By Daniel Payne
Wednesday, August 17, 2016
Last week, I wrote about a mostly white, working-class
neighborhood in Philadelphia called Fishtown, where I lived for a few years
before and during the Great Recession. Like other parts of Philly, its fortunes
have been improving recently thanks to the economic recovery and an influx of
young professionals. But the natives of Fishtown are not faring as well.
In that sense, Fishtown is a useful proxy for white
blue-collar communities across America whose social and economic ills are
palpable, and whose residents feel left behind. As a political constituency,
they’ve been discarded by Democrats, whose coalition of affluent urban whites
and various minorities renders them unnecessary. The GOP, particularly its establishment
wing, has never seen much use for them in the first place.
In response, many of these folks are turning to Donald
Trump, whose mix of nativist and protectionist rhetoric assuages their cultural
and economic anxieties. This election cycle, they’ve become the vanguard of a
white identity politics that has little interest in conservative principles
like free markets and limited government. They believe something has gone
horribly wrong in America, and they think Trump can fix it.
He can’t, but if conservatives want to regain control of
the Republican Party and actually govern, they’ll need to reach out to these
people and speak to their anxieties—not by pandering to their worst fears and
inclinations, but by persuading them that they are wrong about almost
everything.
Working-class whites, to the extent they think China and
Mexico have taken their jobs and despoiled their communities, are simply
mistaken. The problem with their neighborhoods and towns is not primarily
economic stagnation, but cultural collapse.
A Study In White
Working-Class Decline
Last week, The
Washington Post ran a long piece unpacking the results of a massive
analysis of 87,000 interviews by Gallup. The survey data shows that although
Trump supporters are less educated and more likely to work blue-collar jobs,
they’re not necessarily poor. In fact, they earn above-average incomes, a
finding that corroborates previous studies. Jonathan Rothwell, the economist at
Gallup who wrote the paper, said the “results do not present a clear picture
between social and economic hardship and support for Trump. The standard
economic measures of income and employment status show that, if anything, more
affluent Americans favor Trump, even among white non-Hispanics.”
But they still tend to live in troubled places like
Fishtown. Rothwell found that, “social well-being, measured by longevity and
intergenerational mobility, is significantly lower” in communities that support
Trump. That means places where people die younger and those who grow up poor are
more likely to stay poor.
These are the parts of the country where for the past 15
years the mortality rate for middle-aged white men has been rising for the
first time since 1968, thanks largely to suicide and drugs. These are also
places that, according to Rothwell, are “racially and culturally isolated zip
codes and commuting zones,” which means they interact less often with the
Mexican immigrants they think are taking American jobs.
Here we come to the crux of the matter. Trump supporters
are not in fact suffering disproportionately from the flight of manufacturing
jobs overseas, or competition from immigrants. They might not be poor
themselves, but they live in places that are in a state of crisis, where the
pathologies of the white working class are manifesting themselves in visceral
ways: heroin overdoses, single-parent families, rampant opioid addiction, vast
swaths of adult men on disability and out of the work force. It’s no wonder
they feel like something has gone horribly wrong in their country. It has—but
not quite in the way they suppose.
Mobility And
Stagnation
One of the major problems is that these areas are
incredibly immobile, both economically and geographically. The poor stay poor,
and they stay put. Some commentators have posited that because Trump supporters
are not necessarily poor, but do tend to live in downtrodden areas, they must
not be selfishly anxious about their own economic futures but those of their
children and their communities. Perhaps, but lack of economic mobility invites
a larger question: if there are no good prospects in these places, why don’t
more people abandon them?
Moving to seek one’s fortune, or just sustenance, has
been part of the American experience since our founding. From the westward
expansion of pioneers in the nineteenth century to the Great Migration of
African Americans to industrial northern cities in the early twentieth century,
Americans have always been on the move—and with good reason. In those earlier
eras, moving was sometimes the only way to avoid starvation. But often it was
also a good way to get ahead.
Recent research suggests a causal relationship between
economic and residential mobility. A major 2014 study by researchers at Harvard
and University of California-Berkeley (PDF)
on intergenerational mobility found that children who grow up in wealthier
neighborhoods tend to fare better as adults. It also found that these places
have common features, like more two-parent families, better schools, and less
residential segregation. Even if you’re not wealthy, living in neighborhoods
like this increases one’s likelihood of climbing up the economic ladder.
Not that it’s easy. According to Scott Winship of the
Manhattan Institute, who published a major study of mobility trends last year,
better-educated Americans have always been more likely to move than their
less-educated countrymen. That was true in 1860 and it’s true today. What’s
different now, though, is that there’s more to be gained by moving. Since about
1980, the difference in earning potential between those who move away from a
low-income state and those who stay behind has been widening, for both men and
women. So why aren’t more poor white people doing it?
