[Mb-civic] Who Is Killing New Orleans?
ean at sbcglobal.net
ean at sbcglobal.net
Mon Mar 27 21:26:27 PST 2006
This article can be found on the web at
http://www.thenation.com/doc/20060410/davis
Who Is Killing New Orleans?
by MIKE DAVIS
[from the April 10, 2006 issue]
Afew blocks from the badly flooded and still-closed campus of Dillard
University, a wind-bent street sign announces the intersection of
Humanity and New Orleans. In the nighttime distance, the downtown
skyscrapers on Poydras and Canal Streets are already ablaze with
light, but a vast northern and eastern swath of the city, including the
Gentilly neighborhood around Dillard, remains shrouded in darkness.
The lights have been out for six months now, and no one seems to
know when, if ever, they will be turned back on. In greater New
Orleans about 125,000 homes remain damaged and unoccupied, a
vast ghost city that rots in darkness while les bon temps return to a
guilty strip of unflooded and mostly affluent neighborhoods near the
river. Such a large portion of the black population is gone that some
radio stations are now switching their formats from funk and rap to soft
rock.
Mayor Ray Nagin likes to boast that "New Orleans is back," pointing to
the tourists who again prowl the French Quarter and the Tulane
students who crowd Magazine Street bistros; but the current
population of New Orleans on the west bank of the Mississippi is about
the same as that of Disney World on a normal day. More than 60
percent of Nagin's constituents--including an estimated 80 percent of
the African-Americans--are still scattered in exile with no obvious way
home.
In their absence, local business elites, advised by conservative think
tanks, "New Urbanists" and neo-Democrats, have usurped almost
every function of elected government. With the City Council largely
shut out of their deliberations, mayor-appointed commissions and
outside experts, mostly white and Republican, propose to radically
shrink and reshape a majority-black and Democratic city. Without any
mandate from local voters, the public-school system has already been
virtually abolished, along with the jobs of unionized teachers and
school employees. Thousands of other unionized jobs have been lost
with the closure of Charity Hospital, formerly the flagship of public
medicine in Louisiana. And a proposed oversight board, dominated by
appointees of President Bush and Governor Kathleen Babineaux
Blanco, would end local control over city finances.
Meanwhile, Bush's pledge to "get the work done quickly" and mount
"one of the largest reconstruction efforts the world has ever seen" has
proved to be the same fool's gold as his earlier guarantee to rebuild
Iraq's bombed-out infrastructure. Instead, the Administration has left
the residents of neighborhoods like Gentilly in limbo: largely without
jobs, emergency housing, flood protection, mortgage relief, small-
business loans or a coordinated plan for reconstruction.
With each passing week of neglect--what Representative Barney
Frank has labeled "a policy of ethnic cleansing by inaction"--the
likelihood increases that most black Orleanians will never be able to
return.
Lie and Stall
After his bungling initial response to Katrina, Bush impersonated FDR
and Lyndon Johnson when he reassured the nation in his September
15 Jackson Square speech that "we have a duty to confront [New
Orleans's] poverty with bold action.... We will do what it takes, we will
stay as long as it takes to help citizens rebuild their communities and
their lives."
In the event, the White House sat on its pledges all autumn, mumbling
homilies about the limits of government, while its conservative attack
dogs in Congress offset Gulf relief with $40 billion worth of cutbacks in
Medicaid, food stamps and student loans. Republicans also rebelled
against aid for a state that was depicted as a venal Third World
society, a failed state like Haiti, out of step with national values.
"Louisiana and New Orleans," according to Idaho Senator Larry Craig,
"are the most corrupt governments in our country and they always
have been.... Fraud is in the culture of Iraqis. I believe that is true in the
state of Louisiana as well."
Democrats, apart from the Congressional Black Caucus, did
pathetically little to counter this backlash or to hold Bush's feet to the
fire over his Jackson Square pledge. The promised national debate
about urban poverty never took place; instead, New Orleans, like a
great derelict ship, drifted helplessly in the treacherous currents of
White House hypocrisy and conservative contempt.
