This story first appeared on the Tom Dispatch website.
Individually the poor are not too tempting to thieves, for obvious
reasons. Mug a banker and you might score a wallet containing a month's
rent. Mug a janitor and you will be lucky to get away with bus fare to
flee the crime scene. But as
Business Week helpfully pointed out in 2007, the poor
in aggregate provide a juicy target for anyone depraved enough to make a business of stealing from them.
The trick is to rob them in ways that are systematic, impersonal, and
almost impossible to trace to individual perpetrators. Employers, for
example, can simply program their computers to shave a few dollars off
each paycheck, or they can require workers to show up 30 minutes or
more before the time clock starts ticking.
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Lenders, including major credit companies as well as payday lenders,
have taken over the traditional role of the street-corner loan shark,
charging the poor insanely high rates of interest. When supplemented
with late fees (themselves subject to interest), the resulting effective
interest rate can be as high as 600% a year, which is perfectly legal
in many states.
It's not just the private sector that's preying on the poor. Local
governments are discovering that they can partially make up for
declining tax revenues through fines, fees, and other costs imposed on
indigent defendants, often for crimes no more dastardly than driving
with a suspended license. And if that seems like an inefficient way to
make money, given the high cost of locking people up, a growing number
of jurisdictions have taken to
charging defendants for their court costs and even the price of occupying a jail cell
.
The
poster case for government persecution of the down-and-out would have
to be Edwina Nowlin, a homeless Michigan woman who was
jailed in 2009
for failing to pay $104 a month to cover the room-and-board charges
for her 16-year-old son's incarceration. When she received a back
paycheck, she thought it would allow her to pay for her son's jail
stay. Instead, it was confiscated and applied to the cost of her own
incarceration.
Government Joins the Looters of the Poor
You might think that policymakers would take a keen interest in the
amounts that are stolen, coerced, or extorted from the poor, but there
are no official efforts to track such figures. Instead, we have to turn
to independent investigators, like Kim Bobo, author of
Wage Theft in America,
who estimates that wage theft nets employers at least $100 billion a
year and possibly twice that. As for the profits extracted by the
lending industry, Gary Rivlin, who wrote
Broke USA: From Pawnshops to Poverty, Inc.—How the Working Poor Became Big Business,
says the poor pay an effective surcharge of about $30 billion a year
for the financial products they consume and more than twice that if you
include subprime credit cards, subprime auto loans, and subprime
mortgages.
These are not, of course, trivial amounts. They are on the same order
of magnitude as major public programs for the poor. The government
distributes about $55 billion a year, for example, through the largest
single cash-transfer program for the poor, the
Earned Income Tax Credit; at the same time, employers are siphoning off twice that amount, if not more, through wage theft.
And while government generally turns a blind eye to the tens of
billions of dollars in exorbitant interest that businesses charge the
poor, it is notably chary with public benefits for the poor. Temporary
Assistance to Needy Families, for example, our sole remaining nationwide
welfare program,
gets only
$26 billion a year in state and federal funds. The impression is left
of a public sector that's gone totally schizoid: on the one hand,
offering safety-net programs for the poor; on the other, enabling
large-scale private sector theft from the very people it is supposedly
trying to help.
At the local level though, government is increasingly opting to join
in the looting. In 2009, a year into the Great Recession, I first
started hearing complaints from community organizers about ever more
aggressive levels of law enforcement in low-income areas. Flick a
cigarette butt and
get arrested
for littering; empty your pockets for an officer conducting a
stop-and-frisk operation and get cuffed for a few flakes of marijuana.
Each of these offenses can result, at a minimum, in a three-figure fine.
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And
the number of possible criminal offenses leading to jail and/or fines
has been multiplying recklessly. All across the country—from California
and Texas to Pennsylvania—counties and municipalities have been
toughening laws against truancy and ratcheting up enforcement, sometimes
going so far as to handcuff children found on the streets during
school hours. In New York City, it's now a crime to put your feet up on
a subway seat, even if the rest of the car is empty, and a South
Carolina woman spent six days in jail when she was unable to pay a $480
fine for the
crime of having a "messy yard." Some cities—most recently, Houston and Philadelphia—have made it a crime to
share food with indigent people in public places.
Being poor itself is not yet a crime, but in at least a third of the states, being in debt can now land you
in jail.
