By Vince Carducci, May 5th, 2011 
I have a friend, a longtime resident first of Carroll Gardens and now Cobble Hill, who refers to Brooklyn as “God’s country.” This notion of the borough as a site of pristine authenticity is central to Suleiman Osman’s book The Invention of Brownstone Brooklyn: Gentrification and the Search for Authenticity in Postwar New York. Osman, an assistant professor of American Studies at George Washington University, grew up in Park Slope toward the tail end of the era he surveys, but his study is informed by a comprehensive understanding of the forces that have shaped the urban environment not only in New York but in other parts of America in the years 1950 to 1980. It is a highly nuanced investigation into the oftentimes contradictory interests at play during the period.
As opposed to many studies of postmodern redevelopment, Suleiman finds that gentrification in postwar Brooklyn wasn’t the work of a cabal of bankers, real estate speculators, and government bureaucrats but more the generally unintended result of a well-meaning grassroots effort that sought to negotiate a middle ground between the alienating effects of large-scale, top-down urban renewal projects on the one hand, and the perceived banality of life in the suburbs on the other. The culprits, if one wants to call them that, were typically lawyers, academics, artists, and other well-educated members of the postindustrial service economy looking for a sense of terroir, i.e., local rootedness, against the anomie of modernist administrative society.
The first of the so-called urban frontiers to be rehabilitated was Brooklyn Heights, the area of early nineteenth-century mansions overlooking the East River that by the end of the Second World War had physically declined, with dramatically falling property values . Many of these stately townhouses had been abandoned or subdivided and converted into low-cost rental units. But by the end of the 1940s these structures were being restored and less-affluent tenants displaced by the forebears of what David Brooks has called “Bourgeois Bohemians.” (Indeed, I, a BoBo as I live and breathe, for a while rented a much more upscale version . . .
Read more: Suleiman Osman’s The Invention of Brownstone Brooklyn: Gentrification and the Search for Authenticity in Postwar New York
By Iddo Tavory, April 25th, 2011 
Last week, Harold Garfinkel, one of the greatest sociologists of the second half of the 20th century, died. He was 93. Garfinkel, actually, would have scoffed at the idea of being called a sociologist. When he came of age, sociologists were too engaged in abstractions, in attempts to make sweeping generalizations. Though Garfinkel himself was the student of one of the greatest systematizers of them all, Talcott Parsons, he took a radically different stance.
Instead of allying himself with this way of doing sociology, Garfinkel turned to the New School, and the work of exiled philosopher Alfred Schutz, as a way out of grand abstractions. Instead of looking at society in the abstract, he slowly built up a language that would allow him to study what was going on in the here-and-now, the way people actually made sense of their world as they went along in the business of living. Instead of Society, with a capital “S,” he became immersed in the methods people use to make a situation what it is. In his apt, and often misunderstood, term, he became interested in ethnomethodology.
In the context of the 1960s, ethnomethodology became a banner for studying the actual way people navigate their lives. Intellectuals that were disillusioned with abstract sociology, people like Harvey Sacks, Emanuel Schegloff, Mel Pollner, and even the writer Carlos Castaneda, became allied with what was emerging as a movement on the West Coast of the USA, with its headquarters in UCLA, where Garfinkel did some of his most important work.
Though Garfinkel’s thought is rich and complex, and evolved throughout his life, there are a few themes that he stayed true to since his groundbreaking 1967 Studies in Ethnomethodology. One is how inherently fragile our world was, how much work went into sustaining it, work that was not natural, but could be always undone. In John Heritage’s terms, order was constructed in the making, like The Beatles’ “Yellow Brick Road.” To show that, and to show how we constantly work to sustain . . .
Read more: In Memoriam: Harold Garfinkel
By Irit Dekel, April 11th, 2011 
“As I came to Jenin in 2003, I found a swamp, a jungle, steaming with struggles to survive. Here they need hospitals, not a theatre, I thought.” Mr. Juliano Mer-Khamis, in an interview to the Berlin Newspaper Tagesspiegel in early 2010 in Jenin, re-published after his assassination on April 6, 2011.
