R.K. Upadhya
Over the past two decades, the housing market has emerged as a powerful means by which capitalism can exploit the working class. At our workplaces, capitalists profit from their ability to control our labor; and then we go home, where we are exploited by the landlords who profit from their control over housing. And if the answer to our oppression in the workplace is labor unions, the answer to our oppression in our homes is tenant unions.
From early 2022 to early 2024, I was involved with a tenant union campaign at a large apartment complex in north-west San Antonio, via the now-dormant Tenant Union San Antonio (TUSA). While the campaign failed in its overall goal – to organize the tenants of the complex into a self-sustaining, democratic, and militant union – the efforts nonetheless secured some improvements for tenants, and provided organizers with an important and fulfilling learning experience.
The apartment complex in question was Vista Del Rey Apartments (VDR), a massive 453-unit complex in Leon Valley, located near the intersection of 410 and TX-16/Bandera. The property was first built in 1979, and by testament of some long-time tenants, was a beautiful and well-run property. But in recent years, as the housing market heated up and real estate capital grew increasingly predatory, things started falling apart. Ownership was repeatedly swapped between increasingly greedy firms looking for fresh ways to cut costs and extract more rent. In April 2021, VDR was bought by Shippy Properties, a firm run by an Austin tech executive turned real estate speculator, which quickly turned out to be the worst landlord yet for VDR tenants..
By pure coincidence, a core TUSA member had just moved into VDR in late 2021, and quickly realized it would be an excellent place to start a tenant union campaign. So a handful of us got to work, and over the next two years helped instigate class conflict between the tenants of VDR and their corporate slumlord. Our overall vision was informed by the strategies and tactics developed by socialist-aligned autonomous tenant unions like Tenants and Neighborhood Councils (TANC) in the San Francisco Bay Area, Los Angeles Tenants Union (LATU), Stomp Out Slumlords (SOS) in Washington D.C., and Houston Tenants Union (HTU).
A quick run-down of what the campaign looked like: we door-knocked across the complex, inquired about conditions and experiences, invited interested tenants to meetings, and saw the formation of the Vista Del Rey Tenants Union (VDR-TU). More canvassing was done; petitions were passed around and protests and rallies were held; a kind of spontaneous rent strike emerged, with many tenants across the complex refusing to pay rent. The city of Leon Valley got involved in a lawsuit against Shippy Properties, demanding that they fix the numerous code violations across the property. Key tenant leaders were targeted for eviction, but we successfully fought back against most of the initial eviction attempts. Shippy made various concessions, even as they caused more problems in the process and escalated repression. A tenant leader’s apartment burned down due to bad electrical wiring, along with the other eleven units in her building. More canvassing, more meetings; attendance and enthusiasm waxed and waned. Finally, after many cycles of ups and downs, by the end of 2023, people had burned out and key leaders had left VDR, and the campaign came to an end. VDR-TU was dead – but if nothing else, the mailboxes had been fixed, wider renovations had been implemented, two people got married, David Shippy’s name was mud, and dozens of people had experienced an interesting and unique attempt at building an autonomous and militant working-class organization.
A full accounting of the day-to-day and month-to-month of the campaign would make for a very lengthy report. But here are some major lessons and take-aways, to paint a picture of what it was like organizing at VDR, and how socialists should think about tenant organizing.
Big corporate landlords are the scum of the earth – and people love chatting at the door about it
That landlords are parasites shouldn’t be a surprise to socialists – but there is a difference in understanding this in the abstract, versus coming face-to-face with the depths of criminal deprivation and immiseration that landlords subject people to.