An early, deadly blow was Treasury Secretary John Snow's refusal to
guarantee New Orleans municipal bonds, forcing Mayor Nagin to lay
off 3,000 city employees on top of the thousands of education and
medical workers already jobless. The Bush Administration also
blocked bipartisan measures to increase Medicaid coverage for
Katrina evacuees and to give the State of Louisiana--facing an
estimated $8 billion in lost revenues over the next few years--a share
of the income generated by its offshore oil and gas leases.
Even more egregious was the flagrant redlining of black
neighborhoods by the Small Business Administration (SBA), which
rejected a majority of loan applications by local businesses and
homeowners. At the same time, a bipartisan Senate bill to save small
businesses with emergency bridge loans was sabotaged by Bush
officials, leaving thousands to face bankruptcy and foreclosure. As a
result, the economic foundations of the city's African-American middle
class (public-sector jobs and small businesses) have been swept away
by deliberate decisions made in the White House. Meanwhile, in the
absence of federal or state initiatives to employ locals, low-income
blacks are losing their niches in the construction and service sectors to
more mobile outsiders.
In stark contrast to its neglect of neighborhood relief, the White House
has made herculean efforts to reward its own base of large
corporations and political insiders. Representative Nydia Velazquez,
who sits on the House Small Business Committee, pointed out that the
SBA has allowed large corporations to get $2 billion in federal
contracts while excluding local minority contractors.
The paramount beneficiaries of Katrina relief aid have been the giant
engineering firms KBR (a Halliburton subsidiary) and the Shaw Group,
which enjoy the services of lobbyist Joe Allbaugh (a former FEMA
director and Bush's 2000 campaign manager). FEMA and the Army
Corps of Engineers, while unable to explain to Governor Blanco last
fall exactly how they were spending money in Louisiana, have tolerated
levels of profiteering that would raise eyebrows even on the war-torn
Euphrates. (Some of this largesse, of course, is guaranteed to be
recycled as GOP campaign contributions.) FEMA, for example, has
paid the Shaw Group $175 per square (100 square feet) to install tarps
on storm-damaged roofs in New Orleans. Yet the actual installers earn
as little as $2 per square, and the tarps are provided by FEMA.
Similarly, the Army Corps pays prime contractors about $20 per cubic
yard of storm debris removed, yet some bulldozer operators receive
only $1. Every level of the contracting food chain, in other words, is
grotesquely overfed except the bottom rung, where the actual work is
carried out. While the Friends of Bush mine gold from the wreckage of
New Orleans, many disappointed recovery workers--often Mexican or
Salvadoran immigrants camped out in city parks and derelict shopping
centers--can barely make ends meet.
The Big Kiss-Off
In the fractious, take-no-prisoners world of Louisiana politics, broad
solidarity of interest is normally as rare as a boulder in a bayou. Yet
Katrina created an unprecedented bipartisan consensus around twin
demands for Category 5 hurricane protection and mortgage relief for
damaged homes. From conservative Republicans to liberal
Democrats, there has been unanimity that the region's recovery
depends on federal investment in new levees and coastal restoration,
as well as financial rescue of the estimated 200,000 homeowners
whose insurance coverage has failed to cover their actual damage.
(There has been no equivalent consensus and little concern for the
right of renters--who constituted 53 percent of the population before
Katrina--and of public-housing tenants to return to their city.)
Yet by early November it was clear that saving New Orleans was no
longer high on the Bush agenda, if it had ever been. As Congress
headed toward its Christmas adjournment, the Louisiana delegation
was in panic mode: A Category 5 plan had disappeared from serious
discussion, and there were doubts about whether the damaged levees
would be repaired before hurricane season returned. (In early March
engineers monitoring the progress of the Army Corps's work
complained that the use of weak, sandy soils and the lack of concrete
"armoring" insured that the levees would again fail in a major storm.)
