Hostname: page-component-745bb68f8f-5r2nc Total loading time: 0 Render date: 2025-02-06T14:11:13.912Z Has data issue: false hasContentIssue false

Investigating ‘place effects’ on mental health: implications for population-based studies in psychiatry

Published online by Cambridge University Press:  26 November 2014

T. Astell-Burt*
Affiliation:
School of Science and Health, University of Western Sydney, Australia School of Geography and Geosciences, University of St Andrews, UK
X. Feng
Affiliation:
School of Health and Society, University of Wollongong, Australia Boden Institute of Obesity, Nutrition, Exercise and Eating Disorders, University of Sydney Menzies Centre for Health Policy, University of Sydney
*
*Address for correspondence: Dr Thomas Astell-Burt, School of Science and Health, University of Western Sydney, Australia; School of Geography and Geosciences, University of St Andrews, UK. (Email: t.astell-burt@uws.edu.au)
Rights & Permissions [Opens in a new window]

Abstract

Background.

Interest in features of our local environments that may promote better mental health and wellbeing continues to rise among decision makers. Our purpose was to highlight a selection of these challenges and some promising avenues for enhancing the quality of evidence.

Method.

An analysis of approximately 267, 000 people was used to test the local relative deprivation hypothesis, wherein the shortfall of a person's socioeconomic circumstances from their neighbours is said to impact negatively upon mental health. This case was used to anchor further discussion of challenges to identifying and interpreting genuine ‘place effects’ from spurious correlations.

Results.

A Median Odds Ratio of 1.29 computed via multilevel logistic regression showed that the odds of experiencing psychological distress (as measured by the Kessler score) varied by geographical area. Approximately 67% of this was attributed to a cross-classified measure of household income and neighbourhood deprivation. Compared to people on high incomes living in affluent neighbourhoods, the odds ratio of psychological distress for people on low incomes in affluent areas was 4.73 (95% confidence interval (95% CI) 4.39, 5.09), whereas that for people on low incomes in deprived areas was significantly higher at 5.83 (95% CI 5.41, 6.28).

Conclusions.

While no evidence was found to support local relative deprivation hypothesis, the pattern suggests that more affluent areas may contain features that are conducive to better mental health. Selection of bespoke geographical boundaries, use of directed acyclic graphs and more evaluations of natural experiments are likely to be important in taking the field of enquiry onwards.

Type
Special Article
Copyright
Copyright © Cambridge University Press 2014 

Introduction

Mental health is fundamental to society and economy (Commission on Social Determinants of Health, 2008). There are, however, important variations in mental health which manifest geographically and these can be demonstrated statistically (e.g., Chaix et al. Reference Chaix, Merlo, Subramanian, Lynch and Chauvin2005). Quantifying the spatial distributions of mental health is (or ought to be) of substantive interest to the health sector in so that appropriate levels of services can be allocated efficiently and equitably to address variation in local need (McLafferty, Reference Mclafferty2003). But it is not just about satisfying local need for treatment; there is also interest in public health and urban planning on the extent that neighbourhoods can be designed to promote greater mental health among their residents as a result (Jackson et al. Reference Jackson, Dannenberg and Frumkin2013; Kent & Thompson, Reference Kent and Thompson2014). Liveable neighbourhoods as part of the arsenal of preventive health (Wilson, Reference Wilson2014). Therein, however, lies a fundamental question that continues to fuel debate among geographers, epidemiologists, sociologists, economists, etc., to what extent do these geographies of mental health actually reflect the impact of ‘place’, or are they simply a manifestation of preferential choices and segregating forces dictated largely by the housing and labour markets?

The proposition that who and what a person lives near can influence their life-chances is not new (Faris & Dunham, Reference Faris and Dunham1939; Wilson, Reference Wilson1987; Massey et al. Reference Massey, Gross and Eggers1991; Corburn, Reference Corburn2007). This hypothesis is reflected within several publications within this very journal (e.g., Losert et al. Reference Losert, SCHMAUß, Becker and Kilian2012). Likewise, readers and contributors to the enormous ‘place effects’ genre of research more widely have already witnessed much lively and valuable debate (Dorling et al. Reference Dorling, Smith, Noble, Wright, Burrows, Bradshaw, Joshi, Pattie, Mitchell and Green2001; Macintyre et al. Reference Macintyre, Ellaway and Cummins2002; Diez Roux, Reference Diez Roux2004; Durlauf, Reference Durlauf, Henderson and Thisse2004; Oakes, Reference Oakes2004; Kling et al. Reference Kling, Kessler, Ludwig, Sanbonmatsu, Liebman, Duncan and Katz2008; VanderWeele, Reference Vanderweele2010; Galster & Hedman, Reference Galster and Hedman2013; Slater, Reference Slater2013; Astell-Burt et al. Reference Astell-Burt, Mitchell and Hartig2014). Recent research on ‘place effects’ and mental health has covered a range of potentially modifiable exposures operating at the local level, such as socioeconomic deprivation (Henderson et al. Reference Henderson, Diez Roux, Jacobs, Kiefe, West and Williams2005), safety (Stafford et al. Reference Stafford, Chandola and Marmot2007), social capital (Murayama et al. Reference Murayama, Fujiwara and Kawachi2012), education (Wight et al. Reference Wight, Aneshensel, Miller-Martinez, Botticello, Cummings, Karlamangla and Seeman2006) and ‘green spaces’ such as public parks (Astell-Burt et al. Reference Astell-Burt, Feng and Kolt2013); the latter being increasingly popular among urban planners interested in designing ‘healthy’ built environments (Australian Government, 2011; Nilsson et al. Reference Nilsson, Sangster, Konijnendijk, Nilsson, Sangster, Gallis, Hartig, De Vries, Seeland and Schipperijn2011). If geographical clusters of mental health reflect not just selective processes attributable to household relocation, but in fact something more profound about the local environments in which people live, identifying which of those features have pathogenic and/or so-called ‘salutogenic’ properties (Antonovsky, Reference Antonovsky1996) is a public health imperative to put mental health promotion at the core of all urban planning (Rydin et al. Reference Rydin, Bleahu, Davies, Dávila, Friel, De Grandis, Groce, Hallal, Hamilton and Howden-Chapman2012).

