By the end of 2004, the U.S. government claimed that two-thirds of the top leaders of al-Qaeda from 2001 were in custody (including Ramzi bin al-Shibh, Khalid Sheikh Mohammed, Abu Zubaydah, Saif al Islam el Masry, and Abd al-Rahim al-Nashiri) or dead (including Mohammed Atef). Despite the capture or death of many senior al-Qaeda operatives, the U.S. government continues to warn that the organization is not yet defeated, and battles between U.S. forces and al-Qaeda-related groups continue.
In the meantime, autonomous regional branches of al-Qaeda continue to emerge around the world.
Since the 2003 invasion of Iraq, average yearly incidence of attacks world-wide have increased by 607 percent. 91 percent of foreign policy experts say the world is becoming more dangerous for Americans and the United States, according to a survey conducted by the Center for American Progress and Foreign Policy. 84 percent of those experts believe that the U.S. military is not winning the war on terror, and 92 percent believe that the war is further endangering U.S. security.
While I was unfortunately sick for our previous two class meetings, I was able to watch the first minutes of Fahrenheit 9-11. It seems to be more of Michael Moore’s traditional filmmaking, using every unethical and immoral weapon he has at his disposal to distort the truth behind the narrative of the film. While his films are entertaining and at times very humorous, they leave a signature bad taste in my mouth, as if I have just watched some sort of B rate horror film and I couldn’t properly follow the script. Knowing what I know from this class about the methods he employs has distracted me from hearing the true messages behind his films. In his frenzy to exploit the American public, Moore has vilified his own character, pulling the audience away from his view point, which might not be wrong, if we could only see it in clear, un-muddied English, not through the grainy focus of his camera lens. He might have some good points, if I could only respect him as a documentary filmmaker and as a human being. At first glance it seems he has quite simply taken a noble profession with a history of provoking change and covered it in controversy and criticism. But is there more to his results?
Though his methods are untrustworthy, they have perhaps instilled some change, maybe not in the broader issues that he confronts, maybe not even in the main issues he focuses on, but within an instance of urban decay that is most likely held very deep in Moore's heart. Perhaps there is still some good that can come from Michael Moore? A recent article in The Economist, a British weekly news magazine, sited Michael Moore’s film as a possible prompter of change in the community of Flint, Michigan, as Moore spends a good amount of time profiling Flint’s economic and social problems in his documentary, Bowling For Columbine. The community, which could possibly see an economic turnaround, seems to be improving, due mostly to the dedicated work of a few devoted citizens, but possibly in part due to the publicity gained by the city’s presence in Moore’s film. Hopefully, the city can breathe again.
The article is below.
Question: What is the history of Flint’s economic depression?
Back from the dead
Oct 25th 2007 | From The Economist print edition
CLEVELAND AND FLINT
Glimmers of hope in two of America's industrial cities
FLINT, Buffalo, Dayton, Saginaw—for years these names have read like tombstones in the graveyard of America's rustbelt. But something is changing in Flint, Michigan, the symbol of industrial gloom. Like other rustbelt cities, Flint's population rose on the back of manufacturing (Flint was the birthplace of General Motors). Then came the white exodus to the suburbs and deindustrialisation, with Flint's ruin made famous in a film by Michael Moore. Flint's population is now just more than half what it was in 1960. One-third of its residents are officially poor.
But there are glints of progress, and not just because GM is building a new factory. Construction workers are beginning to transform the downtown area. There is a heated contest for mayor: Dayne Walling, a Flint-born Rhodes scholar brimming with good ideas, is challenging Don Williamson, the incumbent, in November's election. Flint is trying to chart its own course. And it is not alone. A faint spirit of change is wafting through some of the rustbelt's grimmest streets.
Scholars at the Brookings Institution, a Washington, DC, think-tank, argue that America's old industrial cities can indeed rise again. Big cities such as New York and Chicago have experienced a rebirth, thanks in part to fine mayors and a surge of immigration and new business in the 1990s. Most rustbelt cities have had a more modest revival or none at all. But urban optimists insist that the renaissance can spread: cities are the natural centres of the new knowledge economy and will only grow more appealing to young people and ageing baby-boomers, who want amenities near their homes.
