DR.

OAKLAND

AVE.

WOODWARD AVE.

Structures with incorporated water catchment systems will anchor local farms and food markets along Brush Street, uniting ecology and public health.

E GRAND BLVD. Portable Water Service Stations

Building Use Commercial/Culture

400 feet

Re de s i g n i n g e mp t y

Residential Unoccupied Buildings

A P O S S I B L E S O L U T ION: Comp e nsat ory WA T E R I N F RA S T RUCTURE The hypothetical implementation of compensatory water infrastructure in the North End demonstrates the potential for an ecologically designed water system that meets Detroitâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s water needs. Neighborhood-based infrastructure that uses existing structures and the natural water cycle can provide drinking water and manage runoff without

the oversight or costs of a closed system. The compensatory model also creates opportunities for symbiosis with urban agricultural programs, which are on the rise in the North End and throughout the city. Ecologically integrated water and agricultural systems can produce more food, manage storm water more efficiently, and preserve water access.

1 Water collection surface built from trusswork of a vacant building

2 Gravity-fed filter for purifying rain water 3 Filtered water storage tank

4 Water pump 5 Portable water service station 6 Unfiltered storage tank for irrigation,

hydroponic, and aquaculture farming

Figure 2 The roof trusswork of the vacant house is recomposed on-site to support a rain catchment structure for household drinking water and agricultural infrastructure.

AGORA 9

O P E N WATE R INFRAST RUCTURE

BRUSH StReet NETWORK

The fundamental feature of the compensatory model is infrastructure that the public can both easily access and customize. The catchment and storage components will be integrated into the vacant lots and structures that dot the landscape

The flowing water of the compensatory system will add to the natural character of the North Endâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s landscape and be adaptable for future neighborhood needs. If any of the neighborhoodâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s agricultural organizations expand, like the Michigan Urban Farming Initiative or the Detroit Shrimp aquaculture farm on Brush Street, additional infrastructure can accommodate increased food production. Growth of agricultural operations and community gardens will increase the availability of healthy food and improve the neighborhood landscape. Additional infrastructure will also provide basic services to new residents expected to arrive as development in Midtown continues and the M-1 Rail and Midtown Loop Greenway are completed (Eligon, 2014).

of the North End and other Detroit neighborhoods. If possible, materials from vacant structures will be repurposed to build the infrastructure components. These facilities will be self-sustaining and open to all residents. Unlike users of traditional systems, residents will choose the extent of interconnectivity between collection and distribution components based on the needs of the neighborhood. Households can link to a shared system to draw water for dayto-day use, and agricultural operations can build their own catchment units to accommodate greater need for water. Public water service stations will ensure water is always available. The system has countless possibilities for shared or independent operation, growth, and reduction.

Figure 3 The Brush Street Network

Re de s i g n i n g e mp t y

Open water infrastructure would enhance the quality of life in the North End beyond the provision of drinking water. Neighborhood-based system management will create the opportunity for residents to choose how the water system will

BRUSH ST

E GRAND BLVD

Figure 4 Community Center Floor and Site Plan

contribute to public space. Running water and gardens can provide a scenic amenity, enhancing the pedestrian experience of neighborhood streets. Beautified streetscapes can also be designed to invite patrons from the shops and bodegas planned for Brush Street and Oakland Avenue (Midtown Detroit, 2012).

C O M M U N I T Y C E N TE R A new community center, architecturally inspired by the compensatory infrastructure design, will anchor the Brush Street network and the developing mixed use district along East Grand Boulevard. The center will feature a multipurpose community space, an art gallery, and a restaurant

linked to a food market. North End residents, farmers, and artists can use the space to share their crafts and hold social events. As private development eventually follows the M-1 Rail to the North End, the community center will maintain a permanent space for public use. It will also connect the North End to the surrounding districts. The buildingâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s unique design, in addition to its culinary and artistic offerings, will draw Detroiters from across the city, as well as out-of-town visitors. Greater non-motorized transit connectivity can also be established by including the center along the proposed Detroit Greenway routes. Overall, the center will exhibit dedication to community and natural ecology.

Figure 5 Community Center on Grand Boulevard AGORA 9

Re de s i g n i n g e mp t y

Figure 6 Community Garden and Gathering Space

AGORA 9

R EF ER E N C E S Crainâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Detroit Business. (2014, December 22). Aftermath of August flooding: 10 billion gallons of sewer overflows, $1 billion in damages. Crainâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Detroit. Retrieved from http://www.crainsdetroit.com/ article/20141222/NEWS/141229993/aftermath-of-august-flooding10-billion-gallons-of-sewer-overflows Eligon, J. (2014, July 6). Testing ground for a new Detroit. The New York Times. Retrieved from http://www.nytimes.com/2014/07/07/ us/mayor-mike-duggans-pledges-echo-in-detroits-north-end. html?_r=0 Midtown Detroit Incorporated, Vanguard Community Development Corporation. (2012). North End neighborhood investment strategy. Detroit, MI. Midtown Detroit Incorporated, Vanguard Community Development Corporation. Ramirez, C. (2015, February 26). Detroit water customers protest rate hikes at hearing. The Detroit News. Retrieved from http://www. detroitnews.com/story/news/local/wayne-county/2015/02/25/water-rates-detroit/24017427/

Re de s i g n i n g e mp t y

U.S. Census Bureau. (2013). Retrieved from total population, census tracts 532200, 532300, 532400, 533900, 511400, 511900, 511200, 985100, 2009-2013 American Community Survey 5-Year Estimates. Retrieved from http://factfinder.census.gov/faces/tableservices/ jsf/pages/productview.xhtml?pid=ACS_13_5YR_B01003&prodType=table Williams, D. (2015, February 6). Letter: Detroit Water Brigade part of larger struggle. The Detroit News. Retrieved from http://www. detroitnews.com/story/opinion/2015/02/06/letter-detroit-water-brigade/22943273/

Pier Amelia Davis “A Wino’s Land Use Plan” Napa,9California AGORA

mehdiabadi divide“Don’t d cit ie sShoot!” San Francisco, California Pier Amelia Davis

POLICE BRUTALITY

For the first time, Agora is dedicating a portion of its journal to one topic: police brutality. The Symposium serves as a time capsule. It is a space to recall past tragedies and to ruminate upon those that took place in 2014. This was the year that the nation reopened the discussion on police brutality and its disproportionate effects on minorities. 2014 dispelled the already tenuous argument that the U.S. has that we have asked planning students: why does police brutality continue to happen, and what is our role, if any, in preventing it? Where does planning for safe communities end and enforcement of safety begin? The authors chosen for the symposium here discuss various ways that planners can re-examine their own practice to create inclusive and safe places.

CONTRIBUTORS

entered a post-racial society. This is also the first time

Harley F. Etienne, Michelle Bennett, Danielle Jacobs, and Lacey Sigmon

SYMPOSIUM 001

AGORA 9

HARLEY F. ETIENNE

ASSISTANT PROFESSOR OF URBAN AND REGIONAL PLANNING

Planning, Brutality, and Race Expanding Planning’s Disciplinary Boundaries

different than the victims. Oppression then becomes about the marginalization, powerlessness, cultural imperialism, exploitation and violence of the other group (Young, 1990).

We now find ourselves in a bad year in a string of bad years of race relations in the United States with seemingly unrelenting battery of senseless tragedy after senseless tragedy. The most high profile tragedies involved unarmed African Americans, most not violating the law, and gunned down by police or armed citizens. Several common threads tie these events together: 1) perpetrators who viewed African American victims as threats to their own safety; 2) a rush to assassinate the character of the victims; and, 3) empathy and compassion for the police and other assailants based on their fears of Black crime.

Using Iris Marion Young’s “Five Faces of Oppression” as a guide, we can connect violence to both oppression and a rational objective: “to defeat a formally defined enemy, or to prevent a subjugated group from challenging, or weakening or overturning authority structures” (Young, 1990, 149). Oppression and the evil we can associate with it stems from the normalization of the violence. In our current society, we have become so immune to the ubiquity of evil that it’s almost impossible to find situations where it might actually apply (Delbanco, 1995). The ordinariness—or banality—of evil in our current lives makes it perhaps easy to evade a sense of moral outrage against acts such as the ones we have witnessed over the past several years (Arendt, 1994).

It must be said that there is something morally unacceptable about Americans so readily accepting those three threads as “normal.” The only context in which that is possible is one where African Americans and other men of color are so dangerous, immoral, corrupt and irredeemable that their deaths at the hands of police or armed citizens can be easily and routinely justified. Their assailants have found sympathetic police, prosecutors, juries, and judges, and even financial support by those who are sympathetic to their anxieties about African Americans.

symposium

In these incidents and the reaction to them, we can see evil and systemic oppression. There are varying definitions of both concepts that we can use but the idea that ties various definitions of each and them to each other is the inhumanity of the victims. Systematic violence, in these cases, can be justified against the different, the less than, and the presumed guilty who deserve their fates. That is only possible if the perpetrators are “good” and fundamentally

police brutalit y

Using a concept such as “evil” to summarize the events of the past several years may seem inappropriate or even hyperbolic. However, the current tenor of race relations in the United States recently can be viewed as an opportunity for planning to critically examine the role of planners and planning thought in creating and reproducing the kinds of spatial segregation and isolation that make such tragedies possible. One way to achieve that objective is to employ concepts such as evil to create a sense of urgency about the need to exploit the moment for the purpose of reflexive thinking in planning. For academic and professional planners, to have no moral outrage about segregation and its unintended byproducts, such as systemic violence and increasing inequality, is to forfeit the ability to claim authority on the well-being and interests of the communities we claim to serve.

“BLACK CRIMINALITY, OR THE RACIALIZATION OF CRIME, CONTINUES TO SHAPE HOW AFRICAN AMERICANS ARE VIEWED AND HELPS WHITES AND BLACK ELITES TO JUSTIFY ONGOING DISCRIMINATION.” If we use Yiftachel’s (1998) definition of planning as a field that is about the “formulation, content, and implementation of spatial public policies,” then we must consider phenomenon such as mass incarceration, over-policing, police brutality, and violence as having a spatial rubric. Which is to say that such phenomena are not occurring randomly in space. They are happening where people of color are thought to not belong or in spaces where their behavior must be controlled. Urban geographers can also lay claim to such a position but lack the same connections to practice and policy planners claim to have. With our multidisciplinary approach to cities and human settlements, planning both studies and creates place (Pinson, 2004). In both circumstances, we are either setting the stage for tragic violence to occur or we are keeping our disciplinary gaze narrow enough to commit a form of moral evasiveness by declaring those phenomenon are beyond the disciplinary boundaries of our field. Planning and police brutality are linked through one issue that planners do profess to care about: social justice. There is, and has been for some time, a substantial group of urban dwellers for whom economic mobility is limited, if not impossible (Sharkey, 2013). This same group is also the most targeted for detainment, arrest, wrongful conviction, and harsher penalties for the same crimes that others also commit, and if they can overcome that, stand a good chance of finding themselves unable to afford housing in other areas where they might find better economic opportunities. Since 1970, racial segregation has decreased significantly. However, African Americans remain “hypersegregated” from the rest of American society (Denton, 2006). With people of color, and African Americans in particular, spatially segregated in most major metropolitan

areas of the country. With such spatial divides and a lack of social connections across racial groups, popular images of African Americans as “sexually promiscuous, uncontrollably aggressive, drug crazed, self-indulgent, dangerous, worthless and irredeemable” persist (Baum, 2011). As Khalil Muhammad writes in “The Condemnation of Blackness”, racist police, prosecutors, juries, judges and criminologists all conspired to reach a self-fulfilling prophecy about the inevitability of urban crime at the hands of dangerous, immoral, unintelligent, and licentious African American men. This narrative is backed by decades of unjust indictments, convictions and sentences. The very racialization of crime did not allow for the redemption of Black men as it did for Irish and Jewish immigrants who were also deemed dangerous and criminal upon their arrival. Social scientists at the turn of the century worked tirelessly to debunk these narratives, not only because they were not scientifically rigorous but also because their own identities, political interests, and redemption were tied to rewriting them (2010). Black criminality, or the racialization of crime, continues to shape how African Americans are viewed and helps whites and black elites to justify ongoing discrimination. This logic has been dangerous and harmful to cities, urban communities, people of color, and whites themselves because it supports a narrative that Black pathology destroys cities and that neoliberal policy and control of these spaces will restore them. Understanding how these narratives operate and sustain themselves over time would require a dramatic expansion of the scope of planning research and thought. As of now, there is little evidence to support the assertion that the canon of planning scholarship

AGORA 9

on cities and racial inequality comes anywhere close to covering the breadth and depth that area of inquiry. Borrowing from a rational-technical and positivist traditions from the social sciences, planners often fail to critically examine the structures that sustain Black criminality in place and its implications for urban revitalization and more importantly, social justice. If actors in an urban environment are rational atomistic units that create the empirically tested trends and phenomenon we find, then we can obscure our own roles and remove the urgency to intervene. While race is of interest, planning does not fully engage it as a sociological concept that shapes what we do or how we understand cities. If we do consider it, we consider it after we have considered other factors, practices, and structures, and often do not do so as critically as we could (Mier, 1994). Both planning practitioners and academics rarely evaluate the “success” or “failure” of plans with the reduction of racial and economic inequality as a principle goal and focus. Even if we wanted to do so, the metrics of both are often highly subjective, easily challenged, and obtuse. An expansion of the field of planning might help create new discourses and subfields where such analyses could exist.

symposium

Even if we choose to cling to our positivist technical-rationality, and not examine the connections between the various structures that are complicit in the oppression of people of color, we have to appreciate the sheer cost of mass incarceration (Roeder et. al, 2015; Alexander 2010). We would have to consider the lost economic impact of the incarcerated population who are not contributing to the labor and housing markets through their wages and spending. We would also have to consider the economic and environmental impacts of race-inspired suburban sprawl. We would

police brutalit y

have to consider how racism and segregation fragment regional economic development planning and stunt growth at both regional and national scales. Lastly, we would have to consider how much more effective planning practice would be if it could intervene in any of the abovementioned phenomena. Yiftachel’s arguments are again useful for understanding that planning has straddled the fence between its more positive reform side and its “darker” control side. On the one hand, the reform functions of planning seek to create more justice, opportunity, and freedom for individuals in space. On the more obscure side, planning can be seen to contribute to the worsening of “intergroup disparities and inequalities and undemocratic domination” (1998). Trends of decreasing affordability and significant displacement in cities such as New York, Washington, D.C., San Francisco, Chicago and others speak to our complicity to facilitate the dominance of capital in processes of planning and development. The dearth of planning scholarship that connects hypersegregation, decreasing affordability, overpolicing, police violence and mass incarceration as forces that are shaping how cities look and operate today is evidence of this dark side. To that end, planning scholarship has a vested interest in the functioning of the practice and may avoid exposing how planning practice actively participates in control and repression through its work. Analyzing planning’s darker side delegitimizes the larger project of planning in some ways. With no positive practice to examine, we lose the boundary between our body of knowledge and the more general field of urban studies. We also lose the prescriptive and normative policy edge that further separates us from our more opaque, self-referential, and discursive social sciences.

