100 books like The Injustice of Place

Life expectancy among the working-class population in the United States was decreasing at an astounding rate well before the Covid-19 pandemic. While I was aware of growing inequality and decreasing access to health care for many, I didn’t realize how desperate the conditions of life seemed for many working-class Americans.

This book forced me to confront the uncomfortable reality of the health crisis among the many blue-collar workers living in the heartland of America.  

From the opening page, Desmond challenges us to confront our role in maintaining poverty in America. He uses simple examples: Why do we view a tax deduction for home mortgage interest differently than a housing voucher for a low-income renter? Both are government subsidies, yet many people consider the first one “earned” and the second one a “handout.”

Desmond provides many similar examples that force us to confront the varied ways that our society maintains an ongoing underclass. He makes clear that the maintenance of poverty is a choice. If we truly want to end poverty, we can, and he provides a roadmap for us to do so. So, do we maintain the status quo or join Desmond as a “poverty abolitionist?”  It’s our choice. 

While this book is fiction, it is impossible to avoid knowing that there are multitudes of children like young Damon Fields across rural America. Born on the edge, you know he is just one false move away from falling into despair. That this fall comes from a series of tiny slips and not a single large blunder makes the plot all the more poignant.

The fault of his demise is not entirely his, however. To reach the bottom, he must be failed by our schools, our healthcare system, and our social safety net too. That this bitterly sorrowful book retells Dickens simply shows how little progress we’ve made in the past two centuries.   

Paul Farmer does not let you off the hook. When he sees injustice and inequality, he doesn’t accept answers like “it’s too costly to help” or “it isn’t practical to change.” He crusades for the underprivileged and demands that you step up alongside him, free your imagination, and accept nothing other than solutions to the pressing problems of health equity across the world.

I love this book because it is a call to arms for all that Farmer believes in.

The Color of Welfare is a classic text on the history of American social policy.

The American welfare state was created by President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s New Deal in the wake of the Great Depression. Quadagno explains how Roosevelt compromised with conservative southern members of Congress in order to enact the New Deal into law. These consequences shaped early anti-poverty policies in ways that disproportionately excluded African Americans by design. 

Quadagno then traces how this legacy of racially discriminatory social policymaking continued through President Johnson’s War on Poverty in the 1960s. The Color of Welfare taught me why the American welfare state is so underdeveloped compared to the nations of Western Europe and why it is characterized by so many racial disparities.

What would it look like if the federal government launched an ambitious campaign to mobilize community residents to reduce poverty? 

Daniel Patrick Moynihan offers an insider’s account of one such effort, launched in the 1960s as part of the War on Poverty. What he finds is a fundamental disconnect between the ambitions and high-minded theories of reformers in Washington DC, and the hard realities of practice on the ground.

Maximum Feasible Misunderstanding is a cautionary tale and a heartbreaking catalog of missed opportunities, unintended consequences, and wasted resources. I wish someone had handed me this book at the start of my career to help temper my youthful idealism.

The Appalachian Volunteers began in the early ’60s as a ragtag group of college kids who spent their summers fixing up one-room schoolhouses in rural Kentucky. With funding from government anti-poverty programs, it grew into a formidable organization dedicated to fighting strip mining and economic injustice. Then it was killed, like so many good things, by the Nixon administration. This superb history of the AVs is really a history of Appalachia—and America—in the 1960s.

Few books have changed the course of history like Harry Caudill’s Night Comes to the Cumberlands. Exposing political corruption, environmental destruction, and endemic poverty in Appalachia, Night Comes put poverty squarely on the national agenda and inspired LBJ’s War on Poverty. Although not rigorously factual — Caudill never let the facts get in the way of a good story — Night Comes is a priceless document of its time and place, and required reading for anyone who wants to understand Appalachian culture and history in the middle of the 20th century.

I have always loved Branko Milanović’s way of addressing complex topics in a very accessible and usually highly original way.

In this book, Milanović pays much attention to the rich and the super-rich and devises a way of comparing their wealth across the ages by asking this simple question: how much labour could they command in their own historical period and socio-economic context?

So, for example, Marcus Licinius Crassus, the richest Roman of Caesar’s times, could, with the yearly income from his vast possessions, command the work of 32,000 people. But, as Milanović argues, today’s super-rich are richer than past ones–circa 2010, the richest person in the world was the telecommunications magnate Carlos Slim, who could command the work of 440,000 Mexicans.

Robin loves the way that this book displays how even a Kantian basis (not home territory for him) shows why poverty should not be tolerated.

It underlines how extreme poverty undermines the exercise of rational agency, and thus the proper functioning of human beings.

Onora O’Neill argues cogently that morality precludes the employment of force or fraud, and gives rise to universal principles applicable both within and between societies. Population policies, for example, should depend on the informed consent of those affected.