Precarity

Uncertain, insecure and unequal lives in Aotearoa New Zealand

Bridgette Masters-Awatere, Clifford van Ommen, Natasha Matamua, Shiloh Groot, Shioh Groot, Bridgette Masters-Awatere, Clifford van Ommen, Natasha Matamua, Shiloh Groot, Shioh Groot

• Publisher: Massey University Press
• Year: 2017
• Print ISBN: 9780994141514
• eBook ISBN: 9780994141521
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Social Sciences
• Subtopic: Social Classes & Economic Disparity
• Index: Social Sciences

Leading UK economist Guy Standing has referred to the precariat as a class-in-the-making. The Precariat are our fellow citizens — be they poor, elderly, disabled, homeless, estranged from their cultural communities, refugees, engaged in casual work — who lead lives of uncertainty, dependency, powerlessness, perilousness and insufficiency. They are the outcome of the gradual dismantling of the welfare state and the withering of union representation. They are also the victims of the changing nature of work.

This important book moves beyond the world of labour to identify and illustrate other forms of precarity in New Zealand, including the lack of opportunities for cultural expression and the struggle to be safe. It focuses on New Zealand's emerging class, not to further vilify it but rather to place its members' lived experience in plain sight. As the editors say, 'It is time that all New Zealanders understood the reality of what many of our citizens endure in the struggle to make ends meet and live dignified lives.'

PART ONE:

SELLING SNAKE OIL

INTRODUCTION

CLIFFORD VAN OMMEN AND SHILOH GROOT

Many of us would be familiar with the expression ‘selling snake oil’, which typically refers to a health product of questionable quality or benefit. There is an interesting story about the origin of the term. According to this tale, snake oil was originally an authentic medication, made from the oil of the Chinese water snake, which was brought into the US by indentured Chinese labourers.1 The oil proved to be an effective and soothing treatment for inflammation but, since there were no Chinese water snakes in the US, demand quickly exceeded supply. Entrepreneurial locals soon turned to indigenous snakes, but these lacked the medicinal potency of their Asian relative. It wasn’t long before alternatives bearing the same name, but not a molecule of oil or remedy, were being traded as cures for all sorts of ills.

There seems something appropriate about this narrative when considering our current times. The Trump-era US political scene has introduced us to a new term, ‘alternative facts’, which most of us would recognise as a synonym for ‘lies’. ‘Alternative facts’ do seem to abound in our times and the tonics that some, both locally and elsewhere, are trying to sell us are so lacking in an ounce of truth or even common logic that many of us are simultaneously struck with the twin emotions of mirth and fear. Unfortunately for many — the members of the precariat — it is very hard, often impossible, to avoid such quack tonics and dodgy placebos. This obviously can have destructive effects physically, psychologically, relationally, spiritually and communally.

‘Alternative facts’ are not some radical new development in the sociopolitical landscape; rather, they represent an intensification of pre-existing practices. Such strategies typically make a lot of sense if you cannot look beyond the current system (that is, if you see the world as it currently is as the only possible world) since their aim is to keep the current system intact. Unfortunately this often leads to an escalation in the dosage of such strategies. If at first you don’t succeed, then you just do more of the same, increasing the amount, intensity, focus and frequency.

For example, arguments with partners often take this form; one says something to the other at an everyday volume, subsequently repeating the same message at an ever-escalating volume when it doesn’t seem to be making a difference. Eventually the back-and-forth escalation can even be heard by the neighbours and, in some cases, a profound shift in strategy occurs and things turn violent. Or, another example, if unemployment increases, you are encouraged to look at other people on the job market as competitors, possibly singling out those who arrived more recently or who look different to you. Before you know it, you’re building walls. As systems break down, the solutions required to keep them intact typically become more and more ludicrous and, at worst, brutal. Ironically, the solutions aimed at sustaining the current system have led to it becoming unrecognisably transformed.

