As you read, fill out the worksheet with your personal reactions to the reading and note when you have these reactions by writing down the page number and inspiring keyword, passage, or paragraph (e.g., “This idea reminds me of…” “I think the author is wrong about this…” “What?”)
• Summarize topic transitions and main arguments and take note of where these occur.
• Note how words are defined and when these definitions occur in the text.
38 I AUTOMATING INEQ!!AUTY
during times of economic crisis. Poor and working-c
lass people
resist restrictions of their rights, dismantle discriminatory in
sti
tutions, and join together for survival and mutual aid. But ti
me
and again they face middle-class backlash. Social assistan
ce is re
cast as charity, mutual aid is reconstructed as dependency,
and
new techniques to turn back the progress of the poor prolifera
te .
A well-funded, widely supported, and wildly successful counter
–
movement to deny basic human rights to poor and working-clas
s
people has grown steadily since the 1970s. The movement man
u
factures and circulates misleading stories about the poor: t
hat
they are an undeserving, fraudulent, dependent, and immo
ral
minority. Conservative critics of the welfare state continue to ru
n –
a very effective propaganda campaign to convince Americans t
hat __
–
the working class and the poor must battle each other in a z
ero-_
sum game over limited resources. More quietly, program
ministrators and data scientists push high-tech tools
promise to help more people, more humanely, while un_,,,.,_,.,,
efficiency, identifying fraud, and containing costs. The
poorhouse is framed as a way to rationalize and streamline
fits, but the real goal is what it has always been: to profile, vuJ«�
–,- –
and punish the poor.
2
AUTOMATING HIGIBIUTY IN
THE HEARTLAND
A little white donkey is chewing on a fencepost where we turn
coward the Stipes house on a narrow utility road paralleling
the train tracks in Tipton, Indiana. Michael “Dan” Skinner,
65-year-old ex-newspaper man and my guide to central Indiana,
heaves his mom’s 19-year-old sedan across the tracks and imo
the Stipes family’s driveway a mile or so later. Their big white
house is marooned in a sea of cornfields, but on this sunny day
.-. in March 2015, the stalks are cut back low and softened by snow
•-•· melting to mud. Kim and Kevin Stipes joke that they’ve had to
\ grow tall children: come July, the smaller ones disappear into the
\ corn. I’m here to talk to Kim and Kevin about their daughter So
/phie, who lost her Medicaid benefits during Indiana’s experiment
\with welfare eligibility automation.
\ In 2012, I delivered a lecture at Indiana University Blooming
••••- ton about how new data-based technologies were impacting pub
\ lie services. When I was finished, a well-dressed man raised his hand
and asked the question that would launch this book. “You know,”
he asked, “what’s going on here in Indiana, right?” I looked at
40 I AUTOMAUN_G INE~ALITY
him blankly and shook my head, He gave me a quick synopsis:
a $L3 billion contract to privatize and automate the state’s
welfare eligibility processes, thousands losing benefits, a high-
profile breach-of-contract case for the Indiana Supreme Court,
He handed me his card, In gold letters it identified him as Matt
Pierce, Democratic member of the Indiana House of Represen-
tatives.
Two and a half years later, the welfare automation story brought
me to the home of Sophie Stipes, a lively, sunny, stubborn girl
with dark brown hair, wide chocolate eyes, and the deep brow
characteristic of people with cerebral palsy, Shortly after she was
born in 2002, she was diagnosed with failure to thrive, global de-
velopmental delays, and periventricular leukomalacia, a white-
matter brain injury that affects newborns and fernses, She was
also diagnosed with lp36 deletion syndrome, which is believed to
affect between l in 5,000 and 1 in 10,000 newborns, She has sig-
nificant hearing loss in both ears, Kim and Kevin were told that
she might never sit up, walk, or speak, For her first two years, all
she did was lie on her back She barely moved,
Her parents contacted representatives of First Steps, a pro-
gram of the Indiana Division of Disability and Rehabilitative
Services that helps young children with developmental delays,
Through the program, Sophie received therapy and nutrition ser-
vices, and her family received counseling and support, Most
important: she had a gastronomy tube implanted to deliver nutri-
tion directly to her stomach; for the first two years of her life, she
had not been eating very much at alL Shortly afi:er they started
feeding her directly through the G-tube, Sophie began to sit up,
At the time of my 2015 visit, Sophie is 13, She gets around on
her own and goes to schooL She knows all the letters of the al-
phabec Though doctors originally told Kim that it wouldn’t
do any good to sign to her, Sophie understands 300 or 400 words
in the family’s pidgin sign language and communicates with her
AUTOMATING ELIGIEIUTY IN TH.E HEARTLAND I 41
parents and friends, Sophie has been at school all day, so she is
relaxing in her room watching Elmo’s World, wearing orange-
and-pink-striped pajamas, Kim Stipes introduces us, and we wave
hello at each other,
I ask Kim to tell Sophie that I like her pink TV, and she laughs,
signing the message, “Kudos to Sophie,” says her mom, a blond
with faded blue eyes, a gold thumb ring, and the slide-on Croes
worn by folks who spend a lot of time on their feet, “If other
kids worked half as hard, they’d all be geniuses making millions,
That’s how hard Sophie has worked,”
The Stipeses aren’t strangers to hard work In a greenhouse
made of metal tubes and plastic sheeting, Kevin cultivates heir-
loom tomatoes, broccoli, lettuce, peppers, green beans, squash, and
even peaches, They can and freeze produce to use throughout the
winter, But 2008 was a rough year, Kevin lost his job, and with it,
the family’s health insurance, He and Kim were trying to support
seven kids on what they could make selling auto parts on rhe inter-
net, Their son Max had recently been diagnosed with type I diabe-
tes, And Sophie had been very sick, throwing up all the time,
Without Medicaid Sophie’s care would have been financially
overwhelming, Her formula was incredibly expensive, She needed
specialized diapers for older children with developmental delays,
It cost $1,700 every time Sophie had a G-tube implanted, The
cost of her care exceeded $6,000 a month,
Trouble really started in late 2007, when Kim applied for the
Healthy Indiana Plan, which provides catastrophic health insur-
ance for low-income adults, Though five of their children were
covered by Medicaid, she and Kevin had no health insurance, Im-
mediately afi:er Kim started the application process, four members
of the household became ill, Kim knew that she would not be able
to fill out all the required paperwork while caring for them,
So she went to her local Family and Social Services Adminis-
tration (FSSA) office in Tipton, spoke to a caseworker, and asked
42 \ AUTOMATING INEQ.::!ALITY
to have the application put on hold. The Tipton caseworker
told her that, because of recent changes at FSSA, application
decisions were no longer made at the local level. She would have
to speak with a call center operator in Marion, 40 miles away.
Kim called the Marion office and was told that her application
“would be taken care of.” Neither the Tipton caseworker nor the
Marion call center operator told Kim that she had to sign pa-
perwork declaring that she was stopping the application pro-
cess. Nor did they tell her that her failed attempt to get healt
h
insurance for herself and her husband might impact her children’s
coverage.
Then, rhe family received a letter from the FSSA. It was ad-
dressed to six-year-old Sophie, and it informed her that she would
be kicked off Medicaid in less than a month because she had
“failed to cooperate” in establishing her eligibility for the pro-
gram. The notice somehow managed to be both terrifyingly brief
and densely bureaucratic. Ir read:
Mailing Date: 3/26/08
Dear SOPHIE STIPES 1
MA D 01 (MI]
Your MEDICAID beilefits will be discontinued
effective APRIL 30, 2008 due to the following
reason(s}:
-FAILURE TO COOPERATE IN ESTABLISHING ELIGI-
BILITY
-FAILURE TO COOPERATE IN VERIFYING INCOME
SUPPORTING LAW(S) OR REGULATION(S) :
470IAC2,l-l-2
Iffiportant : If you believe you may be eligi-
ble for Medicaid benefits under another cat-
egory and have more information about your
AUTOlvIATING ELIGIBILITY IN THE HEARTLAND I 43
case, please contact us at the number listed
at the top of this notice within ten days (13
days if this notice is received by mail) of
the date of this notice.
. The nouce arrived on April 5, 2008. It had been ten days since
it was mailed. The family had three days lefi: to contact FSSA
and correct the mistake.
Kim sprang into action, composing a lengthy letter that
explained her situation and faxing it to the Marion office on Sun-
day, April 6. In it, she stressed that Medicaid kept Sophie alive,
that she had no other insurance, and that her medical supplies
alone cost thousands of dollars a month. Sophie’s medicines were
due to run out in five days. Kim phoned the call center in Marion
and was told that Sophie was being cut off because Kim had failed
to sign the paperwork declaring that she was stopping her earlier
applications for the Healthy Indiana Plan. Kim protested that no
one had ever told her about the paperwork.
But it was too late.
According to the state oflndiana, the Stipes family had failed
to cooperate with the eligibility determination process and, under
state law, the punishment was total denial of medical benefits.
The sanction would impact both Kim and Kevin, who were try-
mg to get health insurance for themselves, and Sophie would be
demed the Medicaid she was already receiving. When Kim asked
why their other children were not being cut off, she was informed
that they were. She should expect four more letters.
. The Stipes family contacted Dan Skinner, who was spending
his retirement as a volunteer with United Senior Action, working
on behalf of elderly Hoosiers. In early 2007, United Senior Ac-
tion started getting calls from individuals and organizations all
over central Indiana: the shelves at food pantries were empty and
1,,
I
I
44 I AUTOMATING INE~LITY
the United Way was overrun by requem for emergency medical
help. Skinner began an independent investigation in Howard
County, visiting the mayor’s office, the area agency on aging,
Catholic social services, the senior center, and Mental Health
America. He found that people were losing their benefits for
“failure to cooperate” in alarming numbers.
Sophie’s case stood out to him as particularly appalling. “
She
was six years old, and she was recovering. She learned how to sign.
