I started the Facebook page Housing Justice Headlines in early 2019 as a way to aggregate and share all of the articles I was reading related to the housing crisis. As a public page, anyone can see what I post, so I expected to eventually get some angry comments about Sharia Law or building walls. I was not surprised then, when I got into a heated discussion with a commenter over a rather boring Newsweek article about AOC’s connecting student debt and low wages to young people’s inability to buy homes. The exchange was silly because most people accept that low wages and lots of debt are in fact barriers to buying a home. But one thing this person wrote really struck me – “It’s not a crisis, it’s an opportunity.” I couldn’t grasp it at first. “How could anyone regard displacement, eviction, and skyrocketing rents as anything other than a crisis with devastating effects on actual humans, families, and communities?” Corporations certainly make those kind of emotion-free calculations all the time, but how could some regular working guy with a cowboy hat celebrate his neighbor’s loss as his own gain? I eventually came across two items that helped me make sense of that comment.
The first was a podcast episode sent to me by a friend who I had discussed the exchange with. The basic gist of the podcast is that people tend to adopt either more of an egalitarian mindset (we all have equal rights, power lies with the people, etc.) or more of a hierarchical mindset (that of business and free markets, things *naturally* sort themselves into a hierarchy with “sharks on top and a million minnows at the bottom”, etc.). We all carry both but one tends to dominate. Thinking about the housing crisis through each of these lenses produces vastly different analyses and solutions, and to the more hiererchical-leaning person, if you cannot afford housing it is your own fault. Wages have stagnated across all industries for the last 40 years, and there are fewer opportunities to secure the kind of high-paying job that allows for stability and a comfortable retirement. For some people, this is a sign of injustice, exploitation, and the upward redistribution of wealth that needs to be fought with union organizing and equity-seeking policies. For others, this is a sign that the proving ground of capitalism is working just fine, and that in order to succeed one must innovate and become more like the sharks to prove their place in the order. And so if real estate has become the dominant form of investment, workers who similarly suffer from the stagnation of wages – but who more-closely identify with the sharks – can increase their net worth and differentiate themselves as smarter than other workers by flipping houses and becoming landlords. Not that every person who invests in real estate thinks this way, but in order to see your neighbor’s foreclosure as your own opportunity, you need to rationalize a process that might otherwise engender empathy.
The other thing that helped my understanding was finding the book Capital City: Gentrification and the Real Estate State by Sam Stein (through an article titled To Save Urban Planners, Cities Need Community Organizers). In Capital City, the author explains the complex and often contradictory role of urban planners in capitalist societies. Planners are tasked with balancing the spatial needs and desires of the city’s residents with the all-consuming task of raising property values. What was especially interesting to me was the discussion of the types of tools planners use to do this, as well as the justifications for any gentrification that results – all of which I have read in countless articles and comments sections where “enlightened” urban planners upheld the “natural” order of the real estate market and rolled their eyes at the silly idea that housing might be a right. While most urban planners tend to be cosmopolitan liberals in favor of “representation” and “diversity”, their orientation towards the real estate market and commitment to rising property values as a sign of a healthy neighborhood betrays an internalization of the previously mentioned hierarchical thinking.
“In the real estate state, planners can create marvelous environments for rich people, but if they work to improve poor peoples’ spaces they risk sparking gentrification and displacement.”
Capital City: Gentrification and the Real Estate State
But why might this kind of thinking be so prevalent across the political spectrum when it comes to housing, especially when the devastating effects of the housing crisis can be seen all over the place? According to Leilani Farha (as referenced in Capital City, pg 2), UN Special Rapporteur on the Right to Housing, 61% of the assets in existence – $217 trillion (that is 217,000 billions if you can wrap your head around it!) – are invested in real estate, with about 75% of that in housing. There are a lot of interrelated reasons for this (and I encourage you to check out Capital City to learn more!), but the important thing to recognize is that land and housing are being bought up at a rapid pace, by both individual and institutional investors (but particularly those firms that can leverage extraordinary amounts of debt to purchase massive quantities of real estate), in cities and rural areas around the globe.
It is my completely non-scientific opinion that the reason so many people are taking this zero-sum “crisis-as-opportunity” road when it comes to housing is because they are scared. With all of this upward redistribution of wealth, the middle class is shrinking – it’s getting even harder for you to get there if you grew up poor, and it’s getting harder for you to remain there even if you were born with an economic or social leg up on your competition. People are scared of falling down the ladder and scared of their children not even reaching the ladder, and real estate investment is a much easier way to increase your individual wealth than organizing a union. The thing is that housing is so much more than a vehicle to earn “passive income”. It forms the base of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, along with air, water, food, clothing, and reproduction. You can choose to rationalize it as competition, but every eviction and foreclosure holds a heartbreaking story of actual human beings. There is no way to separate real estate speculation from the material effects it has on our families and communities.
It is very easy to let ourselves be ruled by fear, especially in the economically unstable times that we are living in. But I think that forging bonds of solidarity and mutual aid with the many millions of other people facing this housing crisis can be so much stronger than our fear. When we gather up all our dignity and love of neighbor, when we stop shaming ourselves and others for being poor, when we demand that housing is a human right – then we have the basis to start building the power that we need to change things together. Organizing together fills me with the kind of hope that burns brighter than any fear.
I taught an undergraduate class on the housing crisis for the Fall 2018 semester that met weekly for 2.5 hours. I wanted to spark debate and discussion about segregation, redlining, gentrification, the failure of public housing in the US, etc., but I quickly realized that the readings I had assigned were too dense for a student lacking a background in social science, rendering in-class discussions lifeless right out of the gate. I started researching films to show in class that would reinforce what I thought were some of the most important concepts, as well as drive home the human element of the housing crisis (in particular for the students who had never experienced housing insecurity). We watched several films throughout the semester and they were great tools to help students talk about various facets of the housing crisis in their own words, as well as to interrogate some of their own internalized biases around housing, poverty, and race. Most of these films can be streamed for free, via Kanopy (login using your local public library card), PBS, Vimeo, or YouTube. Do you have a film related to housing justice to suggest? Add it in the comments and include a link if you can.
1. America Divided: A House Divided (2016)
2. Brick by Brick: A Civil Rights Story (2008)
3. Homes for All (2012)
4. The Pruitt-Igoe Myth (2011)
5. Adam Ruins Everything: The Disturbing History of the Suburbs (2017)
6. Shelter (2018)
7. Sold Out: Affordable Housing at Risk (2017)
8. A Matter of Place (2014)
9. Housing in Vienna, High Quality and Affordable (2016)
10. Poverty, Politics, and Profit: The Housing Crisis (2017)
Realizing a Right to Housing in Philadelphia: Towards a Cohesive Strategy
This paper is an intervention into the market-based housing policy status quo in the United States, and the city I call home, Philadelphia. It is also an intervention into the single-issue activism and advocacy that dominates in social movement circles that deal with housing issues. I will argue that current housing policy in the United States is layered upon generations of racialized public policy that has always centered market ideology at the expense of human flourishing, and therefore an ameliorative approach that seeks to tweak current policy will not be able to adequately address either the structural racism built into the US housing market or the gross distributional inequities the market produces. Instead, I will build the case for a transformative approach that not only critiques the status quo, but parts ways with it to create a realm of struggle for an ideological and instrumental right to housing.
I will begin with a nod to the theorists who have helped shape my own vision for what a right to housing could look like and why it’s worth struggling for. From there I move into a broad overview of US housing policy from independence until now, taking a moment at a few points to emphasize the effect that white supremacy had on policy and the spatial and economic consequences that emerged as a direct result of these policies. The logical question arising from an investigation of this history is, “So what do we do then?” To begin answering that very relevant question, I will trace the history of social housing in Vienna from the end of World War I until now. This is not to suggest that the US should or even could do an abrupt about-face and adopt Vienna’s current policies; housing policy is almost entirely path-dependent, and the stories of Philadelphia and Vienna couldn’t be more divergent. The purpose of sharing this case study of Vienna is to give the reader some fuel for her imagination, a small taste of another possibility for how other humans living in an industrial (now post-industrial) city decided to organize housing on a grand scale. With a few lessons from the Vienna case in hand, I will then move towards a discussion of the current housing situation in Philadelphia and argue that homeownership is not a “pathway out of poverty” for a large and growing part of our city. I will conclude with a proposal for a cohesive social movement articulation of a right to housing and some tools that could be used to further goals of decommodification and collective ownership including community land trusts, social finance, and worker cooperatives.
Housing is a local space with global implications, fixed in a neighborhood from the time of construction but stretching out into the world economy over pathways of capital mobility. The “real estate market”, while a fairly recent innovation in the long history of private property and capitalist markets, has become the dominant language in our conversations about housing, whether we are tenants, buyers, sellers, or researchers. The history of how the commodity value of housing came to be its most important quality is discussed in the next section. I am concerned here with how conversations about the housing crisis have become overdetermined by both advocates of free-market ideology as well as stakeholders advocating for justice, resulting in a choir of variously-pitched voices singing the “There is No Alternative” chorus. Concerned with this overdetermination in the realm of social theory related to capitalism, J.K. Gibson-Graham advocate for an “anticapitalist politics of economic invention” that acknowledges the varieties of capitalism and capitalist process, rather than accepting “capitalism” as the ultimate way of understanding our social and economic relationships[i]. In Unmaking Goliath : Community Control in the Face of Global Capital[ii], James DeFilippis describes a similar phenomenon whereby capital mobility in particular becomes the overdetermined element and urban stakeholders are powerless to achieve anything beyond attracting capital to their city. Tom Slater locates this economic essentialism at the urban scale, which he describes as false choice urbanism: the binary choice between capital investment, luxury development, and gentrification on one hand, and blight, economic decline on the other[iii].
This type of thinking affects anti-capitalist and anti-gentrification activists as well, foreclosing on many possibilities for creative resistance towards new economic relationships because when cast against the capitalist behemoth, they seem performative at worst and reformist at best. Struggles against gentrification end up being reactionary and generalized, whereas campaigns against eviction or a bad landlord seem detached from the root causes of the housing crisis and devoid of hope for the possibility of doing things differently. For policymakers and activists alike, this leads to an uninterrogated commitment to homeownership and ameliorative solutions that do not question the status quo system of organizing housing, even as they seek to deliver bandaids and painkillers (when heavy antibiotics are what is needed!)[iv][v].
The built form of housing has always been seen as a tangible, visual reflection of the organization of society. It reveals the existing class structure and power relationships. But it has also long been a vehicle for imagining alternative social orders. Every emancipatory movement must deal with the housing question in one form or another. This capacity to spur the political imagination is part of housing’s social value as well[vi].