To say that planning has no interest, no stake, no expertise and no business interfering or interloping in the areas of police brutality and abuses of power, mass incarceration, and the decimation of public education means that we have marginalized planning to the business of making places pretty and amenable to speculative land development. We settle for being visionaries who assist the functioning of markets and keep blinders on tight enough to not see anything beyond what we chose to see. It suggests that we have no intellectual or practical interest in the harsh realities of life for the vast majority of people of color who inhabit the cities we claim to care so much for. It accepts there is nothing planning can do to interrupt the current state of affairs and will no longer even question it. If planning continues to ignore the link between police brutality, mass incarceration and the increasing economic polarization of cities, we will use visionary planning to exercise

control over cities instead of acting as agents of reform. We will unintentionally (further) imperil the legitimacy and future of our field by choosing to ignore its most severe crises. History will not be kind to us for our failures as we simultaneously declare our commitment to fairness, democracy, inclusion and rigorous research that supports those ideals and so fundamentally forfeit our opportunity to intervene in the current course of events. It will simply not suffice to declare anything other than that making cities safer, more accessible, affordable, welcoming, beautiful and dynamic for all people is central to what planning is. The only way to ensure that this is possible is to expand our approach to our practice and to our study of urban phenomena.

The author would like to thank Scott Campbell for his critical feedback on this essay.

AGORA 9

Community Policing

MICHELLE BENNETT

MASTER OF URBAN PLANNING, 2016

A Collaborative Approach to Ending Police Brutality

Likely causes for police brutality are more nuanced than the media’s reports on historical racial segregation. The argument for segregation causing racialized police brutality implies that if Michael Brown and Darren Wilson were neighbors, Brown’s death would not have happened. If Wilson had seen that Brown went to school regularly, ate dinner every night with his family, and played football with his friends, would he have killed Brown even if he felt threatened? Would Brown’s actions on the day of his death have been dismissed as typical teenage boy behavior rather than that of a thuggish criminal had they been neighbors? This article looks at the missing link between planning, policing and community. Examining Ferguson’s socio-spatial conditions challenges the idea that residential proximity expedites the process of social cohesion. Spatial analysis of the location of households by race demonstrates that Ferguson “is a functioning multiracial community” in which “blacks and whites live side by side” (Rodden, 2014). While St. Louis is the 11th most segregated city in the United States, Ferguson, a suburb, is relatively racially heterogeneous. However, fruitful community building requires complete racial integration over mere spatial proximity of different races.

symposium

In 1968, Melvin Webber, a UC Berkeley professor, wrote in the “Post-City Age” that the riots that ensued after a violent event were misinterpreted as racial conflict. Webber observed that in the 1965 Watts Riot, “the police and the city were merely convenient symbols of the rioters’ frustrating sense of powerlessness and of the many handicaps keeping them from bridging the social gap” (Webber, 1968). While blacks had a higher

police brutalit y

standard of living than those of previous generations, the gap of relative wealth between blacks and whites was still noticeable, regardless of whether or not they lived in the same neighborhood. Webber also developed the idea of “community without propinquity.” “Propinquity” connects two related ideas: proximity and kinship. Race relations today reveal the contradiction of these terms; your community is whom you associate with (kinship), which is not necessarily your neighbor (proximity). When neighborhoods remain in a state of fear and resentment for decades, planners have failed to achieve their fundamental task of creating safe and livable communities. Heightened media coverage shows the public vociferously condemning police officers’ unjust and fatal mistreatment of minorities. This coverage highlights the fact that American cities remain highly segregated even though the “dissimilarity index,” a statistical tool that planners use, shows decreasing segregation in major metropolitan zones (Logan and Stults, 2011). While planners may understand the limitations this metric has in quantifying racial conflict, they continue using it and distance themselves from police brutality, riots, and continued segregation. By hiding behind “objective” metrics such as indices, economic models, and zoning, planners fail to capture the complex and poignant social history behind police brutality. As a result, they fail to prevent its recurrence. Responding to social turmoil as a technocrat is inappropriate and unacceptable. When the people you plan for must take to the streets to be heard, a new approach must be sought.

SOL UTION IN COL L ABORATION Questioning police brutality is not outside the scope of a planner’s role; public safety, equitable policies, and improvements to quality of life are goals that planners strive

“IF WILSON HAD SEEN THAT BROWN WENT TO SCHOOL REGULARLY, ATE DINNER EVERY NIGHT WITH HIS FAMILY, AND PLAYED FOOTBALL WITH HIS FRIENDS, WOULD HE HAVE KILLED BROWN?” for. Exposing the recent deaths of unarmed black youth and the ensuing public momentum towards correcting these injustices, coupled with instituting a paradigm shift towards inclusive processes, may be the necessary combination for addressing the disconnect between planning, policing, and community.

the white officer was acquitted, but the city did not riot. The CPD, the U.S. Department of Justice, and Cincinnati signed a Memorandum of Agreement to change police practices and how they were monitored, but the agreement is not binding and was written in vague terms (Innes and Booher, 2010).

Fighting crime has limited effects on reducing crime. Arguably, planners are as important as police because “community institutions are the first line of defense against disorder and crime” (Bureau of Justice Assistance, 1994). Technological advances shifted the emphasis from preventing crimes to responding to crimes. Police officers, no longer patrolling the streets on foot, severed valuable relationships with residents, isolating themselves and exacerbating the “us versus them” mentality. In the 1990s, community policing emerged to confront swiftly changing demographics in cities. It aims to leverage the knowledge of the community and to use collaboration to prevent crime. Unlike previous policing methods, community policing “depends on optimizing positive contact between patrol officers and community members” (Bureau of Justice Assistance, 1994).

Through interviews with police, a disconnect surfaced between how police officers view their role in the community and how the community views them. When police spoke frankly with community members, they were surprised to hear that residents were more concerned with issues of public safety than of crime. Police officers reported that they worried tending primarily to “softer crimes” undermines their relevance. Through candid interviews, police officers admitted to discourteous behavior toward blacks, a lack of professionalism, and pulling over minorities without probable cause. They are unsure how to balance liberty and order when blacks demand safer communities but resist increased patrolling and periodic frisking (Thacher, 2001).

In 2001, the Cincinnati Police Department (CPD) was sued in a class action lawsuit for racial profiling. During the lawsuit, a police officer shot and killed an unarmed black teenager. The CPD had killed 15 black males in eight years. The city erupted into a three-day riot “more devastating” than any other race riot in the U.S. (Innes and Booher, 2010). A third-party mediator took on a year-long collaborative project to bring all of the stakeholders to the table. Due to a history of complacency on improving race relations, the city became one of the many stakeholders in this process, not one of the leaders. Over the year, a total of 3,500 participants met regularly in four-hour sessions to discuss the community’s goals. In the end,

Honest communication and democratic action have been missing but can be used to forge links between the formerly separated fields of planning and policing to examine interrelated social issues. Planners not only must continue to actively participate in collaborative efforts, but also must have the foresight to initiate them. When a city experiences 15 deaths of unarmed black males within eight years, planners must know that their policies have failed to correct racial and social imbalances. A first step in correcting these issues is for planners to engage in dialogue as stakeholders. Removing the social distance between themselves and citizens allows planners to operate as concerned stakeholders and engage in a pluralist setting. By shifting the process towards collaboration and civic engagement, planners can play a legitimate role in creating a safer place for their constituents.

AGORA 9

A Broader Planning Practice

DANIELLE JACOBS

MASTER OF PUBLIC HEALTH + MASTER OF URBAN PLANNING, 2015

Considering Unconscious Biases and Institutionalized Racism

Recent deaths of African-Americans caused by police violence have ignited discussions around race and social justice. Police brutality is defined as “the use of excessive and/or unnecessary force by police when dealing with civilians” (Danilina, n.d.). However, police brutality is not limited to physical force. It also includes false arrests, verbal abuse, and racial profiling (Danilina, n.d.). Research shows that all forms of police brutality disproportionately impact African Americans (Bureau of Justice Statistics, 2011). Police brutality is a product of, at a minimum, unconscious bias and institutionalized racism. Biases and racism are intertwined with urban planning practice, sometimes leading to discriminatory plans and policies. This essay is a call for planners to be more ethical and effective in our work, to examine our unconscious biases, to plan proactively in order to meet the needs of all community members.

U n c o n s c ious Bias and D i s p ro p ort ionat e Impact

symposium

Conscious and unconscious racial biases are some of the many causes of police brutality. Unconscious biases are unacknowledged tendencies towards a particular perspective, which interfere with our ability to be unprejudiced or objective (Winters, 2014). Everyone has these biases, no matter their profession, social identity, or racial group, and they do not necessarily mean that the individual is racist or sexist. In the context of police brutality, these biases often creep into police conduct, affecting whom officers target and how they preserve “safe” communities. Biases can lead to verbal abuse, racial profiling, and sometimes violence. The Leadership Conference on Civil and Human

police brutalit y

Rights determines that these predispositions often lead to police brutality in minority communities and writes that “indeed, many instances of police brutality against minorities begin with a misperception on the part of law enforcement officials – based purely on race – that a particular individual of color is a criminal suspect” (2015). Unconscious biases lead to unbalanced policing of minority communities, making those communities targets of police violence. These unacknowledged tendencies also show up in urban planning decisions, resulting in policies that disproportionately burden low-income and minority communities. For example, in the 1990s, the Los Angeles County Metropolitan Transportation Authority (MTA) funded a costly rail rapid transit system to the suburbs, while simultaneously raising bus fares and cutting bus services in the city. Many argued that this transit policy benefited the majority-white transit riders commuting from the suburbs and harmed the mostly low-income, minority individuals relying on bus services in the inner city. The Bus Riders Union, a large grassroots mass transit advocacy group composed of mostly low-income bus riders, filed a civil rights lawsuit against the MTA, alleging that its policy discriminated against minorities. The court agreed and ordered the MTA to improve its inner-city bus service policy (Grengs, 2002). This recent case shows how urban planners are sometimes guilty of pursuing policies without considering the unintended impacts. Thus it is important for planners to take the time to become fully aware of our unconscious tendencies before we implement a policy or plan. The recent police brutality events and the preceding MTA example should remind planners of our ethical duty to think proactively about how our actions and inactions affect the multiple communities for which we plan.

“UNCONSCIOUS BIASES LEAD TO UNBALANCED POLICING OF MINORITY COMMUNITIES, MAKING THOSE COMMUNITIES TARGETS OF POLICE VIOLENCE.” The AICP Code of Ethics and Professional Conduct states: “We shall seek social justice by working to expand choice and opportunity for all persons, recognizing a special responsibility to plan for the needs of the disadvantaged and to promote racial and economic integration” (American Planning Association, 2009). This alludes to the famous advocacy planner, Paul Davidoff, and his call to planners to challenge the notion that only one public interest exists and to support the intentional planning for multiple public interests (1965). This still holds exceptionally true today. Urban planners must be ethical planners, which requires continuous re-examination of how our biases shape planning practice for the multiple publics we serve.

I ns t i t u t i o n a l i z e d Racism Police brutality is one of many products of a larger system of racial injustice. Institutionalized racism is “discriminatory treatment, unfair policies and inequitable opportunities and impacts, based on race, produced and perpetuated by institutions” (Lawrence & Keleher, 2004). Unconscious and conscious biases lead to stereotypes, which often cause unintended discriminatory norms and practices. In her new book, The New Jim Crow, Michelle Alexander (2011) powerfully writes about the norms and practices of the criminal justice system. She stresses that the Supreme Court allows police to use race as a factor when determining whom to stop and search for evidence of a crime, leading to heavy policing in African-American communities and mass incarceration of black and brown men. Such discriminatory policies and practices are often ingrained in institutions, which makes them difficult to dismantle. Urban planning offices are also institutions that can create or perpetuate racial injustices if they do not carefully examine their own norms and policies. Overt racism in the traditional sense

is far less common today than prior to the Civil Rights Movement, as in the MTA example, more subtle discrimination exists and often results from not challenging injustice. As a predominately white profession, most urban planners have the privilege of ignoring racial inequities because we do not experience them personally. It is on planners to fix this problem. Melba Joyce Boyd, an African-American poet and distinguished professor, spoke at the 2015 Taubman MLK Symposium about how she disliked being the only person in the room to speak up when racial issues arose, encouraging all planners to provide “backup,” or, in other words, to be brave and speak up when they see injustices. For example, a planner could respectfully question a coworker’s plan that would expand bus routes in predominately white, affluent neighborhoods, while maintaining the same level of service in predominately low-income or minority neighborhoods. Thinking of unintended impacts and questioning ideas before they become policies and plans is one way to create a more equitable planning institution. The power to change institutions comes from the people within them. The unconscious biases and institutionalized racism that lead to police brutality have clear, applicable connections to urban planning work. Recognizing how unconscious racial biases cause police violence provides planners with an opportunity to see how our own biases or misconceptions may shape planning practice. Understanding that institutionalized racism exists outside of extreme contexts like police brutality should motivate planners to examine our actions and inactions. Reflecting on our biases and practices will ultimately make us better, more effective planners who design and plan for communities where everyone can thrive.

AGORA 9

Spaces of Police Brutality

LACEY SIGMON 70

symposium

MASTER OF URBAN PLANNING, 2015

Why Planners Should Actively Disassemble Them

Police brutality is not new in America, yet recent public awareness reveals its importance as a topic for public discussion. While urban planning has become a jack-of-all-trades, its relative absence in discussions around police brutality is troubling. By being silent on the matter, planners sit idle while spaces of police brutality are created. There are two important contributors to spaces of police brutality: community policing and the broken windows theory. Research shows that rates of violent crime have decreased in America, yet police presence and non-violent arrests in impoverished neighborhoods are still prevalent (Nuno, 2013). By ignoring how community policing and the broken windows theory have affected minority communities experiencing disinvestment, planners have missed the opportunity to create safe spaces for all urban residents. Community policing is a tactic police departments use to reduce crime and increase a sense of safety through informal patrolling. The logic behind community policing is that if police are more visible in their communities, residents will not only recognize that the police are available in an emergency, but also feel confident in police capacity to prevent crime (Veer et al, 2012). This tactic became prevalent in most urban areas in 1999 (Nuno, 2013). While the reasoning behind it seems sound, studies have shown that increased police presence does not necessarily lead to an increased sense of safety. Surprisingly, research shows that the presence of police can often make residents feel unsafe (Veer et al, 2012). Furthermore, informal police presence can make people, especially males, more vigilant and therefore

police brutalit y

appear less calm (Veer at al, 2012). Despite unclear evidence of the actual effects of community policing, nearly 20 percent of urban police forces are dedicated to this tactic (Nuno, 2013). The broken windows theory suggests that an area with high rates of physical disarray, such as broken windows that are not repaired immediately, has a higher likelihood of crime. Therefore, if minor offenses are punished harshly, major crimes will be committed less often for fear of punishment or because people committing minor crimes are also committing major crimes (Gau & Pratt, 2010). Despite the theoryâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s purported logic, there is a lack of evidence showing that physical disarray leads to crime. Rather, what has become clear is that the institutional structures that lead to poverty create an environment of physical disarray and crime (Gau & Pratt, 2010). Even though the theory has a tenuous foundation, it has fundamentally changed American policing. Rudy Giuliani made the first policy connection between this theory and crime mitigation. He helped create a zero-tolerance policy for minor qualityof-life offenses in New York City (Gau & Pratt, 2010). One detrimental effect of zerotolerance policing is that the response to the crime committed is no longer required to be proportional; it is understood that the response need not be questioned (Lorenz, 2010). The interactions between race and poverty mean that zero-tolerance policing disproportionately affects poor minority Americans living in blighted communities. Because minorities in poverty tend to have less political power, there is little room to express grievances with this policy (Gau & Pratt, 2010). The outcome leads to heightened frustrations and increasing tensions.

