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Revitalization: Newark's Tale of Two
Cities ...continued
By Navdeep Mathur
It
is important to note precisely why "renaissance" is not a
term many who live in Newark would use to describe their lived
experience here. In spite of the many economic development
projects worth billions of dollars in investment that have
occurred in Newark since the early 1980s, the structure of
new opportunities created has tended to exclude the average
Newarker. For example, the 2000 census counted Newark as one
of the top 10 racially and economically segregated cities
by neighborhood.
In spite of massive reform efforts over a period of decades,
the quality of education and schooling has yet to improve
by all accounts. Newark continues to have one of the highest
rates of infant mortality in the country (13.2 percent), despite
a 5 percent fall from 1990, giving it an infant mortality
rate more than double that of New Jersey as a whole.
Zero Population Growth's Kids Friendly Cities Report Card
ranked Newark as one of the worst cities for children (136th
out of 140 cities). In 2001 the Association for Children of
New Jersey found that one of every three Newark children live
in poverty, at risk of hunger and chronic illness, and each
month 123 Newark children under age 19 contract a sexually
transmitted disease and over 76 children are admitted to the
hospital with asthma. In spite of a nine percent increase
in vaccination coverage of 2 year olds from 1996 to 1999,
Newark remains among the lowest jurisdictions in vaccination
coverage.
Newark's unemployment rate is still almost double the national
average at 10.7 percent, and school enrollment is dismal.
These statistics find parallels nowhere so much as in Third
World countries.
How did Newark get to this state of affairs? In the mid-1800s,
Newark was a thriving industrial town that exported its manufactured
goods to Southern towns. Its leading industries were the manufacture
of carriages, shoes, hats and saddlery hardware, tanning and
soap factories, iron and brass foundries and malleable iron
foundries. Carriage manufacture made it a significant contributor
to the transportation industry.
The factory system resulted in significant increases in
Newark's population. As real estate values climbed and housing
became scarce, the living conditions of the common folk deteriorated.
The laboring poor were huddled together in crowded quarters
above factories or were squeezed into the fringes of town.
The low lying fringe by the Passaic bay and the Newark bay
was malaria infested. This area, first known as down-neck
and then as the Ironbound, was home to Newark's poorest immigrant
settlers. At this time it was known as the "Nation's Most
Unhealthiest City". The city did not enforce even minimal
environmental ordinances. The housing that was built was substandard
and near polluting industry. There were 10,000 cesspools that
caused untold disease, sickness and death.
While the pre-World War II period brought a population boom
to the city, unemployment grew rapidly leading up to the depression.
Newark had already become the center of the electrical and
chemical industries, as well as of the insurance and banking
industry. In the early 1920s Newark witnessed a building boom
that included skyscraper office buildings, department stores,
theaters, and churches which entirely transformed the skyline
in a few short years. What is striking about Newark at this
period is the optimism of its ruling classes, who pushed economic,
civic and social development in the city. This attitude became
known as "boosterism."
World War II brought economic recovery to Newark but without
the pre-depression optimist and boosterism. Instead, a compulsive
pessimism and spirit of renewed retrenchment and civic retreat
on the part of the city's business elite tempered the new
prosperity. In 1940, the Newark Chamber of Commerce placed
a moratorium on all non-defense public works. The Chamber
of Commerce restricted private funds to pay for municipal
expenditures, and created disincentives for further growth
in Newark, only to shift these resources out to the rapidly
growing suburbs.
By 1940 the flight to the suburbs of the economically better-off
elements of Newark's society was well under way. The suburbs
afforded a higher level of services, an economically and racially
segregated living environment that was much sought after by
the city's elite. They sought to escape the problems of crowding
in the cities and the growing population of blacks who came
to look for jobs in the factories, as well as other groups
such as Catholics and Jews.