Still, there is much work to be done. Key to any revival are basic improvements: a city must be safe, its rubbish collected, its schools adequate. How to make a city viable in the long term is an unresolved question. But a few places are trying to provide answers.
An early task is to address the physical problems. Some 16m people live in America's old industrial cities; they will not stay if their downtowns look abandoned. In Flint a shrinking population and high foreclosure rates (not a new trend in this town) mean you can hardly go a block without seeing a decrepit house. Blighted buildings are like cancerous cells: they spread crime and lower nearby property values, gnawing away at Flint's shrunken tax base. Many cities share this problem. In Youngstown, Ohio, the mayor plans to tear down blighted areas so he can save threatened but still viable neighbourhoods.
A small band in Flint is following a less radical but still imaginative strategy. Dan Kildee, the county treasurer, founded a land bank in 2002 that acquires abandoned buildings through foreclosure, then readies them to be sold and returned to the tax rolls. The bank, which won Harvard's innovation award in September, claims to have increased property values by more than $112m so far.
Also in Flint are LISC, part of a national non-profit group that channels grants and loans toward community work, and Uptown Developments, which is using so-called “baklava financing”—layers of private investment, loans, grants, federal and state tax credits—to build residential lofts as well as retail and office space downtown. Together, these groups are trying to make Flint liveable, a city that might lure a start-up or retain its students after graduation. Mr Williamson has helped by repaving hundreds of miles of roads. Mr Walling, if elected, plans to harness this work under a broader plan for downtown, its surrounding neighbourhoods, three local colleges and medical centres.
The physical task is serious enough. Addressing the rustbelt's structural economic problems is a much thornier question. Cleveland is slowly experiencing the physical renaissance sought in Flint, with new museums, a university building designed by Frank Gehry, a plan to reclaim the lakefront and another to improve transport between downtown and a hub of universities and hospitals. But to tackle its larger economic woes, the city is tying its fate to the rest of north-east Ohio.
Making use of the hinterland
A more regional approach can benefit not only inner cities, but their surroundings as well. For decades cities and suburbs have competed for jobs, residents and state and federal aid to ill effect. To change this, the Fund for Economic Future, an alliance of foundations in north-east Ohio, worked with civic and business leaders from 16 counties to launch a regional scheme in March. The plan includes supporting companies that build on local strengths, such as Cleveland's universities and medical centres (the Cleveland Clinic is America's leading hospital for cardiac care), and improving workforce training for high-tech manufacturing, health care and other understaffed sectors.
The Fund is also exploring ways for the region's various governments (754 in all) to share revenue and rationalise services. Tax-sharing schemes have helped other struggling cities, including Dayton, Ohio and Rochester, New York. Cleveland and some surrounding towns have already agreed to split taxes from businesses that move within the area; in exchange, Cleveland is providing water services.
These schemes to revive Flint, Cleveland and cities like them are making progress, but it is slow and uneven. Improvements in Cleveland in the 1990s were then threatened by recession, and the subprime crisis has not helped. Jennifer Vey of Brookings argues that local efforts could be bolstered by state support, which has been meagre. She points to Pennsylvania as a state with a strong urban agenda—Pennsylvania has the advantage of a governor, Ed Rendell, who was mayor of Philadelphia.
Even the most avid urban optimist does not expect these cities, having declined for decades, to recover overnight. Flint's home prices dropped by a startling 21% so far this year. On a recent afternoon in Cleveland, a “Believe in Cleveland” banner was matched by a nearby beggar with a sign that just read “Hungry”. But there are hints of progress where there was none. William McMickens, a cab driver and son of a factory worker in Cleveland, pointed to construction along Euclid Avenue: “When this is done, the whole city is going to change.” In these cities, long left for dead, a hard hat is a sign of hope.
The Golden Rule