â&#x20AC;&#x153;PLANNERS HAVE THE TOOLS TO HELP CHANGE THE DIALOGUE ABOUT DISINVESTED NEIGHBORHOODS... WE SHOULD BE ADDRESSING THE UNDERLYING ISSUES: LACK OF EQUITABLE ACCESS TO EDUCATION, HOUSING, TRANSPORTATION, AND JOBS.â&#x20AC;? The combination of community policing and the broken windows theory has contributed to spaces of police brutality in communities of poverty. Poverty underlies both tactics, but neither tactic addresses the root problem. In the cases of Michael Brown and Eric Garner, community policing and the broken windows theory played a role in the tragic outcomes. In both situations, the police engaged these men while patrolling disinvested neighborhoods. Neither police officer was responding to a crime. The police engaged Michael Brown and Eric Garner for allegedly committing minor offenses like walking in the street and selling cigarettes. Both Ferguson, where Michael Brown was shot, and the Tompkinsville neighborhood in Staten Island, where Eric Garner was killed, have significantly higher rates of poverty than the surrounding areas. Because of the higher rates of poverty, these areas are likely visually more blighted than more affluent surrounding areas. These areas also have a higher concentration of blacks (Smith, 2014; Mueller, 2014). While planners

do not have a hand in creating police policy, and arguably should not, planners do deal with spatial issues. The combination of community policing and zero-tolerance responses in areas of disinvestment and poverty has led to the concentration of tensions, mistrust, and injustices. Planners can actively separate community policing and the broken windows theory from areas of poverty by addressing poverty itself. Planners must stop ignoring geographically concentrated and racialized poverty. Planners have the tools to help change the dialogue about disinvested neighborhoods. Rather than seeing them as dangerous places that require increased policing, we should be addressing the underlying issues: lack of equitable access to education, housing, transportation, and jobs. Planners can and should play a more significant role in decoupling police brutality from minority and impoverished communities by addressing these root causes. Black and minority lives matter.

AGORA 9

Re f e re n ce s Eti enne

J aco b s

Alexander, M. (2012). The new Jim Crow: Mass incarceration in the age of colorblindness. New York: The New Press.

Alexander, M. (2011). The new Jim Crow: Mass incarceration in the age of colorblindness. New York: The New Press.

Arendt, H. (1994). Eichmann in Jerusalem: A report on the banality of evil. New York: Penguin Books.

American Planning Association (2009). AICP code of ethics and professional conduct. Retrieved from https://www.planning. org/ethics/ethicscode.htm

Baum, H. (2011). Planning and the problem of evil, Planning Theory, 10(2), 103-123. Delbanco, A. (1995). The death of Satan: How Americans have lost the sense of evil. New York: Farrar, Strauss and Giroux. Mier, R. (1994). Some Observations on Race in Planning, Journal of the American Planning Association, 60(2), 235-240. Muhammad, K.G. (2010). The condemnation of blackness: Race, crime and the making of modern America. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Pinson, D. (2004). Urban planning: an ‘undisciplined’ discipline? Futures, 36: 503-513. Roeder, O, Eisen, L.B. & Bowling, J. (2015). What Caused the Decline in Crime? New York University, School of Law, Brennan Center for Justice. Sharley, P. (2013). Stuck in place: Urban neighborhoods and the end of progress toward racial inequality. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Yiftachel, O. (1998). Planning and social control: Exploring the dark side, Journal of Planning Literature, 12(4), 395-406. Young, I.M. (1990). Justice and the politics of difference. Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Danilina, S. (n.d). The law dictionary. Featuring Black’s Law Dictionary Free Online Legal Dictionary 2nd Edition. http:// thelawdictionary.org/article/what-is-police-brutality/ Davidoff, P. (1965). Advocacy and pluralism in planning. Journal of the American Institute of Planners, 31 (4), 331-338. Grengs, J. (2002). Community-based planning as a source of political change: The transit equity movement of Los Angeles’ Bus Riders Union. Journal of the American Planning Association, 68 (2), 165-178. Lawrence, K. & Keleher, T. (2004). Chronic disparity: Strong and pervasive evidence of racial inequalities. The Race and Public Policy Conference. The Leadership Conference on Civil and Human Rights (2015). Chapter one: Race and the police.

Bennett Bureau of Justice Assistance. (1994). Understanding community policing: A framework for action. U.S. Department of Justice. Retrieved from https://www.ncjrs.gov/pdffiles/commp.pdf

S i g mo n

Innes, J., & Booher, D. (2010). Planning with complexity: An introduction to collaborative rationality for public policy. Oxford: Routledge, 52-58.

Gau, J.M., & Pratt, T.C. (2010). Revisiting broken windows theory: Examining the sources of the discriminant validity of perceived disorder and crime. Journal of Criminal Justice, 38.

Logan, J., & Stults, B. (2011). Persistent segregation in the metropolis: New findings from the 2010 Census. Retrieved from http://www.s4.brown.edu/us2010/Data/Report/report2.pdf

Lorenz, A.R.S. (2010). The windows remain broken: How zero tolerance destroyed due process. Public Integrity, 12(3).

Thacher, D. (2001). Conflicting values in community policing. Law & Society Review, 35.4: 765-98.

symposium

Bureau of Justice Statistics (2011). Use of force. Office of Justice Programs. Retrieved from http://www.bjs.gov/index. cfm?ty=tp&tid=703

Winters, M. (2014). Unpacking our biases, unconscious and conscious-part 1: What are unconscious biases? Can we really change them? Retrieved from http://www.theinclusionsolution. me/unpacking-our-biases-unconscious-and-conscious-part-1what-are-unconscious-biases-can-we-really-change-them/

Rodden, J. (2014). Is segregation the problem in Ferguson? The Washington Post. Retrieved from http://www.washingtonpost. com/blogs/monkey-cage/wp/2014/08/18/is-segregation-theproblem-in-ferguson/

Boyd, M. (2015, January 15). Panel discussion & questions from audience. Hatcher Graduate Library, Ann Arbor, MI.

Webber, M. (1968). The post-city age. Journal of the American Arts and Sciences, 1092-110.

police brutalit y

Mueller, B. (2014, December 4). Outcome of Eric Garner case bares as Staten Island divide. The New York Times. Nuno, L.F. (2013). Police, public safety, and race-neutral discourse. Sociology Compass, 7(6). Smith, J. (2014, August 17). In Ferguson, black town, white power. The New York Times. Van de Veer, E., De Lange, M.A., Van Der Haar, E., & Karremans, J.C. (2012). Feelings of safety: Ironic consequences of police patrolling. Journal of Applied Social Psychology, 42(12).

AGORA 9 Ecuador John Monnat “Hi-Guard” Quito,

EHT THE POLITICS OF POWER DNA AND PUBLIC SPACE NITAULAVE EVALUATING VIOLENCE IN P ,IHCARAK KARACHI, PAKISTAN i h a r b I a h i j a W Wajiha Ibrahim

a l P n a b r U f o r e t s a M Master of Urban Planning, 2016

Karachi has been deemed one of the worldâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s most dangerous cities. Using it as an urban laboratory, I investigate the role of physical space in the materialization of power, urban insecurity, and violence. I identity the key spatial factors that invite violence-driven power schemes: institutions of informality, structures of social division, and pockets of high-density settlement. The case of Karachi shows that relative weakness of state organizations in terms of their ability or willingness to plan the city, or to ensure a uniformly enforced system of property rights, led to divergent societal and political responses most frequently manifesting in acts of urban violence.

hat is the role of physical space in the materialization of power, insecurity, and violence? This question is critical to executing effective policies and interventions for urban security in the global south. In this study, I explore how physical space is leveraged by nonstate actors to establish territorial control. Regions of insecurity often exhibit ongoing battles where acts of violence have no bounds. But what is it that makes certain urban landscapes more inviting to violence-driven power schemes? To investigate, I explore the spatial paradoxes of Karachi, which was deemed one of the world’s most violent cities in 2011 (Gazdar, 2013). In examining Karachi, I identify three factors that influence and perpetuate urban insecurity: Institutions of Informality compromise the state’s capacity by encouraging a toxic dependence on special-interest groups for conditional assistance; Structures of Social Division exacerbate marginality and socioeconomic divisions between low-income and vulnerable populations; Pockets of High-Density Settlements produce a forum for systemic gang recruitment and agendadriven indoctrination.

These elements work together to transfer power and control into the unauthorized hands of non-state actors: groups and individuals that are exempt from the rule of law. Current literature on regions of insecurity and rampant violence focuses on ways non-state armed actors use territorial control to establish power within a region (AlSayyad, 2011, p. 25). This idea is central to understanding the relationship between physical space and violence; however, contemporary analysis fails to explore how this power is established. I found little evidence of studies that evaluate how physical space impacts violence, as most focus on the impacts of violence on physical space.

This study intends to contribute to our understanding of the role of physical space in the production of violence. I present the case of Karachi with the hopes of pursuing further research on methods to mitigate the city’s urban insecurity. Too often, planners and policy-makers normalize the implementation of solutions that are intended for extremely divergent cultural, social, and environmental circumstances. By highlighting the unique strategies used to manipulate land and its functionality in Karachi, we can approach regional policy with a better grasp of the layered variables that feed urban insecurity. Eventually, this may determine a more tailored approach to understanding insecurity and devising possible strategies to address it.

CA S E S T UDY: K A R ACHI, PA K IS TA N Overview: A Vol atil e Metropol is Karachi is a city of pronounced paradox. Celebrated as a civic hub of art, commerce, and progressive intellect, it is also a leading source of Pakistan’s instability (Chotani, Razzak & Luby, 2002). The city of 18 million residents is frequently victim to violence and insecurity caused by politically motivated homicides, terrorist and gang-related violence, and crimes that have permeated daily life in Karachi (e.g., robberies, muggings, kidnappings, vehicle snatching) (Kaker, 2013). The city has faced a history of power-brawls between mafia, ethnic, and political groups who apply extortion tactics, such as land grabbing, evictions, and settlements, to create and shape constituencies. Pitched firefights that go on for days between gangs, or between gangs and the police, are not uncommon. It should come as no surprise that Karachi is listed among the world’s most dangerous megacities.

AGORA 9

physical form, we must also interrogate the nature of the urban conditions that have allowed such violence to flourish. These visible markers of violence in physical form evoke the question: How did Karachi arrive at this conjuncture?

Understanding the Institutions of Inf ormal ity

Map 1 Karachi and Surrounding Geographies

IBRAHIM

Since the advent of the U.S.-Pakistan alliance in the ‘War on Terror,’ Karachi has witnessed a severe increase in internal violence. Pakistani Taliban militants have gained a foothold in the city, carving out territory in neighborhoods like Manghopir, where they run criminal and smuggling rackets, rob banks, and administer a cruel and terrifying form of justice (Chotani, 2002). Taliban groups have attacked multiple targets in Karachi: state security forces, army installations, US and NATO supplies, foreign consulates, fivestar hotels, mosques and shrines, and religious and political processions. This violence and the associated fear of violence have had a visible effect on Karachi’s landscape: razor wires, guarded barriers, checkpoints and road closures, and enclave settlements are scattered across the city (Faruqui, 1995). Although it is valuable to understand how this urban insecurity impacts

T H E P OLIT ICS OF P OW E R AND P UBL IC SPACE

The current violence in Karachi needs to be understood as a continuum of tension from the years following Pakistan’s independence in 1947 (Faruqui, 1995). At the time of partition from India, Karachi was inhabited by a large number of affluent Hindus, Muslims, and Christians. The controversial decision to name Karachi the nation’s federal capital, a title it held until 1960, attracted over 600,000 immigrants from the Muslim areas of India who sought government and white-collar jobs (Gazdar, 2013). The massive influx of Mohajir migrants competing for jobs provoked hostility among the indigenous Sindhis. Additionally, housing for these migrants became a severe issue for both municipal and national authorities who needed not only to stabilize the new capital, but also to lay a foundation for a new nation. Their initial priority was providing shelter for the government employees who had been transferred to Pakistan, while poorer refugees lived in makeshift camps, locally known as bastis, that had emerged in public spaces in and around the urban center (Gayer, 2007). Throughout the 1950s and 1960s, the government demolished, evicted, and relocated the informal refugee settlements. However, these efforts left 250,000 refugees needing to be “resettled” in 1953; in 1958, 100,000 refugees were still unsettled (Gayer, 2007). The state provided refugees with residential plots far from the city center in suburban sites: Malir, Korangi, Khokrapar (presentday East Karachi district), and Orangi. Although

the Karachi Development Authority (KDA) was established to systematically relocate refugee settlements to lots designated for displaced partition migrants, its main focus became creating large housing schemes for the urban middle class of Karachi (Gazdar, 2013). These efforts to restructure refugee settlement policies appeased the urban elites, thus neglecting the very population that the policies were initially created to serve. Karachi’s repeated implementation of ineffective refugee housing policies has led to the rise of informal economies of land tenure. Most refugees are tenants who are subject to various forms of conditional leases from non-state authorized landlords. The astronomical profits presented to landlords created an informal economy of housing capital, perpetuating a chain of dependency. The tenant pays rent, the landlord pays whoever deals the plot of land, and the chain continues through actors that are still unknown. The fundamental right to shelter is controlled by a powerful group of landlords, who are in turn controlled by a larger power of mafia-like gangs. The hierarchies of power continue to lock urban residents into a rigid cycle of violence and enforced poverty. In the ensuing decades, Karachi’s bastis grew in size and number, especially by Pathan populations from the North-West Frontier Province (NWFP), who made up most of the labor force for the city’s construction (Ghazdar, 2013). As a response to growing migrant populations, illegal subdivisions became common as “independent private persons” developed and sold peripheral land even though they lacked property rights over it (Ghazdar, 2013). These informal entrepreneurs were in close contact with police officers, politicians, and bureaucrats, whose connections offered basti dwellers a certain degree of security against eviction (Faruqui, 1995).

Drug barons and mafia groups made their entry into Karachi’s informal housing market at the peak of the Soviet War, when Karachi served as an initial staging area for lucrative opium and

The fundamental right to shelter is controlled by a powerful group of landlords, who are in turn controlled by a larger power of mafia-like-gangs. The hierarchies of power continue to lock urban residents into a cycle of violence and enforced poverty. heroin exports to the drug markets of Western Europe and the Americas. In addition to the concomitant increase in corruption, turf wars and wealth inequities, Karachi paid a human price as the number of heroin addicts rose from less than 10,000 in 1980 to roughly 300,000 by 1990 (Gayer, 2007). Coercion and violence were not new to Karachi’s bastis, but the shocking levels of drug addiction within low-income populations made them an even more vulnerable population and promoted the climb to power for Karachi’s mafia groups and drug dealers.

