Chicago's public housing has been called "the worst in the country." A forthcoming book by former IPR researchers documents this charge with a grim analysis of life in the "projects," of the initatives that failed, and the uncertain future facing its beleaguered residents.

Rampant gangs, flagrant drug trafficking, pervasive violence, and ruined roach-infested buildings are daily facts of life for Chicago's public housing families, nearly all of whom are poor, black, and headed by single mothers. But misguided federal and local housing policies, ineffective crime-fighting measures, and negligent management have compounded these nightmarish living conditions to create a "'hidden" housing debacle the public glimpses only in headlines.

Having failed to maintain both the physical buildings and the social order over the past four decades, the Chicago Housing Authority (CHA) decided in 1999 to tear down 25,000 public housing units, relocate some residents with Section 8 vouchers, rehab some units, and replace others with low-rise scattered site housing. The CHA hopes to attract working-class and high-income residents in a plan to regen-trify the areas and reduce the concentration of poverty.

Will the latest housing policies prove any more effective than previous initiatives? And where will the poorest residents find replacement housing? These are among the issues raised in The Hidden War: Crime and the Tragedy of Public Housing in Chicago (Rutgers University Press, 2000) by Susan Popkin, Lynn Olson, Victoria Gwiasda, Dennis Rosenbaum - all former IPR researchers - and Larry Buron.

The authors began their four-year study in 1994 to evaluate the impact of a series of crime prevention programs known as the Anti-Drug Initiative (ADI). They soon realized that the fate of the ADI was inextricably tied to the social problems endemic to Chicago's public housing. They analyze the failure of these programs through case studies of three of the city's most notorious housing projects, Rockwell Gardens, Henry Horner Homes, and Harold Ickes Homes.

• Managerial neglect. Not only were the high-rises poorly designed and constructed to begin with, but management consistently failed to maintain them, the authors contend. Residents lived with litter in their darkened hallways, graffiti, malfunctioning elevators, exposed light sockets, faulty wiring, and leaking pipes and faucets that took months, if ever, to be repaired. Even when funds were available for maintenance, they were often diverted to crime prevention, and later to renovation and new construction.

"The role of bad management cannot be underestimated," said Popkin, citing the three CHA executive directors during the study period alone. "There were new priorities, new programs, and ideas with each switch of leadership."

• Misguided housing policy. Federal policies in the 1970s and 1980s set the stage for the racial segregation of today's public housing, the authors argue. With no caps on rents, these policies drove out working-class families who might have provided some stability to the neighborhoods. And the discriminatory policies of the CHA assured that public housing projects were isolated from the better neighborhoods and commercial areas.

"The residents of Harold Ickes Homes were the unintended victims of CHA's changing priorities," the authors state. In 1994, this 800-unit project was considered "one of the safest CHA high-rises." Controlled by a single gang, it avoided the gang wars that terrorized other developments. Its resident leadership successfully lobbied for services, and its exteriors were relatively well-maintained. In 1992-94, the ADI seemed to be working. Two years later, this all changed dramatically when HUD took over management from the CHA, shifted its funds from crime-fighting to large-scale revitalization of the worst properties, and removed its security force.

Not surprisingly, conditions in Harold Ickes spiraled rapidly downhill, leading to "alarming increases in gang activity, drug-related and violent crime," and a rapidly escalating vacancy rate. By December1996, crime was as bad or worse than before the sweeps, the authors maintain. All remaining units are currently slated for demolition.

• Gangs and drug traffic. Entrenched gangs and their constant warfare contributed heavily to the failure of the ADI. In Rockwell Gardens, for example, which Popkin describes as an "urban guerilla war zone," three powerful gangs competed for turf. Resident reports of stabbings, shootings, and beatings were commonplace.
  
  
• Ineffective law enforcement. The CHA spent $40 million per year on its own security force, which was disbanded in 1999. It hired low-wage, untrained security guards and even engaged Nation of Islam personnel as guards, none of which proved effective. One measure that showed promise was "Operation Clean Sweep," a massive police presence that fanned through the projects and drove the gangs from buildings they targeted. But the gangs merely moved to un-swept buildings in other locations. The measure was declared unconstitutional in 1995 after a successful ACLU lawsuit.
  
  
• Inability to organize tenant patrols. The anti-drug initiative was premised in part on traditional community crime prevention measures, which proved unworkable in such a social climate. Residents feared retaliation from perpetrators if they reported crimes. They were equally reluctant to report their own or neighbors' relatives who were active in gangs. And wariness about their neighbors in general also discouraged residents from working together.

"Even the best-designed community crime prevention programs' efforts are unlikely to succeed in the violent chaotic context of CHA's high-rise developments where they are dealing with physical isolation, racial and economic segregation, and lack of social structure," the authors conclude.

Under current plans, Chicago faces a net loss of 15,000 public housing units. In a tight rental market with a core of "troubled" families who must find new housing, it is uncertain what will happen to them, Popkin said.