“The Slum by the Dump”: How Halifax Policy Framed and Erased Africville

“They said the people in Africville encroached on the government—but I would say the government encroached on the people.”

This remark from a former Africville resident reveals the deep injustice that shaped the relationship between the Black community of Africville and the City of Halifax. For years, city officials made deliberate policy decisions that denied Africville basic services, then used the consequences of those decisions to justify the community’s eventual removal.

One of the clearest examples of this was the city’s decision to place a municipal dump and incinerator beside Africville in 1955. The placement of this facility south of the community was no accident—it reflected a broader set of planning choices that marginalized Africville physically and politically. As a result, Africville came to be known by outsiders as “the slum by the dump”—a label that ignored the city’s role in producing those conditions.

Despite its location within Halifax city limits, Africville was not connected to the city’s water and sewer infrastructure. In 1947, the city’s Commissioner of Public Health and Welfare, Dr. A. R. Morton, dismissed the need for further inspections of Africville’s contaminated wells. He claimed residents were either uninterested in sanitation or incapable of following public health advice.

But what Morton’s comments ignored was the root cause of the contamination: the absence of a sewer system—a service available in other neighbourhoods but denied to Africville.

Rather than invest in extending water and sanitation services to the area, the City offered minimal and outdated solutions. Officials recommended a shared outdoor hydrant as the only appropriate water source for the entire community, a

recommendation that contrasted sharply with the standard piped infrastructure available elsewhere in Halifax.

These policy choices were underpinned by assumptions about Africville’s value and viability. Some city councillors questioned whether the residents would be able to pay property taxes and thus contribute to service costs. A 1950s discussion in council records notes that since there would be “very little, if any revenue” from the project, the city would likely have to cover the entire cost—estimated at $1,500 per year. The implication was clear: extending basic services to Africville was not a priority because it did not promise financial return.

As these debates continued, city leaders began to consider whether public funds would be better spent relocating Africville’s residents entirely. The idea was framed as a humane policy—”rehabilitating” people elsewhere—but it was rooted in the belief that the land Africville occupied was better suited for industrial development. A motion was passed to hold a public meeting with Africville residents, not to explore how to improve services, but to gauge interest in selling their land and leaving the community.

The records show that municipal and provincial officials did eventually move forward with plans to extend a water line from Gottingen Street to Africville. But this proposal had to pass through multiple layers of approval, including the Board of Commissioners of Public Utilities. These bureaucratic hurdles further delayed meaningful action, and in the end, the extension of services was too little, too late.

What emerges from this history is a portrait of policy failure—not in the sense of unintended consequences, but in the sense of intentional neglect. Halifax made a series of decisions that systematically excluded Africville from the infrastructure and support enjoyed by other neighbourhoods. When the resulting conditions became politically untenable, the city used them to rationalize the removal of the community.

Africville was not merely neglected—it was actively targeted by policies that valued efficiency, growth, and industrial development over equity and justice. The community’s erasure was not just the result of poor planning; it was the result of planning policy that failed to account for the needs, voices, and rights of Africville’s people.

Understanding this history requires a critical look at how urban policy can be used to marginalize. Africville’s story is a powerful reminder that policy is never neutral—it reflects choices about whose lives matter and whose do not.