Thus, we seek a transformative approach that seeks local autonomy, a discourse of economic plurality rather than hegemony, and a more democratic and sustainable organization of land uses[vii]. These are some of the building blocks for a right to housing orientation, whereby the human need for shelter takes priority over the desire for profit. This approach is necessary if we want to get past what Mechelle Dickerson calls the homeownership myth, the complex of ideas and policies that equate homeownership with The American Dream, stability, wealth creation, responsibility, moral correctness, etc.[viii]. If we accept homeownership to be an undisputed good – as have the majority of lawmakers since the New Deal – then we will be less likely to understand how “housing policies now seem more focused on boosting the economy and ensuring the financial well-being of the real estate and financial services industry than supporting the people who are being encouraged to buy houses[ix]”. In turn, this blind spot prevents us from seriously investigating alternatives to thinking about homeownership as the ideal form of tenure, the correct way to build wealth, and a popular strategy whereby low-income residents might gain greater economic security. If we are to demand a right to housing for everyone[x] and unleash our creative potential through serious experiments in community ownership – social housing, social finance, cooperatives, and community land trusts – we will need to do away with the thinking that capitalist markets (and therefore capitalist housing practices) are inevitable and act like we truly believe that another world is possible.
[i] Gibson-Graham, J.K., 2006. The end of capitalism (as we knew it) a feminist critique of political economy 1st University of Minnesota Press ed., 2006., Minneapolis ; London: University of Minnesota Press.
[ii] DeFilippis, J., 2004. Unmaking Goliath community control in the face of global capital. New York: Routledge.
[x]Everyone meaning not just those with enough pre-existing wealth to secure a down payment, who can pay for the upkeep and maintenance of a house over time and through periods of unemployment/underemployment, and who are able to purchase a house in a neighborhood with appreciating land values.
This fall I am teaching a 2-credit undergraduate elective in the Geography and Urban Studies department at Temple University about the housing crisis. The class meets weekly for 2.5 hours and is primarily reading and discussion-based. I’m sharing the syllabus below.
This course will look at the roots and drivers of the contemporary housing crisis as it plays out across the urban landscape using a Right to Housing framework. Affordability, segregation and discrimination, homelessness, eviction, homeownership and mortgages, and gentrification/redevelopment will be the main issues around which this course is structured. Students will engage these topics through assigned readings and media presentations, seeking out relevant local news sources, and discussing these topics and sources in class. For the final assignment, students will choose a topic related to the housing crisis and develop a project of their choosing around it.
Students will have a historical and geographical understanding of the processes segregation and discrimination, homelessness, eviction, homeownership and mortgages, gentrification, and redevelopment.
Students will understand how these processes are connected and be able to use a Right to Housing framework to describe the processes and think critically about possible solutions.
Students will understand how these processes interact in the city of Philadelphia in particular.
The Introduction to this book can be found on Google Books if you don’t get it in time for the first class. There is a link up on Canvas.
At the end of each chapter (excluding the introduction) you will find a list of discussion questions. Use them as a guide to important points as you read and take notes so you are prepared to discuss the material in class.
You can order this book through Head House Books, a local independent book store in Queen Village (619 S 2nd St.; 215-923-9525)
· Housing America, Introduction (pp 1-10)
Right to Housing
· “Why a Right to Housing Is Needed and Makes Sense: Editors’ Introduction.” In A Right to Housing: Foundation for a New Social Agenda, edited by Bratt Rachel G., Stone Michael E., and Hartman Chester, 1-19. Temple University Press, 2006. http://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctt1bw1kqb.4 (pp 1-19)
I traveled to Vienna in July/August 2017 to get a feel for the city and see for myself what Vienna’s social housing looks like on the ground, as well as to learn from the perspective of people living there. Photos from that trip are interspersed throughout this post to give context and help the reader better imagine social housing. There’s also a great exhibit up at the Center for Architecture in NYC through May 19, 2018 called “Social Housing – New European Projects” that I highly recommend for anyone looking for more inspiration and to get an idea about the kinds of problems (poverty, social isolation, aging, etc.) that these social housing projects (in conjunction with social programs) have set out to address. Lastly, as I finished my thesis (of which this post is a part), Dr. Peter Dreier from Occidental College in Los Angeles published a great article called “Why America Needs More Social Housing” in American Prospect. Definitely worth a read for even more of the Vienna social housing context and ideas for why social housing (suited to the geography and social history of a particular city of course) would go a long way towards addressing the housing crisis in a transformative way.
As the previous historical account has shown, the system of housing finance, production, and tenure in the United States is broken and has always been broken. Because housing is primarily considered a commodity in the United States, housing that is truly affordable to the large segment of the population that cannot afford a mortgage (in either the short or long term) is located far from jobs and is often run-down, overpriced, and managed by unscrupulous landlords. This is especially true in Philadelphia where housing stability for low- and moderate- income people has been compromised by a long history of redlining-induced segregation, low wages, foreclosure, eviction, gentrification and lack of quality affordable housing in either the private market or public housing. To realize a right to housing, the entire system of finance, production, and tenure must be reimagined, and as such I propose that we take decommodification seriously and explore social housing options that meet the need for stable, dignified housing that can be accessed by both low- and moderate-income tenants. One source of inspiration for what a social housing system could look like is that of Vienna.
After World War I, social democrats in Vienna swept the municipal elections and made the provision of housing a priority. 60,000 units of social housing were produced between 1923 and 1934. Nearly 100 years since it first embarked on a mission to house its working-class residents, housing policy and financing in Vienna have evolved and some elements of the social housing system have been recommodified; however, protections for social housing and the public commitment to its provision remain popular and intact. While the histories and policies of Vienna and Philadelphia are widely divergent and Vienna’s housing regime has plenty of contradictions and problems, there are still many lessons that Philadelphia could learn from and be inspired by in its own journey towards realizing a right to housing. Before I trace the history of social housing in Vienna, I want to spend some time describing the housing landscape of Philadelphia.
Affordable Housing in Philadelphia
Philadelphia is a prime example of the failure of ameliorative housing policy. Philadelphia had the highest poverty rate of all the big cities in the United States in 2017[i]. 28% of Philadelphians – between 430,000 and 440,000 people – live below the federal poverty level, and one in eight Philadelphians lives in deep poverty (50% of the federal poverty line; less than $12,300/year for a family of four)[ii]. Since the 1970s, the poverty rate in Philadelphia has grown from a 50-year low of 15.4% to the current rate reflecting a long period of decline out of step with the nation as a whole (2017 US poverty rate is 12.7%). Renters in Philadelphia face particular challenges due to a weakly-regulated housing landscape, an aging housing stock and few public housing options. The Reinvestment Fund (a Community Development Financial Institution located in Philadelphia) reports that:
HUD records related to disproportionate housing needs in Philadelphia (i.e., housing units with one or more of the following conditions: over-crowded, cost-burdened, lacking a complete kitchen or lacking complete plumbing) show that 47.3% of all households have at least one of these conditions, and that 24.3% have severely disproportionate housing needs. In addition, in the city’s 2016 Assessment of Fair Housing, the Philadelphia Housing Authority stated that the supply of publicly subsidized rental housing is sufficient to address only 12% of the need; and a recently released study by the Federal Reserve Bank of Philadelphia notes that 20% of the federally subsidized rental units will reach the end of their period of affordability and some portion of them, particularly in appreciating neighborhoods, may become market rate units[iii].
With the poverty rate consistently stuck around 25% in Philadelphia, the minimum wage stuck at $7.25/hour, and growing numbers of young college graduates moving to the city in search of jobs, there are fewer decent affordable rental units to go around. This means that those with the lowest incomes are often forced to live in dilapidated, dangerous, and dirty housing. While eviction is in itself a huge problem in Philadelphia (there are about 20,000 eviction notices filed every year[iv]), the actual living conditions of the people being evicted are terrible. Testimony collected at a 2017 City Council hearing on eviction and substandard housing in Philadelphia reveals a long list of violations: broken windows not repaired in the winter, broken plumbing and raw sewage in basements, all kinds of vermin, illegal utility shutoffs, collapsed ceilings, and a variety of fire hazards. One mother testified about a cockroach infestation in her multifamily building, resulting in one climbing down the feeding tube of her disabled daughter and causing her to choke[v]. This is the type of poorly-regulated private market housing that low-income people in Philadelphia are forced to live in. As evidenced in the testimony, the regulatory body charged with enforcing the lax housing code for private rental apartments in Philadelphia[vi] – Licensing and Inspections (L&I) – is severely under-resourced and unable to address all of these issues, and unfortunately when it does, the result is often that the housing is found to be uninhabitable and the tenant is forced to leave.
With a spotty rental record, limited funds to pay for first, last, and security deposit up front, and a public housing wait list that is so long that it closed in 2013[vii], low-income renters have no choice but to find another similarly-destressed private rental unit, to stay with a friend or relative, or end up homeless. All of these effects are magnified if the tenant is a single mother, as they can trigger an investigation by DHS (Department of Human Services) that results in the removal of the children from her custody, to say nothing of the intense stress the situation causes for the entire family. But the reality of a city that has the highest per-capita incarceration rate among the top 10 biggest cities in the US as well as being the most-impoverished big city, is hidden behind 29 new high-rises (most containing luxury rental apartments)[viii], pop-up beer gardens, and urbanist cries for historic preservation.
The PHS Pop Up Beer Garden at 313 S. Broad Street on Thursday, July 18, 2013. ( Yong Kim / Staff Photographer )
Philadelphia also has a high rate of homeownership, even among people with lower incomes, however the historic legacy of redlining continues to haunt the market. A recent investigation by The Center for Investigative Journalism focused on the racism that continues to pervade the mortgage market in Philadelphia, finding that blacks in Philadelphia were 2.7 times more likely to be denied a conventional mortgage then whites[ix]. Banks continue to insist that their decisions are based on credit scores and debt-to-income ratios rather then race, but the data shows that blacks and Latinos continue to be denied mortgages at much higher rates and that they continue to have higher rates of approval for homes that are least likely to appreciate in value due to the neighborhoods that they are located in (majority non-white)[x]. Because of the deeply-entrenched nature of racism in the United States at all levels of public policy and finance, a right to housing movement must seek reparations for these ongoing injustices that keep black residents at any income level from realizing housing stability and dignity. As the historic record shows, a perpetual focus on market-based solutions does not solve the problem of racism, as it is baked into those same solutions. As we turn to the example of Vienna’s social housing system, we must keep in mind the historic legacy of colonialism and slavery in the United States so that we do not imagine a new system of housing that continues to reproduce the racism and segregation of the current system.
“Light, Fresh Air, and Sunshine”: Vienna’s Social Housing System
Vienna’s social housing system is the subject of a great deal of journalism and academic research. While public housing in the United States is widely considered a failure and the majority of construction has ceased, the social housing system in Vienna is highly-esteemed and continues to grow. In this paper I differentiate social housing from public housing because of the historic stigma public housing has in the United States due to disinvestment, segregation, and financial constraints imposed by lawmakers resistant to any public provision of housing. While both social and public housing are developed using taxpayer money and administered by public agencies, social housing as practiced in Vienna (and in many cities throughout Europe) is rooted in a social democratic ethos with a policy goal of social cohesion. In order to imagine what a publicly-funded and administered system of rental housing could look like in the United States, it’s necessary that we part ways with our old ideas related to public housing.
