"I had not planned to read this book. I found the author’s essay on the history of American capitalism for the New York Times Magazine‘s 1619 Project badly wanting, so I passed over Poverty, By America,
until one of my students (a sociology major) asked me about it because
he was reading it for his Sociology of Poverty course. Matthew Desmond
is a passionate writer, but verve and fervor are poor substitutes for
sound arguments backed by carefully interpreted data. Desmond’s
conviction and moral certitude are clear on every page—a reviewer for The New Yorker writes, “Its moral force is a gut punch”—but his argument is ultimately unconvincing.
He comes out swinging, beginning his prologue for Poverty, By America with “Why is there so much poverty in America? I wrote this book because I needed an answer to that question.” The word “By” in his title suggests that poverty isn’t just something in America. It’s in America because of America. But as John F. Early explained in his review for the Cato Institute’s Regulation,
Desmond is never clear on what he means by “so much,” particularly
given that the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development’s
reported poverty line changes by country. Its “poverty rate” is the
fraction of the country’s population at or below half that country’s
median income, which means comparing countries’ poverty rates using the
OECD’s headline measure compares apples to oranges. If we measure every
country by the same standard, either the U.S. Federal Poverty Line or
half of the U.S. median income, the United States goes from having one
of the highest poverty rates in the OECD to having one of the lowest. I
doubt, however, that a book titled Poverty, By Scandinavia would have been one of the New York Times’ Notable Books of the Year.
Nonetheless, I found myself nodding my head in agreement regularly.
Desmond rightly draws attention to where we have earned blame. We pay
far too little attention to policies and programs that redistribute
income and wealth upward. We don’t think of economically and
morally suspect tax breaks and credits (like the mortgage interest
deduction) as government benefits, even though there might not be an economic
difference between a tax break and a subsidy, despite the linguistic
difference. And so, he points to a way Americans “spend” a lot on
welfare for the well-off without it looking like we’re doing so. As
scholars have pointed out, Americans run many of our social and
redistributive policies through special provisions in the tax code. If,
for example, you pay $50,000 in taxes and then get a check from the
government for $10,000, you’re out $40,000. If you calculate a $50,000
tax bill and then get a $10,000 tax credit, you’re still out $40,000.
The money is the same, but the language is different.
I think we might be able to agree on welfare reform because the
system we have right now is pathological in terms of the incentives it
creates, and what’s more, it is more upwardly redistributive than we are
inclined to think. Replacing the dog’s breakfast of sometimes
self-contradictory welfare programs with an expanded Earned Income Tax
Credit would win the hearty applause of most economists. Even if we
couldn’t do that, there are plenty of places where we can remove clogs
and chokepoints in a dysfunctional system. We part ways on the economic
incidence of the Earned Income Tax Credit, which Desmond thinks is
subsidizing employers and allowing them to pay lower wages. He’s right,
to a point, but if this source is correct and the pass-through is at
most 36% of each EITC dollar,
then workers are still getting the lion’s share of the benefit. And
besides, it’s a staple of introductory economics classes that the
economic incidence of a tax or subsidy depends on the elasticities of
the supply and demand curves, so it’s not clear we can subsidize work
without at least some of it going into employers’ pockets.
That brings us to the minimum wage, which Desmond thinks should be
raised but is at best a very poorly targeted antipoverty program. In a
2015 paper, Thomas MaCurdy shows how higher minimum wages are, if
anything, regressive insofar as they transfer income from low-income
consumers to low-income workers.
Desmond repeats the old trope that economists believed the minimum wage
caused unemployment because the theory said so before David Card and
Alan Krueger blew up the profession by looking at the data. However,
empirical studies of minimum wage predate Card and Krueger by decades.
Desmond seems to believe the minimum wage is a free lunch, at least for
workers. While he cites work by David Neumark and William Wascher, he
doesn’t give the criticisms of the minimum wage their due. I don’t
expect him to get into the weeds of debates about identification
strategies and the like. However, I’m still confident enough that labor
demand curves slope downward. Labor supply curves slope upward, meaning
higher minimum wages reduce employment and induce people to waste
resources searching harder for jobs that are harder to come by. I don’t
lose sleep over teaching this. Economists Jonathan Meer, Jeffrey
Clemens, and many others have shown that, for example, higher minimum
wages mean fewer non-wage benefits and more effort expended searching
for work.
