Divisive Development

Written by Victoria Goodday, Editorial Intern at Corporate Knights

The A. Murray MacKay Bridge looms behind local politician Jerome Downey; a small memorial is all that marks the community destroyed for its construction.

Photo by Paul Trussler

Halifax, Nova Scotia, is a small port city rich in Maritime history and down-home hospitality. Known for its hard-partying students and sailors, the city’s lively cultural scene has earned it the nickname of “the New Orleans of the East”. The similarities between the two cities don’t stop there. Like New Orleans, Halifax has an urban core characterized by a sharp racial divide and a population plagued by racial tension.

A history tainted by discriminatory policy decisions has left Nova Scotia’s capital fighting to achieve an inclusive society. Home to the largest proportion of Canadian-born blacks in the country, its racially disparate downtown and isolated black neighborhoods challenge Canada’s “cultural mosaic” moniker.

Cross Cogswell Street headed north, and you’ll find a neighborhood in decay: boarded-up storefronts, dilapidated homes, garbage-littered streets, services for the homeless and drug-addled. Mixed up in this wounded economic climate is a historic black community.

Cut to the downtown South End: grand estates and tree-lined roads, universities and a world-class public park; a haven for affluent families – almost uniformly Caucasian.

“It’s just a ‘we and they’ kind of mental attitude,” says Halifax’s Irvine Carvery (arguably the black community’s most influential leader) of the black and white populations.

The municipality’s concentrated ethno-cultural enclaves are shocking reminders of the racial inequities that still exist in our urban centres. The outskirt community of Preston is the archetype: 69.4% of its population is black, versus only 3.6% of Halifax overall. These silos risk isolation amid greater diversity – wasting the creative and economic potential of their members and posing barriers to inclusive, equitable urban democracies. The North End’s Jerome Downey can testify to this reality.

“They’re not in the equation,” he says of black Haligonians. “So many of my friends and peers have left because of opportunities that are not present. …It can be healthy to have a tight-knit community, but the problems begin when that community is both secluded and excluded.”

A graduate of Mount Allison University’s political studies program and city council candidate at only 23, Downey is the personification of potential home-grown in the North End. He, too, draws comparison to the racially asymmetrical cores of so many American cities, dubbing Halifax the “South of Canada”.

So why is this otherwise innovative city – a national leader in green initiatives – lagging in pursuit of social assimilation? The answer is in the history books.

Photo by Paul Trussler

In the late 1960s, Nova Scotia’s black community experienced what has been called one of the most severe episodes of racism in Canadian history.

Throughout most of the 19th and 20th centuries, the province boasted the largest indigenous black population in the country. Still without basic civil rights, unequal opportunities forced most African Nova Scotians to remain in segregated communities. Africville, a settlement on Halifax Peninsula’s northern shore, was the epitome of the tight-knit, all-black colony of the time. Established in the early 1800s, it served as a private oasis; a self-sufficient community where its 400-odd members could live in peace.

But the 20th century brought big growth for the small city – and big injustices to the residents of Africville. The area became a haven for unwanted industry – dumps, factories, slaughterhouses – and Africvillians were subjected to toxic waste and emissions. Their prime waterfront location grew increasingly attractive to developers and, in what some call Africville’s plotted demise, the City denied them basic services and utilities and even refused to help reconstruct their homes after the Halifax Explosion.

Finally, in 1964, the local government made its move. Africville was bulldozed in favour of urban expansion; its voiceless residents warehoused in public housing.

“Put it this way – people owned property, had a livelihood, had a community destroyed,” says Downey.

This case of urban development out-valuing ethnic heritage is not unique to Haligonian history. Hogan’s Alley of Vancouver was a historic black neighborhood sacrificed for an 8-lane freeway in the 1960’s; Toronto’s original Chinatown was a long-standing Asian community razed for the construction of a new City Hall and civic square in the late 1950’s.

The majority of former Africville residents were relocated to Uniacke Square, a 184-unit housing project just north of the heart of downtown – a move the City hoped would “modernize” the black Haligonians. Instead, it proved only to perpetuate their isolation.

Downey blames the city of unequal treatment - including poor garbage removal in the Square.

Forty years later, the Square’s residents are still mostly black. In a situation frighteningly similar to Africville’s, “Squaretown” has been ghettoized by the pressures preventing its people from leaving: a lack of affordable housing options, poor employment opportunities (unemployment pushes 60%), and persistent stigmatization.

“There’s a lot of pride, it’s a community – but it’s demonized,” Downey says of the notorious housing project.

The area’s tarnished reputation soon led to an exodus of businesses. Banks, movie theatres, a post office, and a department store were among the services that vanished from the scene, taking employment and accessibility with them.