She was starting to walk!” Skinner said. “She was starting to be
able to eat a little bit, and they said when she could rake 3,000
calories, they would take the feeding tube out. She was right at
that stage, and her Medicaid was cut off for failure to cooperate.”
By the time the Stipes family reached him, Skinner remembered,
they were in a desperate situation and needed immediate action.
Dan called John Cardwell, founder and director of The Gen-
erations Project, an organization dedicared to addressing long-
term health-care issues in the state oflndiana. The two gathered
their colleagues from the AARP and the Alliance for Retired
Americans, lobbied their contacts, worked the media, and called
an emergency press conference. Dan took Sophie and her parents
to the Indianapolis State House in a van. “She had a little dress
on,” Kim Stipes remembers. “She was not a happy camper then.
Her little life was rough.” They walked into the governor’s office
with Sophie in her wheelchair and “TV cameras in tow,” said
Skinner. “They didn’t expect that.”
At one point, Governor Mitch Daniels walked right by the
group. “He did have an opportunity, quite frankly, to walk right
over to us,” Skinner recalled. “He just walked by. Mitch Roob
[Secretary of the FSSA] was with him. They just stared at us and
kept on going.” Kevin Stipes yelled across the room to Daniels,
inviting him to come talk with his family. But the governor and
FSSA secretary failed to acknowledge them. “They get to that
AUTOMATING ELIGIBILITY 1N TH.E HEARTLAND I 45
position they don’t want to deal with chat stuff They want lay-
ers,” Kevin theorized later, “They want people in between.” The
group asked for Lawren Mills, Governor Daniels’ policy direc-
tor for human services, who agreed to meet with them. The next
day at four o’clock in the afternoon, Sophie had her Medicaid
back.
Sophie’s family was not alone. In 2006, Republican governor
Mitch Daniels instituted a welfare reform program that relied on
multinational corporations to streamline benefits applications,
privatize casework, and identify fraud. Daniels had long been a foe
of public assistance. In 1987, while serving as President Ronald
Reagan’s assistant for Political and Intergovernmental Affairs, he
had been a high-profile supporter of a failed attempt to eliminate
AFDC. Nearly 20 years later, he tried to eliminate TANF in Indi-
ana. But this time he did it through high-tech tools, not policy-
making.
Governor Daniels famously applied a Yellow Pages test to
government services. If a product or service is listed in the Yellow
Pages, he insisted, the government shouldn’t provide it. So it was
not surprising when, shortly after his election in 2004, Daniels
began an aggressive campaign to privatize many of the state’s
public services, including the Indiana Toll Road, the Bureau of
Motor Vehicles, and the state’s public assistance programs.
Daniels appointed Mitch Roob as FSSA secretary. In The
Indianapolis Stat, Daniels praised Raab, then a vice president at
Affiliated Computer Services (ACS), as being” deeply committed
to_ the interests of the least fortunate among us and equally com-
mitted to getting the most service from every tax dollar.” As their
first order of business, Roob and his boss commissioned an audit
of what Daniels called in a 2007 South Bend Tribune editorial
“the monstrous bureaucracy known as the Family and Social
46 I AUTOMATING INEQYALITY
Service Administration.” As agency’s audit report was released
in June 2005, two FSSA employees were arrested and charged
with theft, welfare fraud, and a panoply of other offenses. One of
the employees was accused of collaborating with church leaders
of the Greater Faith Missionary Baptist Church in Indianapolis
to collect $62,497 in food stamps and other welfare benefits
by creating dummy accounts for herself and fellow church
parishioners. Between them, the two caseworkers had 45 years of
experience at the FSSA.
Daniels seized the political moment, In public speeches, press
releases, and reports, the governor repeatedly characterized Indi-
ana’s welfare system as “irretrievably broken,” wasteful, fraudu-
lent, and “America’s worst welfare system.” Citing the system’s
high error rate and poor customer service, Mitch Roob criss-
crossed the state arguing that the system was broken beyond
the ability of state employees to fix. In early 2006, the Daniels
administration released a request for proposal (RFP) to out-
source and automate eligibility processes for T ANF, food
stamps, and Medicaid. In the request, the state set very clear
goals: reduce fraud, curtail spending, and move clients off the
welfare rolls.
“The State is aware that poor policy and operations have con-
tributed to a culture of welfare dependency among some of its cli-
ents,” the RFP read. “Respondent will help address this issue by
agreeing to use welfare eligibility and other programs to help cli-
ents reduce dependency on welfare assistance and transition into a
paid work setting.” While the state provided no incentives or sup-
port for matching applicants to available jobs, the RFP suggested
that the FSSA would be willing to provide extra financial incen-
tives for finding and denying ineligible cases. The state offered to
“pay the Respondent for superior performance,” for example, if
the company can “reduce ineligible cases” by identifying “client
misrepresentations.”
AUTOMATING ELIGIBILITY .iiN THE HEARTLAND I 47
At the time, the Indiana FSSA was helping about a million
people access health care, social services, mental health counsel-
ing, and other forms of support. The 2006 agency was sizable: it
had a budget of $6.55 billion and a staff of approximately 6,500.
But it was much smaller than it had been 15 years earlier. In 1991,
the Indiana General Assembly consolidated the departments of
Mental Health, Public Welfare, and Human Services, and out-
sourced many of its functions. By the time of the automation, the
FSSA had halved its public workforce and was spending 92 percent
of its budget buying setvices from outside vendors.
Everyone-advocares, applicants, administrators, and legisla-
tors alike-agreed that the existing system faced serious chal-
lenges, FSSA offices were using an extremely out-of-date system
called the Indiana Client Eligibility System (ICES) for daily ad-
minisrrative functions such as calculating eligibiliry and verify-
ing income. Customer service was uneven at best. A 2005 survey
found that applicants faced a slow intake process, a telephone sys-
tem that rarely worked, and caseworkers who were difficult to
reach. A US. Department of Agriculture (USDA) smdy found
that food stamp applicants made up to four visits to county of
fices before receiving program benefits. Overstretched staff
couldn’t handle demand or keep up with towering piles of paper
case files. 1
The Daniels administration insisted that moving away from
face-to-face casework and toward electronic communication
would make offices more organized and more efficient. Even bet-
ter, they argued, moving paper shuflling and data collection to a
private contractor would free remaining state caseworkers to
work more closely with clients. Daniels and Roob built a compel-
lmg case. And people listened.
However, many ofDaniels’s other assertions about the failures
of FSSA have been contested, His claim that Indiana’s welfare
system was the worst in the country, for example, was based only
48 \ AUTOMATING INEQ!:!AUTY
on the state’s record for moving Hoosiers off welfare. It is true
that Indiana reduced the number of people on public assistance
more slowly than other states in the decade after the 1996 welfare
reforms. But Indiana had seen a significant drop in the welfare
rolls years earlier. In the three years between the installation of
ICES and the implementation of federal welfare reform, Indi-
ana’s caseload fell 23 percent. As Daniels began his term, only a
tiny proportion of poor Hoosiers-38 percent-were receiving
benefits from TANF, and only 74 percent of qualified individu-
als were receiving food stamps. Despite the administration’s insis-
tence that eligibility errors were spiraling out of control, the FSSA
reported food stamp error rates consistent with national averages.
The positive error rate-which measures those who receive bene-
fits for which they are not actually eligible-was 4.4 percent. The
negative error rate-which describes those who apply for benefits
and are incorrectly denied them-was 1.5 percent.
Only two bids were submitted for the contract, one from
Accenture LLC and the other from a coalition of companies
called the Hoosier Coalition for Self-Sufficiency. The coalition
was led by IBM and ACS, Roob’s former employer. Accenture
dropped out of the bidding process. On December 27, 2006,
after holding a single public hearing on the topic, the governor
signed a ten-year, $1.16 billion contract with the IBM/ACS
coalition.
In a press release celebrating the plan, Daniels announced,
“Today, we act to clean up welfare waste, and to provide Indiana’s
neediest people a better chance to escape welfare for the world of
work and dignity. We will make America’s worst welfare system
better for the people it serves, a much fairer deal for taxpayers,
and for its own employees.”2 According to the Daniels adminis-
tration, the modernization project would improve access to
services for needy, elderly, and disabled people while saving taxc
AUTOMATING .EHGrn1uTY IN THE HEARTLAND I 49
payers’ money. It would do this by automating welfare eligibility
processes: substituting online applications for face-to-face inter-
actions, building centralized call centers throughout the state,
and “transitioning” 1,500 state employees to private telephone
call centers run by ACS.
Daniels lauded his privatization plan and the automated
system in the 2007 South Bend Tribune editorial. “Today’s wel-
fare system … is totally indefensible,” he wrote. “For Hoosier
taxpayers, reform means enormous savings: a half billion dollars
over the next 10 years, and that’s only on the administrative side.
When today’s high rates of errors and fraud are brought down,
savings will probably exceed $1 billion.”3 By March, 70 percent of
the FSSA workforce had moved to positions with private con-
tractors. In October the Indiana automation project rolled om
to 12 pilot counties in north central Indiana.
In the first nine weeks of the pilot, 143,899 people called the toll-
free number and 2,858 applied online. System failures were
immediate. “The telephone appointment system was a disaster,”
remembered_Jamie Andree of Indiana Legal Services, an organ-
1zat10n providing legal assistance to low-income Hoosiers. “An
interview would be scheduled from 10 to 12 in the morning.
People would have to find a phone, sit by it, and wait to be called.
Then the call wouldn’t come, or they’d call at II:45 saying [the
mterv1ew] 1s being rescheduled for tomorrow.”
Applicants who had taken time off work were often unable to
wait by the phone the next day for a new appointment. Others
received notices that required them to participate in phone inter-
views scheduled for dares that had already passed. According to a
2010 USDA report, a food stamp (called the Supplemental Nutri-
tion Assistance Program, or SNAP, after 2008) recipient added the
call center number to her cell phone plan’s “friends and family”
i:J
so I AUTOMATING INEQ.gALITY
because she spent so much time on phone with them. Ap-
plicants who failed to successfully complete their phone intervkw
were terminated for failing to cooperate in eligibility determma-
tion. Says Andree, “It was a terrible, terrible, terrible system.”
