Iowa City: Questions of Good and Evil?

Action
We were in Iowa City mainly to visit my friend Jaimie, but since I was in town, a professor at the university invited me to speak with a local social justice organization about progressive planning. Rather than deliver a formal talk, I tried to engage the organization’s members in discussion through a short participatory workshop. I proposed that we select a key inequitable local planning project or process, and then discuss more progressive alternatives by considering a series of questions:
1) Who benefits and who loses from the current project/process, and how?
2) How could the project/process be more equitable?
3) What should local activists do to help bring about more equitable approaches?

The first issue that the participants chose to discuss was a huge environmental education center, complete with an expansive rainforest biosphere and nature preserve, that was soon to be built near Iowa City. I asked who benefits and loses from the project, and for the next 15 minutes, people (mostly white, middle-age men) angrily discussed why the project would fail entirely (it would cost more than its budget, not create enough jobs, no one would come…).

I asked my initial question again, and an older woman responded that businesses in Coralville (the adjacent town where the center would be built) would benefit the most, from increased tourist business. A middle-age woman of color added that the center’s anticipated reliance on low-paying service jobs would benefit the center developers (by lowering labor costs) more than local workers (by not creating many living-wage jobs).

There were some murmurs of support, but then a couple of the participants who dominated the initial discussion changed the subject. They asserted again that the project will fail entirely, and that instead, we need to build mixed-use (residential and commercial) environmentally sustainable development oriented around transit, bikes, and pedestrians.

After several minutes of wandering discussion, some of us (intermittently) returned to the workshop questions, and we quickly discussed more equitable options for the project (reducing the center size and costs to free up funding for public housing and social programs, a living-wage guarantee for center employees, discounted ticket prices to make the center more accessible for low-income visitors…). Our allotted time ran out and several of the participants heartily thanked me for an interesting discussion, but I left feeling somewhat frustrated.

Reflection
Reflecting on what had happened, I first thought about workshop design techniques that might have led to a more productive discussion. If I had written the discussion questions and agenda on flipchart paper at the front of the room, would people have been more focused? If I had asked everyone to write their answers to the questions on paper before discussing them as a group, would there have been space for more different perspectives? That said, I had little time or funding to prepare for the event, and the meeting was very informal in nature, so preparing a more sophisticated process would have been difficult.

I then turned to the more fundamental problem bothering me: the tendency of many of the (especially but not exclusively) white male participants to reduce complex social and economic questions to polarized yes or no answers. At the Iowa City workshop, they proclaimed that the environmental project will either fail or succeed – rather than exploring how the project will actually ‘fail’ or ‘succeed’ for different groups and individuals, or envisioning different ways in which it might create more equitable jobs or education. This behavior reminded me of some of the national anti-Bush campaigns, which suggest that the solution to America’s problems comes down to the vote for or against George Bush – rather than exploring the complex economic, social, and political processes that have led to Bush’s policies, or envisioning how these policies might be altered through local democracy (Is a single national election the extent of our democratic decision-making?) or collective social action (Are individual elected politicians the only people who can change society?).

I still haven’t been able to put my finger on exactly what bothered me, or what to do about it, but I kept thinking about the type of questions asked and not asked. Renate mentioned that the simplifying questions asked (or answered) could be considered Manichean, in that they reduce complex situations to diametrically opposed notions of good and evil. I suggested various probing questions at the meeting (see above), as alternatives, but I’m sure that there are even better questions that I didn’t ask.

Question
What kind of questions should we ask to probe beyond Manichean or polarizing questions, to better understand and act on complex situations?

Chicago & Savannah: Photo-ops

Action

Josh and I in Millenium Park, Chicago.


Cloud Gate at Millennium Park, Chicago.


On September 18th, I was in Savannah, Georgia for the wedding of Jen and Alex. Their wedding ceremony lasted a simple and sweet twenty minutes. The wedding party spent at least one and a half hours before the wedding and half an hour after the wedding being photographed in a variety of poses and groupings. I took this one of Stacey after the ceremony.


Jen and Alex in the back of the trolley that transported the wedding party from the wedding to the reception. With this photo, I was attempting to pay homage to the last scene of “The Graduate.”

Reflection
So what do all these photos have in common? They’re all examples of places and events that facilitate photography as an activity. Millennium Park seems designed to create photo-ops. There were interesting sculptures and walkways with the skyline of Chicago providing a backdrop. Josh and I took more pictures walking around the park for half an hour than we did the two days we were in Ann Arbor. The picturesque nature of the place reinforced photo-taking as an activity. It became a social activity as well, with people offering to take pictures of one another. I also suspect that places designed for photo-ops generate tourism. I’ve gone to places that I’ve recognized from friends’ photo albums and then attempted to recreate their snapshots myself. Soon I imagine people will go to Millennium Park to replicate the delightful pictures Josh and I (and millions of other visitors) have taken there. Relatedly, my photo of Alex and Jen emulates a scene from a movie, rather than a friends’ photo album.

The wedding photos are a variation on the theme of picture taking as an activity in itself. A professional photographer took most of the photos that day, though, so they are of a higher quality than the average snapshot taken in Millennium Park. As much of our visit to Millennium Park was taken up with the activity of taking photos, during the wedding day, taking photos was a significant activity of the day.