Ex pl oring Structures of Social Division Karachi has long been characterized by patterns of residential segregation by caste and socioeconomic status. In recent decades, however, the patterns of exclusion have been deliberately altered through organized ethnic public campaigns. A prominent political party, the Muttahida Qauma Movement (MQM), remains entrenched in the complex political scenario of the country. MQM’s political base is primarily the Mohajir, Urdu-speaking immigrants from

AGORA 9

India and their descendants. Using public space to manipulate symbols, organize public street spectacles, and play on a deep-rooted Mohajir sense of victimization at the hands of Pakistan’s indigenous population, MQM established itself as a political hegemony at the violent expense of other ethnic groups, as well as secular and religious political parties (Gayer, 2007). Links between interparty rivalry, ethnic group identity and crime have become a part of the standard narrative of Karachi’s politics (Boivin, 2011). Political violence is readily associated with ethnic conflict in Karachi, as the main parties with influence have identified ethnic support bases.

Densely populated spaces allow mafias and similar extortionist groups opportunities to balance agenda-driven indoctrination with humanitarian assistance.

IBRAHIM

The rise of urban violence has extended beyond the management capacity of municipal authorities and brought about emerging neoliberal policies that promote high-end, enclave development. Residential enclaves in Karachi are affluent, gated communities intended to fulfill the responsibilities of local government and offer security from pervasive urban violence. The irony is that although the city is fast morphing into an “archipelago of secure enclaves, Karachi continues to be drawn into a vortex of violence,” and the residents remain insecure (Gayer, 2007). The phenomenon of enclavization has contentiously been compared to “a new form of apartheid that spatializes biopolitics and perpetuates social segregation based on socio-economic differences” (Chotani, 2002). Creating these divisive communities builds a climate of fear that unapologetically debilitates Karachi.

T H E P OLIT ICS OF P OW E R AND P UBL IC SPACE

This mass enclavization has reinforced the self-perpetuating nature of urban violence. Karachi’s enclaves and satellite towns build antagonistic notions of identity in urban spaces and separate the neighborhoods belonging to Mohajir (those who migrated from India after Pakistan’s independence) from those belonging to Sindhi (the indigenous population living in Karachi pre-independence). These divisive spatial strategies are implemented to establish ethnic and socioeconomic supremacy and the social exclusion of low-income Sindhi and Pathan populations. Where you live defines who you are, but the privilege of choice is limited to the urban elite. This increasing marginality breeds inter-communal and interpersonal violence, propagating the structural continuum of conflict in Karachi.

understanding the rol e of high-density settl ements It is challenging to visualize the rapid pace of population growth in Karachi; statistics simply fail to capture the rise of informal residents. The city’s population grew approximately 80 percent between 2000 and 2010 (Ali, Krantz & Gunilla, 2012). That’s roughly equivalent to adding more than New York City’s entire population in just a decade, and this statistic represents only the formal population living in government-recognized homes and settlements. Refugees live in an environment that, by its very nature, creates social preconditions which ethnic parties and mafia groups use to their advantage. The connection between these groups and refugee camps is pivotal in establishing a structure of dependency for basic necessities and loyalty to the group’s agenda. Densely populated spaces allow mafias and similar extortionist groups opportunities to balance agenda-driven

Map 2 Karachi Conflict Zones, 1985-2005. Conflict is visibly more prominent between regions of ethnic enclaves and neighborhoods. Source: Gayer, 2007.

indoctrination with humanitarian assistance. Ultimately, the recipients of their aid are subject to conditions that support the groupâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s cause. Most villages or slum-shanty growths of uncontrolled urban settlements still lack the facilities of proper cities and receive sporadic bursts of electricity. Groups effectively exploit difficult humanitarian circumstances of refugee camps by providing services and frequently manipulating loyalties, thus creating small communities of political supporters and subordinates (Boivin, 2011). Moreover, dense communities are selected by mafia groups on the basis of their specific spatial and social configurations. For example, pockets of highdensity urban settlements are favorable for these groups because they enable recruitment for conflict and reinforce a hold over target

populations. It is clear that the stateâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s unwillingness to plan the city or to ensure a uniformly enforced system of property rights has led to divergent societal and political responses manifesting in acts of urban violence.

co ncl ud ing r e ma r ks As in most cities, urban violence both influences and is influenced by physical space. While investigating the social, political, and economic circumstances of Karachi, we can begin to understand how physical space is used as a platform to establish territorial control. The cityâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s ethnic divisions, infrastructural failure, and negligent state government allow for conditions under which urban violence becomes a solution and a tactic to deal with crises of governance,

AGORA 9

insecurity, and disruption in everyday urban living. The politics of exclusion exacerbate marginality for more vulnerable residents and users of space, and the inadequate planning of long-term spatial production has led to the prevalence of violence and conflict within Karachi. The prevalence of informality, particularly with respect to urban settlements and land use, is a well-established aspect of compromised state capacity in Karachi. In fact, municipal planning and development in Karachi have not kept pace with Karachi’s exploding population and economic growth. Since there was insufficient housing available to migrants, this resulted in large informal settlements and slums. Today, over 6 million people live in such dwellings (Gayer, 2007). As demand for these services outstrips the government’s ability to supply them, a lucrative sub-economy has sprung up where everything is available – for a price. Rival mafias marked

their turf and consolidated their businesses, often winning over law enforcers and administrators by offering them a slice of the pie. It should be no surprise that Karachi is an extremely difficult city to police, partly because of the constantly changing population, but mainly because of the tangled web of vested interests that operates outside the law. Coping with urban insecurity is not foreign to Karachi’s residents. Although much can be learned from their adaptive capacity, I urge contemporary urban intervention to move beyond adaptation strategies and, instead, understand the factors that produce these issues. Effective policies require a deeper analysis of a city’s physical space and its role in nurturing illicit dynamics of power and violence. Using Karachi’s institutionalized insecurity as a warning, other vulnerable cities can avoid the creation of violent nations.

R ef er e n c e s Al Sayyad, N., & Massoumi, M. (2011). The fundamentalist city?: Religiosity and the remaking of urban space. Oxon: Routledge.

Gazdar, H., & Mallah, B.H., (Nov 2013). Informality and political violence in Karachi urban studies, 50(15), 3099-3115.

Chotani, H.A., Razzak, J.A.,& Luby, S.P. (2002).Patterns of violence in Karachi, Pakistan. Injury prevention, 8, 57-59.

Kaker, A.S., (2013). Enclaves, insecurity and violence in Karachi. South Asian History and Culture, 5(1), 93-107. Chotani. (2002)

Davis, D., Urban Resilience Report. (2011). USAID. Faruqui, M., (1995). Contextualizing Karachi’s violence. Comparative studies of South Asia, Africa, and the Middle East. Duke University Press. Gayer, L., (Jan 2007). Guns, slums, and “yellow devils”: A genealogy of urban conflicts in Karachi, Pakistan. Modern Asian studies, 41(3), 515-544.

IBRAHIM

T H E P OLIT ICS OF P OW E R AND P UBL IC SPACE

Karachi: A volatile metropolis. (2010). BBC News Urdu. Retrieved From <http://www.bbc.com/news/world-south-asia-11342588>. Samper, J. (2013). Physical space and its role in the production and reproduction of violence in the “slum wars” in Medellin, Colombia (1970s – 2013). Informal Settlements Research, MIT. Retrieved from http://informalsettlements.blogspot.com/

Samantha Farr “Broken Pavement” Havana, Cuba AGORA 9

Samantha Farr “Trinidad” Trinidad, Cuba AGORA 9

Samantha Farr “Complexo de Alemão” Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

Building equity

The diminishing affordability of homeownership in the United States has emerged as a theme in todayâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s cultural consciousness. Stories about astronomical housing prices in cities like San Francisco and New York City have become commonplace, and recent college graduates question whether or not they will be able to afford a home in their lifetime. Looking forward, planners must employ innovative strategies to address affordiblity. The following pieces explore two affordable housing policies in the United States. The first critiques the structural shortcomings of the Low Income Housing Tax Credit, a wellknown policy commonly used to encourage development of lowincome housing. The second argues for wider implementation of Shared Equity Homeownership, a policy that ensures housing remains affordable and permits residents to gain wealth through occupancy.

AGORA 9

EHT THE push for tax derc credit reform TS EREHW WHERE STATES ARE FALLING SHORT m s l e g o v d a r b brad vogelsmeier lP nabrU fo retsaM

Master of Urban Planning, 2015

The Low-Income Housing Tax Credit Program has been a popular tool for providing affordable housing in the United States over the past 30 years. Despite its popularity, many scholars and political leaders scrutinize the program for its role in exacerbating social issues, such as poverty concentration and racial segregation in urban areas. This article explores the role that each stateâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Qualified Allocation Plan (QAP) plays in distributing these low-income housing tax credits to developers and the ways in which the QAP may contribute to these social issues. Specifically, the article looks at the state of Missouri and the City of St. Louis as an example of where the autonomy granted to states to oversee credit allocation may work against the overall intentions of the LIHTC program and where potential reform could be successful.

stablished by the Tax Reform Act of 1986, the Low-Income Housing Tax Credit (LIHTC) program has had a prominent role in delivering affordable rental housing in the United States. This federal program has successfully encouraged private developers to invest in affordable housing by using tax credits as an alternative source of project equity (MHDC, 2007). Since 1986, the LIHTC program has helped finance more than 2.4 million affordable housing units for low-income households and is now the largest federal housing production program in the United States (Black, 2014). Even though the supply of public housing continues to decline, the tax credit program continues to grow by about 90,000 units per year (Schwartz, 2008). Several states have made their own individual efforts to expand this production program and, as of 2014, sixteen states had enacted their own low-income housing tax credit programs, which supplement the federal tax credits. Despite impressive housing production numbers, this program does not fully address low-income housing issues, such as poverty concentration, racial segregation, and crime (Johnson, 2014). While several studies show that the LIHTC program has done a better job of deconcentrating poverty than other federal policy programs, more still needs to change (Johnson, 2014). A major cause for concern is the way in which Qualified Allocation Plans (QAP) influence the location of individual projects and whether or not their structure and format heightens some of the aforementioned issues. Broadly, this article explores the credit allocation process and the role of the Qualified Allocation Plan in determining the location of LIHTC developments. More specifically, it looks at the state of Missouri and the City of St. Louis as examples of why the autonomy granted to states to oversee credit allocation may work against the overall intentions of the LIHTC program.

T he Q ua l if ie d A l l o cat io n Pl a n The Internal Revenue Service (IRS) is the governing body responsible for allocating tax credits to individual states based on their population (Shah, 2014). Since its inception, the popularity of the program has caused project applications to exceed the number of available credits. Because of this, individual states play a large role in determining the merit of proposed LIHTC developments. Section 42 of the Internal Revenue Code, the law that governs the LIHTC program, requires the state agency responsible for allocating the tax credits to create an annual QAP, which sets the criteria for project selection. The IRS considers QAPs qualified only if they follow procedural protocol, report situations of noncompliance, and allow for public comment when drafted annually (IRS, 2014). States can set individual priorities and selection criteria within the QAP, but Section 42 sets preferences for projects “serving the lowest income tenants,” “serving income-eligible residents for the longest period of time,” and located in federally designated priority areas as long as the project follows a concerted community revitalization plan (Gramlich, 2013, pg. 1). These “preferences,” as dictated by the IRS, extend as far as mandating that selection criteria include projection location, housing need characteristics, sponsor characteristics, public housing waiting lists, individuals with children, special needs populations, existing area housing, projects intended for eventual tenant ownership, energy efficiency, and historic nature (Gramlich, 2013). Aside from these minimum requirements, states have the autonomy to decide how to define and measure these preferences, how or if to rank them, and whether or not to relate them to other state priorities. Selection criteria are often heavily based on the staff’s opinions and knowledge of housing trends and on selection committee

AGORA 9

identify the best possible LIHTC opportunities. Even though Section 42 requires that states include many of these criteria in the selection process, the degree to which they prioritize them is influenced by what officials consider relevant to state-level needs. For example, several states prioritize projects in economically distressed areas, which are variously defined as areas with ten percent or more of households in poverty, or in what the Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) defines as Difficult Development Areas (DDA) or Qualified Census Tracts (QCT) (Shimburg Center for Affordable Housing, 2001). In order to qualify as a DDA, a location must have high construction, land, and utility costs relative to gross median income; to be considered a QCT, an area must have a poverty rate of at least 25 percent (Black, 2014).

Map 1 LIHTC Properties in St. Louis. Dots are sized in proportion to the number of housing units in each development. Sources: ACS (2008-2013); HUD, 2015.

members’ priorities (Shimburg Center for Affordable Housing, 2001). In a 2001 study of state allocation policies, different states used a number of sources to determine selection criteria, but all states surveyed used staff and board opinion (Shimburg Center for Affordable Housing, 2001). By comparison, only ten of 20 states used an advisory committee or public comment process to determine QAP priorities (Shimburg Center for Affordable Housing, 2001). Other sources of information can include state statutes, research and analysis, consolidated plans, and other state agencies. Such board discretion contributes to the uniqueness and complexity of each state’s QAP.

88 Policy-related selection criteria also play a large role in tailoring an individual state’s allocation plan. Common criteria such as family size, geographic location, local planning priorities, income targeting, and special needs are used to

vogelsmeier

t he p ush for tax cre dit ref orm

Private developers also play a large lobbying role in determining and deciphering the incentives within the QAP. In states with well-defined point systems, many developers will position their projects to score as many “marginal” points as possible. This is because essentially every project applying for credits will receive them, since many point categories act as thresholds or must-have points (Black, 2014). The marginal points then become the most contested because they often influence where developers choose to acquire property for LIHTC use or which properties they already own and will attempt to take the LIHTC and turn into income- and rent-restricted housing (Khadduri, 2013). This process of chasing points reemerges every year during the QAP approval process. Developers use the annual public process to comment extensively on changes that they want made to the QAP, and thus lobby for particular projects and to make other types of projects more fundable (Khadduri, 2013). Through this process the QAP plays a pivotal role in deciding where developers choose to pursue projects.

