Factors of Socioeconomic Status and Class in Professional Practice

An individual’s socioeconomic status and class can sometimes be identified by material objects, educational background, occupation, and access to resources; however, socioeconomic status and class, like other multicultural factors, are not always evident through visual cues. In fact, self-identification does not always match others’ perceptions. How might factors related to socioeconomic status and class impact your professional practice as a psychologist? How would these factors affect your ability to establish rapport with and develop a multicultural diagnosis for clients of different socioeconomic statuses or classes?

For this Discussion, review this week’s Learning Resources. Consider factors related to socioeconomic status and class as they relate to establishing rapport with clients from the population you selected in Week 3. Then search the Walden Library for two articles not identified in the Learning Resources that further your understanding of socioeconomic status and class as they relate to the population you selected.

Write an explanation of the factors related to socioeconomic status and class that you need to consider when establishing rapport with clients from the population you selected. Further, describe how race, ethnicity, gender, and sexuality relate to socioeconomic status and class within that population.

Resource:

• Ballinger, L., & Wright, J. (2007). “Does class count?” Social class and counseling. Counselling and Psychotherapy Research, 7(3), 157–163.
  Retrieved from the Walden Library databases.
• Brown, S. D., & Lent, R. W. (Eds.). (2008). Handbook of counseling psychology (4th ed.). Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley & Sons, Inc.
  • Chapter 10, “Social Class and Classism: Understanding the Psychological Impact of Poverty and Inequality” (pp. 159–175)
• Lott, B. (2002). Cognitive and behavioral distancing from the poor. American Psychologist, 57(2), 100–110.
  Retrieved from the Walden Library databases.

A Sample Answer For the Assignment: Factors of Socioeconomic Status and Class in Professional Practice

Title: Factors of Socioeconomic Status and Class in Professional Practice

Counselling and Psychotherapy Research, September 2007; 7(3): 157 163 ORIGINAL ARTICLE ‘Does class count?’ Social class and counselling LIZ BALLINGER1 & JEANNIE WRIGHT2 1 School of Education, University of Manchester, Manchester, UK and 2Massey University, School of Arts Development and Health, Palmerston North, New Zealand Abstract This article explores the importance attached to social class by experienced practitioners taking part in a co-operative inquiry group. A review of the literature from the last thirty years indicates that there is very little research on class in relation to counselling and psychotherapy reported in the UK. Both authors position themselves as coming from working class origins. Nine co-researchers from both middle and working class origins joined the group. Eight meetings took place over a period of nine months. Extracts from the group’s discussions are represented and integrated with ‘presentational knowing’ drawn from contemporary culture, including poetry and popular music. This study suggests that social class is a neglected aspect of diversity in the counselling field. Implications of the study have relevance for the language of counselling and psychotherapy and class based values; social class and its impact on initial education; and ongoing counselling practice and access to therapy for working class people. Keywords: Social class, working class, middle class, co-operative inquiry, counselling and psychotherapy practice, counselling and psychotherapy training ‘Whatever people say I am, that’s what I’m not’ (Sillitoe, 1958) *Title of best-selling album by the Arctic Monkeys, 2006 Introduction ‘In the frequently incanted quartet of race, class, gender and sexual orientation, there is no doubt that class has been the least fashionable’ (Collini, 1994, p. 3). The starting-point for this inquiry was the perceived absence of research and discussion around social class issues within the counselling literature and counselling training. There are a number of potential explanations. One may be that the significance of class is dwindling. It is argued that traditional class barriers broke down on the back of large-scale social and economic change in the twentieth century. Alongside this, the rise of post-modernism invoked a reaction against such overarching notions as class (Milner, 1999). The absence may, however, reflect difficulties in defining class rather than its disappearance. Occupation is a widely-used measure and is the basis of the National Statistics Socioeconomic Classification, used for official statistics and surveys. However, other, more subjective and qualitative notions have strong currency. Class consciousness remains a feature of modern Britain (Milner, 1999). Alongside occupation, we use subjective factors such as the way people speak; where they live; their friends; the school they attended; their spending patterns; the way they dress; the car they own (Reid, 1989). Class also intersects with other aspects of a person’s ‘identity’ in terms of gender, race, sexuality and other constructs. In the US, the ‘multiple-lens’ approach to research on class is emerging (e.g. Liu, 2002). In the UK, the notion of intersectionality has been asserted as a both/and position so that race, gender, class and other dimensions of difference come into focus (Chantler, 2005). Skeggs’ (2004) sociological arguments that class division and power imbalance based on class are no longer simple economic or even culturally based phenomena draw on a wealth of empirical research. A ‘self’, in her terms, is always a ‘classed formation’. A mixture of subjective and objective measures led both authors to identify themselves as born/brought up working class in an East Midlands, UK context. These measures included father’s occupation, living in ‘council’ housing, neighbourhood, speech and educational aspirations. Both also identify themselves as having a personal and practice-based interest in social class. Correspondence: Liz Ballinger, School of Education, University of Manchester, Oxford Road, Manchester M13 9PL, UK. E-mail: [email protected] 1473-3145 (print)/1746-1405 (online) – 2007 British Association for Counselling and Psychotherapy DOI: 10.1080/14733140701571316 158 L. Ballinger & J. Wright What does this study explore? . The importance attached to social class by experienced practitioners taking part in a co-operative inquiry group For the purposes of this research, the initiators deliberately avoided defining class, wishing to explore whether, how, and on what basis experienced counselling practitioners saw self and other in class terms. Moreover, to attempt to impose a definition of class from the perspective of the various academic disciplines would fall into the trap that Alan Sillitoe’s (1958) working class character, Arthur Seaton (quoted above) derides. It would reflect the process whereby, in Marxist terms, the ideology of the ruling classes comes to dominate culturally. Also, as Skeggs (2004) establishes, the concept is complex and she suggests that class cannot be ‘made alone without all the other classifications that accompany it’ (Skeggs, 2004, p. 3) such as race, gender and sexuality. Social class and counselling We are interested in why class as a central construct in identity has been under-researched not just in counselling and psychotherapy, but also in related occupational areas/disciplines such as sociology (Skeggs, 2004), psychology (Liu, 2002) and social work (Dominelli, 2002). If we use occupational measures, the decline of class is not evident. Studies confirm its continuing significance in shaping life-style and life chances and, hence, its potential importance in the therapeutic process. Pilgrim (1991, 1992, 1997, 2006), Trevithick (1988, 1998) and Kearney (1996) comment on the lack of attention paid to the significance of social class in the world of counselling and psychotherapy. One crucial area relates to the existence of a mental health class gradient (Pilgrim, 1997). Put succinctly, the poorer you are, the more likely you are to be diagnosed with mental health problems (Cochrane, 1983). The social causation thesis posits social context as a root cause of mental health problems (Holland, 1979). Patterns of diagnosis are also cited: the greater the social gap between the labeller and the labelled, the more serious the label that is likely to be given (Horwitz, 1983; Wilkinson, 1975). Conversely, it is argued that mental ill-health can be a cause of economic hardship rather than its product, the so-called ‘social drift’ thesis (McLeod, 2003). The assumption might follow that the majority of counselling clients would be working-class. The limited available UK research demonstrates this is not the case (Bromley, 1983; Crouan, 1994). Factors are cited such as working class antagonism towards therapy (Trevithick, 1988); therapist elitism (Pilgrim, 1997); class-based referral patterns (Bromley, 1983; McLeod, 2003); and financial barriers to access (McLeod, 2003). There has been no significant research into the complexity of factors that might be involved in access issues. Similarly there has been little research into the experiences of working class clients and how perceived differences in social class between counsellor and client affect the therapeutic relationship. Proctor (2002) and Spong and Hollanders (2003) have commented on the lack of attention paid to the dynamics of social power within the counselling relationship. Balmforth (2006) highlights the potential for disempowerment when a middle class counsellor works with a working-class client. Communication can be hampered by the use of different language systems and codes (Kearney, 1996). Differing world-views and class-based experiences may obstruct the development of empathy (McLeod, 2003). The impact of the social context on the individual’s ability to choose and maintain a sense of their own agency can be neglected (Pilgrim, 1992; Trevithick, 1988). One important recorded piece of action research is that of Holland (1979). She details her involvement in the development of The Battersea Action and Counselling Centre, set up on the understanding that ‘the root cause of mental problems was to be found in the interaction between interpersonal relationships and the social context in which they occurred’ (Holland, 1979, p. 96). Methodology and ethical issues Co-operative inquiry was the chosen methodology. The broad starting-point was the question ‘Does class count?’ Co-operative inquiry is a way of working with other people who have similar concerns and interests to yourself, in order to: . understand your world, make sense of your life and develop new and creative ways of looking at things . learn how to act to change things you may want to change and find out how to do things better (Heron & Reason, 2001, p. 179) Sometimes referred to as human, participatory and collaborative as well as co-operative inquiry, this methodology fits within ‘new paradigm’ research. It is characterised by participation; all those involved are co-researchers, invited to join in the co-creation of knowledge about themselves (Heron & Reason, 2006). ‘A key feature of such a group is that the details of what is researched and how it is researched are decided by the group rather than by the researcher alone’ (West, 1996, p. 347). This was congruent with the initiators’ person-centred philosophy as well as with their desire to be involved in a research process that incorporated a ‘whole-person approach’ (West, 1996, p. 348). Three different forms of knowledge are explored and developed in co-operative inquiry: experiential, practical and propositional (Reason, 1994). Social class and counselling 159 In their up-dating and overview of paradigmatic controversies and convergences in qualitative research, Guba & Lincoln (2005) agree with Heron and Reason (2001) that participatory or co-operative inquiry stands alone. Sound participatory inquiry is judged in part by: ‘Congruence of experiential, propositional and practical knowing’ and essentially, the inquiry is linked to action, ‘. . . to transform the world in the service of human flourishing’ (Lincoln & Guba, 2005, p. 196). Ethically, co-operative inquiry ‘tilts towards revelation’ (Guba & Lincoln, 2005, p. 196) with different issues emerging as the inquiry progresses. As West (1996) points out, close parallels can be drawn between inquiry groups, personal development groups and counselling groups. As such, complex ethical questions can be raised, which is one reason it is rarely used in research with clients but is more likely to be found in studies with other practitioners and colleagues (McLeod, 2001). The inquiry The inquiry took place over the course of nine months, involving nine co-researchers and eight meetings. The inquiry was initiated by Liz Ballinger and Richard Saxton, both experienced counsellors with a declared interest in social class. A number of considerations shaped the way the group was enlisted. The group size needed to be limited in order to work effectively. Participants needed to be willing and able to meet together over an extended period. Informed consent required the provision of a large amount of information about the research process, given the high level of commitment asked of group members. The initiators opted to circulate written invitations to counsellors within the East Midlands. This was done opportunistically. Colleagues were asked to pass on invitations to interested parties and they were also distributed at local meetings of counsellors. In total, 25 invitations were sent out. Interested counsellors were invited to two introductory meetings to receive information about the research method as a basis for deciding whether and on what basis they wished to be involved. In total, 11 counsellors attended introductory meetings with nine counsellors electing to participate in the inquiry proper. Co-operative inquiry is a cyclical process. Of the six meetings that followed, three fell into the ‘project’ and ‘encounter’ phases and three into the ‘making sense’ and ‘communication’ phases of the cycle described by Rowan (1981). The project and encounter phases involve the group coming together to develop and then engage in agreed action plans. These meetings were recorded on audio-tape. The ‘making sense’ and ‘communication’ phases involve reflection on these experiences and the communication of learning from them. In these latter phases, three members assumed the major responsibility for the transcribing of the tapes, the identification of themes and the circulation of these within the group for agreement, amendment and addition. Thus the findings of the group were a product of cooperative endeavour. Findings Heron and Reason (2001) refer to critical subjectivity as personal, living knowledge saved from ‘self-delusion’ by critical reflection in collaboration with others who share similar concerns and interests. The expressions of ‘critical subjectivity’ that emerged from the co-operative inquiry were collected into twenty agreed statements and are here illustrated by quotes from individual participants. Some of the statements were comments on the processes that had characterised the inquiry; others were distillations of the content of the group’s explorations. They are presented here under a range of headings and linked to references from wider literature and/or differing cultural reference points. In keeping with ‘presentational knowing’ (Heron, 1996; Reason & Bradbury, 2006) using expressive forms, this study was presented at conferences using contemporary cultural frameworks, such as popular music, the media and some ‘multiple lens’ views. We have retained these expressive forms in this article. Visibility of class in counselling and counselling training 1. We had a very strong desire to talk about our experience of class and were aware that this was largely absent from our training and therapy: ‘I feel pissed off class is not talked about in counselling circles. It feels like hard work getting it up and moving each time  needs cranking up.’ ‘And yet I feel I’ve found out so much more about people since we’ve started focussing on class. By ignoring class we’re ignoring huge bits.’ These comments resonate with Kearney’s observations. ‘. . . I will argue that the issue of class is almost never referred to in counselling at any level *in training courses, in training manuals or in books about counselling and I believe our failure to take account of class really matters.’ (Kearney, 1996, p. 9) The subjective experience of class 2. We focused on our subjective experience of class and all had our own very personal angle on it. 3. Our own assessment of another’s class was not uncommonly different to their assessment of their class. 4. As we grew up we were aware of hierarchical differences within classes . . . of being above and below people in the same class: 160 L. Ballinger & J. Wright ‘So mine is where I was brought up and everything in it *the environment, the people, and also I suppose I’d link in unemployment.’ ‘I was lower working class. I thought people were posh who were probably working class.’ Rattigan’s descriptions of his client’s reactions to him in class terms chime with the subjectivity of such statements. ‘A special feature of many early sessions was the verbal attacks on my Samsonite bag as the embodiment of bourgeois, white society. He speaks of the bag and of his phantasies of my home with withering tones of derision. My home, in his phantasy, is wall-papered and upholstered by Laura Ashley and furnished from IKEA.’ (Rattigan, 1995, p. 178) Class and identity 5. We had strong emotional responses to class. 6. Our parents’ emotional response to their class shaped our own emotional response to our class. 7. Some of us had a sense of our class identity shifting according to the context we were in. 8. We experienced education as a key class issue, with education and class inextricably linked: ‘My mother was ashamed at being the poor one in the family. That gave me an emotional imperative to be proud of my class background.’ ‘Going to university was above my station. I remember feeling fear, inferior, not belonging. I was waiting to be found out.’ ‘It’s part of me, either like it or lump it type of feeling.’ The emotional tone of these reactions is echoed in this poem: ‘I swear it to you I swear it to you on my common woman’s head This common woman is as common As a common loaf of bread And will rise’ (Anon. Cited in Trevithick, 1988, p. 79) Class and mobility 9. We had clear but differing ideas about whether or not it was possible to change class. 10. Some of us had a sense of shifting class over time. 11. We had strong emotional responses to changing class and the idea of changing class. ‘If class isn’t an issue for me, why have I changed my class position so wilfully?’ ‘When I was a kid with my dad in London . . . He said we could go to Harrods, buy a suit and sit in the Grosvenor Hotel and they’d kick you out like that . . .’ Steedman (1986) writes of such issues, linking autobiography, psychoanalysis, feminism, history and politics: ‘My mother’s longing shaped my own childhood. From a Lancashire mill town and a working-class twenties childhood she came away wanting: fine clothes, glamour, money; to be what she wasn’t.’ (Steedman, 1986, p. 6) Class, language and accent 12. For some of us there was a strong connection between class and language. Factors such as language used and regional accent affected our reactions to people and our perception of them. ‘I enjoyed working with a very working class client *something to do with her language. It was like working with my auntie.’ ‘. . . my parents never wanted us to have Birmingham accents . . . I don’t know whether they consciously said ‘clarse’ ‘grarse’ but it was definitely something not to do . . .’ The actor Tom Courtenay’s memoirs focus on his reactions to his working-class father’s use of speech: ‘I felt for him when he was self-conscious in front of people he thought were his betters. He would try and speak more correctly than was natural for him. Aitches would fly all over the place and ‘ings’ would crop up when only ‘in’s were required. Then I would think to myself, ‘‘You shouldn’t have to bother, Dad, they’re not better than you. They may not be as good as you’’’ (Courtenay, 2000, p. 292) Access to counselling and training 13. We saw financial, educational and emotional barriers to working class people becoming trained and accredited counsellors. 14. We identified barriers to working class access to counselling. ‘A working class obstacle is that it’s a sign of weakness.’ ‘As a client it would really matter what came out of my counsellor’s mouth *the accent, the words . . .’ ‘You need money to train as a counsellor.’ Jackie Kay, a black Scots writer, satirises the therapy industry. She uses Maw Broon, a character from the long-running cartoon strip in the Sunday Post imagining how a working class woman, a caricature, would take to the ‘talking therapies’: Social class and counselling 161 ‘. . . Here *A’m quite guid at this therapy lark eh? Here, Maw Broon could be a therapist. Sit there like you are, glaikit, A box o tissues and a clock, A few wee emmms and aaas. Jings, it’s money for auld rope.’ (Kay, 1998, p. 47) Counselling, class and politics 15. We had strong and, at times, differing ideas about the relationship between counselling, class and politics. 16. Some of us thought that the link between class and income had repercussions for counselling practice. 17. Some of us thought there might be a correlation between class background and theoretical approach. 18. Some of us experienced a class-like hierarchy in terms of the status accorded to different theoretical approaches: ‘Listening is a political act *listening to the unlistened to.’ ‘I can get really cynical about the middle classes unloading their guilt by working for voluntary agencies and failing to see the social context of problems.’ ‘In the class system, the skilled labourer is above the labourer but well below the architect. Is being person-centred the equivalent of being a brickie, the architect the psychoanalytic practitioner?’ Statements such as these link in to Pilgrim’s questioning of therapy: ‘. . . Another example might be that a fee paying client’s reluctance to pay may be interpreted within the transference, but without reference to their relative poverty or the socio-political debates about taking money from people in distress.’ (Pilgrim, 1991, p. 52) The function of class 19. We saw class forming important boundaries for the individual and society. 20. Some of us sensed a link between class and biological survival instincts. ‘The tendency to pair with people from the same class fits with biological survival.’ ‘Is it animalistic *the pecking order?’ Jarvis Cocker’s 1995 hugely popular anthem ‘Common People’ deals directly with such themes: ‘Laugh along with the common people Laugh along even though they’re laughing at you And the stupid things they make you do Because you think that poor is cool Like a dog lying in a corner They will bite you and never warn you, look out They’ll tear your insides out ‘Cos every body hates a tourist Especially one who thinks it all such a laugh’ Reflections on the inquiry ‘In human inquiry it is better to be approximately right than precisely wrong. It is also better to initiate and conduct inquiry into important questions of human conduct with a degree of acknowledged bias and imprecision, than to bog the whole thing down in attempts to be prematurely ‘‘correct’’ or ‘‘accurate’’.’ (Reason, 1988, p. 229) The findings of the inquiry need, thus, to be viewed in the light of the researchers’ stance. The inquiry was initiated by two counsellors with an acknowledged belief in the importance of social class. Invitations were targeted at counsellors who might be interested in exploring the significance of social class. There proved to be a majority of humanistic practitioners. Black or Asian counsellors were absent. There also emerged a class pattern in the group. Six of the nine participants identified themselves as of working class origin. Interestingly, five participants identified themselves as having moved classes and as having some ambivalence around this shift. Implications Bearing in mind these boundaries, some propositions from the inquiry can be summed up thus: . Class is a highly significant yet under explored and under acknowledged issue within counselling. . Energy for its exploration seems to come from counsellors with some working-class affinities. . Social class can be an important constituent of personal identity as well as an important influence in interpersonal relating. This would be as true for clients as counsellors. . The question of access to therapy and counselling training contains significant class issues. Equality of access is an important ingredient of ‘a power-sensitive approach to counselling’ (Spong & Hollanders, 2003, p. 221). This has a number of strands. The social basis of recruitment onto counselling training programmes needs to be further re- 162 L. Ballinger & J. Wright What does this study tell us? . Social class is a neglected aspect of diversity in the counselling field . Class has relevance for the language of counselling and psychotherapy; . For class based values; . For social class and its impact on initial education; . For ongoing counselling practice and access to therapy for working class people searched and addressed. Class awareness needs to be incorporated into training programmes, touching on areas such as language, class-based value systems, mental health issues, stereotyping, prejudice and power issues. The differing ways we incorporate class into our sense of ourselves and others is another potentially rich avenue for research. One result of the cooperative inquiry was that the authors ran workshops on social class with students in counselling training. Initial results of on-going research indicate to us that such awareness training does have impact, stimulating the development of more socially aware practitioners. Some approaches to counselling are more aware of the social and political than others; feminist and narrative models, influenced by social constructionism have tended to be in the forefront of challenging an ‘inner world’ view, raising issues of social and structural inequality (Bird, 2000). Recent critical debates within humanistic approaches (Proctor, 2002) are challenging the traditional tensions between individual and social change presenting a call to social action (Proctor et al., 2006). The study outlined here highlights the complexity and, at times, ‘embarrassment’ of talking about class differences. Hopefully, those barriers will not be enough to stop this work continuing. Acknowledgements With special thanks to Richard Saxton of Sheffield Hallam University, to the participants of the cooperative inquiry and to Bloodaxe Books for permission to reproduce stanzas from Jackie Kay’s poem ‘Maw Broon Visits a Therapist.’ References Balmforth, J. (2006). 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Sillitoe, A. (1958). Saturday Night and Sunday Morning. Cheltenham: Stanley Thornes. Skeggs, B. (2004). Class, Self, Culture. London: Routledge. Skeggs, B. (1997). Formations of Class and Gender. London: Sage. Spong, S., & Hollanders, H. (2003). Cognitive therapy and social power. Counselling and Psychotherapy Research, 3, 216 222. Social class and counselling 163 Steedman, C. (1986). Landscape for a Good Woman: A Story of Two Lives. London: Virago. Trevithick, P. (1988). Unconsciousness raising with working-class women, In S. Krzowski & P. Land (Eds), In Our Experience: Workshops at the Women’s Therapy Centre. London: The Women’s Press. Trevithick, P. (1998). Psychotherapy and Working-Class Women. In I. Bruna Seu & M. Colleen Heenam (Eds.), Feminism & Psychotherapy: Reflections on Contemporary Theories and Practices. London: Sage. West, W. (1996). Using human inquiry groups in counselling research. British Journal of Guidance and Counselling, 24, 347 355. Wilkinson, G. (1975). Patient audience, social status and the social construction of psychiatric disorder. Journal of Health and Social Behaviour, 16, 28 38. Cognitive and Behavioral Distancing From the Poor This document is copyrighted by the American Psychological Association or one of its allied publishers. This article is intended solely for the personal use of the individual user and is not to be disseminated broadly. Bernice Lott University of Rhode Island The author argues that distancing is the dominant response to poor people on the part of those who are not poor and that distancing, separation, exclusion, and devaluing operationally define discrimination. Such responses, together with stereotypes and prejudice, define classism. The article focuses on classism in the United States. Classism is examined in the context of theoretical propositions about the moral exclusion of stigmatized others and is illustrated by cognitive distancing, institutional distancing (in education, housing, health care, legal assistance, politics, and public policy), and interpersonal distancing. The adoption of the Resolution on Poverty and Socioeconomic Status by the American Psychological Association Council of Representatives in August 2000 is cited as an important step in the direction of eliminating the invisibility of low-income persons in psychological research and theory. T his article is about classism in the United States and examines particularly responses to poor people and poverty by those who are not poor. I propose that a dominant response is that of distancing, that is, separation, exclusion, devaluation, discounting, and designation as “other,” and that this response can be identified in both institutional and interpersonal contexts. In social psychological terms, distancing and denigrating responses operationally define discrimination. These, together with stereotypes (i.e., a set of beliefs about a group that are learned early, widely shared, and socially validated) and prejudice (i.e., negative attitudes) constitute classism. My objective in this article is to encourage an examination of how psychologists and psychology collude with others in maintaining classism. I hope this article, which focuses on the general manifestations of classism in the United States, can serve as a starting point for such an examination. Illustrations of distancing responses to the poor in institutional and interpersonal contexts, taken from an interdisciplinary literature, are presented in the context of relevant theoretical propositions to provide background and encouragement for more specific discussions in psychology’s various academic, research, and clinical settings. The work of researchers, teachers, and practitioners will surely be enriched and increased in validity by knowledge of the social class contexts of people’s lives. But although social class distinctions in general have significant consequences for everyone, the focus here is on poor people’s lives, because it is their treatment as other that has the most widespread consequences for society as a whole. Psychologists committed to social justice must carefully 100 document and analyze the barriers erected by classist bias that maintain inequities and impede access to the resources necessary for optimal health and welfare. Further, for psychologists to be maximally effective in their theories, research, and practice, such an examination needs to be followed by serious