Vienna in 2018 is a vibrant cosmopolitan city of more than 2 million inhabitants. Like other cities throughout the world, it is speckled with the signs of new development: cranes rise above the skyline in nearly every district, sidewalks throughout the central district are flanked by safety fences and scaffolding, and huge banners advertising new luxury housing hang from historic pre-war buildings undergoing conversion. The presence of international real estate capital flowing into the city is dearly felt in both the changes to the physical appearance of the city and in how the proud mission of the city’s social housing regime has adapted to this new reality. Despite these changes and the recommodification of some previously-decommodified housing, social housing remains widely popular and new units continue to be constructed: 78% of Viennese people are renters, 42% is non-profit social, and 500,000 people live in municipal housing (social housing administered by the city)[xi]. To put this in context, Philadelphia – with a similar-sized population and land area – houses just 9% of its residents with public subsidies, one-third of which are private-market rentals using Section 8 vouchers. In Vienna that figure is 60% decommodified social housing[xii].
Vienna’s social housing mission can be traced back to struggles over the extremely limited stock of rental housing available in the 19th century. At the time, immigrants from throughout the Hapsburg empire[xiii] descended upon Vienna in search of industrial jobs and a better standard of living. Relatively late to industrialization for a variety of reasons, by 1910 49% of Vienna’s workforce was in industry and manufacturing[xiv]. Housing production did not keep up with this influx of industrial workers and homelessness became epidemic[xv]. Where workers managed to secure housing, tuberculosis was widespread due to a lack of sanitation and overcrowding. In 1910 and 1911 there were mass protests over housing, some of which ended violently[xvi]. The advent of World War I brought a transition to a war economy focused on the production of strategic goods and with it high unemployment resulting from non-strategic businesses going under. As more men were conscripted into fighting, production suffered and sent ripple effects throughout the Viennese economy. With the end of World War I in 1918, even more immigrants flocked to Vienna, putting further stress on an already limited housing supply.
Vienna held its first democratic municipal elections following the proclamation of the Republic of Austria[xvii] and the Social Democratic Workers’ Party (which had been demanding social housing since the outset of World War I) achieved 54.7% of the vote[xviii]. This electoral victory was foreshadowed by the Viennese settlers’ movement, which began squatting the suburbs and farming allotments and ended up forming cooperatives and building blocks of houses in and around the allotments. These settler organizations, driven by their own insistence on a right to housing and inspired by the Russian Revolution in their backyard, also participated in and organized demonstrations demanding city support for their construction projects. It was on this wave of revolutionary fervor and collectivist work that the Viennese Social Democrats achieved their victory over the Christian Socials (the party of the landlords). This period of time until the Austro-fascist coup that brought the National Socialists to power (1934) is popularly called ”Red Vienna”.
Addressing the housing crisis was the top priority of the newly-elected Social Democrats, and by 1922 they passed two important laws establishing both rent control and a right to expropriation (essentially granting eminent domain over unused and vacant property, as well as property deemed “underused”)[xix]. This legislation further-dampened the enthusiasm of the private market to construct housing for workers, and so the Social Democrats launched their ambitious social housing program to fill that vacuum. Initially their goals were small – 1000 units in the first year – but the program was so successful that it more than doubled that goal and established a new goal of 25,000 units over the next five years[xx]. All these goals were met, new goals were set, and by 1934 the results were astonishing:
61,175 apartments and 348 housing estates, forty-two settlement groups with 5,257 terrace houses and 2,155 commercial premesis. One tenth of the inhabitants of Vienna lived in council housing estates in 1934[xxi].
With each new housing development advances in architecture and the organization of space were improved upon. Unlike the council housing being erected in other European cities at the time, the social value of housing was emphasized in Vienna. New social housing used architectural design to provide “light, fresh air and sunshine” to tenants, as well as to collectivize various components of reproductive labor to “liberate housewives”[xxii]. Laundries, garden allotments, nurseries, playgrounds, libraries, counseling offices, rooms for political gathering and debate, publicly-accessible courtyards and kindergartens became integral parts of the new social housing landscape. Units were quite small by today’ standards, but these amenities which were held in common and administrated by the city gave tenants access to resources never before available to them.
Rents were only 3-4% of a tenant’s income and new laws established rights for renters that gave them stability of tenure and constrained eviction (for example, when a worker became ill, rent payments ceased until they recovered)[xxiii]. Rather than rent being used to pay off a mortgage, the city considered construction costs to be sunk, so rents were based on maintenance and operating costs. New social housing was spread throughout the city, having the long-term effect of fighting off the type of intense segregation that we take as normal in the United States. The social housing program of Red Vienna was financed primarily through redistributive taxation. The Social Democrat city government introduced real estate, capital gains, investment and luxury taxes, but the greatest source of revenue was the progressive housing tax: about 2% for a simple worker’s apartment and 37-55% for a luxury apartment[xxiv][xxv]. This was made possible by the Separation Act of 1921[xxvi], which separated Vienna from Lower Austria, making Vienna its own province with the ability to raise its own revenue through taxation[xxvii].
The Red Vienna social housing program as it was first designed came to an end in 1934 when the rise of Austro-fascism led to civil war between the Social Democrats and the Christian Socials, the latter being the only party permitted after parliament was dissolved by the National Socialists[xxviii]. After World War II, the Second Republic was declared, and free elections were finally held in 1945. From that time forward, Austria’s government came to be characterized by cooperation and the idea of “social partnership” between the Social Democrats and Christian Socials. This “corporatist” government ushered in an era of Fordism and although Vienna’s city government was once-again led by the Social Democrats, it was much more of a top-down welfare state administration that some have argued depoliticized civil society[xxix]. Social housing became part of national welfare state policy, but with important changes. Most importantly, third sector (non-profit) housing providers emerged to eventually become key players in the social housing regime. Vienna’s built infrastructure was badly damaged during the war, resulting in a loss of about 20% of the total housing stock, and it these third sector providers stepped in to successfully fill that gap (as the city did not have the capacity to do it alone). Additionally, new legal frameworks and funding schemes were introduced soon after to allow for housing cooperatives and associations. Together with council housing constructed by the city, the housing shortage was largely eliminated in fifteen years.
The 1960s were a time of prolific social housing construction in Vienna. New technologies including prefabricated elements were introduced[xxx], reducing the cost of social housing at the expense of architectural quality and aesthetics[xxxi]. In addition to criticism of the monotony and density of these new apartments, the splitting of the city into distinct quadrants associated with a particular land use resulted in many of these new developments being constructed in far-flung areas of the city that were poorly-served by public transportation[xxxii]. None-the-less there was marked improvement in the quality of apartments at this time and the city succeeded in building more than 10,000 social housing apartments throughout the decade. Despite the top-down welfare state approach that characterized the postwar decades, by the 1970s the idea of participatory planning in the realm of social housing gained a foothold, which led into the “soft urban renewal” policies of the 1980s. These policies provided loans and subsidies to modernize the social housing stock, as well as to help private landlords who were not motivated to update or improve their properties without the financial incentive of high market rate rents. The 1985 Housing Promotion Law devolved the management of subsidies to the nine regional governments, which began the process of fragmentation in Vienna’s social housing system but has not slowed the construction of new social housing units[xxxiii].
The last few decades have seen a turn towards increased financialization and privatization, but Vienna has managed thus far to avoid selling off its social housing stock or deregulating rent controls on social housing as other cities have done. The city has had to innovate in terms of financing due to the influx of private capital flowing into the real estate market and raising property values, which has meant introducing “Right-to-Buy” in conjunction with new units and the flexibilization of the federal budget so that funds are no longer earmarked for housing or any other use[xxxiv]. Another important development has been the dualization of the social housing sector. While non-profits came on the scene during the postwar housing crisis, they are now the exclusive developers of new social housing. Regarding rents, regulation, and quality there is not much difference between the non-profit housing and municipal housing, however, securing a non-profit unit requires a down payment of around 500€ per square meter[xxxv]. The city has programs to lower this cost and offer low-interest loans for those who qualify, but it remains that a person needs to have access to capital to secure much of the social housing being developed. While rents are still regulated in the private rental market, rent controls have been liberalized over the last couple decades allowing landlords to upgrade their properties and move from the low-price to the high-price sector. Landlords are also permitted to charge location bonuses on top of rent in the most desirable sections of the city. The combination of these policies layered on top of previous policies has resulted in a two-tier system for low-income households, where those who were able to access council housing or get a rent-controlled lease in the private market (prior to 1994) have a good standard of living. As with all urban policy, housing policy in Vienna continues to evolve, however, the social democratic ideals and commitment to social cohesion that the system is rooted in appear to be intact so there is reason to be (cautiously) optimistic about what types of solutions they will come up with to deal with their current issues.
End Notes: What Philadelphia Can Learn From Vienna About Social Housing
It is easy to take a surface look at Vienna’s social housing history and either glorify it as the answer to the housing crisis or write it off as impossible to replicate in a US city. The scope and scale of it require a deeper inquiry by those of us who are interested in a transformative approach to housing policy. Like military, welfare, or environmental policy, housing policy in any nation or city is going to depend on the historical moment when it gets passed, as well as all of the history and policies that unfolded leading up to it. We cannot simply ask city council, the state of Pennsylvania, and the United States to change their tax codes and earmark a few hundred million dollars for the purpose of building social housing and expect to start construction in a few months. Neither can we just dissolve the cultural baggage of public housing in the US or convince the vast majority of homeowners to become tenants. And yet there are several things we can learn.
Firstly, a citywide right to housing movement that focuses on the rights of renters needs to be consolidated and mobilized. Currently, most housing justice work is fragmented and to a certain extent competition. There is organizing around eviction and a push for “just cause” legislation, but this amounts to a single issue that is a symptom of the housing crisis, but not a root cause. There has recently been some great investigative journalism exposing the continued practice of redlining, but not a real critique of real estate markets or the idea that housing should be seen as a wealth-building tool. The racist history of housing policy in the United States needs to be exposed through education, of which data related to federal expenditures on suburbanization and the wealth-depleting process of homeownership for nonwhite and lower-income people must be exposed. A right to housing movement needs to be grounded in a critique of the irrefutably racialized capitalist real estate market as it is, while also offering a vision of what is possible. The Vienna example is useful in this way because while recreating it would be impossible, its mere existence proves that there are other ways to organize our housing. In addition to alternatives to our current housing system, we need to imagine new ways to build wealth and stability – the question of being able to set out children up for the future with a good education and for ourselves to be able to retire comfortably in a post-pension post-safety net world. We need to imagine new safety nets that are not market-driven. From the social movement, new leaders that aren’t non-profit professionals or city bureaucrats need to get elected at all levels of government.