Desmond rightly takes his fellow progressives to task for displaying
Black Lives Matter flags and those “In this house, we believe…” signs
while also fighting tooth and nail to maintain exclusionary zoning in
the name of protecting the “character of the neighborhood.” Having
written an earlier book called Evicted about the trials and
travails of getting kicked out of an apartment for not paying your
bills, it’s no surprise that Desmond finds housing policy so important.
He should be able, I hope, to make common cause with libertarians like
Bryan Caplan, who are working to identify and reduce the regulatory
burden on new housing construction. Unfortunately, he endorses
“inclusionary zoning,” which requires new projects to include a
set-aside for “affordable housing”—a nebulous term, to say the
least–that acts as a tax on any new construction and that
requires builders to gravitate toward units that will generate enough
revenue to pay for the below-market “affordable” units.
Desmond is also correct about the folly of scapegoating immigrants
for all that ails us. Growing empirical research shows that foreigners
(whether over here or over there) aren’t taking our jobs. Foreigners
over here aren’t bankrupting the welfare state or turning our cities
into criminal wastelands. Indeed, the data suggest that even illegal
immigrants have lower crime rates than natives. Blaming immigrants is a
venerable American (indeed, human) tradition with ugly manifestations
during the Progressive Era, where eugenicists and racists thought it
necessary to control immigration lest the immigrants pollute the gene
pool.
Unfortunately, however, Desmond blames the usual list of suspects:
corporations, speculators. Republicans, Ronald Reagan. The familiar
scapegoats are well-represented, as is the usual hero: government, but this time, a government that does the Will of the People.
First, Desmond asks why the richest country in the world has “so much
poverty.” It’s a fair question, but it’s unclear exactly what would no
longer be “so much poverty.” He doesn’t contextualize some of his
numbers and slips back and forth between incommensurate definitions when
he wants to make international comparisons. Domestically, he uses the
federal poverty line and is aghast that there were some 38 million
people in the United States who lived below the federal poverty line as
of 2021. It’s a “country” larger than Venezuela and Australia (and, I
would add, richer than Venezuela). Any decent person, I suspect, would
say that’s 38 million too many, but it’s about 11% of the population–and
over the long run, it’s headed in the right direction.
Crucially, the story you can tell depends on which endpoints you
pick. In Desmond’s book, Ronald Reagan gets a lot of blame, but what is
Reagan’s record on poverty? When Reagan took office in 1981, 14% of the
population lived in poverty. It had fallen to 12.8% by the time he left
in 1989. Should Reagan get credit for this? It increased to 15.1% in
1993 (when Bill Clinton took office) before falling to 11.7% in 2001,
when Clinton left office. It was 14.3% when George W. Bush left office
in 2009 and then went back down to 12.3% after Obama left in 2017. By
the end of Donald Trump’s first term, it was 11.6%. The fraction of the
population in poverty has remained stubbornly stuck in the 11-15% range
since the late 1960s. Desmond is eager to credit the Great Society with
falling poverty; these lower poverty rates reflect the continuation of
trends that started earlier. As Early explains, “Had poverty merely
maintained its pre-1964 trend, it would have been 9.2 percent in 1974,
not 11.2 percent.”
Desmond reports many facts, but as Steven Landsburg has explained,
nothing is less interesting than a fact unilluminated by a theory. And
Desmond’s theory doesn’t go beyond
“employers/corporations/landlords/Republicans are mean.” Maybe so. Mr. Potter in It’s A Wonderful Life and pre-conversion Ebenezer Scrooge in A Christmas Carol
had rotten souls. But at the risk of sounding condescending, incentives
matter much more than intentions, and too often, Desmond makes claims
that, if true, imply that the profit-obsessed sociopaths he excoriates
are systematically overlooking opportunities to make gobs of money by
hiring armies of “underpaid” workers. It’s Schrodinger’s Corporation:
simultaneously blinded by the profit motive and blind to the
enormous profits they could enjoy by offering better pay and benefits to
other firms’ “underpaid” workers and pocketing the still-enormous
difference between this slightly higher pay and what the workers
produce.
