Abstract
Introduction: Documenting a moment of change
Early in my study, I revisited Gimel, my dad’s childhood neighbourhood, evoking memories of my grandma’s home on Jabotinsky Street. Despite her passing 35 years ago, I could almost smell her Sabih (an Iraqi-Jewish breakfast). I interviewed an old friend of my uncle’s, a lifelong Gimel resident. He expanded his 57 sqm apartment to 110 sqm with a yard and garage. Preferring the central, quiet, and sociable atmosphere, he declined several offers to sell. Though he doubts the neighbourhood will transform, change is inevitable. In a decade or two, Gimel will likely be transformed, and the fate of its longtime residents and their replacements remains uncertain.
In recent years, Israel has promoted a series of large-scale regeneration plans aimed at addressing the nation’s housing needs. These top-down initiatives, currently in various stages of implementation, are bound to have a profound impact on urban localities and their residents. Such plans may also generate a sense of ‘pestering displaceability’. The term displaceability encompasses not only the actual act of displacement from one’s living environment but also the potential threat of being pushed out. This paper explores the effects of top-down regeneration plans on residents and examines their perceptions of potential displacement from their neighbourhood.
Displacement is typically associated with negative connotations. However, for some residents, particularly homeowners, it may also hold expectations of improved living conditions and enhanced financial capacities. Regardless of whether residents approach the process with hope or fear, it invariably raises concerns regarding the prolonged period of uncertainty and ambiguity surrounding the outcome. The focus of this paper is on a neighbourhood in its pre-gentrification phase, characterized by regeneration plans primarily existing in blueprints, with limited physical changes and minimal social transformations. This phase represents a period of great uncertainty regarding the overall and individual results of the process, including its speed, costs, and benefits.
The context for this study is the Gimel (‘C’) neighbourhood in the city of Beersheba, Israel. The Gimel neighbourhood has experienced a prolonged period of change resulting from disinvestment, culminating in the current regeneration plan, which, at the time of fieldwork (2018-2019), remained largely unknown or understood by most residents. This case study provides an invaluable opportunity to examine a neighbourhood that is on the verge of gentrification, where gentrification is just one possible scenario. The presence of precarity, uncertainty, and the coexistence of regeneration and decline may lead to various forms of displacement, while alternative approaches to replacement may not immediately achieve the desired transformation. The paper aims to document this pivotal moment of change, employing qualitative research methods—interviews and participant observation. By focusing on diverse groups of residents and their perspectives on the regeneration process, this study investigates their levels of trust in its actualization, the emotions it evokes, their hopes, expectations, and concerns.
The central argument put forth in this paper is that the concept of displaceability engenders a sense of pestering nuisance—a mental state of urban uncertainty—that an increasing number of individuals across various global contexts must navigate. Displaceability, I argue, is not merely a psychological condition of long-term anxiety. It is the new urban condition, a political condition manifested in a new and deteriorated form of urban citizenship. By examining the residents’ experiences within the Gimel neighbourhood, this research contributes to our understanding of the psychological and social ramifications of top-down regeneration plans, shedding light on the conditions faced by individuals grappling with the uncertainty surrounding their living environment. Israeli cities offer intriguing case studies for exploring the issue of displaceability resulting from urban regeneration. What sets them apart is the notable prevalence of homeownership, even within the degenerated housing blocks designated for regeneration. This aspect distinguishes the Israeli scenario from the extensive body of literature on urban regeneration that primarily focuses on Global North cities, where social housing plays a more prominent role.
However, it is important to note that homeownership does not provide absolute protection against the effects of regeneration. Individuals who are uninterested in the process can still face displacement, and they may also experience physical or cultural upheaval within their neighbourhoods during or after regeneration. Most significantly, homeownership cannot shield them from displaceability—the inherent potential of being displaced, the unsettling presence of imminent change, and the necessity to navigate through prolonged periods of uncertainty.
The subsequent sections will delve into an examination of the existing literature concerning regeneration, gentrification, and displacement. This will be followed by an exploration of the concept of displaceability. Subsequently, an analysis of the literature pertaining to urban regeneration in Israel will be presented. A concise overview of the methodology employed will be provided, after which the findings will be presented, commencing with an examination of the local context and the regeneration plan for Gimel. The discussion will culminate with an examination of an interrupted neighbourhood, as perceived through the lens of its longstanding residents. Lastly, concluding remarks will be offered to summarize the key points discussed.
Regeneration, displacement, and displaceability
Urban regeneration initiatives play a significant role in reshaping cities and neighbourhoods worldwide, involving physical, social, and economic transformations. It typically entails the transformation of urban areas to cater to wealthier residents, involving physical changes like demolishing and rebuilding structures and symbolic alterations through renaming and reimagining. Urban regeneration may have unfair social consequences for local residents, including homeowners, altering their social fabric (August and Walks, 2016), and resulting in gentrification and displacement of vulnerable populations (Gray and Kallin, 2023).
As Yiftachel argues, urban displacement can be propelled by forces other than capital accumulation or class struggle, prevalent in North America and Western Europe. It can be driven by infrastructure development, security concerns, legal formalism, national identity, religious or gender domination, or environmental pressures, that at times even work against the interests of capital (Yiftachel, 2020: 156). The role of the state, he continues, remains central even in putatively neoliberal cities (2020: 158). Even homeownership cannot always shield from displacement. The issue of homeowner displacement in regeneration processes is crucial. Unlike public housing Europe and North America, where displacement research on renters typically takes place, Israel presents a different context, being a ‘culture of property’, similar to Hong Kong (Ley and Teo, 2014), Singapore (Haila, 2017), post-Communist countries such as Romania (Soaita, 2015), or Australia (Morris, 2023). Whereas homeowner displacement is more expected in cases of war or climate events (e.g. Clingen and Bavoso, 2017 on post civil-war and tsunami Sri Lanka), it can also be the case when constructing mega infrastructure (e.g. Weinstein and Ren, 2009 on Shanghai and Mumbai; Herath et al., 2023 on Colombo and Cochin), following tourism pressures (Neef, 2019), or due to urban regeneration (Geva and Rosen, 2021).