Secondly, that movement needs to articulate a clear set of objectives, no matter how utopian some of them may seem. In fact, the bigger the better, alongside the history and facts of our current housing crisis. Housing legislation enacted both during the Red Vienna period and at other points in time as circumstances changed offers some good examples. Yes, just cause eviction protection is part of that. Rent controls are another. Options for extended tenancy. Modernization and rehabilitation of current public housing. Creation of a new body whose exclusive job is to regulate private rental housing (to replace L&I who do not have the manpower or agency to prosecute slumlords). Housing tax on luxury rental units to fund a social housing development bank. New legislation to make community land trusts and innovative forms of social finance more feasible and easier to scale up. Expanded use of eminent domain in gentrifying neighborhoods to preserve affordable living and small business spaces for lower-income residents. Public input on a development master plan. Clear goals for development of affordable housing units. No income limits for tenancy in current public or future social housing (ie if you are low-income enough to qualify but better your situation after a couple years, you will not be forced out of your apartment).
Thirdly, experiments in social housing can and should be carried out now, even if they have to be small-scale (perhaps a goal of ten units, the majority. In the absence of significant federal and local funding, this will require fundraising and other forms of social financing (a Social Real Estate Investment Trust is one avenue I plan to explore in my future research). By working with a particular neighborhood to engage stakeholders, find out what their needs are, and mobilizing together to raise money and aggressively pressure lawmakers (differentiated from just asking them in minority protests or petitions), we can build social equity around the idea of social housing, and then such a housing complex, when built, can serve as a “tangible, visible reflection” of how we think society should be organized. Vienna’s social housing program did not start with 100,000 units. It started with a movement of people forced to squat in the periphery of the city that led to municipal regime change. The historical context could not be more different from Philadelphia’s in the details, but the struggle for a right to housing, against landlords, and against the commodification of the means of survival remain salient.
The political and social context for Vienna’s initial venture into social housing was crisis. In Philadelphia we are in the midst of a crisis as well – a quarter of our city lives in poverty and there is a gross lack of safe, accessible, stable affordable housing. This has resulted in eviction, foreclosure, poor health outcomes, stress, indignity, and the treatment of a large portion of our city as less than human. For those with greater means but who still struggle under the weight of student loans, medical debt, and economic precarity, increasing rents and the inability to afford homeownership leave us in a place of permanent instability and stress. This crisis is human-made, so we need to use all of our humanity, creativity, and collective strength to change it.
[iv] Ibid. This does not take into account “unofficial” evictions whereby the landlord uses intimidation and other illegal means to force a tenant to vacate outside of the legal system.
[v] City of Philadelphia City Council Committee on Licenses and Inspections and Public Health and Human Services.
RESOLUTION 160988 – Resolution authorizing the Committee on Licenses and Inspections and the Committee on Public Health and Human Services to conduct hearings concerning the impact of eviction and substandard housing on the health and wellbeing of low-income renters, and examining solutions that would improve the safety and stability of rental housing, including the right to counsel. http://legislation.phila.gov/transcripts/Public%20Hearings/health/2017/ph032017.pdf. Retrieved 4/27/2018.
[vii] Philadelphia Housing Authority. Admissions. http://www.pha.phila.gov/housing/admissions.aspx. Retrieved 4/27/2018. The list for public housing closed on April 15, 2003; estimates for the waiting time of most public housing in Philadelphia (if the waitlist were open) stands around 13 years.
[xxv] Together the 90 most expensive apartments in Vienna paid the same taxes as the 350,000 least expensive apartments (Blau, quoted in Verlič).
[xxvi] City of Vienna. Culture and History: From the Capital of the Austro-Hungarian Empire to the Capital of the Republic – History of Vienna. https://www.wien.gv.at/english/history/overview/capital.html. Retrieved 4/27/2018. This separation was primarily in the interest of the Christian Socials because the bulk of Austria’s population was concentrated in Vienna, which meant that the Social Democrats also held power in the more conservative and rural areas of Lower Austria.
[xxvii] Hatz, Gerhard (2008) “City Profile”: Vienna in Cities.
As geographers we are always reminded that our maps are inherently distorted in some way, whether it’s in shape, distance, or size. Mapmakers have the power to decide what gets included and what gets left out order to tell the most compelling and useful story. Tracking the history of housing policy has been the same for me. I tried to keep focused on housing while providing enough context so the reader could connect the dots. My account below is limited and flawed, but constantly growing the more I read and experience. Any constructive comments, book/author suggestions, or refutations of something I got completely wrong are appreciated. I hope my attempt to bring light to some of the existing literature on housing policy inspires you to further explore this history and question some of the truths you hold to be self-evident. Thanks for reading!
Housing in the United States is preeminently a commodity – an investment vehicle for individuals and families, the object of real estate speculation, the lifeblood of the residential construction industry, and the subject of a long history of government intervention into mortgage markets. Due to the historical legacy of white supremacy and the structures created through it, the cultural and financial benefits of homeownership are not received equally across society, and in fact homeownership can actually impede wealth creation for a large portion of US society because of the high levels of risk involved. Housing policy has evolved over time, but even as various moments in history gave rise to more progressive orientations towards the provision of housing, the focus has remained on promoting homeownership at the expense of social housing, both in practice and in the popular imagination. In this paper I will attempt to summarize the long and racialized history of homeownership and housing policy in the United States as they overlap and inform each other. My goal is to ground a future argument for a right to housing in general, and the need for decommodified social housing in particular, in the long history of racism and market failure that characterize uneven development in the United States.
Land and Housing From Independence to the Great Depression
Even before the advent of the mortgage industry, homeownership was part of the American psyche. The Jeffersonian image of a nation of “yeoman farmers” was cast as the backbone of independence and democracy, while being indebted to a landlord was considered by republicans like Adams and Hamilton to be too close the old feudalism of Europe[i]. But then, as now, the promise and ideal of homeownership was not received equally among the population. “Yeoman farmers” was never meant to include slaves, who were precluded from any and all American dreams from the beginning. While slavery was abolished in most Northern states by the end of the 18th century, the growth of cotton agribusiness demanded ever more slave labor in the South. Slaves could not own property and were housed as necessary to protect the investment of the slaveowner and allow for another day’s worth of labor extraction. As time went on and the population grew, poor white tenant farmers in the South and immigrants, free blacks, and other non-wealthy workers living in industrial cities of the North crammed into small living spaces with other families, paying exorbitant rents to live amongst filth and disease.
By the mid-1850s, with Westward expansion following the Mexican-American War, small farmers displaced by large plantations and industrial workers seeking a better life started moving West and demanding access to land. There were multiple attempts to pass homesteading legislation, but both Southern interests fearing the formation of majority-abolitionist states and Northern interests fearing a mass-exodus of industrial workers shot them down. With the secession of the Southern states, however, the Homestead Act of 1862 was finally passed. The Act allowed for ownership of 160 acres of land after five years, provided that the land was “improved upon”, including the building of a dwelling at least 12 by 14 feet in size[ii]. More than 1.6 million homestead applications were processed by 1934[iii]. The more than 270 million acres given away during this time went exclusively to whites with only a handful of exceptions[iv]
The Southern Homestead Act (SHA) was enacted in 1866 to make land available to freed slaves and loyal whites after the end of the Civil War. 46 million acres of government-owned land – that had been up to that point impossible to sell due to its undesirability – in Alabama, Arkansas, Florida, Louisiana, and Mississippi was made available for homesteading[v]. Although ex-Confederates were not allowed to participate for the first six months of the SHA, most freed blacks had already signed labor contracts that prevented them from taking advantage of that lead time (violating a labor contract would send a freed black right back to involuntary servitude according to the 13th Amendment)[vi][vii]. Additionally, “white resistance to black landownership; fraud; mismanagement by government officials; and homesteaders’ lack of adequate farm implements, other capital, and access to credit” are all considered factors that led to the failure of the SHA, which was repealed after only ten years[viii]. The end result was that “only 4,000 to 5,500 African-American claimants ever received final land patents from the SHA”[ix].
The Rise of Housing Finance Through the Great Depression
By the early 1900s, homeownership was growing (slowly) but still at less than 50% nationally (20% for blacks[x]) as mortgage lending became more popular. Census data shows that these rates varied widely among states in 1900, from only 24% in Washington DC to 80% in North Dakota[xi]. The housing finance and building industries were just beginning to gain footing and were much different than they are today. Mortgages were a strictly private market affair with much shorter amortization (typically just 5-11 years) and down payments were much higher (as much as 50%)[xii]. More often than acquiring a mortgage to cover the entire cost of a house, homes were typically bought or built using a combination of cash, savings, and small personal loans (sometimes in addition to a smaller mortgage)[xiii]. Homeownership was something reserved primarily for the upper classes or those who had benefitted from homesteading, but with the growth of the residential construction industry and early suburbanization there were pockets of the industrial working class that were able to purchase their homes as well. While the US government was not explicitly involved with housing markets just yet, the Russian Revolution (1917) sparked pro-homeownership campaigns by both realtors associations and the US Department of Labor to fight the specter of communism among the working class at home[xiv].
At the same time, The Great Migration (1915-1930) was well underway as nearly 2 million blacks left the ongoing racial violence, lynchings, and unemployment of the South for increased opportunities in the North’s industrialized cities. The population of blacks in Chicago increased fivefold during this time, more than tripled in New York City and Philadelphia, and Detroit’s black population increased from 6000 to more than 120,000, to name a few examples[xv]. This influx of black workers to the cities naturally increased competition for jobs and housing at a time when rental housing for low-income people was already at a deficit, leading to overcrowding and slum conditions, as well as unemployment. Even before postwar suburbanization and the racially restrictive deeds underwritten by the Federal Housing Act, white real estate industry stakeholders (realtors, lenders, lobbyists, etc.) responded to this influx of black workers with the narrative that blacks moving into white neighborhoods would bring down property values and cause the neighborhoods to deteriorate. This narrative became part of the official policy of the National Association of Real Estate Boards in 1924, when it adopted a code of ethics “stating that ‘a Realtor should never be instrumental in introducing into a neighborhood … members of any race or nationality … whose presence will clearly be detrimental to property values in that neighborhood’”[xvi]. It is important to remember that it is these same (white) real estate industry stakeholders – along with banking, residential construction, and government officials – that came together nearly ten years later to write that Federal Housing Act.
When the Great Depression hit, it took the entire mortgage industry down with it because there was no federal regulation or insurance of mortgages at the time. Once unemployment started rising and people were no longer able to pay their mortgages, foreclosure became widespread and millions of people lost their homes[xvii]. By 1934, more than 50% of mortgages were delinquent[xviii]. Individual families and banks weren’t the only housing sector actors that were hit hard by the Great Depression. The residential construction sector was decimated as well: residential permits for all construction fell by 93 percent between 1928 and 1933, which had repercussions all along that supply chain[xix]. By the time Roosevelt took office in 1933, the entire residential housing sector was in shambles. Early in 1934 Roosevelt introduced the Federal Housing Act (FHA) and Congress passed it in June.
