elvin k. wyly
I am a geographer with a passionate fascination with all things urban. "Ah, cities, yes," you say, "...but ... geography?" Perhaps your reaction is what Peter Gould had in mind when he described an all-too-common encounter at that bizarre middle-class ritual known as the Cocktail Party:
"Groping for something else to fill the silence, she got in her word first. 'And what do you do?' she said.
'Oh,' I said, grateful for the usual filler, 'I'm a geographer.' And even as I said it, I felt the safe ground turning into the familiar quagmire. She did not have to ask the next question, but she did anyway.
'A geographer?'
'Er ... yes, a geographer,' said with that quietly enthusiastic confidence that trips so easily from the tongues of doctors, engineers, airline pilots, truckers, sailors and tramps. After all, everyone knows what they do, and off the conversation goes on the awful 'flu epidemic, the new bridge, the latest jet, the long haul out of Kansas City, the storm in the Bay of Biscay or the doss houses of Saskatoon. But a geographer?
It has happened many times, and it seldom gets better. That awful feeling of desperate foolishness when you, a professional geographer, find yourself incapable of explaining simply and shortly to others what you really do. One could say, 'I look at the world from a spatial perspective...' or 'Well, actually, I'm a spatial analyst,' ... Or there is the concrete example approach. 'Well, at the moment we're calibrating an entropy-maximizing model for a journey-to-work study...' or possibly 'We're using a part stochastic, part deterministic, computer simulation model to examine the threshold values in a regional development programme,' all of which would be true up to a point. But the words, with their precise meaning for geographers, convey nothing to others, and end up sounding like some private and deliberately obfuscating jargon. Which would also be true. Up to a point. Often, in a desperate attempt to build a bridge with more familiar words, one ends up by saying, 'Well, actually, I teach geography.'
'Oh really?', and laughing. 'What's the capital of North Dakota?'"
[Peter Gould (1985). The Geographer at Work. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, pp. 3-4.]
I first read these lines in the Spring of 1985, not long after I migrated into Geography after a very personal and powerful epiphany. I was scribbling notes to capture the insights of the day's lecture in a first-year human geography class. Roger Downs was there in the midst of a brilliant performance, drawing a lovely map on the chalkboard while narrating the historical-geographical circumstances that explained why cities appeared in some places (and not others) in Central Pennsylvania. As the map came into view, the realization hit me hard. This ... is this guy's job, I thought with sudden clarity. His job is to do all this interesting stuff, this really cool shit, all day. He gets paid for it! Where do I sign up?
Consider that I was, at the time, living in Centre County, Pennsylvania, in a pre-Internet age in which digital activities required a trip to the computing center and waiting in line for output on that green-and-white tractor-feed printer paper. I could not announce my conversion like it is now possible to do on blogs and teacher-rating web sites. But I am encouraged that new generations are discovering the passions and possibilities of our field, thanks to the performance of talented educators like my colleague Matthew Evenden, who inspires students to submit things like this to ratemyprofessor.com: "Wow, I loved his lectures and I wasn't at all interested before. He's inspired me to change my major. SO smart and SO beautiful. I'll miss seeing his gorgeous self 3 times a week;( SO sad that he got married!" Professor Evenden's pedagogy is first-rate: not long ago, I was asked to offer an assessment of his teaching, and I was truly humbled. An excerpt: "Professor Evenden distills a potent spirit of historical geography, spiced with inherently and inescapably interesting insights on the political dilemmas of markets and state intervention, the assumptions of staples theory and industrial location theory, geopolitical facets of terms-of-trade, and strategic spatial configurations of supply chains in times of war. It all fits together well and flows smoothly. Students are captivated..."
There's no doubt that Professor Evenden's fine teaching is bringing people into geography who might otherwise become doctors, engineers, airline pilots, truckers, sailors, or tramps.
Geography is the study of the obvious -- of everyday landscapes that we take for granted, and of complex processes that are widely discussed but usually misunderstood; I learned this from my good friend Dan Hammel. Geography is also the study of why things that seem logical or reasonable in one place can be irrational or dangerous in another place; I learned this from Phil Gersmehl, a truly gifted and inspired scholar-teacher. Geography is the perpetual tension of society and space, produced as we make places and spaces even while our context and environment shape the things we do, think, and understand. And geography is a humble respect for the unique character of all places -- each position woven into economic, political, and social relations in a changing context of global flows and interdependencies.
I'm an urban geographer. I love cities, and I am deeply troubled by the leading-edge role of contemporary urbanization in reproducing and reinforcing harsh social inequalities. Market processes continue to drive spatial polarization and geographical injustice, by class, race-ethnicity, and gender. Public policy does little to cushion these inequalities, particularly in today's neoliberal and neoconservative obsession with liberating market forces and recasting communities and citizens as consumers and investors. My research analyzes the geographical dimensions of urban inequality, with a special emphasis on class, racial-ethnic, and gender discrimination in housing; neighborhood change, gentrification, and displacement; capital investment and disinvestment; homeownership policy; and the proliferation of dangerous, sophisticated tactics of predatory mortgage lending. I also have taken an interest in the inescapably urban facets of what seem to be the dominant transnational obsessions of our time, tourism and terrorism.