There have already been several reviews of the literature focused specifically on the question of whether places determine mental health (Truong & Ma, Reference Truong and Ma2006; Clark et al. Reference Clark, Myron, Stansfeld and Candy2007; Kim, Reference Kim2008; Mair et al. Reference Mair, Roux and Galea2008). Our purpose is not to retrace old ground, but to reflect on the ongoing challenge of identifying ‘place effects’ on mental health and some developments in the field with the aid of a case-study example. We emphasise the need for: (i) greater consideration of geographical units used to define exposure; (ii) more widespread use of directed acyclic graphs (DAGs) for developing stronger tests of a priori hypotheses; and (iii) greater ambition, but also more transparency about the potential added value of exploiting natural experiments to raise the quality of evidence available for decision makers.

People and places

Various theories on place effects have been summarised elsewhere (Jencks & Mayer, Reference Jencks, Mayer, Lynn and Mcgeary1990; Galster, Reference Galster2008). Looking beyond the ‘socioeconomic gradient’ in health (Marmot, Reference Marmot2006), some scientists have argued that how much income a person earns relative to others is an important determinant of mental health (Wilkinson & Pickett, Reference Wilkinson and Pickett2009). This theory of ‘relative deprivation’ has prompted considerable debate (Muntaner & Lynch, Reference Muntaner and Lynch1999; Wilkinson, Reference Wilkinson1999; Marmot & Wilkinson, Reference Marmot and Wilkinson2001; Lynch & Davey Smith, Reference Lynch and Davey Smith2002) and continues to attract scientific enquiry (Kondo et al. Reference Kondo, Sembajwe, Kawachi, Van Dam, Subramanian and Yamagata2009; Fone et al. Reference Fone, Greene, Farewell, White, Kelly and Dunstan2013; Pabayo et al. Reference Pabayo, Kawachi and Gilman2013; de Vries et al. Reference De Vries, Blane and Netuveli2014). It is not only that having more income typically endows one with greater command over material resources, but the extent of the income difference between the desired situation and the person desiring it is also said to matter (Runciman, Reference Runciman1966). Social comparisons render those on relatively higher incomes with greater prestige in society, whereas those on lower incomes are said to experience more stress and dissatisfaction through invidious social comparisons (Wilkinson, Reference Wilkinson1999). Although the majority of the epidemiological evidence thus far has examined this ‘relative deprivation’ hypothesis with respect to inequality at the national level (Subramanian & Kawachi, Reference Subramanian and Kawachi2004), these social comparisons are also likely to be made within the neighbourhoods in which people live (Galster, Reference Galster2008). Recognising the patterning of mental health by income, the research question being asked is whether said patterning is modified by the socioeconomic circumstances of the neighbourhoods in which people reside? Through considering this question, we highlight several challenges in the analysis of causality that geographers, epidemiologists, sociologists, economists, etc. must continue to contend with in the future.

Method

To test this question, we took responses to the Kessler 10 Psychological Distress Scale (Furukawa et al. Reference Furukawa, Kessler, Slade and Andrews2003) in the Sax Institute's 45 and Up Study (The University of New South Wales Human Research Ethics Committee (HREC 05035/HREC 10186) approved the 45 and Up Study.). (45 and Up Study Collaborators, 2008). Between 2006 and 2008, approximately 267, 000 Australians aged 45 years and older living in New South Wales (NSW) participated, having been randomly sampled from the Medicare Australia database. Approximately 12% were identified as being at a high risk of experiencing psychological distress (scores of ≥22). The University of New South Wales Human Research Ethics Committee (HREC 05035/HREC 10186) approved the 45 and Up Study.

We fitted this binary variable as the outcome within a multilevel logistic regression in MLwIN (Rasbash et al. Reference Rasbash, Browne, Goldstein, Yang, Plewis, Healy, Woodhouse, Draper, Langford and Lewis2000), with adjustment for an interaction between gender and age (fitted as linear and square terms, to account for curvilinear associations in mental health as people age). Intercepts were allowed to vary, which afforded an estimate of the variance in psychological distress manifesting across areas of residence (proxied by ‘Statistical Local Areas’). The ‘area-level’ variance was estimated at 0.07 (standard error = 0.009), which can be re-expressed in the form of a Median Odds Ratio (MOR) (Merlo et al. Reference Merlo, Chaix, Ohlsson, Beckman, Johnell, Hjerpe, Råstam and Larsen2006) of about 1.29. This suggests that the median difference in the odds of experiencing psychological distress from one area to another is 29%; there is geographical variation of psychological distress in our sample. This variation is illustrated by a residual plot in Fig. 1 and a close-up of the Sydney metropolitan area (home to over 4.5 million people) in Fig. 2.

Fig. 1. Geographical variation in psychological distress, expressed in the form of odds ratios on a residual plot, adjusted for age.

Fig. 2. Geographical variation in psychological distress in Sydney Metropolitan area, expressed as a map of area-level residuals classified above, below or not significantly different to the average across NSW, adjusted for age and gender.