The concept of displaceability captures the notion that residents face not only the actual displacement from their living environment but also the constant potential for displacement (Ansenberg, 2024; Tzfadia and Yiftachel, 2022; Yiftachel, 2020; Zaban, 2022). Yiftachel (2020) introduces the concept of displaceability as a framework to understand the underlying conditions that make individuals and communities vulnerable to displacement in urban contexts. Displaceability refers to the potential for future displacement rather than the actual occurrence, encompassing various social, economic, and political factors (also see Ansenberg, 2024). The concept reflects an erosion of residents’ right to the city through the imposition of a new demographic, administrative, social, or economic order on their familiar environment, and not just the potential of physical displacement.
This state of displaceability engenders uncertainty and anxiety among residents regarding the future of their homes and communities (Levine and Aharon Gutman, 2022b), or in Wallace’s (2015, 2017) terminology, it means living in ‘limbo-land’. The harm of gentrification, as Wallace (2015: 519) argues, is not only tangible evictions and displacements, but also the absences, limbos, and opportunities occurring within these interruptions. Based on his study on regeneration in Salford, UK, Wallace argues that regeneration places households and communities into limbo, ensuring they have no idea when or whether they will have to move (2017: 8).
Housing precarity becomes a prevailing concern, with residents facing the possibility of losing their homes or being priced out of the area, thus losing their sense of security, social networks, and access to resources (Watt, 2022). Watt (2023) highlights how estate regeneration can be perceived and experienced as a form of psychosocial degeneration, causing anxiety, stress, and a sense of insecurity among affected residents. The psychological and emotional impacts of displaceability are significant, with residents facing the disruption of social networks, loss of belonging, and a sense of uprootedness, which can potentially be felt even before the actual physical moment of ‘un-homing’ (Lees and Hubbard, 2020). Nixon offers the term ‘slow violence’—‘violence that occurs gradually and out of sight… an attritional violence that is typically not viewed as violence at all’ (2011: 2). Processes of neighbourhood regeneration, gentrification and displacement can be seen as a form of ‘slow violence’ (see Elliott-Cooper et al., 2020), with long-term and hard to measure repercussions on people’s lives. As Tzfadia and Yiftachel (2022) argue, displacement, or the mere potential of it, can be slow and gradual and need not involve direct violence.
The psychological effects of neighbourhood change can occur even with no physical displacement when residents choose to remain in place. Cocola-Gant (2023), in the context of touristification in Barcelona, introduced the concept of ‘place-based displacement’ to highlight that, for residents, it implies a form of dispossession which is both material and emotional. He argues that place-based displacement is the alteration of a familiar environment that essentially displaces people from places to which they are emotionally and materially attached, in turn causing discontent for the area they reside.
In this paper, I aim to elaborate on the concept of displaceability and develop the notion of ‘pestering displaceability’; the uncertainty entering a person or family’s life once the prospects of regeneration are put forward. Yet this pestering nuisance, encapsulated in the potential of being displaced, is not merely a mental condition—a state of mind affecting people’s mental health. It is the new urban condition, a political condition manifested in a new and deteriorated form of urban citizenship. In this form of urban citizenship, people’s rights to a home, regardless of tenure and ownership, are compromised. While Beersheba is only a small ‘ordinary city’ (Robinson, 2006) in Southern Israel, the condition I discuss here is much broader. It is applicable to many places, urban or rural, in the Global North, South, East or West.
This new urban condition is driven by the convergence of various factors. Firstly, it is shaped by the logic of a global capitalist and neoliberal regime, where housing is viewed as a commodity rather than a fundamental human right (Madden and Marcuse, 2016). It means that decisionmakers and residents alike accept the idea that profit-making can be a good alternative for homemaking. It is widely accepted that addressing housing shortages, prices, and quality should involve private-public partnerships that prioritize profitability (see Alster, 2023). While the state still plays a central role in policymaking and planning, it increasingly delegates responsibilities to the market, relieving itself of some previous obligations. Secondly, as exemplified by the case of Israel and the Beersheba study, a state can be both highly neoliberal and centralized, retaining control over land resources, planning processes, and decision-making at the central government level. This leaves limited room for local governments, particularly weaker ones, to act on behalf of their constituents or engage the public in decision-making. In such cases, the government can prioritize policies that align with their overall agenda or benefit specific communities, even if it disadvantages others.
The role of elite capture is a crucial third factor contributing to the new urban condition of displaceability. Elite capture, as described by Lauermann and Mallak (2023), involves powerful actors manipulating institutions to redirect resources in their favour. This process often occurs in legal grey areas, where rules are bent but not entirely broken. It means that government agendas and policies can be shaped to benefit those in power and their supporters, rather than the broader population or weaker segments of society. Elites, the authors argue, are those who possess high levels of economic, social, and/or cultural capital, but definitions of ‘eliteness’ are necessarily specific to local economic, political, and cultural contexts. Lauermann and Mallak identify four key practices through which elites capture space. Firstly, they benefit from more favourable value capture mechanisms, such as tax benefits that disproportionately favour elite actors or leveraging their status to expedite their real estate projects. Secondly, preventing others from accessing resources or opportunities available in a place, blocking locally unwanted land uses. Thirdly, bending institutional norms, for example, by exploiting loopholes, lobbying for exemptions, and leveraging technical ambiguity in the building code. And fourthly, influencing everyday planning practices and undermining the collaborative goals of participation by affecting how policies are interpreted, whose knowledge is incorporated, and which voices get heard at meetings.
