Street Psychology: Working-Class Wisdom in the Age of Neoliberalism and Trump

In the United States of 2025—where neoliberal capitalism and creeping authoritarianism grind down the human spirit—there’s an urgent need for a way of thinking, surviving, and resisting that doesn’t come from think tanks or corporate wellness plans. Street Psychology is that way.

This idea isn't new. It’s an outbreak from earlier projects like Street Sociologist (2009–2012) and American Injustice (2009–2013), digital spaces that chronicled working-class survival under austerity, war, mass incarceration, student loan predation, and the Great Recession. Those projects documented both despair and resistance—voices from the margins that understood the system was not broken but operating as designed. Street Psychology is the next step in that lineage. It names the psychic toll of exploitation and dares to offer tools for survival drawn not from institutions, but from the people themselves.

Street Psychology isn’t a licensed profession or clinical method. It’s a bottom-up philosophy. A way of being that honors grit, grief, memory, and movement. It draws from Black Psychology, Radical Social Work, and the unspoken survival strategies passed down through generations—especially those of the poor, the working class, the dispossessed.

It tells us: you’re not crazy. You’re living in a society that has normalized cruelty.

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Life Under Pressure

In today's America, working people face a perfect storm. Medicaid cuts, climate shocks, unpayable debt, and housing crises are daily facts of life. The Trump regime, emboldened by a Supreme Court that erodes checks and balances, offers little more than political theater and corporate tax breaks. "Law and order" is back—but so are vigilante violence and state repression. In this environment, working-class people are expected to carry on as if nothing is wrong—grinding away at gig jobs, navigating broken transit systems, shouldering invisible pain.

Street Psychology offers no false comfort. It teaches that burnout, anxiety, and despair are not personal failures—they are rational reactions to a system that exploits and isolates. It offers a politics of honesty.

It reminds us that mental health cannot be separated from rent, food, dignity, and debt.

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Lessons from Horror and Triumph

Street Psychology is grounded in history—not the history of presidents and generals, but the people’s history of how folks made it through.

During the Great Depression, when one in four Americans was unemployed, it was mutual aid, union organizing, and government pressure from below that helped form the New Deal—not just FDR’s goodwill. Neighbors shared food. Workers seized factories. Families survived on ingenuity and grit. Street Psychology carries that memory.

During World War II, ordinary people faced rations, displacement, and death on an unprecedented scale. But they also built community resilience. Black Americans moved north and west in the Great Migration, seeking both work and dignity. Women entered the workforce by the millions—not for empowerment branding, but to survive. Trauma was everywhere, but so was collective purpose. Street Psychology remembers that duality.

And in the COVID-19 pandemic, we saw the brutal convergence of economic inequality, medical neglect, and state failure. But we also saw mutual aid networks rise overnight. Grocery workers, nurses, delivery drivers, and custodians became the front line—not billionaires or generals. People created community fridges, distributed masks, and organized rent strikes. Even amid mass death and disinformation, something deeply human survived. Street Psychology draws its oxygen from these moments.

It says: we’ve been through hell before—and we’ve learned how to survive together.

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Radical Roots and Collective Healing

Street Psychology stands on the shoulders of Black radical thinkers like Dr. Na’im Akbar and Dr. Wade Nobles, who taught that psychological liberation requires historical truth and cultural self-determination. It borrows from the Radical Social Worker tradition that insists depression and addiction often emerge from exploitation, not deficiency.

It echoes the voices of those doing hard, dirty, “bullshit jobs,” as David Graeber called them—people whose work is exhausting, precarious, and spiritually deadening. It respects those whose minds and bodies are tired because they’ve been used up. And it says plainly: this is not your fault.

Healing begins with naming the madness.

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A People's Practice

Street Psychology thrives outside institutions. It happens in union halls, kitchens, church basements, food pantries, WhatsApp threads. It takes the form of eye contact, a ride to work, a bag of groceries, a story told without shame. It asks us not to fix ourselves to fit a broken world—but to remember we are not alone in our pain or our power.

It teaches that even in a world of distraction and despair, we can practice presence and solidarity. We can re-learn how to listen, how to mourn, how to laugh in defiance.

This psychology is not neutral. It does not pretend to be apolitical. It stands with those being crushed—by the debt collectors, the landlords, the ICE raids, the fascists in suits. It says: you matter. Your struggle matters. And you're not the only one carrying this weight.

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A Call to Reclaim Our Minds

Street Psychology is not a cure. It is not a self-help manual. It is a collective reckoning. A refusal to be shamed into silence or fragmented into diagnosis. It is the unlicensed, unpolished wisdom of people who’ve lived through hell and still show up for each other.