Private call center workers were not adequately trained to deal
with the severity of challenges faced by callers, nor were they pro-
vided with sufficient information about applicable regulations.
Advocates report call center operators bursting into tears on
the phone. “The first person I called under modernization, I re-
member it vividly,” reported Terry West, a patient advocate with
15 years’ experience in central Indiana. “She was young, and· · ,
did not have any experience whatsoever. … There was a problem,
a denial of a case. I talked to this young lady for about an hour. I
kept citing [ the appropriate regulations]. After about a half an
hour, she just started crying. She said, ‘I don’t know what I’m
doing.’ That’s exactly what she told me. I said, ‘Look, it’s okay. I
was a caseworker. I’m reading right out of your policy manual
what has to be done.’ She just cried.”
Millions of copies of drivers’ licenses, social security cards,
and other supporting documents were faxed to a centralized
document processing center in Grant County; so many of them
disappeared that advocates started calling it “the black hole in
Marion.” Each month the number of verification documents that
vanished-were not attached properly ro digital case files in a pro-
cess called “indexing” -rose exponentially. According to court
documents, in December 2007 just over 11,000 documents were
unindexed. By February 2009, nearly 283,000 documents had
disappeared, an increase of 2,473 percent. The rise in technical
errors far outpaced increased system use. The consequences are
staggering if you consider chat any single missing document could
cause an applicant robe denied benefits.
Performance metrics designed to speed eligibility determina-
tions created perverse incentives for call center workers to close
AUTOMATING ELIGIBILITY IN nm HEARTLAND I 51
cases prematurely. Timeliness could be improved by denying ap-
plications and then advising applicants ro reapply, which required
that they wait an additional 30 or 60 days for a new determination.
Some administrative snafus were simple mistakes, integration
problems, and technical glitches. But many errors were the result
of inflexible rules that interpreted any deviation from the newly
rigid application process, no matter how inconsequential or inad-
vertent, as an active refusal to cooperate.
The automation’s impacts were devastating for poor and
working-class Hoosiers. Between 2006 and 2008, the state ofln-
diana denied more than a million applications for food stamps,
Medicaid, and cash benefits, a 54 percent increase compared to
the three years prior to automation.
Michelle “Shelli” Birden, a soft-spoken and serious young woman
from Kokomo, lost her benefits during the automation experi-
ment. Shelli was diagnosed with epilepsy at six months of age;
by the time she reached adulthood, she was suffering as many as
five grand ma! seizures a day. Despite having surgery to implant a
vagus nerve stimulator-something like a pacemaker for the
brain-she was still, in her own words, “violently ill” when the
modernization hit. In late April 2008 she received a recertifica-
tion notice from the FSSA. She faxed her response, a pile of forms,
and other documentation eight days later. On June 25, Shelli re-
ceived a letter dated June 12 informing her that her Medicaid
benefits would be discontinued in five days for “failure to cooper-
ate m establishing eligibility.”
The failure to cooperate notice had originally been sent to an
outdated address, which delayed its delivery. Now Shelli, in a
panic, phoned the call center. An ACS worker told her to try to
correct her application online. When that failed, she and her
boyfriend Jeff Stewart phoned the call center several more times,
trying to identify the problem. “I started reading her letters to
52 I AUTOMATING INEQ:g.ALITY
figure our what to do, and where to go, and who to call,” Jeff re-
membered, “but you couldn’t get anywhere on the phone. It was
like you were talking to a computer instead of a person:” .
On July 11, call center operators connected Shelli with one
of the few remaining state caseworkers in Marion, who told her
that she had neglected to sign a required form but did not tell
her which one. By this point, she was starting to run out of
her anticonvulsant medications. She would have to find a free
source for her drugs, which cost close to $800 a month, or risk
violent seizures, panic attacks, dizziness, insomnia, blurred vi-
sion, and an increased risk of death from going off them cold
turkey. .
Shelli contacted the United Way, which ptovided her with a
few days of emergency medication. The staff also advised her to
immediately file an appeal of the “failure to cooperate” determi-
nation. She reached out to the Marion office again, on July 14,
and asked to lodge an appeal. But she was informed that the 30-
day deadline to contest the June 12 decision had passed. It was
too late to appeal the FSSA’.s decision. She’d have to reapply.
A new determination would take 45 days. She had three days
of medication left.
The governor and the FSSA promised that an autom~ted eligibil-
ity system would offer increased client control, a fairer applica-
tion process, and more timely decisions. The problem with the
existing caseworker-centered system, as they saw it, was twofold.
First, caseworkers spent more time manually processing papers
and collecting data than “using their social work expertise to help
clients.” Second, rhe outdated data system allowed caseworkers to
collude with outside co-conspirators to illegally obtain benefits
and defraud taxpayers. The old system involved caseworkers_ de-
veloping one-on-one relationships with individuals and families
and following cases through to completion. The new system was
AUTOMATING ELIGIBILITY rn THE HEARTLAND I 53
“self-serve,” technology-focused, and presented call center
ers with a list of tasks to complete rather than a docker of families
to serve. No one worker had oversight of a case from beginning to
end; when clients called the 1-800 number, they always spoke to a
new worker. Because the Daniels administration saw relation-
ships between caseworkers and clients as invitations to fraud, the
system was designed to sever those links.
The FSSA packed up all its existing records and moved them
to a central storage facility in Indianapolis. These paper records
were set aside in case the state needed them for appeal hearings,
but were not scanned into the modernized system. All current
recipients of TANF, food stamps/SNAP, and Medicaid were re-
quired to turn in all their supporting documentation again, no
matter how long they had been receiving benefits. “All of the doc-
uments that identified the members of the household-birth cer-
tificates and that sort of thing-were in the local office until the
modernization. And then they were gone,” remembered Jamie
Andree. “It was as if they had never existed. So one of the things
that happened with modernization is that people [were] asked to
turn in [obscure] stuff, like the tide to a vehicle that they hadn’t
owned smce 1988. They were being asked to turn in things that
the agency already had.”
When clients did manage to find decades-old documents, de-
lays between the document center receiving paperwork and the
contractors processing it were consistently interpreted as the fault
of the applicant. Chris Holly, a Medicaid attorney in Blooming-
ton, estimated that 95 percent of the Medicaid applications he
handled during the automation resulted in eligibility determina-
tion errors. According to Holly, all the errors were generated by
the state and its contractors, not his clients. “We knew we had
submitted everything by the deadline,” he said in December of
2014, “and we were still getting denials for failure to cooperate”
I l .
t wou d take three or four days for documentation to get
ii
ii
I’ ,,’
54 j AUTOMATING INEQ:gALITY
Th Id deny it on the d b ,, h never waited. ey wou
processe , ut t ey . d . f l et denied, they assume
[d
di’ ] r even before. An 1 peop e g , .
ea me , o . , . Th ‘II accept that they re JUSt
the system knows what its domg. ey
ineligible and give up.” h . their health insurance
1 · t foug t to retam
Still, many app ,can s f idable odds. Like Shelli, they
or food assistance against these orm c t out a single error in
. d · t yingto rerre
became tenacious etecnves, r f es Failure to cooper-
!. . · gdozens o pag · complex app ,canons runnm . l d that some-
cc d 1· l uuidance They s1mp Y state
ate notices orrere itt e ” . . . h t speciiftcally was
. h . h n apphcanon, not W a
thing was not ng twit a . d ·lleoible? Was
. sing lost unsigne , or l ,r
wrong. Was a document mis , , , “Failure to
. h FSSA or the contractor.
it the fault of the chent, t e h ‘ ,, · d Glenn Cardwell, a re-
h t’ve p rase, note cooperate was t e opera ‘ l’ . in Vigo County,
k d administrator now ,vmg
tired casewor er an . , . bl m and not the city, ,not the
“because then it was the clients pro e
contractor.” . k s or omissions in an ap-
Under the previous system, m1sta e . equiring case-
bl and nme-consummg, r
plication were trou esome d cuments like birth
workers and clients to collaborate tofsecfure ome social security
d . l ts proo o mco , certificates, me ,ca repor , d . t’on they had some-
. ”B fi mo ern1za 1 ,
cards, and rental receipts.. e ore . d this notice. What do I
11 d ‘Listen I receive one to ca up an say, ‘ . R “And the an-
d
, ,, 11 d ACLU attorney Gavm ose.
need to al reca e . . ht now I’ll make sure
‘R . d wn to me fax it over ng ·
swer was un it o , f h’ , ,, Before the auroma-
. Iii d ‘II take care o t is.
it gets m your e an we ,, h d been a last-ditch punishment
tion, “failure to cooperate a . h . ly re•used to par-
d . few clients w o acuve J’
caseworkers use agamst a Aft the automation, the
. h 1· ‘b’l’ty process. er
ticipate m t e e ,g1 ‘ ! h !fare rolls, no
phrase became a chain saw that clearcut t e we
matter the collateral damage.
lk. bout what she remembers as
Shelli Birden was wary of ta mg a. . . of her life. Ulric
one of the most confusing and ternfymg times
AUTOMATING ELIGIB1UTY IN THE HEARTLAND I 55
mately she discovered the signature she had missed. “I had
to go back through my papers,” she said. “l always copied my pa-
pers. l missed one question, and boom, they shut me off.” When
we spoke in 2015, she remembered feeling completely alone in
a life-threatening situation. “They didn’t give us enough infor-
mation,” she said. “They didn’t send us in with our social work-
ers anymore. They made us do it on our own.”
But Shelli, as smart and tenacious as she is, didn’t do it entirely
on her own. She received help from advocate Dan Skinner, whose
contacts with FSSA staff fast-tracked solutions. Her boyfriend
took on navigating the debacle like it was a second job. She re-
ceived help from the United Way, which provided advice and
support. Birden was reinstated to Medicaid on July 17. She re-
ceived her medication in time to save her life. Seven years later,
with her health stabilized, Shelli was holding a job at Wal-Marc.
