It was ironic that the American Community Survey arrived in our mail at the same time that I was rereading the novel 1984. The Big-Brother-esque survey from the U.S. Census Bureau came packaged in an envelope the same size and shape as the ubiquitous Publishers Clearing House announcements, so it almost ended up in the recycling bin.
What distinguished the survey from junk mail was the box on the front of the envelope that read, “Your response is required by law.” And it really is, according to Title 13, U.S. Code, Sections 141, 193 and 221. In addition, a penalty may be imposed for not responding.
In George Orwell’s 1984, residents of a futuristic London live under the constant watch of Big Brother and the constant dread of being turned in to the Thought Police, while government intrudes into every aspect of life. Reading the American Community Survey feels a lot like being watched by Big Brother’s telescreens.
The person filling out the survey is labeled “Person 1.” That person is required by law to list the name of every person staying in the household, giving his or her birth date, sex, race, ethnic origin, place of birth, citizenship status, education, veteran status, job history, income and relationship to Person 1.
Person 1 must answer 23 questions about the residence and the size of the property: what kind of a home, apartment or condo it is, when it was built, when Person 1 moved in, whether anyone is operating a business in the home, how many rooms and how many bedrooms there are, what kind of bathroom and kitchen fixtures there are, and the market price of the residence.
The survey asks how much is paid each month for electricity, gas, water, rent, real estate taxes and fire or flood insurance, and asks specific questions about first and second mortgage payments. There are questions about internet access and the number of automobiles, and how many months of the year the residence is occupied.
Does the government really need to know all this? Is a citizen — chosen at random, according to the survey — obligated to reveal under penalty of law if anyone in the household has a desktop or laptop, smartphone, tablet, portable computer or some other type of computer?
The U.S. Constitution established the census in Article 1, Section 2, for two reasons: apportionment of representatives and direct taxes. The vehicle for this apportionment was decennial enumeration. Noah Webster’s 1828 American Dictionary of the English Language says “enumeration” means “the act of counting or telling a number, by naming each particular.”
It seems the original intent of surveying American citizens was counting them by naming each one in a census every 10 years. There is no mention in Article 1 of requiring that a person divulge how well everyone else in the household speaks English (question 14c). I fail to see how my assessment of whether a person in my home has difficulty walking or climbing stairs (question 18b) has anything remotely to do with direct taxes or how many representatives New Hampshire has in Congress.
According to Stacy Gimbel Vidal, spokeswoman for the Census Bureau, the point of answering these intrusive questions is that I am helping my community make decisions and that the survey is “the only source of local statistics for most of the 40 topics it covers.” Could that possibly be true?
In the Upper Valley, we have multiple local agencies that work with planning: Vital Communities, Upper Valley Lake Sunapee Regional Planning Commission and Two Rivers-Ottauquechee Regional Commission, to name three. Some of those agencies, along with Upper Valley towns, do use the survey data in planning, especially in traffic planning and grant proposals. However, a quick look at the Vital Communities website reports the use of two surveys — one on parking in downtown White River Junction and one on the viability of commuter bus service on I-89 — which involved (voluntary) direct input from local residents and businesses. Obviously, these agencies have other sources of data for the type of information they are seeking regarding traffic patterns.
The survey might be the only source of data for some of the personal questions it asks, but should it be? If a stranger asked you if a member of your household has difficulty doing errands alone, would you feel comfortable answering? Should the U.S. Census know how many people in your home you feel have difficulty dressing or bathing?
Though there is a penalty for not responding to the survey, the Census Bureau does not seem to penalize non-respondents. It also doesn’t seem to have any mechanism for verifying the data it receives, much of which is subjective. Not only do some questions ask for Person 1’s opinion, the survey also recommends that if an exact answer isn’t available, Person 1 should make an educated guess. Then, because the survey is not sent to every household, the data is extrapolated to reflect that household’s community.
That begs the question, though. The issue isn’t how accurate the data is or how safe the information is once given, but whether these questions should be asked in the first place.
Note that it is 2017, not a census year. Although the U.S. Code calls for a census on a specific date (April 1) in specific years (1980 and every 10 years thereafter), one subchapter authorizes the secretary of commerce to “make surveys deemed necessary to furnish annual and other interim current data.” It is under this broad, vague umbrella that the American Community Survey is sent out.
Is the data useful? Some of it is. Are there other ways to get it? Absolutely. There is always the private sector. There is also making the survey voluntary, not mandatory.
Yes, that might decrease the response rate, but the Census Bureau could always send out more random surveys.
There is a difference between authorized information our government needs for a specific purpose, like the census numbers for determining representation in Congress or income statements for income tax, and general data that can be useful in planning, such as the American Community Survey. The former examples can be tied directly to the Constitution, the latter cannot.
Compelling citizens to reveal personal data is more like 1984 than 2017. The U.S. Census Bureau should rethink its heavy-handed approach to gathering information it thinks it needs. In a free society, a government should be free to ask for information above and beyond its constitutional limits, but all its citizens should also be free to refuse to give it when asked.
Margaret Drye reports that census data confirms she lives in Plainfield.