Congress ultimately voted to provide $29 billion for Gulf Coast relief.
Yet as the Washington Post reported, "All but $6 billion of the measure
merely reshuffled some of the $62 billion in previously approved
Hurricane Katrina aid. The rest was funded by a 1 percent across-the-
board cut of non-emergency, discretionary programs." The Pentagon
won approval for a whopping $4.4 billion in base repairs and other
professed Katrina-related needs, but Congress cut out the $250 million
allocated to combat coastal erosion. Meanwhile, Mississippi's powerful
Republican troika--Governor Haley Barbour and Senators Trent Lott
and Thad Cochran--persuaded fellow Republicans to support $6.2
billion in discretionary housing aid for Louisiana and $5.3 billion for
Mississippi, with red-state Mississippi getting five times as much aid
per distressed household as pink-state Louisiana.
Louisiana received another blow on January 23, when Bush rejected
GOP Representative Richard Baker's plan calling for a federally
guaranteed Louisiana Reconstruction Corporation, which would bail
out homeowners by buying distressed properties and packaging them
in larger parcels for resale to developers. Local Republicans as well as
Democrats howled in rage, and the future of southern Louisiana was
again thrown into chaos. Although the Administration eventually
promised an additional $4.2 billion in housing aid, the appropriation
continues to be fought over by Texas and other jealous states.
The Republican hostility to New Orleans, of course, runs deeper and is
nastier than mere concern with civic probity (America's most corrupt
city, after all, is located on the Potomac, not the Mississippi).
Underlying all the circumlocutions are the same antediluvian
prejudices and stereotypes that were used to justify the violent
overthrow of Reconstruction 130 years ago. Usually it is the poor who
are invisible in the aftermath of urban disasters, but in the case of New
Orleans it has been the African-American professional middle class
and skilled working class. In the confusion and suffering of Katrina--a
Rorschach test of the American racial unconscious--most white
politicians and media pundits have chosen to see only the demons of
their prejudices. The city's complex history and social geography have
been reduced to a cartoon of a vast slum inhabited by an alternately
criminal or helpless underclass, whose salvation is the kindness of
strangers in other, whiter cities. Inconvenient realities like Gentilly's
red-brick normalcy--or, for that matter, the pride of homeownership
and the exuberance of civic activism in the blue-collar Lower Ninth
Ward--have not been allowed to interfere with the belief, embraced by
New Democrats as well as old Republicans, that black urban culture is
inherently pathological.
Such calumnies reproduce ancient caricatures--blacks running amok,
incapable of honest self-government--that were evoked by the
murderous White League when it plotted against Reconstruction in
New Orleans in the 1870s. Indeed, some civil rights veterans fear that
the 1874 Battle of Canal Street, a bloody League-organized
insurrection against a Republican administration elected by black
suffrage, is being refought--perhaps without pikes and guns, but with
the same fundamental aim of dispossessing black New Orleans of
economic and political power. Certainly, a sweeping transformation of
the racial balance-of-power within the city has been on some people's
agenda for a long time.
The Krewe of Canizaro
Power and status in New Orleans have always been defined by
membership in secretive Mardi Gras "krewes" and social clubs. In the
early 1990s civil rights activists, led by feisty Councilmember Dorothy
Mae Taylor, forced the token desegregation of Mardi Gras, and some
of the clubs reluctantly admitted a few African-American millionaires.
Despite some old-guard holdouts, Uptown seemed to be adjusting,
however grudgingly, to the reality of black political clout.