‘Tm doing really good,” she said. ‘Tm actually able to get back to
work, and I feel like my life matters.”
But many orhers were not so lucky. “As attorneys, we had ac-
cess ro people that could fix things,” noted Chris Holly. “But
average well-meaning people that needed help? They were the
ones that suffered the most.” Jane Porter Gresham, a retired
caseworker with nearly 30 years’ experience at FSSA, agreed.
“The most vulnerable of our population-the parents of children
who didn’t have food to eat, who needed medical treatment, and
the disabled who were not able to speak for themselves-were
the ones who iook it on the chin, took it in the gut, and in the
heart.”
Lindsay Kidwell of Windfall also lost public benefits during the
modernization experiment. Six months after giving birth to her
first child, Maddox, in December 2008, Lindsay was informed
that she was due to recertify for food stamps/SNAP and Hoosier
Healthwise, Indiana’s Medicaid program for low-income parents,
56 \ AUTOMATING 1NEQEAL1TY
and children. She participated in a phone inter-
pregnant women, k . n Marion, who
. December 10 with a call center wor er 1 h
view on d d rovide Among t e
told her what documentation she nee e to P . J k Wil-
b for her partner, ac
documents requested were pay stu s h Buck-
d b t $400 a week before taxes at t e l’ who ma e a ou h’
,ams, d Lounge Lindsay faxed everyt mg except
horn Restaurant an . D b 19 because
h stubs to the document center on ecem er ‘
J
t ekpay ‘d by bank check and didn’t have any stubs. His boss at
ac got pa1 fi d h w to sup-
lled the document center to n out o
t~e Bucl17~i~~aaes. Following their directions, she wrote out a
P y proo o “d d faxed them to the document
list of paychecks an amounts an
center on December 23. . d d’ al biH informing her
Januar 2 Lindsay receive a me lC On y ‘ b d . d d that she would be re-
M d’ ‘dh d een en1e, an
that her e 1ca1 a f k t ror her recent postnatal
l f · $246 out o poc e r, sponsib e or paymg d grocery shopping on
Wh h went out to o some
check-up4 h e~~; card-the debit-like card holding her food
January , er . J ar 15 she received
/SNAP benefits-was denied. On anu y ‘ stamp
a letter from FSSA.
Mailing Date: 1/13/09
Dear LINDSAY K KIDWELL,
FSOl (XD)
D STAMPS dated DECEM-
Your application for FOO
BER 10, 2008 has been denied.
not eligible because: You are
To COOPERATE IN VERIFYING INCOME -FAILURE
SUPPORTING LAW(S) OR REGULATION(S)
7CFR273.2(d)
MA C 01 (MI)
HEALTHWISE benefits will be Your HOOSIER
AUTOMATING ELIGIBILITY IN THE HEARTLAND I 57
discontinued effective JANUARY 31, 2009 due to
the following reason(s):
-FAILURE TO COOPERATE IN VERIFYING INCOME
SUPPORTING LAW(S) OR REGULATION(S) : 470IAC2.
1-1-2
A week later, well within the 13-daywindow to submit the “miss-
ing” documents, Lindsay went to her local Tipton County FSSA
office, submitting a more complete listing of wages and photo-
copies of Jack’s last three paychecks.
Lindsay had the wage report and canceled paychecks stamped
“Received” and asked for a copy. She watched the employee scan
her paperwork into the system and took a copy of the “Scan Suc-
cessful” notice confirming it was received by the document cen-
ter. She also filed an appeal of the earlier “failure to cooperate”
determinations. If she began a fair hearing process, her food
stamps/SNAP and Medicaid would be reinstated until an ad-
ministrative law judge ruled whether or not the decision to termi-
nate her benefits was correct.
The Tipton County worker told Lindsay that she should file a
new application for benefits rather than an appeal. It would be
faster and easier, she insisted. Lindsay refused. She didn’t want to
reapply; she wanted to appeal what she saw as an incorrect FSSA
decision.
Three weeks later she received a phone call from a young man
who informed her that she would receive a notice in the mail
soon-a hearing on her Medicaid case had been scheduled. Then
he advised her to drop her appeal. He was looking in the com-
puter, he said, and because Lindsay had never submitted payroll
information for Jack, she would lose her case. But Lindsay had
copies of his payroll information stamped “Received.” She had
the canceled checks and the scan confirmation. Ir must be some
58 \ AUTOMATING lNE~ALITY
kind of mistake, she insisted. It didn’t matter. Lindsay recalls that
the man on the phone simply said, “I found no documentation of
recent payroll information in the computer. The judge will simply
look in the computer, see this, and deny you.”
One of the great victories of the welfare rights movement of the
1960s and ’70s was the redefinition of welfare benefits as the per-
sonal property of the recipient, rather than as charity that can be
bestowed or denied on a whim. Activists successfully challenged
inequitable access to public assistance by appealing decisions and
demanding access to administrative law procedures known as fair
hearings.
In 1968, eight individuals denied due process in New York
launched a class action lawsnit chat led to a Snpreme Court deci-
sion in Goldberg v. Kelly. This landmark case found that all wel·
fare recipients h.ave a right to an evidentiary hearing-a proc_ess
that includes timely and adequate notice, disclosure of opposmg
evidence, an impartial decision-maker, cross-examination of wit-
nesses, and the right to retain legal representation-before their
benefits can be terminated.
By successfully reframing public benefits as property rather
than charity, the welfare rights movement established that public
assistance recipients must be provided due process under the
Fourteenth Amendment of the Constitution. The case hinged on
the understanding, expressed by Justice William Brennan, that
abrupt termination of aid deprives poor people of both their
means of survival and their ability to mount an adequate chal-
lenge to government decisions. “From its founding, the Nation’s
basic commitment has been to foster the dignity and well-bemg
of all persons within its borders,” Brennan wrote. “Public assis-
tance, then, is not mere charity, but a means to ‘promote the gen-
eral Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and
P
. ,,,4
our ostenty.
AUTOMATING ELlGIBIUTY IN THE HEARTLAND 1 59
. ‘Il;e far-reaching and fundamenral changes introduced by In-
diana s automated system put it on an inevitable collision course
with the poor’s right to due process guaranteed by Goldberg. A
class action lawsuit, Perdue v. Murphy, was filed by Gavin Rose
and Jacquelyn Bowie Suess, staff artorneys from the ACLU of
Indiana, on behalf of more than a dozen individuals in north
central Indiana who had lost their Medicaid, food stamps/
SNAP, or TANF assistance for failure to cooperate. The case
explicitly challenged the loss of due process under the automated
system.
The ACLU alleged chat notices were incomplete, “failure to
cooperate” was being used too broadly, and the new caseworkerless
system denied the disabled equal access to public programs. They
also claimed that the last resort of wrongly denied applicants-a
fair heanng-was made increasingly difficult to access. Call cen-
ter workers defaulted to the decisions of the automated system
over the administrative law process, discouraging appeals in favor
of reapplication, and failed to notify applicants of their rights.
Applicants felt that they had nowhere to turn for redress.
Ali:er successes for the ACLU in lower courts, Perdue v. Mur-
phy eventually went to che Indiana Supreme Court, which found
that the state’s” failure to cooperate” notices were unconstitutional
and did not provide adequate due process protections. But, re·
versing a lower court’s decision, Indiana’s highest court held
that the ‘,;ate does have a right to deny applicants for “failure to
cooperate because at some point “failing” and “refusing” to coop-
erate converge. The case forced the FSSA to create more complete
and specific notices, but did little to return the individualized at-
tention of caseworkers to the Indiana eligibility process, or to
stop the use of”failure to cooperate” to clearcut the rolls.
“The judge will simply look in the computer … and deny you,”
the call center operator said to Lindsay Kidwell in February 2009.
60 \ AUTOMATING INE~ALITY
The words were a nightmare. Despire rhe fact that she had
stamped proof that she submitted all the appropriate payroll mfor-
mation, Lindsay wavered. Should she cancel her appeal? If she lost,
she’d be responsible for repaying all the benefits she received while
waiting for a decision-months of medical and food bills.
Even though Lindsay knew she was in the right, there was no
guarantee she would win the case. A loss would mean more debt
for her young family. She asked the man on the phone if she could
talk to an advisor before deciding whether or not to contmue her
appeal. He said, “No. I need an answer now. Are you going or
not?” Gathering her courage, she re-affirmed that she wanted a
fair hearing.
He hung up on her.
Lindsay remembered that the appeal hearing was ~retry
straightforward. “I went to my appeal,” she said in 2017. ,:’ey
said basically that rhey messed up. I didn’t owe them money. Her
family met all of the eligibility requirements of the program;
their Hoosier Healrhwise and food stamp benefits were officially
reinstated.
But her experience with the FSSA still haunts her today. Her
family was self-supporting for nearly a decade after the eligibility
automation. Then she went through a divorce. When I spoke
with her in 2017, she knew she was probably eligible for help from
FSSA. ‘Tm going through a tough time,” she said. ‘Tm a singk
mom. I work full rime, but it doesn’t always cut it.” Her expen-
ence during the automation makes Lindsay hesitant to apply for
benefits again. “They make it so difficult. Ifl applied now I could
probably get it, but that experience with being dented · · · I ,mean,
I cried. I did everything that they asked me to do. I don t even
know if it’s worth the stress.”
Applicants for TANF, food stamps/SNAP, and Medicaid were
not the only Hoosiers impacted by the shift to automated
AUTOMATING ELIGIBILJTY IN THE HEARTLAND j 61
decision-making. That’s why I traveled to Fort Wayne in
March 2015 to talk to caseworkers about their experience with
the Indiana experiment.
Fort Wayne, the second-largest city in Indiana, is in the
northeast, 18 miles west of Ohio and 50 miles south of Michigan.