discussion of the role they might play in the reduction or elimination of classist discrimination. The magnitude of economic disparities in the United States has taken on crisis proportions. Other articles (Bullock & Lott, 2001; Lott & Bullock, 2001b) have documented the dramatic and increasing inequity in economic resources between the rich and the poor in the United States. For example, the Center on Budget and Policy Priorities (Shapiro, Greenstein, & Primus, 2001) reported that between 1979 and 1997, the after-tax income of the poorest fifth of U.S. households decreased from $10,900 to $10,800, while that of the top 1% of households increased from $263,700 to $677,900. With respect to childhood poverty, the latest Census Bureau figures are roughly the same today as they were in 1979: Over 12 million children— one in six—live in poverty. Thus, “compared to the rest of the industrialized world, this country remains at the bottom of the heap” (Sengupta, 2001, p. WK3). For families of single working mothers, the poverty rate is 19.4%, the same in 1999 as it was in 1995 (“Single Mothers,” 2001). The American Psychological Association (APA) has taken a bold first step in recognizing the relationship of such data to the work of psychologists by adopting the Resolution on Poverty and Socioeconomic Status (APA, 2000). This well-referenced resolution ends with the promise of advocacy for research, education, training, and public policy in the interest of low-income members of the national community. It is hoped that this resolution will make a difference, but as Brown (1990) noted earlier, by generally accepting the assumption that U.S. society is classless, psychologists in science and practice have made invisible those who are not middle class. Reid (1993), too, has called attention to psychology’s exclusion and silencing of those Editor’s note. Heather Bullock served as action editor for this article. Author’s note. Portions of this article were read at the National Multicultural Conference and Summit II, Santa Barbara, California, on January 25, 2001, as part of the panel in the session entitled “Social Class, Poverty, and Affluence,” and at a Psychology Department colloquium at the University of California, Santa Cruz, on January 30, 2001. Correspondence concerning this article should be addressed to Bernice Lott, Department of Psychology, Woodward 10, University of Rhode Island, Kingston, RI 02881. E-mail: [email protected] February 2002 ● American Psychologist Copyright 2002 by the American Psychological Association, Inc. 0003-066X/02/$5.00 Vol. 57, No. 2, 100 –110 DOI: 10.1037//0003-066X.57.2.100 This document is copyrighted by the American Psychological Association or one of its allied publishers. This article is intended solely for the personal use of the individual user and is not to be disseminated broadly. Bernice Lott outside the White middle class and to its relative lack of interest in “lives different from our own” (Reid, 1993, p. 134). A more recent search of the literature (Saris & Johnston-Robledo, 2000) revealed again “a dearth of literature on poor women” (p. 235). When national attention was finally given to violence against women in the United States, an analysis by Richie (2000) suggested that public sympathy for victims and survivors and a concern with their needs were largely focused on those who were not poor and not minorities of color. The White middle-class woman “consumed the greater proportion of attention in the literature . . . she was featured in public awareness campaigns, and she was represented by national leaders” (Richie, 2000, p. 1135). The near invisibility of the poor in psychology as well as psychologists’ lack of attention to social class in general continues even when there is a direct focus on multiculturalism and diversity. For example, at the first multicultural summit sponsored by APA in 1999, poverty and social class were rarely mentioned. Announcements for the Public Interest Directorate’s miniconvention, entitled “Valuing Diversity,” at APA’s 108th Annual Convention in August 2000 also omitted mention of social class (APA, n.d.-a). The printed announcement for the second multicultural conference, held in 2001, described it as a summit dealing with “race/ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation, and disability” (APA, n.d.-b). And the most recent announcement, for the third multicultural conference (APA, n.d.-c), entitled “Celebrating Our Children, Families, and Seniors,” once again ignores social class, mentioning only race, ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation, and disability in the call for papers. It is now widely accepted that social categories like gender and ethnicity intersect and that these intersections require study as psychologists examine each February 2002 ● American Psychologist category. Social class functions similarly in interaction with other social categories and as a distinct construct. The glaring omission of social class in considerations of multicultural issues illustrates certain realities about the discipline of psychology. Psychological theories are preoccupied with people who are like those who construct the theories, that is, those in the middle class (and primarily European Americans). As just one recent example, Arnett (2000), in developing a theory about emerging adulthood in young people in their late teens through the 20s, talked about this period in industrialized societies as one of “independent role exploration” (p.478). Like other theorists, Arnett focused on the middle class. Unlike others, however, he did note that his characterization was not likely to be true for the millions of working-class youth who do not attend college right after high school and who constitute the forgotten half in psychological research and theory. In trying to understand this phenomenon, I came to the following realization. Although those who are middle class or affluent can experience the negative consequences of racism, sexism, ageism, and heterosexism or the stigma and exclusion associated with a disability, they do not personally experience the stigma and exclusion associated with being poor. A sizable minority within the discipline of psychology may come from a low-income or working-class background, but it is clearly not a salient feature of their current lives. Theoretical Concepts and Context Categorization of groups of people into upper and lower strata, into superior and inferior, is done by those who require such categorization to maintain their power, prevent others from obtaining an equal share of resources, and sustain the myth of superiority (Williams, 1993). Thus, classism results from unequal “class privilege (i.e., unearned advantage and conferred dominance) and power” (Moon & Rolison, 1998, p. 132). Power, defined as access to resources, enables the group with greatest access to set the rules, frame the discourse, and name and describe those with less power. Members of high-power groups will be more able than those in low-power groups to maintain their power as they receive its benefits and increase their ability to maneuver within the society they control. As Unger (2000) has noted, “Those who have the power to define the acceptable qualities of others benefit from their ability to label” (p. 166). And Sidanius and Pratto (1999) presented data and a convincing argument to support the conclusion that “it is power . . . that enables one to discriminate” (p. 19). People in the United States have invented labels to designate the poor both directly and indirectly. The words racial minority and inner city are often used as codes for low income, and it has been argued that rural poor Whites are also “racialized” as “a breed apart, a dysgenic race unto themselves” (Wray & Newitz, 1997, p. 2). Sweeney (1997) noted that “White Trash . . . are defined by their proximity . . . to Blacks; in housing projects, in sharecroppers’ shacks, on chaingangs” (p. 251). When White middle-class people use the term White trash, they are talking about 101 This document is copyrighted by the American Psychological Association or one of its allied publishers. This article is intended solely for the personal use of the individual user and is not to be disseminated broadly. “them,” not “us,” and are saying “We are not that” (Hartigan, 1997, p. 51). Derogatory terms, meant to be amusing, have been invented for these others: crackers from Georgia and Florida, lintheads from the Carolinas, okies from the west, and hillbillies or ridge runners from West Virginia. The related theoretical constructs of moral exclusion and delegitimization have been introduced in the effort to explain the atrocious and inhumane treatment of stigmatized people by those in power. Opotow (1990) argued that “those who are morally excluded are perceived as nonentities, expendable, or undeserving; consequently harming them appears acceptable, appropriate, or just” (p. 1). BarTal (1990) proposed that categorizing members of certain groups as having unacceptable values or norms serves to permit or justify excluding them, dehumanizing them, and treating them as outcasts. Moral exclusion can take many forms. For example, some assume that certain emotions that are not shared with other animals, which are referred to as secondary emotions and include guilt, embarrassment, delight, disillusion, and sensitivity, are not experienced among members of outgroups. Leyens et al. (2000) presented evidence that individuals “regard out-groups as in some ways less human” (p. 194) or deficient in “the human essence” (p. 195), thereby making discrimination easier, more rational, and even necessary. When people dehumanize others, they are not likely to experience empathy. Thus, those who dehumanize other people can more easily behave in ways that run counter to such supposedly human values as sympathy and compassion (Schwartz & Struch, 1989). Examples of moral exclusion are, sadly, numerous across historical periods, places, and circumstances, and the harm done to those designated as other ranges from direct and overt damage to the results of disregard and inaction. As Opotow (1990) has noted, “Moral exclusion can occur in degrees, from overt evil to passive unconcern” (p. 13). Within such a theoretical framework, it can be argued, as Fine and Weis (2000) have done, that “today. . . working-class and poor women (and men) have been tossed from our collective moral community” (p. 1140). Treating poor people as other and lesser than oneself is central to the concept and practice of classism. Through cognitive distancing