To measure relative deprivation at the neighbourhood level, we categorised responses to a question on annual household income for each participant ($0–19, 999, $20 000–69, 999, ≥$70, 000) and cross-classified this variable with tertiles of the Socio Economic Index For Areas (SEIFA) scale of advantage/disadvantage (Pink, Reference Pink2011). The SEIFA scale takes into account a range of socioeconomic indicators, including income. According to this cross-classification, a participant may be described as ‘relatively deprived’ if their level of income was low but they were living in an area scoring highly on the SEIFA scale (i.e., an affluent neighbourhood). Conversely, a person may be considered to be a source of disamenity to their neighbours if they had a high income but lived in a deprived area. Fitting this cross-classification as a set of fixed effect dummy variables allowed a relatively straightforward interpretation (as opposed to fitting two-way interactions).

Results

The ‘area-level’ variance was estimated at 0.07 (standard error = 0.009), which can be re-expressed in the form of a Median Odds Ratio (MOR) (Merlo et al. 2006) of around 1.29. This suggests that the median difference in the odds of experiencing psychological distress from one area to another is 29%; there is geographical variation of psychological distress in our sample.

Adding the measure of relative deprivation to the model explained about 67% of the geographical variation, bringing the MOR down to 1.16. Figure 3 shows the familiar pattern of greater odds of psychological distress among people on lower incomes and living in deprived neighbourhoods. It is also clear, however, that these analyses presented no evidence of a ‘relative deprivation’ effect, since people on lower incomes tended to do better if they were resident in more affluent surroundings than their peers living in deprived neighbourhoods. Compared with people on high incomes living in affluent neighbourhoods, the odds ratio of psychological distress for people on low incomes in affluent areas was 4.73 (95% confidence interval (95% CI) 4.39, 5.09), whereas the odds ratio for those on low incomes in deprived areas was significantly higher at 5.83 (95% CI 5.41, 6.28).

Fig. 3. Psychological distress and local relative deprivation, adjusted for age and gender.

Discussion

Key findings and appraisal of the initial hypothesis

Discordance between the amount of income earned and that to which a person desires is said to create relative deprivation. Since people routinely compare themselves to others they see regularly, such as their neighbours, then this potentially psychosocial risk factor may be hypothesised to operate at a local as well as national scale. In this study, people on lower incomes had greater odds of psychological distress, especially if they lived in deprived neighbourhoods. Conversely, people on higher incomes tended to have better mental health regardless of their neighbourhood socioeconomic circumstances. These results are at odds with the relative deprivation hypothesis. If relative deprivation were a local ‘place effect’, the inverse to the results found should have been observed. The results clearly do not refute relative deprivation measured at the national scale as a potential pathway, but they do imply that local relative deprivation may not be a negative determinant of mental health as might have previously been thought.

Perhaps what these results do lend support to, however, is a lesser-known and more materialist alternative called the ‘pull-up/pull-down hypothesis’ (Gatrell, Reference Gatrell1997; Boyle et al. Reference Boyle, Norman and Rees2004a , Reference Boyle, Gatrell, Duke-Williams, Boyle, Curtis, Graham and Moore b ; Cox et al. Reference Cox, Boyle, Davey, Feng and Morris2007). Proponents of this hypothesis suggested that a person on lower income who happens to live in an affluent area benefits from the range of local resources and conditions that would not necessarily have been available were they living in a poorer community. These could range from healthy food outlets, health services, more public parks, less crime and pollution, etc. This may be combined with potential benefits of exposure to residents from more favourable socioeconomic backgrounds, supplying ‘weak ties’ (Granovetter, Reference Granovetter1973), different social role models and ‘bridging’ forms of social capital (Putnam, Reference Putnam2007), perhaps with greater social regard for health-enhancing lifestyles such as physical activity and healthier eating. This idea is not dissimilar to that promoted by work on ‘deprivation amplification’ (Macintyre, Reference Macintyre2007), the concentration of poverty (Wilson, Reference Wilson1987) and advocates of desegregation policies via mixed housing tenure initiatives (Ostendorf et al. Reference Ostendorf, Musterd and De Vos2001; Bond et al. Reference Bond, Sautkina and Kearns2010). Where one lives is argued to matter and the more affluent the surroundings the better, regardless of an individual's income.

This raises a substantively interesting research question: what are the reason(s) why people on lower incomes that live in more affluent surroundings appear to have better mental health? Can we isolate, empirically, what those features of the local environment might be, in so that we can use that information to optimise urban design to enhance mental health within disadvantaged communities? The remainder of this paper reflects on the challenges to realising this ambition.

Drawing the boundaries

The given analysis was a fairly basic example of a multilevel model, wherein the reality of people sharing local geographies, having access to similar services and exposure to various localised phenomena is not conceptualised merely as a nuisance to be controlled; it is an important avenue for scientific enquiry (Subramanian & O'Malley, Reference Subramanian and O'malley2010). These models are, by and large, standard procedure for quantitative studies of people within places (Jones & Duncan, Reference Jones and Duncan1996; Diez Roux, Reference Diez Roux2004; Subramanian et al. Reference Subramanian, Jones, Kaddour and Krieger2009). From the results, it is clear that (i) geographic variation in psychological distress exists; and (ii) much of this variation can be attributed to differences in socioeconomic circumstances between individuals and, to a lesser extent, the places in which they live. Claims over causality, however, would be highly premature. Previous work has already noted that the partitioning of variance and expression as an MOR in a multilevel logistic regression is a useful tool to describe geographical variation in the outcome of interest; these tools cannot nonetheless assert a causal effect of ‘place’ on said outcome (Merlo & Chaix, Reference Merlo and Chaix2006). There are many reasons why, some of which are widely recognised, but others less so.