General Electric and International Harvester had factories there
that closed or scaled their workforces back significantly during
the 1970s and 1980s. Driving to my first appointment of the after-
noon, I pass the local headquarters of the National Association of
Letter Carriers; George’s International Market with its incredible
selection of house-made salsas and bottled hot sauces; and Uncle
Lou’s Steel Mill Tavern, which sports a sign in the window that
reads “Honk if you like beer.” I cross the railroad tracks and the
St. Marys River, swollen from recent Hooding, into a neighbor-
hood of modest two-story houses.
Jane Porter Gresham welcomes me into her tidy white home,
where we sit on a blue velveteen couch in het front parlor.
Gresham’s wooden cross contrasts sharply with her matching
bluet-shirt and cardigan set. Gresham worked for the FSSA for
26 years, from 1985 to 2011, when she retired in the wake of the
automation. Even four years later, rage and frustration Ricker
across her round face as we speak. “People who are [at FSSA] for
the first time, you can see it in their eyes-fear. Fear of what I’m
going to do. People say to me, ‘I never thought I’d have to be
here.’ They’re not trying to cheat the system; they don’t know
where else to turn. Our responsibility as public employees is to
make certain that people who are eligible get the benefits they’re
entitled to.”
With decades of experience and seniority, Gresham managed
to hold on to her state job when the automation rolled out to Al-
len County. But under the new system, she no longer carried a
caseload. Rather, she responded to tasks that were assigned by the
new WorkRow Management System (WFMS). Tasks bounced
62 \ AUTOMATING INE~ALITY
between 1,500 new ACS employees and 682 remaining state em-
ployees, now known as “state eligibility consultants.”
The governor promised that no state workers would lose their
jobs due to the automation and that salaries would stay the same
or rise. But the reality of the new ACS positions created a wave
of retirements and resignations. After reapplying for jobs they al-
ready held, sometimes for decades, and submitting to criminal
background checks and drug tests, workers found their positions
moved from their home county office to a regional call center,
They were offered moving bonuses if their new job was more than
50 miles from their current work site, but many declined to up-
root their lives for the insecure new positions.
Under the eligibility automation, no single employee “owned”
or oversaw a case; staff were responsible for responding to tasks
that dropped into their queue in the WFMS, Cases were not
handled in the county where applicants lived. Now, any employee
could take any call from any county using the new system, even
if they knew nothing about the caller’s local context, “We got
calls from all over the state,” says Gresham, “I had never heard of
Floyds Knobs [in southeastern Indiana] until we started that pro-
cess! I had no idea of services that were available in that area,”
Reducing casework to a task-based system is dehumanizing,
she suggests, for both worker and client, “Ifl wanted to work in a
factory, I would have worked in a factory. , , , You were expected
to produce, and you couldn’t do that if you listened to the client’s
story,” The majority of clients Gresham saw during her long career
were traumatized-by flood or fire, illness or accident, domestic
violence or extended unemployment. “People who have gone
through a trauma want some hope that it’s going to get better,
That somebody’s paying attention, that they’re not in this alone,”
she says, “That’s what I think we did [before the automation], We
listened to what they had to say and acted on it so that things
could get better.”
AUTOMATING ELIGIBILITY IN THE HEARTLAND I 63
“W’I e oecame slaves to the task system,” said Fred Gilbert o
year FSSA employee . J” , , a ~o-h . . spena tz.n.ng in refugee assistance “L’k
ot er private call center, it’s ‘just the facts’ B t , I e any
is very complicated, That’s the , b f , u the welfare system
wade through the mess,” JO o caseworkers, to help people
ThegovernorandtheIBM/'”CS al’, , , n co monpromi d · 1
dec1s1ons, more efficient use of resources and b tt se more time y
vice B t k ‘ e er customer ser-
1
, u casewor ers experienced cascading technical fail
exp osron of errors that slo d , ures, an
poorly trained private wor;:rs :;hr;r;,1s:::e~h3;!’plicbaltions,a hnd
created on t h . pro ems t ey
ACS ·k o t e remaming public employees. Mistakes made by
wm ers were referred to state worke fi ,
an omsized workload on the handf l fl rs or correction, piling
remained, u O ong-terrn employees that
By summer 2009, there was a back! f and 6 500 J og O nearly 32,000 cases
‘ peop e were waiting for ap l h .
to their month! pea eanngs. According
y management reports th FSSA
incredibl hi h £ d ‘ e was reporting
B y g oo stamp eligibility error rates to the USDA
etween 2006 and 2008 h b’ · 1 d f ‘ t e com med error rate more than t ,
Pe ‘ rom 5.9 percent to 19 4 M n-
h
, , percent, ost of that growth ,
t e negative error rate: 12 2 P f h was m , ercent o t ose ap I , f, f, d
stamps were being incorrectly denied The t t ‘ f ymg or oo
for food st d , . ‘ s a es ong wait times
penalties f:::h:~~~:~ttracted notice and threats of financial
sic The pressure to keep timeliness numbers high to fulfill the ba-
reqmremenrs of the contract combined , h backlo f I ‘ wit an ever-growing
habitu:I :d cases£ ed to mass application denials and the now-
vice rom call center workers to “·us ,,
Gilbert reflected “Th I b b J t reapply, Fred
send something ;n e rufeshecame rittle, If[applicants] didn’t
, one o t lfty docum ,
the case for failure to comply y; ;dnt~, you simply closed
to help somebody,” , , , , ou cou n t go out of your way
oom, ane orter Gresham turns ren . , necnve. Back in her living r J p
64 I AUTOMATING INE~ALITY
he streer· If you want
“It didn’t take long for word to get out on t b, h
, to the office [in person] ecause t ey
your benefits on nme, go ,, h “We were
have to give you a face-to-~:e :~~;i;~:~~:, ~ase ~:::~ing every-
inundated with people w d W didn’t save
b d d
We didn’t save space an rent, e
0 y own, , , , d,,
k W were inundated at the en , wor ers, , , , e d h wn health be-
G resham saw great workers burn out, an er o Id ‘t
11 , 1 w There cou n d , t “Morale was at an a -time o ,
gan to etenora e. ‘ e an camaraderie. It was just you
be reassurance, there couldn t b y d h d I realized this
” , f 11 “Towar s t e en ‘
out there, she says wist u y, , h’
1
one of the last
was affecting my health, my relations ips, was
holdouts,”
d l · ng class families
When failed by FSSA, Indiana’s poor an wor G h- h F ed
! and eac ot er. ac 1· d on local governments, vo unteers, ,
re ie l , , f help recalcitrant state
with lines of desperate peop e wamng or ‘ k Hoosiers
ncies and dismissive private call center wor ers, .
;:: ht back One of the centers of their resistance was M~nte,
lnl:ana, the largest city in the automation experiments rst
pilot area, h h “Middletown, USN’ pro-
Following State Route 32 t roug , Th ban-
vides a drive-by tour of the city’s recent ind::~:~~:::he t::n as
doned million-square-foot BorgWarner,pla 1 d 5 000 people
Y
ou arrive from the west. In the 1950s, it emp oye 1 ‘ d , 2009
F d k but 1t c ose m , assembling transmissions for or true s, sphalt
, h 11 by an enormous a
Two miles later on your ng t, you ro de the fa-
field site of the old General Motors plant, Wodrkers ma, , n for
‘ M , M-22 “Rock Crusher” four-spee transmissio
mous unc1e 1 d · 2006
h le cars of the 1960s there, but the plant c ose m .
t e muse h , b board in the Center
When I visited Muncie in 2015, t e JO ,r d ly a
T ‘ office ouere on
Township of Delaware County rustee s d’ food
· · , gardener custo ian, handful of employment opportunities, ‘
service, Pepsi delivery,
AUTOMATING ELIGIBILITY IN THE HEARTLAND I 65
The state of Indiana is broken up into l,008 six-square-mile
townships, each with a local government office funded by prop-
erty taxes and run by a township board and an elected trustee,
Though each township office works a little differently, one of their
primary responsibilities is to manage local poverty relief Almost
immediately afi:er its rollout in October 2007, the failures of the
automated system overwhelmed the Delaware County Trustee’s
office, “People were devastated,” Lead Case Coordinator Kim
Murphy said, “I mean they were just lost, Lost, lost, lost,” Al-
ready suffering through the rash of plant closures, Muncie fami-
lies were now getting kicked off food stamps, cash assistance, and
Medicaid, “They were confused, and they didn’t know where to
turn,” said Marilyn “Kay” Walker, Center Township trustee, “There
was no case management, no personal connection, no communi-
cation among agencies, It was just the biggest mess,”
According to the lvluncie Star Press, by February 2008, the
number of households receiving food stamps in Delaware County
dropped 7.47 percent, though the number of households receiving
food assistance had climbed 4 percent in Indiana overalL Calls to
the LifeStream 211 telephone hotline requesting information
about food pantries doubled, The Second Harvest Food Bank of
East Central Indiana faced severe shortages, The municipal grave-
yard complained it had not been paid for thousands of dollars
worth of funerals for poor and indigent people,
The public was encouraged to apply for services through the
new online syStem; but low-income families in Muncie, as else-
where, did not have regular access to the internet. The majority of
applicants had to rely on a community partner such as a local li-
brary, food pantry, or health clinic to access the online applica-
tion, The FSSA aggressively recruited community organizations
to support the new system by becoming part of a Voluntary Com-
munity Assistance Network (V-CAN),
Asked to use her office’s existing computers and staff to help
66 j AUTOMATING INEQ~ALITY
Muncie citizens submit applications for public assistance, Walker
resisted, “When it came out that this is what they were going to
do, I was like, ‘Excuse me, but, hell! You are not!’ They were try-
ing to get all these other organizations involved to do their work,”
she remembered, “We’re already overloaded,” Walker made her
office available to people who needed to fax documents and par-
ticipate in phone appointments, and her staff went out of their
way to help applicants, but she drew the line at becoming a V-
CAN partner. “I didn’t think it was our responsibility to start
doing FSSA’.s work”
Public libraries were particularly hard-hit by the automation
project. “We had lines of desperate people waiting for help,” said
Muncie Public Library director Ginny Nilles, now retired, V-CAN
partners received little to no compensation, training, or oversight
to do what amounted to volunteer casework Librarians trained
community volunteers to help patrons submit welfare applica-
tions, but the library was quickly overwhelmed, The situation
worsened when budget cuts required reducing hours and laying
off staff.