A common reductive explanation for many of the social issues that face our society is to blame the individual. So, the inability to find work, to feed and house one’s family, or to successfully manage one’s finances become seen as individual deficits and failures. The person is seen as lacking certain skills, whether this is in planning, thinking, regulating emotions, managing interpersonal interactions or self-presentation. Solutions become matters of further education, training or ‘nudging’ (the behavioural coercion) of such individuals.2 Continued failure can then be regarded as a sign of moral failure: an unwillingness to contribute to society, to take responsibility and to toe the line, to pull oneself up by the bootstraps, which inevitably results in rejection from the system in some form or other. Shining the torch on such individuals is a great way to draw attention away from the system itself and those who benefit from its current organisation. It also obscures and marginalises other more humane and community-building solutions that take time and collective commitment.

To demystify the fraudulent solutions ‘snake oil merchants’ tempt us with, or the offered solutions that do not take the complexity of many social issues into account, requires standing back from the current system and questioning the assumptions or rules on which power is enacted. The solutions that emerge from such an approach are often radical in that they seek to change the fundamental procedures and guidelines (values) on which the system is currently organised. Change can be frightening for many; not merely because it is a shift from the familiar (better the devil we know) but because some members of the system have deeply vested interests in keeping it intact — even if this means the suffering and mounting decline of others. Often solutions are dismissed with a well-rehearsed gesture, a sound-bite or a self-righteous chuckle and any serious public debate is not allowed to develop. But that debate is essential in a democracy.

This section of the book explores both current solutions that we are told are ‘common sense’ and potential alternatives for a healthy and inclusive society. As its title suggests, the first set of solutions will strike many readers as familiar, but such ready-to-hand solutions almost always obscure other facts and arguments. The authors of each chapter show how some of our ‘common sense’ responses and practices are filled with non-sense, and are even morally dodgy. Many of these authors also argue for different routes — not alternative facts but fact-based alternatives. It is our hope that these chapters will make current responses less convincing and render other routes more substantial, and — more than this — will reignite serious and wide-reaching debate and action among our country’s citizenry.

The first chapter, by William Cochrane, Thomas Stubbs, Mohi Rua and Darrin Hodgetts, describes the demographic composition of the New Zealand precariat, noting that this currently includes about one in six New Zealanders. James Arrowsmith, Stuart Carr, Jarrod Haar, Harvey Jones, Jane Parker and Christian Yao then define the poverty trap that keeps families stuck in a state of immobility, and how those affected can lift themselves out of it.

Wayne Hope and Jane Scott explore media representations of inequality and the framing of precarity. This is important since the media can act as a powerful platform for influencing public opinion and connecting us to one another — or pitting us against each other. The less than sympathetic characterisations of people in poverty have important implications for those seeking support and assistance. Darrin Hodgetts, Ottilie Stolte, Kerry Chamberlain and Shiloh Groot describe the criminalisation of families in need. They draw on the term ‘penal welfare’ to refer to the shift in welfare from a universal system based on citizenship rights to one that is unnecessarily cruel and punitive.

Next, Kimberly Jackson and Rebekah Graham detail the food insecurity experienced by many families and how the solutions suggested to address this basic need are woefully ignorant of the living circumstances of those affected. A further example of this lack of understanding can be seen in the responses to the blight of domestic violence, as described by Neville Robertson and Bridgette Masters-Awatere, who show that state structures actually amplify rather than ameliorate the precarity of women and their children. Finally, Mary Breheny draws our attention to the scapegoating of the elderly as the cause of contemporary youth hardship, reminding us that taking care of all members of our communities is the best way to address social issues.

1 Lakshmi Gandhi, ‘A History of “Snake Oil Salesmen”’, August 26, 2013, retrieved from http://www.npr.org/sections/codeswitch/2013/08/26/
215761377/a-history-of-snake-oil-salesmen

2 John Cromby and Martin E. H. Willis, ‘N...

Table of contents

• Cover
• TITLE PAGE
• CONTENTS
• FOREWORD
• INTRODUCTION
• PART 1: SELLING SNAKE OIL
• PART 2: NATIVE DISRUPTION: MĀORI AND THE PRECARIAT
• PART 3: ARRIVALS PAST AND PRESENT
• CONCLUSION: TOWARDS BUILDING AN EQUITABLE SOCIETY
• ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
• ABOUT THE CONTRIBUTORS
• COPYRIGHT