Leslie Lewis Home

On Tuesday, I (symbolically) died.  I didn’t intend to.  When I donned my all-black mourning garb in the AM, I thought I would just go stand in solidarity with my students as they toppled over and apocryphally croaked in a dramatic visual representation of the death of public education.  But so few people showed up for this action, and it was so muted by the inane donut sales of the nearby fraternity,  that I was deeply disheartened.  When the six or so bold souls lay down along Library Walk, I collapsed along with them, blocking the way of a few surprised passers by.

Symbolic death of public education

The designated speaker bellowed out various grim statistics: student debt has grown 511% since 1999.  Tuition has tripled in real dollars since 2000.  The Regents are warning of an 81% increase in fees over the next four years. (http://teachthebudget.com/)  The average student leaves these hallowed halls with around 24k in debt, but just a middling chance at securing a job that would make paying off the loans possible.  Only 50% of the students who graduated over the past four years found full-time employment.

Frankly, I find this information numbing.  Do others feel the same way?  Is this what happened to the rest of the students (and faculty) in the university: were they immobilized by rage upon hearing these statistics?  Were they apoplectic to the point of paralysis at the injustice of a system that advertises “equality and democracy for all!” and “success and social mobility for those who apply themselves!” but seems to be set up to reproduce the very inequality it rhetorically derides?  Is that why no one else showed up?

Yeah, no.  The majority of students (and to be fair, faculty and staff) appear blissfully unaware that protests are even taking place at their university.  Activism seems to be a hard sell at UCSD (unlike Berkeley, UC Irvine and UCLA).  Many of my students are aiming for medical and graduate schools, and they are so nose-to-the-grindstone about their studies and internships and lab jobs and volunteer work (breath) that they rarely come up for air.  What I am trying to teach in my courses, and what a blessed sampling do seem to grasp, is that poverty and inequality, and the systems that sustain them, are integrally linked to health.

It may not surprise people that there is a social gradient.  As you descend the socioeconomic ladder, health outcomes diminish: average life expectancy is lower, morbidity (disease) and mortality rates increase.  The poorer you are the poorer you do.  This is only partly because of limited access to health care.  It is primarily the effects of stress, limited educational and employment opportunities, racism, environmental and food injustice.  What many people do not realize is that social inequality is bad for everyone.  In comparative studies of states in the U.S., and in similar studies comparing countries across the world, the data consistently show that the more equal a society, in other words, the less of a gap there is between rich and poor, the better that society does.  The whole population benefits, enjoying better health and economic productivity.  This fact is nicely illustrated in the Ted Talk by Richard Wilkinson.

So, the growing gap between rich and poor in the U.S., and the steady erosion of institutions (like our public education system) that have traditionally acted as a partial counterbalance to the concentration of money and power in the hands of a few, worsen the health, productivity and political power of all residents.  Not good.  We are supposed to be a democracy; we should act like one.  This is mainly what Occupy Wall Street (and its counterparts in major cities around the country and world) are railing against: the slow, steady crushing of the poor, working and middle classes while a tiny minority (that infamous 1%) enjoys levels of opulence that are difficult to wrap one’s mind around.

Our current disparities did not arise out of some fantasy scenario in which a small minority of people worked exceptionally hard and therefore deserve to own 40% of the wealth in this country, while the remaining 99% sat around lazily eating bonbons.  For the most part, we are all working very, very hard.  But poverty begets poverty, and wealth begets wealth, particularly in a system where tax law and trade policy enable corporations to generate fabulous profits at very little risk or cost.  Thanks to current business-friendly policies and tax loopholes, companies can externalize much of the true costs of business (the impact of their activities on the environment and communities; decent pay and benefits to workers), while returning very little to the public coffers that provide them generous subsidies and bail them out when they get into serious financial trouble.