Library staff and volunteers did a great job, said Nilles, but
there were serious issues, “Confidentiality is very important to li-
brarians, The forms ask very personal questions, If they couldn’t
use the computer, it was incumbent on us to read the questions
out loud and get the answers: social security numbers, mental and
physical health, Volunteers are great, but if you pay someone to
do a job, it’s their responsibility, It’s about accountability,”
“Local agencies were victimized,” said John Cardwell from
the Generations Project, who worked closely with local non-
profits throughout the automation, “They were being dumped
on, serving thousands of people they shouldn’t have been serving,
scrambling ro help people get their benefits restored, They knew
these people, They weren’t going to leave them without medical
care or food,”
AUTOMATING EUGIBIUTY IN THE HEARTLAND I 67
Faced with system failmes, increasing need, and little help
from the state, public assistance recipients, community organ-
izations, and trustee’s offices began to organize, A group called
Concerned Hoosiers set up a website where FSSA and ACS
workers could share their experiences with the modernized
system, The Indiana Home Care Task Force held press confer-
ences on the automation experiment’s impacts and drafted
model legislation to reverse damage, A subcommittee of ser-
vice providers, advocates, and welfare recipients calling them-
selves the Committee on Welfare Privatization Issues provided
emergency interventions for recipients facing benefits termi-
nation, organized press tours highlighting impacts on Hoosier
families, and launched campaigns to increase pressure on
policy-makers to stop the auromarion rollout and terminate
the IBM/ACS contract, With typical Hoosier humor, their ac-
ronym, COWPI, made it clear what they thought about the
new system.
Town Hall meetings on the welfare modernization spread
across the state, Anderson was first in April 2008 then M · , unc1e,
Bloomington, Terre Haute, Kokomo, One of the most successful
was the Muncie People’s Town Hall meeting, held on May 13,
2008, Walker and Murphy proved to be shrewd organizers,
They printed flyers for the meeting and delivered them to so-
cial service agencies, convenience stores, and libraries, They
convmced the Dollar Tree to put a flyer in every customer’s bag,
They scheduled the meeting to coincide with a free food distri-
bution by the Second Harvest Food Bank, They invited local
lawmakers, including State Senator Sue Errington, State Sena-
tor Tim Lanane, and State Representative Dennis Tyler, who
listened to hours of testimony from impacted constituents,
They invited Mitch Roob, who at first demurred, As the town
hall date approached, he changed his mind and asked Walker to
make space for a small army of caseworkers, eight computers,
68 I AUTOMATING INE~ALITY
and a photocopier, rn help attendees solve their eligibility prob-
lems on-site.
More than 500 people attended. A room-spanning line of
public assistance recipients testified about unanswered phones,
lost documents, and benefits denied capriciously. Melinda Jones
of Muncie, the mother of a ten-month-old with cancer, was
fighting to keep her Medicaid and food stamps. “I have to beg
and borrow from my family to give my daughter her food,” she
said, “and I think it’s utterly ridiculous that we do our children
like this.”
Christina King, a diabetic and working mother of three, lost
her Medicaid during the modernization. She was unable to afford
insulin for seven months and her blood sugar was out of control,
putting her at risk of stroke or coma. “What good does it do when
my seven-year-old walks in and I physically cannot get out ofbed?”
she asked. “I spent two days in the ICU because I have no medi-
cine. My kidneys are now at risk. My eyes are at risk. But I get up
every day and I go to work, because I think it’s important for me
to show my kids, ‘Don’t be dependent on the system.’ I need a
hand up, not a handout. I’m raising three kids by myself. I am try-
ing to show my kids, ‘Don’t be like me-do better.'”
Deaf, blind, disabled, and mentally ill clients were particu-
larly hard-hit. ‘Tm deaf. How can I do a telephone interview?”
asked Dionna McGairk through a sign-language interpreter. “I
tell [ call-center operators] to use my relay service. They don’t
understand what relay service is.” When operators told her she
needed to get help to apply for public services, she responded:
“No-I can answer my questions myself. You are discriminating
against the deaf.”
The day after the Muncie Town Hall meeting, State Represen-
tative Dennis Tyler sent a letter to his colleagues in the Indiana
House of Representatives requesting a summer General Assem-
bly meeting to address ongoing problems with the automated sys-
AUTOMATING ELIGIBILITY KN THE HEARTLAND j 69
tern. “The state of Indiana isn’t doing its job,” he said to Joe
Cermak of NewsLink Indiana. “You don’t want to think this sys-
tem is put in place to fail these people, bur what can you think
when it’s failing this bad?” A few days later, on May 19, rhe IBM/
ACS coalition, receiving a “go ahead” order from the FSSA,
rolled out the automated system to 20 more counties in northeast-
ern and southwestern Indiana.
The modernized system had now reached 59 of 92 Indiana
counties, and was serving 430,000 social services clients, a bit less
than half of the state’s caseload. On May 30, a severe weather
system-including tornadoes, torrential rain, and high winds-
battered the state, causing widespread flooding. The IBM/ ACS
coalition pulled employees away from regular operations to pitch
in for the flood effort, easing the way to emergency benefits for
thousands but worsening the already significant backlog for regu-
lar public assistance applicants.
At a Bloomington Town Hall meeting a few weeks later,
State Senator Vi Simpson and State Representatives Peggy Welch
and Matt Pierce listened to clienr testimony and grilled Zach
Main, director of the Division of Family Resources at FSSA and
Mitch Roob’s right-hand man. Participants in the forum raised
similar concerns to those in Muncie: telephone lines were
always busy, Help Center offices had multi-day waits, failure to
cooperate notices were arbitrary and unclear, V-CAN partners
were not trained or supported. Main, visibly frustrated, re-
sponded to criticism of the new system. ‘Tm nor here today to
argue, to defend,” he said. Tm certainly not here to tell you that
everything is perfect with the system. What I will tell you is
that we’re working very hard …. When Governor Daniels came
into office, Indiana was first in the nation in child deaths and
last in the nation in welfare-to-work. We had a system that was
undeniably broken, and the resulrs speak for themselves on
that.”
70 I AUTOMATING INE~ALITY
He faced a skeptical, even incredulous, room. If the results
spoke for themselves, what were they saying, exactly? Simpson
and Welch, who had been responding to constituent complaints
for three months, weren’t buying it. They pressed him with ques-
tions about the ambiguity of failure to cooperate notices, inade-
quate caseworker support, lack ofFSSA accountability to its own
processes, and failure to levy penalties against IBM and ACS for
poor performance.
Peggy Welch shot back, ‘Tm sorry Zach, but what we’ve heard
over and over again is about this telephone interview time, that
they tell you, ‘We’re going to call between 2 and 4 and you better
be there,’ and rhe call doesn’t come through. They call at 8 o’clock
the next morning and then say ‘failure to cooperate.’ That’s a real
problem.” Simpson added, “People don’t know what it means
when they get ‘failure to cooperate’ on a denial notice. In the old
days, they used to be able to call their caseworker and find out what
piece of paper they were missing, or what signature line they for-
got to sign, or whatever the problem was. Now they don’t have
anyone to call.”
The press was printing poignant human interest stories
emerging from the modernization: a nun denied Medicaid,
desperately ill patients spending their final months fighting to
get their health care back, food banks picked clean. Ollice
Holden, regional administrator of the Food and Nutrition Ser-
vice, which administers food stamps for the USDA, wrote a let-
ter to Secretary Roob requesting that the FSSA delay further
implementation. The federal government was concerned over long
determination wait times.
The governor faced increasingly vocal challenges from state
legislators. “I asked for a point of personal privilege on the House
floor,” said Matt Pierce, a Democrat. “I said, ‘This is a train wreck
and everybody ought to know. This thing is hurting people.
We’ve really got to fix it.'” The governor attacked complaints as
AUTOMATING ELIGIBILITY V.N THE HEARTLAND I 71
partisan sniping. me tell you what,” Daniels fired in
an interview with the Evansville Courier & Press, “[Legislators]
are hearing complaints from people who made money off the
past system. That’s where the complaints are principally coming
from.” 5
But Daniels’ contention that the only people harmed by the auto-
mation experiment were welfare chiselers proved unsustainable
when members of his own party began to attack the project. ln
October 2008, State Representative Suzanne Crouch and Stare
Senator Vaneta Becker, both Republicans, drafted legislation that
would halt the expansion of the new eligibility system until the
Select Joint Commission on Medicaid Oversight could perform a
thorough review. At the close of the year, Daniels announced that
he was moving his friend and colleague, Mitch Roob, out of the
FSSA and making him the state’s secretary of commerce and
CEO of the Indiana Economic Development Corporation. He
appointed Anne Waltermann Murphy, Roob’s chief of staff, co
lead the troubled agency.
Within three months of taking control, Murphy demanded
that IBM submit a corrective action plan to improve 36 different
service deficiencies, including excessive wait times, lost docu-
ments, inaccurate data, interview scheduling problems, slow ap-
plication processing, and incorrect instructions to clients.
IBM argued that nothing in their contract required that they
respond to a corrective action plan, but agreed to evaluate exist-
ing operations and suggest areas for system improvement. Ac-
cording to Ken Kusmer of the News and Tribune, IBM released a
362-page plan to fix problems, including “inaccurate and incom-
plete data gathering” and “incorrect communications to clients”
in late July.6 Secretary Murphy encouraged two longtime welfare
officials, Richard Adams and Roger Zimmerman, to come up
with a “Plan B” in case IBM was unable or unwilling to make
72 \ AUTOMATING INE~ALITY
these changes. According to Adams’ testimony in Perdue v. Mur-
phy, the two sketched out a “hybrid system” that would bring
back some aspects of the pre-automated FSSA process on a napkin
ovet lunch.