The last grocery store in the area closed its doors in 1987. Now, with no affordable food in walking distance, car-less residents are forced to shop at smaller, more expensive convenience stores or hire taxis. In the South End, chain grocery stores are almost obscenely abundant: at downtown’s Barrington and Queen, two are only one block apart.

A stagnant business climate, however, doesn’t necessarily mean a lack of development.

“[The North End] is being redeveloped residentially at a much quicker pace than any commercial developments,” Carvery explains. “Now, the big area of concern is affordable housing.” A man of many hats, Carvery is a member of the Metro Authority on Housing and a voice to the Square’s troubled residents.

“The residential developments are way out of the income range of the people who have lived here for generations. The ability for them to move out of public housing and into rental situations is now gone.”

Like Africville, Uniacke Square is finding itself amidst rapid urban renewal. The decaying yet centrally-located neighborhood has developers drooling and a wave of gentrification is moving northward, threatening redevelopment of the Square. The nearby Ocean Towers are obvious examples: two high-rises recently given facelifts, the subsequent hikes in rent landing many of their low-income tenants out on the streets.

Lacking both ownership of their homes and affordable options for new housing, the Square’s residents feel powerless.

“Now, there’s talk about the second Africville,” says Downey. “I don’t feel that needs to happen.”

Halifax Regional Municipality Mayor Peter Kelly recognizes the urgency of supporting the city’s downtown black community.

“We can never forget what has transpired and we have to ensure that it never happens again,” he says.

In an effort to avoid past mistakes, council has made social inclusion a priority. “We have to work as an inclusive community and have to be open to change and reflective of the needs not only for one community, but of all communities,” says Kelly. “Our goal as a council is to ensure that every community within the HRM is strong, and we work towards that goal each day.”

This focus on strengthening individual communities has meant a large part of the government’s efforts is directed at making change from within the black community itself. The City actively seeks out African Nova Scotians as job candidates and works with many key players – community groups, housing authorities, the police force, and local businesses – to help support its black citizens.

But both Carvery and Downey say that non-black citizens need to be more involved. Carvery points to the lack of participation of white Haligonians in “culturally sensitive” events such as those put on by the Black Cultural Centre or the Africville Genealogy Society. To broaden awareness of African Nova Scotian issues, he stresses the importance of a wholly-integrative approach involving citizens from all ends of the city.

“That inclusiveness has to start in schools, because children are going to become adults. We’ve got to start with our education system and we need to sensitize the population a little bit more around it’s not a ‘we-they’ kind of thing.”

Downey feels strongly that this change in attitude must begin with the municipal government. His grandfather, Graham Downey, was Halifax’s first and only black city councilor, serving for 24 years. Now, many blame the all-white city council line-up for disconnect between the State and its people.

“It’s kind of shocking. A lot of issues that need to be addressed in the Northern end of downtown are not,” says Downey. “Before anything can change, you need to change the attitude of the council. But that’s difficult when you have people that don’t understand the complexity of the issues.”

Spurred by this feeling of neglect, Downey ran for city council in last fall’s municipal election. Currently, two of the municipality’s most heavily populated black communities share ridings with “white” neighborhoods – Downey’s downtown district 12 was one of them. In a pattern familiar to the black community, he swept the North End but fell short overall.

Carvery puts the onus on the parties to ensure adequate representation in these heterogeneous districts. “Representation is of the utmost importance,” he emphasizes. “A voice of authenticity at that level of decision-making would go a long way. Until the political parties have the will power within themselves to ensure that their representative is of African descent, we still are going to be unrepresented in the House.”

Though set back by past failures, the city is showing signs of progress towards a more unified urban core. Much of this change is coming from within the isolated community itself: dynamic black leaders stepping up to the plate.

Successes like Square-born R&B artist Jordan Croucher and Preston’s booming gospel music scene are helping to shed the regions’ no-good stigma. Local hero Mickey MacDonald has turned an abandoned North End theatre into Palooka’s Boxing Club, a safe-haven for inner-city youth. And this year, the Halifax Regional School Board elected Irvine Carvery as its chair, marking a milestone in African Nova Scotian history.

Like their predecessors, Halifax’s post-civil rights black citizens are up against the agenda of urban development. But this time around, they are determined to stand their ground. The city has an opportunity to show it has learned from past mistakes, and its black community is proving that it is as much a part of this mission as any developer or government representative.

“Our ideas and values and virtues are more important than the color of our skin,” says Downey. Already gunning for Mayor Kelly’s post, he foreshadows another, more hopeful connection to American society. “How do you think Barack Obama is the president of the United States?”