Tuesday, August 27, 2019

A Lament for South Bend

South Bend Tribune Photo // Santiago Flores
(a response to the Common Council decision to turn down funding to build Permanent Supportive Housing units in a local neighborhood)

Today is not a proud day for South Bend.

I had hopes for South Bend, as a city that claims “progressive” values, but I’ve seen the other side too often.

Gateway Center?  “Love the idea, we really need it, but it should go somewhere else”

Sober Living House? “We really believe our city needs these, but suggest this other neighborhood as a better fit”

Permanent Supportive Housing? (PSH) “Yes! But not here.”

It turns out that South Bend is more just like the rest of humanity.  We generally want good things for others, but not when it comes at any significant cost to ourselves.

And I can’t fault people for looking out for themselves.  Heck, a Granger neighborhood just went apoplectic over the thought of Menards moving literally one block north.

But I somehow thought South Bend with its progressive values would be different.  It turns out we just like to learn about progressive values, then use progressive language to protect our interests, while making it seem like we’re really out for some greater good.

The progressive arguments were made: this neighborhood needs more investment and it would be racially unjust to put this upon them.  But is it really about racial justice? If so, why at the meeting I was at last week, was it mostly middle class white people speaking on their own behalf?  And name a neighborhood near downtown that has received more investment through the years than the near west side?  I can only think of the East Bank.  When we were doing development work in Keller Park years ago (another redlined neighborhood), we were told that there wouldn’t be redevelopment grants available for us because all of the investment was going to the NNN and SB Heritage (who was developing primarily in the near west at the time).  We’re talking about a prime focus area for SB Heritage as well as the home of Indiana Landmark.  We’re talking about a neighborhood that has seen sidewalk and curb and tree lawn upgrades through the years.  And we’re talking about an area that borders a neighborhood with literal historical mansions (indeed some of the opposition was coming from this part of the neighborhood). I’m not saying that this is comparable on any level to the development of the East Bank, but just to say that there has been significant investment already. (Compare that with the Far Northwest or Keller Park which have received little-to-no investment).  And if we’re going to say that a project like this is needed, and it needs to be near downtown for accessibility, and it needs to be in a neighborhood that has had some investment already...the area we’re talking about is probably in the top 2-3 locations I can think of.  Would the East Bank be better?  Sure.  But if we’re only going to use the absolute 1st choice ideals, nothing will ever get done, and our homeless neighbors suffer in the meantime.

The progressive arguments were made: PSH complexes are not AS GOOD as scattered site housing.  While this is true, I don’t believe these arguments were primarily made with the interest of our homeless neighbors in mind.  And while scattered site may be better, due to how grant monies are made available there wasn’t more money for that, while there is for this.  And in the meantime, we’re telling our homeless neighbors “we’re not going to build you housing, because it’s not optimal for you.  We’ll wait for something better.”  I’m not sure that would be heard as compassion.

The progressive arguments were made: there was environmental contamination in the past...we can’t put people there.  And while this was also possibly true, the city said that all remediation standards were met and they were promising to meet all future remediation standards if anything else came up.  But I have to ask, do the people raising these concerns also raise them for other development around town?  The Studebaker redevelopment?  The apartments by the baseball stadium?  The building on the east bank?  In an old industrial town, there are traces of contamination everywhere that we should take seriously.  And I applaud those who hold our leadership accountable for that.  But is this an example of legitimate concern for contamination by people so inclined? Or is this latching onto progressive language to stop something undesirable for different reasons, while absolving the guilt?

I am constantly haunted by Dr. King’s wisdom in his Letter from a Birmingham Jail:

“I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro's great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen's Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to "order" than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says: "I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action"; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man's freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a "more convenient season." Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.”

I can’t help but wonder if we have embraced the same moderate mindset towards our homeless or recovering neighbors.

Finally, my experience has come from intentionally living in complicated places.  Our cars were both shot up last year.  There are shell casings spray painted on my block from shooting two weeks ago.  We get about 4 quiet nights a week where yelling and screaming outside doesn’t keep us awake.  Don't get me wrong, it definitely isn’t easy.  I regularly dream of moving.  But to this point, I keep coming back with the reminder that I am a better human being due to the influence of my neighbors.  My children are more well-rounded and compassionate due to the experiences on our blocks through the years.  Yes, there is pain here, but there is strength in the midst of the pain and we do not want to miss that: the mom who has the strength to scrape life together to keep her kids moving forward, the formerly homeless neighbor who has become the grandfather of the entire block, the young couple just starting to figure out life on their own as adults.

And even in this lament, I recognize the goodness of those working for our hurting neighbors: those who show up on the streets and at the tent communities to make sure everyone is healthy and has an opportunity for warmth, those working for the service providers for too little money and for too long of hours, those crafting policy and scrounging for public funding even though it will likely get shot down in the end, and the neighbors who show up and speak on behalf of projects like this even in the face of opposition from those who live around them.

The complexity of life, both the pain and the joys, is beautiful.  My hope for South Bend is that we can become a city that embraces both with care.  My hope is that we will become a city that truly works for justice for others, even at great sacrifice to ourselves, because we realize we are all better off for it.