The concept of elite capture aligns with Tzfadia and Yiftachel’s (2022: 151-2) argument regarding the hierarchy of power. They contend that urban existence is perpetuated by a hierarchy of rights, an identity-based logic that influences the flow of capital, and the daily separation between social groups. Neglecting certain areas in the city and denying services to their residents can be viewed as a form of softer violence, reflecting preferences within the hierarchy. Tzfadia and Yiftachel emphasize that the reality of displaceability is more nuanced than a simple division between marginalized and privileged communities. Even individuals belonging to preferred or privileged communities can face the threat of displacement and eviction, particularly when the middle class struggles to afford rising living costs and worsening working conditions. Displaceability, they argue, is an ongoing reality for many urban residents and an inseparable part of contemporary urban existence. I therefore refer to displaceability in two overlapping senses: in the sense of a persistent ongoing condition, unlike displacement which refers to a particular event; and in the sense of both a potential and actual displacement from the right to the city. This links closely with my argument that displaceability can take place regardless of housing tenure or ownership and can revolve around a decision to regenerate in order to fulfil state goals (adding housing units, attracting stronger populations).
Regeneration is supposedly benefitting homeowners (Levine and Aharon Gutman, 2021), but it can nonetheless push them out and leave them less well-off than they had hoped, while the real beneficiaries are developers and gentrifiers. For homeowners, this ‘pushing out’ is of a more ‘voluntary’ nature, for instance if they prefer to sell and move to more suitable housing or elderly nursing homes instead of enduring the process, or after redevelopment—due to rising financial burdens such as building maintenance fees or higher municipal tax, or because of dissatisfaction with the outcomes in terms of the neighbours, or reduced open space, privacy, and sense of belonging (see Kainer-Persov, 2008). Such ‘pushing out’ can also be due to changes in their familiar community and urban citizenship, leading to an actual decision to leave or to place-based displacement (Cocola-Gant, 2023).
Regeneration and the right to the city framework are intertwined in examining the impact of urban transformation on urban citizenship. Urban citizenship encompasses individuals’ rights, participation, and sense of belonging within urban spaces. Scholars have used the right to the city framework to analyze the effects of urban transformation on urban citizenship. This framework acknowledges that urban citizenship encompasses more than just legal rights, including social, cultural, and political aspects (Bezmez, 2013). It highlights the significance of granting individuals the right to actively shape and participate in decisions that influence their lives and the urban environment.
Urban regeneration, aimed at revitalizing urban areas, can have adverse effects on residents’ right to the city and urban citizenship. As earlier mentioned, displaceability is a state of mind affecting people’s mental health precisely because of the continuous uncertainty it evokes. Scholars have elaborated on how individuals facing actual or potential displacement face housing precarity, uncertainty about their future living arrangements, and potential disruption to their social networks (Slater, 2009). This uncertainty often leads to increased stress, decreased well-being, and a loss of social capital (Elliott-Cooper et al., 2020; Morris, 2019; Wallace, 2015; Watt, 2023). It can be assumed, that the more powerless people feel with regards to the decision-making affecting their future, the worse they are mentally. An example to this is evident in the case of Colombo, Sri Lanka, where state-led regeneration programs lacked meaningful public consultation with affected stakeholders, including relevant officials, leading to discontent among resettled individuals who felt their voices were not heard. Residents expressed their desire to be significant and equal players, emphasizing they owned properties which the government has acquired for redevelopment, and not be treated as poor and hapless ‘beneficiaries’ of a development project. Residents also expressed the psychological and emotional breakdown they felt at the demolition of their dwelling (Herath et al., 2023: 84-85). Similarly, Darcy and Rogers (2014) examine public housing redevelopment in Sydney, revealing how economic interests can overshadow the needs of marginalized communities, leading to displacement and exclusion. Weinstein and Ren (2009) analyze Shanghai and Mumbai, illustrating how urban renewal projects infringe upon housing rights and limit the exercise of the right to the city. Zayim’s (2014) study on Istanbul’s urban redevelopment highlights how such projects exacerbate social inequalities, disrupt social networks, and undermine community participation. Prioritizing economic growth over social justice, urban regeneration harms residents’ right to the city and mental wellbeing and hinders their engagement in urban life. These studies emphasize the importance of process transparency, inclusivity, and participatory decision-making in urban planning to protect residents’ right to the city and promote equitable urban citizenship.
Regeneration in the Israeli context
Israel has experienced three generations of urban regeneration policies, evolving from slum clearance to comprehensive neighbourhood transformations and, more recently, market-driven approaches (Carmon, 1999). Levine and Aharon Gutman (2021) argue that the low interest rates which characterized Israel’s post-2008 crisis recovery strategies marked the beginning of a fourth generation in Israeli urban regeneration—economy-led regeneration which they term the ‘self-leverage’ phase.