But as post-Katrina events have brutally clarified, if the oligarchy is
dead, then long live the oligarchy. While elected black officials protest
impotently from the sidelines, a largely white elite has wrested control
over the debate about how to rebuild the city. This de facto ruling
krewe includes Jim Amoss, editor of the New Orleans Times-
Picayune; Pres Kabacoff, developer-gentrifier and local patron of the
New Urbanism; Donald Bollinger, shipyard owner and prominent
Bushite; James Reiss, real estate investor and chair of the Regional
Transit Authority (i.e., the man responsible for the buses that didn't
evacuate people); Alden McDonald Jr., CEO of one of the largest
black-owned banks; Janet Howard of the Bureau of Government
Research (originally established by Uptown elites to oppose the
populism of Huey Long); and Scott Cowen, the aggressively ambitious
president of Tulane University.
But the dominating figure and kingpin is Joseph Canizaro, a wealthy
property developer who is a leading Bush supporter with close
personal ties to the White House inner circle. He is also the power
behind the throne of Mayor Nagin, a nominal Democrat (he supported
Bush in 2000) who was elected in 2002 with 85 percent of the white
vote. Finally, as the former president of the Urban Land Institute,
Canizaro mobilizes the support of some of the nation's most powerful
developers and prestigious master planners.
In a city where old money is often as reclusive as Anne Rice's
vampires, Canizaro poses as a brave civic leader unafraid to speak
bitter but necessary truths. As he told the Associated Press about the
Katrina diaspora last October: "As a practical matter, these poor folks
don't have the resources to go back to our city just like they didn't have
the resources to get out of our city. So we won't get all those folks
back. That's just a fact."
Indeed, it is a "fact" that Canizaro has helped shape into reigning
dogma. The number of displaced residents returning to the city is
obviously a highly variable function of the resources and opportunities
provided for them, yet the rebuilding debate has been premised on
suspicious projections--provided by the RAND Corporation and
endlessly repeated by Nagin and Canizaro--that in three years the city
would recover only half of its August 2005 population. Many Orleanians
cynically wonder whether such projections aren't actually goals. For
years Reiss, Kabacoff and others have complained that New Orleans
has too many poor people. Faced with the dire fiscal consequences of
white flight to the suburbs, as well as three decades of
deindustrialization (which has given New Orleans an economic profile
closer to Newark than to Houston or Atlanta), they argue that the city
has become a soul-destroying warehouse for underemployed and
poorly educated African-Americans, whose real interests--it is claimed-
-might be better served by a Greyhound ticket to another town.
Kabacoff's 2003 redevelopment of the St. Thomas public housing
project as River Garden, a largely market-rate faux Creole subdivision,
has become the prototype for the smaller, wealthier, whiter city that
Mayor Nagin's Bring New Orleans Back commission (with Canizaro as
head of the crucial urban planning committee) proposes to build.
BNOB is perhaps the most important elite initiative in New Orleans
since the famous "Cold Water Committee" (which included Kabacoff's
father) mobilized in 1946 to overthrow the "Old Regulars" and elect
reformer deLesseps Morrison as mayor. BNOB grew out of a notorious
meeting between Mayor Nagin and New Orleans business leaders
(dubbed by some "the forty thieves") that Reiss organized in Dallas
twelve days after Katrina devastated the city. The summit excluded
most of New Orleans's elected black representatives and, according to
Reiss as characterized in the Wall Street Journal, focused on the
opportunity to rebuild the city "with better services and fewer poor
people."
Fears that a municipal coup d'etat was in progress were scarcely
mollified when at the end of September the mayor charged BNOB with
preparing a master plan to rebuild the city. Although the seventeen-
member commission was racially balanced and included City Council
president Oliver Thomas as well as jazz musician Wynton Marsalis
(telecommuting from Manhattan), the real clout was exercised by
committee chairs, especially Canizaro (urban planning), Cowen
(education) and Howard (finance), who lunched privately with the
mayor before the group's weekly meeting. This inner sanctum was
reportedly necessary because the full-panel meetings did not allow a
frank discussion of "tough issues of race and class."