While the New Deal in general and the FHA in particular are thought of with great nostalgia nearly fifty years since the dawn of neoliberal policy, their roots seem less populist and more privatist[xx] then popularly imagined, not to mention cast through the lens of white supremacy and exclusion. Even before the Great Depression (and then culminating with Hoover’s Conference on Home Building and Home Ownership in 1931), political leaders and powerful members of the real estate, banking, and building industries were meeting to come up with a new housing policy “that would stabilize and protect property values in new and older residential developments, increase consumer demand, and exempt income on mortgage investments from federal taxes”[xxi]. The result of this strategic partnership is evident in the system of housing finance created by the FHA that propped up and protected private mortgage companies, while encouraging homeownership among the middle and working classes[xxii]. By creating self-amortizing mortgages insured by the federal government, requiring low down-payments (10% vs. the previous 50% or more) and would be paid off over a long period of time (20-30 years vs. the previous 5-7 years), homeownership indeed became a possibility for a huge portion of the population that previously couldn’t afford it. At the same time “it created the illusion of ownership through the reality of debt[xxiii].
The real estate and construction lobbies certainly had the most power and influence at this time, as evidenced by the final homeowner-focused FHA legislation, but there were certainly reformers and “progressives” who advocated for municipal housing as a solution to the housing crisis[xxiv]. After World War I, many cities in Europe built thousands of units of social housing to meet the needs of the swelling industrial working class. Architects, city planners, and housing reformers from the United States toured and were inspired by these often very-large-scale municipal projects, and they came home prepared to make their case. These housing reformers envisioned dense inner-city slums replaced with large-scale municipal housing blocks with interior gardens – attractive and stable housing for the middle and working classes[xxv]. While this grand vision of municipal socialism inspired these public housing activists, their approach was very top-down rather than a mass-movement, so when they lobbied Congress to pass a housing bill that included subsidized loans for cooperatives and slum-clearance, slum-clearance was the much stronger argument among the various political factions in Washington (many of them very conservative). The final version, The Wagner-Steagall Bill of 1937, was greatly watered-down and focused on slum-clearance and housing the very poorest in the most-economical way possible. This was partly due to the resistance of legislators to anything remotely resembling socialism, partly because the real estate lobby and Roosevelt himself did not want to dampen middle-class demand for single family homes, and partly because appeals for public housing never actually came from the mass of people that needed it[xxvi].
Postwar Suburbanization and the Struggle for Full Citizenship
It took the end of World War II for these new longer-term government-backed mortgages to gain hold, as the modest savings accumulated during the war could now function as a down payment for a single-family home. Over the next twenty years, 30 million new housing units were built, and the homeownership rate increased from 40% to 60%[xxvii]. Suburbanization was not just a by-product of these new government programs, it was the goal. The combination of strict land-use requirements attached to FHA loans and the sudden availability of billions of dollars to finance home construction favored large companies with the ability to build at a scale never before seen in areas outside of cities where there was space. Congress passed the G.I. Bill in 1944 which made buying a home even cheaper for returning war veterans (through the FHA-VA), in many cases making the down payment for a house down to $0. Both the FHA and the FHA-VA had strict geographic requirements and would only back mortgages in exclusively white neighborhoods, meaning that home buyers desiring to live in “communities of color, integrated neighborhoods, or urban neighborhoods”[xxviii] (read: non-whites) were routinely denied mortgages. Popularly known as “redlining”, the FHA gave white neighborhoods an A (highest) rating (blue), black neighborhoods a D (lowest) rating (red), and neighborhoods bordering black neighborhoods or with Jewish residents only a slightly better rating in between the two: B and C (blue and yellow, respectively)[xxix]. FHA policy dictated that insurance would not be provided to homebuyers in red neighborhoods and lenders followed suit by denying loans to anyone seeking a loan deemed “too risky” for insurance by the FHA[xxx]. There are examples of black bankers, the NAACP, and other activists challenging these appraisals, as well as attempts to set up black mortgage companies, but land contracts soon became a primary means for black homebuyers to finance homes in the only neighborhoods they were permitted to buy in[xxxi].
The FHA’s Underwriting Manual also made explicit rules to prevent low-income and non-white home buyers from accessing the new suburban single-family homes, requiring racially restrictive covenants to be written into all deeds and emphasizing racial and economic homogeneity as a means to keep neighborhoods “stable”. The result is that less than 2% of the FHA-backed home loans issued from 1945-1955 went to blacks[xxxii]. In 1948, the NAACP challenged these racially-restricted deeds and won in the Supreme Court (Shelley v. Kraemer)[xxxiii], but the practice remained intact through the actions of realtors and lenders using blockbusting, coded language, informational steering and economic filtering[xxxiv], as well as white homeowners using Homeowners Associations (HOAs), activism and outright violent tactics to prevent nonwhites from moving into their neighborhoods[xxxv].
The New Deal provided money for slum clearance and public housing, but the FHA and FHA-VA far eclipsed that spending and most of the planned public housing never came to be. The result was that it became cheaper to buy a new single-family house in the suburbs then to rent in the city where there was a shortage of rental housing – if you were white. The Federal Highway Act of 1944 allowed federal money to be used for the first time within city boundaries and led to the Interstate Highway Act of 1956 which gave more than $13 billion to fund 5,500 miles of highways in urban areas[xxxvi]. Much has been written about how these highways sliced through urban neighborhoods, making the commute for white professionals moving to the suburbs possible while increasing racial segregation in the urban core. I mention them here to add them to the tally of federal tax dollars spent to subsidize homeownership in comparison to that spent to develop multifamily public housing. The Housing Act of 1949 appropriated funding with a mandate to provide “a decent home and a suitable living environment for every American family”[xxxvii] and the goal of creating 810,000 units of public housing, but there wasn’t nearly enough money for such an ambitious goal. In the end 425,000 low-rent units were demolished and replaced by 125,000 primarily luxury units via “urban renewal”, while the new highways destroyed at least 330,000 low-rent units, primarily in Black neighborhoods. By 1959 only 200,000 units of public housing originally mandated by the 1949 act had been built and 97% of those units built on slum-clearance areas were inhabited by non-white households[xxxviii] – essentially warehousing those most vulnerable and least-likely to qualify for a mortgage in any neighborhood.
Inflation, Market Reform and Privatization
From a financial perspective, the new system of mortgages created through FHA policy had some serious problems that contributed to instability in the overall economy. Because mortgage lending became such a significant part of economic activity and grew three times faster than both GDP and disposable income, the consumer’s ability to repay the debts was reduced, which in turn slowed down future economic growth. Another weakness is that the entire housing industry became dependent on the availability of credit through the mortgage system, making the costs related to buying or renting any new or used property sensitive to – and therefore directly impacted by – changes in interest rates. This vulnerability to interest rates would go on to affect “thrift institutions” – the savings and loan associations and mutual savings banks that did most of the mortgage lending to individual homebuyers – when inflation peaked in the 1960s and there was no longer a steady stream of depositors to fund future mortgages. Galvanizing the popularity of debt-financed homeownership – despite these inherent instabilities – was the mythology that solidified around this time that cast homeownership as the center of The American Dream[xxxix]. This had the effect of favoring homeownership over renting in the popular imagination and in public policy for generations to come, as will be discussed further on.
By the late 1960s, urban deindustrialization began to take hold[xl], and savings deposits dropped as unemployment and inflation started growing, creating a crisis in the mortgage market. Interest rates remained low (being as they were federally regulated and kept artificially low to encourage more mortgage lending) while inflation kept going up, leading to a situation where wealthy households decided to move their money from thrift institutions to other investments that paid a higher rate of interest. Thrift institutions responded by borrowing even more money from The Federal Home Loan Bank[xli], at first to fund new mortgages and then just to stay afloat[xlii]. In response, mortgage interest rates began to climb and the federal government was again in the position to mitigate this crisis with policy. As part of the Housing Act of 1968 and The Emergency Home Finance Act of 1970, Fannie Mae was privatized in an effort to stimulate the secondary mortgage market (comprised of big institutional investors such as pension funds, insurance companies, and large commercial banks[xliii]), Ginnie Mae (the Government National Mortgage Association) was created (as part of HUD) “to provide the government’s full financial guarantee to mortgage-backed securities (MBSs) issued by private companies holding FHA and VA mortgages[xliv], and Freddie Mac (The Federal Home Loan Mortgage Corporation) was created to purchase mortgages from thrift institutions and mortgage companies. This made it possible for mortgages to be pooled together and traded by big institutional investors in the same way stocks or bonds, but with considerably more security coming from government insurance and the idea that most people pay their mortgages, making them safe for investors and lucrative for raising the capitol needed to originate even more mortgages[xlv].
Federal policy shifted from the public and more towards the private regarding the system of providing public housing by the 1960s. In a renewed effort to carry out the goals of the Housing Act of 1949 in the wake of the Civil Rights Movement, there was also a devolution of responsibility for public housing from the federal to the state and city level with policy instruments that favored private rental markets. This began quietly in 1965 with the establishment of the US Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) and continued with the Housing Act of 1968, which “[reaffirmed] the 1949 goal with quantified production targets and timetable, new housing subsidy programs generously funded, planning requirements aimed at dispersing low-income housing throughout metropolitan regions, and even a new fair housing act outlawing racial discrimination”[xlvi]. This was to be carried out by offering financial incentives to developers supplying the affordable housing units rather than direct government provision of them[xlvii]. Section 235 of the Act was supposed to accomplish the admirable goal of helping poor and non-white people to purchase homes by offering subsidies to private sector developers. More than 400,000 families bought houses in the first few years of this program, however, subsequent studies show that most of housing built under this program was built in the suburbs and purchased by white homebuyers[xlviii]. Section 235 not only reinforced racial segregation, but ultimately enabled real estate speculators to perform cosmetic renovations to dilapidated houses, resell them to low-income black buyers in previously redlined neighborhoods (with the government assuming all the risk), and forcing these homeowners to abandon their properties when the full weight of major structural repairs they couldn’t afford came crashing down [xlix]. President Richard Nixon, with the support of a Democratic Congress, led HUD to fully embrace supply-side housing solutions in January 1973, imposing a moratorium on subsidies for the construction of public housing. The hard turn away from direct provision of housing towards privatization and local subsidies as the federal affordable housing strategy was memorialized in the Housing Act of 1974, which authorized funding for Section 8 programs aimed at directly subsidizing both the rents of low-income tenants as well as the housing units set aside for them – both in the private housing market[l]. Nearly 2 million units of privately-owned public housing was developed in the 1970s through these programs, however, many saw them as “expensive bribes to lenders and developers” and they often came with the option for owners to prepay their mortgage and charge market rates after 20 years[li].
