Analyze

Based on what I have found thus far regarding narratives surrounding the socioeconomic state of New Orleans, there are two predominant ones I have come across: New Orleans as the “laggard,” the city of play but not work, of poor educational quality, and the other of New Orleans as a "comeback" city shaping to a knowledge-based economy following Hurricane Katrina. The former reminds me of racist stereotypes typically used to describe groups of people deemed not to fit within the white supremacist narrative of progress. The other, post-Hurricane Katrina narrative, is portrayed in the media as a phoenix rising from the ashes, one of the “most rapid and dramatic economic turnarounds in recent American history.” I felt an almost visceral reaction to the assertion of one article that “It would be wrong to say the hurricane destroyed New Orleans public schools, because there was so little worth saving even before the storm hit.” I cannot help but be reminded of “terra nullius,” the “empty land” narrative implemented by colonial powers to seize and control land, dismissing the people residing on the land as insignificant to their broader aim of economic and political dominance. In place of public schools, charter schools are perceived as an improvement—but what of the people who were displaced due to the storm and long to return, yet cannot afford to send their children to a charter school and would be forced to bus their kids across the city? Many people end up not returning to New Orleans as a result. I find it interesting to compare these pre- and post-Hurricane Katrina narratives of New Orleans with the information I find from sources such as this one: a shrinking African American population, fewer young people, less affordable housing, increased segregation, etcetera. What do these demographic changes in the city imply for the “ecosystem” deemed ideal for Innovation hubs? As this article asserts, “New Orleans is making a big name for itself among innovative industries and entrepreneurs and the city’s unique vibe plays a big role in that.” On the other hand, City Councilmember Kristen Palmer asserts that “People have been consistently pushed out…If we lose our people and our culture, we lose our city.” What implication does this “burst” in innovation in New Orleans have for both the Anthropocenics of the city as well as its culture, a culture that is stereotyped as one long “party” with intermittent “emptiness,” as opposed to the realities of the people who have resided in the city for generations, or even the people who moved away after the Hurricane and long to return but to no avail? I am curious to see how education, job training (or lack thereof), and issues of housing feed into the anthropocenics of the city. How do grassroots, social justice and environmentalist activists and organizations (such as this one) perceive the changes in the city following the Hurricane compared to innovation hub technicians and CEOs? How do the social and environmental outcomes of Hurricane Katrina fit within the history of "natural" disasters and climate change in New Orleans? I think it is important to keep articles such as this one central to our focus as we move forward with this project.

I’m interested in how universities, cities, and corporations develop the physical embodiment of the knowledge economy in U.S. city centers in an attempt to foster global connections, and the effect this tends to have on historically black and brown communities. What I find interesting about New Orleans is the manner in which following Hurricane Katrina (which some allege was a human-made disaster), gentrification of the city was spurred on, particularly as predominantly young, white people seeking to work in tech start-ups and corporations moved in to what is deemed yet another potential site for “Innovation.” This made room for corporations and richer residents to move in at the expense of working-class neighborhoods . As council member James Gray argued, “The area desperately needs activity and development…if the city of New Orleans is going to recover, if the Lower Ninth is going to recover- we need development. We cannot turn it away.” I came across an advertisement for an event hosted by INNO that will be held in New Orleans for a “global innovation conference” whereby innovators can “forge the connections that matter.” While I am in the preliminary stages of my research in Houston regarding the Innovation District being built in Midtown Houston, I see astonishing parallels with New Orleans and similar questions arise. Many of the employees at tech companies I have interviewed thus far speak of the notion of the “ecosystem”: the confluence of higher educational institutions, cities, corporations, and start-ups that provides the ideal environment for businesses to thrive and innovation to flourish. However, who is included in this ecosystem and who is left out? What implications (if any) does the use of such environmental terms (ecosystem) to describe innovation economies have for the anthropocene? What does innovation mean and who does it benefit? How do these innovation districts and corridors potentially exacerbate racial inequity in the city, even as they claim to be working for the benefit of all? How do infrastructural neglect and gentrification contribute to health, educational, economic, and environmental disparities, and will innovation in any way seek to address these issues, or merely perpetuate the status quo?

I'm also interested in the narratives that arise surrounding natural disasters, particularly the linear fashion in which events are described. There is a beginning, middle, and end supposedly: but what about before and after, and what about the reoccurence of these disasters? In what ways do these narratives leave out the stories of people who did not get to see the "silver lining" of a disaster? Who did not get to witness the rebuilding of the city? Many of those people moved to Houston and went through another hurricane, Hurricane Harvey. It would be interesting to trace the connections between these two cities. 

Finally, in relation to the topic of slavery, I am interested in the surge of conversations surrounding reparations, particularly in New Orleans and Houston in light of the uneven effects of hurricanes on certain populations. I am intrigued both by memorialization of slavery as well as attempts by elected officials such as Representative Sheila Jackson Lee of Houston and celebrities such as Danny Glover to conduct research (bill H.R. 40) on how to compensate for the U.S.'s history and presence of slavery and racism.

Looking at a map of the New Orleans area I am struck by how many Wildlife Management Areas there are. I wonder if some of these areas are a result of dealing with spaces that cannot be readily developed due to their geo/eco features rather than explicit pushes for wildlife conservation/creation of green space. In some places it seems that green spaces can be created through spaces being unfit for building (e.g. in Orange County, CA).