In the age of Trump, AI surveillance, climate breakdown, and economic betrayal, this might be our best chance: to recover the human, to restore the political, and to reclaim the psychological as a shared terrain.

Let’s build a new commons—not just of resources, but of understanding. Let’s build a psychology that is street-smart, justice-rooted, and history-aware.

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Sources & Influences:

• Akbar, Na’im. Breaking the Chains of Psychological Slavery

• Nobles, Wade. Seeking the Sakhu

• Graeber, David. Bullshit Jobs

• Paulo Freire. Pedagogy of the Oppressed

• Radical Social Worker Collective

• Mutual Aid Disaster Relief

• American Injustice (2009–2013) and Street Sociologist (2009–2012) blog archives

• Historical memory from the Great Depression, WWII home front, and COVID-19 mutual aid networks

• People’s CDC, APA, KFF data on structural causes of psychological distress

Street Psychology lives in those who refuse to forget—and who refuse to give up. If you or your community are practicing this in any form, we want to hear from you.

“The Obsolete Man”: A Twilight Zone Warning for the Trump Era and the Age of AI

Rod Serling’s classic 1961 episode of The Twilight Zone, “The Obsolete Man,” offers a timeless meditation on authoritarianism, conformity, and the erasure of humanity. In it, a quiet librarian, Romney Wordsworth (played by Burgess Meredith), is deemed “obsolete” by a dystopian state for believing in books and God—symbols of individual thought and spiritual meaning. Condemned by a totalitarian chancellor and scheduled for execution, Wordsworth calmly exposes the cruelty and contradictions of the regime, ultimately reclaiming his dignity by refusing to bow to tyranny.

Over 60 years later, “The Obsolete Man” feels less like fiction and more like a documentary. The Trump era, supercharged by the rise of artificial intelligence and a war on truth, has brought Serling’s chilling parable into sharper focus.

The Authoritarian Impulse

President Donald Trump’s presidency—and his ongoing influence—has been marked by a deep antagonism toward democratic institutions, intellectual life, and perceived “elites.” Journalists were labeled “enemies of the people.” Scientists and educators were dismissed or silenced. Books were banned in schools and libraries, and curricula were stripped of “controversial” topics like systemic racism or gender identity.

Like the chancellor in The Obsolete Man, Trump and his allies seek not just to discredit dissenters but to erase their very legitimacy. In this worldview, librarians, teachers, and independent thinkers are expendable. What matters is loyalty to the regime, conformity to its ideology, and performance of power.

Wordsworth’s crime—being a librarian and a believer—is mirrored in real-life purges of professionals deemed out of step with a hardline political agenda. Public educators and college faculty who challenge reactionary narratives have been targeted by state legislatures, right-wing activists, and billionaire-backed think tanks. In higher education, departments of the humanities are being defunded or eliminated entirely. Faculty governance is undermined. The university, once a space for critical inquiry, is increasingly treated as an instrument for ideological control—or as a business to be stripped for parts.

The Age of AI and the Erasure of the Human

While authoritarianism silences the human spirit, artificial intelligence threatens to replace it. AI tools, now embedded in everything from hiring algorithms to classroom assessments, are reshaping how knowledge is produced, disseminated, and controlled. In the rush to adopt these technologies, questions about ethics, bias, and human purpose are often sidelined.

AI systems do not “believe” in anything. They do not feel awe, doubt, or moral anguish. They calculate, replicate, and optimize. In the hands of authoritarian regimes or profit-driven institutions, AI becomes a tool not of liberation, but of surveillance, censorship, and disposability. Workers are replaced. Students are reduced to data points. Librarians—like Wordsworth—are no longer needed in a world where books are digitized and curated by opaque algorithms.

This is not merely a future problem. It's here. Algorithms already determine who gets hired, who receives financial aid, and which students are flagged as “at risk.” Predictive policing, automated grading, and AI-generated textbooks are not the stuff of science fiction. They are reality. And those who question their fairness or legitimacy risk being labeled as backwards, inefficient—obsolete.

A Culture of Disposability

At the heart of “The Obsolete Man” is a question about value: Who decides what is worth keeping? In Trump’s America and in the AI-driven economy, people are judged by their utility to the system. If you're not producing profit, performing loyalty, or conforming to power, you can be cast aside.

This is especially true for the working class, contingent academics, and the so-called “educated underclass”—a growing population of debt-laden degree holders trapped in precarious jobs or no jobs at all. Their degrees are now questioned, their labor devalued, and their futures uncertain. They are told that if they can’t “pivot” or “reskill” for the next technological shift, they too may be obsolete.

The echoes of The Twilight Zone are deafening.