C r e at i n g L o c ati ona l B a l a nc e The QAP needs to create a better balance among the location of LIHTC projects in order to provide low-income individuals with better access to quality-of-life amenities and to uphold the program’s mission of advancing fair housing practices in the United States. Authors Cummings and DiPasquale found that the LIHTC program is most frequently used to provide additional rental housing opportunities in already-poor neighborhoods rather than generating affordable units in higher-income areas (Burge, 2011). If anything, current development is actually redirecting low-income units that private companies would otherwise develop in higherincome areas. Study findings suggest that this type of development does little, if anything, to improve neighborhood quality in the already-poor neighborhoods (Burge, 2011). State agencies need to incentivize developers to locate projects in “high-opportunity” areas rather than areas or neighborhoods with high rates of poverty (Bray, 2011). Currently, developers may not approach high-opportunity areas because they simply cannot meet the threshold requirements in the QAP due to factors such as high land and perunit development cost. Reform, then, would mean changing the framework by transferring some of the 30 percent additional tax credits, also known as a basis boost, currently awarded to Qualified Census Tracts and Difficult Development Areas, to high-opportunity locations. Typically, high-opportunity areas are geographic areas that are served by high-quality schools and have access to quality transportation, jobs, superior health care, public services, and other amenities (Bray, 2011). These areas traditionally have less existing poverty than the traditional Qualified Census Tract, which means the choice-

based housing voucher program, another housing subsidy program, in these areas may also not be strong. This presents an opportunity for LIHTC projects to locate in neighborhoods where fewer residents use housing vouchers, but rather most of them pay high fair market rents because landlords

Since 1986, the LIHTC has helped finance more than 2.4 million affordable housing units for low-income households and is now the largest federal housing production program in the United States. prefer unsubsidized tenants (Khadduri, 2013). Each state agency also holds a legal responsibility to create locational balance among their housing developments. Because the LIHTC program is subject to the fair housing law, locational balance in LIHTC development falls firmly within the state’s obligation to “positively further fair housing” (Khadduri, 2013). This is not to say that current QAP selection criteria directly violate fair housing law, but rather that an opportunity exists to provide more integrated housing options, which is a direct objective stated in the Fair Housing Act (Khadduri, 2013). Clearly, the QAP is a powerful tool. To better understand how one works in practice and the methods with which individual state QAPs are tailored, we turn to the State of Missouri’s QAP and, more holistically, its LIHTC program to understand the effects of credit allocation decisions, as well as the opportunities for reform within the tax credit system in general.

AGORA 9

H i st o ry of P u b li c H ou s i n g i n M i sso u ri Missouri has been at the center of national discussions on public housing for both its historical ties to Pruitt-Igoe, a famed and failed public housing complex in north St. Louis, and more recent events in Ferguson, Missouri. History has largely dictated where the state now stands in its strategies for addressing issues of poverty concentration, racial segregation, and affordable housing.

vogelsmeier

The implementation of the Housing Act of 1949 marked the beginning of significant disinvestment in large metropolitan areas during the postwar era. Missouri offered incentives for urban renewal projects, subsidies for industry, and incentives for residents to move to the suburbs, which had a particularly large impact in cities like Kansas City and St. Louis. Both cities saw enormous population decline after World War II; St. Louis City lost an incredible 63 percent of its total population between 1950 and 2010, and Kansas City lost 6.7 percent of its population over the same time period despite growing in size geographically (US Census, 2010). In an effort to lure the middle class back to the central city, city leaders proposed public housing projects like Pruitt-Igoe as a way to limit slum expansion and save the economic health of downtown real estate (Bristol, 1991). The result of this planning strategy was a federal commitment for 5,800 public housing units in St. Louis City, about 2,700 of which were earmarked for Pruitt-Igoe’s 57-acre site on the north side, a predominately black ghetto. Federal money was put toward the construction of these projects, but tenants’ rents were expected to supplement the maintenance fees. However, as vacancy rates increased in the first two decades, a vicious cycle of disinvestment began. The project’s eventual demolition in 1972 serves as powerful image of public housing failure in the United States.

t he p ush for tax cre dit ref orm

As one era ended, another began with the U.S. government’s launch of new affordable housing policies such as Section 8, a tenant-based program that allowed low-income individuals to use vouchers and live where they prefer. Although ideally low-income individuals use vouchers to diversify income levels in communities, in many cases they have difficulty using them in highrent areas because the subsidies are capped at a percentage of fair market rent. Capped subsidies during the height of Project Based Section 8 housing resulted in pockets of low-income housing clusters in major metropolitan regions across the state (Kansas City, St. Louis). Data from HUD shows that the number of Section 8 voucher recipients in St. Louis County has doubled since the mid-1990s and that close to five percent of the city’s total population lives in subsidized housing units (Bogan, 2014).

T he Mis s o ur i S tat e L o w- Inco me Ho us ing Ta x Cr e d it More recently, the state has supported LIHTC development as the main method of providing affordable housing. Since the program began in 1986, credits have funded the creation of 52,000 housing units in the state of Missouri (Clarke, 2014). In 1992, increased demand for affordable housing led to the Missouri Low-Income Housing Tax Credit, established under Sections 135.350 to 135.363 of the Missouri Revised Statutes (MHDC, 2007). This credit was originally set at 20 percent of the federal credit, but was expanded to 40 percent in 1993; as of 1997, the state credit matches the federal LIHTC on a dollar-for-dollar basis (Young, 2014). The result has been a significant increase in affordable housing production. The state estimates that $9.60 of economic activity is generated per state credit awarded. Despite the program’s accomplishment of creating over 50,000 housing units, the state tax credit system

has been heavily criticized by the public and the government officials due to its inefficient spending, lack of transparency in project selection, and contributions to creating pockets of immense poverty (MHDC, 2007). A 2014 audit of the Missouri Low-Income Housing Tax Credit showed that Missouri has the highest per capita outlay of state tax-credit authorizations in the nation (Young, 2014). Missouri is only one of two states with a per capita outlay exceeding $20, while six of the ten states including California, Massachusetts, and New York spent less than $5.14 per capita (Young, 2014). The cause for concern is not the absolute figure spent on state tax credits, but rather the amount of money, or lack thereof, that is spent on actual housing construction. This most recent audit found that only 42 cents of every dollar Missouri spends on the program goes toward the physical construction of affordable housing (Bogan, 2014). The rest is lost to federal taxes and syndicators, and offsets the discount investors require when receiving the tax credits over a period of ten years. This current model for financing LIHTC development offers an effective interest rate of over 19 percent. The interest rate is so high because of the time value of money and the smaller pool of players looking to write down their state tax obligations compared to those using the federal credit. Additionally, using a state tax credit actually writes down an investorâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s federal tax bill, which diminishes the value even further. State spending for the LIHTC program is so high in Missouri because it is one of only two states that do not cap the amount of authorized tax credits in a given time frame. Based on levels of current spending, the state projects that it will authorize $3.4 billion credits through 2020 and investors will redeem $2.1 billion (Montee, 2008). Therefore, while the state is able to produce marginally more housing, it does so at a cost of $61,000 per unit. Another cause for concern about the way the state

Maps 2-3 Section 8 Voucher Expansion in St. Louis. Dots are sized proportionally to the number of rental units in which a tenant has a voucher. Source: HUD, 2015.

tax-credit system operates is that the Missouri Housing Development Commission (MHDC) does not disclose how tax credit projects are selected. The state follows a QAP, but Missouri is one of only four states that does not use some type of scoring system in the project evaluation and selection process (Montee, 2008). The MHDC received recommendations in both 2007 and 2008 from the Missouri State Auditor and the Governorâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s White Ribbon Panel to standardize the scoring process, but it still has not made any changes. MHDC staff have stated several times that a scoring system is not used so as to avoid receiving applications from developers who try to score the most points

AGORA 9

comparison amongst all project applications, and never sees the projected project cost for applications not selected.

Census Tract 2119

20%

50%

57%

99%

Living in Section 8

Median Household Income under $10k

One-parent Households

African American

St. Louis County

Ferguson

St. Louis City

Map 4 Demographic information from Census Tract 2119 in Ferguson, Missouri. Sources: St. Louis Post-Dispatch; ACS (2008-2013).

possible (Montee, 2008). However, the lack of a scoring system prevents transparency and adds a layer of subjectivity to the whole selection process.

vogelsmeier

Not only are credits allocated at the sole discretion of the MHDC, but the commission also does not disclose project cost information to the public until after projects are approved. This means that even though the state has the highest per capita outlay for tax credit housing in the United States, the Missouri public does not see the total cost

t he p ush for tax cre dit ref orm

Taken together, these transparency issues have strengthened the perception that the MHDC is heavily swayed by campaign contributions and political influence during the project selection process (Montee, 2008). The State Auditor and the state’s Ethics Commission have looked into this situation on several occasions and cited the difficulty of matching and identifying the source of campaign contributions as the reason this speculation has been neither officially confirmed nor denied (Montee, 2008). With the amount of private money invested in affordable housing, however, the process becomes quite difficult to change at the state level. Bills introduced in the state legislature to scale back Missouri’s program have died each of the past four years, with no current proposal on the table to make any changes (Young, 2014). Missouri’s QAP has also come under intense scrutiny in recent months because of the way it implicitly encourages poverty concentration. In addition to providing a basis boost to Qualified Census Tracts, the Missouri QAP also requires developers to submit a market study dated within six months of the application due date (MHDC, 2013). A contested metric in these market studies is the capture rate of the proposed development, which is required under Development Characteristics §3b of the QAP. The capture rate determines the demand for an individual project based on a given area. This means that if there are more individuals living within the primary market area who qualify for the proposed development, the result will be a more favorable capture rate. Because the MHDC does not disclose how it scores different development characteristics, a developer is left to maximize the project’s metrics, which includes the capture rate (Clarke, 2014).

The result of the QAP’s ambiguity has led to speculation that the LIHTC program has contributed to pockets of severe poverty in the state’s major metropolitan areas. The St. Louis Post-Dispatch, with data courtesy of the MHDC, recently published a series of maps showing the relationship between the incidence of low-income housing and median household income in the St. Louis area. The most noticeable cluster of lowincome housing falls in an area near the famed Pruitt-Igoe site in North St. Louis, which also happens to include the city of Ferguson. Within

This most recent audit found that only 42 cents of every dollar Missouri spends on the program goes into the physical construction of affordable housing (Bogan, 2014). one of Ferguson’s census tracts, 20 percent of the population lives in Section 8 housing, over 50 percent of households have median incomes of less than $10,000, 57 percent are one-parent households, and 99 percent are African-American. Two of St. Louis’ largest LIHTC projects are within blocks of each other, together totaling over 774 units. The QAP may not directly cause this concentration of poverty, but the lack of a scoring system makes this area desirable for development according to a number of the plan’s metrics.

Stat e R e f o r m At the state level, the MHDC and the Missouri State Legislature could reform the LIHTC program in several ways without compromising the organization’s mission to strengthen communities through the development and preservation of affordable housing (MHDC, 2007). Of primary

concern is the need to cap the number of credits or increase the value of the state credit so more money is spent on the actual construction of affordable housing. One possibility, suggested by Governor Jay Nixon’s low-income housing panel, is to cut the credit’s payback period from ten years down to five. This would increase the buying power of the credit and, as the commission reported, fund 30 percent more housing units for the same amount of money (MHDC, 2007). Alternatively, five bills in the Missouri House and Senate in the past two years have considered capping tax credit authorizations, but none of these have passed. A more politically feasible solution might be a technical restructuring of the credit, which would minimize federal tax implications for investors and lower the effective interest to a more reasonable level (Montee, 2008). The second tier of necessary reform comes in the process of project selection. A uniform and transparent scoring system provides a level of consistency and cross-comparability when evaluating both proposed and selected projects (Montee, 2008). Additionally, the MHDC needs to make more information, such as proposed project costs, available to the public before project selection. Together, these two recommendations eliminate the possibility for political influence in project selection and allow the public to engage with and respond to the process for prioritizing new LIHTC development. Lastly, the state should revise the QAP to help deconcentrate poverty and create more mixedincome communities. Missouri currently gives basis boosts to projects in “high-growth” areas, but this ignores issues of access to highquality schools and public services. Assessing a project’s strength on accessibility to transit, schools, and other amenities would serve a more effective purpose than looking at areas with high concentrations of poverty as dictated by the QCT’s definition.

AGORA 9

The MHDC also needs to limit LIHTC development in Qualified Census Tracts and Difficult Development Areas that do not truly possess a community revitalization plan. Currently, developers can point to outdated master plans as fulfilling the necessary requirements for such a plan, even if communities do not actively adhere to these plans. The solution is to either eliminate the community revitalization plan requirement or mandate that communities update their plans more frequently. In total, the goal of these statewide reforms is to increase the efficiency of the tax credit program through both fiscal and social responsibility, as well as increase total transparency.

Co ncl us io ns The LIHTC program has been an effective mechanism for providing affordable housing in the United States. Permitting states to decide how these credits are allocated is important, but states can still do more to improve the social fabric in the areas where they locate development. State priorities as outlined in the QAP are vitally important to determining where these projects are located and how they affect the neighborhoods. It is the responsibility of these designated state agencies to effectively integrate affordable housing within our communities and establish a transparent selection process. The extent to which they can accomplish these changes will most certainly affect the longevity of the LIHTC program.

R ef er e n c e s 2014 Qualified allocation plan for MHDC multifamily programs. Rep. N.p.: Missouri Housing Development Commission, 2013. Print. Bogan, Jesse. “As low income housing boomed, Ferguson pushed back.” St. Louis Post Dispatch (2014): n: pag. Web. Bray, Timothy. “The QAP as policy lever” The Institute for Urban Policy Research at the University of Texas at Dallas (2011): n. pag. Web. Clarke, Ross. The low income housing tax credit: Challenges presented by the onset of year 15 in the St. Louis region, Washington University, 2014. Print. Cook, John. Cost/benefit analysis of the Missouri low-income housing tax credit program. Rep. N.p.: BKD, LLP, 2007. Print. Desai, Mihir. “Tax incentives for affordable housing: The low income housing tax credit.” Tax Policy and the Economy 21.1 (2010): n. pag. JSTOR. Web. Gramlich, Ed. “Qualified allocation plan.” National Low Income Housing Coalition (2014).

vogelsmeier

t he p ush for tax cre dit ref orm

Khadduri, Jill. “Creating balance in the locations of LIHTC developments.” Poverty and Race Research Action Council (2013): n. pag. Web. Montee, Susan. Analysis of the low income housing tax credit Program. Rep. N.p.: Missouri State Auditor, 2008. Print. Schwartz, Alex. “After year 15: Challenges to the preservation of housing financed with low-income housing tax credits.” Metropolitan Institute at Virginia Tech 19.2 (2008): n. pag. Web. Shimberg Center for Affordable Housing. The low income housing tax credit and multifamily bond financing, “The Florida Housing Finance Corporation” (2001) n. pag. JSTOR. Web. Wallace, James. Evaluating the low-income housing tax credit. Rep. N.p.: Jossey-Bass, 1998. Print. Young, Virginia. “High cost, low benefit of Missouri housing tax credit assailed in audit.” St. Louis Post Dispatch (2014): n: pag. Web.