When wealthy corporations and individuals do not pay their fair share to the society (and other tax payers) that made their wild successes possible, local communities lose out.  Students lose out.  States make cuts to education, public libraries, museums, and to critical social and economic supports for the most vulnerable citizens.  Real people suffer, grieve, die.  It is easy enough to spout off about needing to cut off the welfare and social service “gravy train,” but basic social supports do not set people up in posh apartments with daily facials and foot massages.  They enable basic survival.  The recipients are not some faceless, undeserving “others;” they are our grandmothers, they are the children in our neighborhoods,  fellow city dwellers, valuable human beings.  We all need and deserve food, shelter, clothing, education, opportunity.  Justice.  Hope.

Contrary to the typical American ideological presumption that anyone can get ahead by working hard, the U.S. ranks lower than all other industrialized nations in measures of economic equality and social mobility (the ability to “move up” the socioeconomic ladder).  The worst.  Education has traditionally been our way up and out.  Those who made it to college (and most students did not due to barriers too numerous to  outline here, but those who did),  could expect that they would graduate, get good jobs and generally surpass their parents in earning power.  This circumstance has changed dramatically over the past few decades.

Beginning in the 1980s, new laws and policies began to reverse previous trends toward a more equitable distribution of wealth, opportunity, and political voice.  Gaps in education, health and employment between social classes and racial/ethnic groups, which had been narrowing, now began a renewed widening.  A new culture celebrating radical free market capitalism and private enterprise eroded support for a public safety net and a common (legislatively protected) public good.  Trends toward privatization, legitimized by the argument that “big government” was bad, and free market capitalism was good, enriched corporations along with the people in their upper echelons, while the average American lost jobs, benefits, money and prospects.  Even college students, who used to emerge from their senior year fresh-faced, ebullient (if a little hung over), and ready to embark on important careers, now face unemployment and a return ticket home to live with their parents.

So what if graduates start off  “in the hole?”  If America’s up-and-coming generation is already struggling so mightily, and has so few opportunities to find jobs that will pull them out of debt, it is (again) bad news for all of us.  A recent article in Slate Magazine reported that the wealth gap between the “under 35s” and the “over 35s” hit an all time high this year.  In other words, folks over 35 possess, on average, 59 times the amount of wealth as those under 35 years old: $170k vs. 3.5k.

My fear as I read the article was that it would spark animosity on the part of the younger generation towards the older (which is precisely what seems to have occurred judging from many of the comments on the site). This abominable wealth gap between the generations is far less a function of older folks “living large” as of younger folks getting screwed because of political trends towards privatization, and away from some of the social and economic leveling policies that aided previous generations. For the most part, the “older generation” is not the enemy. Mostly these are our parents and grandparents, who ALSO loathe the current situation of gross (and growing) inequality and diminishing educational and employment opportunities. They are the very people who open their homes and pocketbooks to college graduates, 30-somethings and 40-somethings alike who lose or can’t find jobs, and literally cannot afford to live on their own. Rather than dividing ourselves, we ought to recognize that we are all part of the 99%. We have a common interest in altering tax and social policy so that there is economic opportunity, and a social safety net, for people of all generations, genders, and ethnicities.

College students should care about this.  Thankfully, some do.  When I returned yesterday for more protests at UCSD, there was a larger, louder crowd rallying and marching to occupy… well, as it turns out, the street.  But this was kind of cool.  Nothing gets folks more worked up in southern California than inhibiting their ability to drive to their desired destination.  So we occupied a crosswalk, and stopped traffic, to the eye-popping perturbation of bus drivers and police officers.  More people watched than participated (nothing like a spectacle!), but what the hell; maybe a few more people sat up and took notice.

Alright, this wasn't us, but it was a LITTLE like this

This really WAS us

which caused the gratifying rerouting of traffic

Thank you to Maria Tillmanns, Annie Le, and UCSD Associated Students Office of External Affairs for photos.

This is a nice interview with Dee Williams, sustainability hero and tiny house inhabitant.  She ruminates thoughtfully on consumerism and related cultural norms and expectations, privilege, inequality, and sustainability, as well as the importance of community and a sense of connection to others.  Dee is part of a small but growing movement of people trying to live more simply, and leave a smaller ecological footprint on the world.