Mr. Mer-Khamis (53), an Israeli and Palestinian actor, was shot dead on April 4 by masked militants at the entrance to the theatre he built in 2006 in the west bank city of Jenin, “The Freedom Theatre.” He started the theater in Jenin in 2006 following a call from his friend Zakaria Zubeidi, an Al-Aqsa-Brigades fighter, or what we Israelis usually think of as a terrorist. Moving with his wife and children to live in the refugee camp of Jenin, Mr. Mer-Khamis said in several interviews, was a choice he made between being on the side of the soldier and the checkpoint, or on that of the little girl who has no future and no hope.
I first read about the assassination in the Israeli press, linked on friends’ Facebook pages. I was surprised to discover how many of “their friends” reacted directly to the question of whether Mer-Khamis’s actions were just (many users expressed their loathing of his activism, much like replies to the same articles in Israeli news sites).
Journalists and bloggers also asked themselves whether this terrible murder stands as a warning sign to not mix art and politics as Mer-Khamis did in his acting in Israeli theaters, and to not openly criticize both Israeli militarism and the occupation and Palestinian society for its religious narrow mindedness.
There were two camps mourning the murder. On the one hand, there were those who concluded that it was the result of the inhuman, dark and theocratic Palestinian society. It could not tolerate boys and girls acting and playing together and rejected the secular content of the Freedom Theatre’s plays. The other camp lamented the tear in the very identity of Mer-Khamis himself. He tried to be a bridge between the “impossible worlds” in his . . .
Read more: On the Assassination of Juliano Mer-Khamis: Fighting for the Freedom of the Everyday
By Benoit Challand, April 7th, 2011 
Modern media technology is on the mind of everyone analyzing the ongoing Arab revolts. It is also a great didactic tool that can change perspectives inside out, both for students and for their teachers.
Last week, as part of my New School undergraduate class, “Civil Society and Democratization in the Middle East,” I organized a video conference connecting my twelve students with a group of students and activists from Gaza City. Video conference is a bit exaggerated because the New School does not have such a facility, although the two existing universities in the Gaza Strip have the latest technology available. If this were still needed, we had confirmation that Arabs are on top of their technology (and that more money is needed from the Gates Foundation to equip American research institutions). Despite fear of a power failure (as is frequently the case in Gaza) and a bricolage of Skype with a laptop connected to the video-projector, the connection was smooth and the flow of questions on both sides lasted more than an hour and a half.
The Palestinian students were in the MBA and Journalism programs at Al-Azhar University (the college closer in line with the nationalist party Fatah, while the Islamist University is under Hamas’ hegemony). They were chosen for their fluency in English by a former Ph.D. colleague, a long time Palestinian activist and social scientist. The five Palestinian interlocutors (two women speaking articulately and more passionately than their shy male colleagues) responded to my students’ questions with great nuance and passion. The most outspoken student was a female journalist, half Libyan and half Palestinian. Unlike the other students, who showed less enthusiasm for the international coalition’s bombings in Libya, she was very glad to see that, at least once, the international community was standing by its word in defending an anti-dictatorial protest movement.
  . . .
Read more: Live from Gaza
By Jeffrey C. Goldfarb, March 21st, 2011 
The DC discussion last week about the catastrophes in Japan, as well as about the photography of John Ganis depicting the degradation of the environment by human activity, suggests to me an important aesthetic issue, not immediately tied to the moral and political problems of the day, but illuminating them. We must remember in this time of crisis that the taming of the natural world doesn’t only degrade but also enhances our environment and its beauty.
I often think about this running around my neighborhood. I have two basic running routes, one involves just going out my front door, down a long winding road in the direction of Washington Irving’s House, Sunnyside, continuing my run on the Old Croton Aqueduct, a very beautiful and exhilarating experience. Even more spectacular is an alternative run requiring a short car ride to the compound of the Rockefeller family. The Rockefellers still live in its many mansions and fine homes, but a significant portion of their estate has become a beautiful state park, with 40 miles of bridal paths, now making for a runner’s paradise.
Bill Clinton sometimes runs at Rockefeller, as does Khalid Khannouchi, a former world record holder in the marathon and many lesser runners from the area and way beyond. Running there is like running through a Jane Austen novel. This is no accident. The paths and bridges were designed by John D. Rockefeller Jr. for John D. Rockefeller Sr. The hills and valleys and the streams are like those in the woods closer to my house. But I make a point to go to the park, as Junior’s gift for his great robber baron father demonstrates the beauty of human intervention and imagination. This is clear at all times, in good weather and in bad.