Brad Vogelsmeier “Reflections” Chicago, AGORA 9 Illinois

Samantha Farr “São Paulo from the Sky” São Paulo, Brazil AGORA 9

rahs shared equity moh homeownership BADROFFA AFFORDABLE HOUSING, WEALTH BUILDING, MMOC DNA AND COMMUNITY EMPOWERMENT l e i f r a w t t a m matt warfield w laicos fo retsam

master of social work + Master of Urban Planning, 2015

Shared equity homeownership (SEH) programs offer an opportunity to effectively provide affordable housing to low-income families, while also allowing for wealth accumulation. Homeownership is often beyond reach for low- and moderateincome households as they are unable to afford entry costs. Additionally, race-based discriminatory policies have denied homeownership access to minority populations. Community land trusts and limited equity cooperatives provide models through which SEH is applied, which ensure continued housing affordability. SEH programs ensure that a public investment will provide the greatest good to the greatest number of people. In addition, SEH programs offer an opportunity for low-income households to become empowered and gain a sense of autonomy.

hared Equity Homeownership (SEH) is an effective, powerful approach to providing affordable housing services. While traditional affordable homeownership programs provide one-time grants or forgivable loans that do not outlast the initial recipient of the subsidy, SEH programs maximize the potential of the subsidy by keeping it invested in the home (Axel-Lute, n.d.; Kennedy, 2003; Jacobus & Davis, 2010). This provides affordable housing access to multiple households and offers a â&#x20AC;&#x153;stable, sustainable, lowrisk mechanism for providingâ&#x20AC;Śwealth creation to unlimited numbers of families over the long termâ&#x20AC;? (Jacobus & Davis, 2010, p. 29).

M a r ke t Fa i l u r e s For many households, homeownership is beyond reach as entry costs are high and programs to support homeownership favor middle- and upper-income households. The mortgage interest deduction program, the main federal program supporting homeownership, costs the federal government more than $70 billion each year, yet does little to promote homeownership outside of providing a benefit for higher-income households (Fischer & Huang, 2013). Most housing assistance for low- and moderate-income households targets rental housing, with fewer than ten percent of expenditures going toward affordable homeownership (Olsen, 2007). Considering that homeownership is virtually the only way for lowand moderate-income households to build wealth, the lack of accessibility to homeownership has contributed to a growing wealth gap even more severe than that of income inequality (Jacobus & Davis, 2010). According to the Institute for Policy Studies (2014), the top ten percent of income earners control 84.5 percent of the wealth, while the bottom 50 percent of income earners control a mere 0.8 percent.

Minorities face even greater wealth disparities, many of them due to a lack of access to homeownership opportunities. Historically, federal housing programs to boost homeownership have denied access to minority households. Sixty-eight percent of U.S. households own their homes, but only 47 percent of African-Americans and 48 percent of Latinos are homeowners, compared to 72 percent of whites (Jacobus & Davis, 2010). More recently, predatory mortgage lending practices have disproportionately targeted minorities. The foreclosure crisis of the late 2000s resulted in the greatest loss of wealth for minority households in modern U.S. history. African American borrowers lost an estimated $92 billion, and Latino borrowers lost an estimated $98 billion due to subprime mortgages (Policylink, 2009). In 2013, the median net worth of white households was $141,900, compared to $11,000 for African Americans and $13,700 for Latinos (Kochhar and Fry, 2014). More than 70% of this difference could be attributed to the disparity in home equity alone (Orzechowksi & Sepielli, 2003). Wealth is a fundamental building block in a market-based system; the more wealth one has, the more wealth one can generate. Lack of opportunities for homeownership worsens gaps between low-income and wealthy households, as well as between white and minority households. In addition, those with less wealth have less political, social, and economic power. Finally, households with less wealth are also less equipped to endure problems like job loss or a major illness. Providing opportunities for households to accumulate wealth is just as important as providing housing that is affordable. SEH programs offer an effective model for simultaneously delivering affordable housing and providing opportunities for wealth building. Additionally, as programs that invest in communities, they work to overcome racial barriers to homeownership.

AGORA 9

A homebuyer purchases the home...

Homeowner owns the home outright, and enters into agreement with the CLT

CLT

...and leases the land from the CLT

CLT maintains ownership of the land, working in partnership with the homeowner

Homeowner sells home at a price set by the CLT and keeps a portion of the increased equity

The CLT reinvests their portion of the equity appreciation back into the home, keeping it affordable for the next homebuyer

CLT The remaining equity goes to the CLT

Figure 1 How a Community Land Trust Works: A community land trust makes a home affordable by separating the cost of the land from the cost of the home.

Income and racial inequality in the U.S. is likely to continu, and without drastic changes, relying upon the market alone to address these conditions is not sufficient (Kennedy, 2003). SEH programs provide an opportunity to address these issues in a way that the market cannot. In this article I will detail the SEH model, describing how community land trusts and limited equity cooperatives act as steward organizations, and illustrate how the model effectively provides both affordable housing and modest wealth gains.

100

De f i n i n g S h a r e d E qu i ty H o m eow ne rs h i p SEH is a general term for an array of programs that offer an alternative to renting and traditional homeownership (HUD, 2012). SEH programs

warfield

s h are d e quit y home ow ne rship

typically involve a steward organization that partners with the homeowner. In addition, the programs require that the homeowners occupy the home, that equity be shared, and that affordability be maintained over time (Axel-Lute, n.d.; HUD, 2012). A nonprofit or government entity provides a subsidy to make homes affordable. The subsidy lowers the cost of the home, reducing the amount a buyer must borrow. The steward organization enters into an agreement with the homeowner that restricts the resale price and requires that, at resale, a portion of the equity remain with the home. The equity that remains with the home is reinvested, keeping the purchase price of the home low and enabling the initial subsidy to benefit multiple households (Jacobus & Davis, 2010). Steward organizations also share the responsibilities, risks, and rewards of owning the home, in addition to protecting its affordability and quality over time. These organizations also offer technical support to the homeowner. As partners who have a vested interest in the home, steward organizations often provide low-interest loans for home maintenance and educational training on budgeting and home upkeep. The main job of the steward organization is to protect the interests of both the community and the homeowner (Jacobus & Davis, 2010).

T he Co mmunit y L a nd T r us t a nd L imit e d E q uit y Co o pe r at iv e Steward organizations often take shape as a community land trust (CLT) or limited equity cooperative (LEC) (Axel-Lute, n.d.; HUD, 2012; Jacobus & Davis, 2010). These models differ in how they operate and how they maintain affordability and generate wealth for the homeowner. Typically, CLTs and LECs exist as independent organizations; however, sometimes other organizations

manage them. For example, a nonprofit such as a community development corporation could manage a CLT, or an LEC could be part of a larger cooperative of cooperatives. Overall, CLTs and the LECs balance the needs of the community with the needs of the homeowner, while ensuring continued housing affordability.

C o m m u n i t y L a n d Trust Community land trusts are nonprofit, communitybased organizations designed to ensure community stewardship of land (National Community Land Trust Network, n.d.). CLT homeowners and non-CLT public representatives often govern their boards. A CLT makes a home affordable by separating the cost of the land from the cost of the home. Using philanthropic and public subsidies, the CLT purchases or develops homes in a targeted geographic area and then sells those homes at an affordable price. The homeowner purchases the home outright and enters into a ground lease with the CLT, paying a monthly ground lease fee to the CLT to support its operations. The long-term renewable ground lease includes restrictions for the homeowner that are designed to benefit both the homeowner and the community. One such restriction is that the homeowner agrees to occupy the home and resell it at a price set by an affordability formula detailed in the ground lease. When the homeowner sells the house, a portion of the increased value of the home goes to the homeowner, and the CLT keeps the rest. The CLT reinvests the increased value back into the home, keeping the purchase price low for the next homeowner and preserving affordability for future low-income households. CLTs preserve land for affordable housing and protect low-income homeowners from land speculation and displacement caused by rising

housing prices. Since CLTs are comprised of neighborhood members, they use the equity generated by increased land value for resident welfare and neighborhood interests, rather than as profit for individual landowners (Kennedy, 2003). CLTs also help stop neighborhood deterioration

Since CLTs are comprised of neighborhood members, they use the equity generated by increased land value for resident welfare and neighborhood interests, rather than as profit for individual landowners. by investing in abandoned buildings and maintaining the neighborhood. A major cause of neighborhood decline is absentee property owners who neglect properties and/or purchase properties as investments, letting them sit empty until the property value increases. CLTs bring property ownership into the hands of community members, thus giving them greater control over occupancy and development. In addition, since the ground lease requires that homeowners occupy their homes, investors cannot turn property into rental property, which increases the likelihood of obtaining occupants who have a greater investment in the neighborhood.

L imited Equity Cooperative An LEC is a type of SEH where “shareholder residents manage their buildings…and have a right to get back what they have paid for their shares plus an allowance for improvements” (Kennedy, 2003, p. 85). Residents buy shares or membership in the cooperative, which entitles them to a ‘proprietary lease.’ Residents can then access and use their shares to build wealth if

101

AGORA 9

and when they decide to move out (Nembhard, 2014). Generally, a fixed monthly amount is paid that covers operating expenses and the mortgage for the building (Gary, Marcus, & Carey, 2005). Residents manage the building and work to prevent deterioration and abusive or discriminatory management decisions, as well as limit improvements that may make units no longer affordable when resold (Kennedy, 2003). In addition to providing affordable housing, LECs promote resident participation through selfmanagement and community responsibility. For example, residents have equal voting privileges on decisions related to the operations of the LEC (Kennedy, 2003). LECs see participation in this process as a value in and of itself, where self-management and autonomy empower marginalized and oppressed groups. Cooperatives go beyond individual homeownership to promote stronger communities through democratic processes and increased resident interaction (Gray, Marcus, & Carey, 2005).

H o w doe s S ha r e d E qu i ty H o m eow ne rs h i p ma i nta i n a f f o r da b i l i ty a nd ge n e rate wea lt h?

102

warfield

CLTs and LECs use resale restrictions as a way to maintain affordability over time. The resale restrictions also stipulate the amount of wealth that residents can gain from the sale of the housing unit or share. The CLT model is similar to traditional homeownership in that the homebuyer takes out a mortgage on the subsidized home price and then makes mortgage payments each month. Since the CLT model provides for individuallyowned homes, homeowners are at a greater risk of losing wealth due to fluctuations in the housing market and local economic conditions

s h are d e quit y home ow ne rship

than homeowners in LECs. In the LEC model, the cooperative owns the the building or development, which enables it to pool its resources and have greater flexibility in adjusting the resale price of the share.

Af f ordabil ity and Wealth - Community L and Trust CLTs use resale restrictions that are stipulated in the ground lease to maintain affordability and generate wealth for the homeowner. The resale restrictions determine the maximum

After an initial investment of $2 million, 350 households gained affordable housing. It would have cost five times as much money to serve the same number of households under traditional affordable housing programs. sale price and, in turn, the amount of wealth the homeowner will grow. CLTs use a number of formulas to determine this price. The most common formula is shared appreciation, through which the homeowner receives a percentage of the homeâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s equity appreciation value, typically set at 25 percent (Sherriff, n.d.). The affordability of the home is maintained by keeping the remaining equity and the original subsidy with the home. The resale value of the home ends up as the original purchase price plus the sellerâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s equity share. Wealth accumulated for the homeowner is dependent upon the housing market at the time of sale and how much the home appreciated in value. The home is kept affordable relative to the cost of housing in the area.

A f f o rda b i l i t y and W e alt h - Limit e d Eq u i t y C o o p e rat ive LECs have a different process of wealth accumulation than CLTs, and in many ways, they are more concerned with affordability and maintaining community than with wealth gain for its members. Since the LEC corporation owns the mortgage, homeowners purchase a lease or membership into the cooperative and pay a monthly fee to the corporation that covers the cost of the mortgage. Upon leaving the LEC, the homeowner sells his or her membership to the cooperative. The cooperative determines the selling price of the membership, which is typically the initial cost of the membership adjusted for inflation plus some percentage of equity. Oftentimes, members receive compensation for any improvements made on their units to ensure that they leave the LEC having incurred only expenses related to the monthly cooperative fee. Given that the cooperative holds the mortgage, the LEC has greater flexibility with the resale price. LECs can adjust to local needs and restrict resale pricing to ensure affordability for a specific income level (Gray, Marcus, & Carey, 2005). Compared to CLTs, LECs tend to offer fewer opportunities for wealth accumulation. Instead of distributing equity to members upon resale, LECs can decide to use equity to provide an insurance fund for members in case of financial instability or to invest in common property (Kennedy, 2003).

SEH - A n Ef f e c ti ve Mod e l f or Aff o r da b l e Hou s i n g ? A review of several SEH programs throughout the country demonstrated that the SEH model made homeownership affordable for households making as little as 35 percent of area median income (Temkin, Theodos, & Price, 2010). In comparing

Figure 2 How a Community Limited Equity Cooperative Works. Each share owner purchases a membership in the LEC. When the shareowner leaves, the membership is sold at a price determined by the cooperative.

LECs and CLTs, LECs made homeownership available to lower-income households, those between 35 percent and 50 percent of area median income, whereas CLTs made homes affordable for households making upwards of 55 percent of area median income. This demonstrates that LECs may be a better model for delivering affordable housing to extremely low-income households and could act as a transitional model into CLTs and other homeownership programs. In addition to providing affordable housing, SEH programs extend the benefit of public and philanthropic subsidies. A study of the Champlain Housing Trust (CHT), located in Northwest Vermont, showed that after an initial investment of $2 million, 350 households gained affordable

103

AGORA 9

housing. It would cost five times as much money to serve the same number of households under traditional affordable housing programs (Jacobus & Davis, 2010). The CLT model is also more efficient than traditional homeownership programs, as programs like the Low-Income Housing Tax Credit (LIHTC), mortgage subsidies, and the Community Reinvestment Act do not provide for long-term affordability nor promote community responsibility and resident empowerment (Kennedy, 2003).

C o n c l u s i on The purpose of SEH programs is not just to help people move through the market system, but also to “counter the tendency of the market to generate, through the combination of employment instability, neighborhood instability, and the various forms of racial and class discrimination, an endlessly renewed sector of urban misery” (Kennedy, 2003, p. 91). For a population that is often marginalized and shifted around from one controlling institution to another, it is empowering to gain opportunities to shape and control one’s future. As urban planners, we need to build these opportunities into our intervention strategies and help empower marginalized populations so that they can defend themselves in an oppressive system.

104

warfield

s h are d e quit y home ow ne rship

From an investor’s perspective, housing is a commodity rather than a home. It exists for the purpose of profit. While SEH programs do not correct the inequities of a market-based system, they do offer a compromise between the complete decommodification of housing and a purely market-driven approach. SEH programs offer homeownership opportunities while also achieving larger social goals (Gray, Marcus, & Carey, 2005). They also preserve affordability and extend the benefit of public subsidies to multiple households (Jacobus & Davis, 2010). SEH programs help stabilize neighborhoods by stemming the tide of rising housing costs and curtailing neighborhood decline, and help empower low-income households and communities (McStotts, n.d.). Lastly, and most importantly, SEH programs provide an opportunity for low-income households to accumulate wealth. As Jacobus and Davis (2010) conclude, “wealth is not just about money. It is a means to freedom, status, security, opportunity, and perhaps most importantly, the ability to take risks without worrying that your whole life will fall apart if you go without pay for a few months” (p. 29). Given these benefits, planners should more readily use SEH programs to address affordable housing in their communities.

