We’ve been at war for decades
now -- not just in Afghanistan
or Iraq ,
but right here at home. Domestically, it’s been a war against the poor,
but if you hadn’t noticed, that’s not surprising. You wouldn’t often have found
the casualty figures from this particular conflict in your local newspaper or
on the nightly TV news. Devastating as it’s been, the war against the
poor has gone largely unnoticed -- until now.
The Occupy Wall Street
movement has already made the concentration of wealth at the top of this
society a central issue in American politics. Now, it promises to do
something similar when it comes to the realities of poverty in this country.
By making Wall Street its
symbolic target, and branding itself as a movement of the 99%, OWS has
redirected public attention to the issue of extreme inequality, which it has
recast as, essentially, a moral problem. Only a short time ago, the
“morals” issue in politics meant the propriety of sexual preferences,
reproductive behavior, or the personal behavior of presidents. Economic
policy, including tax cuts for the rich, subsidies and government protection
for insurance and pharmaceutical companies, and financial deregulation, was
shrouded in clouds of propaganda or simply considered too complex for ordinary
Americans to grasp.
Now, in what seems like no
time at all, the fog has lifted and the topic on the table everywhere seems to
be the morality of contemporary financial capitalism. The protestors have
accomplished this mainly through the symbolic power of their actions: by naming
Wall Street, the heartland of financial capitalism, as the enemy, and by welcoming
the homeless and the down-and-out to their occupation sites. And
of course, the slogan “We are the 99%” reiterated the message that almost all
of us are suffering from the reckless profiteering of a tiny handful. (In
fact, they aren’t far off: the
increase in income of the top 1% over the past three decades about
equals the losses of the bottom 80%.)
The movement’s moral call is
reminiscent of earlier historical moments when popular uprisings invoked ideas
of a “moral economy” to justify demands for bread or grain or wages -- for,
that is, a measure of economic justice. Historians usually attribute
popular ideas of a moral economy to custom and tradition, as when the British
historian E.P. Thompson traced the idea of a “just price” for basic foodstuffs
invoked by eighteenth century English food rioters to then already
centuries-old Elizabethan statutes. But the rebellious poor have never
simply been traditionalists. In the face of violations of what they
considered to be their customary rights, they did not wait for the magistrates
to act, but often took it upon themselves to enforce what they considered to be
the foundation of a just moral economy.
Being Poor By the Numbers
A moral economy for our own
time would certainly take on the unbridled accumulation of wealth at the
expense of the majority (and the
planet). It would also single out for special condemnation the
creation of an ever-larger stratum of people we call “the poor” who struggle to
survive in the shadow of the overconsumption and waste of that top 1%.
Some facts: early in 2011,
the U.S. Census Bureau reported that
14.3% of the population, or 47 million people -- one in six Americans -- were
living below the official poverty threshold, currently set at $22,400 annually
for a family of four. Some 19 million people are living in what is called
extreme poverty, which means that their household income falls in the bottom
half of those considered to be below the poverty line. More than a third
of those extremely poor people are children. Indeed, more than half of all
children younger than six living with a single mother are poor.
Extrapolating from this data, Emily Monea and Isabel Sawhill of the Brookings
Institution estimate that further
sharp increases in both poverty and child poverty rates lie in our
American future.
Some experts dispute
these numbers on the grounds that they neither take account of the
assistance that the poor still receive, mainly through the food stamp program,
nor of regional variations in the cost of living. In fact, bad as they
are, the official numbers don’t tell the full story. The situation of the
poor is actually considerably worse. The official poverty line is calculated as
simply three times the minimal food budget first introduced in 1959, and then
adjusted for inflation in food costs. In other words, the American
poverty threshold takes no account of the cost of housing or fuel or
transportation or health-care costs, all of which are rising more rapidly than
the cost of basic foods. So the poverty measure grossly understates the real
cost of subsistence.
Moreover, in 2006, interest
payments on consumer debt had already put more than four million people, not
officially in poverty, below the line, making them “debt
poor.” Similarly, if childcare
costs, estimated at $5,750 a year in 2006, were deducted from gross income,
many more people would be counted as officially poor.
Nor are these catastrophic
levels of poverty merely a temporary response to rising unemployment rates or
reductions in take-home pay resulting from the great economic meltdown of
2008. The numbers tell the story and it’s clear enough: poverty was on
the rise before the Great Recession hit. Between 2001 and 2007, poverty actually increased for
the first time on record during an economic recovery. It rose from 11.7%
in 2001 to 12.5% in 2007. Poverty rates for single mothers in 2007 were
49% higher in the U.S. than in 15 other high-income countries. Similarly,
black employment rates and income were declining before the recession
struck.
In part, all of this was the
inevitable fallout from a decades-long business mobilization to reduce labor
costs by weakening unions and changing public policies that protected workers
and those same unions. As a result, National Labor Board decisions became
far less favorable to both workers and unions, workplace regulations were not
enforced, and the minimum wage lagged far behind inflation.
Inevitably, the overall
impact of the campaign to reduce labor’s share of national earnings meant that
a growing number of Americans couldn’t earn even a poverty-level livelihood --
and even that’s not the whole of it. The poor and the programs that
assisted them were the objects of a full-bore campaign directed specifically at
them.
