Wednesday, May 12, 2021

Thoughts on Nick Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn's Tightrope

 


The picture of low-income America that Kristof and WuDunn paint is a bleak one. I’ve seen quite a few GDP over time graphs, and GDP always seems to be going up. Every time I’ve put money in the stock market, it increases over the long run, so I’ve assumed that the economy in America has continued to improve. The total pie has grown, but real wages and overall wealth have actually decreased for hourly and other non-salaried workers since the 1970s (33). The number of men aged 25 to 54 who do not have a job but aren’t looking for a job (and therefore don’t appear in unemployment statistics) has quintupled since the 1950s (34)[1]. The authors suggest that the decrease in good career opportunities for the poor is the root cause to a host of other problems: the poor in America have a “life expectancy similar to that of Mongolia, a homicide rate higher than in Rwanda, and an incarceration rate that is the highest in the world” (226).

Like J.D. Vance’s Hillbilly Elegy and Tara Westover’s Educated, the book portrays life in poor and rural communities in America for a mainstream (or should I say wealthy?) audience. Tightrope lacks the “THIS-IS-NUTS!” appeal of Educated and Hillbilly Elegy, but it offers the most complete picture of poverty in America of the three.  

There is a tension in Tightrope: many of the poor in America believe that their problems are self-inflicted, yet the authors see policy, business and cultural failures that led to these problems. For example, the authors tell the story of a veteran, Daniel. While serving in the military, Daniel was badly wounded in Afghanistan and then was prescribed painkillers. He became addicted to the painkillers, and when a new doctor reduced his prescription, he couldn’t stand it and started heroin. The authors asked him who “he blames for his addiction.” Daniel responds, “I blame myself . . . At any point, I could have said, I don’t want to do this . . . I chose to do this.” The authors comment,

At one level, it may be useful for Daniel to blame himself. Grassroots addiction programs emphasize that participants must take responsibility for their own actions, never making excuses, because patients have better outcomes when they accept this mantra of personal responsibility. . . .

Yet in a larger sense, Daniel was unfair to himself. . . By official estimates, 2.1 million Americans suffer opioid addiction. . . When so many Americans simultaneously make the same bad choice, that should be a clue that the problem is not simply individual moral failure. . . .

Here’s one way of looking at what happened: Daniel was injured on the job, and then doctors in and out of the military prescribed highly addictive opioids that got him hooked. . . . (80).

The authors’ analysis is persuasive, but sometimes the gap between what the poor themselves say and the authors’ analysis was a little striking.[2] This tension reflects a weird irony in America where sometimes rich people are more supportive of government help for the poor than poor people are. The authors explain this by saying that “the working poor are disdainful of government benefits, even though they sometimes rely on them, partly because they often see firsthand how neighbors abuse those benefits” (70). The authors include an anecdote involving a woman who uses her pit bull to deter repossession teams from grabbing furniture and televisions that haven’t been paid for and government officials from shutting off electricity.

In documenting “interventions that work,” the authors refuse to pick a side of the private charity vs. governmental safety net debate, saying that we need more of both.[3] The authors respond to conservative austerity in poverty-combating measures by saying that effective policy will pay for itself: “a dollar invested in addiction treatment programs saves $12 in reduced crime and court costs, plus health-care savings” (96).   

As a religious person, I was interested to see how WuDunn and Kristof talk about religion’s role in the lives of the working poor, as my sense is that religion plays a much bigger role in the lives of the poor than the wealthy in America. The authors’ tone is skeptic when they mention a minister who “says she can lay hands on people and cure them of cancer” (99), but generally, they acknowledge the positive power that religion has in poor communities in the U.S.

Many of the families highlighted who grew up in poor America but managed to improve their lives are deeply religious and credit their religion as their escape. Edward and Mary Davis raised 17 kids in Pine Bluff, Arkansas, a predominately African-American city with a per capita income of $18,500 (194). After Edward was injured on the job and left work, Mary was the sole provider for her 17 kids. “[A]ll graduated from high school and studied in college or went into the military” (194). The children mentioned earn high GPAs, get good jobs, and buy their own homes. What was their secret to success? Mary says, “I serve a true and living God and He is my source. He is my provider and if I didn’t serve Him, if I didn’t believe in God, I wouldn’t have made it” (195). 

When Tani, the homeless boy who won a state chess championship, was gifted a home and $250,000 by Nick Kristof’s readers, the family paid tithing to their church on the income and then gave the rest of the money away to other families, citing their gratitude to God as the cause of their generosity. Mormons[4] get a shoutout for achieving good outcomes in locations where others struggled (170).

Reading Tightrope, I did sense that Kristof and WuDunn are good people, trying to help solve problems that desperately need solving. They seem eager to report what actually helps even as that contradicts simple, highly partisan narratives. The book can be heavy at times, but it was also inspiring to learn about all the generosity and initiatives that are at work today in America. I highly recommend Tightrope.

 



[1] Maybe increased numbers of older graduate students and/or increased number of stay-at-home dads are part of the explanation?

[2] See also page 105.

[3] However, it does feel like more of the examples from the book of people getting effective help in challenging circumstances came from help from private charities

[4] Members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints

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