7One of the more routinely appreciated reasons is the set of geographical boundaries used to delineate ‘neighbourhood’. The problem is that much of the work, including that presented here, has used sets of geographical boundaries that were created for purposes other than to ascertain the exposure that is of direct interest to the study (Flowerdew et al. Reference Flowerdew, Manley and Sabel2008). The imposition of ‘off-the-shelf’ geographical boundaries may reflect the places of residence of some people quite well, but for others rather poorly, even for people who live next door to each other since conceptualisations of where people live are highly subjective (Galster, Reference Galster2001). This means the use of geographical boundaries is often only arbitrarily related to the conceptualisation of the exposure (in this case, neighbourhood disadvantage), leaving open the potential for misclassifying contextual variables. As a result, findings from analyses can potentially vary as a consequence of manipulating where the geographic boundaries are drawn; a problem often referred to as the ‘modifiable areal unit problem’ (Openshaw & Taylor, Reference Openshaw, Taylor, Wrigley and Bennet1981). Although concerted efforts have been made to address this issue using increasingly sophisticated technologies that involve tracking the whereabouts of individuals using global position systems to create bespoke neighbourhoods (Kwan, Reference Kwan2012), the ability to apply these techniques across a range of potential exposures and to upscale them to very large population health data remains a major challenge.

Joining the dots

Among many other standard critiques of this field of research has been the issue of selective (im)mobility, wherein place-based exposures cannot be understood as randomly distributed. Therefore, while a place-level variable may be objectively measured (as opposed to relying upon a participant's self-reported perception of their neighbourhood), estimation of the exposure-outcome pathway is still likely to be biased. Hence, those confounding factors that determine why a person may have ended up in one neighbourhood and not another need to be taken into account. For this purpose, the potential for wider use of ‘DAGs’ would be highly beneficial. DAGs can help to formalise hypothesised causal mechanisms, possible threats to their identification (both measured and unmeasured), along with other assumptions being made by the investigator (Pearl, Reference Pearl1995; Greenland et al. Reference Greenland, Pearl and Robins1999). Some studies have provided useful examples of how DAGs can be applied effectively to refine estimates of the impact of residential environments on health outcomes (Fleischer & Diez-Roux, Reference Fleischer and Diez-Roux2008; Chaix et al. Reference Chaix, Leal and Evans2010; Sharkey & Elwert, Reference Sharkey and Elwert2011). Although there may remain sources of confounding that an investigator is unable to measure that do have an impact on where a person elects to live, the use of DAGs helps to highlight this limitation, to keep the level of inference in check, and to identify potential targets for future research.

So what might the DAG for the analysis in this study have looked like? A basic version is illustrated in Fig. 4. The DAG specifies the effect of income on psychological distress is likely to be confounded by age and gender. The dotted line indicates we have hypothesised that neighbourhood deprivation moderates the impact of income on psychological distress. The DAG also identifies age and gender as confounders of neighbourhood deprivation. It does not take into account the plausibility of mediating pathways since these are less of an overt concern for the relative deprivation hypothesis (Wilkinson, Reference Wilkinson1999). Overall, this DAG indicates that the income effect on psychological distress is conditional on the level of neighbourhood deprivation to which a person is exposed. It implies that a person of a certain income was moved from a deprived neighbourhood to one considerably more affluent, ceretis paribus, the impact of income on psychological distress would change accordingly.

Fig. 4. A DAG specifying the impact of income on psychological distress, conditional upon neighbourhood deprivation and adjusted for age and gender.

Reality is undeniably more complex than this simple DAG suggests. Although we are hypothesising neighbourhood deprivation conditions the impact of income on psychological distress, a person is likely to select their neighbourhood to match their needs and resources, within the constraints of a budget (Cheshire, Reference Cheshire2007). Thus, people on low incomes usually live in deprived areas because the housing stock is more affordable. Conversely, houses in more attractive neighbourhoods tend to cost more because they supply the kudos and tangible resources that people might be looking for, such as good schools, safe streets, green spaces etc. So while the relative deprivation hypothesis implies that the socioeconomic circumstances of the neighbourhood in which a person lives modifies the impact of income on psychological distress, we must also face up to the truth that both neighbourhood choice and the ability to leave or remain within a particular neighbourhood are all strongly determined by a person's level of income, as well as a host of unmeasured factors; some of which are known, while others remain unknown.

In the case of this DAG, what this means is that exposure to neighbourhood deprivation is not random and that we should expect some level of correlation between income and local affluence. Those on low incomes who live in affluent areas are, therefore, rather unusual and some have expressed doubt over whether these groups can be treated with the same level of statistical credence as the rest of the sample (Oakes, Reference Oakes2004). Part of this problem is that although income is measured, it will not account fully for why people live where they do. Many people on low incomes may live in affluent areas because their home is fully paid (perhaps through inheritance) and what money they earn is for sustaining small pleasures (e.g., for the sociable side of work), rather than the need to pay bills and rent. That we have not been able to separate out those on low incomes who just about make ends meet v. those on low incomes who do so although choice is important, as it could then influence how long a person works, spends driving and the time left to allocate to activities which promote mental health (e.g., interactions with family and friends). While these variables appear to be mediating pathways, they are also confounders in the sense that people on low incomes in affluent areas who dislike having to work multiple jobs to pay high rents may move to more affordable neighbourhoods. Those persons on low incomes who remain in residents of affluent areas are either supported by other circumstances that go unmeasured, or are themselves rather exceptional, rendering the results for some commentators potentially moot. Nevertheless, the use of DAGs has helped to raise these issues for further debate and that is a positive outcome, for it helps to avoid making premature conclusions and policy prescriptions that may have unintended consequences on society.

More ambitious study designs

It is often suggested that observational (i.e., non-experimental) studies will remain the ‘bread and butter’ of scientists interested in understanding the role of place on health and life-chances, since the ability to implement experimental designs relevant to the research question at hand is often severely constrained by ethical, pragmatic and institutional concerns (e.g., Sampson, Reference Sampson2008). In contrast, it has been remarked by at least one commentator that there be a moratorium on applications to a major research council for studies of place and health using multivariate analytical methods (Oakes, Reference Oakes2013). Whether this statement was made with perhaps with a little tongue in cheek or not, it is important to consider the extent to which experimental and quasi-experimental study designs are feasible for ascertaining a higher degree of understanding on what neighbourhood features affect mental health; for better and for worse (Oakes, Reference Oakes2004; Macintyre, Reference Macintyre2011).