Conditions at Vista Del Rey were abysmal in almost every possible way. A non-exhaustive list of issues at VDR included:
- Constant and unannounced water shut-offs and major water main leaks – the bill for which was passed on to tenants
- Mailboxes that had been broken for over a year, forcing people to pick up mail at the post office (if the mail didn’t get lost)
- Air conditioners being broken for weeks, if not months, during the summer
- Broken and unusable laundry machines
- Endemic cockroaches and mold
- Crumbling staircases and weak railings, which routinely broke
- Covid-era rent relief checks getting stolen by management, who then demanded more rent money
- Widespread electrical wiring problems, which in one case resulted in an entire building of twelve apartments burning down
- Arbitrary fees and fines for whenever maintenance was performed (even if temporarily and poorly)
These problems weren’t just incidental. The profit-making strategy of Shippy Properties was overtly about cutting maintenance and services, while simultaneously raising fees and levying fines. As an article in San Antonio Report in January 2022 described:
The stated strategy of David Shippy, the company’s founder and CEO who wrote a 2019 book detailing his wealth-building formula, involves buying up working-class apartment complexes, slashing maintenance costs and charging tenants new fees. “I like to think of each apartment complex as a cash machine,” wrote Shippy in his book Money Matters for Financial Freedom: The Fast Path to Abundance in Life and Business.
But there is a silver lining to the depravities of landlords, which is that tenants are generally more than happy to talk to a stranger at the door about their issues and experiences. Of course, there is always an initial suspicion (“ugh, what do these people want to sell me…”), but once they realize that you’re not a salesman or missionary, and mainly want to hear about their experiences, the barriers vanish. And a key aspect of this is to, in fact, not be trying to sell some grand organizational plan or political ideology (at least, initially), but to show up to have a genuine conversation with somebody. The 80:20 rule is key – a good initial conversation at the door should have the tenant talking for 80% of the time, and the canvasser mainly asking questions and learning. Ask people about how long they’ve been there, what their experiences have been like, if they know their neighbors, if they’ve tried to get management to address problems, what their thoughts are on why things aren’t being solved and how they feel about that. Ultimately, none of this should be that complicated; talk to people and take a genuine interest in who they are!
Door-knocking, surveying about problems, and collecting contact information was probably the easiest aspect of organizing at VDR, and made for many memorable conversations. During one canvassing session, me and another DSA/TUSA member met a mother and her daughter who were in the process of moving in, and were already livid about management not having prepared the apartment at all for move-in. We then helped her move a dishwasher up the stairs. Then her neighbor, a pudgy older guy with no shirt came outside and told us that his own dishwasher had backed up a month ago and had never been fixed. Another time, a guy invited me into his apartment to see the massive hole in his living room ceiling, and the leak in the bathroom. His upstairs neighbor, meanwhile, was furious about the impact of persistent mold on his young son’s health. Not all of the people we talked to were immediately excited about getting involved in a tenant union campaign, or organizing in general; but at a minimum, they were happy to chat about how bad the complex was, and their desire to see things change.
Disorganization is the default mode of existence for working-class people
One thing you realize very quickly when canvassing across apartment complexes is that people are highly atomized – a reflection of the wider problem of “proletarian disorganization” and the fact that whatever working-class institutions and networks that once existed in this country have withered away under neoliberalism. People don’t really talk with their neighbors, beyond waving at them (if that). Tenant unionism thus must overcome an obstacle that labor unionism doesn’t have to deal with: that people tend to lack basic knowledge about one another and their shared problems. Despite the serious and widespread issues at VDR, many people didn’t realize that they had the same problems as their neighbors, which pushed them toward individual solutions (calling management themselves, trying to find a lawyer, or deciding to move out) or just a sense of apathy (“what can I do, I just gotta get used to it”). One tenant who became an early member of the VDR organizing committee told me that when we first knocked on his door, he was happy to chat about his problems, but he was also a bit suspicious about what we wanted and why we were even interested. But once he realized just how many other tenants had the same exact problems as him, it finally clicked that he didn’t have to fight these issues alone.
