Some people say America will never end poverty. I think that reflects a defeatist view of history.
Poverty is not a fixed concept. While there may always be people whom we classify as poor, the suffering attached to poverty can be dramatically reduced. History demonstrates that. The poverty Americans experience today is not the same poverty our grandparents or great-grandparents endured because, over time, we have chosen to solve some of its worst manifestations.
Take hunger.
Not that long ago, photographs of American children with swollen bellies from malnutrition shocked the nation. During his 1968 presidential campaign, Robert F. Kennedy traveled through some of the poorest communities in the Mississippi Delta and Appalachia, bringing journalists with him. What they witnessed was a level of hunger and deprivation that many Americans simply did not know existed. The public response helped build support for expanding federal nutrition programs, which substantially reduced severe hunger in the United States.
Or consider old age.
For much of American history, growing old often meant falling into poverty if you had exhausted your savings or lacked family able to support you. During Franklin Roosevelt’s administration, that began to change. The creation of Social Security gave millions of older Americans a dependable source of income and transformed what retirement could look like for generations.
In both cases, poverty didn’t disappear.
But it changed.
That’s why I reject the idea that today’s poverty is inevitable. The question isn’t simply whether poverty will exist. The more important question is: What will poverty mean?
For me, two poverty-related issues have become lifelong passions.
The first is homelessness.
After decades of research and real-world experience, we know that homelessness is largely a housing problem. Communities that invest in enough affordable housing, pair it with rental assistance when needed, and provide supportive services for people facing significant health or behavioral health challenges can dramatically reduce homelessness.
The frustrating part is that continuing to tolerate widespread homelessness is extraordinarily expensive. Emergency rooms, shelters, crisis services, policing, and other emergency responses often cost taxpayers roughly what permanent solutions would cost—and sometimes more. The challenge isn’t that we lack effective strategies. It’s that implementing them requires political will, upfront investment, and coordination across different levels of government.
The second issue is the relationship between poverty and adverse childhood experiences, or ACEs.
Children raised in deep poverty often experience chronic or toxic stress. When young children—especially those under five—are repeatedly exposed to serious adversity without stable, supportive relationships, that stress can alter their physical, emotional, and cognitive development. The consequences can last a lifetime, increasing the likelihood of poorer health, educational outcomes, and economic opportunity.
That is one of the greatest injustices of poverty.
We often treat these outcomes as unfortunate but unavoidable, even though many could be prevented through investments in stable housing, nutrition, health care, early childhood education, and family supports. Those investments are not simply acts of compassion; they frequently save money over the long run by reducing the need for more costly interventions later in life.
That’s what I keep coming back to.
Many of the solutions cost about the same as—or even less than—the price we already pay for allowing these problems to persist.
So why do we tolerate them?
Is it because the suffering is less visible than it once was? We no longer see photographs of children with swollen bellies on the evening news, so perhaps it’s easier to look away. Is it because we’ve convinced ourselves that poverty is primarily the result of individual choices rather than public policy?
That certainly plays an outsized part.
What I do know is that America has repeatedly redefined what poverty looks like by deciding that certain kinds of suffering were no longer acceptable.
We can do that again.
Will America eliminate poverty entirely? Maybe not. But ending homelessness and dramatically reducing the childhood harms associated with poverty are well within our reach. They make moral sense. They make economic sense. And they are achievable if we choose to make them priorities.
The question isn’t whether we know what to do.
The question is whether we have the courage to do it.