These little houses are affordable and aesthetically pleasing.  I know this idea isn’t for everyone, but it is pretty cool.  You gather together your most reliable friends (or those most vulnerable to persuasion, moral pressure or physical coercion), and build one of these little buggers.  That’s right: strap on the overalls (and anything else you’re into), and raise the walls Amish-style (or what I imagine “Amish-style” to be, based on one barn-raising scene in the film, Witness).  Building (tiny) houses together can simultaneously build social bonds.  Our increasingly anonymous, atomized, media-saturated, Bowling Alone society could do with a bit more of that community-building and mutual reliance.

The ecological benefits are swell too.  Currently the worldwide average of hectares used per person (a measure of how much land and sea we each require to accommodate our energy demands and the copious waste we generate)…is 1.8.  The problem is that we don’t actually have enough land to meet that demand.  We are already beyond our carrying capacity by 25%.  In other words, we need 1.25 earths to cover the current world demand.  And of course, demand is going up, both in people’s wants and expectations, and in our sheer, proliferating numbers.  The world population is at 6.7 billion right now, and is expected to reach 9.2 billion within 40 years.  Since there are no handy second earths standing by, we reeeeally need to reduce our carrying capacity.

Just to deal with the current disparity between what we use/generate and what the earth can accommodate, we should all cut back, on average, a quarter of the energy we use (in our cars, planes, air conditioners and heaters, in the appliances we use, the elevators we ride, and the lights we lazily leave on).  At the same time, we should reduce the amount of waste we produce (the stuff we buy and then promptly pitch, which is true of 99% of it, the packaged food we consume, the number of trash bags we drag to the curb, etc.).

That would be a good start.  Unfortunately, it doesn’t take another pesky disparity into consideration: different sized ecological footprints across the globe.  We don’t all step out in the same slinky, environmentally-sexy sandals.  Some of us wear clodhoppers.  The worldwide average of 1.8 hectares per person (HPP) is just that: an average.  China makes increasingly larger demands for energy, but given that it has over a billion people, the average for that country is only 1.6 HPP, .2 HPPs under the world average.  India, also a population powerhouse, nonetheless only averages .8 HPPs.  The UK blows them both out of the water with 5.5 HPPs (damned greedy Brits).  Good thing we’re not like that.

We’re worse.  We used nearly 10 HPPs in 2003, and our numbers and use have only grown since then.  Yikes.  So, overpopulation is a concern for the earth (or more accurately, for the ability of humans to remain living here; as George Carlin points out, the earth will continue on fine and dandy long after we’re gone), but Americans are far harder on the world than the inhabitants of just about every other country.  The delightful little beasties that I co-procreated are a far greater energy drain than their counterparts in other parts of the globe.  Since I, in all my reproductive glory and excess, produced four here, it is actually LIKE I produced 40+ babies in India.  No wonder I have a potbelly.

In order to assuage my guilt over this, and do my part to ease up on the planet, we’ve reduced TV viewing by half, sweet consumption by 2/3, and instead of taking our car to run errands, we saddle up the kids and ride them where we need to go.  Don’t worry, most things we need are close by.  Besides, the physical activity is good for them.  It helps offset all the cuts to PE in our schools.

My own rampant reproductivity aside, overconsumption is an issue in our beloved “Bigger is Better,” Value Meal America, and a trend towards tiny (or at least smaller) houses is certainly in order.  I volunteer my copious muscle (forged, in part, by Robbie Ho and Stephanie Schmidt’s body-sculpting Bay Club workouts) to anyone who wants to build one of these babies.

This week, I walked the streets of downtown La Jolla and Barrio Logan with my students as part of a neighborhood mapping exercise. The class covers environmental and preventive health issues, and one of the points I try to demonstrate is that despite our tendency to attribute health problems to genetics and lifestyle “choices,” it is the physical and social environment, and factors like poverty, inequality and stress, that play the larger role in determining our health and well-being.