Daniels continued to defend the automation experiment, in-
sisting that Indiana would not back down from high-tech welfare
teform and that “over time this issue will resolve itself.” But the
political winds had changed. Daniels was now the subject of spec-
ulation about a presidential run, and the failed automation was
embarrassing to the state and to his administration. In Octo-
ber 2009, with his eye on a national audience, the governor did
something unexpected. He admitted that the experiment had
failed and canceled the contract with IBM, calling the project a
“flawed concept that simply did not work out in practice.”
In May 2010, Indiana sued IBM for $437 million, claiming breach
of contract. The state claimed that the automation experiment
led to faulty benefit denials that harmed needy Hoosiers, and de-
manded that the company pay back the nearly half-billion dollars
they had received for running the modernization plus damages
for lawsuits, federal penalties, and state employee overtime. IBM
countersued for about $100 million for the server, hardware, au-
tomated processes, and software that the state was still using to
determine benefit eligibility. IBM won the suit, and was awarded
more than $52 million.
“Neither party deserves to win this case,” wrote Marion Supe-
rior Court Judge David Dreyer in his judgment in favor of IBM.
“This story represents a ‘perfect storm’ of misguided government
policy and overzealous corporate ambition. Overall, both parties
are to blame and Indiana’s taxpayers are left as apparent losers … ,
There is nothing in this case, or the Court’s power, … [to]
remedy the lost taxpayer money or personal suffering of needy
Hoosiers.”
AUTOMATING ELIGIBILITY IN TH.E HEARTLAND I 73
In its suit against IBM, the state charged that the company
had misrepresented its ability to modernize complicated social
service programs and failed to meet the performance standards
contained in the contract. Automated counties lagged behind
“as-is” counties in almost every area of performance: timeliness,
backlogs, data integrity, determination errors, and number of ap-
peals requested.
The state even accused IBM of jury-rigging its processes to
make its performance look better. “A major cause of the dramatic
rise in appeals in the Modernized counties,” the private attorneys
hired to represent the state argued, “was that the IBM Coalition
workers were so far behind in processing applications that they
would often recommend denial of an application to make their
timeliness numbers look better, but then would tell the applicant to
appeal the decision. While the appeal was pending, the Coalition
workers would actually process the application and benefits would
be granted before the hearing date.” According to the suit, “for
the three-year period, IBM was achieving higher-than-projected
profit margins at the same time that its modernized system was
floundering.”
IBM argued on the contrary: the state had consistently praised
their efforts. In May 2008, Secretary Roob reported to the Gen-
eral Assembly that, “We are serving more people statewide and in
a timelier manner than we ever have before.” 7 In December 2008
Governor Daniels stated that the new system “was far better rhan
what preceded it.” IBM admitted that there were problems with
managing overload in the new system. But the company claimed
the problems that arose were due to factors beyond its control.
The Great Recession, the new Healthy Indiana P~ogram, and the
2008 floods had pushed application levels beyond what either
party had imagined.
Judge Dreyer saw incompetence and negligence on both sides.
He noted that the state invited IBM to keep working on the
74 I AUTOMATING lNE~ALITY
project even as they rolled our the hybrid system, which was
based on IBM’s tools, software, and skills, But since the Senate
had stripped the FSSA budget “bare” in early 2009, there was no
money to pay for change orders or modifications to the con-
tract, Secretary Murphy wrote in an email to her colleagues that
IBM would “not commit ro moving forward at no cost, , , ,
[T]hey want more money! We don’t have money now and we
won’t have money for the remainder of [State Fiscal Year] ’10,
What a mess,” 8 When IBM refused to do more work without more
pay, the stare simply cut out the middle man, terminating their
contract while keeping their equipment, processes, and subcon-
tractors in place.
The state and IBM both blamed forces out of their control for
the plan’s collapse. But in reality the coalition delivered exactly
what Indiana officials had asked for: smaller welfare rolls, what-
ever the cost.
In the lawsuit, both the state and IBM avoided talking much
about the impact of the failed automation experiment on rhe
people oflndiana, The state knew from the beginning that what
it was doing posed enormous risks for public assistance recipients
and their families, The state identified “several areas of potentially
significant risk” with the automated system, but “concluded that
‘the status quo is not acceptable”‘ and moved forward with the
plan anyway,9
The goals of the project were consistent throughout the auto-
mation experiment: maximize efficiency and eliminate fraud by
shifting to a task-based system and severing caseworker-co-client
bonds, They were clearly reflected in contract metrics: response
time in the call centers was a key performance indicator; determi-
nation accuracy was not, Efficiency and savings were built into
the contract; transparency and due process were not,
Judge Dreyer found that the problem with the automation ex-
AUTOMATING ELIGrnILITY m THE HEARTLAND I 75
periment was not contractor negligence, ‘There was no material
breach of the Indiana/IBM contract, “The heart of the contract
remained intact throughout the project,” he concluded in his find-
ings, “although sometimes beating irregularly,” The state achieved
its goal of containing the cost of social service programs, The con-
tractor, accountable only to its employer and its shareholders, had
no obligation to measure the automation experiment’s impact
on poor and working-class Hoosiers, The problem with the auto-
mation experiment was not that the IBM/ ACS coalition failed to
deliver, it was that the state and its private partners refused to an-
ticipate or address the system1s human costs.
Afi:er an expensive series of appeals of Judge Dreyer’s decision,
in March 2016 the Indiana Supreme Court ruled that IBM did
in fact materially breach its contract with the state, But the legal
case only seeks to apportion blame and levy penalties, Indiana v,
IBM, as Judge Dreyer pointed out, was about material breach of
contract, not the public trust or public injury, The teal cost of
the privatization experiment-the loss of life-saving benefits for
struggling families, the cost of the contract and legal disputes to
taxpayers, and the weakening of the public service system and
democratic process-has yet to be calculated, It is perhaps incal-
culable,
“There’s a cost to people,” said Jamie Andree oflndiana Legal
Services, “The cost of just waiting around without Medicaid ben-
efits is enormous; it’s really hard to make somebody whole, Most
people will stop getting medical care while eligibility is being de-
termined, There’s no way to compensate them for that,”
The state now uses the hybrid eligibility system, which combines
face-to-face interactions with public employees with the electronic
data processing and privatized administration of the automated
system, Its design allows applicants to contact a team of regional
caseworkers assigned to their case by phone, by internet, by mail,
76 \ AUTOMATING lNE~ALITY
or in person, providing increased contact with state workers. But
the hybrid system still relies on privatized, automated processes
for many core functions and retains the task-based case manage-
ment that caused so many problems during the modernization.
In the hybrid system, re-staffed local offices function as problem
resolution centers, while regional and statewide “change
centers”-run by Xerox, which bought ACS in 2009 for $6.4
billion-review applications, collect and digitize documents,
schedule appointments, screen applications for fraud, process fair
hearing requests, provide a first point of contact for clients, and
perform most updates to cases.
The move to the hybrid system in 2009 certainly quieted the
automated system’s most vocal detractors. But it is unclear if it
works better to secure benefits for those who deserve them. “They
got marginally better when they ditched IBM and did the hybrid
thing,” said Chris Holly in December 2014. “They got better for
people like me. People who help poor people have access to the
local office directly to solve problems. So they took care of us. I
don’t think they took care of the normal person. I won’t say they
bought us off, but they responded to us. We were the ones that
were complaining the loudest.”
Representative Gail Riecken of Evansville agreed with Holly
in an op-ed she wrote in the Fort Wayne journal Gazette in
May 2010. “[FSSA Secretary Anne] Murphy reported that fewer
people are filing appeals for mistakes and wrong decisions [under
the hybrid system]. But it is not clear why the appeals have de-
creased. Is it because the system is better, or have people simply
given up fighting the system?” 10
For some caseworkers, the hybrid system is just the automated
system with a different name. “I don’t see any change,” said Jane
Porter Gresham. “We’re still working mandatory overtime. We
still have the same number of people clamoring to be heard in
face-to-face interviews. The workload has not diminished … ,
AUTOMATING ELIGIBIUTY JN TH.E HEARTLAND j 77
The people that were the most vocal had their needs mer.” When
I asked her why we weren’t hearing more about the problems of
the hybnd system, she replied, “Experienced workers who knew
how it was supposed to be aren’t there any more.” Glenn Cardwell
retired FSSA worker and advocate agreed “veah” h ‘d “w, ‘ ‘
, • 1. 1 , e sa1 , we re
not satisfied [with the hybrid system], but that’s partly a matter of
energy. We won a big battle, but we weren’t ever sure we won the
war.”
, . ‘”I~~y set that system up to just slide stuff under the rug and
mde 1t, argu~d Kevin Stipes, Sophie’s dad. “People [on public as-
sistance] don t have a voice That’s one of th
· e reasons we went
down [to the state house].” Kim chimed in, “To put a face on it!”
Kevm nodded at his wife. “We didn’t mind standing up,” he said.
But there were a lot of people who didn’t know what to do, or felt
too vulnerable to rally to their own defense “Myw·c · ·
. . . He 1s persistent,
mtelligent-1 mean, it should have been a breeze for her to get the
paperwork turned in correctly. I just can’t imagine people with
lesser skills … I know they couldn’t, they didn’t do it.”
“The system doesn’t seem to be set up to help people. It seems
to be set up to play t h ” ‘d Ch · H 11 ” . . go c a, sa1 ns o y. In our legal system
1t 1s better that ten guilty men go free than one innocent man go
to Jail. The modernization flipped that on its head.” Automated
eligibility was based on the assumption that it is better for ten eli-
gible applicants to be denied public benefits than for one ineligi-
ble person to receive them. “They had an opportunity to make a
syste_m that was responsive and effective, and ensure people who
qualified for benefits received those benefits,” Holly said. “My
gut feelmg 1s that they did not respect the people who needed
their help.”