A few years ago, a hurricane brushed our area, washing away one of the bridges. Many of these (designed . . .
Read more: Man Enhances Nature? Reflecting on Two Bridges
By Gary Alan Fine, March 17th, 2011 
Today, as we think about the developing catastrophe in Japan, we will consider the problem of distant suffering and the limits of human empathy with the help of Gary Alan Fine. We start in this post with Adam Smith’s reflections from his The Theory of Moral Sentiments, followed by Fine’s commentary on this classic passage. Later today, Fine will explore the odd, very human, relationship between horror, humor and the human condition. -Jeff
“Let us suppose that the great empire of China, with all its myriads of inhabitants, was suddenly swallowed up by an earthquake, and let us consider how a man of humanity in Europe, who had no sort of connexion with that part of the world, would be affected upon receiving intelligence of this dreadful calamity. He would, I imagine, first of all, express very strongly his sorrow for the misfortune of that unhappy people, he would make many melancholy reflections upon the precariousness of human life, and the vanity of all the labours of man, which could thus be annihilated in a moment. He would too, perhaps, if he was a man of speculation, enter into many reasonings concerning the effects which this disaster might produce upon the commerce of Europe, and the trade and business of the world in general. And when all this fine philosophy was over, when all these humane sentiments had been once fairly expressed, he would pursue his business or his pleasure, take his repose or his diversion, with the same ease and tranquillity, as if no such accident had happened. The most frivolous disaster which could befal himself would occasion a more real disturbance. If he was to lose his little finger to-morrow, he would not sleep to-night; but, provided he never saw them, he will snore with the most profound security over the ruin of a hundred millions of his brethren, and the destruction of that immense multitude seems plainly an object less interesting to him, than this paltry misfortune of his own. To prevent, therefore, this paltry misfortune to himself, . . .
Read more: On Moral Sentiments in Shaky Times
By Jeffrey C. Goldfarb, March 16th, 2011 
Yesterday, I opened my report on budget problems at my local community center. I showed that our local concerns were very much connected to global problems. Now I turn to how people took responsibility for the problems, or more accurately did not directly confront them, revealing a seamy side of politics as usual in America. The key figure is Town Supervisor Paul Feiner.
The supervisor was passionate about only one issue: the fact that there were inaccuracies on the unsigned flier announcing the meeting about proposed budget cuts of the Theodore D. Young Community Center. In Feiner’s response to the A&P closings in the primarily African American surrounding community and when it came to the budget of the center, he was the cool bureaucrat. He denounced the anonymous author of the flier, revealing real anger. On the defensive, he declared that the rumor that the center would close was absolutely not true. I was relieved. But when it came to details about the center’s budget, he was evasive, without passion, using clichés to deflect responsibility, stoking the anger of the community.
Feiner and the Town Board’s basic position: because of revenue short falls, the town was faced with a choice, there had to be either significant tax increases or program cuts to balance the budget. In order to rationally meet the challenge, the board was asking all the relevant commissioners to outline possible ways to cut programs. I am sure there was a target provided, but from the public discussion I didn’t catch it. The impact of proposed cuts would be weighed against their impact on programs by the board in the fall. Feiner emphasized that no program was being targeted and that the goal was to deliver lean and efficient good governance. Strikingly, he used procedure to evade answering any question about specific programs.
The seniors were particularly concerned about their group trips. The swim teams emphasized how important swimming was to them. A former director of . . .
Read more: Institutionalized Racism?
By Jeffrey C. Goldfarb, March 15th, 2011 
Recently, I went to a meeting concerning the budget of the Theodore D. Young Community Center. It revealed the tragedy of the cult of fiscal austerity during a prolonged economic downturn and high unemployment.