Perhaps the most well-known example in the field comes from what was originally a study of self-sufficiency and social mobility; the ‘Moving To Opportunity’ (MTO) project. A major strength of MTO's design was to allocate vouchers to a randomly selected group of socioeconomically disadvantaged participants, affording them the opportunity to move to somewhat more affluent neighbourhoods than that which they had previously lived in. This process eliminated much of the confounding related to selective (im)mobility, given that the ability to move to what was theorised to be areas of greater opportunity was randomly allocated. While the MTO investigators found little by ways of social mobility and self-sufficiency as a result of improving the socioeconomic circumstances of where people lived (Katz et al. Reference Katz, Kling and Liebman2001; Kling et al. Reference Kling, Liebman and Katz2007), what has since been found was improvements in mental health (Leventhal & Brooks-Gunn, Reference Leventhal and Brooks-Gunn2003; Ludwig et al. Reference Ludwig, Duncan, Gennetian, Katz, Kessler, Kling and Sanbonmatsu2012) as well as other positive health outcomes (Ludwig et al. Reference Ludwig, Sanbonmatsu, Gennetian, Adam, Duncan, Katz, Kessler, Kling, Lindau and Whitaker2011). Qualitative research following up those who moved from poor to more affluent neighbourhoods reported improvements in home aesthetics, more satisfaction and sense of neighbourhood togetherness, lower levels of crime and a belief that the new areas were better for bringing up children (Turney et al. Reference Turney, Kissane and Edin2013); perhaps another score for the ‘pull up/pull down’ hypothesis and against that of local relative deprivation.

MTO is clearly successful in many ways, not least in making the scientific community think about how research on place and health could be done using a randomised design. It is not done nearly enough and perhaps enthusiasm is diminished by the potentially rather daunting level of financial input that may be required to implement such a study. An MTO-style design would also not be very useful, however, for answering questions such as what happens when a feature of a neighbourhood changes around a community that remains in-situ? Arguably, this is a situation that reflects the likely decision-making process wherein changes in built environment are made in existing communities, rather than moving communities to entirely new areas. Recent examples include capitalising upon changes occurring within parks (Cohen et al. Reference Cohen, Golinelli, Williamson, Sehgal, Marsh and Mckenzie2009, Reference Cohen, Marsh, Williamson, Golinelli and Mckenzie2012; Branas et al. Reference Branas, Cheney, Macdonald, Tam, Jackson and Ten Have2011; Veitch et al. Reference Veitch, Ball, Crawford, Abbott and Salmon2012) and the opening of supermarkets (Wrigley et al. Reference Wrigley, Warm and Margetts2003; Cummins et al. Reference Cummins, Petticrew, Higgins, Findlay and Sparks2005, Reference Cummins, Flint and Matthews2014) and housing regeneration programmes (Egan et al. Reference Egan, Katikireddi, Kearns, Tannahill, Kalacs and Bond2013).

Assessing the potential impact of these neighbourhood-level changes around people who remain in the same place are essential, as the ability to modify the exposure of interest is not usually within the investigators control. Herein lie many key challenges, however. These changes in built environment are not randomly assigned; they are viewed as ‘natural experiments’ (Craig et al. Reference Craig, Cooper, Gunnell, Haw, Lawson, Macintyre, Ogilvie, Petticrew, Reeves and Sutton2012). Supermarket companies, for example, will not open their stores in random locations but in fact target them geographically, based at least in part upon the consumer profiles of the communities which they will likely serve.

A lack of blinding in these types of studies presents another problem. For example, as one park receives an upgrade, the qualities of another park located nearby that may be used as a control could diminish in relative (or absolute) terms, violating the stable unit treatment valuation assumption (or ‘SUTVA’) (Oakes, Reference Oakes2004). Meanwhile, one cannot force study participants to remain within the neighbourhood following the change in built environment. Some people may wish to capitalise on change in house prices or may not be able to afford a change in rent, whereas others may simply not like the change in their neighbourhood environment (among a myriad of possible reasons). The ability to leave the neighbourhood may be associated with mental and physical health and this may yet result in clustering of certain health outcomes where there is no causation (Boyle et al. Reference Boyle, Norman and Popham2009). Thus, the selective (im)mobility problem remains a major challenge not only for observational cross-sectional studies, but also those using experimental and quasi-experimental techniques. In these situations, rather than a nuisance, it is arguable that understanding the determinants of this health-selective (im)mobility is as central to the research enterprise as is the identification of ‘place effects’.

To conclude, while more ambitious study designs are encouraged, it is up to the scientists conducting those studies to be fully transparent in where the implementation of such a design minimises confounding and where it does not. Evaluations of natural experiments and quasi-experiments are crucial for enhancing the quality of evidence available for decision makers and they need research support from funding councils (although, maybe not entirely at the expense of observational studies). These types of study designs have clear guidelines available for their assessment (Craig et al. Reference Craig, Cooper, Gunnell, Haw, Lawson, Macintyre, Ogilvie, Petticrew, Reeves and Sutton2012) and have been used effectively to evaluate major place-based initiatives designed, at least in part, to promote better mental health (Melhuish et al. Reference Melhuish, Belsky, Leyland and Barnes2008; Edwards et al. Reference Edwards, Gray, Wise, Hayes, Katz, Muir and Patulny2011), as well as to understand the impact of structural change such as new supermarkets and park upgrades. Combining these designs with a careful selection of suitable (bespoke) geographical units to define exposure and the use of DAGs to identify potential threats to causal inference would be very helpful to enhance the quality of evidence available for decision makers who ultimately shape the built environments in which we live and the services we interact with.