and institutional and interpersonal discrimination, the nonpoor succeed in separating from the poor and in excluding, discounting, discrediting, and disenabling them. Cognitive Distancing Although psychologists distance themselves and the discipline from the poor by generally ignoring social class as a significant variable in research and theory, cognitive distancing more typically takes the form of stereotyping. The dominant images of poor people in the United States include negative beliefs about their characteristics, negative expectations about their behavior, and the attribution that their poverty is caused by their own failings. Middle-class people tend to respond to issues about poverty with ignorance, because they are largely insulated from and do not know poor people. As noted by Berrick 102 (1995), the two groups “shop in different stores, travel on different streets, . . . eat in different restaurants, and their children [often] attend different . . . schools” (p. 3). The mass media tend to reinforce this ignorance. A review of media images of the poor by Bullock and her colleagues (Bullock, Wyche, & Williams, 2001) found that, for the most part, the poor are either not presented at all or portrayed as outsiders who are deficient in character or morality. Stereotypes about the poor abound and appear to be communicated with little hesitancy or embarrassment by those who ascribe to them, including members of Congress and state legislators who shape public policy. For example, an analysis of congressional hearings on The Family Support Act of 1988 by Naples (1997) revealed a view of poor women, in particular, as in “need [of] sanctions and other coercive behavioral measures to ensure their cooperation in moving from welfare to work” (p. 917). In 1996, this was a dominant theme in the enthusiastic support for the insultingly worded Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Reconciliation Act championed by both major political parties. One study (Beck, Whitley, & Wolk, 1999) examined the beliefs of members of the Georgia General Assembly, which, like all state legislatures, is now given block grants by the federal government to use in assisting poor people for limited time periods (no longer than two consecutive years, and five years over a lifetime). What the investigators found was “consensus . . . that the poor do exhibit behaviors that . . . perpetuate their poverty. These behaviors include a lack of effort, ambition, thrift, talent and morals” (Beck et al., 1999, p. 98) and low intelligence. A sizable literature on the subject of beliefs about the poor and poverty is found primarily within sociology and social work. As summarized by Bullock (1995), research indicates that, in general, “the poor are perceived as failing to seize opportunities because they lack diligence and initiative . . . . Poor people and welfare recipients are typically characterized as dishonest, dependent, lazy, uninterested in education, and promiscuous” (p. 125). By and large, the research literature supports the conclusion of Halpern (1993) that the tendency in the United States is to see poverty as an individual problem and to be preoccupied “with poor people’s behavior, rather than the social and economic arrangements that perpetuate poverty, inequality, and social exclusion” (p. 160). One example comes from a study by Fiske and her colleagues (Fiske, Xu, Cuddy, & Glick, 1999) in which respondents made judgments about 17 groups often stereotyped in the United States. Welfare recipients were found to be the only group that was both disliked and disrespected and whose members were perceived to lack both warmth and competence. Researchers conducting a recent investigation with a midwestern college sample compared beliefs about poor people with beliefs about members of the middle class (Cozzarelli, Wilkinson, & Tagler, 2001). Respondents endorsed significantly more of the negative traits they were asked to respond to as being true of the poor than of the middle class. These negative descriptors included uneducated, unmotivated, lazy, unpleasant, angry, stupid, dirty, February 2002 ● American Psychologist This document is copyrighted by the American Psychological Association or one of its allied publishers. This article is intended solely for the personal use of the individual user and is not to be disseminated broadly. immoral, criminal, alcoholic, abusive, and violent. Similarly, when a sample of college students in another study (Hoyt, 1999) was asked to list common stereotypes for lower-class (the study’s terminology) and middle-class people, the most frequently listed traits for the former were uneducated, lazy, dirty, drug/alcohol user, and criminal. In two studies (Lott & Saxon, in press) in which respondents made judgments about hypothetical target women, social class was found to be a powerful trigger for expectations. Whether presented as a potential parent– teacher organization (PTO) vice president in her children’s school or as a possible girlfriend for the respondent’s older brother or cousin, a working-class woman was judged to be more crude and more irresponsible than was a middle-class woman. In the PTO context, working-class women were also judged to be more unsuitable for the job of vice president. And Jacob (2000) found that a sample of African American women and men described a hypothetical lowincome woman as being less intelligent than a higherincome woman. The cognitive responses of middle-class children to poor people and poverty have been found to mirror those of adults. A review by Chafel (1997) of two decades of relevant national studies found a remarkable similarity in the thinking of adults and children . . . . [B]oth view economic privation as a self-inflicted condition, emanating more from personal factors (e.g., effort, ability) than external–structural ones (e.g., an unfavorable labor market, racism). Poverty is seen as inevitable, necessary, and just. (p. 434) Adults consistently view the poor as “morally deficient and personally responsible for their plight” (Chafel, 1997, p. 438), and, with age, children come more and more to accept the status quo and to view poverty as adults do, that is, “as emanating from individual differences in merit” (Chafel, 1997, p. 456). Weinger (1998) showed a sample of low-income White and Black children photos of two houses, one rundown and one a suburban ranch-style residence, and asked them to respond to questions about the people they thought might live in each. Responses were analyzed thematically, and the investigator concluded that the children expected others to describe members of the poor household as “messy, dirty, stupid, crazy, ugly, nasty, disgusting, not good people, doing drugs, not taking care of their family, mean, troublemakers, cruel, unkind” (Weinger, 1998, p. 108). Although these low-income children perceived the nonpoor as scorning the poor, they did not share the negative beliefs. Instead, “they described poor people straightforwardly as in need of resources: ‘They need money, they need paint, . . . [and] a job’” (Weinger, 1998, p. 112). Some research has found differences among groups in the degree to which they hold negative beliefs about the poor. For example, from national survey data across several decades, Clydesdale (1999) concluded that “Americans with high social statuses, whether economic, occupational, or educational, are more likely to view the poor unfavorably” (p. 103). Those found to be most in favor of government efforts to eradicate poverty were non-White responFebruary 2002 ● American Psychologist dents and low-income respondents, whereas political conservatives were least supportive of such efforts. That conservatives tend to see poverty in individualistic terms, that is, as failures of personal initiative, has been found by others (Zucker & Weiner, 1993). In another study, business students were found to have more negative beliefs about the poor than did undergraduates majoring in social work or sociology (Atherton, Gemmel, Haagenstad, & Holt, 1993). In an important finding, a phone survey revealed that respondents who had personal contact with the poor were less likely than others to blame them for their circumstances (Wilson, 1996). It is also of interest that beliefs about low-income people may vary as a function of their ethnicity and the ethnicity of respondents. Jacob’s (2000) sample of African American adults described a White target woman earning $12,000 a year as lazy and ugly but described an African American woman with the same earnings as frustrated, determined, and stressed. A telephone interview study of a large sample of adults in southern California (Hunt, 1996) found that Blacks and Latinos are more likely than Whites to attribute poverty to such societal factors as low wages, poor schools, and prejudice. And, not surprisingly, poor people are more likely to favor structural explanations for poverty than are middle-class people (Bullock, 1999). At the same time, however, Bullock found that the low-income women she studied were eager to distance themselves from the others on welfare by talking about how the others cheated and did not work hard enough to leave the welfare system. Similarly, an interview study of a sample of mothers receiving public assistance in Florida (Seccombe, James, & Walters, 1998) also found that both Black and White respondents tended to distance themselves from others on welfare. They “distinguished between ‘me’ and ‘them’ . . . [pointing out] that, unlike other poor women, they were on welfare through no fault of their own” (pp. 856 – 857). Although subscribing to the dominant constructions of women on welfare, the respondents evaluated their own circumstances quite differently. Although cognitive responses to the poor are typically measured by survey methods, experimental techniques have also yielded data supporting the proposition that distancing is a dominant middle-class reaction to low-income people. Darley and Gross (1983) had college students watch a videotape of a fourth-grade girl taking an oral achievement test. Cues about her social class were conveyed visually by the child’s clothes and the playground in the background and by verbal information about her parents’ occupations and education. Social class cues were varied, but observers always saw the same child and the same test performance. Viewers who were led to believe that the girl came from a low-income home judged that her test performance indicated a substantially lower level of ability than did those who were led to believe that she had a high