Another consequence of social disorganization is that people may tend to identify other tenants as the main source of problems, rather than landlords. The issue of crime, in particular, can be a difficult question for socialists to grapple with. One on hand, we have our standard abolitionist principles that rejects the police as a viable solution to social problems; on the other hand, it can be difficult to articulate – let alone implement – abolitionist solutions to immediate issues around crime. At VDR, there were undeniable problems with anti-social behavior, theft and robberies, and even murders; and for many tenants, the obvious solution for this was more police presence. It’s important for tenant organizers to be prepared to discuss these issues and propose solutions that don’t rely on police; meet people where they’re at, but don’t stay where they are at. TUSA and VDR-TU were somewhat successful in this, insofar as whenever complaints about other tenants came up, these were sidelined in favor of focusing on problems caused by the landlord, which most people agreed were more egregious and easier to directly address.
In addition, atomization overlaps with and exacerbates racism and xenophobia. This did not become a particularly large obstacle at VDR, but the complex had a number of cultural and linguistic divisions that created challenges to get people together. Unsurprisingly for San Antonio, the majority of the complex was Latino, with smaller numbers of Black and white people. There were also several immigrant groups, specifically Afghans and Indians, typical for apartments in the Medical Center area. This meant there were small populations of monolingual Pashto, Dari, and Hindi speakers, in addition to the typical group of Spanish speakers. And perhaps most unusually, there was a sizable Romani community – an Eastern European ethnic group with a traditionally nomadic culture, descended from South Asia – many of whom were allegedly squatting in one of the buildings. It was this Roma group, as well as other South/South-West Asian families, who attracted the most animosity from certain tenants, who were suspicious of “refugees” who couldn’t speak English, and who blamed them for vandalism and petty crime.
All of this comes back to the point that one of the most important aspects of tenant organizing is simply to get people to know each other, to break down the default atomization of neoliberal existence. Prejudice in working-class neighborhoods like this can sometimes be very superficial; simply attending a meeting or social with a person you were suspicious of, could be enough to cure you of any wrong-headed ideas. And simply building a sense of community can be enough to provide a greater sense of security, with the knowledge that you know your neighbors, and you have each other’s back.
Despite atomization and exploitation, resistance is widespread
One of the best things about tenant unionism is the consistency with which you’ll come across sudden and unexpected sources of radicalism. Acts of resistance – ranging from individual and spontaneous, to broader and more organized – are already happening, all over the place, in all kinds of ways, and militancy can accelerate faster than an activist is prepared for. People are constantly pushing back individually against their landlord; VDR tenants constantly called in or barged into the office, demanding appliance repairs or an explanation for the latest water leak. During canvassing, a constant theme was tenants wanting to connect with legal resources and sue Shippy Properties. But it is in group discussions with other tenants, that people’s natural instincts about collective action and power can emerge. At the first general event we held at VDR in May 2022, a Know Your Rights training, one older lady almost immediately brought up the idea of a rent strike, talking about the need to hit the landlord in the pocketbooks. The dozen or so other tenants largely agreed that this would be morally justified and strategically sound.
Another memorable moment, fusing individual and collective resistance, happened during a protest VDR-TU held later that summer. As “luck” would have it, during the protest rally held outside the management office, the water was abruptly shut off yet again. A man then came around the corner, still damp from his interrupted shower, and made a beeline to the office and started banging on the door and yelling about the water shut-off. If he wasn’t planning on attending the protest before, his ruined shower made his mind up for him. And this wasn’t the end of the story; his spontaneous passion impressed one of the main tenant leaders of VDR-TU, and they got to talking afterward – and two years later, they got married!
But the most stunning example of spontaneous resistance was something we learned shortly after the protest – that upwards of half the complex was already on a de-facto rent strike. Ironically, we learned this when management sent out an e-mail asserting this mass non-payment of rent, and that this was the reason why they couldn’t do necessary repairs. As it turned out, many people were willing to act on the basic notion that if they weren’t being given habitable apartments, then they shouldn’t have to pay rent – a righteous position, albeit illegal. But the illegality of individual rent strikes were of little concern to many – as they told us themselves, who cared about getting evicted or taking a hit to their credit score, when they already had multiple evictions on their record and no credit score to speak of? At a complex like VDR, filled with the most oppressed layers of the working class, taking risky actions can be an easy choice – there is little left to lose anyway.