From Equal Opportunity to Deregulation and Early Revanchism
Throughout the Civil Rights era, the right to housing became more and more prominent in the campaigns of organizations from the Black Panthers, Brown Berets, and Young Lords, to various tenant and anti-segregationist groups that sprouted up all over the country[lii]. Housing activists continued to challenge discriminatory and racist housing practices and policies in the 1970s. The federal government eventually stepped in once again in to address the persistent issue of racial discrimination in the mortgage and real estate industries that prevented nonwhites from attaining homeownership. The Equal Credit Opportunity Act of 1974 criminalized discriminatory lending, the Home Mortgage Disclosure Act of 1975 (HMDA) required lenders to publish data on the demographics of who is granted and denied loans, and the Community Reinvestment Act of 1977 required lenders with FDIC insurance to provide mortgages in the communities they serve, regardless of income level[liii][liv]. By 1980 the homeownership rate hovered around 44% for blacks and 42% for Latinos, while it rose to 68% for whites, which speaks to the limited success of such homeownership-focused housing policy for nonwhite home buyers in a racialized system[lv]. As the lagging rate of homeownership for nonwhites at this time shows, most nonwhite Americans continued to be renters, and as such struggled for a right to housing as tenants advocating for self-defense against eviction and slumlords, and for more affordable housing.
One aspect of the Community Reinvestment Act of 1977 that was less-focused on spurring homeownership and yielded positive results in the development of affordable housing was the funding of Community Development Corporations (CDCs). Together with the 1966 Special Impact Amendment to the Economic Opportunity Act, more than $500 million in federal money was provided to CDCs for the construction and rehabilitation of affordable housing[lvi]. While the relationship between the goals of groups engaging in community organizing around tenant rights and the development goals of CDCs is complex and sometimes contradictory, there are several examples of the two types of organizations working together to create participatory processes and hybrid organizations that were able to resist professionalization and top-down leadership of the development process[lvii]. While CDCs gained prominence by the late 1970s, tenant organizations in both the private market and public housing sectors were organizing at the national level through organizations such as the National Tenants Union (NTU) and the National Tenants Organization (NTO), as well as ACORN, National Peoples Action, and the Center for Community Change, which struggled for and won many local housing justice victories (although with limited impact at the national level)[lviii].
By the late 1970s, the economic decline stemming from diminished postwar demand[lix], US involvement in the Vietnam war[lx], labor and civil rights victories that increased wages for working class people, inflation, and trade deficits picked up speed and created another crisis in housing finance. Two “oil shocks” (in 1973 and 1979) cut off access to oil in the US and other industrialized nations, which led to high rates of inflation and eventually a recession[lxi]. The savings deposit withdrawal and interest rate control issues that plagued the housing finance markets starting in the 1960s persisted through the 1970s and intensified in the 1980s, as the government responded to the recession by raising interest rates and limiting industrial production. The predictable result was high unemployment and high construction interest rates, which in turn led to decreased demand for housing. 22 percent of federally-insured thrift institutions failed or were acquired by other institutions[lxii].
The push for deregulation that started in the 1950s finally reached fruition with the Depository Institutions Deregulation and Monetary Control Act of 1980 (DIDMCA) and the Garn-St. Germaine Act of 1982. Together these bills put an end to federal control of interest rates, allowed the thrift institutions to invest beyond mortgage markets, permitted variable-rate mortgages, and provided bailouts for thrift institutions that were insolvent. Thrift institutions were now able to divest themselves of their middleclass homeownership mission while maintaining the backing of the federal insurance – a mixture that would prove fatal for many thrifts as they began recklessly investing in high-risk financial products until they were insolvent and ultimately collapsed in 1988. Fortunately for the mostly-wealthy investors who sustained huge losses from the collapse, the Financial Institutions Reform, Recovery, and Enforcement Act (FIRREA) was passed the following year, and hundreds of billions of taxpayer dollars bailed them out[lxiii]. Unfortunately for the rest of the country, this latest series of lending reforms and massive bailouts did not solve the problem of housing affordability or make the mortgage markets any more secure for homeowners.
If the 1993 election of Rudolf Giuilani and his “quality of life” to the seat of Mayor in NYC can be seen (per Neil Smith) as evidence of neoliberal revanchism[lxiv][lxv] at the urban scale, it’s easy to see the 1980 election of Ronald Reagan to the presidency as evidence of early neoliberal revanchism at the national scale. Reagan’s election solidified a cross-class coalition of conservative responses to the Civil Rights, feminist, and black freedom movements, the perceived anti-americanism of the anti-war movement, and the economic turmoil that resulted from the OPEC oil embargos[lxvi]. Deregulation, inflation, and unemployment had a real material effect on middleclass whites, but their commitment to white supremacy took precedence over these material concerns and the mounting Conservative movement exploited it. In the realm of housing policy this meant an attack on government programs to help the urban poor in general, and an attack on HUD in particular[lxvii]. A racialized and gendered discourse of “worthiness” came to permeate welfare policy debates at the time as the myth of the “welfare queen” came to justify punitive cuts to social welfare programs as well as increased surveillance and incarceration: “We needed a reason to reduce resources to the poor and what better way than to use the notoriously lazy black woman as a scapegoat. She was the personal manifestation of a lazy well-fed government that had produced no profits and was the reason for the country’s economic decline[lxviii].
At the end of the second Reagan term in 1989, HUD’s budget had been reduced by nearly 72% and has never since recovered[lxix]. In the place of the (relatively) progressive social ambitions of the 1960s and 1970s, the urban poor got the War on Drugs whose spidery reach pervaded the totality of their lives. As part of the War on Drugs, The Anti-Drug Abuse Act of 1988 contained provisions specifically aimed at public housing residents, granting “public housing agencies the authority to use leases to evict any tenant, household member, or guest engaged in criminal activity on or near public housing premises”[lxx]. Housing officials could (and still can) use their own discretion when it came time to decide which crimes made a person worthy of denial and even more, made their children worthy of denial by proxy (resulting in a loss of custody). Because blacks and Latinos were the primary targets of the War on Drugs, this policy disproportionately affected them despite higher rates of drug use among whites[lxxi]. The Anti-Drug Abuse Act of 1988 arguably stripped public housing residents of their Constitutional right to substantive due process, however, since the Supreme Court did not and does not recognize a right to housing as fundamental, so legislation that infringes on that right is only subject to minimum scrutiny[lxxii].
Financialization, The Great Recession, and The End of Public Housing
The recession that began in the late 1980s gave way to the greatest economic expansion in history through the 1990s, only to be followed by a recession following the burst of the dot-com bubble in 2001 and the Great Recession in 2007. The neoliberal project picked up momentum throughout these years as advances in information technology, communication, and shipping allowed for the expansion of the finance, insurance, and real estate industries. Capital was delinked from place and was set free to roam about the world in search of the cheap labor, lax regulations, and the greatest return on investment. Entirely new economies were born in the technology and service sectors as the industrialized nations became post-industrial, relocating most manufacturing to former colonies in the Global South[lxxiii]. It would be impossible to capture the full breadth and depth of the ongoing process of neoliberalism as it pertains to real estate finance and housing policy in the United States with any brevity, so I will try to just give an overview of the effect of financialization and globalization on the evolution of mortgage markets, as well as the effect of austerity and privatization on public housing.
The banking system as we know it today came of age in the 1990s when barriers to global trade and communication were broken down by technological advances (especially the internet) and international agreements. The former system of postwar housing finance had been one that facilitated the relationship between borrowers and lenders and was perennially vulnerable to fluctuations in deposit levels. Borrowers were connected to global finance markets through the new system, solving the problem of credit-rationing while also creating new vulnerabilities[lxxiv]. For this system of home financing to be profitable, however, there was a need for an ever-growing pool of borrowers to access this newly-available credit. This was not difficult in the United States where the ideological commitment to homeownership runs deep across the entire population, and where there was a largely untapped pool of potential borrowers to bring into the fold: black and Latino renters who had been historically blocked from acquiring mortgages due to redlining and white resistance to integration. When home sales stalled in the 1990s[lxxv], the federal government responded with legislation designed to increase minority homeownership by working with the real estate finance industry to come up with private market solutions[lxxvi]. Wall Street responded with new home financing products that removed barriers erected by the old banking system and connected borrowers to the easy credit available in the global finance markets – in essence fulfilling both global and national market needs for financial growth while “solving” the affordable housing problem outside of the shrinking welfare state.
Easier access to credit meant that purchasing new homes, renovating existing ones, and refinancing old mortgages to take advantage of inflated home values was within the reach of people – both minorities and lower income people – that did not have that option before. The result was that the homeownership rate for blacks increased by 25% and for Latinos by more than 60% from the mid-1990s until the market crashed[lxxvii]. People started to feel house-rich, fueling consumer spending even as actual wages had been stagnant for more than twenty years by the mid-2000s[lxxviii]. This was accomplished using riskier lending products that back-loaded the risk of foreclosure onto the individual borrower while offering low or no down payment, “teaser” interest rates that ballooned after a period, and lax underwriting criteria (the information that determines a borrower’s creditworthiness). To buy and sell these mortgages on the global market, their risk for default had to be spread around. Mortgage-backed securities (MBSs), which were formerly traded only in the national market, were integrated into the global economy in ever more complex amalgams that allowed investors to pool risk across borders at different rates of return and little oversight as to how likely any given loan was to be repaid[lxxix][lxxx]. Collateralized debt obligations (CDOs) and synthetic derivatives made even more money available to borrowers lacking credit and savings[lxxxi]. This new access to credit might have fueled the economy but it did not result in higher wages and when the market crashed in late 2007, it was black and Latino borrowers that were the hardest hit as foreclosures skyrocketed.
During the recession (2007-2010) there were about 3.8 million foreclosures[lxxxii]. Homeownership rates among blacks and Latinos returned to the levels they had hovered at since the 1990s – 28% lower than whites for blacks and 25% lower than whites for Latinos by 2010[lxxxiii][lxxxiv]. In the aftermath of the Great Recession, blame has been cast on the government, the housing finance industry, and greedy or uneducated borrowers who got in over their heads. While each of these elements share some of the responsibility to varying degrees and the rise of the subprime mortgage market has had profound effects on loan origination, recent research suggests that many minority borrowers who would have qualified for prime mortgages were steered towards riskier and predatory loans by the subprime market channels. This analysis by Reid et al. provides strong evidence that the historical legacy of housing discrimination by race in this country interacted with the subprime mortgage market in ways that had real material effects for black and Latino borrowers[lxxxv]. Data shows that “between 2007 and 2010, the average Black and Latino households lost three and four times more wealth, respectively, than the average White household”, and that the racial wealth gap between whites and blacks is set to grow from about $500,000 in 2013 to over $1 million by 2043[lxxxvi].
