Summerhill: The neighborhood the Braves will leave behind

The announcement yesterday that the Atlanta Braves will leave downtown Atlanta for suburban Cobb county made me wonder about the future of the Braves current neighborhood, Summerhill. When I started studying the history of development in intown Atlanta about 10 year ago, I was not very familier with this neighborhood which is largely hidden under interstate overpasses and surface parking lots. However, its story is a sad and only slightly exaggerated metaphor for neoliberal Atlanta. I’m exerpting a bit of my disseration below in case anyone is interested. If you want it, you can get the whole thing over here: http://pid.emory.edu/ark:/25593/78k7h

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pages 68 – 71

The Effect of the Olympics on Intown Neighborhoods
Between 1990 when the International Olympic Committee announced it had selected Atlanta as the site of the Centennial Games and the summer of 1996 when the Games actually took place, Atlanta witnessed dramatic and sometimes frustrating changes. Though the entire metropolitan area was affected by the games, the focal point of the activity was the so-called “Olympic Ring” which was the name given to the three-mile radius which spread out from the center of Downtown. This is a particularly interesting fact because the 1996 Games were remarkably centralized despite the fact that Atlanta itself was, and remains, famously de-centralized. This was by no means an accident and represented a major victory for downtown’s business and political elite.

While the city and its residents no doubt enjoyed the honor of having been selected for the Games and were understandably excited the chance to show themselves off for an international audience, there were some very practical concerns which led to the decision to pursue the Games in the first place. First, the games represented a golden opportunity to the political and business elite who had sought for years to attract this kind of attention to the downtown area. Furthermore, and more concretely, a study commissioned by ACOG from the Selig Center, an economic think-tank and the University of Georgia, estimated that the games direct spending by ACOG would generate $1.1 billion in earnings for the state while visitor spending would generate an additional $814 million. Furthermore, the same study predicted the games would add 77,000 jobs to the state across a variety of industries (Humphreys and Plummer 1995).

ACOG promised state and local politicians that the costs of preparing for the games – including administration, promotion and construction – would be covered by sponsorships and they tried their best to make sure this happened by initially charging $40 million for exclusive sponsorship deals though they later had to drop the price when corporations were unwilling to pay (Rutheiser 1996, 258-259). However, Larry Keating argues, in his book Atlanta: Race Class and Urban Expansion, “a careful analysis of exactly how much money federal, state and local governments actually spent on preparing the city and putting on the games reveals that the cost to taxpayers exceeded Olympic-generated government revenue by a wide margin” (Keating 2001, 143). According to Keating’s calculations, which took into account thirty discreet public funding sources and fourteen categories of expenditure, the total public cost of the Games reached over $1.05 billion (Keating 2001, 148). Exactly how to understand this figure is tricky because it must be measured against the revenue that has resulted from the increased publicity and international prestige the games brought to the city and this figure is almost impossible to honestly calculate.

While the debate over the actual financial bottom line of the games will most likely continue as long as anyone cares to take it up, an equally contentious debate continues in tandem with it over the effects the Games had on the social geography of the city. Of particular concern are the effects the Games had on Downtown residents in Summerhill which is the neighborhood nearest the Olympic Stadium. Furthermore, the communities at Techwood and Clark Howell Homes; two public housing projects just west of the central business district and right in the middle of the “Olympic Ring” were not only changed but totally removed. Each of these areas were sites of massive construction projects related to the Games and, in Keating’s assessment, one of the lasting impressions of the Games was the “arrogant disregard displayed by ACOG for those adversely affected by the facilities it built” (Keating 2001, 143).

Summerhill
The neighborhood of Summerhill is south, and slightly east of Downtown. Historically a working class neighborhood, it has perhaps suffered the most from Atlanta’s growth over the years. In the 1960s, blocks of structures were demolished in Summerhill to make way for, first Fulton County Stadium and, a few years later, the construction of Interstate 20. In the 1980s, Interstate 75/85 – the so-called “Downtown Connector” – was directed away from Downtown and right through the middle of Summerhill. In preparation for the Olympics, Summerhill was once again selected as the home of a new stadium, the Olympic Stadium, which would later become Turner Field and home of the Braves after the older stadium was demolished.