We can say something similar about Desmond’s poverty victims
suffering “exploitation,” a word he uses loosely. Desmond claims that
housing is more expensive in low-income neighborhoods than in
higher-income neighborhoods, which means landlords are exploiting the
poor. But why don’t the poor who are overpaying for housing in the bad
part of town lower their housing costs by moving to the nice part?
Desmond’s explanations for why they don’t, which include poor credit
histories and episodes of non-payment that mean they get turned down for
apartments in the nice parts of town, suggest that what he has
identified is a risk premium and not “exploitation.” As he explains,
landlords take home profits for many years because bad things don’t
happen every year, but all it takes is one large enough riot or natural
disaster to turn years of profits into a single year of catastrophic
losses.
Desmond illustrates his argument with tragic and frustrating
anecdotes that raise obvious but unanswered questions his “exploitation”
argument can’t answer satisfactorily. He tells the story of Julio (not
his real name, obviously), who worked two full-time jobs to support his
family and collapsed from exhaustion in a grocery store. Later, he
doesn’t have to work as hard due to the higher minimum wage in Julio’s
California town. Good for Julio. What we don’t see, however, is the
people who can’t supply the hours they want to supply (or get a job at
all) because they aren’t productive enough to be employable at the
minimum wage.
Furthermore, Desmond explains that Julio wouldn’t have the problem of
low wages and a porous social safety net if he lived in Denmark. So why
doesn’t Julio move his family to Denmark, where he would have higher
wages and greater security? The answer is that Denmark wouldn’t have
him. Denmark is a lovely place where I’ve spent more time than I’ve
spent in any other country save the United States, but it’s also a
difficult place to move to legally. The Scandinavian welfare states
“work” in part by keeping non-Scandinavians out and maintaining a
homogeneous culture of “we’re all Danes (or Swedes, or Norwegians), and
we don’t cheat our fellow Danes (or Swedes, or Norwegians).” The Danes
are lovely people, Denmark is lovely, and I wear my FC København jersey
proudly. However, if the entire world were a large American city, the
Scandinavian countries would be the exclusive, highly regulated suburbs
with rules written to keep the riffraff out.
Some of Desmond’s anecdotes seem calculated for minimum sympathy.
There’s the story of a father snorting speedballs at work that doesn’t
lead to the obvious conclusion, “don’t snort speedballs at work.” He
tells the tragic story of Crystal, who bounced around in the foster care
system. It’s a tragic origin story, of course, but it seems like it was
at least possible for her to have avoided homelessness and
prostitution. She quit high school at 16. She “met a woman at a homeless
shelter and secured another apartment with her new friend” (page 12).
Great! But then we read the next sentence: “Then Crystal put that new
friend’s friend through a window, and the landlord told Crystal to
leave” (page 13).
So, Crystal lost her apartment for throwing her roommate’s friend
through a window. Unless it was a first-floor apartment, this seems like
a pretty credible case for an attempted murder charge, not just
eviction. Are we to be surprised that this isn’t the sort of tenant a
landlord wants? But fortunately, Crystal had a network to fall back on
as she “spent nights in shelters, with friends, and with members of her
church” (page 13). Great! But a bit later, we learn that she “burned
through the remaining ties she had from church and her foster families”
(page 13). How, exactly? Poverty, By America is a short book
for a general audience, but these seem like obvious questions a general
audience would want answered. Desmond at least concedes (perhaps
inadvertently) that Crystal isn’t wholly bereft of agency, noting that
“Crystal had never been an early riser, but she learned that mornings
were the best time to turn tricks, catching men on their way to work”
(page 13). That raises another question about the economics and
sociology of poverty: how many of her clients would suffer less if they
weren’t in the habit of paying for sex en route to work?