BNOB might have quickly imploded but for a shrewd outflanking
movement by Canizaro, who persuaded Nagin to invite the Urban Land
Institute to work with the commission. Although the ULI is the self-
interested national voice of corporate land developers, Nagin and
Canizaro welcomed the delegation of developers, architects and ex-
mayors as a heroic cavalry of expertise riding to the city's rescue. In a
nutshell, the ULI's recommendations reframed the historic elite desire
to shrink the city's socioeconomic footprint of black poverty (and black
political power) as a crusade to reduce its physical footprint to contours
commensurate with public safety and a fiscally viable urban
infrastructure.
Upon these suspect premises, the outside "experts" (including
representatives of some of the country's largest property firms and
corporate architects) proposed an unprecedented triage of an
American city, in which low-lying neighborhoods would be targeted for
mass buyouts and future conversion into a greenbelt to protect New
Orleans from flooding. As a visiting developer told BNOB: "Your
housing is now a public resource. You can't think of it as private
property anymore."
Keenly aware of inevitable popular resistance, the ULI also proposed a
Crescent City Rebuilding Corporation, armed with eminent domain,
that would bypass the City Council, as well as an oversight board with
power over the city's finances. With control of New Orleans schools
already usurped by the state, the ULI's proposed dictatorship of
experts and elite appointees would effectively overthrow representative
democracy and annul the right of local people to make decisions about
their lives. For veterans of the 1960s civil rights movement, especially,
it reeked of disenfranchisement pure and simple, a return to the
paternalism of plantation days.
The City Council, supported by a surprising number of white
homeowners and their representatives, angrily rejected the ULI plan.
Mayor Nagin--truly a cat on a hot tin roof--danced anxiously back and
forth between the two camps, disavowing abandonment of any area
while at the same time warning that the city could not afford to service
every neighborhood. But state and national officials, including HUD
Secretary Alphonso Jackson, applauded the ULI scheme, as did the
editorial page of the Times-Picayune and the influential Bureau of
Government Research.
The BNOB recommendations presented by Canizaro in January
faithfully hewed to the ULI framework: They included an appointed
redevelopment corporation, outside the control of the City Council, that
would act as a land bank to buy out heavily damaged homes and
neighborhoods with federal funds, wielding eminent domain as needed
to retire low-lying areas to greenbelt ("black people's neighborhoods
into white people's parks," someone commented) or to assemble "in-
fill" tracts for mixed-income development a la River Garden. Other
committees recommended a radical diminution of the power of elected
government.
On the crucial question of how to decide which neighborhoods would
be allowed to rebuild and which would be bulldozed, BNOB endorsed
the concept of forced buyouts but equivocated over process. Instead of
the ruthless map that the Bureau of Government Research wanted,
Canizaro and colleagues proposed a Rube Goldberg-like temporary
building moratorium in tandem with neighborhood planning meetings
that would poll homeowners about their intentions. Only those
neighborhoods where at least half of the pre-Katrina residents had
made a committment to return would be considered serious
candidates for Community Development Block Grants (CDBGs) and
other financial aid.
Canizaro presented the report to Nagin in front of a public audience on
January 11. The mayor said, "I like the plan," and he complimented the
commissioners for "a job well done." But most locals found little charm
in the Canizaro report. "I will sit in my front door with my shotgun," one
resident warned at a jammed meeting in the Council chambers on
January 14, while another demanded, "Are we going to allow some
developers, some hustlers, some land thieves to grab our land, grab
our homes, to make this a Disney World version of our homes, our
lives?" Predictably, Nagin panicked and eventually disavowed the
building moratorium. Soon afterward the White House torpedoed the
Baker plan and left BNOB with only the state-controlled CDBG
appropriation to finance its ambitious vision of New Orleans regrouped
around a dozen new River Gardens linked by a high-speed light-rail
line.
But Canizaro doesn't seem unduly worried. He has reassured
supporters that the ULI/BNOB plan can go forward with CDBGs alone
if necessary; in addition, he knows that independent of the local
political weather, there are powerful external forces--lack of insurance
coverage, new FEMA flood maps, refusal of lenders to refinance
mortgages and so on--that can make permanent the exodus from
redlined neighborhoods. Moreover, as anyone versed in the realpolitik
of modern Louisiana knows, nothing is finally decided in New Orleans
until some good ol' boys (and girls) in Baton Rouge have their say.