One of the main forces driving regeneration in city centres, globally as well as in Israel, is the housing crisis and rising prices which made low-demand areas attractive for renewal. The goal of regeneration is to attract investment, stimulate economic development, and enhance the overall quality of life for residents. There are also divergent national rationales, such as the focus on increasing density in urban centres to supply the country’s growing housing needs and minimize the need to build on empty ‘green’ plots, or to enhance safety (against earthquakes or missile attacks) (Alster and Avni, 2021). And yet, urban regeneration mainly happens in high demand areas, where profitability rates are highest, rather than according to physical and social needs, which are often greater in the geographic periphery (Shamai and Hananel, 2021).
In Israel, the involvement of developers, homeowners, and new competencies is crucial in the regeneration process, with developers required to establish contractual agreements with apartment owners (Levine and Aharon Gutman, 2022b). A manifestation of the state’s encouragement and commitment to regeneration goals is found in the ‘Refusing Tenant Law’ of 2006. This legal manoeuvre determins that homeowners can refuse a development on ‘plausible grounds’ only—if the deal is not economically worthwhile, disregards their limitations, or if alternative housing has not been offered. Refusals on other grounds may carry lawsuits and compensation claims against those tenants when an 80% majority of homeowners supported development (lowered to 66% in 2021). This mechanism, and the limited success rates of plaintiffs against developers in court trials, prioritizes the public interest of regeneration, and the rights of those in favour of it, over the individual rights of the opponents (Bukshpan, 2020; Ziv, 2022). Studies have highlighted the paradoxical nature of homeowner displacement, when financial choices, as well as their changed situation over the long process, guide homeowners’ decisions to return, sell or let their replacement units. Findings show that while direct owner displacement is rare, only a minority of owners benefit from the use-value appreciation created by urban regeneration (Geva and Rosen, 2021). Renters are particularly affected by regeneration policies, facing displacement and higher rental prices (Brodkin and Mualam, 2022; Kainer-Persov, 2008, 2017). The regeneration process provides an opportunity to explore how residents perceive and navigate the uncertainties associated with displaceability.
Methodology
The study centres on examining the temporal aspects of urban transformation ‘from below’, drawing on qualitative ethnographic research conducted in Gimel. Although I have never personally resided in Beersheba, my father’s upbringing in Gimel provides a familial connection to the area. As the fifth son of Jewish-Iraqi parents who immigrated to Israel in 1951, my father was the first in his family to be born in Israel. He left Beersheba in the mid-1970s, prior to my birth, while some of his family stayed. Leveraging my family heritage and partial insider perspective proved valuable in establishing rapport with residents, who graciously shared their stories, while my outsider status enabled me to maintain a critical viewpoint.
Between December 2018 and April 2019, I conducted 45 interviews with a diverse range of individuals connected to Gimel, including municipal officials, planners, real estate specialists, local merchants, people working with neighbourhood communities, and current and former residents from various social groups. The interviews typically lasted 45–120 minutes, taking place in locations convenient for the interviewees. In most instances, I recorded the interviews for later transcription, although in some cases, I relied on notetaking. The interview questions encompassed topics such as the neighbourhood’s history, its present condition, the communities residing there, their awareness of neighbourhood plans, and their perspectives on its future.
The local setting: The Gimel neighbourhood in Beersheba
Scholars have emphasized the importance of studying ordinary cities rather than solely focusing on global cities (Robinson, 2006). This paper focuses on the Southern Israeli city of Beersheba, specifically examining the case-study neighbourhood of Gimel. While there is limited existing literature on Beersheba and ordinary Israeli cities (excluding Tel Aviv and Jerusalem), understanding Israeli planning, urbanization, and socio-spatial processes requires insights from these ‘ordinary’ perspectives.
The Ottoman empire has established modern Beersheba in 1900 to strengthen their rule of the Negev area. The city was settled by Bedouin tribes and gained further development during the British Mandate (1920-1948). Following Israel’s establishment in May 1948, Bedouins were deported or departed from the city in October 1948, and it transformed into a Jewish-Israeli city, becoming a national project that necessitated resources and close oversight (Avni et al., 2016: 20). Other than the original Old City all other parts of the city were built post-1948.
The Gimel neighbourhood, established in the 1950s, became strategically located near amenities such as railway stations, a university, and a hospital. Built to accommodate Jewish immigrants, mainly from Arab countries and Europe, it has experienced changes in its population composition over time.
The neighbourhood is home to approximately 11,300 residents and consists of 5000 housing units. Despite a steady increase in housing units and households since the 1970s, the overall population is declining, indicating an ageing population, a rise in single or shared student households, and fewer families (Municipality of Beersheba, 1979; Stern, 2004). Gimel is considered one of the most deprived areas in the city, ranked 2/10 and 3/10 on Israel’s socio-economic ladder (Israel Central Bureau of Statistics, 2019). Gimel was initially characterized by small housing units accommodating large families and owned or leased by social housing tenants. Despite challenging living conditions during the 1950s–1970s, the neighbourhood fostered solidarity among its residents (Z., former resident, born 1950, 20.3.19; A., local activist, 24.12.18). The neighbourhood enjoyed a respectable reputation until the 1970s, including some middle-class families (Y., former resident, born 1950, 19.12.18; T., born 1935, 28.1.19). Some buildings were already badly deteriorating within a few decades of their construction (Bar, 1978), yet they remain inhabited today.