Neighborhood residents formed an advocacy group called Atlanta Neighborhoods United for Fairness (ANUFF) to organize against the stadium’s construction. They argued that more construction and more traffic would further disrupt their community. However, the Atlanta Journal-Constitution “accused ANUFF of NIMBYism [Not In My Back Yard] and lack of public spirit” (Burbank, Andranovich, and Heying 2001, 104). This seems particularly callous given that the neighborhood had sacrificed so much for the city’s development over the previous three decades.

In addition to being attacked by the media, Keating reports that the partnership that had formed between ACOG and the Braves concerning the construction of the new stadium “would not allow representatives from the neighborhoods adjacent to the stadium to participate in their planning sessions and the plan they came up with did very little to limit the damaging effect of the stadium on these low-income black neighborhoods” (Keating 2001, 144). Having been relegated to the role of junior partner in the Olympic planning process, the city could do very little to help the people of Summerhill. Ultimately, the stadium was built at the cost of several blocks of homes and commercial structures in at least three neighborhoods. At the time, Summerhill could claim a small victory in that they were able to secure a pledge of $450,000 for neighborhood redevelopment and job training programs. Furthermore, Greenlea Commons, a townhome development in Summerhill, was constructed for the games and the units were rented to Olympic officials – at a cost of $20,000 each for the duration of the games – which allowed the homes to be sold at affordable rates after the games were over. Burbank et al. posit that “Greenlea Commons became an anchor for neighborhood revitalization” (Burbank, Andranovich, and Heying 2001, 105). However, in Atlanta, neighborhood revitalization generally means higher prices and resident displacement as well as the disruption of longstanding social networks. In this sense, the authors are absolutely correct.

Works Cited

Burbank, Matthew, Gregory Andranovich and Charles Heying. Olympic Dreams: The
Impact of Mega-Events on Local Politics. Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner
Publishers, 2001.

Humphreys, Jeffrey and Michael Plummer. “The Economic Impact of Hosting the 1996
Summer Olympics.” Selig Center for Economic Growth. 1995.
http://www.terry.uga.edu/selig/olympics [accessed September 24, 2009].

Keating, Larry. Atlanta: Race, Class and Urban Expansion. Philadelphia: Temple UP,
2001.

Rutheiser, Charles. Imagineering Atlanta: The Politics of Place in the City of Dreams.
London: Verso, 1996.

Digital Humanities or Just Humanities

[ This is the text of a brief talk I wrote as part of the Makers’ Culture and the Future of English Studies panel at the 2013 meeting of the South Atlantic Modern Language Association. I would like to thank Mark Bousquet for bringing us together and Brian Croxall, Rebecca Burnett and David Fisher for allowing me to present with them.]

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I want to begin with a potentially disappointing disclaimer; while the title of this talk is Digital Humanities or Just Humanities I’m not actually going to answer that question. Rather, I want to use the existence of the question as a jumping off point to talk about what this whole thing looks like from my perspective as a digital scholarship librarian.

If that sounds like I’m sidestepping something, it’s because I am. I’m uncomfortable with the binary – this or that – and I detect a bit of defensiveness in the very asking of the question; an attempt to re-inscribe emerging and challenging ideas into a safe and familiar field. The question seems to ask for some reassurance that everything will be OK and that the computers won’t really change what we think of as the humanities. There are many appropriate and necessary critical responses to what might broadly be thought of as “the digital” but dismissing it as a trend or trying to rhetorically neutralize it is a wasted opportunity.

There is no need to retell the genesis story of the name Digital Humanities but it is worth remembering that the term emerged to describe a relatively focused field that utilized computers for organizing, displaying and searching for patterns within digitized texts. Over the past 4 or 5 years, the term Digital Humanities has expanded beyond its birthplace and is currently at the point where it is routinely deployed with varying levels of precision and responsibility. It may have become embarrassingly trendy for a little while as well. I do not have to tell this group that this happens all the time; words acquire new meanings and fields of inquiry evolve. I don’t want to argue for the purity of any one single definition but, for the sake of clarity, I do want to create a few categories within what is becoming the increasingly stuffed bag of DH.

  • Digital Publishing :: online journals, eBooks,
  • Scholarly Social Networking :: Twitter, Facebook, Academia.edu, blogs
  • Digital Pedagogy :: classroom tech, MOOCs
  • Digital Libraries :: online archives, repositories, databases
  • Humanities Computing :: data visualization, distant reading (text mining/analysis), computational linguistics

This expansion of what counts as digital humanities has changed the way some scholars think of what counts as their work and the concept of building has emerged to differentiate some work from a more contemplative and traditionally discursive humanities.