Power Shift
Even before the last bloated body had been fished out of the fetid
waters, conservative political analysts were writing gleeful obituaries
for black Democratic power in Louisiana. "The Democrats' margin of
victory," said Ronald Utt of the Heritage Foundation, is "living in the
Astrodome in Houston." Thanks to the Army Corps's defective levees,
the Republicans stand to gain another Senate seat, two Congressional
seats and probably the governorship. The Democrats would also find it
impossible to reproduce Bill Clinton's 1992 feat, when he carried
Louisiana by almost exactly his margin of victory in New Orleans. With
a ruthless psephologist like Karl Rove in the White House, it is
inconceivable that such considerations haven't influenced the
shameless Bush response to the city's distress.
New Orleans has always vied with Detroit when it comes to the violent
antipathy of white-flight suburbs toward its black central city, so it is not
surprising that representatives from Jefferson Parish (which elected
Klan leader David Duke to the state legislature in 1989) and St.
Tammany Parish have particularly relished the post-Katrina shift in
metropolitan population and electoral power. Both parishes are in the
midst of housing booms that may consolidate the hollowing out and
decline of New Orleans.
For her part, Governor Blanco, a Democrat, has expressed little
concern about this fundamental reconfiguration of Louisiana's major
metropolitan area. Indeed, her immediate, Bush-like responses to
Katrina were to help engineer a state takeover of New Orleans schools
and to slash $500 million in state spending while sponsoring tax
breaks (in the name of economic recovery) for oil companies awash in
profits. The Legislative Black Caucus was outraged at Blanco's
"complete lack of vision and leadership" and went to court to challenge
her right to make cuts without consulting lawmakers. But Blanco,
supported by rural conservatives and corporate lobbyists, remained
intransigent, even openly hostile, to black Democrats whose support
she had previously courted.
Poor people have no voice inside the Louisiana Recovery Authority,
whose gaggle of university presidents and corporate types appointed
by Blanco is even less beholden to black New Orleans voters and their
representatives than the Canizaro krewe. The twenty-nine-member
LRA board, dominated by representatives of big business, has only
one trade unionist and not a single grassroots black representative.
Moreover, in contrast to Nagin's commission, the LRA has the power
to decide, not merely advise: It controls the allocation of the FEMA
funds and CDBGs that Congress has provided for reconstruction.
According to interviews in the Times-Picayune, leading members of
the LRA believe that the sheer force of economic disincentives will
shrink the city around the contours proposed by the Urban Land
Institute. The authority has thus refused to disburse any of its hazard
mitigation funds to areas considered unsafe, and presumably will be
equally hardheaded in the allocation of CDBG spending. At a special
session of the legislature Governor Blanco emphasized that the state,
not local government or neighborhood planning committees, will retain
control over where grants and loans go.
But Blanco and the elites may have overlooked the Fats Domino
factor.
'No Bulldozing!'
Like hundreds of other flood-damaged but structurally sound homes,
Fats Domino's house wears a defiant sign: Save Our Neighborhood:
No Bulldozing! The r&b icon, who has always stayed close to his roots
in working-class Holy Cross, knows his riverside neighborhood and the
rest of the Lower Ninth Ward are prime targets of the city-shrinkers.
Indeed, on Christmas Day the Times-Picayune--declaring that "before
a community can rebuild, it must dream"--published a vision of what a
smaller-but-better New Orleans might look like: "Tourists and
schoolchildren tour a living museum that includes the former home of
Fats Domino and Holy Cross High School, a multiblock memorial to
Katrina that spans the devastated neighborhood."