Tenant unionism requires high levels of commitment and consistency
Despite the atrocious conditions at VDR and the relatively combative spirit of VDR tenants, the tenant union campaign ultimately fizzled out after about two years. There are a number of reasons for this, some outside of our control; but if I had to pick the biggest shortcoming, it was that those of us in TUSA weren’t able to give the campaign the necessary amount of consistent effort.
A tenant union campaign should have a solid overall plan, and a rapid cadence; if you knock on somebody’s door, you should have an upcoming meeting or action you can invite them to, or at least a 1:1 follow-up if they seem like a potential leader. And more broadly, tenant union campaigns are about relationship-building; quality is better than quantity, especially at the beginning of the campaign. It’s crucial to spend time doing 1:1s with tenants you’re trying to bring into an organizing committee as potential leaders, to get on the same page about the project and the political and social principles of tenant unionism, and to understand their own background, experiences, and ideas. Talking to somebody once at the door and then dropping them into a group chat or Facebook group is not going to get them involved or lead to a functional organizing committee.
Unfortunately with the VDR campaign, most of us didn’t really understand this at the time. After door-knocking sessions, we would try to create big group chats with all the contacts, which would fizzle out over and over again, other than a couple of busybodies who would spam the chat and annoy everybody else. We did few 1:1s, even with people who were enthusiastic about organizing. There were often long gaps of time between talking to somebody and getting their contact info, and actually reaching back out to them. In retrospect, it’s a bit surprising that an actual organizing committee of about a dozen VDR tenants emerged at all, but that may be a testament to just how many people we talked to. But less surprising is that outside of this core group of people who spontaneously and by their own will began organizing, there was little success in building out a wider layer of “cadre” at VDR; the energy required for genuine relationship-building and rigorous onboarding just wasn’t there.
Our inconsistency wasn’t just a result of our relative inexperience, either – a general problem, especially toward the latter phases of the campaign, was the split attention of core TUSA organizers, who were trying to keep the campaign at VDR going while also being in leadership roles in other spaces like San Antonio DSA, Black Rose Anarchist Federation, and labor union campaigns. In retrospect, it was impossible to give the campaign the necessary attention while also being a key member of other campaigns and organizations. A tenant union campaign needs at least a couple of people who are completely focused on finding and developing tenant leaders into an organizing committee, and connecting these leaders with resources, training, and support.
Tenant unionism is worth it, even in failure
Despite the eventual failure of the Vista Del Rey Tenant Union to develop into a mass, militant working-class institution, I would still consider my involvement in the campaign to be the most interesting, educational, and fulfilling project I was ever involved in during my five years living in San Antonio. I met and organized with people who were far outside the typical left-wing activist and organizing spaces – but who nonetheless had deeply radical instincts and ideas. And despite the long-term failure, there were still short-term victories; the mailboxes, broken for years, were fixed after our campaign started. Many organizers had long-standing maintenance issues resolved by management, who hoped this would pacify them. The campaign pushed the city of Leon Valley to engage in their own lawsuit, which forced even more repairs. And one of the main tenant leaders found a husband through the campaign, and invited the core TUSA members to the wedding. Can’t be a total loss if a great party came out of it!
In conclusion, I would encourage all socialists and fellow radicals to engage in tenant organizing. Many of us already rent our homes in the first place; thus, tenant unionism isn’t something that has to make us go “somewhere else” to organize, but instead can be about us building institutions where we are already at, with our own neighbors. And just like with workplace organizing, oftentimes the best way to engage in socialist politics and organizing is to “organize where we are at”, and to radicalize the networks and communities we are already embedded in.
If you’re in Austin, join other Austin DSA members in Greater Austin Tenant Organizing (GATO) to help spread autonomous tenant unionism. Follow and support other local tenant organizing groups, like BASTA. And sign up for the DSA Housing Justice Commission’s upcoming four-part training series on tenant union organizing, scheduled for June!