Since the 1970s, Gimel has gradually declined—physically and socially, and witnessed a population turnover in which more capable populations left and weaker populations entered and stayed. In the 1990s, following mass immigration from the Former Soviet Union (FSU), new neighbourhoods have been built everywhere, including in Beersheba. Capable Gimel residents moved to these neighbourhoods, while FSU migrants moved in. In the early 2000s, social decline escalated with the settlement of many protected Palestinian collaborator families by the Ministry of Defence. 1 Simultaneously, two large absorption centres for Ethiopian immigrants were established in Gimel, and numerous special needs hostels and institutions occupied properties and public buildings that formerly served the neighbourhood. The remaining residents were predominantly older and poorer, either unwilling or unable to relocate.
Although Gimel’s population experienced socio-economic stagnation, housing prices continued to rise due to high demand for affordable small flats from transient populations such as students and interns. Real estate developers capitalized on this demand by splitting flats into smaller units and renting them to students. High-rise redevelopment projects were also pursued, resulting in steadily rising housing prices in Gimel since the early 2010s. However, prices in Gimel remain lower than the city and national averages, and a significant portion of housing stock is rented—reaching 66% in 2008 (and 88% in the areas closest to the university; Israel Central Bureau of Statistics, 2008). However, updated data from the university student association indicates that only 16% of Gimel’s population are students.
The diverse communities residing in Gimel include multiple generations of working-class Mizrahim, Georgian Jewish migrants, Ethiopian migrants, FSU migrants, Muslim Palestinian collaborator families, and a significant student population. Additionally, a group of pioneer or marginal gentrifiers (Rose, 1984, 1996) moved to Gimel with the intention of creating an ideological community for young couples and families. They mounted to 45 families at the time the research was conducted. These gentrifiers maintain close ties with the municipality, symbolizing the desired social change.
The regeneration plan for Gimel as a reflection of the new urban condition
The paper’s theoretical discussion featured three main factors characterizing the new urban condition: neoliberal logics, the role of the (centralized) state, and elite capture, factors clearly demonstrated in the Gimel plan.
Israel is a centralized state with centralized planning apparatus and Beersheba’s top-down planning is within this context. In 2011, the Israel Planning Administration (IPA) collaborated closely with the municipality to introduce a new masterplan for Beersheba, replacing the outdated 1969 plan. The key objective was to revitalize the urban core rather than perpetuate urban sprawl. Urban regeneration goes beyond local interests, as IPA aims to plan 2.6 million housing units nationwide by 2040, with 900,000 units through urban regeneration. To advance this objective, the Urban Regeneration Authority (URA), operating under the Ministry of Housing, was established to initiate and finance large-scale regeneration projects. Beersheba sought funding to implement the Gimel plan.
The Gimel Regeneration Plan, initiated in 2014, seeks to restore the neighbourhood’s ‘old splendour’ and form a viable community. It focuses on improving public spaces, commercial areas, and housing diversity while combating property speculation. The architect stated that if the plan succeeds, ‘gentrification is a byproduct’ (Interview, 28.2.19; on policymakers’ view of gentrification as a solution rather than a problem, see Doucet et al., 2011; Lees and Ley, 2008). She emphasized that displacement can be minimized by providing sufficient welfare support and that the desired change should not rely solely on students and investor-owners but involve families as well. The Municipal Regeneration Agency (MRA), established in 2017, plays a mediating role between the municipality, developers, and residents to promote urban regeneration in Beersheba’s old quarters.
Current urban renewal mechanisms in Israel rely on private investment, incentivizing developers through tax breaks and building rights (Alster and Avni, 2021; Carmon, 1999; Geva and Rosen, 2018; Rosen, 2016). However, economically viable redevelopment in Gimel’s most deprived areas requires replacing each existing housing unit with eight, which exceeds the area’s capacity. The revitalization of the Orot Centre, a prominent abandoned building which served as a local cinema between 1960 and 1989 is a key focus of the regeneration plan. The municipality issued a call for redevelopment proposals for the entire area, and the plan has been approved in January 2024. Although it will take some years to materialize, this plan will pave the way for subsequent phases of the project, many of which are already in the planning process. In the years that passed since my data collection, many small and large-scale development plans have been initiated, approved, or advanced, and the Gimel landscape is already facing some changes. Every plan encourages other plans and within several years, Gimel will look quite different. However, it is still unclear who will move into the new housing units and whether the aspired social change will materialize.
Architects, planners, and developers in Beersheba often reference Tel Aviv and Jerusalem as examples of the desired change they seek, viewing gentrification as an ideal solution with minimal costs and voluntary relocation of longstanding residents (city planner, 14.1.19). However, the literature on displacement considers this ‘voluntary mobility’ as a form of displacement resulting from neighbourhood reinvestment (Grier and Grier, 1978). The literature often focuses on renters or social housing residents as vulnerable to displacement, perceiving homeowners as financially secure and politically influential (Forrest and Hirayama, 2015; Shlay, 2006). Israel, being a ‘culture of property’, challenges this perspective as most residents in regeneration-designated areas are owner-occupiers or investor-owners who profit from redevelopment (Geva and Rosen, 2021). While Israeli literature on urban regeneration highlights the benefits for residents (Alster, 2023; Geva and Rosen, 2018; Levine and Aharon Gutman, 2022a), it is also evident that renters (the counterpart to investor-owners) are displaced and that most elderly residents will either move to nursing homes or pass away during the lengthy process. Some owners are coerced into signing regeneration contracts against their will, while others are tempted to sell and relocate before or during the process, resulting in ‘anticipatory displacement’ (Marcuse et al., 1989: 1357). After redevelopment, the new housing units become affordable only for higher-income individuals, leading to ‘exclusionary displacement’ (Marcuse, 1985; Slater, 2009).