Re fer e n c e s Axel-Lute, M. (n.d.). Homeownership today and tomorrow: Building assets while preserving affordability. National Housing Institute. Retrieved from: http://www.nhi.org/research/success/2054/. Fischer, W., & Huang, C. (2013). Mortgage interest reduction is ripe for reform: Conversion of tax credit could raise revenue and make subsidy more effective and fairer. Center on Budget and Policy Priorities. Retreived from: http://www.cbpp.org/ cms/?fa=view&id=3948. Gray, J., Marcus, J., & Carey, J. D. (2005). A model worth considering for affordable home ownership and strengthened communities: Cooperative housing. Journal of Housing and Community Development, 62(6), 20â&#x20AC;&#x201C;24. Institute for Policy Studies. (2014). Wealth inequality. Retrieved from: http://inequality.org/wealthinequality/. Jacobus, R., & Davis, J. E. (2010). The asset building potential of shared equity home ownership. New America Foundation. Retrieved from: http://assets.newamerica.net/sites/newamerica. net/files/policydocs/Shared_Equity_Jacobus_Davis_1_2010.pdf Kennedy, D. (2003). The limited equity coop as a vehicle for affordable housing in a race and class divided society. Howard Law Journal, 46, 85-125. Kochhar, R., & Fry, R. (2014, December 12). Wealth inequality has widened along racial, ethnic lines since end of Great Recession. Pew Research Center. Retrieved from: http://www.pewresearch.org/ fact-tank/2014/12/12/racial-wealth-gaps-great-recession/. McStotts, J. C. (n.d.). Dwelling together: Using cooperative housing to abate the affordable housing shortage in Canada and the United States. Retrieved from: http://digitalcommons.law.uga.edu/cgi/ viewcontent.cgi?article=1268&context=gjicl.

National Community Land Trust Network. (n.d.) FAQ. Retrieved from: http://cltnetwork.org/faq/. Nembhard, J. G. (2014). Cooperatives and wealth accumulation: Preliminary analysis. The American Economic Review, 92(2), 325329. Nembhard, J. G. (2014). Community-based asset building and community wealth. The Review of Black Political Economy, 41, 101â&#x20AC;&#x201C;117. Olsen, E., O. (2007). Promoting homeownership among low-income households. The Urban Institute. Retreived from: http://www.urban. org/UploadedPDF/411523_promoting_homeownership.pdf. Orzechowski, S., & Sepielli, P. (2003) Net worth and asset ownership of households: 1998 and 2000. Current Population Reports, P 70. Sherriff, R. (n.d.). Balancing asset-building opportunities with ability to preserve affordability in a homeownership program. Center for Housing Policy. Retrieved from: http://www.nhc.org/media/ documents/AB_Principles_FINAL1.pdf. Temkin, K., Theodos, B., & Price, D. (2010). Balancing affordability and opportunity: An evaluation of affordable homeownership programs with long-term affordability controls. Washington D.C.: The Urban Institute. U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD). (2012). Shared equity models offer sustainable homeownership. Retrieved from: http://www.huduser.org/portal/periodicals/em/fall12/ highlight3.html.

105

AGORA 9

106

107

Chris Herlich “How Can You Pick?”Bangalore, India AGORA 9

ciD a a Dichotomy of tluc cultures RUTAN EHT THE NATURE OF JAMAICAN ED TROSER RESORT DEVELOPMENT a D a i l e m A r e i P Pier Amelia Davis

a l P n a b r U f o r e t s a M Master of Urban Planning, 2015

p h o t o j ournalism

n abundance of private resorts and luxurious destinations have cropped up across Jamaica and most of the Caribbean over the last several decades. As the demand for and subsequent development of these gated resorts increase, the potential for economic dependence and marginalization of native peoples can increase as well. Decades of resort-based tourism and cruise liners shuttling Westerns throughout the Caribbean offer proof that the promises from international organizations of modernization and local jobs come with a hidden price tag. Droves of middle- and upper-class Westerners flock en masse to these resort destinations, bringing with them negative externalities that extend far beyond fiscal woes: disenfranchised local businesses and a society segregated along a series of borders and hinges. Advocates and activists in Jamaica and its neighboring countries have long cautioned against this particular brand of tourism. V.S. Naipaul, a noted Caribbean writer, has gone so far as to call it a ‘new slavery’ (Gibson, 2014, p.340). Across the Caribbean, countries are facing similar struggles brought about by the rise of luxury resorts and the particular brand of tourism these resorts market. The islands too often lack the

national agency or will to implement policies that regulate the sort of unchecked development created as a result of the current tourism paradigm. Furthermore, CARICOM, the regional planning organization in the Caribbean, has not been able to effect plans that address the externalities of the industry. As economic growth and development in the region are closely linked to the tourist industry – tourism brought $850 million to the region in 2000 – Caribbean countries often seem to be competing against each other to attract the newest resort, port, or crowd of holidaymakers (Gibson, 2014, p.342). For the most part, this competition has not bred innovation; rather it seems to create a race to the bottom, draining communities of resources in efforts to lure the largest resort developments, amplifying a stagnant form of tourism. Without the necessary leadership, island nations struggle to prevent the erosion of delicate cultural and natural systems. As islands invest in the false promises of a bright future through mass tourism, one is left to question the effectiveness of economic growth when the capacity to create a sustainable, equitable future is missing.

109

AGORA 9

110

davis

In the eyes of tourists and developers, Jamaica, with its famous cultural icons and several hundred miles of development-worthy beachfront, stands apart from its island neighbors. And Montego Bay, on the northwestern coast, offers some of the best luxury resort destinations on the island.

a di c h ot omy of cult ure s

Half Moon Resort, an all-inclusive destination and one of the oldest resorts in Montego Bay, offers an escape to paradise for those who can afford the high price tag. Walls extending into the ocean and guarded gates enclose these private resorts, creating a hard border that divides two different Jamaicas.

Resort culture has rapidly altered the Caribbean landscape. Public beaches have always provided a market for local businesses, but in recent years, the effects of unbridled resort development and private beaches have harmed beach communities such as this one. Jacob Taylor Beach, once a

successful fishing town with small shops and food stops, has experienced economic decline following nearby private development. The construction of a wall divides the existing community from the newcomers, with each side representing two disparate ways of life.

111

AGORA 9

112

davis

In contrast to the authentic public beaches, resorts offer duty-free shopping villages selling massproduced Jamaican culture and restaurants cooking foods imported for American and European palates. Resort tourism is breeding a neocolonialism in which Jamaica, along with

a di c h ot omy of cult ure s

other countries, exports agriculture it does not consume or process and imports foods it does not grow (McCook, 1996). And locals will tell you that the increase of resorts in Montego Bay forced many well-established restaurants and businesses to close.

Tourism has been marketed as a catalyst to help move countries like Jamaica into the 21st century, but this modernization appears to be selectively dispersed. The nature of the development of these resort destinations creates a polarizing

spatial fabric in the coastal communities of Jamaica â&#x20AC;&#x201C; a checkerboard of haves and havenots. This separation of people by socio-economic backgrounds, statuses, races, and experiences seems to further segregate society.

113

AGORA 9

114

davis

To remain competitive with Caribbean neighbors, countries offer financial incentives to attract foreign investment and travelers. Duty-free shopping is offered in the resorts as one such incentive, but decades of not collecting sales taxes have taken their toll on the host countries. Since foreign companies own many of these resorts, the

a di c h ot omy of cult ure s

World Bank estimates that as much as 80 percent of tourism revenue does not stay in the country (Gibson, 2014, p.344). Despite the long-term negative effects and cultural and economic malaise, these countries have become dependent on the jobs the tourist industry creates.

The duty-free shopping may be alluring to tourists, but the reality of Jamaica not receiving taxes from resort business takes shape in degrading public services. As bus stations and roads deteriorate, access to local communities decreases, further reducing local business consumption and sales tax

revenue. The negative symptoms of foreign-owned resorts and duty-free shopping seem to outweigh the national benefits of Jamaicaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s resort culture, suggesting that a reevaluation of regional planning efforts may be in order.

115

AGORA 9

R ef er e n c e s Gibson, Carrie. (2014). Empireâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s crossroads: A history of the Caribbean from Columbus to the present day. New York: Atlantic Monthly Press. McCook, Stuart. (1996). H-Net Reviews. Retrieved from http://www.h-net.org/reviews/showrev.php?id=654

116

davis

a di c h ot omy of cult ure s

Samantha Farr “Haji Ali Sea Face” Mumbai, India

diviD Divided Cities A YROMEM MEMORY AND IDENTITY M d r a M a s i r a P Parisa Mard Mehdiabadi c e t i h c r A f o s r e t s a M Master of Architecture, 2015

Divided cities present an intriguing phenomenology in urban design where political and/or cultural circumstances lead to a schism in an otherwise holistic city. The consequence of such division is not only physically present, but also has a long lasting impression on communal and individual identity. This impact is further emphasized by local architecture and how the border is treated in each side of a division. This article uses the island city of Nicosia, Cyprus, located in the Mediterranean, as a case study to better understand how borders in divided cities relate to memory and identity establishment.

rchitecture is entangled in a web of political, social, cultural, and economic powers. As a spatial practice, architecture has the capacity to reallocate cultural powers and to constructively contribute to social change. In divided cities, however, architecture is misused as an ultimate method of containing and managing intercommunal tensions. Giving physical form to fear and misunderstanding, these constructs only sustain and exacerbate long-standing problems, since “physical partition often affirms local assumptions about persecution and encourages one ethnic community to antagonize another” (Calame, 2009, p. 5). Division of the urban fabric destroys the essence of place, hinders communal identity and sustains distrust as competing groups manipulate images of the city and historical past for their own benefit. Intercommunal tension cannot and should not be addressed by erecting of walls, fences, and no man’s lands, but rather through open dialogue and exchange. Although divided cities are not prevalent in urban history, they represent the power of architecture as a cultural agency and demonstrate how, if misused, they can lead to urban dysfunction and permanent division. Historically, the purpose of city fortification has been twofold: to provide passive security against external threats and to inhibit the social assimilation that usually accompanies a dense and cooperative urban environment. Although creating a wall around a city helps with the physical definition of a community, it also has the power to divide because it draws a distinction between those within and outside of the city. As Lewis Mumford noted, “physical barricades have historically provided a functional separation between civilized and uncivilized domains for resident communities” (Mumford, 1960, p. 54). The city boundary emphasizes social hierarchy and sustains prejudice and mistrust among community members.

Similar to city walls, permanent or temporary partitions in divided cities are constructed out of fear and distrust among different ethnic and/ or social groups. In the case of Cyprus, the Green Line is a de facto international boundary between the self-proclaimed but unrecognized Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus and the Greekspeaking Cypriots in the south. The partition line is about ten kilometers long and varies in width between twenty meters and four meters as it runs through the urban and suburban terrain.

“We are destined to get worse, not better, for as long as there is the concept of fear and siege. So if fear is, at the core, the most dangerous emotion… then remove the fear. Now, how do you do that? Is it done by walls? Is it done by education? Is it done by being inventive about how you share the land? I’m not sure that I have any of the answers – plenty of the questions.” -David Ervine, former Member of the Legislative Assembly, Belfast, 2001 As cities reflect local demographics in spatial form, each city can be perceived on a continuum between perfect spatial integration and complete segregation. As an example of a divided city, Nicosia, capital of Cyprus, reflects total spatial segregation between its two ethnic groups. Intercommunal rivalry in Nicosia frayed the normal urban functioning, resulting in a complete schism along its east-west ethnic fault-line. The Green Line has been a physical manifestation of a long and violent ethnic rivalry between the Turkish-speaking Cypriots in the north and the Greek-speaking Cypriots in the south. To understand the effects of partitioning on individual and collective identity in Nicosia, it is necessary to first unpack its complex history and evolution as an urban city.

119

AGORA 9

B ac kg r ou nd on Ni c os i a Historically Cyprus was composed of two major ethnic groups: the Greek- and Turkish-speaking Cypriots. Although these two groups coexisted with tolerance and unity at the beginning, over time political events led to conflict and an eventual schism between the Turkish-speaking and Greek-speaking Cypriots. Following the Ottoman Empire’s acquisition of Cyprus in 1571, the ethnic and cultural schism became increasingly apparent. The Ottoman’s millet system favored Muslim minority groups, resulting in institutionalization of ethnic segregation. Consequently, the Turkish-speaking residents settled primarily in the northern part of Nicosia, while the Greek-speaking congregated in the south. The social and commercial activities, however, remained open and active between the two ethnic groups in the city’s central zone. British occupation in 1878 further emphasized the ethnic segregation by swaying the political authority to church leaders. In 1914, Britain consolidated its hold over the former Ottoman Empire. Following World War I, Cyprus became an annexed colony of Britain and eventually a Crown colony in 1925.

120

mehdiabadi

Hoping for independence, more than 37,000 Greekand Turkish-speaking Cypriots volunteered to serve in various British armed forces during World War II. Although many colonies were able to gain independence post-war, Cyprus remained a British colony due to its strategic location in the Middle East (Mallinson, 2005, p. 11). In order to legitimize and ensure their permanent presence in Cyprus, the British colonial authorities enforced policies that formalized ethnic divisions and accelerated inter-ethnic rivalries. These external influences “tended to disrupt the natural evolution of selfdetermination and the emergence of an inclusive

divide d cit ie s

national identity, aggravating latent antagonisms between the Greek- and Turkish-speaking Cypriots” (Calame 2009, p. 127). Persistent interethnic rivalry lasted from 1950 until 1975, leading to destabilization and destruction of the Cypriots’ natural affinity for tolerance. Simultaneously, the Greek-Cypriots campaigned for enosis (union with Greece) as a movement against British colonialism. As anticolonial violence directed at police was sometimes indistinguishable from inter-ethnic violence, tension between the two ethnic groups escalated (Calame, 2009, p. 128). In May 1956, the British military installed barbed-wire fencing and checkpoints in order to prevent Turkish-Greek confrontation, but this division only aggravated the two communities (Holland, 1998, p. 66). This division, informally known as the Mason-Dixon Line, was placed east-west through the center of the old city and the original path of the Pedieos River. In June 1958, the British Prime Minister Harold Macmillan proposed the bifurcation of political institutions for Turkish- and Greekspeaking residents. In February 1959, recognizing that a shared desire to achieve independence from Britain overshadowed their differences, Greek- and Turkish-speaking Cypriot politicians signed the London and Zurich agreement, which concluded the ethnic rivalry and established Cyprus as a sovereign nation. This desperate act of independence proved to be premature and short-lived as the newly formulated constitution institutionalized ethnic rivalries within its rigid quotas. The new quotas “adopted a democratic framework for national government without having first achieved national integration” (Calame, 2009, p. 131). Chaotic conditions and persistent violence prompted the British soldiers to install temporary physical barricades along the Mason-Dixon line. In December 1963, the

partition was formalized as “the Green Line,” which constituted a double-layered partition line between Greek- and Turkish-speaking Cypriots with a substantial no man’s land in between. Although the purpose of the Green Line was to temporarily halt hostilities and maintain a ceasefire pending future negotiation, this division remained an “unremitting obstacle to progress toward normalization in Cyprus more than forty years later” (Harbottle, 1970, p. 66-68). In March 1964, further fortification was installed when United Nations peacemakers monitored the ceasefire and took control of sensitive boundary areas. As a result, Greek-speaking Cypriots in the north and Turkish-speaking Cypriots in the south abandoned their homes to seek the security of a friendly enclave. In most cases, this meant crossing the Green Line and leaving their property behind. Unfortunately, the partitioning process further encouraged animosity and segregation between the two communities. Turkey and Greece, concerned about the security of their citizens in Cyprus, took military action to protect and maintain the divide. The Turkish military took control of 37 percent of the island on July 22nd 1974. Fearing persecution, hundreds of thousands of Cypriots were displaced, leading to an almost near-perfect ethnic homogeneity of northern and southern parts of the island. According to the 1960 census, “about 40,000 Turkish-speaking Cypriots lived south of the future boundary, and approximately 200,000 Greek-speaking Cypriots north of it: by 1975 fewer than a hundred members of these statistical categories remained. Most of the nearly 250,000 refugees participating in this demographic reengineering exercise—about 40 percent of the pre-partition population of Cyprus as a whole—received no compensation for loss of their possessions, houses, and jobs” (Bakshi, 2014, p. 141). The prospect of European Union membership for Cyprus and several

Republic of Northern Cyprus (Turkish) Nicosia

Republic of Cyprus (Greek) Greece

Mediterranean Sea 0

Turkey

Cyprus

20 miles

Figure 1 Location of Cyprus in the Middle East and its proximity to Turkey and Greece; the Green Line runs through the historic city center dividing Nicosia into two.

comprehensive settlement plans by Kofi Annan (former UN secretary general) in 2004 proved futile. Sixty-four percent of Turkish Cypriot voters endorsed the reunification plan, but more than 75 percent of Greek-speaking Cypriot voters rejected it (Calame, 2009, p. 139).