Desmond criticizes the “success sequence,” touted by conservative
think tanks and which says that your probability of living in poverty is
very low if you simply finish high school, work full time (at any job,
not just a “good job,” as Desmond suggests), and don’t have children out
of wedlock. Desmond says, “we might as well be asking that person to
just get a different life” (page 40), but presumably, we study poverty
and make policy to alleviate it because poor people want
different lives. It’s not clear what to do about people like Crystal,
who have, it seems, exacerbated poor choices by burning bridges, but it
seems like a can’t-miss message for young people who still have time to
make “success sequence” choices. And one has to wonder: would Crystal
herself advise teenage girls to drop out of school at 16, get evicted
for throwing someone through a window, and burn through the remaining
ties they might have from church, family, and other relationships, no
matter how tenuous? Would she look back and say, “This was inevitable?
There is literally nothing I could have done to avoid this?” I doubt it.
But here, Desmond’s message to the rock-ribbed and presumably
hard-hearted conservative should resonate, at least slightly. If we’re
all honest with ourselves, we can all look back at times when something
random could have led to very different life outcomes. Think back to
when you either made or barely avoided a poor choice. How different
would things be had that gone the other way? A sober assessment of our
lives should show us that things could be much better, but could also be
much worse.
But what do we do with that? I walk our dog in Birmingham’s Avondale
Park every morning and most evenings. We live in a
checkered-but-gentrifying neighborhood where many buildings are empty
thanks to city rules and permitting processes making it hard to do
anything with them (which helps explain Desmond’s invocation of
Birmingham’s apartment vacancies on page 65). Several homeless people
live in the park and on the streets surrounding it, and when I want to
get annoyed, I just tell myself, “There but by the grace of God go I.”
But what do I do about it? I don’t have a good answer. Service and
outreach organizations (government and private sector) that provide
health care, job training, food, and other services are within easy
reach of Avondale Park. Why aren’t they using these services? I don’t
know.
At the beginning of the book, Desmond writes that “some lives are
made small so that others may grow” (page 8). He’s correct, up to a
point, and for most of history, the way to get rich was to steal, kill,
and destroy. High real estate values are a product of exclusionary
zoning and rules that make it difficult and costly to build new housing,
but that doesn’t mean Jeff Bezos earns a lot because Amazon workers don’t. As Deirdre McCloskey and I argued in our 2020 book Leave Me Alone and I’ll Make You Rich,
the best thing we can do for people is to get out of their way. Stop
expecting them to ask permission to try new things, innovate, buy low,
and sell high.
Desmond wants to outlaw low wages, but while this might mean some
people like Julio feel better off, he is silent on the people who will
not be able to work if the jobs they can actually do are outlawed. He
wants people to boycott companies that offer low wages and lousy working
conditions, but would he suggest boycotting U.S. women’s soccer because
the U.S. women’s team doesn’t earn what the U.S. men’s team earns? I
doubt it. Should we have a more generous welfare state? Once you account
for private and government welfare spending, U.S. and Nordic welfare
institutions are comparable, and we didn’t get European-style welfare
states not because of some sinister conspiracy but because mutual aid
societies and industrial sickness funds worked well (Davie Beito’s book From Mutal Aid to the Welfare State and John Murray’s Origins of American Health Insurance make these points clear).
He also wants to strengthen labor cartels, known as unions, but
unions increase their incomes by shutting out competitors. Unions are
great for insiders and not so great for outsiders. It’s not clear that
the distributional consequences are desirable. Desmond is right that we
would make things much better by eliminating exclusionary zoning and
making it possible to build housing more densely, but he doesn’t devote a
lot of attention to licensing laws that severely restrict the
flexibility of the labor market. I would have been encouraged to see
Desmond draw on economics’ work on housing markets, occupational
licensing, and immigration to propose radical economic liberalization,
but he doesn’t.
Poverty, By America is an interesting but ultimately
unnecessary and fundamentally flawed book. You can it skip safely if you
want to understand poverty and prosperity. To borrow a cliche, what is
original in the book is incorrect, and what is correct is not original.
Poverty bothers Matthew Desmond to his core; this is commendable.
However, anyone who picked up this book and used it as a manual for
poverty abolition would be sorely disappointed."