Neighbourhood, interrupted: Dealing with housing uncertainty
Close connections exist between the mental aspects of displaceability as a pestering nuisance evoking uncertainty, anxiety, and mixed responses, and the right to the city. My analysis of the responses to the Gimel regeneration plan reflects this, starting with the pestering nuisance of displaceability and the hopeful, fearful or sceptic feelings it provokes, and then discussing the erosion of residents’ right to the city by imposing change on their familiar environment.
Displaceability as pestering nuisance: Uncertainty, anxiety, and mixed responses
The longstanding residents of Gimel had a deep attachment to their neighbourhood, appreciating its familiarity, community bonds, and central location. However, external perspectives painted a bleaker picture, suggesting that those with means had already left, leaving behind individuals who remained out of habit rather than genuine choice (Interview with real estate agents, 27.2.19). The neighbourhood had experienced social deterioration since the 1970s, and as owner-occupiers gradually departed, the physical condition of the area worsened.
The potential for regeneration loomed over the residents, with some already receiving offers from developers and others anticipating similar proposals. The prevailing sense of precarity and uncertainty surrounding the regeneration prospects seeped into the fabric of everyday decision-making. One interviewee shared his hesitancy, stating, ‘I had plans to refurbish the kitchen, but the developer advised me against investing, and hinted at the possibility of working something out in the future. Hence, I’m holding off for now’ (B., born 1965, 27.3.19; also see Kainer-Persov, 2008). This pervasive uncertainty resulted in disinvestment in both private and public spaces, exacerbating the neighbourhood’s decline. A Municipal Regeneration Agency employee provided an overview (27.3.19): ‘Residents call and ask how’s the raze and rebuild progressing, saying “I want to refurbish my kitchen, and I’m holding off”. It starts with the deterioration of shared spaces. Once the cloud of raze and rebuild hovers above, people already care less, and that’s problematic because it takes time’.
The fear of being the last to consent to regeneration also weighed heavily on residents, as they could face legal repercussions due to the ‘Refusing Tenant Law’. There was also a prevailing fear that signing on later might result in less favourable terms: ‘If I don’t agree to sell and the other three will, I will be the last one remaining and might be left barefoot’ (B., born 1965, 27.3.19). The lack of information about the timing, duration, temporary relocation plans, quality of the result, new neighbours, and increased maintenance costs added to the fear of the unknown.
The protracted nature of regeneration projects in Israel, spanning 10-15 years, further validated residents’ concerns. Disruption of neighbourly relations, privacy, and increased expenses and conflicts among neighbours were common outcomes of regeneration. Alarmingly, in the initial completed regeneration project in Israel, only 50% of owner-occupiers returned to the redeveloped building, while all renters were forcibly displaced (Kainer-Persov, 2008, 2017).
Uncertainty and fear of the unknown, came up in several interviews. Addressing longstanding residents’ anxiety, the Municipal Regeneration Agency employee explained (27.3.19): Most residents in this area are elderly or non-Hebrew speakers or have a lesser understanding of the program. They fear that a developer will evict them from their homes. They feel they have no choice and must sign deals with developers. Some developers pressure them greatly and threaten them, which instils anxiety and fear.
This was further elaborated by two young volunteers working in Gimel (Interview, 31.3.19). One of them mentioned: ‘The elderly women are afraid. They don’t want to be vacated for raze and rebuild, but the regular families don’t mind’. Her friend helped her distinguish between younger families, who might see regeneration as an opportunity, to the elderly women they work with: ‘It’s not easy to leave the home they’ve invested in for years. They have the people they know and the proximity to places, so they don’t want to leave’.
An interview with a woman in her 60s (3.1.19) validated this statement, when she said she just wants to be left alone and has no interest in any raze and rebuild. She explained that they had started with 57 square meters and with time more than doubled their flat’s size with a building addition. They also bought the flat across from them to rent out. She said she will refuse new development because ‘I have it good, I don’t like changes, and I have good longstanding neighbours’. Another interviewee, interested in regeneration, also expressed her concern about the neighbour issue, saying: ‘It depends on the number of tenants; a building with 40-50 apartments is an issue because living with this many people … it’s a bit scary’ (M., resident in her 60s, 17.2.19).
The fear of the unknown was confirmed by a developer working in Gimel, who spoke of additional concerning issues for the residents (Interview, 10.2.19). One issue he mentioned was that ‘they will receive new apartments in the same project, but they will be a minority’. The aim of regeneration is to attract ‘stronger’, higher-income population, which will turn the developed building into a mixed-income community, where returning residents are a minority. This often leads to stigmatization of those residents and results in tension between the groups. It may cause low-income residents to feel pressured and uncomfortable in what used to be their home (Chaskin and Joseph, 2013).
Another constraint for longstanding residents that the developer mentioned (Interview, 10.2.19) is that building maintenance costs are bound to increase because high-rises costs are higher. The solution to it, in case returning residents cannot make payments, is institutional support. He acknowledges that some may decide to sell and move elsewhere and says: ‘It goes back to gentrification, but is the current alternative better? Keeping things as they are is not necessarily good for them, it’s just that they fear the process’. Indeed, there is much to fear.
Despite the general uncertainty, residents in Gimel had varied reactions to the prospects of regeneration, ranging from perceiving it as a blessing that could improve their quality of life or create economic opportunities to viewing it as a threat to their established way of life and ability to remain in their homes. For instance, after an interview with a couple in their 70s, the wife told me that she does not want to leave Gimel and move to another neighbourhood. Nowhere else will she find that connection with her neighbours, people with whom she has raised her children. She does not drive and likes living in a place where everything is within walking distance or a short bus ride. She mentioned that there were developers who roamed the neighbourhood and wanted to buy apartments. From her perspective, regeneration is a blessing. It improves the neighbourhood. If a developer came and offered raze and rebuild that will allow her to return to her home, she would agree. Selling and leaving is not something she is prepared to do (Interview, 11.2.19).