Second, the Millennium Park photos and the wedding photos are rather artificial or at least non-representative of what they’re trying to represent. For example, the photos of Josh and I in Chicago don’t really represent what we did in Chicago. While we spent some time with our arms around each other smiling, we did much more than that. Similarly, wedding photos capture an artificial reality created by perfectly fitting gowns, professional hair styling and make-up complemented by scenic locales. The photo doesn’t really capture the love between Jennifer and Alex anymore than our photos with the Chicago skyline capture our travels. Yet, looking at these photos one immediately recognizes “Tourists in Chicago” and “Young Couple Ready to Spend Their Lives Together.”

Question
So if the photos don’t capture an actual moment, but rather an artificial one, why do we tend to frame these photos? What makes something a Photo-Op? How often do you take pictures? Do you consider photography a hobby of yours? Is there a difference between photography as activity, as hobby, and as art?

Ann Arbor, MI: Eco-Friendly Restaurants

Action
After an overnight train from Washington, DC to Ann Arbor and an afternoon exploring the university town, Josh and I joined two other friends for dinner at The Earthen Jar , an eco-friendly, vegetarian, Indian restaurant. Kim guided me through the experience. First, we went to the back to pick up clean plates, silverware and cups from a drying rack next to a sink. Then, we weighed our empty plates before loading them up with tasty vegan and vegetarian Indian food at a clearly labeled buffet. Finally, we presented the laden plates to the proprietor who charged for the meal based on weight. My meal, where I sampled five dishes in addition to rice, was $4.50. At the end of the meal, we returned our dishes to the back, washed them, and set them to dry in the drying rack.

Reflection
Kim’s studying Environmental Justice and she knew Josh from his days at Wesleyan. She introduced the restaurant to us as eco-friendly. After thinking about the restaurant, I decided that it appealed to me, because the kind of lifestyle it promoted was not just an environmentally conscientious one. I think my labor organizing friends would like it, because they wouldn’t have to worry about contributing to a business that pays below minimum wages to undocumented workers hidden from view of consumers as dishwashers. If they were to grumble about those workers not having any jobs at all in this restaurant, I could point out that the restaurant was consequently very affordable for the underemployed. Additionally because one has to clean up one’s own plate, leaving leftovers is an unappealing option, and customers are encouraged to take smaller amounts. Taking smaller amounts is also encouraged by the practice of paying by the pound, promoting a healthier diet. By consuming less, there’s more food to go around for everyone, theoretically decreasing hunger and food inequity.

In short, I liked the restaurant because by ostensibly addressing one environmental issue (disposable plates and silverware), it also addressed labor, health, and food equity issues. And I had a damn fine meal.

Question
Do you know of any other such yummy and affordable restaurants? By addressing environmental issues does one a) rarely, b) usually, or c) inevitably address other social justice issues? When do environmental concerns clash with other concerns? Did the scrumptious curry cloud my judgment? Are self-service restaurants the answer to all the world’s problems?

Washington, DC: The Carlyle Group and Community Mapping

Action
Our very first travel stop was Washington DC. After visiting with Linda, Steph, and Helge, we met with Sarah for a day of museuming. Our visit to the National Building Museum started well, with a ground-floor exhibit about concrete, a photo montage of construction workers at LA’s Walt Disney Concert Hall, and a diverse gift/book shop. All the while, we circled around the building’s cavernous interior hall, which was being elegantly furnished for what appeared to be a conference luncheon. Unfortunately, our expectations for the Renate and Josh Welcome Gala were seriously disappointed, as we soon discovered that the setup was instead for a dinner celebration of the Carlyle Group (massive international military corporation and prime stakeholder in the occupation of Iraq).

The museum’s third and final exhibit complicated matters further. “Investigating Where We Live” showcased a program in which DC kids in low-income areas critically explored and creatively documented their neighborhoods. Armed with cameras and museum assistance, 10-14 year-old kids created interactive poster displays explaining what their community meant to them and questioning neighborhood assumptions. Some of the displays were quite bold, posing challenging questions about new apartment buildings (“Who do you think will live there?”), graffiti (“Would it be art in your neighborhood?”), and recent upscale developments (“Do you think they will improve the neighborhood?”).

Reflection
We were very conflicted. On one hand, the museum instigated and proudly displayed a community-based program that creatively engaged kids in neighborhood issues and encouraged them to challenge destructive processes such as gentrification and urban renewal. On the other hand, the museum accommodated and proudly welcomed one of the world’s most destructive corporations. Why should a museum dedicated to celebrating buildings go to bed with a corporation invested in destroying buildings?

On closer consideration, this seemingly unusual cooperation might not be so strange. After all, the concrete exhibit was sponsored by the Lafarge corporation – which, as we read, happens to make some of the world’s most advanced concrete products! And while the Carlyle Group is a major player in the war effort, its work often involves developing and redeveloping infrastructure (including buildings). More generally, museums and cultural institutions throughout the US (and elsewhere) are increasingly collaborating with corporations and relying on corporate sponsorship, as government funding decreases or stagnates. Depending on whom you ask, this is known as public-private partnerships, co-branding, or the privatization of public museums.

Question
Was the museum’s community-based program a token attempt to compensate for the corporate influence? Or did it represent the true interests of the museum staff, expressed to the extent possible considering the museum’s need for financial sponsorship? Or was the corporate involvement beneficial overall, by allowing the museum to offer more and better exhibits? How should corporations be involved in museum funding and programming? What can we learn from existing corporate involvement in DC and elsewhere?