The Center is a special place for me. I swim there three or four times a week. I chat with my friends, most of whom I came to know during Barack Obama’s campaign to be President. The staff of the center and the community they serve are primarily African American, although there is a diverse cliental. I was the white guy who first canvassed the place for Obama, when most people at the center were still skeptical. For me, it’s a happy place, where I satisfy my exercise addiction, and where I can see the America that I imagine is emergent, multi-racial, multi-cultural, where people of different classes pursue happiness together, from the kids who go to after school programs and summer day camp to the senior citizens playing bingo, to teens roller skating and playing basketball, to the members of the Asian culture club, to the swimmers such as myself. It’s my American dream come true. Of course, as with all dreams, American and otherwise, there are disrupting realities that often force us to wake up. Such was the case with the budget meeting. I present my reflections on the meeting in two posts. First, this afternoon, I reflect on the context as I approached the meeting and as it opened. Tomorrow, I will report on the discussion about the community center, and its implications. I went to the meeting concerned. I left dismayed.
I read a flier announcing the event urging attendance. It warned of program cuts, highlighting many of the most popular, including the pool. Rumors were flying that the center was slated to be closed, which weren’t true. But in the age of government deficits and fiscal austerity, cuts sadly and irrationally seem inevitable.
I say irrationally because I know that this is not the time for spending cuts, despite the cutting frenzy in Washington D.C. and across the nation. It . . .
Read more: Community Center Cuts and the Closing of an A&P
On the occasion of International Women’s Day, contributing editor Esther Kreider-Verhalle reflects on some problems of daily life in New York City that she and many women (and men) face in our changing times. -Jeff
A couple of weeks ago, Jeff wrote how change is all around us, but doesn’t necessarily have an effect on the underlying realities of the human condition. The original French saying he used, “Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose,” the more things change, the more they stay the same, has been on my mind as I have been introduced into the rituals of applying for preschool in New York City. During this process, it was another saying that started haunting me: “the only thing constant is change.”
Next school year, my son will be eligible for preschool. Since the end of the 90s, New York State has offered free, voluntary pre-kindergarten classes for children age 4 and 5. While children are not required to attend school here until they are six, for many working parents, sending their kids to daycare, a nursery, preschool, or kindergarten is the logical thing to do.
Our parents, particularly my parents back in the Netherlands, may not relate to our issues. The dads worked while the moms stayed at home, caring for the kids. By the time we turned four, our mothers dropped us off at one of the local schools. There was no tuition or it was nominal. For sure, a lot less than the ten thousand dollars that is the yearly tuition at the private school in my neighborhood – and which preferably is prepaid before the beginning of the school year (ten percent off if you pay it well in advance!)
A generation ago, the school day also tended to be a longer, maybe not a full day, but certainly not the meager two and a half hours that NYC public preschools now offer. Who will pick up children after a couple of hours in one school, to chaperone them to another daycare facility, where the working parents can pick them up . . .
Read more: Things Change: Preschool in New York
By Jeffrey C. Goldfarb, February 18th, 2011 
I am old enough to still be amazed by modern media; young and open enough to not be beguiled.
This morning I had an exchange with DC contributor Andras Bozoki. Yesterday, I had sent him, along with other DC contributors, an email message, asking for a brief bio and a photo for our enhanced and updated contributors’ page. He responded to me from China, where, unbeknownst to me, he is giving a few lectures in Hong Kong, and visiting other major cities. We took care of our mundane business. He’ll get back to me with the bio and photo upon his return home to Budapest. I invited him to write something about what he is seeing in China. He told me that he is quite busy these days, and not sure he will have the time to write, but he will contribute to DC if he writes anything about the very interesting things he is seeing on his trip. Let’s hope he finds the time.
Every Saturday or Sunday, my wife, Naomi, and I in New York have a Skype visit with our daughter, Brina, and her family, husband, Michel, and son, Ludovic, in Paris. Two weeks ago, we saw Ludo taking his first hesitant steps. Last week, walking had already become his primary means of locomotion, moving fluidly around their study, picking up his toys, now with two hands, finding more problematic materials (his daddy is an artist), more easily getting into trouble. This Sunday we will celebrate Ludovic’s first birthday. They will open the present we sent via snail mail. We will sing Happy Birthday, knowing that next year he will actually understand and look forward to the festivities. One of the great pleasures I had as a father was reading the good night book. I figure around that next birthday that may become a regular ritual between Ludo and me, as it was between me and my children.
When I explain to people about DC, trying to recruit . . .
Read more: The More Things Change the More They Stay the Same
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