I was there when it still existed. I'm also the author of the piece.
We're not trying to make you feel bad that the projects were shut down. We are trying to convey:
* The scale of the process (the equivalent of relocating my entire hometown over the course of a decade).
* Some of what was gained and what was lost for residents
* The housing authority's demonstrated inability to meet their projections or deliver what they told residents they would.
* The story of the photographer, who responded to an act of violence by trying to understand where that violence might come from, and in the process documented a historic moment in American urban life.
Like I said, I worked there and I'm not nostalgic about it. I saw some truly awful stuff. But that doesn't mean there wasn't a huge social and personal cost to residents in dismantling that system. If that cost had been honestly reckoned with during the Plan For Transformation, some of the more egregious problems could have been avoided.
When I started working at public housing in the early 2000s, I came with this notion that people my age didn't have jobs or didn't work hard enough. What helping friends with their resumes taught me was folks often pursue jobs doggedly -- but because of their race, background, and education, find themselves in dead end work.
It seems to me the classic economic arguments you're making need to be turned around: In an environment where the options in the mainstream economy are unstable, low-reward work and you lack the capital to secure credit to get an education or make serious investments, wouldn't you think about joining the drug economy?
Also both the gangs and community groups were entirely capable of self-governing.
I agree that it's hard to prove that conclusion. I lived in Humboldt Park next door, right next to Section 8 buildings, and didn't have any issues related to the Section 8 folks. I think a more likely explanation is that affluent, rapidly gentrifying neighborhoods attract certain kinds of crime.
When I worked at the Chicago Tribune, I covered crime extensively and saw some distinct patterns that coincided with gentrification in Wicker Park: an increased concentration of night time crime, specifically theft and muggings, along Milwaukee avenue. Because crime is down on average, crime definitely did not go up in Wicker Park, but theft, assault, and battery did not go down as quickly as the average in the night life zones. That said, it seems very likely some former public housing residents caused trouble in some of their new neighborhoods.
Similarly, I had a petty thief from the projects once tell me that on 35th street, he saw me as either a drug buyer or a do-gooder, but either way it wouldn't make a lot of sense to mess with me. But if he saw me in Hyde Park, where I lived at the time, he would have seen me as "prey". I think it's safe to say that to some degree, affluent neighborhoods are targeted by criminals because they are affluent.
There are parallels here to mass transit. Minor theft is very high at downtown CTA stations, places with tremendous foot traffic and jostling bodies. It's one of the few crime categories that has seen some increase/very little decrease and it seems to track with the widespread use of smartphones.
Your comment also gets at some of the really tough questions of social ethics around these issues. For example: is it better to have more petty crime or to incarcerate people at unprecedented rates?
None of this stuff is easy, but the ways it is often framed -- like making unsubstantiated causal links between Section 8 and crime -- make the conversation that much harder.
Thanks! I'm the author of the story. The NPR Visuals team works really hard to make stuff that is substantial but that people still want to read online. Obviously we're still learning and have a long way to go, but I share your hope and we'd love your feedback on how to make it better. A goal is to figure out how to do long form using some of these techniques.
Absolutely. When I worked at Stateway Gardens in the 2000s, people would try to set up little businesses in the grassy spaces and were invariably shut down quickly by the police even while drugs were being sold openly 50 yards away.
We're not trying to make you feel bad that the projects were shut down. We are trying to convey:
* The scale of the process (the equivalent of relocating my entire hometown over the course of a decade). * Some of what was gained and what was lost for residents * The housing authority's demonstrated inability to meet their projections or deliver what they told residents they would. * The story of the photographer, who responded to an act of violence by trying to understand where that violence might come from, and in the process documented a historic moment in American urban life.
Like I said, I worked there and I'm not nostalgic about it. I saw some truly awful stuff. But that doesn't mean there wasn't a huge social and personal cost to residents in dismantling that system. If that cost had been honestly reckoned with during the Plan For Transformation, some of the more egregious problems could have been avoided.