Although I'm unable to dig into these spaces at this moment, many questions arise:

How accessible are these spaces to visitors? Are they designed for visitors/for environmental education or are they primarily spaces left alone for wildlife habitat? If they are visited, who uses them and how? (e.g. subsistence fishing and hunting? birding?) When were they officially created/designated? What differences in management exist between the national wildlife areas and state-managed areas? What perceptions exist among New Orleaneans about how these spaces are managed and about state vs. federal management? Has the management of federally-managed spaces changed since the beginning of the Trump administration/with the tumultuous activity within the Department of Interior? What challenges do these spaces face (e.g. ecosystem health/wildlife well-being, human use, land management) with changing eco/atmo conditions?

I found an article announcing the release of an environmental mapping tool meant to improve the process of planning "green infrastructure projects." The tool was developed by the Trust for Public Land (which has also played a role in the rebuilding/repairing of parks/other public green spaces in New Orleans following Katrina) as part of its Climate Smart Cities Initative. The mapping tool draws from numerous sources to put multiple kinds of information in one place (e.g. flood prone areas, head islands).

In April 2016 (the date of this article) the mapping tool was only available to city officials and organizers from the Trust for Public Land. I looked on the Trust for Public Land website to see if it was now accessible to anyone but was unable to find it (the description on the website still says the tool is being developed, though that may be a feature of the webpage not being recently updated). What would it take for such a tool to become something anyone could look at and use?

In 2016 with the debut of this tool, the Gentilly area of New Orleans was stated to be the model space for starting to use this tool, which according to Wikipedia is a predominantly middle-class and racially-diverse neighborhood. The area is right on Lake Pontchartrain. I wonder what the decision-making process was for deciding where to test/develop this tool was and what factors were considered went into making that decision (eco/geo features? socioeconomic conditions? etc.). Has the tool now been expanded to be used in other areas of New Orleans?

I found a document produced by FEMA that details the history of "building" elevation in New Orleans (can be found here). Raising structures above ground was a necessary response to the eco/atmo/geo conditions of the space--it has been a site of major flooding during the past coulpe centuries of European, then Euro-American, inhabitance. Through the 19th century, a lack of adequate drainage is reflected in descriptions of the city that include details of cesspools and trash-filled gutters, with residents collecting drinking water off their roofs. In the early 20th century, these conditions were responded to in the requirements that became part of building code, laying out specifications for how high above ground buildings needed to be built and so on. While elevating buildings was primarily the responsibility of the owner throughout the past 150 years, this document describes how in recent decades federal funding through FEMA and the National Flood Insurance Program has been used to elevate homes beyond just the New Orleanean elite.

As I learn more about the history of this place, I imagine that I may gain a better sense of how this document's narrative is shaped by its source (FEMA), but I found this document interesting to think with regarding the impacts of the anthropocene. Flooding and its effects on structures and infrastructure is simultaneously an old/ongoing feature of this low-lying coastal space and a new feature as patterns of storms/flooding shift and sea level rises. With this long history of building in response to these conditions, what features of New Orleans structures/infrastructure are a model for adapting to the anthropocene? How will changing anthropocenics limit the effectiveness of or make vulnerable some of these systems?

An ethnographic moment that stands out to me is when a yearly visitor to the Grand Staircaise Escalante region emphasized the importance of preserving the area under monument status. In a rare moment of recognizing the energy use/demands of even those who are preservation/wilderness proponents, he said "look, I know we have to get our energy from somewhere and maybe for now it's going to be fossil fuels, but please, not here. This place is sacred." Although everyday energy use and the use of petroleum to make such outdoor recreation products as kayaks is occasionally brought into view instead of displaced, these comments are often divorsed from thinking about how people in this area get energy, where the materials extracted from this area go, and what other forms of energy production might replace this extraction. Rather than arguing for a transition of how energy is produced, there seems to be a sense of inevitabilty of extraction but a desire for such industrial processes to be carried out somewhere else.

Thus far I am not sure yet what kinds of organizing there is around energy transition in/for the area. However, there is organizing around trying to "keep fossil fuels in the ground," and organizations such as Grand Staircase Escalante Partners and the Southern Utah Wilderness Association further efforts to keep federally-owned land in southern Utah under protected "national monument" status. However, what appears to be the case is that such efforts are driven more by a desire to keep these landscapes unmarred by fossil fuel extraction processes--i.e. maintaining a "pristine" envrionment--and less focused on discourses about how people in southern Utah or further afield get their energy.

Energy production in southern Utah is varied, but tends to be grouped together. For instance there are many solar generating areas around Cedar City along with a couple geothermal plants, petroleum and natural gas based plants around St. George, coal plants in the middle of the state, and a smattering of hydroelectric plants throughout southern Utah. There is a wind park in Monticello in southeast Utah. Closer to Salt Lake is primarily natural gas and hydroelectric plants. The UNEV pipeline runs the length of the state, from Salt Lake City (where it connects to the Chevron pipeline that runs further north) to Las Vegas, NV.

The geology of southern Utah shapes how this area has been identified as a place of resource extraction, and the presence of coal and petroleum deposits shape political and economic interests in public lands debates. The geologic history of the area created prime conditions for petroleum deposits, particularly in southeastern Utah. These geologic conditions have created significant uranium deposits as well. Much of the coal, oil, and uranium extracted from Utah is sent for use elsewhere, although there are a number of petroleum power plants in the area. This geologic setting is part of what puts Utah, and specifically southern Utah, on the national map regarding how public lands should best be managed, and whether energy companies should receive leases for activity on public lands.