Author: Peter Fields (page 1 of 1)

As I arrived at the entrance to Capitol Hall, I ran into a few of my classmates. We waited outside — uncertain of where we were to begin our visit. Eventually one of us realized we needed to be inside, so we made our way accordingly. In hindsight, I can see that my unwillingness to enter was more apprehension of what would be inside than uncertainty of where we would meet.

It’s incredible to think of how I naturally try to keep the homeless at arm’s length — how afraid I am to really engage with them.

But that is why I am grateful to have gone to Capitol Hall. From beginning to end, my expectations were turned upside down, and I was constantly introduced to a new — a better way of approaching the problem of homelessness.

From the openness and determination of the Upper West side residents, to the resourcefulness and diligence of the social workers, to the kindness and thoughtfulness of the outreach workers, to the the intelligence and passion of the ones who run the Hall and the outreach program, to the gratitude of those who now call Capitol Hall their home — the whole scene rang with hope.

And for me, that was the most important thing. Usually when I try to inform myself about any problem that society is facing, it’s hard, because it isn’t easy to see any solution. But actually seeing people not afraid to tackle the problem — that made me want to understand the problem, think of possible solutions, and see that it is possible to find solutions. In short, in gave me hope.

For Kelling and Wilson of the Atlantic, if a window is broken, fix it right away to prove that somebody actually cares. But for Bob Gangi, what he opposes is the idea that if a window is broken, punish the breaker to the umpteenth degree.

This is why I am not surprised by Gangi’s reaction to this version of broken windows. Of course it leads to broken trust between the enforcers and the enforced. Why put trust in those who make it a policy (and put quotas on it!) to overreact? Add a bit of inherent bias and prejudice and you’re bound to get some people who say, “This is !@#$ed up.”

Gangi did not strike me as someone who proposed a solution, rather just a manifestation of a reaction. I agree with him; quota/broken windows policing doesn’t work. But his lack of knowledge of the history of the broken windows philosophy and how it devolved to what it is today was a clear sign to me that this problem was bigger than broken windows or no broken windows.

It’s about basic humanity. You can’t make a law that tells people to be good. No matter how much money you put into it or whatever plan you draw up, human beings tend to resist any non-organic method of generating solidarity. We have too many Utopia-turned-Dystopia novels to not understand this by now.

Before we have a conversation about getting rid of broken windows, we need to have a conversation about what our policies are trying to do: fix society or aid the natural goodness it tends toward all on its own?

Peter Fields

Was the Cross Bronx Expressway worth building? No.

This is true not because the CBE is riddled with traffic nowadays. It is not because a train would have been better. It is not even necessarily because thousands of families were displaced from their homes in the wake of the road’s construction. If one were to make any of these arguments, he would fall into the dialectic game of pros versus cons– a game that Robert Moses would eventually (and did in fact) win with his statement that the lives of some families in the way of a highway will not be remembered or cared about as history washes them away.

He was right. The masses don’t remember this particular diaspora. So to take on the question of the CBE from any utilitarian perspective leads to the justification of its existence.

The problem lies in logical fallacy of utilitarianism. Not only is it wrong; it is like a disease.

The neighborhood of East Tremont was a healthy part of the body of NYC. And interestingly enough, it became this way through it’s own organic means– a testimony to the good will of a community. It did not become this way because one man decided it would be so.

East Tremont’s demise began not when they received a letter to be evicted. It began when Robert Moses decided not to see humanity, but utility. This is the disease that did them in. The CBE was just a side effect.

Peter Fields

Perhaps 2 years ago, I was riding in the car with a friend of my father’s along 3rd avenue in Brooklyn — that avenue which runs below the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway (the BQE to most). I don’t remember the day clearly; it’s too similar to most traffic filled days. But one thing has stuck in my mind: my father’s friend’s description of how Robert Moses systematically cleared neighborhoods and displaced scores of people to build the BQE. Till now, I only thought of this act’s inhumanity, not it’s impact on urban logistics.

Till now, I didn’t realize the significance of the only other fact I remember about that day: we drove under the BQE, not on it. There was too much traffic to do that.

I don’t think Robert Moses intended to build the BQE so that people could drive under it. I don’t think he intended to build one of the most elaborate systems of roads in history just so that I would take the train to school for 3 hours a day for my first year of college. I don’t think he planned to build so many parks and beaches with the intention that it would be so time consuming and costly to get to them.

By no means, were the creations of Robert Moses an asset to New York City. I know from personal experience. After encountering his mess firsthand, I left Brooklyn for Manhattan, so I could be closer to school. But can I complain? At least I was able to leave of my own volition. At least my home wasn’t destroyed to make way for the BQE or some other Moses expressway.

At least I have a home.

Peter Fields