It’s
been a year since Katrina. More than half of the people of New Orleans
remain dispersed around the US. Vast stretches of the city lie empty.
Bodies are still being found in the devastation of the lower ninth
ward. Suicide rates have tripled. The national guard is still
patrolling the streets. Most schools and hospitals -- especially those
serving poor people -- are still closed. Rent has gone up by more than
50%, business is down for almost everyone but contractors, and
available apartments are much harder to find.
Corporations, nonprofits, NGOs, workers
centers, charities, researchers, religious organizations, unions, the
media, and many other players have dedicated huge amounts of money and
resources into New Orleans. Local organizers have engaged in heated
battles with nationwide implications over issues such as health care,
education, public housing, and criminal justice.
The forces lined up in these struggles have had dramatic successes and
failures. For radicals and progressives, there are important
organizing lessons to be learned on tactics, strategy, and more. It is
vital to our movements not just that we care about what happens in New
Orleans, but that we learn from it.
Community Resistance
Organized resistance has risen spontaneously wherever New Orleanians
have found themselves, including in hotels, shelters, and trailer
parks. There have been reports of organizing committees elected in the
New Orleans convention center while floodwaters were still rising, in
an evacuation camp just outside of New Orleans hours after the storm,
and on a bus during evacuation. In many ways, the professional
organizers have been trying to catch up ever since.
Last spring I visited Renaissance Village, an evacuee community of
over 500 trailers located north of Baton Rouge on land owned by a
youth prison. “Last year I was a middle-income American, a homeowner
-- I never imagined I’d come to this,” declared Hillary Moore Jr., a
former city employee and New Orleans property owner exiled in a small
trailer in the middle of the complex.
Not long after moving in, Moore and others organized a residents’
council. “We got tired of a lot of things Keta [the contractor company
managing the park] was doing and we decided to organize because we
realized there is strength in numbers,” he explained. The residents’
council has an elected board and open meetings.
Throughout the city and its diaspora, there is a still-fresh history
of civil rights organizing. People from this tradition -- especially
the more grassroots and non-hierarchical, Ella Baker-inspired part of
the movement -- are a vital part of New Orleans’ grassroots movements
and culture who have been leading much of the current wave of
resistance, as well as inspiring many volunteers and supporters.
This is a vital part of local history. Mattheo “Flukie” Suarez, a
Mississippi Freedom Summer activist and New Orleans Congress of Racial
Equality (CORE) organizer told New Orleans’ Gambit newspaper
last year, “One of the interesting stories that’s never been told, in
my opinion, is that wherever you went across the South, there were
always New Orleans people working in the civil-rights movement…
Practically anywhere you went, there was someone from New Orleans
working.”
This is the city that, in 1892, organized the civil disobedience that
led to Plessy v Ferguson, the Supreme Court challenge to this
nation's "separate but equal" laws, and where community members in
1970 forced the police to back down from their planned eviction of the
Black Panthers from the Desire housing projects.
There are also community traditions such as Social Aid and Pleasure
Clubs, mutual aid institutions founded in the Black community in the
reconstruction era that continue to this day. These associations have
been an important link in sustaining community as the city has
rebuilt. In everything from supporting the survival of the city’s
culture to rebuilding and organizing, these institutions have been
vital, and almost completely ignored and undervalued by city and
federal governments.
There has also been inspiring resistance from other communities of
color in the area, such as the Vietnamese community, who have
struggled to rebuild despite a lack of support from FEMA and other
agencies, and have had notable successes in fighting a landfill near
their community in New Orleans East. New Orleans’ Latino community,
much larger now than pre-Katrina, has led inspiring organizing around
workplace issues, confronting exploitative employers and winning.
Corporate Left
It has been dramatic to live in New Orleans during this time of
intense struggle and witness the divide between paid and unpaid
workers on the ground. Some of the most inspiring stories of
resistance have involved people without any organizational affiliation
or responsibility to corporate backers. For example the Soul Patrol --
a group of young Black men in the seventh ward neighborhood organized
by longtime community organizer Mama D -- began relief and
reconstruction days after the storm, and to this day have received
almost no funding.