The subsequent outward movement of factories and retail
from Newark coincided with their relocation in suburban industrial
complexes, and separate retail malls. This trend was also
seen in the outward movement of the financial industry, as
well as a large proportion of the insurance sector. This marked
the beginning of "benign" neglect of Newark's increasingly
black and brown population, and deepening problems for civic/business
groups as well as state and federal agencies.
Zoning for the city was adopted in 1920, yet this regulatory
feature had little impact on the housing shortage, conditions
and residential planning. Instead, the city responded to the
housing shortage by providing tents. City taxes as well as
the cost of maintaining government rose tremendously. This
response of the city is symptomatic of the dichotomy of the
two Newarks, a trend that is still prevalent in Newark today,
and one that seems to have been embraced under the James administration
judging by the dichotomous approach to development in the
last 16 years.
Newark historically allowed polluting industries to coexist
in proximity to residential neighborhoods. Leather goods and
tanning, paint and varnish manufacturing, and brewing caused
enormous pollution problems. Industrial pollution increased
in the 20th century due to the complexity and size of chemical
plants. The Passaic River eventually made it to the U.S. Environmental
Protection Agency's list of the most endangered waterways
in the nation, owing to cancer-causing dioxins produced as
a by-product of the pesticide plants which released these
wastes directly into the river.
The Federal Housing Administration (FHA) and the Home Owners
Loan Corporation (HOLC) also initiated their formal policies
of redlining Newark (along with other cities). In 1939, not
a single neighborhood was given an A rating. Even supposedly
high-class neighborhoods like Weequahic Park, Clinton Hill,
Vailsburg and Forest Hill received a B rating. Other attractive
neighborhoods like Roseville, Woodside, East Vailsburg received
a C rating. The remainder of the city including the Ironbound
as well as every black neighborhood was rated as hazardous.
FHA commitments in Essex County simply went to the suburbs.
Appraisals made by governmental agencies of Newark's residential
neighborhoods also influenced the appraisal decisions of the
private banking industry and further caused damage to Newark.
This meant that it was impossible to secure ordinary loans
for residential properties. In addition, federal tax policies
allowing mortgage interest deductions and transportation policies
favoring individual automobile use further contributed to
the outward movement of population from Newark. To this day,
Newark suffers from this past stigmatization. If not for non-profit
involvement in new housing and improvement efforts, the amelioration
of the past few decades would not have been seen.
Compounding Newark's ills was a long tradition of government
incompetence and corruption. Louis Danzig, the long-time director
of the Newark Redevelopment and Housing Authority is credited
with pushing some of the worst urban renewal programs in history.
His stated justification for destroying neighborhoods, including
those that were healthy and vibrant, was "modernization."
Echoes of this "modernization" mantra can be heard today in
the new housing being built described as "moving Newark into
the 21st century."
A massive public relations campaign over the last few years
has virtually reinvented Newark as a metaphor of urban renewal.
This cheerleading discourse of civic boosters in Newark tends
to undermine the political importance of discussing its social
conditions in the public arena.
One
example of this reticence to confront important social issues
is the fact that in the face of possible large future investment
projects like the Nets/Devils Arena, there may be a huge displacement
of population and businesses that do not find explicit accommodation
in the economics of market penetration symbolized by the "new
tourism business."
Similar displacements in the past have led to increased
pressures on social services at the most basic level: public
housing and resettlement costs, homelessness and crime, and
increased frustration with the political establishment. This
was the case with the establishment of the University of Medicine
and Dentistry of New Jersey and the land cleared for the Rutgers
and New Jersey Institute of Technology complexes. There was
no explicit resettlement option that was deliberated as an
independent portion of a new zoning or land-use plan or any
social impact analysis.
To emphasize the historical context so far, is to specifically
state that Newark never had a "heyday." This phantom heyday's
reinvention in the rhetoric of "renaissance" attempts to create
an altogether new city, leaving indeterminate how Newark will
actually accommodate its different cities under the Renaissance
City tent.