Conversations with longstanding residents highlighted the decline in the neighbourhood as their steadfast neighbours gradually departed, leaving behind a transient population. Despite offers to purchase their properties pre-regeneration, these residents felt that the funds were inadequate for securing alternative housing in the city. One disheartened longstanding resident lamented, ‘They offered me 900,000 NIS (243,400 USD), but without a mortgage, it’s impossible to buy anything worthwhile. If they were to offer 1.2 million (324,500 USD), I would gladly leave this place’ (A., born 1965, 21.1.19). Another resident (B., born 1965, 27.3.19) said someone chased him after a public meeting with a developer with a briefcase. ‘He looked at me, a short guy, excited about what the developer said and thought I was gullible. He opened the briefcase and said, “let’s count together, 900,000 shekels in dollars”. I told him to leave. I don’t want the money’. When asked why not, he added: ‘Those who think about taking the money and leaving are stupid. Why burden yourself with a mortgage again? Those who accept the money might end up homeless. I don’t want money’.
Growing demands in the neighbourhood since approximately 2010 had led to soaring square meter prices, a clear indication of the rampant speculation that transforms homes into real estate (Madden and Marcuse, 2016). This protracted process of displacement ultimately led to the gradual abandonment of the neighbourhood. The remaining residents found themselves trapped in an unsettling state of limbo, their lives suspended and their displacement impending even before any concrete plans materialized (Baeten et al., 2017; Elliott-Cooper et al., 2020).
While many longstanding residents may not have known the details of the regeneration plan, they sensed that change was coming, evoking mixed reactions of fear, hope, or disbelief. While some felt that this might be a way out for them, others thought that they could best leverage it into better living conditions within the neighbourhood. A resident in her 60s, one of two remaining owner occupiers in her entrance among many investor-owners, explained her interest in raze and rebuild: ‘I’ll gain a new apartment. The building is old and falling apart. I’d like a normal entrance, with an intercom and regular cleaning’ (Interview, 17.2.19). Others thought deals could be leveraged to moving to alternative housing in Gimel. As B., quoted above, explained (27.3.19): ‘I want a key in exchange for a key, in the neighbourhood. I’m not a pig. I just want the developer to give me an apartment without neighbours above me’. His words encapsulate great misunderstandings about the options available, expecting alternatives beyond the parameters of the regeneration plan.
Many longstanding residents I interviewed were not interested in either leaving the neighbourhood or signing a regeneration deal. The only reason they considered it was because offers were made to them stirring a sense of displaceability; that their residency in Gimel was no longer guaranteed. As one resident said: ‘They knocked on my door two or three times to ask if I’ll selling. I won’t sell even for a million and a half (410,170 USD). Where would I go to live now? Who knows what kind of neighbours I’ll end up with. If you’re happy here, why go somewhere else?’ (E., born 1950, 14.1.19).
Other residents were willing to sign deals thinking of their inheritance to their children or grandchildren. One former FSU migrant in her 70s said she was willing to sign a raze and rebuild deal ‘not for myself, I’ve gotten used to it, but maybe it will be for my grandchildren’ (Interview, 1.4.19). Some residents, however, remained wholly sceptical, dismissing the idea by saying, ‘Regeneration? We’ve heard that same promise twenty years ago. This plan has been around for ages, but all we’ve seen is empty talk’ (E., born 1950, 14.1.19). And yet, judging by the number of development plans that are being advanced in Gimel as of 2024, it appears the talk is serious this time.
A compromised right to the city
Tzfadia and Yiftachel (2022) argue that displaceability reflects an erosion of residents’ right to the city through the imposition of a new demographic, administrative, social, or economic order on their familiar environment. This imposition takes place in Gimel. The planners, municipality, Municipal Regeneration Agency (MRA), and developers all acknowledge that gentrification is a byproduct of the plan. As an MRA employee explained: ‘Ultimately, urban regeneration generates change and brings in new populations from different socio-economic backgrounds. It is inevitable. Even if we only focus on public spaces and renovate the houses, housing prices will increase’ (Interview, 27.3.19). Similarly, in a field excursion in Gimel (8.3.19) for a group of Israeli planners, the city planner explained that ‘urban regeneration is a long-distance race… some areas will accelerate faster, while others will take longer’. The MRA employee quoted above jumped in and said: ‘We understand we need to address demands and not just supplies. The MRA’s role here is to also upgrade the public space and to work extensively on education, culture, welfare, and everything that can enhance neighbourhood attractiveness’. When a participant asked if the municipality is hoping to achieve gentrification and population turnover, the city planner responded that ‘there will be different forms of gentrification. Some areas have greater potential because they have few residents, and it’s possible to buy the entire building. It’s a win-win situation. No one forces people out. If they want, they sell willingly’. But do they?
