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The United States has interpreted poverty as an individual moral failing. The media and society have repeated that poor people "didn't try hard enough." It's an almost religious belief where success is a virtue and failure is a punishment.
The country has treated poverty as an individual responsibility rather than as the result of a system that concentrates wealth in the hands of a few and leaves millions in precarious situations. This narrative sustains the national ego and justifies blaming the hungry instead of asking why hunger exists.
The origin of this mentality stems from the Puritan Protestant work ethic that shaped the first colonists who arrived in Massachusetts from England in 1620, convinced that working tirelessly was proof of spiritual purity. From this arises the American obsession with work as a measure of moral worth. In a country where people define their identity by how much they work, resting is suspect, and receiving public assistance is shameful.
That Puritan legacy lives on. From this also stems the arrogance with which the United States judges countries with more balanced work cultures—European or Latin American—as "lazy," simply because they don't sacrifice their lives to work. What other societies consider mental health, American society sees as weakness. The American Dream has become a religion of exhaustion, illness, and stress.
For decades, the dominant narrative has repeated that receiving public assistance is a sign of laziness. However, the capitalists who preach self-sufficiency built their empires with subsidies, corporate bailouts, and tax credits. They call corporate welfare an "incentive," while society labels people with low incomes as parasites of the system.
That's how Donald Trump's father amassed his real estate fortune after the Great Depression, through federal contracts to build affordable housing with public funds. He discriminated against Black tenants, and the rents were not as affordable as he promised. In 1973, the Department of Justice sued him for racist practices.
When the wealthy receive government money, it's called an "incentive" or "stimulus." When people experiencing poverty receive it—especially if they are Black or Latino—it's called "welfare." Reagan solidified this double standard by caricaturing Black women as "welfare queens" because, supposedly, they went to the supermarket to pay with food assistance while a luxury car waited for them outside. It was racist propaganda to justify budget cuts.
Washington has treated Puerto Rico with this same contemptuous narrative. It has imposed the idea that Puerto Rico lives "off handouts" because its inhabitants don't know how to fend for themselves. And many middle-class Puerto Ricans, convinced of their supposed superiority, repeat this propaganda without noticing that their livelihood comes directly or indirectly from the same system of dependency.
For example, the school lunch program in Puerto Rico, which no one questions because it serves a vital function, is only available in the United States for low-income students. The difference is that poverty in Puerto Rico is so widespread that the entire island qualifies. The same is true for Head Start preschool programs. Puerto Ricans take both programs for granted on the island, yet they depend on federal money.
The irony of the system is revealed in times like these, when the federal government shutdown has lasted a month due to political disputes and funding for food assistance for 42 million people, including the elderly and disabled, has run out. Federal employees and air traffic controllers have also gone unpaid.
Now, as the myth of self-sufficiency crumbles, the same media outlets and the society that disdains welfare demands that the government restore the funds. Suddenly, they discover that patriotism doesn't fill their stomachs or pay their mortgages.
The hypocrisy is evident. The United States doesn't hate aid itself, as long as the assistance isn't in the hands of people experiencing poverty. Capitalists celebrate agricultural subsidies and bank bailouts as "self-sufficiency," but society condemns food assistance as "parasitism."
In Massachusetts, for example, for every five dollars supermarkets earn, one comes from customers receiving food assistance. Cash registers don't distinguish between hard-earned money and government aid.
The United States has spent so long selling itself to the world as the "land of opportunity" that it can't bear to admit its system is broken. Its moral authority, domestically, is at rock bottom. Every government shutdown reveals that the society that preaches individual responsibility is more dependent on government than it admits.

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