Acknowledgements

We thank all of the men and women who participated in the 45 and Up Study. The 45 and Up Study is managed by the Sax Institute in collaboration with major partner Cancer Council New South Wales; and partners the Heart Foundation (NSW Division); NSW Ministry of Health; beyondblue: the national depression initiative; Ageing, Disability and Home Care, NSW Department of Family and Community Services; the Australian Red Cross Blood Service and UnitingCare Ageing.

Financial Support

This research received no specific grant from any funding agency, commercial or not-for-profit sectors.

Conflict of Interest

None

References

45 and up Study Collaborators (2008) Cohort profile: the 45 and up study. International Journal of Epidemiology 37, 941947.Google Scholar
Antonovsky, A (1996) The salutogenic model as a theory to guide health promotion. Health Promotion International 11, 1118.Google Scholar
Astell-Burt, T, Feng, X & Kolt, GS (2013). Mental health benefits of neighbourhood green space are stronger among physically active adults in middle-to-older age: evidence from 260,061 Australians. Preventive Medicine 57, 601606.CrossRefGoogle ScholarPubMed
Astell-Burt, T, Mitchell, R, Hartig, T (2014). The association between green space and mental health varies across the lifecourse. A longitudinal study. Journal of Epidemiology and Community Health 68, 578583.Google Scholar
Australian Government (2011). Our Cities Our Future: A National Urban Policy for a Productive, Sustainable and Liveable Future. Department of Infrastructure and Transport: Canberra.Google Scholar
Bond, L, Sautkina, E, Kearns, A (2010). Mixed messages about mixed tenure: do reviews tell the real story? Housing Studies, 126.Google Scholar
Boyle, P, Norman, P, Rees, P (2004 a) Changing places. Do changes in the relative deprivation of areas influence limiting long-term illness and mortality among non-migrant people living in non-deprived households? Social Science and Medicine 58, 24592471.Google Scholar
Boyle, P, Norman, P, Popham, F (2009). Social mobility: evidence that it can widen health inequalities. Social Science and Medicine 68, 18351842.CrossRefGoogle ScholarPubMed
Boyle, PJ, Gatrell, AC, Duke-Williams, O (2004 b). Limiting long-term illness and locality deprivation in England and Wales: Acknowledging the ‘socio-spatial context’. In The Geographies of Health Inequality in the Developed World (ed. Boyle, PJ, Curtis, S, Graham, E and Moore, E). Ashgate: London, 293308.Google Scholar
Branas, CC, Cheney, RA, Macdonald, JM, Tam, VW, Jackson, TD, Ten Have, TR (2011). A difference-in-differences analysis of health, safety, and greening vacant urban space. American Journal of Epidemiology kwr273.Google Scholar
Chaix, B, Merlo, J, Subramanian, S, Lynch, J, Chauvin, P (2005). Comparison of a spatial perspective with the multilevel analytical approach in neighborhood studies: the case of mental and behavioral disorders due to psychoactive substance use in Malmö, Sweden, 2001. American Journal of Epidemiology 162, 171182.Google Scholar
Chaix, B, Leal, C, Evans, D (2010). Neighborhood-level confounding in epidemiologic studies: unavoidable challenges, uncertain solutions. Epidemiology 21, 124127.Google Scholar
Cheshire, P (2007). Segregated Neighbourhoods and Mixed Communities: A Critical Analysis. Joseph Rowntree Foundation: York.Google Scholar
Clark, C, Myron, R, Stansfeld, S, Candy, B (2007). A systematic review of the evidence on the effect of the built and physical environment on mental health. Journal of Public Mental Health 6, 1427.Google Scholar
Cohen, DA, Golinelli, D, Williamson, S, Sehgal, A, Marsh, T, Mckenzie, TL (2009). Effects of park improvements on park use and physical activity: policy and programming implications. American Journal of Preventive Medicine 37, 475480.Google Scholar
Cohen, DA, Marsh, T, Williamson, S, Golinelli, D, Mckenzie, TL (2012). Impact and cost-effectiveness of family Fitness Zones: a natural experiment in urban public parks. Health and Place 18, 3945.Google Scholar
Commission on Social Determinants of Health (2008). Closing the Gap in a Generation: Health Equity through Action on the Social Determinants of Health: Final Report of the Commission on Social Determinants of Health. World Health Organization: Geneva, Switzerland.Google Scholar
Corburn, J (2007). Reconnecting with our roots. American urban planning and public health in the twenty-first century. Urban Affairs Review 42, 688713.Google Scholar
Cox, M, Boyle, PJ, Davey, PG, Feng, Z, Morris, AD (2007). Locality deprivation and Type 2 diabetes incidence: a local test of relative inequalities. Social Science and Medicine 65, 19531964.Google Scholar
Craig, P, Cooper, C, Gunnell, D, Haw, S, Lawson, K, Macintyre, S, Ogilvie, D, Petticrew, M, Reeves, B, Sutton, M (2012). Using natural experiments to evaluate population health interventions: new Medical Research Council guidance. Journal of Epidemiology and Community Health 66, 11821186.Google Scholar
Cummins, S, Petticrew, M, Higgins, C, Findlay, A, Sparks, L (2005). Large scale food retailing as an intervention for diet and health: quasi-experimental evaluation of a natural experiment. Journal of Epidemiology and Community Health 59, 10351040.CrossRefGoogle ScholarPubMed
Cummins, S, Flint, E, Matthews, SA (2014). New neighborhood grocery store increased awareness of food access but did not alter dietary habits or obesity. Health Affairs 33, 283291.Google Scholar
De Vries, R, Blane, D, Netuveli, G (2014). Long-term exposure to income inequality: implications for physical functioning at older ages. European Journal of Ageing 11, 1929.CrossRefGoogle ScholarPubMed
