opinion

Opinion: I-375 was a mistake. Here's what we can learn from it.

The recent announcement that I-375 will be converted to a surface boulevard provides a striking example of how we create the built environment that reflects our societal values. Elected leaders, city planners, and civic leaders make land use, transportation, and design decisions that attempt to accomplish the goals of their era. But the irreversibility of planning decisions means that even as goals and values change, much of the city’s form and structures endure into the present.

Sometimes this layering is beautiful and charming. We cherish our historic buildings and urban parks planned and built more than a century ago. Our star-shaped street layout, though sometimes confusing to visitors, makes for interesting blocks and impressive vistas down our boulevards. Planners in those days wanted to reference the grand cities of Europe, and they largely succeeded.

But sometimes the goals of the past are uglier, and more obviously in conflict with the values we try to by live today. Those goals, too, get enshrined in concrete, physical reminders of an uncomfortable past.

Urban freeway building in the 1950s and 1960s successfully accomplished the goals and reflected the values of planners, elected and appointed officials and many civic leaders. At the time, central cities were increasingly out-competed by the suburbs for residents, jobs and retail. Planners thought that if suburban residents could get in and out of the city more easily and quickly, the downtown would be more competitive as a shopping and office destination. Urban cut-through freeways succeeded in increasing mobility in and out of cities. The expected benefit to central business districts typically did not follow, however — for suburban visitors and workers, coming into the city became like a surgical strike, involving little interaction with the city beyond a specific destination.

Detroit's Black Bottom neighborhood: See it then and now

Rochelle Riley: Book on black Detroit gives readers missing narrative of the city's history

Marsha Music on Detroit in 1967: A bristling tension, a revolt and the death of a dream

Meeting Mrs. Recy Taylor: On being white and writing black history

Another goal of planners and city leaders at the time was slum clearance. To them, a slum often included any area of older buildings not lived in by wealthy people, and any area where black residents lived, regardless of its economic or social value to its residents and patrons. Using urban freeway building as a reason for demolishing black neighborhoods was seen as accomplishing two goals at once — in other words, it was deliberate, not incidental.

This is precisely what happened with the construction of I-375 in Detroit. Black Bottom and Paradise Valley, two vibrant African-American neighborhoods, were simply scraped off the face of the earth to accommodate the new urban freeways, Lafayette Park, the Detroit Medical Center, and, decades later, Ford Field (to see what Black Bottom looked like, visit blackbottomstreetview.com).

Though thriving, these neighborhoods were overcrowded because black Detroiters were severely restricted as to where they could live. And it was true that the buildings in these neighborhoods were old and that the sewer and water systems needed to be replaced. But if those in charge had valued these neighborhoods — walkable, socioeconomically diverse, culturally rich — all of the issues with the physical environment could have been addressed, as they have been in historic neighborhoods in many other cities. And if public policy and private lending had not been racist, residents of those neighborhoods could have spread out to other areas of the city and suburbs, relieving the overcrowding. But at the time those neighborhoods were not valued, and the residents had little political power.

Today, planners and city enthusiasts value the very aspects of cities that they successfully wiped off the map in the 1950s and 1960s. We are drawn to cities because they are diverse, complex, challenging, walkable and human-scaled. The proposed conversion of I-375 to a surface boulevard with green space and bike lanes reflects current values and best planning practices. By the time I-375 was built in 1964, Detroit had already seen its first decade of population loss, and projected traffic volumes never materialized. Black Bottom was sacrificed for little benefit for the region as a whole, and at great cost to its residents and the city’s fabric. Given this evidence of a clear planning mistake, and knowing that values change over time, how can we reduce such mistakes in the future?

Here is where focusing on the planning process, rather than on a specific outcome, can help us make better decisions. Today we value public participation, inclusiveness and transparency in public planning processes — and it’s important to note that in many cases planners were forced to understand the value of these by activists protesting unwanted changes to their neighborhoods that would have been imposed on them. The meetings MDOT has held to collect public feedback on the proposals are a great example of such inclusiveness. Converting a freeway to a surface street will not bring back the built environment that was lost, nor will it compensate those who were harmed by the loss of their homes, businesses and neighborhood social networks. But ensuring that current and future planning processes are inclusive, respectful and transparent will help us plan and implement a built environment that reflects those enduring values, and results in a livable, equitable, thriving city for everyone to enjoy.

Carolyn G. Loh is an associate professor of urban studies and planning at Wayne State University.