socioeconomic background. In a replication with some variations, Baron, Albright, and Malloy (1995) found that, in two studies, participants who had no performance 103 This document is copyrighted by the American Psychological Association or one of its allied publishers. This article is intended solely for the personal use of the individual user and is not to be disseminated broadly. information rated the low-socioeconomic status target girl as lower in ability than the high-socioeconomic status girl. Using a vignette approach, Kirby (1999) gave a sample of college students information about potential neighbors who were considering the purchase of homes near them. These potential neighbors were described as differing in source of income. Those described as receiving public assistance were “always rated worse and objected to more than either those with some inherited income or those earning all of their income” (Kirby, 1999, p. 1503). These results were replicated in a study in which homeowners served as respondents. In both cases, there was strong evidence of “prejudice based on economic class” (Kirby, 1999, p. 1508). In another vignette study, Phelan, Link, Moore, and Stueve (1997) asked telephone respondents how willing they were to hire a hypothetical 30-year-old man for odd jobs, for him to live in their community, for him to be a close friend, and for him to work at some job in their local school. When he was described as homeless, respondents expressed significantly greater social distance than when he was described as living in a small apartment. Institutional Distancing Institutional distancing, exclusion, or discrimination may be deliberate and obvious or it may be subtle and indirect. Regardless of its form or the extent to which people are aware of it, institutional discrimination punishes members of low-status groups by erecting barriers to full societal participation. These groups, as noted by Moon and Rolison (1998), are either invisible, like janitors and maids or other “nonpersons” and not worthy of recognition, or hypervisible “as symbols of ridicule (e.g., ‘rednecks,’ poor ‘White trash’), disdain (e.g., welfare recipients), and/or fear (e.g., the underclass, gangs)” (p. 129). Sidanius and Pratto (1999) described institutional discrimination as the way that . . . schools, businesses, and government bureaucracies disproportionately allocate positive social value (e.g., high social status, good health care, good housing) to dominants and disproportionately allocate negative social value (low social status, poor housing, long prison sentences, . . . and executions) to subordinates. (p. 127) What follows are some brief examples of ways and contexts in which institutional distancing from low-income persons is accomplished now in the United States. Education The system of public education in the United States, financed primarily by community property taxes, has resulted in a two-tiered institution: One tier is well-equipped and maintained and serves mostly suburban, middle-class children, and another contains run-down and decaying schools in which there is generally a lack of everything but problems. Much has been written about this dramatic and dismal example of classism, but it remains a revealing and continuing feature of American life. As noted by Books (1998), “Even as some students receive a world-class education, others are ghettoized and forgotten in rundown, 104 markedly segregated, and often dangerous and overcrowded schools” (p. xxii). The U.S. Department of Education recently examined how federal dollars in six different programs were being used in the public schools and reported (cf. Wong, 2000) that in schools with the most disadvantaged students, teachers aides rather than qualified teachers were being hired and paid with the federal money. Half of the instructors supported by special programs designed to help poor children were teachers aides, among whom only 19% had a bachelor’s degree; this figure was 10% in the schools with the highest poverty rate. Forty-one percent of the teachers aides reported that half the time they were teaching students on their own, with no supervision. In addition, the report noted that low-poverty schools were gaining more access than high-poverty schools to federally funded computer technology. Fine (1990) studied three urban high schools in three different eastern states in an effort to understand the motives of students who dropped out and the community response to this problem. At one high school, students not doing well academically “were viewed as inferior and perceptually transformed into a threat to the well-being [of the other students]” (Fine, 1990, p. 116). It is not surprising, then, to learn that two thirds of the entering students left school before graduating and that these students were from low-income families and were minorities of color. Fine argued that if two thirds of the students in a White, middle-class school dropped out before graduation, the community would be outraged and would not accept the rationalizations offered. At another school, the “threat” to middle-class students was seen to come from those with torn clothes, and keeping elite children away from them was seen as desirable. Fine concluded that the schools were teaching “these young women and men to see public exclusion as natural, justifiable, and perhaps even necessary for the public good” (p. 118). One investigator (Luttrell, 1997) solicited life stories from low-income women in adult education classes in both an urban and a rural community. In reflecting on their public school experiences, the women talked about having been “degraded by teachers and school officials for their speech, styles of dress, deportment, physical appearance, skin color, and forms of knowledge” (Luttrell, 1997, p. 114). They remembered being treated with disdain and disrespect, looked down on, and given little encouragement. Such experiences have been discussed by others and validated in many studies. For example, Schultz (1999) interviewed a small sample of girls in their senior year at a comprehensive urban high school in northern California. These girls were survivors of an inhospitable educational system and were making it to graduation, but their stories provided many examples of how school personnel had responded to them with narrow and limited conceptions of who they were and what they were capable of becoming. It has been argued that inequity in the schools is not accidental and that schools simply “reproduce the social organization of inequality” (Smith, 2000, p. 1149) that exists in other institutions. Thus, some students learn that February 2002 ● American Psychologist This document is copyrighted by the American Psychological Association or one of its allied publishers. This article is intended solely for the personal use of the individual user and is not to be disseminated broadly. their voices will be heard, that they count, and that they will be recognized. whereas other students learn the opposite lesson, reinforcing their general experience of exclusion from the world of mainstream expectations and achievement. Margolin (1994) has discussed the gifted child education movement in the context of social class and inequality and has argued that gifted child education is related to maintaining the power of the affluent. He describes gifted child education as “a strategy to develop a class of people who lead, direct, and originate” (Margolin, 1994, p. 77), thus helping to support rank and privilege. My own experience as a low-income high school student is relevant here. Despite an exemplary academic record and awards at graduation for highest achievement in mathematics and science, I had no teacher or counselor ever tell me about college scholarships or encourage me to apply for any college except the one that was tuition-free and that I could attend as a commuter. A few years ago, I ran into a former high school classmate whose academic record had not been extraordinary and who had married at graduation and followed her husband through a career in the navy. She had been middle class and Irish Catholic, unlike me but like most of the teachers in our high school. I learned from her that she had been recommended for and received a scholarship at a prestigious college that she ended up declining. This personal story is congruent with qualitative research data and illustrates how conceptions about social class can affect the guidance offered by school counselors and teachers and do not reflect an appreciation of the adult paths that the lives of young people may take. For the most part, social class has a powerful influence on educational paths and opportunities in grade school, high school, and beyond. It has been reported that the rates at which low-income people are attending college have steadily declined (Hoyt, 1999). This is not surprising, given the ever-increasing costs of a college education. A recent report by a congressional panel (cf. “College Aid,” 2001) found that in the year 2000, the cost of college was 62% of family income for low-income families, compared with 16% for middle-class families and 7% for the highest income families. Pell grants, currently at a maximum of $3,300, cover only about 39% of the annual costs at a public four-year college. It is noteworthy, as well, that the so-called welfare reform legislation enacted by Congress in 1996 (Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Reconciliation Act, 1996) restricts access to higher education by persons receiving financial assistance, despite what is known about the positive relationship between education and the ability to get meaningful and better paying employment. The new federal regulations permit no more than 30% of a state’s caseload to count education as work, and an aid recipient may do so only for a maximum of 12 months if he or she is also engaged in some other work activity for 20 hours a week. Not surprisingly, college enrollment on the part of aid recipients has declined dramatically (Gault & Um’rani, 2000). That ethnicity matters as well as income is indicated by the results of a study of aid recipients in Virginia (cf. Savner, 2000). Forty-one percent of the White respondents reported being encourFebruary 2002 ● American Psychologist aged by their caseworkers to go to school, particularly to study for a general equivalency diploma, whereas not a single one of the Black recipients reported such encouragement. Housing The subject of homelessness has been discussed and analyzed elsewhere (e.g., see Rollins, Saris, & Johnston-Robledo, 