In “Defending the Cross-Subsidy Plan: The Tortoise Wins Again,” Janet Abu-Lughod writes, “In the East Village, although properties were too downscale to warrant private auctions and many residents were already so marginal to the economy that it collapse left them relatively unaffected, the wind was definitely out of gentrifiers’ sails” (314). I find the use of “sails” interesting and worthy of unpacking. When I read “sails,” I immediately thought that Abu-Lughod attempted to convey that gentrifiers go with the waves. But that idea was quickly dispelled once I discerned that gentrifiers are not solely new residents; they can also by city planners and real estate companies. I then concluded that gentrifiers flow from place to place. The person steering the boat is the gentrifier, the wind is the market and the boat/wind/waves/water is gentrification—they system that the gentrifier works/participates within.
The East Village underwent a massive transformation, which produced mixed results. Although the area was “improved,” there was displacement. The question I ask then is who is the city for and who can claim certain places? In “New City, New Frontier: the Lower East Side as wild, wild West,” Neil Smith describes the way West of 42nd street was “tamed,” “domesticated,” and “polished.” The real-estate industry is pinned as the impetus of such development. Abu-Lughod would argue that the best way to combat such development would be to mobilize people by getting them mad. If people do not recognize “urban scouts” (who are hired by the real-estate industry) searching for their next targets before they attack, then the attack, which is the buying up of land, displacement, and flipping homes, would be difficult to fight off. This reminds me of when I attended the “A Livable New York: The Future of Community Green Space and Affordable Housing.” In the talk, Alicia Boyd encouraged the audience members to get mad, which, at the time, I thought was not the best way to approach the situation surrounding the Elizabeth Street Garden. Now, though, I believe getting mad is a prerequisite for organizing and resisting gentrification. For example, after JPC activists were able to organize people by getting them mad, they dedicated themselves to creating alternative plans for city-owned properties and politicking at City Hall (321). I wonder if there were substantially more people at Tompkins Square Park if the city would have failed in “improving” the park. The park was the site of the first major anti-gentrification struggle and served as a “liberated space.” How far are people willing to go to fight for space? The Tompkins Square Park activists were pushed out through blunt police force and warded off when rat poison was sprayed. Are people willing to put their bodies on the line? Become a martyr? As a New Yorker, I don’t know if I can participate in such activism, which is vital to fighting gentrification. Everyone has mixed reactions to gentrification and once brought up, would lead to intense debates. The East Village has been fighting gentrification for years and although they have made great strides, are they just fighting against the inevitable?
You ask a really key question about resistance, which is, basically, why fight when the terms of the battle are unjust? Why fight if you know you’re going to lose? That’s a question people need to ask themselves individually, of course. But they also need to ask themselves what “winning” looks like? Does winning mean 100% victory or can it be something more reasonable? If we don’t get 100% affordable housing at a site, but we provide shelter to three families who would not have had it otherwise, is that success? I’m not sure whether any part of the Tompkins Square Park uprising was a “win,” but it is meaningful that, decades later, there are students in an NYU classroom reading about it and finding the city at fault, right? So maybe that’s success. What do you think?