A few years ago, a student wrote on a course evaluation, "He's not bad, but he is quite Yankicentric." That about sums it up, and if you're interested in my thoughts on playing the role of The Ugly American, you might want to read this. Most of my research focuses on large cities in the United States, although thanks to the talented students here, I am gradually learning a bit about Canadian urbanism -- especially the curious constellation of forces that distinguish Vancouver. I still can't quite figure it out, but I do love it: city as a turbocharged transnational growth machine, nexus of accelerated entrepreneurialism, cosmopolitan Pacific Rim entrepot laid atop small-town provincial continental exile, capital of West Coast Capital hidden behind capital of West-Coast sea-to-sky aesthetic, laid-back enjoyment. Such a curious blend of potent political progressive commitments and passive-aggressive elite tradition.
This website has a variety of resources, divided into separate sections for research, teaching, and various data sources and suggestions. But if you're interested in just one or two samples, for my research I would suggest a story that begins with Citi, Sandy, and the Prince, or the terrible experience of Beatrice; for teaching, I'd offer my lecture on Race, Housing, and the Urban Underclass, or the New Spatial Politics of Social Data.
The Capital of North Dakota?
And, I must confess, I really don't care about the capital of North Dakota. I'm more concerned with North Dakota's relation with another capital of capital, where issues from torture to tax cuts are fought out in the belly of the beast of what David Harvey has called the New Imperialism. North Dakota was one of many places where the balance between survival and full-fledged violent hegemony, what Chomsky has diagnosed as America the failed state, seemed at risk of slouching towards catastrophe in the Fall of 2006. But let's hear it for Bismarck, and so many other precincts across North Dakota, keeping Kent Conrad in the mix and unleashing a cascade of changes in Committee Chairs, with the all-powerful investigation and subpoena power to restore checks and balances. In this sense, the reallocation of seats in the midterm elections stitched the capital (and the rest) of North Dakota into a still-insecure Homeland urban system centered on the federalist capital in an election that surprised many seasoned political observers: the old saw that all politics is local was subverted by a midterm that did seem to be truly nationalized, culminating in remarkable surprises in Senate races in Ohio, Virginia, Missouri, and Montana.
And in any event, equating geography with the memorization of such "factual" trivia as state capitals is worse than boring. It can be quite dangerous, as it distracts us from the new geographies that are constantly under construction and contestation, from the massive real-estate speculation in Harlem and SoBro to the violence of the Israel-Lebanon borderlands to the death-ridden towns and cities across central Iraq, from the resurgence of gentrification in Chicago's South Side to Vancouver's Downtown Eastside. Geographies are always in the processing of becoming, of being made, interpreted, understood, and experienced -- for good or ill. Geography is no more about the memorization of state capitals than history is the memorization of dates. Except, that, is, in that bastion of Republican commitment to Enlightmentment principles, the Great State of Florida. Not long ago, then-Governor Jeb Bush signed into law an education bill declaring, among other things, that "American history shall be viewed as factual, not constructed," and this purported factuality will henceforth be "knowable, teachable, and testable." Among the specific "facts" to be imparted to schoolchildren are "the nature and importance of free enterprise to the United States economy," while elsewhere the law explicitly prohibits interpretation. As the journalism professor Robert Jensen points out,
"...it's a fact that Europeans began coming in significant numbers to North America in the seventeenth century. Were they peaceful settlers or aggressive invaders? ... It's also a fact that once those Europeans came, the indigenous people died in large numbers. Was that an act of genocide? ... In contemporary history, has U.S. intervention in the Middle East been aimed at supporting democracy or controlling the region's crucial energy resources? Would anyone in a free society want students to be taught that there is only one way to construct an answer to that question?
...the law represents a yearning one can find across the United States. Americans look out at a wider world in which more and more people reject the idea of the United States as always right, always better, always moral. As the gap between how Americans see themselves and how the world sees us grows, the instinct for many is to eliminate intellectual challenges at home: 'We can't control what the rest of the world thinks, but we can make sure our kids aren't exposed to such nonsense.'"
[Robert Jensen (2006). "Florida's Fear of History: New Law Undermines Critical Thinking." Common Dreams, July 17.]
So I'm glad to be teaching, learning, and doing geography on this side of the border. The world here is is still round. Even so, it's still important to rehearse those sound-byte responses to explain what geographers do. As Graeme Wynn narrates the encounter:
"An exchange (partly imagined) at the Douglas (Peace Arch) Border crossing, 6 March 2008:
'Where you heading?'
To a conference, in Bellingham.
'What sort of a conference?'
An academic conference -- for geographers.
'You a geographer?'
Yes.
'Where is Damascus?'
[Duly answered correctly (after rejecting
the possibility, fleetingly entertained,
of responding, 'I'm not sure, I'm still looking
for the road there.')].
'Who's organizing this conference?'
The Western Division of the Canadian
Association of Geographers.
'Why are Canadian Geographers meeting in the United States?'
Now that's a good question. How to explain..."
[Graeme Wynn (2008). "Geographers Go South." Geog@UBC 3(7), March,
p. 1. Vancouver: Department of Geography, University of British Columbia.]