2001; Shinn, Baumohl, & Hopper, 2001; Shinn & Gillespie, 1994). A new element in the housing crisis is reluctance on the part of landlords to accept tenants who receive some form of governmental subsidy. In cities around the country, landlords are rejecting the applications of subsidized tenants (Bernstein, 2001). In addition, gentrification and urban renewal succeed in uprooting about two and a half million low-income people in the United States each year from neighborhoods that are discovered by finance capital for new investment. Displacement—the exclusion of people from their communities—follows from forced evictions, as landlords sell their property for great profits and as poor people are unable to afford the dramatically increased rents. Carr (1994), who studied 400 poor families that were displaced for urban renewal from a privately owned apartment complex in a Virginia neighborhood, concluded that “displacement, the act of casting out, is inescapably an assault on personhood” (p. 200). It is generally the case that the majority of low-income families live in communities that are geographically and socially separate from middle-class communities. This is more often true of poor families who are also minorities of color (Halpern, 1993). The segregation of the poor into urban ghettoes and sections on the other side of the tracks in small towns across the United States reflects the desire and ability of the middle class to distance itself from the poor. The distancing is accomplished with physical space and also with language. As Moon and Rolison (1998) pointed out, “White trash” live in trailer parks, whereas middle-class folks live in mobile home communities; the urban poor live in housing projects, whereas the nonpoor live in high-rise apartments! Of course, the differences are more than linguistic. Although the projects are dangerous and poorly maintained, apartment buildings for the more affluent are guarded around the clock. It is well documented that communities in which poor people and minorities of color live are most likely to be put in environmental danger: They are most likely to be selected as the location for polluting industries as well as for hazardous waste sites. In one study (Stretesky & Hogan, 1998), researchers examined the communities surrounding 53 Florida Superfund sites, identified as containing hazardous waste, and found that these were more likely to be areas lived in by low-income African Americans and Hispanics. As in other studies, income and ethnicity were identified as significant variables. Another investigator (Pinderhughes, 1996) has concluded that “To save time and money, companies seek to locate environmentally hazardous industries in communities which will put up the least resistance, which are less informed and less powerful politically, and are more dependent upon local job develop105 ment efforts” (p. 233). Costs for industries are lower in poor neighborhoods, and the residents have little influence on permit-granting city governments and few resources enabling them to move. The result is environmental inequity, a clear consequence of social class, economic injustice, and unequal political power. As noted by Bullard and Johnson (2000), “The environmental protection apparatus in the United States does not provide equal protection for all communities” (p. 574). This document is copyrighted by the American Psychological Association or one of its allied publishers. This article is intended solely for the personal use of the individual user and is not to be disseminated broadly. Health Care and Legal Assistance A World Health Organization analysis ranked the United States 37th in the world in its overall quality of health care because of the unfair treatment received by the poor and because of the huge number of persons in the United States who are uninsured (World Health Organization, 2000). In 2000, 45 million people were without any health insurance (“Toward Universal Coverage,” 2000); 91% of the uninsured were employed, dependents of an employed person, or retired (Coalition for Consumer Justice Education Project, Inc., 2001). To my knowledge, the report by the World Health Organization was never mentioned by the major party candidates in the recent presidential election, nor was much attention paid to the amply documented conclusion that health outcomes are strongly correlated with social class position. As summarized by Belle, Doucet, Harris, Miller, and Tan (2000), “Poverty is associated with elevated rates of threatening and uncontrollable life events, noxious life conditions, marital dissolution, infant mortality, many diseases, violent crime, homicide, accidents, and deaths from all causes” (p. 1160). For example, in a study of cardiovascular disease (cf. “Heart Risks,” 2001), researchers found that heart attacks were significantly more likely for people in poor neighborhoods than for those in affluent neighborhoods, a conclusion that was unaffected when cholesterol levels, exercise, and other risk factors were taken into account. Mirowsky and Ross (2000) have reported that for people at the bottom of the economic distribution, the decline in physical functioning with age occurs at twice the rate as it does for the most wealthy, and that the “gap in mortality between the economically advantaged and disadvantaged is larger than that between smokers and nonsmokers” (p. 135). It is the egalitarian nature, not the wealth, of nations that is correlated with the longevity of their citizens, so it is no surprise that the United States, the most inequitable of the industrialized countries of the world, is behind 19 other nations in citizen life expectancy (cf. Belle et al., 2000). That these well-established facts have as yet had little or no influence on public policy has been pointed out by many (e.g., Lee, 1999; Newman, 1999; Tarlov, 1999). As noted by Lee (1999), “inequalities in health status related to SES [socioeconomic status] remain and may have even grown larger in the past 100 years” (p. 296). Social class affects health status through differences in access to health-promoting resources, differences in access to high-quality treatment, and differences in attitudes and beliefs held by health care workers. In a study of family practice residents, Price, Desmond, Snyder, and Kimmel 106 (1988) found that a sizable percentage believed that most poor people prefer to stay on welfare, that young women have babies to collect welfare checks, that most poor people are lazy, and that poor people cannot understand directions about their health care. Thus, it is not surprising that investigations of physician–patient communication (cf. Roter, 1988) have revealed that low-income patients tend to receive less information, less positive talk, and less talk overall than higher income patients. It is also not surprising to learn that out of 20,000 physicians who could be funded by a federal loan program that encourages doctors to work in poor areas, only 1,900 physicians are currently participating (cf. D. Z. Jackson, 2000). In this way, professional health workers put distance between themselves and the poor. Distancing is further illustrated by the well-documented phenomenon of “patient dumping, . . . [the] denial or limitation of services for economic reasons” (Price et al., 1988, p. 618) resulting in low-income patients being transferred from facility to facility. An investigation by Public Citizen, a consumer advocacy group, found that more than 500 hospitals in the United States (10% of all hospitals) have been cited by the federal government between 1997 and 1999 for violating the “antidumping” law passed in 1986 (cf. “Hospitals Violating Indigent Law,” 2001). One in five U.S. hospitals has been cited since the law was passed. Mental health workers also do not feel comfortable with low-income clients and find it difficult to empathize with them, as indicated by the results of an extensive literature review (Davis & Proctor, as cited in Leeder, 1996). They see the poor as “inarticulate and suspicious . . . resistant, apathetic and passive” (Leeder, 1996, p. 52). Further, low-income clients are more likely than others to receive therapy that is brief and drug-centered and to be treated by students or low-status professionals. Other empirical studies have documented the greater severity of punishment of poor juveniles for drug offenses, the greater likelihood that low-income women will be reported for drug use during pregnancy, and discrimination against poor women in their treatment for HIV and AIDS (cf. Bullock, 1995). Reid (2000) argued that “the public feels little concern or affinity with the disadvantaged people who are now the predominant victims of AIDS” (p. 720). Also illustrating inequality in medical resources is the fact that the reproductive benefits of poor women receiving Medicaid assistance are different than those received by women who are covered by employer plans. King and Meyer (1997) found, in a national study, that “reproductive benefits are distributed differentially on the basis of class” (p. 26). Poor women on Medicaid have mandated coverage of contraceptives but not for infertility, and they cannot obtain federally funded abortions. Lawyers, as a group, are similarly reluctant to provide services for the poor. Less than a third of low-income people who need an attorney can get one (Merry, 1986). Merry (1986) studied the ways in which working-class and poor people in the United States think about and use the law and concluded that their attempts to have the legal system work on their behalf result in frustration. It “turns February 2002 ● American Psychologist This document is copyrighted by the American Psychological Association or one of its allied publishers. This article is intended solely for the personal use of the individual user and is not to be disseminated broadly. out to be a time-consuming, complicated, and uncertain process . . . [and] the court [is seen] . . . as unpredictable, confusing, and arbitrary” (Merry, 1986, p. 266). She presented examples of attorneys whose words and actions reflected negative, stereotyped beliefs about low-income clients. The tendency for crime victims who are poor or homeless to receive less attention in the justice system than those who are more affluent is a phenomenon that is mirrored in the media, which also gives less coverage to and shows less interest in such crimes (Viano, 1992). Although low-income victims receive less attention in the justice system, low-income defendants and those who are minorities of color are more likely to be convicted of