The globalization of real estate and finance markets since the 1990s didn’t just make credit available for borrowers looking to buy a house. It also made it easy to invest in real estate around the world, particularly in cities. In the US, many urban areas that were experiencing growth for the first time since white flight had shrunk the population, experienced an influx of private capital investment. This flood of global capital has changed the face of cities and reoriented their real estate, planning, and policy goals to attract more investment, and gentrification has been the result. Gentrification was once thought of as a highly-localized phenomenon involving middle-class people moving into working class neighborhoods and changing the culture and structures to reflect their own desires, but contemporary gentrification is better understood as part of these wider political and economic shifts happening in advanced capitalist countries resulting from this international movement of capital. Increasing land values in urban centers ripple outward through adjoining neighborhoods, raising property values as investors and developers race to fill the demand for single-family homes and condominiums brought by higher-income buyers. These working-class neighborhoods had already been experiencing the consequences of capital flight to the suburbs and “developing nations” for more than a generation by the mid-2000s: deteriorating physical structures, abandoned properties, the disappearance of jobs, and withdrawal of state services, all of which contributed to neighborhood devalorization[lxxxvii].
As investment drives property values in working-class neighborhoods up, rents go up, leading to the displacement of those residents whose wages have been stagnant since the 1970s. The rent gap describes this long cycle of disinvestment, devalorization, reinvestment, and displacement that seeks to extract as much profit as possible from a property over time[lxxxviii][lxxxix]. While this definition might seem self-evident to anyone who has ever been priced out of a neighborhood or who accepts the basic premise that rising real estate prices will eventually result in higher rents, the crucial difference is that the rent gap is firmly situated in a capitalist geography of uneven development whereby “physical deterioration and economic devalorization of inner-city neighborhoods is a strictly logical, ‘rational’, outcome of the operation of the land and housing markets”.
This is the increasingly competitive market-driven landscape upon which current housing policy is built and the struggle for housing justice is carried out. Since the Great Recession, Congress has passed a great deal of legislation aimed at ameliorating particular injustices in the system, while also bailing out major institutional players in the system and continuing to divest from public housing. Black and Latino home buyers with adequate credit continue to be turned down for mortgages, even in the very neighborhoods they grew up in[xc]. As has been discussed previously, public housing policy in the United States shifted in the 1980s from a federally-funded and publicly-managed system of housing provision, to a system comprised of public-private partnerships that use a variety of market-based strategies and limited public funding to develop affordable housing[xci]. Rental housing assistance is now primarily tied to the individual renter in the form of vouchers, which are used to secure housing in the private market (and whose funding continues to be cut as well)[xcii]. In the current moment, Public Housing Authorities across the nation are using a variety of strategies to secure private and public funding to meet increasing demands for affordable housing through the private market. While these strategies have resulted in the development and (temporary) preservation of essential low-income rental units, their market orientation means that they will always be subject to the ups and downs of the real estate market, in particular rising property values in cities.
The commodity value of housing in the United States has taken precedence over its use value for many generations. Because of this, American housing policy has grown less likely to demand housing as a right, and more likely to focus on access within the confines of the private market. Struggles over affordable housing take place an increasingly small economic playing field, as most people have come to embrace the mantra that “there is no alternative”. Housing advocates are left scrambling to figure out how to make a few units of below-market-rate rental housing profitable and mortgages more accessible, while activists build campaigns around bad actors in the system. To move from a reactionary position that engages in struggle over the few available crumbs allowed by the status quo, to a position that demands housing equity and reparations, it is crucial to understand how we got here and why private market solutions have failed and continue to fail nonwhite and working-class people. The rent gap as a predictive model of displacement remains contested in the academic literature due to the difficulty of measuring it[xciii], however, when we take a long historical look at housing policy over time in the United States and take into consideration its highly-racialized landscape, we can start to see the extent to which the cultural celebration of homeownership and political commitment to the private market have created the housing crisis as we experience it today. We must remember that none of these processes happened in a vacuum or without the support and financing of the state. Our imaginations must not be limited by the amplified voices of the real estate finance, development, and construction industries whose sole mission is to redistribute wealth upwards for investors. Instead, let us build a movement for housing justice that demands a right to housing that de-centers homeownership and the exchange value of housing, while struggling for decommodification, racial justice, and new forms of wealth creation.
[x] Collins, William J. and Robert A. Margo (1999) “Race and Homeownership: 1900 to 1990”. NBER Working Paper Series. National Bureau of Economic Reporting. http://www.nber.org/papers/w7277.pdf. Retrieved 4/5/2018.
[xx] Ibid. Gotham describes privatism as “the underlying commitment by the public sector to helping private business grow and prosper. It is an entrenched and deep-rooted belief in the supremacy of the private sector in nurturing societal development, with the public sector adopting a “hands-off” (laissez-faire) strategy whose principal obligation is to encourage capital accumulation” (295).
[xxiv] von Hoffman, A., 2005. The End of the Dream: The Political Struggle of America’s Public Housers. Journal of Planning History, 4(3), pp.222–253.
[xxv] Ibid. there was a split among housing reformers about whether or not to include the very poorest in the housing plan. The more technocratic camp saw the poor as too risky and dooming the project to failure; the social workers advocated for integration.
[xxix] Satter, Beryl (2009) Family Properties: How the Struggle Over Race and Real Estate Transformed Chicago and Urban America. New York: Henry Holt and Co.
[xxx] Dickerson, Mechele (2014) Homeownership and America’s Financial Underclass: Flawed Premises, Broken Promises, New Prescriptions. New York: Cambridge University Press.
[xxxi] Land contracts were a means for black homebuyers shut out of the FHA-designed mortgage markets to finance the purchase of their homes. A real estate speculator would purchase a home in a black neighborhood and sell it “on contract” for a steep markup to a black buyer. These contracts made the buyer responsible for insuring and maintaining the property, while at the same time making them vulnerable to swift eviction and loss of equity in the event that they missed a payment (Satter 2009).
[xxxii] Hanchett, T. W. (2001). The other “subsidized housing”. Journal of Housing and Community Development, 58(1), 18-22+.
[xxxiii] Gonda, Jeffrey D. 2015. Unjust Deeds: The Restrictive Covenant Cases and the Making of the Civil Rights Movement, CHAPEL HILL: The University of North Carolina Press.
[xlvii] Achtenberg, Emily Paradise (2006) “Federally-Assisted Housing in Conflict: Privatization or Preservation?” in A Right to Housing: Foundation for a New Social Agenda. Philadelphia: Temple University Press.
[lvi] Bratt, Rachel G. (2006) “Community Development Corporations: Challenges in Supporting a Right to Housing” in A Right to Housing: Foundation for a New Social Agenda, Philadelphia: Temple University Press.
[lix] Hilfiker, M.D., David (2002) Urban Injustice: How Ghettos Happen. New York: 7 Stories Press. Europe and Japan, decimated in World War II, had finally rebuilt their manufacturing sectors and were now successfully competing with that of the United States.
[lx] Ibid. President Lyndon B. Johnson declared a “War on Poverty” in 1964, however, as the US became more embroiled in the Vietnam War, both resources and political will to implement the War on Poverty were diverted.
[lxi] Ranney, David C. (2014) New World Disorder: The Decline of US Power. CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform.
[lxiv] Lees, Loretta, Tom Slater, and Elvin Wyley (2008) “Genrification: Positive or Negative?” in Gentrification. New York City: Taylor Francis.
[lxv] Ibid. Revanchism, from the French word for revenge, is the term Neil Smith used to describe ‘a reaction against the supposed “theft” of the city, a desperate defense of a challenged phalanx of privileges, cloaked in the populist language of civic morality, family values and perceived neighborhood security’ [quoted from Smith, N. (1996) in New Urban Frontier].
[lxvi] Howison, J.D. & Ebook Central (2014). The 1980 presidential election: Ronald Reagan and the shaping of the American conservative movement. New York: Routledge.
[lxxii] Cazenave, Dean P. (1990) “Congress steps up war on drugs in public housing – has it gone one step too far?” Loyola Law Review, 36(1), pp.137–157.
[lxxiii] For background on neoliberalism see: Brown, W. (2015) Undoing the demos neoliberalism’s stealth revolution. New York: Zone Books; Harvey, D. (2005) A brief history of neoliberalism. Oxford ; New York: Oxford University Press; Saad-Filho, A. & Johnston, D. (2005) Neoliberalism : a critical reader. London ; Ann Arbor, MI: Pluto Press.
[lxxiv] Newman, K. (2015) Globalization of Finance and the Future of Home Mortgage Finance. Housing Policy Debate 25(4), pp.1–3.
[lxxv] Mortgage debt makes up such a large part of the US economy, that sustained periods of sluggish growth can slow down the entire economy.
[lxxvi] The Clinton White House developed the National Homeownership Strategy and the Bush II White House issued a National Homeownership Challenge after that.
[lxxxiv] Reid, C.K. et al. (2017) “Revisiting the subprime crisis: The dual mortgage market and mortgage defaults by race and ethnicity. Journal of Urban Affairs, 39(4), pp.469–487. 28% of blacks and 31% of Hispanics who purchased homes during the height of subprime lending were in or near foreclosure by 2013
Retrieved 4/21/2018. Rameau succinctly explains the rent gap theory in this essay: “Prior to the new round of capital investment, Actual Rent- the price of real estate for rent or purchase- is extremely low in the target inner city community, compared to the neighboring downtown and the distant suburbs. At the same time, the planned capital investments, and corresponding physical improvements, promise to dramatically increase the Actual Rent in years to come. This strong possibility of increased real estate values is the Potential Rent. The Rent-Gap is the difference between the Actual Rent and the Potential Rent”.
[xci] Kleit, R. & Page, S. (2015) “The Changing Role of Public Housing Authorities in the Affordable Housing Delivery System” in Housing Studies, 30(4). Federal funding for subsidized affordable housing declined by 48%, from $56.4 billion to $29.2 billion from 1976 to 2004 and federal funding for the operation and maintenance of its affordable housing stock fell by 25% between 1999 and 2006.
If you are reading this review, there is a good chance that you may be a gentrifier. Hopefully it also means that you are curious about your role in the process of gentrification and open to picking apart what exactly is meant when gentrification is used by academics, activists, and policy makers to describe particular types of urban development. If not you will have a bad time. There is much in this book that will be controversial, flying in the face of conventional wisdom and slogans about gentrification, demanding that those of us with some skin in the game depart from the well-worn paths of description and condemnation to demand something bigger: a transformative approach to housing and community development policy (199).