I don’t want to make too much of this distinction though; while we can obviously think of traditional humanities writing and lecturing in terms of building, digital tools allow us to really extend that in deeply engaging ways to include dynamic, multi-modal projects. My fellow panelists will cover classroom-based building but we can also point to the emergence of digital methods and widespread adoption of digital tools in humanities research. I’m thinking of the building of digital corpora, databases and visualization exhibits as well as the codes, scripts and algorithms that help us create and analyze them. Graduate student training, particularly methods training, has been expanded to include hands-on work building projects collaboratively. Likewise, digital publishing has given us the ability to build dynamic and interactive content into scholarly essays, articles and books.

I first became aware of this particular thread of the conversation, this emphasis on building, when I attended my first THATCamp. The Humanities and Technology Camp is an unconference. That means that sessions are proposed, selected and scheduled by the attendees more or less on site. There are no presentations or PowerPoints and the focus is on skill sharing and collaborative creation. Something you are likely to hear at THATCamp is “less yack, more hack.” The unofficial slogan playfully and explicitly draws a distinction between THATCamp and more traditional gatherings. If a traditional conference, such as this one, is focused on individual scholars reporting on the conclusions of their research, THATCamp seeks to start projects, build communities and provide hands-on training for tools.

There are several things about the kind of makers’ culture exemplified by THATCamp that are very attractive to me:

  • the act of building can produce new insights
  • a more haptic humanities is almost necessarily more collaborative.
  • these tools often make projects more engaging for wider audiences

Of course, what I see as the benefits of building, others may see as the drawbacks. Building requires learning new skills. Collaboration requires time and, occasionally, compromise. And some of us really like the fact that most people don’t understand what we do. We’d never say that of course but I think it’s pretty obvious.

Other concerns came to the fore in early 2011 after Steve Ramsay, speaking at MLA, stated explicitly that digital humanities is about building and suggested that digital humanists needed to know how to code. As “digital humanities” had popped up in a number of job ads and appeared to have caught the attention of numerous funding agencies, Ramsay’s remarks provoked some anxiety amongst an already anxious group. Furthermore, some thought the comment was elitist and created an exclusive in-group. This was puzzling, of course, for all the DH scholars who had been toiling away in relatively low prestige quarters of the academy for years and had built a radically egalitarian scholarly network committed to open access and freely available open source software.

In hindsight, the ensuing conversation was great. Some really important issues were placed on the table particularly around race and gender and who gets to participate in the digital humanities. For example, how could it be that men would routinely outnumber women at DH gatherings? This is common in the tech industry but not in the humanities. Along the same lines, why were these gatherings usually predominantly white? The community had to ask itself – and needs to continue asking itself – if there is anything structural causing this and if there is anything proactive they could do to stop it.

I also appreciated the conversation around whether or not the use of digital tools has always been adequately theorized. Are we sure we are not mistaking superficially dazzling for truly insightful? Is it our role as scholars to confront the sometimes shocking labor practices and dangerous environmental impact of the tech sector that fuels our work but is completely hidden from us and allowed to remain hidden by us?

We have seen a few attempts to engage these concerns in the form of critical code studies, THATCamp Feminisms, THATCamp HBCU and an active network of scholars using social media to talk about postcolonial studies under the name DH PoCo. Josh Honn, Digital Scholarship Fellow at the Center for Scholarly Communication & Digital Curation at Northwestern writes,

what I am advocating for is a more central role in DH for this skeptical digital work, both embedded in and existing outside of the digital projects and tools we use and build.

– Never Neutral: Critical Approaches to Digital Tools and Culture in the Humanities

 There is clearly still work to do on this front and I hope that kind of critical embrace characterizes the next chapter of this story.

Ultimately, and to get back to the question I sidestepped at the beginning, I don’t think it really matters if you want to say digital humanities or something else. What will matter is whether or not you are doing good work, ethical work and work that makes effective and rigorous use of the tools and methods that are available whether they be digital or not. I don’t recommend adding digital tools just because you think its cool but I absolutely advocate taking some time to experiment to see if something might be useful.

Atlanta, GA
November 7, 2013

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Further Reading:

Stephen Ramsay: On Building

Stephen Ramsay, Why I’m In It

THATCamp, About

Postcolonial Digital Humanities, Mission Statement

Josh Honn, Never Neutral: Critical Approaches to Digital Tools and Culture in the Humanities