"Living museum" (or "holocaust museum," as a black friend bitterly
observed) sounds like a bad joke, but it is the elite view of what
African-American New Orleans should become. In the brave New
Urbanist world of Canizaro and Kabacoff, blacks (along with that other
colorful minority group, Cajuns) will reign only as entertainers and self-
caricatures. The high-voltage energy that once rocked juke joints,
housing projects and second-line parades will now be safely
embalmed for tourists in a proposed Louisiana Music Experience in
the Central Business District.
But this minstrel-show version of the future must first defeat a
remarkable local history of grassroots organization. The Crescent
City's best-kept secret--in the mainstream press, at least--has been
the resurgence of trade-union and community organizing since the
mid-1990s. Indeed, New Orleans, the only Southern city in which labor
was ever powerful enough to call a general strike, has become an
important crucible of new social movements. In particular, it has
become the home base of ACORN, a national organization of working-
class homeowners and tenants that counts more than 9,000 New
Orleans member-families, mostly in triage-threatened black
neighborhoods. ACORN's membership has been the engine behind
the tumultuous, decade-long struggle to unionize downtown hotels as
well as the successful 2002 referendum to legislate the nation's first
municipal minimum wage (later overthrown by a right-wing state
Supreme Court). Since Katrina, ACORN has emerged as the major
opponent of the ULI/BNOB plan for shrinking the city. Its members find
themselves again fighting many of the same elite figures who were
opponents of hotel unionization and a living wage.
ACORN founder Wade Rathke scoffs at the RAND Corporation
projections that portray most blacks abandoning the city. "Don't believe
those phony figures," he told me over beignets at Cafe du Monde in
January. "We have polled our displaced members in Houston and
Atlanta. Folks overwhelmingly want to return. But they realize that this
is a tough struggle, since we have to fight simultaneously on two
fronts: to restore people's homes and to bring back their jobs. It is also
a race against time. The challenge is, You make it, you take it. So our
members are voting with their feet."
Not waiting for CDBGs, FEMA flood maps or permission from
Canizaro, ACORN crews and volunteers from across the country are
working night and day to repair the homes of 1,000 member-families in
some of the most threatened areas. The strategy is to confront the
city-shrinkers with the incontestable fact of reoccupied, viable
neighborhood cores.
ACORN has allied with the AFL-CIO and the NAACP to defend worker
rights and press for the hiring of locals in the recovery effort. Rathke
points out that Katrina has become the pretext for the most vicious
government-supported attack on unions since President Reagan fired
striking air-traffic controllers in 1981. "First, suspension of Davis-Bacon
[federal prevailing wage law], then the state takeover of the schools
and the destruction of the teachers' union, and now this." He points to
a beat-up green garbage truck rattling by Jackson Square. "Trash
collection in the French Quarter used to be a unionized city job, SEIU
members. Now FEMA has contracted the work to a scab company
from out of state. Is this what Bring New Orleans Back means?"
ACORN also went to court to insure that New Orleans's displaced,
largely black population would have access to out-of-state polling
places, especially in Atlanta and Houston, for the scheduled April 22
city elections. When a federal judge rejected the demand, ACORN
organizer Stephen Bradberry said it's "so obvious that there's a
concerted plan to make this a whiter city." The NAACP agrees, but the
Justice Department denied its request to block an election that is likely
to transfer power to the artificial white majority created by Katrina.
It would be inspiring to see in this latest battle of New Orleans the birth
pangs of a new or renewed civil rights movement, but gritty local
activism has yet to be echoed in meaningful solidarity by the labor
movement, so-called progressive Democrats or even the
Congressional Black Caucus. Pledges, press statements and
occasional delegations, yes; but not the unfaltering national outrage
and sense of urgency that should attend the attempted murder of New
Orleans on the fortieth anniversary of the Voting Rights Act. In 1874,
as historian Ted Tunnell has pointed out, the failure of Northern
Radicals to launch a militant, armed riposte to the white insurrection in
New Orleans helped to doom the first Reconstruction. Will our feeble
response to Hurricane Katrina now lead to the rollback of the second?
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