Campaigning Against the
Poor
This attack began even while
the Black Freedom Movement of the 1960s was in full throttle. It was
already evident in the failed 1964 presidential campaign of Republican Barry
Goldwater, as well as in the recurrent campaigns of sometime Democrat and
segregationist governor of Alabama George Wallace. Richard Nixon’s
presidential bid in 1968 picked up on the theme.
As many commentators have
pointed out, his triumphant campaign strategy tapped into the rising racial
animosities not only of white southerners, but of a white working class in the
north that suddenly found itself locked in competition with newly urbanized
African-Americans for jobs, public services, and housing, as well as in campaigns
for school desegregation. The racial theme quickly melded into political
propaganda targeting the poor and contemporary poor-relief programs.
Indeed, in American politics “poverty,” along with “welfare,” “unwed
mothers,” and “crime,” became code words for blacks.
In the process, resurgent
Republicans tried to defeat Democrats at the polls by associating them with
blacks and with liberal policies meant to alleviate poverty. One result
was the infamous “war on drugs” that largely ignored major traffickers in favor
of the lowest level offenders in inner-city communities. Along with that
came a massive program of prison building and incarceration, as well as the
wholesale “reform” of the main means-tested cash assistance program, Aid to
Families of Dependent Children. This politically driven attack on the
poor proved just the opening drama in a decades-long campaign launched by
business and the organized right against workers.
This was not only war
against the poor, but the very “class war” that Republicansnow
use to brand just about any action they don’t like. In fact,
class war was the overarching goal of the campaign, something that would soon
enough become apparent in policies that led to a massive redistribution of the
burden of taxation, the cannibalization of government services through
privatization, wage cuts and enfeebled unions, and the deregulation of
business, banks, and financial institutions.
The poor -- and blacks --
were an endlessly useful rhetorical foil, a propagandistic distraction used to
win elections and make bigger gains. Still, the rhetoric was important. A
host of new think tanks, political organizations, and lobbyists in Washington
D.C. promoted the message that the country’s problems were caused by the poor
whose shiftlessness, criminal inclinations, and sexual promiscuity were being
indulged by a too-generous welfare system.
Genuine suffering followed
quickly enough, along with big cuts in the means-tested programs that helped
the poor. The staging of the cuts was itself enwreathed in clouds of
propaganda, but cumulatively they frayed the safety net that protected both the
poor and workers, especially low-wage ones, which meant women and minorities.
When Ronald Reagan entered the Oval Office in 1980, the path had been smoothed
for huge cuts in programs for poor people, and by the 1990s the Democrats,
looking for electoral strategies that would raise campaign dollars from big
business and put them back in power, took up the banner. It was Bill Clinton,
after all, who campaigned on the slogan “end welfare as we know it.”
A Movement for a Moral
Economy
The war against the poor at
the federal level was soon matched in state capitols where organizations like
the American Federation for Children, the American Legislative Exchange
Council, the Institute for Liberty, and the State Policy Network went to
work. Their lobbying agenda was ambitious, including the large-scale
privatization of public services, business tax cuts, the rollback of
environmental regulations and consumer protections, crippling public sector
unions, and measures (like requiring photo identification) that would restrict
the access students and the poor had to the ballot. But the poor were
their main public target and again, there were real life consequences --
welfare cutbacks, particularly in the Aid to Families with Dependent Children
program, and a law-and-order campaign that resulted in the massive
incarceration of black men.
The Great Recession sharply
worsened these trends. The Economic Policy Institute reports that the
typical working-age household, which had already seen a decline of roughly
$2,300 in income between 2000 and 2006, lost another $2,700between
2007 and 2009. And when “recovery” arrived, however uncertainly, it was
mainly in low-wage industries, which accounted
for nearly half of what growth there was. Manufacturing
continued to contract, while the labor market lost 6.1% of payroll employment.
New investment, when it occurred at all, was more likely to be in machinery
than in new workers, so
unemployment levels remain alarmingly high. In other words, the
recession accelerated ongoing market trends toward lower-wage and ever more
insecure employment.
The recession also prompted
further cutbacks in welfare programs. Because cash assistance has become
so hard to get, thanks to so-called welfare reform, and fallback
state-assistance programs have been crippled, the federal food stamp program
has come to carry much of the weight in providing assistance to the poor.
Renamed the “Supplemental Nutritional Assistance Program,” it was boosted by
funds provided in the Recovery Act, and benefits temporarily rose, as did
participation. But Congress has repeatedly attempted to slash the
program’s funds, and even to divert some of them into farm subsidies, while
efforts, not yet successful, have been made to deny food stamps to any family
that includes a worker on strike.
The organized right
justifies its draconian policies toward the poor with moral arguments.
Right-wing think tanks and blogs, for instance, ponder the damaging effect on
disabled poor children of becoming “dependent” on government assistance, or
they scrutinize government nutritional assistance for poor pregnant women and
children in an effort to explain away positive outcomes for infants.
The willful ignorance and
cruelty of it all can leave you gasping -- and gasp was all we did for
decades. This is why we so desperately needed a movement for a new kind
of moral economy. Occupy Wall Street, which has already changed the
national conversation, may well be its beginning.
Frances Fox Piven is on
the faculty of the Graduate School of the City University of New York. She is
the author, along with Richard Cloward, of Regulating the Poor and Poor
People’s Movements. Her latest book, just published, is Who’s Afraid of Frances
Fox Piven? The Essential Writings of the Professor Glenn Beck Loves to Hate
(The New Press).
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