Residents in smaller buildings, which are highly attractive to developers, often feel pressured into regeneration even if they do not want it. They fear the process and doubt the potential benefits. The lack of information at the time created illusions about residents’ leverage in negotiations with developers over their property. As B., quoted above, said (27.3.19): ‘There is no reason in the world for me to leave here. You want this place? No problem, give me an apartment in exchange for mine’. He was hoping for alternative homes with no neighbours, which is unlikely to be fulfilled. The ‘Refusing Tenant Law’ further complicates matters, as residents may be compelled to sign regeneration agreements if their neighbours do so, and either take what developers offer or accept money and go elsewhere. The prevalence of investor-owners in many buildings exacerbates the situation for hesitant or unwilling owner-occupiers, leading to what can be seen as ‘elite capture’ of the regeneration process (Lauermann and Mallak, 2023). This dynamic reinforces the perception that the interests of longstanding residents are not prioritized by the municipality or planners.
These sentiments were echoed by a woman who left the neighbourhood but whose elderly mother still resides there: ‘They (the municipality, the planners) really don’t care about the residents. They are interested in how they can create a beautiful neighbourhood to attract new people. To have young couples come and change the population… Where will longstanding residents go? God knows’ (21.1.19). The developer interviewed (10.2.19) confirmed these concerns, when he expressed frustration with residents who resist change, highlighting a disconnect between their perspective and the desire for transformation: ‘It’s impossible to bring about change with people who do not want change. They want to stay as they are, it’s astonishing’. Can longstanding residents feel belonging to a neighbourhood that signals them that their thinking, aesthetics, cultural norms, and sociability are unwelcome, where they are not granted rights to shape the decisions that affect their lives (Bezmez, 2013), and where their economic interests and needs are not prioritized (Darcy and Rogers, 2014)?
The question arises of whether the new population that the planners hope to attract will indeed replace longstanding residents. It depends on various factors, including the transformation of public spaces, educational opportunities, sense of safety, neighbourhood reputation, and the actual supply of new housing. Some residents may find large-scale developments unattractive due to concerns about traffic congestion and living in cramped apartments with multiple neighbours. As a marginal gentrifier said: ‘There’s a gap between the municipality’s thinking about family needs and a family’s own thinking. Why should we buy in a building where over a hundred cars are trying to exit the same parking lot in the morning?’. Gray and Kallin (2023: 1035), studying failed regeneration projects in Edinburgh and Glasgow, argue that territorial stigmatization is often crucial to the creation of rent gaps, but it cannot provide a sufficient answer to the question of rent gap closure. The question of whether Gimel will be gentrified in 10-15 years from now is largely dependent on changing its stigma, and not only providing developers, as well as current homeowners, with convenient and profitable investment avenues. People should be willing and eager to live in the new housing units for the plan to deliver.
Conclusion
This paper delves into the notion of ‘pestering displaceability’ within Beersheba’s Gimel neighbourhood, spurred by top-down regeneration schemes. It argues that regeneration initiatives create a constant sense of uncertainty, comparable to the persistent presence of a bothersome fly that distracts and consumes residents’ attention. Displaceability refers to the constant sense of uncertainty and potential threat of displacement experienced by residents. While displacement is typically perceived negatively, some residents, notably homeowners, may regard regeneration as an opportunity for improved living conditions and financial prospects, even if they opt to relocate. However, regeneration also poses challenges, such as eroding community identity and the threat of involuntary displacement.
This research provides a bottom-up perspective during the pre-gentrification phase of a neighbourhood’s lifecycle, characterized by uncertainty regarding the process’s timing and outcomes. Gimel has witnessed substantial transformations since its inception, culminating in a top-down regeneration strategy, which, as of March 2024, has spawned a cascade of subsequent plans for specific buildings and larger areas outlined by the regeneration masterplan. While the surge in plans over the past 5 years, along with some noticeable physical alterations, indicates action on the plan, it remains premature to ascertain Gimel’s social fabric in 10-15 years. Nonetheless, data from 2018 to 2019 unmistakably captured a significant moment of change. The central proposition of this paper is that displaceability constitutes a burdensome nuisance—an urban condition of uncertainty experienced across various global contexts. It transcends being a long-term mental state; it epitomizes a novel and degraded form of urban citizenship characterized by uncertainty. Crucially, this condition impacts people of all tenure types, including homeowners.
Within Gimel’s context, there exists a hierarchy of displaceability that mirrors residents’ varying right to the city. Developers and investor-owners typically reap the greatest benefits, while renters lacking property ownership are often the first to be displaced. Even owner-occupiers are not immune to potential displacement. The neighbourhood’s residents are diverse in terms of education, income, ethnicity, nationality, age, family dynamics, and tenure. Despite hierarchical distinction, genuine privileged communities are absent. Even marginal gentrifiers, such as students or young families, grapple with living and housing costs in better neighbourhoods or cities. Nevertheless, their presence in the neighbourhood hinges on trends, and an exodus could potentially disrupt nascent communities.
Beersheba has track record of top-down and centralized planning. Even in Gimel, where municipal involvement in the planning process is evident, there is limited consideration for residents’ perspectives and character. Planners draw inspiration from elsewhere, hoping to attract specific populations to the neighbourhood. However, the envisaged dense development may not align with the needs of current or prospective residents. The lingering question revolved around who stands to benefit from the regeneration and whether the plan will ultimately achieve its objectives.
Gentrification is often synonymous with capital influx rather than a resurgence of people. Undoubtedly, capital and urban investment are imperative in Gimel. The October 7 attack on Israel and the ensuing war have underscored security threats, necessitating safety rooms, absent from pre-1980 buildings and a regeneration goal. However, these events have also slowed the real estate market due to expectations of an extended economic downturn. These factors jeopardize further investor capital, as well as private investment. Alternative approaches to gentrification should be contemplated if the desired population fails to materialize.
Footnotes
Acknowledgements
Declaration of conflicting interests
Funding
ORCID iD