Diez Roux, AV (2004). Estimating neighborhood health effects: the challenges of causal inference in a complex world. Social Science and Medicine 58, 19531960.Google Scholar
Dorling, D, Smith, G, Noble, M, Wright, G, Burrows, R, Bradshaw, J, Joshi, H, Pattie, C, Mitchell, R, Green, AE (2001). How much does place matter?. Environment and Planning A 33, 335–69.Google Scholar
Durlauf, SN (2004). Neighborhood effects. In Handbook of Regional and Urban Economics (ed. Henderson, SV and Thisse, J-F). Elsevier: Amsterdam, 21732242.Google Scholar
Edwards, B, Gray, M, Wise, S, Hayes, A, Katz, I, Muir, K, Patulny, R (2011). Early impacts of Communities for Children on children and families: findings from a quasi-experimental cohort study. Journal of Epidemiology and Community Health 65, 909914.CrossRefGoogle ScholarPubMed
Egan, M, Katikireddi, SV, Kearns, A, Tannahill, C, Kalacs, M, Bond, L (2013). Health effects of neighborhood demolition and housing improvement: a prospective controlled study of 2 natural experiments in Urban Renewal. American Journal of Public Health 103, e47e53.CrossRefGoogle ScholarPubMed
Faris, REL, Dunham, HW (1939). Mental Disorders in Urban Areas. University of Chicago Press: Chicago.Google Scholar
Fleischer, N, Diez-Roux, A (2008). Using directed acyclic graphs to guide analyses of neighbourhood health effects: an introduction. Journal of Epidemiology and Community Health 62, 842846.Google Scholar
Flowerdew, R, Manley, DJ, Sabel, CE (2008). Neighbourhood effects on health: does it matter where you draw the boundaries? Social Science and Medicine 66, 12411255.Google Scholar
Fone, D, Greene, G, Farewell, D, White, J, Kelly, M, Dunstan, F (2013). Common mental disorders, neighbourhood income inequality and income deprivation: small-area multilevel analysis. British Journal of Psychiatry 202, 286293.Google Scholar
Furukawa, TA, Kessler, RC, Slade, T, Andrews, G (2003). The performance of the K6 and K10 screening scales for psychological distress in the Australian National Survey of Mental Health and Well-Being. Psychological Medicine 33, 357362.Google Scholar
Galster, G (2001). On the nature of neighbourhood. Urban Studies 38, 21112124.Google Scholar
Galster, G, Hedman, L (2013). Measuring neighbourhood effects non-experimentally: how much do alternative methods matter? Housing Studies 28, 473498.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Galster, GC (2008). Quantifying the effect of neighbourhood on individuals: challenges, alternative approaches, and promising directions. Schmollers Jahrbuch 128, 748.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Gatrell, AC (1997). Structures of geographical and social space and their consequences for human health. Geografiska Annaler: Series B, Human Geography 79, 141154.Google Scholar
Granovetter, M (1973). The strength of weak ties. American Journal of Sociology 78, 13601380.Google Scholar
Greenland, S, Pearl, J, Robins, JM (1999). Causal diagrams for epidemiologic research. Epidemiology 3748.Google Scholar
Henderson, C, Diez Roux, A, Jacobs, D, Kiefe, C, West, D, Williams, D (2005). Neighbourhood characteristics, individual level socioeconomic factors, and depressive symptoms in young adults: the CARDIA study. Journal of Epidemiology and Community Health 59, 322.Google Scholar
Jackson, RJ, Dannenberg, AL, Frumkin, H (2013). Health and the built environment: 10 years after. American Journal of Public Health 103, 15421544.Google Scholar
Jencks, C, Mayer, S (1990). The social consequences of growing up in a poor neighborhood. In Inner-city poverty in the United States (ed. Lynn, LE and Mcgeary, MFH). National Academy Press: Washington, DC, 186.Google Scholar
Jones, K, Duncan, C (1996). People and places: the multilevel model as a general framework for the quantitative analysis of geographical data. Spatial Analysis: Modelling in a GIS Environment 79104.Google Scholar
Katz, L, Kling, J, Liebman, J (2001). Moving to opportunity in Boston: early results of a randomized mobility experiment. Quarterly Journal of Economics 116, 607654.Google Scholar
Kent, JL, Thompson, S (2014). The three domains of urban planning for health and well-being. Journal of Planning Literature, 0885412214520712.Google Scholar
Kim, D (2008). Blues from the neighborhood? Neighborhood characteristics and depression. Epidemiologic Reviews 30, 101117.Google Scholar
Kling, J, Liebman, J, Katz, L (2007). Experimental analysis of neighborhood effects. Econometrica 75, 83119.Google Scholar
Kling, J, Kessler, R, Ludwig, J, Sanbonmatsu, L, Liebman, J, Duncan, G, Katz, L (2008). What can we learn about neighborhood effects from the moving to opportunity experiment? American Journal of Sociology 114, 144188.Google Scholar
Kondo, N, Sembajwe, G, Kawachi, I, Van Dam, RM, Subramanian, S, Yamagata, Z (2009). Income inequality, mortality, and self rated health: meta-analysis of multilevel studies. BMJ 339.Google Scholar
Kwan, M-P (2012). How GIS can help address the uncertain geographic context problem in social science research. Annals of GIS 18, 245255.Google Scholar
Leventhal, T, Brooks-Gunn, J (2003). Moving to opportunity: an experimental study of neighborhood effects on mental health. American Journal of Public Health 93, 15761582.Google Scholar
Losert, C, SCHMAUß, M, Becker, T, Kilian, R (2012). Area characteristics and admission rates of people with schizophrenia and affective disorders in a German rural catchment area. Epidemiology and Psychiatric Sciences 21, 371379.Google Scholar