In_the fall of 2008′. Omega Young of Evansville missed an ap-
pomtment to recemfy for Medicaid because she was in the hospi-
tal suffenng from terminal cancer. The cancer that began in her
78 j AUTOMATING INE~A.UTY
ovaries had spread to her kidneys, breast, and liver. Her chemo·
therapy lefi: her weak and emaciated. Young, a round-faced,
umber-skinned mother of two grown sons, struggled to meet the
new system’s requirements. She called the Vanderburgh County
Help Center to let them know that she was hospitalized. Her
medical benefits and food stamps were still cut off for failure to
cooperate.
“The SO-year-old Young, who lived alone in a tiny apartment,
was frantic,” reported Will Higgins in the Indianapolis Star.
11
She
called Cecilia Brennan, a staffer with Evansville-based South-
western Indiana Regional Council on Aging who had been help-
‘”Wh I . d >”‘ H ingwith her case, crying, asking, at am gomgto o. er
sister, Christal Bell, refrained from telling the press that rhe
Medicaid denial hastened Young’s death, bur she did blame the
automated system for making her last days full of extra worry and
trouble. Her brother-in-law, Tom Willis, rnld Higgins that he
routinely hid Young’s medical bills from her so she would nor ob-
sess about the $10,000 she owed.
Because she lost her benefits, Young was unable to afford her
medications. She lost her food stamps. She struggled to pay her rent.
She lost access co free transportation to medical appointments.
Omega Young died March 1, 2009. The next day, on March 2, she
won her FSSA appeal for wrongful termination and her benefits
were restored.
The public welfare system has never been simple, particularly
for Black women. The most restrictive eligibility rules were his-
torically aimed at them. “Suitable home” and “employable mother”
rules were selectively interpreted to block African American
women from claiming their benefits until the rise of rhe welfare
rights movement in the 1970s. “Man in house” and “substitute
father” rules legitimized intrusion into their privacy, judgment of
their sexuality, and invasions of their homes. Ronald Reagan’s
1976 stump speech about the lavish lifestyle of “welfare queen”
AUTOMATING ELIGIBILITY IN THE HEARTLAND I 79
Linda was intended to make the face of welfare both Black
and female. “There’s a woman in Chicago,” he said during the
New Hampshire Republican presidential primary contest. “She
has 80 names, 30 addresses, 12 Social Security cards and is col-
lecting veterans’ benefits on four non-existing deceased hus-
bands. She’s got Medicaid, getting food stamps and she is
collecting welfare under each of her names. Her tax-free cash in-
come alone is over $150,000.” 12 Ms. Taylor was eventually charged
with using 4 aliases, not 80, and collecting $8,000, not $150,000,
but Reagan’s overblown claims found fertile ground, and the im-
age of the welfare queen has remained central to our country’s
understanding of public assistance.
Even today, audit studies find rhat nonwhite applicants in
welfare offices face more unprofessional behavior from casework-
ers than whites: withholding crucial information, refusing to pro-
vide applications, and other forms of outright rudeness. 1′ States
with higher African American populations have tougher rules,
more stringent work requirements, and higher sanction rates.14
Casework is a complex, human endeavor that relies on relation-
ships, requires a difficult mix of canniness and compassion, and is
vulnerable to all the biases about race, class, and gender that are
woven through our society. Concerns about discretionary excesses
are valid. Caseworkers do turn down individuals based on bigotry
or unconscious bias.
The majority of public assistance recipients in Indiana are
white, but race still played a major role in the automation experi-
ment. Governor Mitch Daniels played on rural-urban tensions
and white racial anxiety when he persistently framed problems in
terms of dependency, cheating, criminality, and collusion despite
evidence that only a small proportion of those eligible for public
assistance benefits actually claimed them and that fraud was not a
particularly severe problem at FSSA. The fraud case he held up as
mdicative of the worst problems in the system-the Greater Faith
80 \ AUTOMATING INE~ALITY
Missionary Baptist scam-involved Black defendants, It’s hard
not to suspect that Daniels, like his anti-AFDC mentor Ronald
Reagan, cagily stoked Hoosiers’ stereotypes about race, class,
and public assistance to drum up support for the move to an au-
tomated, privatized welfare system,
The Indiana counties with the smallest African American
populations were transitioned to the automated system first, and
the experiment was halted before it reached Indianapolis and
Gary, the two cities a large share of Black Hoosiers call home, But
despite being rested primarily on poor whites, the automation
experiment had profound impacts on African Americans, Ac-
cording to census data, in 2000, African Americans made up
465 percent of the state’s TANF rolls, and whites held a very slim
majority in the program, at 47,2 percent, At the end of the auto-
mation experiment in 2010, the gap between white and African
American TANF and food stamp/SNAP recipients had widened
precipitously, Despite the fact that the African American popula-
tion of Indiana had grown over the decade, the TANF rolls were
now 54,2 percent white and only 32,l percent African American,
Though eligibility modernization was tested on primarily white
communities, Black families still felt its worst effects,
Removing human discretion from public assistance eligibility
may seem like a compelling solution to the continuing discrimi-
nation African Americans face in the welfare system, After all, a
computer applies the rules to each case consistently and without
prejudice, But historically, the removal of human discretion and
the creation of inflexible rules in public services only compound
racially disparate harms,
For example, in the 1980s and 1990s Congress and many
state legislatures enacted a series of “Tough on Crime” laws that
established mandatory minimum sentences for many categories
of crime and removed a great deal of discretion from judges, Iron-
ically, the changes were a result of organizing both by conserva-
AUTOMATING ELIGIBILITY IN TH.E HEARTLAND j 81
tive law-and-order types and by some progressive civil rights
acnv1sts who saw the bias in judicial discretion as creating racially
disparate outcomes in sentencing.
The evidence of the past 30 years is clear: racial disparity in
the criminal justice system is a great deal worse, As the Leader-
ship Conference on Civil and Human Rights wrote in a 2000 re-
port called “Justice on Trial,” “Minorities fare much worse under
mandatory sentencing laws and guidelines than they did under a
system favoring judicial discretion, By depriving judges of the ul-
timate authority to impose just sentences, mandatory sentencing
laws and guidelines put sentencing on auto-pilot,”15
Automated decision-making can change government for the
better, and tracking program data may, in fact, help identify pat-
terns of biased decision-making. But justice sometimes requires
an ability to bend the rules, By removing human discretion from
frondine social servants and moving it instead to engineers and
private contractors, the Indiana experiment supercharged dis-
crimination.
The “social specs” for the automation were based on time-
worn, race- and class-motivated assumptions about welfare recipi-
ents that were encoded into performance metrics and programmed
into business processes: they are lazy and must be “prodded” into
contributing to their own support, they are sneaky and prone to
fraudulent claims, and their burdensome use of public resources
must be repeatedly discouraged, Each of these assumptions relies
on, and is bolstered by, race- and class-based stereotypes, Poor
Black women like Omega Young paid the price,
New high-tech tools allow for more precise measuring and track-
ing, better sharing of information, and increased visibility of tar-
geted populations, In a system dedicated to supporting poor and
working-class people’s self-determination, such diligence would
guarantee that they attain all the benefits they are entitled to by
82 \ AUTOMATING INE~ALlTY
law. In that context, integrated data and modernized administra-
tion would not necessarily result in bad outcomes for poor com-
munities. But automated decision-making in our current welfare
system acts a lot like older, atavistic forms of punishment and con-
tainment. It filters and diverts. It is a gatekeeper, not a facilitator.
The Indiana automated eligibility system enhanced the state’s
already well-developed diversion apparatus, turbo-charging what
must be seen as a remarkably efficient machine for denying appli-
cations. By narrowing the gate for public benefits and raising the
penalties for noncompliance, it achieved stunning welfare roll re-
ductions. Even under the hybrid system and during the greatest
economic downturn since the Great Depression, drops in the
state’s TANF caseload continued to outpace national averages.
As poverty in Indiana increased, caseloads dropped. When the
governor signed the contract with IBM in 2006, 38 percent of
poor families with children were receiving cash benefits from
TANF. By 2014, the number had dropped to 8 percent.
Struggling people like Omega Young, Lindsay Kidwell, and
Shelli Birden were the first victims of the automation, and they
bore the system’s most terrifying impacts. Though the Stipes
family managed against incredible odds to reestablish their
daughter’s Medicaid, the experience took a dreadful toll. “During
that time, my mind was muddled because it was so stressful,”
said Kim Stipes. ”All my focus was getting Sophie back on that
Medicaid. Then crying afterwards because everybody was calling
us white trash, moochers. It was like being sucked into this vac-
uum of nothingness.”
In the seven years between the Stipes’ battle with the automa-
tion experiment and my visit, Sophie’s life improved: She gained
weight, learned sign language, went to school and made friends,
But eight days after I interviewed the family in their Tipton
home, Dan Skinner sent me an email. “Sad news,” it read. “Kim
Stipes called and told me that little Sophie died. She had been
AUTOMATING ELIGIBILITY IN THE HEARTLAND I 83
sic~ and throwing up on Friday and when rhey found her dead
;:i ;u;ay she was curled up in a fetal position looking peace-
. e octor said her heart simply stopped.”
. _In the end, the Indiana automation experiment was a form of
d1g1tal d1vers1on for poor and working A . I d .
b rnencans. t en1ed them
enefirs, due process, dignity, and life itself “W, .
. . fi . we were not invest-
mg m our ellow human beings the way we should be,” said John
Cardwell of The Generations Proiect “We were b . ll .
I , · as1ca y saying
to a arge percentage of people in Indiana •v ‘ h
h ‘Wh ‘ wu te nonvon a
s it. at a horrible waste of humanity.”
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