In the past, the city was judged primarily on the basis
of its downtown. There has always been a somewhat bustling
downtown with big stores and shops, wealthy merchants, the
museum and the library, along with an unbreachable gap between
the downtown and the neighborhoods, co-existing with deep
resentment and antipathy towards African-Americans and new
immigrants.
Large industrialists, city officials, bankers and urban
reformers through rhetoric and image building have contrived
to maintain an attractive image based on the downtown. However,
as a result of the disconnect between the downtown and the
neighborhoods, the latter gradually declined with no improvement
in housing infrastructure to accommodate new immigrants or
provide new jobs. Neighborhood businesses suffered also.
The riots of 1967 were set in a context of extreme social
and racial exclusion and oppression, where a decade-long struggle
organized by blacks to win representation in, if not control
of, the municipal government, board of education, and police
among other civic institutions culminated in violence. At
the time Newark was also characterized by some of the worst
levels of poverty, infant mortality, crime, venereal disease,
poor housing, and racial antipathy in the nation.
After the riots neighborhoods decayed, white flight that
started with the suburbanization of America in the 1940s quickened,
and the gap between the neighborhoods and downtown continued
to widen even further. The political economy was characterized
by corruption, although the proportion of representation changed
to reflect Black and later Hispanic interests. The system
of spoils and corruption continued, however, and social mobilization
all but died. Government remained isolated from the residents
of the city, while creating investment incentives for large
downtown office buildings. As a result, non-profit establishment
efforts were the vehicle for social development in the neighborhoods,
as well as for constructing an alternate discourse of development
based on creating social opportunity, development of skills,
provision of affordable and decent housing and community empowerment.
In all the current economic development and revitalization
policy discourse, the race issue has been conspicuously absent.
The language of "revitalization" constructs an urban space
upon neglected deeper social cleavages, attempting to garner
consensus on a "group-free" basis. The argument is put forward
that development will help everybody alike regardless of race
or ethnicity.
Similar arguments were put forward when the Newark Central
Planning Board released its renewal policies as a Master Plan
in 1947. While this plan documented the fast decline of dwellings
in Newark, lack of plumbing, electrical wiring, and health
and sanitation conditions, city officials showed insensitivity
to those problems and went ahead with plans focused on retail,
parking and new business development. Since the portion of
the population living under these substandard conditions was
largely poor and black, this illustrates the argument that
Newark had a history of racist policy-making prior to the
election of Ken Gibson as Newark's first black mayor in 1970.
The policy history of revitalization in Newark suggests
that every major effort to construct new policy solutions
ignored black identity formation and allegations of continued
discrimination. The discourses surrounding new policies ever
since the riots conveniently camouflaged racism in policy
development as past policy failures.
The riots that occurred in July 1967 were said to be the
culmination of racism, progressive disenfranchisement and
the extreme exclusion that followed. Demands for black appointments
(and more qualified ones) to the Board of Education, and rethinking
the construction site of the University of Medicine (now UMDNJ)
were met with rejection. Long-term demands of greater political
representation, better living conditions and better health
care were only met with plans to improve business opportunities.
There was no direct effort to meet any black demands even
though the knowledge about the black community's rapidly deteriorating
living conditions existed and was discussed behind closed
doors at the Chamber of Commerce, municipal government and
a little more openly in the media.
The New Community Corporation led by Msgr. William Linder
was among a few neighborhood groups that attempted to rebuild
lost homes, stores and provide a safe haven for citizens in
the aftermath of the riots. It is currently the largest community
development non-profit corporation in the United States that
is involved in the provision of housing. In addition, it also
built schools, provided employment skills training, transportation
and retail establishments over the years in Newark.
The repeated effort to keep Newark's "blackness" out of
the limelight is indicative of the social attitudes and values
that permeated policy-making and civil administration in general.
For civic boosters, the perception of Newark's "blackness"
and its deprivation were seen as a major obstacle for attraction
of new business development. As a consequence, attention was
diverted towards Newark's proximity to New York City, its
fantastic transportation network, and its rich cultural past.