Pa r t it io ning E f f e ct s The partitioning effect on Cyprus has been significant not only in terms of lives lost, but also the number of families that were forced to relocate from the mixed regions of Nicosia. More than 600 Greek-speaking Cypriot families had to abandon their homes following widespread hostility and intimidation. Continuous violence had a great impact on levels of stress, anxiety and trauma for individuals and communities. Political settlement was further complicated by the fact that each group refused to acknowledge the losses of the other. As Yiannis Papadakis warned, “if we still see ourselves as victims and do not acknowledge the pain of others, it would be very scary—we

121

AGORA 9

have both been aggressors” (Papadakis, 2002). Ignorance and continuous rejection of the other group’s suffering perpetuated animosity and conflict between the Greek- and Turkish-speaking Cypriots. The partitioning effect was not only expensive in its construction for both parties, but also left lasting psychological and emotional scars that have healed very slowly over the past 40 years.

122

mehdiabadi

The partitioning process in Cyprus was most disruptive in how it affected the physical fabric of Nicosia. The city division led to demoralization of residents and inefficiency as many public amenities were duplicated across the divide. Nicosia’s historic center, previously known for its vibrancy and cooperation, was turned into a no man’s land (Calame, 2009, p. 141). The Green Line eroded the urban market, which had been at the heart of Nicosia, leading to job loss and displacement of a large segment of the workforce. In addition, Cyprus’s economy, which relied on agriculture and tourism, suffered significantly due to political and economic instability (Calame, 2009, p. 142). Given Nicosia’s division, many institutions, facilities, and services had to be duplicated - a process that was costly, hasty, and redundant. Economic, social, and academic bifurcation in Nicosia led to a period of stagnation and perpetuated ethnic animosity. The biased academic system that was established on each side of the divide further propagated bigotry, resulting in a new generation of Cypriots that were engrossed in ethnic prejudice (Calame, 2009, p. 141). Greek- and Turkish-speaking Cypriots created national narratives that omitted or exaggerated certain events in support of each community’s interests. The national narrative was then propagated in schools, persisting in communities and affecting the new generation’s perception of the past while distorting the older generations’ memories.

divide d cit ie s

My t hma k ing a nd Me mo ry Co ns t r uct io n Nicosia is just one example of a divided city where memories are distorted, bigotry propagated, and new myths constructed to support a particularly biased version of history. In such cities, representations of the past are often selective and distorted. In contested sites marked by power struggles, myth and storytelling are used to make rightful ownership claims over a particular place. As a result, “other groups currently residing there are seen as recent arrivals or as having an insignificant presence” (Bakshi, 2013, p. 199). National narratives are constructed in order to validate the community’s presence. Explaining the connection between contested sites and myth making, Bakashi notes: “cities are often central to ethnonational conflicts, where tailored myths and memories are used to lay claim to the rightful ownership of certain sites. In this context, spatial practices that harness memory become a critical part of a purposive reconstruction of the past” (Bakshi, 2013, p. 189). Events and time frames that do not support the national narration are simply forgotten or ignored, while favorable events are embellished and proclaimed. Storytelling is a powerful tool in communicating past knowledge and creating a strong sense of heritage and history. Cities that are partitioned as a result of conflict often use storytelling to skew past events in their own favor. Images of cities or physical places can be manipulated to support national narration. The same place within a city can be perceived differently depending on one’s associated memories. Physical spaces related to painful memories can be destroyed, while others are celebrated and left as monuments to a heroic past; “the physical body of the city is embellished with memories that correspond to what is officially

remembered or forgotten” (Bakshi, 2013, p. 202). Destruction or construction of certain buildings can be used as a technique to manipulate or reformulate society’s memories. As a result, “official policies of erasure are executed through the destruction of buildings, and transmitted memories continue to influence individuals’ use of the city” (Bakshi, 2014, p. 189). In Nicosia, the selective remembering and forgetting of historical events resulted in two divergent myths about the historic walled city center, a space that was shared between the two ethnic groups in the past. These myths were deeply embedded into individuals’ memories and were propagated through the academic systems. As a result, the historic recollections of the past events have different key dates. Greek-speaking Cypriots’ recollection of history overlooks the intercommunal violence that occurred between 1963 and 1974 and instead remembers the period of unification and peace between the ethnic groups (Papadakis, 2005). The school history books similarly overlook the 1963-1974 intercommunal violence, while stressing the Greek Cypriots’ violence, strife, and displacement following the 1974 Turkish occupation. In contrast, the Turkish-speaking Cypriots stress the period of war in 1963 as a dark time when many were forced to leave their villages to settle in the north under Turkish protection. Turkishspeaking Cypriots celebrate the 1974 Turkish intervention, which marks the founding of their ‘homeland’ (Papadakis, 2005, p. 149). These opposing narrations of Nicosia’s past illustrate the prejudices and selective memories of these two populations. The nostalgic utopias are linked to the periods that align with each community’s official memory discourses. Elements that do not fit into these narratives are simply left out of these imaginative constructions.

Myths also represent social and cultural values. Values represented in northern and southern Cypriot’s narration have a significant presence in Nicosia’s material reality and the way these two communities deal with the partition wall. Turkish-Cypriots’ desire to forget the time when they shared the land with the Greek-Cypriots resulted in the erasure and renaming of all street and place names. The change in mentality of living in exile versus a homeland has manifested itself in the way that the Turkish-Cypriots perceive

Division of the urban fabric destroys the essence of place, hinders communal identity, and sustains distrust as competing groups manipulate images of the city and historical past for their own benefit. the Green Line. They consequently view the partition as a permanent international border with solid concrete walls and checkpoints. The Greek-Cypriots approach the partition rather differently. They view the buffer zone as a temporary divide, a makeshift construction and blockage that would be easy to dismantle (Bakshi, 2014, p. 201). Mythmaking is a spatial practice that functions beyond the fictional space. As Wortham noted, “place has an indeterminacy and creative potential that can be seized or taken advantage of, and prompted instead of swept away or denied” (Wortham, 2008, p. 39). Designers and architects can accordingly utilize the potential of myth-making to inform design decisions in both architectural and urban scale.

123

Places are both real and imagined, based on mental association, as well as physical form and character. As a result, designers and planners

AGORA 9

igure 2 Makeshift construction of a northern border by the Greek-Cypriots versus permanent materiality of a southern border created by the Turkish-Cypriots.

124

mehdiabadi

have as significant a role in imagined constructs of narratives, associations, and rituals as they do in the creation and destruction of physical spaces (Wortham, 2008, p. 32). The lack of diplomatic reconciliations could be attributed in part to officials’ inability to understand the extent of influence that such imaginary and exaggerated narratives have had in sustaining the animosity between the Greek- and Turkishspeaking Cypriots. Myth is often associated with falsehood and fiction, carrying “a dismissive, pejorative connotation. However, as a complex cultural process mythology can be utilized as a method of stewarding and engaging design of

divide d cit ie s

change” (Wortham, 2008, p. 38). By understanding the role of myth as a social construct, designers and negotiators can utilize the imaginative and physical reality of Nicosia in bringing healing and eventually harmony to the region.

Id e nt it y F o r mat io n in t he Ur ba n S e t t ing Cities provide a stable platform for individual and collective identity formation. The city, as a “confluence of the complexity and density of human experience, is a framework for memories that are often collective, involving public life,

social interaction and group identities” (Becherer, 1984; Boyer, 1994). The perceived stability of space in urban cities, or ‘enduringness of materials’ based on Paul Ricoeur’s ideology, allows for retrieval of the past in the present through the conduit of the built environment (Halbwachs, 1992, p. 57). Cities support and frame memories as they provide linkages between the past, present, and future through architecture and physical forms. Places, as they are seen and experienced today, support and create memories, while allowing access to images of the place in the past. Places may have been destroyed, reassembled, or reconstructed to project certain meanings, yet these same places still maintain potential as points of connection to other histories, retaining traces and material evidence of a past that may not coincide with official or objective documentations (Jordan, 2006, p. 25). Identity formation is based on the culmination of experiences and events throughout one’s lifetime. A person’s or community’s past provides a datum for evaluating one’s sense of self and identity. As mentioned above, one’s sense of the past may extend as far back as one’s birth or it may include previous generations and heredity. Linkage to the past strengthens one’s sense of identity through recollection of memories and events. Place memories offer a unique opportunity, as the history of places and buildings often surpasses one’s lifespan: “place-based memories can offer people a link to the past and connections to a sense of identity—one which may differ from national identity” (Till, 2005, p. 32). In addition to fortifying one’s identity, place can reinforce a sense of belonging and affiliation.

Sel e c t i v e M e mory The city uses the built form as it witnesses and records collective memory. Place memory, however, can be manipulated through processes of erasure or emphasis. Anita Bakshi’s 2010-2011

interviews of English-, Greek-, and Turkishspeaking Cypriot shopkeepers reveal the selective recollection of memory in Nicosia before and after the partition. The interviewees all lived or worked in the walled city between the 1940 and 1970s, and many still maintain businesses in the currently bifurcated city center. Although these individuals experienced the same past, their memories of the Greek- and Turkish-speaking Cypriots’ differ significantly. One Greek-Cypriot shopkeeper remembered serving Turkish customers, but did not recall the presence of the Green Line in 1963. His earliest recollection of the division was in 1974, when the Turks invaded Cyprus. Many of the Greek-Cypriots denied intercommunal violence or any problems whatsoever between the two groups and repeated the national narration that violence began only after the Turkish invasion. The Turkish-speaking Cypriots similarly recalled trading with Greek-speaking Cypriots, but their memories differed in reference to ‘normal times’ or the times before the conflict. Turkish shopkeepers’ recollections dated as early as 1955 or 1963. Their memories related to the time before intercommunal conflict were rather limited. However, when certain images of buildings were shown to the Turkish-speaking shopkeepers,

Destroying the physical barrier and providing space for open dialogue can subvert false historical narratives history and encourage communal healing. they were able to recall spending time in certain mixed areas 1963, when the official narrative began. These selective memories can be attributed to the fact that “memories related to place in contested environments are heavily influenced by official constructions of the historic narrative and mythologies of place which filter down

125

AGORA 9

into individual memories” (Bakshi 2014, p. 203). Shopkeepers’ recollections closely followed the national narrative, illustrating the strong influence of national myths in “forgetting of entire sets of memories that fall before the origin point of national memory, leaving afloat and inaccessible the remembered city that corresponds to that time” (Bakshi 2013, p. 203). Photographs and visual material related to the everyday reality of place, however, allowed people to pull blocked memories into the forefront.

C o n c l u s i on In the case of Nicosia, the Green Line has become a physical manifestation of distrust, impeding the nation’s ability to heal and unify. According to the work of de Certeau, places are continuously constructed and reconstructed through everyday actions. As de Certeau noted, “places are the warehouses of memory, always haunted with myriad of possibilities for meaning and behavior” (de Certeau, 1985, p. 131). As disciplinary power in space becomes more totalizing, it also becomes prone to subversion. Through the dialectics of strategies and tactics, mediations of power can be reversed and meanings inverted. Architecture as a spatial practice can re-calibrate power in a community. Destroying the physical barrier

and providing space for open dialogue can subvert false historical narratives and encourage communal healing. Large institutions, social groups, nations, and governments do not have a memory but are able to create one through the manipulation or collection of images, texts, symbols, places, and ceremonies (Assmann 2010, p. 55). Urban myths are used to restructure urban landscapes in the national imagination, and to lend support to official historical narratives. In addition, these narratives are instrumental in informing major urban design, regeneration, and reconstruction projects that emphasize or support the national myth (Bakshi 2014, p. 197). In the case of Nicosia, physical spaces, like historical memories, are erased or manipulated to support the community’s version of history. These narratives, which are passed down over generations, contribute to the individual and collective identity formation. Given the perceived stability of place, urban architecture has the capacity to maintain and store multiple times in one location. In divided cities where the urban fabric is significantly transformed, memory can provide access to what is no longer present. Places that are still standing, however, can recount history in a more subjective manner. As a result, place and architecture become invaluable tools in tapping into and understanding hidden or forgotten histories.

R ef er e n c e s Assmann, A. 2008. “Transformations between history and memory.” Social Research 75 (1): 49–72.Bakshi, Anita. 2013. “A shell of memory: The Cyprus conflict and Nicosia’s walled city.” Memory Studies 5 (4): 477–94.

126

Bakshi, A. 2014. urban form and memory discourses: Spatial practices in contested cities, Journal of Urban Design, 19:2, 189-210, DOI: 10.1080/13574809.2013.854696 Calame, J, and Esther Ruth Charlesworth. 2009. Divided cities: Belfast, Beirut, Jerusalem, Mostar, and Nicosia. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Dovey, K. 1999. Framing places mediating power in built form. London: Routledge. 45-58.

mehdiabadi

divide d cit ie s

Halbwachs, M., & Coser, L. (1992). On collective memory. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Harbottle, M. (1970). The impartial soldier. London: Oxford University Press. Heynen, Hilde. 1999. Architecture and modernity a critique. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press. Holland, R. F. (1998). Britain and revolt in Cyprus, 1954- 1959. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Mallinson, W. (2005). Cyprus: A modern history. New York: I.B. Taurus. Mumford, L. (1960). The culture of cities. New York: Harcourt Brace. (1961).

127

John Monnat “Football Alto” Quito, AGORA 9 Ecuador

128

mehdiabadi divide cit ieDarkâ&#x20AC;? s Cory Heck â&#x20AC;&#x153;Light ind the Detroit, Michigan

DIVISIONS: What will we do?

129

AGORA 9

130

131

AGORA 9

Additional content, including blog posts, past volumes, the latest news, and more from the Agora Journal of Urban Planning + Design is available online at: