Author: Gabriel Cohen

As museums and city officials debate the tearing down of monuments and attempt to share the histories of previously marginalized groups in America, so too will they become battlegrounds between ethnic and social minorities and those hostile to those elements in their communities.

Elif Gokcigdem, a historian of Islamic art and historical journal editor stated “Museums and empathy are a powerful combination that can provide transformative experiences of dialogue, discovery, understanding and contemplation to all regardless of age or background.” This presupposes a state of open-mindedness and curiosity from the museum’s community. What happens if that same community is hostile to this transformation?

Age and background are a force at play when reinterpreting history. Opponents of newer and more inclusive interpretations conclude that reinterpretation is revision. These anti-revisionists are generally of either an older age-bracket than other museum visitors, or part of a group that is dominantly portrayed in the existing narratives. In light of this truth, museums must contend with newly hostile elements in their communities. Monuments sanctioned by the city serve much the same purpose as museums, and struggles to remove monuments that glorify those that brought pain to others are gaining momentum.

The most vicious battles have been, and will continue to be waged in the American south over interpretation of slavery and the Confederacy in museums and monuments. In recent years, there has been a call to action for Texas politicians to begin the process of historical reinterpretation of Confederate monuments. The Confederate monument at Travis Park with the inscription “Lest We Forget Our Confederate Dead” came down in 2017.

Anna Deluna , 47, a San Antonio resident came to witness the removal of the monument and shared her opinion. “We just wanted to see it come down. It just represents racism and inequality and oppression and we are glad now that it’s coming down. It just seems like nowadays things are really, really difficult with Trump being in power, race relations. Maybe the silver lining is statues like these and attention being brought to them.” Her boyfriend, Doyle Avant, 53 agreed “I think it’s disingenuous to say it’s just history and it’s heritage. The heritage argument is really nonsense.” Despite support from many San Antonio residents like these, death threats were made to the construction contractors and workers responsible for the monument’s demise.

Avant’s point about history and heritage, and the way many mistake the two is both poignant and relevant. It is poignant because those who must drive past Confederate monuments to work or school every day are reminded of the darker parts of their city’s heritage, not its history. The two must be distinguished. When an African-American goes past the Confederate monument to Jefferson Davis in Atlanta, they are not gaining any historical understanding of the Confederacy or the institution of slavery. The monument is simply indicative of what past residents of Atlanta deemed fit to glorify as part of their heritage as White southerners that dominated city politics. If there was a monument of Jefferson Davis signing the Confederate States Constitution, it would be closer to history – but still a monument to White southern heritage. These monuments inspire the few and bring grief to the many, so why not tear them all down, and throw them into the sea?

It’s an understandable impulse. However, these monuments in the context of a greater historical narrative do have value. Those protesting the removal of these monuments, even with their incredibly hostile rhetoric and willingness to resort to violence do have a point. Destruction of these heritage markers is historical revisionism. While their love for the darker aspects of their heritage, such as the condoning of slavery is disturbing, the Confederacy and all of its baggage is an important chapter in American history. These monuments could have use in educating future generations on the dangers of political tribalism and fueling racist ideologies. They must be reinterpreted, and not revised. Relocation of these monuments to museums or historical sites with other historical artifacts and museum professionals to interpret them is a far more pleasing solution. Those who are rightfully offended by their presence in prominent parts of their city no longer need see them every day, and those who value these monuments as part of their heritage may still visit them. Hopefully in the process, these people will gain knowledge about their histories and possibly, lose the misguided love they feel for the darkest elements in their heritage.

 

In the last thirty years, there has been a paradigm-shift in community perception towards museums. More and more museum professionals are becoming comfortable experimenting with exhibit format and taking risks. This change has resulted in museums becoming vessels for dialogue and a conduit between living history and the community. For example, the Ziibiwing Center of Anishinabe Culture and Lifeways had a very deliberate mission in mind, coupled with newer, riskier presentation methods. Their mission was to educate the public to the plight of contemporary Native Americans, share the history of the Anishinabe people, and serve as a place of healing for those who have experienced historical trauma. The Ziibiwing Center accomplished these feats through strict adherence to their mission statement:

The Ziibiwing Center is a distinctive treasure created to provide an enriched, diversified and culturally relevant educational experience. This promotes the society’s belief that the culture, diversity and spirit of the Saginaw Chippewa Indian Tribe of Michigan and other Great Lakes Anishinabek must be recognized, perpetuated, communicated and supported.

The clarity of their message, the relevance of their goals to the community and the sincerity shown served to lend the Ziibiwing Center’s mission a sense of urgency to their community. The museum is not just a repository of artifacts and knowledge. It serves as a proponent for social change and cultural preservation in their community. It is my belief that as museum experts become more professional and are drawn from academic backgrounds, museums will serve as a vanguard to inspire reforms in social justice, inspire unity and collaboration in communities. Museums and museum professionals will accomplish this feat by starting a dialogue with the community utilizing the language of history and cultural experience.

Since this is in some ways a departure from what museums have historically been, the mission statements of museums must be reflected upon as well. In  a sense, these ‘new model’ museums serve to inspire collaboration and empathy. ‘Old model’ museums served to educate the public on established truths with minimal room for dialogue and debate. Museums have historically served, as I stated before, as a repository of artifacts and knowledge. Many newer museums are performing this same task, while simultaneously valuing the input of their community and incorporating their stories into the running narrative. In this way, the ‘new model’ museum is a community center, a forum, a grief counselor, a cultural icon and a leader in the community. While this may be chasing an ideal somewhat, the proponents of the Ziibiwing Center would certainly testify to this statement’s truth. Museum professionals should continue to communicate history as a living, breathing entity that permeates every facet of our society. In doing so, museums will show that history is identity, and that the preservation of that history is a means to perpetuate the ‘life-ways’ of a community.

 

So, my term project took a rather interesting turn. Initially, I was going to be focusing my efforts on determining the nature of St. Mary’s University activism and outreach programs, and how they relate to other local universities. After that well ran dry, (and it did rather quickly), I turned to look more at how universities became more actively involved in their communities during the 1960’s as a result of a changing economic climate, the Chicano movement, (at least in San Antonio), and as a result of emerging grassroots organizations dedicated to improving local communities. Finally, I settled on an argument that the research i’d been doing actually supported. This came about almost by accident – while browsing through microfilm that documented issues of The Rattler, I became more and more aware that something was missing. There was discussion of local outreach programs and sponsorship of politically oriented committees, but there was almost no mention of any of the locales frequented by Chicano activists during the 1960’s. Further digging revealed an almost deliberate omission of any material documenting this area and St. Mary’s involvement there. I then turned my attention to learning more about local universities here in San Antonio, and the communities they reach out to in general. It became apparent that this wasn’t a rare scenario. It seems as though universities wanted to associate themselves with institutions that were considered of a higher caliber than those in the Westside, at least by popular conception. I became fascinated with the idea that universities can advocate social justice and outreach to local communities in need – but not to those the most desperate for aid. I was also made aware of the omission of information pertaining to the Chicano movement’s role at St. Mary’s. It’s almost as if the university was trying to disavow its role in the development of this group, and distinguish itself from the community around it. While I personally felt this was a bit appalling, I can understand it from ‘their’ perspective – or those who ran the university during the 1960’s. Catering to the needs of the community that saw the rise of a social activist party that utilized revolutionary rhetoric and possessed anti-establishment ideals certainly wasn’t their first priority. In more recent years, St. Mary’s has thankfully become more cognizant and supportive of its identity as an Hispanic Serving Institution (HSI). St. Mary’s has recently, (in the last 20 years), undertaken efforts to assist local school districts in need and help the working class of the area. However, this is a recent development and again – not their first priority. So, at the end of this very verbose discussion of my project, if I were going to break what my term project is all about into one sentence, it’d be something like the following:

St. Mary’s University has a long and illustrious history of outreach to communities in need, but has until recently publicly disavowed themselves of involvement in the Westside, and is only recently openly expressing pride and support of their identity as a Hispanic Serving Institution.

This topic is very interesting to me, as it is a discussion of our university. Furthermore, while we may possess relatively liberal views in contrast to those of the 1960’s on society and ethnicity, it is interesting to see just how much St. Mary’s perception of itself has changed over the years.

In the early years of the 17th century, Europe was in flames. The Thirty Years War ravaged the Holy Roman Empire from within and throughout. At stake was the future of Christianity and the legacy of the Roman Empire. From a distance, it seemed to be a war to determine whether Protestants or Catholics would dominate Europe. In reality, it was a small regional conflict which began in 1618 with the Defenestration of Prague. The war grew from a small conflict centered in Bohemia to envelop nearly all of Europe in a grand war steeped in power-politics. French military involvement was limited to funding the enemies of the Holy Roman Emperor during the early and middle phases of the war. Instead, France turned to its nominal ally Sweden to fight Its enemies for them.

Sweden was still a developing power – it had only been 100 years since a Danish king ruled Sweden under the Kalmar Union. Sweden’s people and resources, (specifically Its grain harvests) had been exploited by Denmark for over a century. During the hundred years following Its independence, things did not improve greatly. Sweden suffered at the hands of the Hanseatic League, which controlled the lucrative herring trade, as well as locking Sweden out of trade relations with most of the other Baltic nations. Moreover, the Swedish army suffered defeat after defeat, especially at sea. Rebellions plagued the country, and the barons took what they wanted. A series of tax reforms, a permanent break from Denmark, and the hereditary ownership of the Swedish crown by the Vasa family was the first step towards power for them.

Finland had been a Swedish territory since around 1250 CE. Throughout the middle ages, Finland had remained a very sparsely populated and rural land. Natural resources aren’t in abundance – the exception being fish. Sami fishermen, (Sami being the native population of Finland throughout the middle ages) made up the bulk of the coastal provinces. Villages were organized through ecclesiastical authorities, and in many ways it was simply a Swedish colony.

In 1628, Gustavus Adolphus, King of Sweden invaded the Baltic coast of Germany with his Finnish Hakkapeliitta cavalrymen and began a campaign to bring the Holy Roman Emperor to his knees.

The Hakkapeliitta were an exceptionally trained army of light cavalrymen. Their name is derived from the Finnish war-cry “Hakkaa päälle, pohjan poika“, which can be literally translated to ‘Hack through them, sons of the north!’ They were a form of cuirassier, or lightly armored cavalry equipped with sabers and firearms.

As they charged their enemies at full speed, they would fire a pistol shot at the enemy to disrupt their formation, and then slash through them with cold steel. Hakkapeliitta typically rode very small horses of the Finnhorse breed. They often performed flanking maneuvers and would bait the enemy into firing their first shot at an elusive and fast-moving target. At a time in history when reloading mechanisms for firearms were still quite slow and cumbersome, this was an invaluable tactic. The enemies of Sweden, who were primarily Catholic, came to have their own understanding of the Hakkapeliitta’s effectiveness.

 

They were witches.

Yes, throughout Germany and the Baltic coastline, the Hakkapeliitta came to have a reputation as practitioners of witchcraft. The Finnish horsemen were said to be invincible, and that gunfire would simply pass through them and leave them unharmed. Western Europe had relatively little knowledge of Finland and the native Sami people, and their understanding was that Finland was the frontier of Christianity, and the home of dark spirits. Finland had fairly recently been the target of the Baltic Crusades. In a time of relative ignorance, the Christian Finnish troops of the Hakkapeliitta were understood as Pagans and practitioners of black magic – it was the only explanation the western armies would accept for how the noble Christian knights of the west could be defeated.

Obviously they weren’t witches, but they were effective.

The Hakkapeliitta were instrumental in the Swedish victories at Breitenfeld (1631) and Lützen (1632), which effectively left Sweden the masters of northern Germany and with the potential to create a new Protestant Holy Roman Empire. The death of Gustavus Adolphus changed all of that, but for a brief moment – the fate of Europe hung in the balance of a small band of ‘witches’ on horseback.

Stories such as these are fundamental to the identities of their respective cultures, but are otherwise unknown to outsiders. I’ve found that the most engaging historical narratives for non-historians are those ‘oddball’ stories about groups often neglected in larger historical narratives. That being said, it’s a shame that researching topics like these is so difficult, and really only a possibility for native audiences. For example, when I was researching this project, I came upon a Finnish website run by their government, with a great deal of historical context for this period and the subject itself. However, I don’t speak Finnish, and neither do 99/100 people on earth. Hopefully, if subjects like these generate more interest, local groups will feel incentivized to translate their sources and appeal to broader audiences.

 

The Top-Down Approach in History

As described in my last post, the top-down approach is generally an easier method to construct a cohesive narrative – a story without voids in knowledge that would cast doubt on the accountability and thoroughness of the author. There is undoubtedly an unacknowledged fear of ignorance in authorship and the practice of history. I would argue that a healthy fear of perceived poor scholarship or having ‘loose ends’ is one of the largest factors that influences what projects are undertaken and in what format their creator chooses to utilize.

While many examples of work I would consider top-down are up for debate in the literary academic community, the fact that most history anthologies before recent years, (let’s suppose 1990 for the sake or argument) utilize the top-down methodology to construct narratives around authors’ arguments.

One of the most popular formats for producing historical materials in narrative format was the classical historical anthology series. A great example of this would be the Great Ages of Man book series, by TIME-LIFE. Each part of the anthology encompasses a wide breadth of knowledge about a particular region at a particular time. The series includes such titles as, Age of Faith, Age of Kings, and Age of Progress, which are all suggestive of ideas rather than localities. Also included are books like Ancient America and Early Japan, which do clearly suggest the locale and the timeframe. There are twenty-one books in the series, and only four take place outside of Europe. The ways in which the authors construct narratives in the non-European focused books inevitably lead into European contact and domination. This would suggest that the authors constructed the narratives with a specific endpoint in mind – the trend of European colonization and dominion is the culmination of world history. History has traditionally been the story of wealthy white men in power – this is established and a subject we’ve beaten over the head constantly in our discussions in class and elsewhere. As such it is not surprising that this series, created in the 1960’s utilized the same approach. But why?

Fear.

Again, it is fear of incorporating new narratives and challenging established authorities in history. It’s fear that years of research studying localities, traditions of indigenous people and interviewing a wide cross-section of people that prevents many from creating a truly original narrative. While many history anthologies do begin in such a way, if we’re to judge by the TIME-LIFE series, leading these new and interesting narratives of foreign people and cultures into the comfortable territory of European involvement and records is a way to preserve the establishment.

The Bottom-Up Approach In History

Finally, let’s talk about the bottom-up approach, Its incredible benefits, and also the deep challenges with this elaborate methodology. To begin, let’s think about the questions we ask as historians. Let’s assume the topic at hand is the lack of Tejano monuments in San Antonio, and the argument being made is that there are deep-seated feelings of resentment towards that community by those in power, and a fear of acknowledging the non-European histories of San Antonio. Obviously, yeah… this is a pretty aggressive argument to make, but is not one without foundation.

What should we ask? Where should we begin?

The Top-Down Historian: Well, I would begin by thinking about the socio-economic status and political efficacy of Tejanos in the state of Texas, in whose hands these decisions often end up. If Tejanos’ interests were equally important to those of whites in Texas, their history would be memorialized equally as well.

The Bottom-Up Historian: Whoa there, I didn’t know this would turn into an argument about politics and socio-economics. I thought the question was about the lack of Tejano monuments in San Antonio. We should restrict the questions to the community of San Antonio at first. Who are the Tejano leaders in San Antonio? What is the proportion of Tejano politicians to Anglo-American politicians? We should quantify Tejano monuments against European-style architectural monuments and determine the extent of the disparity. How vocal are Tejanos about the ways in which their history is being ignored? How do Anglos react? What community projects are there in San Antonio to memorialize Tejano historical buildings and artifacts?

From this brief conversation alone, it should be apparent that the bottom-up methodology is far more difficult to approach, but far more rewarding. Bottom-up has the potential to provide you with a greater number of relevant questions to ask, all the while allowing you to keep the subject in focus.

 

World-building is the authorial practice of developing an imaginary world. The practice encompasses the imagining of a history, a world ecology, topographical features, cultural features and more to enrich and entrench the overall narrative. More advanced world-building techniques include the development of religious communities, monuments and colloquial language. Those fictional universes that employ world-building successfully can hint at the larger narrative with the transition to a particular setting, the playing of a particular song, through artwork and design, and even the mention of a particularly inspiring or ominous name.*

The idea of world-building seems obvious and omnipresent, but it wasn’t always so. The term itself is dated only as far back as 1820, and some of the earliest writers to be attributed with performing this crucial task are J.R.R. Tolkien, H.P. Lovecraft and C.S. Lewis.* These writers all gained recognition in-and-around the 20th century, and inspired every generation since to adopt this practice wholeheartedly. These ‘big three’ are in many ways the gold-standard of world-building. I would argue some other great writers of the late 19th century, such as Lewis Carroll, were less concerned with world-building and more concerned with finding answers their own spiritual quandaries. The question, though, is this: Where did they mine all of their inspiration for their works? Did these authors just sit in their study and use their imagination for decades until they had enough to put on paper? Unsurprisingly, the answer is no. Tolkien was undoubtedly inspired by his father’s works, which included decades’ worth of fantasy writings, and also his involvement in The Great War. Tolkien witnessed firsthand the brutality of the war at the Battle of the Somme, while also being bewildered at the beauty of the mountainous regions of France and Switzerland. Bloodshed in the midst of beauty became a standard for Tolkien’s future writings. Lewis was influenced heavily by the interesting combination of Catholic dogma and Icelandic mythology. Many of the themes in his Chronicles of Narnia play upon these mythological narratives through figures that closely resemble biblical heroes. His childhood in Ireland would heavily influence the topography of his worlds and his religious background, the morality of his characters. Historians are still debating Lovecraft’s influences. Let’s just say his life, those who entered into it and left abruptly, and the sickliness he faced were enough to inspire him to seek other worlds and fill them with dark and wicked things.

These three great authors all applied the ‘top-down’ approach to world-building. This method would have authors create an overarching narrative or ‘grand history of the world’, and then populate this world with places, people and things that would make sense to the greater narrative. These worlds are often very stable due to how methodical the approach can be. However, the intricacies of particular social groups, individuals and the significance of artifacts and places tend to be generalized and draw from attributions made by the most developed and therefore dominant group. In contrast, there is the ‘bottom-up’ method of world-building, which is far more risky, but ultimately far more engaging and supportive of different world-views. Those authors that utilize this methodology first create individuals and the social groups they belong to. Those authors then place these groups into homes and communities, and construct for them local cultures and things of significance to their community. These worlds are built on a near-molecular level, with themes and narratives that are built on individuals, relationships and ideals that can be traced back to small groups. As the scope of the narrative grows larger, the surrounding areas are generally given less exposition, but are still anchored by how vividly the place of origin has been portrayed. With this method, authors can slowly construct a greater narrative while utilizing these smaller communities as a platform for growth. Ideally, most critics would argue that authors should employ both approaches, but this can be exceedingly difficult to do while managing to keep a cohesive narrative.  I would argue that attributing causation and correlation from top-down and bottom-up simultaneously is only possible with narratives with no room for interpretation or dispute. The profession of history is not dissimilar. For example, if one were to argue that the demise of France during the Napoleonic Wars can be attributed in equal measure to war-exhaustion on a national scale, and to the failure of a woodcutters guild in Provence to provide timber for a particular ship needed in the Mediterranean, anyone would look at you as if you were a crazy person. It’s an odd example, I know, but generally narratives and historical arguments are alike in this way. The direction you build your narrative in matters, regardless of your platform.

To be continued…

*Would Voldemort be as terrifying if we didn’t learn of his past as Tom Riddle, or of his departure from Dumbledore’s side? Would the name Sauron be synonymous with tyranny and fear if his path of conquest and destruction hadn’t endured for thousands of years before the narrative really begins? In both cases, power and a terrifying outward appearance is not the case. Think of how many terrible horror movies there are with figures more twisted and hideous than these two, yet do not inspire the tiniest amount of dread or make you recoil in the slightest.

*Why does every author born in the 1890’s have multiple initials in his name?

Before you ask… yeah, I read a lot of nerdy things when i’m not reading history books. I’d like to thank my mom and all of my crazy English Lit professors at UMCP for this.

For My People: The Margaret Walker Center, an article by Robert E. Luckett, Jr., was quite an inspiring story of the transformation of a local hero into a national hero and icon. The life and works of this cultural icon inspired multiple authors of great fame themselves, including Toni Morrison and Alex Haley. Walker’s novel Jubilee served as a major source of inspiration for both of these authors’ works. Walker has dedicated the last thirty years of her life to educating her community and the blossoming of a younger generation of African-American artists and authors. Among those she worked with was W.E.B Du Bois, and Walker was dedicated to answering those who would ask the questions, ‘Should we talk about slavery,’ and ‘how much should the younger generations know about the darker aspects of the African-American experience,’ with the firm answers of ‘Yes’ and ‘As much as possible.’ Walker did not conform her writings to have idealized and heroic figures that elevated African-Americans. Her realistic portrayal of the world and the dangers afoot in her time were enough to elevate her successors. Walker thought about the world the way her mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother did: “That the world is not the worst place in the world to be. That it’s what you make it and, if you look at it through dark colored glasses, it’s going to be a dark place to see.’’ Her service in promoting newer generations of African-American artistry and authorship through her clear expression of the world and her experiences has been forever memorialized by a center bearing her name.

Digitization of of collections is receiving increased attention by curators, as the benefits from technology become more evident and more accessible over time. Many institutions are hesitant to adopt this change, due to the expense, effort and risks involved. Others are far more open to the idea and see it as something that should simply be an expectation of museums and all educational platforms of the future. Secretary of the Smithsonian Institution G. Wayne Clough made a strong case for such change:

“Today digital technology is pervasive. Its use, particularly by the world’s youth, is universal; its possibilities are vast; and everyone in our educational and cultural institutions is trying to figure out what to do with it all. It is mandatory that museums, libraries, and archives join with educational institutions in embracing it.”

The Smithsonian Institute boasts over 14 million items in their collection, so the fact that he is in such fervent support of digitization, even with such a monumental task ahead of him makes the claim even more credible.

 

As more museum operators are becoming acquainted with the tools necessary for digitization, and the process becomes popularized, many newer museums are establishing guidelines and expectations for their exhibits to be digitized from the beginning.

Right from the Start: The Digitization Program at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of African American History and Culture, by Laura Coyle, discussed one such museum. The Smithsonian’s National Museum of African American History and Culture, which opened on September 24, 2016. It did so “…beginning with nothing, and having a staff, collection, and museum to build, there was plenty to do, but the museum still committed to a digitization program well before it opened.” (Coyle) There are many reasons for their dedication to this monumental task, including making their collection more accessible and preserving artifacts which will degrade over time, even in the best of environments. Achieving the task of full digitization is a much more accessible goal for museums that begin the process from the beginning, but for others, it’s a nightmarish concept. Museums with little to no funding or backing, and those with collections that are hard to digitize, with fragile or difficult to move collections, the process is incredibly risky and seemingly impossible given the amount of man-hours and technology required. Hiring a team of digitization specialists, or ‘digi-techs’ is simply out of reach for them.

As the technology becomes cheaper and therefore more accessible, and as the technical experts and engineers necessary for such a task become more numerous, full digitization of most collections might be an achievable goal. For now, i’d argue that this luxury is limited only to those institutions with large amounts of funding and the national exposure necessary to warrant a need for such accessibility.

The Birmingham race riots of 1963 left a scar on the city that sixty years could not heal. In 1990, the Birmingham Civil Rights Institute chose to embrace Birmingham’s legacy of progress amidst violence. Priscilla Hancock Cooper’s article A City Embraces Its Past, Looks to the Future illuminated me as to the changes implemented by the BCRI, despite strong backlash from the community, and alarm and resistance from Birmingham based businesses and corporations. The BCRI did nothing to alleviate the concerns of the community in choosing the site for their institute – adjacent to Sixteenth Street Baptist Church, which was the site of the 1963 Children’s Campaign composed of young demonstrators, as well as a bombing by those hostile to the movement. Cooper’s article begs the question of what extent are local historians willing to go to establish their site in an iconic place despite the hostility they must face to do so in such a contentious area. The location conjures feelings of hope and pain in equal measure, so it is understandable that many elements in the Birmingham community are hostile to the BCRI’s mission. The BCRI endures though, and the power of their exhibits is only anchored by the location they chose to display them.

“Reclaiming” Detroit by Kaeleigh Herstad was quite a gripping expose on potential damages that urban renewal and gentrification can have to history and the legacy of the people inhabitating the area. Most of us are familiar with the state of urban decay that has been ongoing in Detroit for decades, and arguably for the better part of the last century. Efforts are being made by city officials and representatives of private interest groups to destroy and rebuild the numerous blighted districts of Detroit. Consequently, entire blocks of historic neighborhoods and business are being leveled and reconstructed. Herstad argues that while the motivations of these officials is for ‘the greater good’ and to create progress and make the city more affluent, the legacy and ‘proof’ of the true heritage of the city are being destroyed piece by piece. At its core, Herstad argued that issues of racism are at play and acting in force with the removal of the ‘blight’ afflicting Detroit. Therefore, while actively rebuilding and renovating the area might improve quality of life, it may also be making the elements that made the blight come into place in the first place obscured and less likely to be dealt with in the future. The issues of racism and how it affects discrepancies in income and education are argued to be one of the primary sources of the problem, and with the destruction of that legacy, it is likely a problem to persist and occur again in some years.