The remarkable Frances Fox Piven explains in the context of our long and shameful "war against the poor" the importance of the Occupy movement in redirecting public attention to the extreme inequality of wealth and casting it as a moral issue.
The War Against the Poor
By Frances Fox Piven, cross-posted from TomDispatch
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 Republicans now 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 $2,700 between 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).
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Occupy Wall Street and The Politics Of Financial Morality
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