a variety of crimes. Just one dramatic example comes from a report by the U.S. Justice Department (as cited in “Deadly Disparities,” 2000). Eighty percent of the 682 defendants who have faced capital charges in the federal courts since 1995 have been minorities, and U.S. attorneys recommended the death penalty for 183 of these defendants, 74% of whom were minorities and poor. Politics and Public Policy Middle-class taxpayers often see themselves as taken advantage of by tax-supported programs for the poor, but it is really the case, as Rothblum (1996) has pointed out, that “the higher one’s income and status in the U.S., the more benefits, tax credits, and other free ‘perks’ are available” (p. 7). And there are special benefits available to the very rich from “corporate welfare.” Among the family-friendly advantages enjoyed by middle-class taxpayers that are not available to the poor, because their incomes are too low to qualify for them, are federal tax credits for child care and home ownership. Home owners receive direct financial assistance by being allowed to enter mortgage interest and property taxes in their list of itemized federal deductions. Although parents who accept public assistance are often criticized for what their critics perceive as inadequacies, Huston (1995) reminded readers that “We do not consider parents inadequate if they accept direct aid through the tax system” (p. 310). Careful attention to the recent presidential campaign would have led a visitor from another planet to conclude that there were no poor people in the United States, so seldom were they mentioned by the candidates from the two major parties. I was reminded of a Doonesbury cartoon (Trudeau, 1999) that featured an interview of a politician by a journalist about the similarities between the two parties. The journalist suggested to the politician a way of differentiating his party from the other one: “How about the poor? You could always champion the poor!” The politician replied, “That’s it—throw us your dregs!” Perhaps life does imitate art as well as vice versa. The Democratic Party candidate, from whom mention of the poor might have been expected, shifted during the campaign from use of the phrase working families to focus on and use the phrase middle class. This change in language and approach was noted by one journalist (“Gore Pitches,” 2000), who counted the number of times each phrase was used in February 2002 ● American Psychologist speeches at different points of the campaign. For example, in his 52-minute convention speech, Gore used the phrase working families 9 times, compared with a single use in a 22-minute speech given in Cleveland while on the campaign trail; in the same speech, the phrase middle class was used 12 times. Neither the Democratic nor the Republican candidates for president championed raising the federal minimum wage, which at $5.15 an hour earns someone working 8 hours a day, 40 hours a week for 50 weeks, $10,300 a year. Interpersonal Distancing What Bassuk (1993) referred to as “our unwillingness as a nation to commit the necessary resources to . . . poor families” (p. 346) is documented in a series of articles in an issue of the Journal of Social Issues (Lott & Bullock, 2001a). This issue focused on poor people’s daily experiences of exclusion, of being demeaned and discounted. U.S. institutions reduce the effectiveness with which poor people can access mainstream opportunities and benefits, and, in addition, distancing reactions are experienced directly from middle-class persons with whom low-income persons interact. As Bullock (1995) concluded from the research literature as well as from stories told by lowincome people, “poor people commonly experience faceto-face classist discrimination in their daily activities” (p. 142). They talk about being insulted or disregarded by others in shops, classrooms, and public offices, including those they must go to for public assistance. A sample of women interviewed in one study (Seccombe et al., 1998) spoke of the negative comments directed toward them by welfare workers and of the contempt shown toward clients. The respondents reported frequent disparagement and embarrassment at the grocery store. “Looking for evidence of fraud, cashiers and others closely scrutinize the food that . . . [is] purchase[d] . . . [looking] for women who buy steaks with food stamps” (Seccombe et al., 1998, p. 854). Bullock (1995) reported seeing in her own neighborhood “a long single row of children” (p. 143) lining the sidewalk outside of stores, into which only one or two were allowed at a time. The shop owners, she guessed, were “concerned with stealing, and only allow a small number of children in the store at a time so they can be carefully observed. It is difficult to imagine children being treated with such suspicion in middle-class or affluent neighborhoods” (Bullock, 1995, p. 143). Another example comes from the recollections of children who grew up in trailer parks (Berube & Berube, 1997). Because they were White and poor, their “Whiteness” was called into question, and they were continually challenged and provoked by the middle-class White kids who lived nearby in houses. One study (Riemer, 1997) of a group of women who left the welfare rolls in their city and took jobs as nurse assistants in a geriatric facility reported on how the women were marginalized and stigmatized by their nurse supervisors. On the job, the low-income women found that their knowledge and experience were discounted, their suggestions were unwelcome, and their behavior was subject to continual negative scrutiny. Not only were they poorly 107 paid, but their interactions with supervisors “squashed their enthusiasm and motivation” (Riemer, 1997, p. 232). This document is copyrighted by the American Psychological Association or one of its allied publishers. This article is intended solely for the personal use of the individual user and is not to be disseminated broadly. Final Thoughts The central thesis of this article is that a dominant response to the poor by the nonpoor is that of distancing, and examples of such distancing in the form of exclusion, separation, devaluing, and discounting, which operationalize classist discrimination, have been drawn from many areas. The literature on beliefs amply illustrates cognitive distancing and the fact that poor people tend to be seen as other and lesser in values, character, motivation, and potential. Such beliefs complement the deliberate or indirect exclusion of low-income people from full participation in social institutions. Examples have been presented from the areas of education, housing, health care, legal assistance, politics, and public policy. These document the reality behind the recent words of a New York Times columnist (Herbert, 2001): “The poor are pretty well hidden from everyone except each other. You won’t find them in the same neighborhoods . . . as the well-to-do. They’re not on television, except for local crime-casts. And they’ve vanished from the nation’s political discussion” (para. 1). Where poor people personally interact with the nonpoor in shops and offices, interpersonal distancing is a common experience. Elsewhere I have written about the responses to low-income parents by teachers and principals in the public schools (Lott, 2001). What can be said of positive efforts on the part of human service professionals and others to help the poor improve their life circumstances and cope with the often devastating consequences of poverty? Do such efforts contradict the generalization that distancing is the dominant response to the poor? For those who do not see the poor as other, the answer is yes. But help is too often accompanied by beliefs in the dysfunctionality of poor families and the discounting of strengths, skills, and wisdom. Too often, professional efforts reflect insensitivity and paternalism. For example, Polakow (1995) has argued that “ countless middle-class people in the human service professions have built their careers as the direct beneficiaries of poverty . . . . [D]iagnosis and remediation are the essential ingredients of a proliferating deficit/pathology business” (p. 268). As long as efforts on the behalf of low-income people are predicated on assumptions about their inferiority and difference from oneself, the behavior of those trying to help will reflect distance, be it psychological or physical. As argued by Schwalbe et al. (2000), the process of “othering,” of defining a “group as morally and/or intellectually inferior” (p. 423), provides advantages to the dominant group. These advantages are obtained by maintaining barriers that restrict access to resources by the others, thus easing access by those who are like oneself. There is evidence that poverty is beginning to be taken seriously and that beliefs about the poor may change. A study of recent news stories (Bullock et al., 2001) found fewer negative stereotypes than in the past and more sympathetic portrayals. Real efforts to counteract the serious personal and social consequences of excluding the poor 108 from respectful consideration and concern may soon be seen. For example, a representative from the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services (Golden, 2000), in writing about child abuse, acknowledged that “the most prevalent form of maltreatment in this country is neglect and that neglect is most often associated with poverty, isolation, and a lack of collateral support” (p. 1053). Psychologists can meet the challenge presented by such a conclusion by suggesting appropriate and potentially effective interventions to those who shape public policy. In conclusion, I urge readers to consult the Resolution on Poverty and Socioeconomic Status (APA, 2000) passed by APA, to read Bullock and Lott (2001) for ways to implement the resolution, and to begin a continuing conversation about the role psychologists can play in disrupting classism. Such a conversation might include attention to the speech given by Jesse Jackson (2000) at APA’s 107th Annual Convention in 1999. He reminded us then that Most poor people work every day. Most poor people in the U.S. are not Black, not Brown. Most poor people are White, female, young, invisible, and without national leaders. Most poor people are not on welfare. They raise other people’s children . . . . They put food in our children’s schools. . . . They clean our offices. . . . They cut grass. . . . They pick lettuce. . . . They work in hospitals, as orderlies . . . no job is beneath them. 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