Revitalization policy-making today follows a very similar
trajectory of "positive image-building" and advertising. While
Newark's arts infrastructure, transportation facilities, proximity
to New York City, and touristic potential are highlighted,
there is no mention of actual living conditions in its neighborhoods
for mostly working-class and poor black, and now also Hispanic,
residents.
The massive investments in the downtown area of the central
ward helped to isolate an island in Newark where policy successes
could be pointed to. This discourse excludes the deprivation
and substandard living conditions, poor quality of schools
and decaying neighborhoods where most of Newark's residents
live.
In almost every decade in Newark, city government has produced
promotional policy texts touting Newark's strengths to outside
investors in the hopes of revitalizing it. These policy documents
were produced usually by a consulting firm that was specifically
hired to assess Newark's assets against its weaknesses, and
in addition, either by contract mandate or on their own, have
studied residents' perceptions about the development needs
and direction of social goals for Newark.
The recommendations that are made attempt to reflect a balance
between market-oriented development that will focus solely
on infrastructure development, and human development that
is conceptualized as existing outside the bounds of market
oriented economic development. This human development has
been conceptualized as improved quality of schools, health-care,
public safety, and job opportunity, enabling upward social
mobility, and availability of financial opportunities to local
entrepreneurs as a first step in being integrated in market
oriented ventures.
However,
the city's boosters would select the corporate and business
development recommendations for framing their rhetoric about
Newark's potential and leave out the recommendations that
specifically focused on resident's needs. They claimed that
the city would only be able to get the resources for focusing
on neighborhood development through the economic benefits
that would one day accrue from business development.
The priority was very clear: business development and market
integration. There would be no explicit attempt by government
to organize residents in order that they could participate
in economic development activities that were touted as being
for their benefit.
In one example, when UMDNJ was proposed, the city was obsessed
with having such a huge infrastructure development event take
place in Newark. Mayor Carlin and others boosted this project
as the best thing that could lead the way for Newark's future.
The promise was held out of providing health-care to all Newark
residents, many of whom had little access to health-care.
What was unsaid in this booster rhetoric was that about 20,000
peoplefamilies and individuals who lived in the area
designated for the medical school campuswould be displaced
from their homes. Most if not all, of these Newark residents
were black, and had no role to play in the decision-making
that led to the site designation of the medical school.
Large numbers of reports have been produced on Newark's
perpetual reinvention and transition. Suffice it to say, community
participation is not significant in any of these planning
processes. Planning in Newark has always been an elite process
and has actively excluded neighborhood residents from meaningful
engagement in shaping the future of the city through democratic
policymaking processes.
So what is meant by the "disconnect" that Cory Booker claims
he will bridge if he becomes Mayor of Newark? The disconnect
is not so much physical, between downtown and outlying neighborhoods,
but symbolic, of the degree of opportunity for ordinary residents,
citizens of a city, versus business interests whose roots
are difficult to locate and have a limited stake in an active
city citizenry.
Unless there is a significant shift of power to resident
groups and organized neighborhood interests, and the city
and corporate industry become less of a paternal partner in
development and policymaking, not much will change other than
the increasing prevalence of decay. The question is, what
incentive does a new mayor have to change the status quo that
provides benefits to a number of powerful business interests,
state and county interests and local economic elites? It goes
without saying that James can only continue the current pattern.
It remains to be seen whether anti-James frustration over
a deepening economic divide in Newark tips the balance against
him and for Booker. Regardless of the outcome of the election,
Newark's "Renaissance" in its current pattern is a failure
for its residents. It is a pattern of reinvention repeated
in every phase in the city's life, promoted only for short
term political gain, and for the maintenance of power and
economic interests between the state and local level.
Navdeep Mathur is a doctoral candidate at the Department
of Public Administration at Rutgers Newark. In 2000 and 2001
he served on the Mayor's Economic Opportunity Task Force,
and he is a member of the Newark Master Plan Working Group.
Previously, he interned at the Newark Economic Development
Corporation.
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