Resistance and Redemption

Yet, as Wordsworth demonstrates in his final moments, resistance is possible. Dignity lies in refusing to surrender the soul to the machine—or the regime. In his quiet defiance, Wordsworth forces the chancellor to confront his own cowardice, exposing the hollow cruelty of the system.

In our time, that resistance takes many forms: educators who continue to teach truth despite political pressure; librarians who fight book bans; whistleblowers who challenge surveillance technologies; and students who organize for justice. These acts of courage and conscience remind us that obsolescence is not a matter of utility—it’s a judgment imposed by those in power, and it can be rejected.

Rod Serling ended his episode with a reminder: “Any state, any entity, any ideology that fails to recognize the worth, the dignity, the rights of man—that state is obsolete.”

The question now is whether we will heed the warning. In an age where authoritarianism and AI threaten to render us all obsolete, will we remember what it means to be human?

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The Higher Education Inquirer welcomes responses and reflections on how pop culture can illuminate our present crises. Contact us with your thoughts or your own essay proposals.

Humanizing Education Part I: Can Spelman College Wellness Be a Model for Change?

In 2013, Spelman College, an all-women's college and HBCU took the bold move of replacing its costly Division III sports program with an extensive wellness program for all its students. There were several arguments against the strategy, including the idea that many CEOs, including women CEOs, competed as NCAA athletes.

It was a courageous move for then-President Beverly Daniel Tatum, one that appears to have paid off.  We can find no evidence that making this transition to a more egalitarian model of physical activity has hurt the school in terms of funding. Its current endowment is approaching a half-billion dollars. Its acceptance rate is competitive, 28 percent. 

This is not to say that Spelman women and Spelman grads won't be competitive in the way they live their lives. Spelmanites will continue to excel on a number of playing fields. In 2023, there was an effort to establish lacrosse as a club sport, but this did not take away significantly from the overall focus on wellness over competition. 

Social Reality Check

Can this more egalitarian model of physical activity work at other small schools? Perhaps, but we can find no other college that has followed suit. This strategy may not even be possible with expensive Division III football programs that have perennially losing squads. One higher ed businessman who wished to remain anonymous told us that "football gets you 100 enrollment for overcompensating men who want to tell their girlfriends that they played intercollegiate football. It also brings 25 cheerleaders and a 50-piece band  and something to do on homecoming which is among the highest producing development events." 

Making changes to humanize education is not easy. Understanding the particulars of the issues, including vested interests, and social reality, is imperative.

Rehumanization in Higher Education: An Alternative to Maximizing Panic and Profit

It's questionable whether the Earth's tech bros (e.g. Gates, Musk, Bezos, Thiel, Zuckerberg) really believe in democracy, but they do believe in enriching themselves, like the robber barons of the 19th century, or going back even further, to myths of flawed rulers and gods of ancient times. A few of these bros, believing mostly in themselves, have suggested that democracy is incompatible with progress. There are probably more of these elites (and their backers) who agree, but on the back stage. 

Today, there are apps for just about everything, and there are some good ones. But there are few signs that the most recent technological innovations have improved the overall existence of humans, the planet we live on, or the many other species with share the planet with. Life is great for some, good for many, and not as happy for many more. Folks feel anxious, alienated, and dehumanized and for good reason.

Rehumanization: An Alternative to Maximizing Panic and Profit 

Despite all this new technology, climate change is an existential threat and its consequences are looming. Wars and conflicts are raging around the world and there are threats of more war. Stock prices have risen, but American Quality of Life (QOL) has not improved significantly. Information for the masses is laced with toxic propaganda. Mental illness is rising. US life expectancy has plateaued. Debt is a normal part of middle class life. People are more sedentary and obese. 

For many in this new tech world, sh*t jobs are plentiful and good jobs are hard to find. Bitcoin is an alternative (and speculative) currency used for illegal and predatory activity. Online teachers and content creators are throwaway items. You can have prepared food, of varying quality, delivered to your door. Pornography is omnipresent. Mass surveillance is accepted and normalized. Brutality and genocide can be watched like entertainment, to be played over and over or swept away at the touch of a finger. Online robocollege education is available 24/7/365 and cheating is rampant, but for many a degree is just a ticket to be punched in a world of hypercredentialism.   

Some of us are half-conscious of the algorithms of oppression and those who dictate the code, but we have enough faith in technology and the tech bros that it will be ok if we accept certain social realities--and don't fight it or challenge it. If we just go along. However sick, pathological, or evil it is, no matter how greedy these tech bros and their enablers are, "it is what it is." 

How is this progress? And does it have to be this way? We don't think so. There are even models to bring light into the approaching darkness.

That's why we want to highlight the bright spots in higher education in a series called the Rehumanization of Higher Ed. Stay tuned.