If a creditor like a landlord or credit card company has a court
summons issued for you and you fail to show up on your appointed court
date, a warrant will be issued for your arrest. And it is easy enough to
miss a court summons, which may have been delivered to the wrong
address or, in the case of some bottom-feeding bill collectors, simply
tossed in the garbage—a practice so common that the industry even has a
term for it: "sewer service." In a sequence that National Public Radio
reports
is "increasingly common," a person is stopped for some minor traffic
offense—having a noisy muffler, say, or broken brake light—at which
point the officer discovers the warrant and the unwitting offender is
whisked off to jail.
Local Governments as Predators
Each of these crimes, neo-crimes, and pseudo-crimes carries financial
penalties as well as the threat of jail time, but the amount of money
thus extracted from the poor is fiendishly hard to pin down. No central
agency tracks law enforcement at the local level, and local records
can be almost willfully sketchy.
According to one of the few recent nationwide estimates, from the
National Association of Criminal Defense Lawyers, 10.5 million
misdemeanors were committed in 2006. No one would risk estimating the
average financial penalty for a misdemeanor, although the experts I
interviewed all affirmed that the amount is typically in the "hundreds
of dollars." If we take an extremely lowball $200 per misdemeanor, and
bear in mind that 80%-90% of criminal offenses are committed by people
who are officially indigent, then local governments are using law
enforcement to extract, or attempt to extract, at least $2 billion a
year from the poor.
And that is only a small fraction of what governments would like to
collect from the poor. Katherine Beckett, a sociologist at the
University of Washington, estimates that "deadbeat dads" (and moms)
owe
$105 billion in back child-support payments, about half of which is
owed to state governments as reimbursement for prior welfare payments
made to the children. Yes, parents have a moral obligation to their
children, but the great majority of child-support debtors are indigent.
Attempts to collect from the already-poor can be vicious and often, one would think, self-defeating. Most states
confiscate
the drivers' licenses of people owing child support, virtually
guaranteeing that they will not be able to work. Michigan just started
suspending the drivers' licenses of people who owe money for parking tickets. Las Cruces, New Mexico, just
passed a law that punishes people who owe overdue traffic fines by cutting off their water, gas, and sewage.
Once a person falls into the clutches of the criminal justice system,
we encounter the kind of slapstick sadism familiar to viewers of
Wipeout.
Many courts impose fees without any determination of whether the
offender is able to pay, and the privilege of having a payment plan will
itself cost money.
In a study of 15 states, the Brennan Center for Justice at New York
University found 14 of them contained jurisdictions that charge a
lump-sum "poverty penalty" of up to $300 for those who cannot pay their
fees and fines, plus late fees and "collection fees" for those who need
to pay over time. If any jail time is imposed, that too may cost
money, as the hapless Edwina Nowlin discovered, and the costs of parole
and probation are increasingly being passed along to the offender.
The predatory activities of local governments give new meaning to
that tired phrase "the cycle of poverty." Poor people are more far more
likely than the affluent to get into trouble with the law, either by
failing to pay parking fines or by incurring the wrath of a
private-sector creditor like a landlord or a hospital.
Once you have been deemed a criminal, you can pretty much kiss your
remaining assets goodbye. Not only will you face the aforementioned
court costs, but you'll have a hard time
ever finding a job again
once you've acquired a criminal record. And then of course, the poorer
you become, the more likely you are to get in fresh trouble with the
law, making this less like a "cycle" and more like the waterslide to
hell. The further you descend, the faster you fall—until you eventually
end up on the streets and get busted for an offense like
urinating in public or sleeping on a sidewalk.
I could propose all kinds of policies to curb the ongoing predation
on the poor. Limits on usury should be reinstated. Theft should be taken
seriously even when it's committed by millionaire employers. No one
should be incarcerated for debt or squeezed for money they have no
chance of getting their hands on. These are no-brainers, and should take
precedence over any long term talk about generating jobs or
strengthening the safety net. Before we can "do something" for the poor,
there are some things we need to stop doing
to them.
Barbara Ehrenreich, a TomDispatch regular, is the author of Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By in America (now in a 10th anniversary edition with a new afterword). She is most recently the founder of the just-launched Economic Hardship Reporting Project,
which supports innovative journalism on poverty and economic hardship.
To listen to Timothy MacBain's latest Tomcast audio interview in
which Ehrenreich discusses how the poor get soaked and her latest
project to fund investigative journalism on poverty, click here or download it to your iPod here. Follow TomDispatch on Twitter @TomDispatch and join us on Facebook. To stay on top of important articles like these, sign up to receive the latest updates from TomDispatch.com here.