Left and liberal foundations have already spent millions of dollars
earmarked towards the Gulf. But according to recent reports, most of
that money did not go to New Orleans-initiated projects, and in fact
much of it went to the same east and west coast nonprofits who have
traditionally received the majority of grants -- organizations with
more experience in writing funding proposals and pleasing the funding
networks.
The reality is, many groups that do the most powerful work aren’t able
to -- or don’t have time to -- write press releases or grant proposals
or fundraising emails or design websites. Other organizations write
beautiful mission statements and speak very well and come across very
committed, but have no roots in the community, are completely
misguided, and do very little. New Orleans has been filled with
top-down, non-accountable, well-funded organizations, from giants like
Red Cross and Save the Children to smaller nonprofits.
New Orleans -- and the south in general -- has a long history of
outsiders spending large sums of money for organizing without
community leadership or involvement. Efforts like this almost always
fail. An example of this is the AFL-CIO’s infamous “HOTROC” campaign
in the late 90s, which cost million of dollars and brought in
countless organizers over a period of several years, all with the aim
of organizing New Orleans’ multi-million-dollar hotel and tourism
industry. The campaign had noble goals, but it was entirely
unsuccessful. Many local organizers complained that, without community
input, these efforts are misdirected from the start. Meanwhile, vital
local organizing goes unfunded and unsupported.
Community Rising
Grassroots, people-of-color-led organizations -- most of them in
existence since pre-Katrina -- have fought on the ground and organized
tens of thousands of New Orleanians in the struggle for community-led
relief, reconstruction and return, with comparatively little attention
from funders or media. The following efforts are only a handful of
examples of this:
INCITE Women of Color Against Violence has brought delegations of
women of color organizers from around the US to support their Women’s
Health and Justice Initiative, which involves establishing a women’s
health clinic and resource center.
Advocates for Environmental Human Rights, a Black-led grassroots
environmental justice organization, has worked with local social
justice organizers to bring a human rights framework and analysis to
the grassroots struggle, while also actively engaging with these
struggles themselves, such as by bringing local community members to
the UN to present testimony about the US government’s human rights
violations in New Orleans.
The African American Leadership Project has organized community forums
that brought radical and progressive policy proposals from the
grassroots directly to the mayor and city council, and in doing so has
reframed some of the policy debates.
People’s Hurricane Relief Fund and People’s Organizing Committee have
brought in mass numbers of volunteers -- including hundreds of
students from historically Black colleges—to engage in direct
organizing.
These organizations have challenged not only the elite priorities in
the reconstruction of our city, but the foundations and structure of
corporate reconstruction and profiteering. They have also been aided
by direct organizing support from many principled allies from across
the US -- groups like Malcolm X Grassroots Movement, National
Immigration Law Center, Critical Resistance, Catalyst Project, and
many others.
Other more traditional nonprofits have also done vital work. For
example, in the months since their founding, a criminal justice reform
coalition called Safe Streets Strong Communities has combined a
grassroots organizing strategy -- working directly with the
incarcerated, formerly incarcerated, and their family members -- with
political pressure and legal support. In their first months, they
succeeded in radically transforming the city’s indigent defense board
from a corrupt and negligent home of cronyism to a body staffed with
criminal justice reform advocates, while simultaneously becoming a
force in city and state government and mobilizing a grassroots base.
Among progressive and radical communities around the US, perhaps the
most widely known post-Katrina relief organization is the Common
Ground relief collective. Thousands of volunteers -- most sleeping on
floors in recently reclaimed and cleaned buildings with makeshift
electricity and sometimes without running water -- have come into work
with Common Ground. They have gutted hundreds of houses and
established several ongoing projects, including bio-remediation, a
community garden, and wetlands restoration.
As a large group of mostly-white volunteers in a majority Black city
facing mass displacement, they have also received a lot of criticism.
“Activists gain a certain credibility by coming here,” cautions
Bridget Lehane, discussing the analysis of the Peoples Institute for
Survival and Beyond, a thirty-year-old antiracist organization based
in New Orleans that she works with. “They can go home and talk about
what they’ve seen and done here, in this historic moment and place,
and gives them a status, but what are they leaving behind?” In some
ways, their large reputation has worked against them locally, as one
frustrated local organizer told me recently, “Common Ground has done
good work, but some people across the US seem to think that Common
Ground invented organizing in New Orleans.”
