Preserving community
Citizens just need to prove that they care
About 10 days ago, word flew around town that Pittsburgh’s Land Bank committee was about to go rogue.
Ah yes, the Land Bank, you’re thinking. It’s like waiting for Godot. Excruciating, but pointless.
Probably — but action was detected! Concerned, well-informed citizens — like me! — were urged to show up and bear witness. Here’s the amazing part: quite a few did.
“Amazing” because, at this moment in history, many people seem too weary to care about much of anything and too jaded with representative democracy to think they’d make a difference.
It’s way too soon to tell whether they did, but even if you’re reading this from the quieter corners of a thriving suburb, this old city’s effort to recycle abandoned properties is a microcosm of modernity’s constant clashes — between the little guy and big government, volunteers and professionals, lofty words and real action.
The rumor that swept through this particular petri dish of democracy is that the Land Bank board was going to ignore the recommendations of its own committee and just take over the existing property reserve system, abolishing the community role that has provided most of the system’s positive momentum for the past 40 years.
I make that assertion from my perspective as a community volunteer stepping back with a decade’s experience trying to comprehend the existing morass. As city Controller Michael Lamb’s recent audit demonstrates, it is a challenging, confusing mess.
A very slow-moving train wreck. A soul-sucking, hope-crushing catastrophe.
(The controller didn’t use those exact phrases, but he’s more of a numbers guy. Thank goodness.)
Along with the population decline that hit Pittsburgh and other Rust Belt cities from the 1970s onward came widespread property abandonment. “Dead end” parcels now abound: the owner died, the heirs live in California, and unpaid taxes, water bills and (eventually) a demolition lien make the site unaffordable to profit-driven developers.
That is, until the community groups step in. They identify such properties to put into the treasurer’s sale and, from there, into the Urban Redevelopment Authority’s property reserve, along with a viable rehabilitation plan. In exchange for all this grunt work, unpaid taxes are forgiven and titles cleared to make way for community-driven redevelopment.
And that’s where the system grinds to a stop. My community group is still waiting for the city to clear titles for properties we nominated over five years ago. Glaciers move faster than Pittsburgh government.
Which is one reason why I remain skeptical of the new but years-long Land Bank effort. The old system is, in fact, a land bank. It just doesn’t work very well.
If the protracted process to replace an unwieldy system identifies changes to make it more, well, wieldy, then great; but I don’t anticipate much improvement without a lot more staffers hired to attack the mountains of paperwork.
And if the process was something else — say, a way to quietly replace the grassroots community input so the “professionals” can take over — well, aren’t the pros the ones responsible for the current mess?
Because they are, it does not bolster one’s faith in the unfolding process when a city councilwoman approvingly voices constituents’ complaints that 1. their community group does not represent them and 2. they should be able to compete for properties on equal footing with that group.
As for fair competition: Anyone can put a property in the treasurer’s sale, attend the sale and bid on any property. If no one bids, it proves the private market isn’t ready to do what community groups can — with a little help via tax forgiveness.
The property returns to the tax rolls sooner, with much less need for construction grants and homeowner subsidies. Taxpayers win.
Would citizens who feel inadequately represented by their local group get better responsiveness from an unelected city-wide board? Right now they can attend local meetings and shape a local plan.
This is democracy at its most basic. It beats every alternative on the planet, but the fight to preserve community-led communities isn’t over. Eternal vigilance and endless boring meetings — these are the price of liberty.