Gentrifier’s critiques and prescriptions are presented within an auto-ethnography of each of the author’s relationships to housing in gentrifying urban neighborhoods from Fort Greene, Brooklyn to Chicago, San Diego, and Providence, as their lives change from that of single grad students, to coupled renters, to middleclass professionals with families. These narratives offer critical insight into the housing decisions people make, even as they grapple with the ethics of particular choices and place differential values on particular variables over time. While this approach is humanizing in a discursive landscape that often treats gentrifiers as a homogenous group of bourgeois capitalists, its main purpose is to allow the authors to ask the type of complicated questions left unanswered by anti-gentrification purists: What makes our lives contented; what unsettles our households or families? How does the current form of capitalism actually effect lives? How do the politics of race shape our navigation of these processes? How do we unpack the anger, guilt, shallowness, and other emotions related to gentrification? (8). What makes these vignettes so controversial is that the middleclass urban transplant reader will recognize herself in many of them, whether she is an “anti-gentrification gentrifier” or a small business owner, and that reflection is an uncomfortable one to stare at. But stare we must, if we are to engage with the author’s contention that “understanding the motivations of gentrifiers (especially us) could be a way to affect the process of gentrification today outside the revolutionary structural changes that would bring ‘social ownership of housing…social control of land, the resident control of neighborhoods’ and other just allocations” (24).
To understand not just gentrifier motivations but those of anyone seeking housing, the authors introduce an analytical “multi-tool” to examine the complex interplay of structure and agency in these choices, the multi-tool implying an ability to “take apart, rework, and adjust their views on a complex, ever-changing process” (26). This multi-tool contains seven types of considerations that go into an individual’s housing choice: monetary, practical, aesthetic, amenity, community, cultural authenticity, and flexibility (28). The authors then proceed to examine their own “residential biographies” using this multi-tool, developing a blueprint of middleclass urban housing choices characterized by mobility and an unfolding of different life events over time. I found the choices the authors made related to neighborhood and schooling particularly interesting as I reflected on times in the past when I had asserted an overly simplistic view of the issue, taking a rigid “send kids to their local public school no matter what” stance informed more by ideology than a thoughtful exploration of the issue. Not that myself or the authors became boosters of charter or private schools by the end of the chapter, but the nuance of their stories helped shed light on both the internal struggles faced by parents as well as the disproportionate opportunities available to middleclass parents in gentrifying neighborhoods. This of course makes things even more contradictory and complex, but one can see hints of cross-class solidarity as a possibility given the broadly similar hopes and desires parents have for their children’s education.
Chapter three reviews the structural forces that have created, shaped, and abetted gentrification and the theorists and interlocutors who have had the greatest impact on the conversation. Those familiar with the gentrification literature will recognize Ruth Glass, Neil Smith, and Richard Florida among others. The authors engage these theorists at various spatial and economic scales, framing these intersecting and contradictory historical processes as the “De-“s and “Re-“s – that is, the negative ones implying a removal or denial of resources and power (deconcentration, devaluation, delinking, etc.) and the positive ones implying a new beginning or an engendering of some kind of growth (rebuild, revitalization, renaming, etc.). For those not familiar with the housing or gentrification literature, this chapter crucially reaches back past the first wave of gentrification (typically seen to be in the 1970s) to explore the tangled roots of contemporary gentrification in racial segregation, redlining, suburbanization, deindustrialization, HUD’s brief foray into public housing, poverty deconcentration and various urban revitalization regimes.
The authors then go on to tackle what is arguably the most contentious attribute of gentrification: displacement. Even more than changes to the cultural fabric of a neighborhood, displacement of both residents and local businesses are frequently cited as the defining negative attribute of gentrification (what Patch calls the “displacement thesis”). Yet again, the authors complicate the matter, this time in a bid to rescue the narrative from the displacement thesis and its geographic determinism (that demands that gentrifiers just “stop gentrifying”) to make room for “cross-class alliances” (119). Looking at both theoretical and empirical evidence, the authors find strong evidence that there isn’t a 1-to-1 relationship between increased property values and displacement and that there are actually many reasons why low income people may move that have more to do with changes in the global economy than gentrification. Instead, they engage a model that posits that “capitalism causes both gentrification and displacement and these two phenomena have interactive effects,” acknowledging that “capitalism rewards many growth strategies” (119). This matters because a doctrinaire focus on residential displacement obscures a much more critical issue facing low-income urban residents: a lack of affordable housing development in a market driven by the all-consuming housing demands of middleclass and rich urban transplants. I’m not sure this argument will convince someone whose rent is going up and who can’t find suitable housing in their neighborhood that gentrification isn’t causing their displacement; in the absence of a broad social movement that demands housing as a right for all, the default position becomes the absurd demand that gentrifiers just go home.
Chapter four lays out a typology of six different types of gentrifiers, which might seem like an academic version of The Hipster Handbook (for those of us who were gentrifiers in the mid-aughts) were it not for their explicit focus on understanding why and how gentrifiers change the cultural fabric of a neighborhood. And in all fairness they aren’t really trying to prove that every middleclass transplant to a gentrifying neighborhood is easily fits into one of these categories, so much as to find some common and contrasting threads among the varying motivations, political orientations, and economic positions gentrifiers carry with them into their new neighborhoods. Reading through these six different types, I immediately saw glimpses of myself, most of my city-dwelling friends, and many of the market-oriented urban planners found on message boards and at meet-ups. The description of The Curator hit closest to home because it describes the types of people most likely to be most interested in joining (or helping to organize) a social movement that makes the transformative – and indeed radical – demands for housing as a universal right. But The Curator is most often caught up in “displacement theory” and doesn’t actually see himself as a gentrifier due to his good intentions and desire to keep the neighborhood the way it is. Underlying this type is an overwhelming focus on authenticity – who has it, who doesn’t, how to best perform it in public – that casts the original “authentic” residents of the neighborhood as oppressed, which can result in a certain kind of white saviorism whereby these “non-gentrifier” gentrifiers participate in anti-gentrification activism onbehalf of their neighbors and ignore the “complex and sophisticated street-level networks” that exist all around (169). Bringing The Curator into conversation with the five other types, the authors demonstrate that they – we – all have in common the simple fact that we all serve as “disruptive forces in the economic, social, and cultural makeup of the neighborhood”, which means that there is no good-intentioning your way out of such disruption. Where the good intentions and progressive politics do matter, however, is when it comes to advocating for transformative housing policy, which is the subject of the final chapter.
This last chapter won’t disappoint with the controversial content, especially if you try to bounce some of the ideas therein off of your local anti-gentrification radicals. Before getting into the small handful of suggestions the authors characterize as having a transformative approach to housing and community development policy, the authors deconstruct several gentrification-related arguments that are typically put forward by anti-gentrification activists and academics, taking them to their logical end. If one is ideologically committed to any of these arguments, they will be hard to read and will likely elicit defensiveness. One of the great qualities of this book is that it gently but persistently calls on the reader to question her assumptions and reflect on her experiences throughout. In rejecting economic and geographic determinism, the authors problematize the “reform vs. revolution” binary and open up space for the reader to imagine different futures. The work of organizers and activists in Jackson, Mississippi with Cooperation Jackson, the alternative economy theoretical work of J.K. Gibson-Graham, and the radical municipalism of Barcelona en Comú come to mind as examples of people already operating within this framework but there are certainly many more. If the authors are successful, the reader will feel comfortable enough to walk towards this less-certain – yet prolific of possibility – place where we might begin to tackle the messy problem of affordable housing in the United States instead of just talking about it.
While the authors end on a positive note, pointing uncertainly towards the work that lies ahead, I want to circle back to the beginning of the book. It is significant that the authors chose noted critical urban planner Peter Marcuse to pen the forward to Gentrifier, building a bridge to Marcuse’s 2016 book with David Madden, In Defense of Housing (Verso). In Defense of Housing is a manifesto of sorts, digging into the roots of the global housing crisis and opening space for the radical possibility and demand for the defense of housing as a place to live instead of a real estate investment. “The way forward” according to Marcuse and Madden, “is to acknowledge the limits of formal rights to housing under the current legal and political system while at the same time pressing for a sufficiently broad, activist conception of those rights” (194). This definition of a right to housing moves beyond demands for legal protections or simply an increase in the number of affordable units built, and insists on democracy, decommodification, and dis-alienation. I was moved by these arguments but had a hard time seeing a way forward, as my own experience with urban housing movements and much of the current academic literature is that they are often defensively focused on “fighting” gentrification or eviction, with few generative housing demands. Gentrifier gives the reader some invaluable tools to unpack and defetishize gentrification and gentrifiers, enabling the reader – if she is open to it – to move from a defensive anti-gentrification stance towards an offensive stance that demands a democratic, transformative, and participatory approach to housing and community development.
Philadelphia had the highest poverty rate of all the big cities in the United States in 2016. According to Shared Prosperity, “28% of Philadelphians – between 430,000 and 440,000 people – live below the federal poverty level, including 39% (135,000) of children, 27% (250,000) of work-age adults and 17% (32,000) of seniors. This reflects a sharp increase from Philly’s 1960 low of 15.4% and a divergence from the national trend of slowly decreasing poverty (aside from the increase related to The Great Recession).
Poverty Rate (Philly)
Poverty Rate (US)
Source: Us Census Bureau
The historic poverty rate in Philadelphia and its uneven spatial distribution are interesting because the area of the city is quite large (141 square miles), but the increases and decreases in the poverty rate over time are concentrated in a handful of census tracts. I analyzed historic US Census Data in QGIS to analyze the change – both positive and negative – in poverty rates of Philly’s census tracts between 1970 and 2010. Predictably, census tracts in Center City and in the vicinity of the University of Pennsylvania saw the greatest decrease in poverty over those 40 years and census tracts in North Philadelphia neighborhoods such as Kensington and Juniata saw poverty increase by as much as 70% during that time.
This was preliminary research to get a feel for the distribution of poverty in Philadelphia and to start pulling apart the question of why the poverty rate is persistently high, in spite of the recent influx of more affluent residents and forty years of anti-poverty initiatives. In the future I intend to look at patterns of homeownership vs. tenancy in these areas, and to trace the history of public housing in Philadelphia.
I designed this map to be a poster-sized map that people in Philly could hang it on their wall and feel both inspired and called to action. Not only does it give people a sense geographically of where their various voting districts are, it also gives them relevant contact information so that they can put pressure on their elected officials when the moment calls for it. At the same time, the map calls attention to some of Philadelphia’s social movement assets, and marks locations that I see as spaces of hope in Philadelphia: worker cooperatives, independent book stores, and congregations affiliated with The New Sanctuary Movement and POWER (both of which I have been personally involved with). The Kickstarter did not pan out in the end, but I was able to raise more than $3,000 primarily from my own network of colleagues, friends, academics, and activists in a short period of time.
The purpose of this postcard was to advertise the newly-created Pennypack in the Delaware park. Because the Fairmount Park system in Philadelphia is so expansive, I focused on the excellent birding opportunities in this particular park due to its location – there are eagles’ nests here!