Bruce Norris and Gary Becker: Reshuffling the Race Cards

This past weekend, I was in Connecticut for my dear friend Michelle’s wedding. Having arrived a day early, we elected to see Clybourne Park (now playing at the lovely and intimate Long Wharf Theatre), which I had not yet seen – for those who don’t follow theatre, Clybourne Park won the 2011 Pulitzer, a 2012 Tony Award, and is often cited as having revived an interest in race-based (rather than class-based) gentrification in the theatrical context (class-based gentrification having been the focus of much mediocre theatre written by people who’ve spent far too much of the past few years learning to use camping equipment near St. Paul’s and overusing the #occupy and #firstworldproblems hashtags).

The play is wonderful and has much to recommend it. To describe, rather than spoil, the plot, a home in the fictional Clybourne Park neighbourhood (having lived in Chicago, I assumed the neighbourhood being described would, in reality, lie on the near West or near South Side) is owned by one of many white families in a largely homogeneous somewhat stereotypical white 1950’s enclave. The first act centers on pressure on the family not to sell to a black family, with a neighbour voicing concern that it will tear apart the whole neighbourhood once there is a black family in the neighbourhood. The second act, taking place fifty years later, shows the same house, now in a black neighbourhood, with black homeowners reluctant to sell to white buyers.

The differences between the first and second act are notable, important, and too-seldom-discussed in the reams of criticism and praise the play has received. Particularly notable is that the black buyers of the home in the 1950’s remain off-set, hidden from view. Meanwhile, the white buyers in the second act are on display, along with their faults, and aspirations, and sometimes-bumbling dialogue. The white buyers are used for critique and comic relief, while the invisible black buyers are used for a very different dramatic purpose.

Why do we, even in crafting theatre meant to highlight the lasting divide between whites and blacks in our urban centres (recent studies of residential patterns show that, despite some progress, Chicago remains the most racially-segregated city in America by a large margin – though Chicago is not more segregated by race than it was in 1955, it is more segregated by race than it was in 1975), fail to see the biases, problems, and stereotypes even these somewhat self-conscious portrayals involve? These questions of social policy, housing policy, and urban planning are inexorably intertwined with our times – from immigration to healthcare to education, race and class are inescapable themes in discussing key issues of national policy.

It occurred to me, while watching Clybourne Park, that this fifty-year timeline had seen little progress not only in the social study or anthropology (or even thespian portrayal) of race, but also in the economics of race. Fifty years ago, around the time the first act of Clybourne Park takes place, Gary Becker (whose class I had the privilege of taking while a masters student at the University of Chicago) wrote the initial notes for what would become one of the most important theories about race and discrimination and economics of the Twentieth Century.

Becker’s paper is complex, but his idea was simple. If people want to discriminate, they’ll need to accept worse terms. If I want to hire only whites, I’ll end up paying a premium. And others who are willing to hire blacks or Asians or others will be able to find workers willing to work for a lower wage. In essence, two markets would evolve: a market for discriminators (who would pay more for white workers, as the supply curve would include only whites) and a market for non-discriminators (who will pay the lower equilibrium wage, taking into account the supply of all workers able to do the task). Competition between discriminators and non-discriminators would resolve with the non-discriminators enjoying lower costs and driving the racists out of business.

That isn’t quite what happened.

But the couple looking to sell their home in the first act of Clybourne Park run up against a Beckeresque problem. Though the sale price is never discussed, it becomes clear in the dialogue that few want to buy the house (I won’t reveal why, as this is important to the plot). Due to a perceived defect with the house, these people exist in an already-narrowed market. And out of the small pool of people willing to buy the house, some are white and some are black. They’ll get an even worse price if they only choose among the white potential buyers. So they entertain all offers and find an offer – from a black family.

Seeing Clybourne Park or reading Gary Becker’s paper, though both Becker and Norris are able writers, will not change your life. However, thinking about how race shapes decisionmaking is an important swatch of gray between anthropology, economics, ethnography, government, and history in the quilt of knowledge. Perhaps the question is not whether we can build a society that is “post-race” or post-race-conflict, but rather whether we can shape decisionmaking to prioritise other factors over race.

One market worth examining is online dating and friendships. Several recent studies suggest that race has declined among the selection criteria among online dating customers (the match.com dataset is one of the largest contemporary social relationship datasets) and on social networks (this data tends to be weaker, as most social networks do not ask customers to self-identify by race, which is in itself interesting). While “some of my best online friends are black” is an even weaker, if modern, meme, the convergence of networks across racial boundaries suggests that Chicago’s ever-increasing racial compartmentalisation may be an unusual tragedy rather than a national theme.

Norris’s play’s national appeal, however, may suggest otherwise. Walking out of the theatre, I reconsidered my evaluation that Clybourne Park was meant to represent the South Shore neighbourhood or perhaps the Near West Side; the Clybourne Park neighbourhood may be large enough to encompass much of the Western world.