In La Jolla, as the students noted, both the built environment (the charming smaller streets, fountains, cafés with outside seating, hanging plants and gardens integrated throughout, art galleries and public sculptures), and the local cultural norms (the relaxed attitude, health-conscious eating, a non-smoking mentality, and the flood of runners and cyclists) foster health and well-being.

This photo of La Jolla is courtesy of TripAdvisor

By contrast, Barrio Logan is a poorer neighborhood tucked under the Coronado Bridge. It has an inspiring history of community activism, but its residents face a significant array of environmental challenges and health burdens. Here, sidewalks and buildings are dilapidated and industrial shops sit next to schools and residential plots. Despite the beautiful murals in various locations, for the most part, the streets do not invite strolling or gathering: trees are sparse, benches are absent, and there are no grassy areas to soothe the eyes and rest the body. Trucks barrel down the street mingling their diesel fumes with the ambient odor of petrochemicals and other industrial effluent.

Children, who make up nearly 40% of Barrio Logan, are bombarded with tremendously high doses of neurotoxins, endocrine disruptors, carcinogens and obesogens. Barrio Logan residents are exposed to 50 times the amount of toxins than residents of La Jolla, largely because of the shipyard and power plant nearby, the freeways that cut through the heart of the community, and land use policy that allows industry to be situated right next to residential homes, daycare centers and parks. Not surprisingly, children’s health, development and cognitive abilities are negatively affected. Rates of hospitalizations for asthma in Barrio Logan are almost 3x those for the county.

Barrio Logan residents are stalwart, creative, resilient people who have been working to improve the health and well-being of their community. Their efforts, and the sense of self-efficacy and hope they inspire, act as protective factors against the numerous burdens that people grapple with. You can see some of their accomplishments here and here. There is a growing art scene and a community pride that became evident as we spoke with a sampling of residents.

However, though pride and efforts to fortify the community are critical and worthy of support, many of the roots of the problem (economic, social and land use policies) remain, and continue to perpetuate poor health, cyclic poverty and inequality.

La Jolla, which enjoys great wealth, resources and beauty might be understood to suffer from a different set of problems (though these are the kinds of problems that not everyone would perceive or consider problematic). On every downtown block, alongside the lovely cafés, galleries and boutique stores, one notices an inordinate number of businesses catering to, and likely contributing to, people’s preoccupation with physical appearance: salons, spas, gyms, Pilates studios, clothing, shoe and jewelry stores, cosmetic dentistry and plastic surgery suites.

Our concern with looking, smelling, dressing, sounding and behaving in a particular, culturally-defined way is not natural or automatic. We learn it. We watch those around us, and we internalize the millions of commercial and social messages we receive in our lifetimes telling us that without products: clothes, deodorants, lotions, perfumes, make-up, cars, handbags and other accessories, we will not be worthy. Yet we are all inherently valuable quite apart from the material trappings of our lives, or how attractive we can mold ourselves to be according to the narrow beauty standards of the day.

These issues may seem unrelated but I believe they are connected. A culture heavily focused on consumerism is one in which individuals derive their sense of identity and value from the products they buy and the ways they adorn and enhance their physical selves. Such an economy fosters self-centeredness over self-in-perspective, self-service (and nail service!) over service to community and broader purpose. In our preoccupation (obsession?) with looking attractive and feeling good about ourselves, we lose sight of how our actions affect others, and how the privileges we enjoy often come at the expense of the environment, other groups and individuals who share our world, even our own sense of self.

What if, instead of watching 4 hours of television a day (the average for Americans), we all went outside and took a walk each evening, exploring nearby neighborhoods, and stopping to talk to people. What if we looked around their worlds, saw the challenges they face and the strength with which they face them. What if we told them about our own lives, concerns, and joys?

It is hard to accept injustice and arbitrary socioeconomic inequalities when we know the people suffering under them, and they know us. It is harder to tell ourselves stories about the “shiftlessness” of the poor, or the greediness of welfare mothers when we have shared a meal with them, know something of their lives, and recognize that they grieve, cry and laugh in the same way we do.