blatham wrote:But I'm dubious for a number of reasons. First, have you noticed how information coming out of many US cities on the consequences of program reductions has been unclear and ambiguous? A politician will trumpet "We've reduced those on welfare by 40%! Huzzah!". Then, further down the newspaper page, someone will admit "Well, we aren't sure where they've gone, and yes, some are probably homeless now." Or a social worker will describe a single mother who now works three minimum wage jobs while her child is cared for by someone else, or while her teenage boys are without much guidance and care. Measuring these things is terribly elusive.
This is a very good point, but I think it misses a key point.
An anecdote about this or that person who has moved off the welfare roles only to become homeless, means nothing if we don't know what he or she did to take personal responsibility during that transition. Did the person try to get a job, try to become self-sufficient? Isn't personal responsibility part of the equation?
My heart goes out to anyone who lives in squalor. As a society we need to help these people as we can, where we can, but those who make destructive choices day in and day out, should be left to the consequences of those choices. Propping them up merely delays the day when they might realize that their squalid life is not just "the luck of the draw" but a result of how they choose to play their hand.
A little personal history might help explain my perspective...
I was a drunk and a drug user when I was young. Before I'd even turned 21 I'd already reached a point where I frequently suffered black outs and went through severe withdrawals when I tried not drinking for a few days--usually in a feeble attempt to prove to myself that I didn't have a problem.
The train wreck I was making of my life caught up with me just shy of my 21st birthday, while I was in the Navy. At 9:30 on a Wednesday morning--a workday for me--while attending sick call for an unrelated problem, a blood test revealed that I had a 0.225 blood alcohol level. That's almost 3 times the 0.08% BAC at which you are considered intoxicated in most states, yet aside from reeking of alcohol, I showed no signs of intoxication, so conditioned to alcohol had my body become. The Navy, as you might expect, chose to take this seriously, and began taking measures to deal with me, measures I wasn't too happy about.
So, what do you do when you've screwed up your life at 20 and you don't want to deal with the repercussions of the choices you've made? You call Mom and Dad, which is what I did. I told them the Navy was wrong, the blood test was wrong, everybody and everything was to blame but me. They asked what I planned to do, and I replied that since I couldn't accept the actions the Navy planned to take, I would just let them kick me out and then come home and figure out what to do from there.
After a brief pause, my father's exact words were, "Don't come here. There's nothing for you here." My mother followed up by suggesting that perhaps the Navy knew what they were talking about and that I might want to listen to them. As you might guess, I was not terribly happy at this response at the time, though I have thanked my parents many times over in the years since.
Far from not caring, my parents cared too much to let me run from the problems I had created. They knew that simply letting me run from the consequences of my actions would almost certainly keep me from learning what I needed to learn. They made me face the music, and at long last when I found myself with nowhere to run and with no way to wiggle out of the mess I'd gotten into, I faced it, accepted it, and began to look at how I needed to change my actions and my choices to ensure--as much as is possible--that I would never find myself in those straits again.
I chose to bore you all with this story because I believe that we as a society need to care enough about those whose choices put them in poverty to let them face the consequences of their choices, and that merely propping up those who continue to make bad choices simply teaches them that the consequences of their actions can be avoided.
It is important to note that I had help repairing my life and getting my head screwed back on straight. Likewise, we as a society should be there to help those who choose to help themselves. But until they make that choice, our helping hand is far more likely to hold them down, than help them up.
Anyhow, hope I didn't bore too many of you too much.
Thanks, Mom and Dad.