I’ve only lived in New Orleans a few more years than the Common Ground
volunteers. In many ways, the issues they face are ones that I have
grappled with since I moved here, as a white activist attempting to be
in solidarity with and accountable to a community that I am divided
from by layers of privilege. My hope is that these visitors will take
their experience and knowledge gained from New Orleans back to their
communities and not only spread the lessons learned, but also
revitalize organizing in their home cities.
Neighborhood Associations
The ever-shifting dynamics of power in the city are profoundly
expressed in the rise in prominence and influence of another
institution of New Orleans’ communities -- neighborhood associations.
These organizations -- most of which existed pre-Katrina -- have seen
their membership numbers and involvement multiply. They have been
designing their own plans for rebuilding and resisting the destruction
of their neighborhoods, and there are progressive forces working in
these groups.
This is a potentially encouraging development, in that these
neighborhood associations represent a real possibility of direct
democracy and community involvement. However, with so much of the city
still displaced, the membership of these organizations is biased
towards who is back, which in return reflects the racialized nature of
this disaster. For example, even neighborhoods that are majority
African American, such as Gentilly, Broadmoor and Midcity, were
represented in this process by neighborhood associations that are --
at least in my observation -- majority white.
As the planning process has continued, these issues have risen even
further to the forefront. A year into the process, tens of millions of
dollars in planning money has been promised by the Ford foundation and
other large funders, as well as billions of dollars in Federal
funding, but it’s unclear who will get that money, or who will decide.
Meanwhile, not only have there been power struggles between the Mayor
and the governor on this issue, the mayor and city council also each
hired separate planners, reflecting deep divisions on the part of both
politicians and local elites.
Other devastated Gulf cities such as Biloxi finalized their plans many
months ago. But in New Orleans, even people deeply involved in the
process remain confused about where it’s heading, and whether it will
coalesce along one big plan for the whole city, or many different
plans, differently funded and hotly contested. Many fear that we will
end up with no plan and no money, just a vastly reduced city with a
crumbling infrastructure and miles of empty, mold-filled houses.
Continued Struggle
This has been a sad time for anyone from New Orleans, or anyone that
cares about the people of the city. It has been a time of increased
drinking and depression. Tensions have been high and violent crime is
rising. But it has also been a beautiful and inspiring time. The
people of New Orleans are standing up and fighting back in an historic
struggle for justice, joined by progressive allies from around the
world, and reinforced by a tradition and culture of resistance.
Every time I see a family moving back to the city, I am inspired by
this small act of resistance and courage, this dedication to community
and to the further life of the city. Every day, I see other little
acts of resistance, in secondlines and other cultural expressions. I
see people going to what seems like the thousandth neighborhood
planning meeting and still remaining lucid. I see people demonstrating
in the streets. I see people being kind and generous in the face of
the cruelty of the city’s elite who tried to keep them out.
In hundreds of small struggles, in grassroots organizing and
demonstrations around the city, the fight continues. New Orleanians
are directly challenging the institutions of racism and corporate
profiteering and exclusion that have descended on this city. As
Beverly Wright, director of Dillard University’s Deep South Center for
Environmental Justice said at a spring mayoral forum, “they’ve
underestimated the determination of people like me to fight to our
last breath.”
Jordan Flaherty is a resident of
New Orleans, an organizer with New Orleans Network and an editor of
Left Turn Magazine. His previous articles from New Orleans
are
archived here. He is on
myspace.com now with a weekly radio show every Friday,
Noon-2:00 PM CST on wtul 91.5fm. Listen
online. This article first appeared in the Fall 2006 edition
issue of Left Turn Magazine.
Other Resources for information and action
*
Reconstruction Watch
*
Common Ground
*
People's Hurricane Fund
*
Justice for New Orleans
*
Black Commentator
*
New Orleans Network
*
Families and Friends of Louisiana's Incarcerated Children
Other Articles by
Jordan Flaherty
*
The
Katrina Anniversary
* The
People United: Worker’s Rights Organizing in New Orleans
*
Elections Fever
*
Guantanamo on the Mississippi
* Nothing
Stops Mardi Gras
*
Imprisoned in New Orleans with Tamika Middleton
*
Privatizing New Orleans
*
Loss and Displacement at the Calliope with Jennifer Vitry