I asked Winship, and he said some of it has to do with
comfort. A lot of people in down-scale communities aren’t destitute or in
danger of starving like those in early eras, so they’re less motivated to
uproot their lives. But plenty of people do leave, and those who are left
behind tend to be the least ambitious. “It creates pockets of people who aren’t
upwardly mobile,” Winship said. “They’re doing well enough that they don’t have
to move.”
Part of why they’re doing well enough is because of
growing welfare and disability payments. But it’s not just government welfare.
Winship also mentioned the “private safety net,” in which unemployed men rely
on a girlfriend or family members, often people who are themselves living on
government assistance, for support. These networks of support would likely fray
or disappear altogether if they moved away.
So they’re able to get by well enough to stay put, but
they’re not necessarily working. Indeed, the number of men age 25 to 54 who
have dropped out of the labor force has been increasing for decades. It’s a
serious problem, and something of a mystery to economists, who can’t quite
explain what’s causing it. Alan Berube of the Brookings Institute recently
noted some regional patterns to this phenomenon, which coincide somewhat with
areas where Trump has found support: “These include many small former
industrial centers in states like Michigan, Indiana, and Ohio; areas of West
Virginia and Louisiana that rely on declining-employment industries like
mining; and long-struggling agricultural economies in Arkansas, Texas, and
inland California.”
Globalization
Requires Adaptation
The mobility issue is complex, and there are no easy
explanations for why some people move and others don’t, or why working-age men
are dropping out of the workforce, or why some parts of the country have been
able to adapt to changes in the global economy and some haven’t. There are no
perfect answers, but adaptation and mobility—not nativism and protective
tariffs—are the best responses to the challenges of globalization and economic
stagnation.
After all, the economy isn’t doing that bad right now,
even for the working and middle class. You wouldn’t know it from listening to
Trump, but poverty rates are down, wages are growing, and unemployment is
holding steady. That’s not what Trump’s supporters hear from their candidate.
They hear about how global trade has laid waste the American economy, moved
millions of jobs overseas, and cheated American workers.
To be fair, international trade has shifted some jobs and
industries overseas. But trade creates as well as destroys, and some
communities have benefited from it. A front-page report in the Wall Street Journal last week focused
almost exclusively on how trade with China has devastated the furniture
manufacturing industry in Hickory, North Carolina. But as Hickory native Eric
Cunningham noted in
these pages, the Journal ignores
what helped his town recover: technology.
“Even as the dot-com bubble imploded, telecommunications
kept flourishing, and Hickory had become a hub for it,” writes Cunningham. “By
2000, Hickory produced 40 percent of fiber-optic cable in the world. Rather
than being content with furniture and textiles, the region had—wisely, in
retrospect—expanded its reach and diversified into fiber optics.”
Something similar is happening in regions that once
employed coal miners. Eastern Kentucky, which was home to some 67,000 coal
miners in 1950, employed just 7,000 in 2014. But a program to train laid-off
miners for new careers appears to be working, if still on a small scale. Since
2013, the Eastern Kentucky Concentrated Employment Program has helped more than
1,100 ex-miners find new jobs, like becoming electrical linemen through a
program at a technical college.
Make American
Communities Great Again
Although adaptability and mobility are necessary to
thrive in a changing economy, globalization isn’t what’s really plaguing the
communities where Trump’s nationalist message holds sway. The problem requires
more than training for a new career or moving to a new state. Economic recovery
is one thing; cultural renewal is another.
The truth is, entire swaths of working- and middle-class
white America are now afflicted by something much worse than foreign trade or
immigration. Their communities are in the throes of a moral and cultural
crisis—a breakdown of the family and social institutions that has given rise to
drug addiction, welfare dependency, and simmering resentment. Trump supporters
who live in these places are understandably frustrated, but they’re wrong to
pin the blame on NAFTA, or George W. Bush, or the Obama administration.
Yes, we could have better trade and immigration policies.
But that won’t bring back regions of the country afflicted by heroin and broken
homes and idle men who refuse to work or move for a job. Maybe it’s not
possible to convince Trump supporters of this. But if conservatives ever want
to reclaim the Republican Party and win the White House, they’d better stop
scoffing at the people who feel left behind and start figuring out a way to
bring them along. They need to persuade Trump supporters that they don’t need a
border wall or a disability check to “Make America Great Again.” If they want
to do that, they need to start by making their own towns and neighborhoods and
families great again.
To the extent that there’s a role for the government in
all this, conservatives might consider stealing a line from an old-time
Democrat, who had the right idea but the wrong policies: “Our American answer
to poverty is not to make the poor more secure in their poverty but to reach
down and to help them lift themselves out of the ruts of poverty and move with
the large majority along the high road of hope and prosperity.”
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