Ludwig, J, Sanbonmatsu, L, Gennetian, L, Adam, E, Duncan, GJ, Katz, LF, Kessler, RC, Kling, JR, Lindau, ST, Whitaker, RC (2011). Neighborhoods, obesity, and diabetes—a randomized social experiment. New England Journal of Medicine 365, 15091519.Google Scholar
Ludwig, J, Duncan, GJ, Gennetian, LA, Katz, LF, Kessler, RC, Kling, JR, Sanbonmatsu, L (2012). Neighborhood effects on the long-term well-being of low-income adults. Science 337, 15051510.Google Scholar
Lynch, J, Davey Smith, G (2002). Commentary: income inequality and health: the end of the story? International Journal of Epidemiology 31, 549551.Google Scholar
Macintyre, S (2007). Deprivation amplification revisited; or, is it always true that poorer places have poorer access to resources for healthy diets and physical activity? International Journal of Behavioral Nutrition and Physical Activity 4, 32.Google Scholar
Macintyre, S (2011). Good intentions and received wisdom are not good enough: the need for controlled trials in public health. Journal of Epidemiology and Community Health 65, 564567.Google Scholar
Macintyre, S, Ellaway, A, Cummins, S (2002). Place effects on health: how can we conceptualise, operationalise and measure them? Social Science and Medicine 55, 125139.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Mair, C, Roux, A, Galea, S (2008). Are neighbourhood characteristics associated with depressive symptoms? A review of evidence. Journal of Epidemiology and Community Health 62, 940.Google Scholar
Marmot, M, Wilkinson, RG (2001). Psychosocial and material pathways in the relation between income and health: a response to Lynch et al. British Medical Journal 322, 1233.Google Scholar
Marmot, MG (2006). Status syndrome. Journal of the American Medical Association 295, 13041307.Google Scholar
Massey, DS, Gross, AB, Eggers, ML (1991). Segregation, the concentration of poverty, and the life chances of individuals. Social Science Research 20, 397420.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Mclafferty, SL (2003). GIS and health care. Annual Review of Public Health 24, 2542.Google Scholar
Melhuish, E, Belsky, J, Leyland, AH, Barnes, J (2008). Effects of fully-established Sure Start Local Programmes on 3-year-old children and their families living in England: a quasi-experimental observational study. Lancet 372, 16411647.Google Scholar
Merlo, J, Chaix, B (2006). Neighbourhood effects and the real world beyond randomized community trials: a reply to Michael J Oakes. International Journal of Epidemiology 35, 13611363.Google Scholar
Merlo, J, Chaix, B, Ohlsson, H, Beckman, A, Johnell, K, Hjerpe, P, Råstam, L, Larsen, K (2006). A brief conceptual tutorial of multilevel analysis in social epidemiology: using measures of clustering in multilevel logistic regression to investigate contextual phenomena. Journal of Epidemiology and Community Health 60, 290297.CrossRefGoogle ScholarPubMed
Muntaner, C, Lynch, J (1999). Income inequality, social cohesion, and class relations: a critique of Wilkinson's neo-Durkheimian research program. International Journal of Health Services 29, 5982.CrossRefGoogle ScholarPubMed
Murayama, H, Fujiwara, Y, Kawachi, I (2012). Social capital and health: a review of prospective multilevel studies. Journal of Epidemiology 22, 179.Google Scholar
Nilsson, K, Sangster, M, Konijnendijk, CC (2011). Introduction. In Forests, Trees and Human Health (ed.Nilsson, K, Sangster, M, Gallis, C, Hartig, T, De Vries, S, Seeland, K and Schipperijn, J). Springer: Netherlands.Google Scholar
Oakes, JM (2004). The (mis) estimation of neighborhood effects: causal inference for a practicable social epidemiology. Social Science and Medicine 58, 19291952.Google Scholar
Oakes, JM (2013). Invited commentary: paths and pathologies of social epidemiology. American Journal of Epidemiology 178, 850851.Google Scholar
Openshaw, S, Taylor, PJ (1981). The modifiable areal unit problem. In Quantitative Geography: A British View (ed. Wrigley, N and Bennet, RJ). Routledge and Kegan Paul: London.Google Scholar
Ostendorf, W, Musterd, S, De Vos, S (2001). Social mix and the neighbourhood effect. Policy ambitions and empirical evidence. Housing Studies 16, 371380.Google Scholar
Pabayo, R, Kawachi, I, Gilman, SE (2013). Income inequality among American states and the incidence of major depression. Journal of Epidemiology and Community Health, jech-2013-203093.Google Scholar
Pearl, J (1995). Causal diagrams for empirical research. Biometrika 82, 669688.Google Scholar
Pink, B (2011). Technical Paper: Socio-Economic Indexes for Areas (SEIFA). Australian Bureau of Statistics: Canberra.Google Scholar
Putnam, RD (2007). E Pluribus Unum: diversity and community in the twenty-first century the 2006 Johan Skytte prize lecture. Scandinavian Political Studies 30, 137.Google Scholar
Rasbash, J, Browne, W, Goldstein, H, Yang, M, Plewis, I, Healy, M, Woodhouse, G, Draper, D, Langford, I, Lewis, T (2000). A user's Guide to MLwiN. Institute of Education: London, p. 286.Google Scholar
Runciman, WG (1966). Relative Deprivation and Social Justice. Routledge: London.Google Scholar
Rydin, Y, Bleahu, A, Davies, M, Dávila, JD, Friel, S, De Grandis, G, Groce, N, Hallal, PC, Hamilton, I, Howden-Chapman, P (2012). Shaping cities for health: complexity and the planning of urban environments in the 21st century. Lancet 379, 2079.Google Scholar
Sampson, R (2008). Moving to inequality: neighborhood effects and experiments Mmeet social structure. American Journal of Sociology 114, 189231.Google Scholar
Sharkey, P, Elwert, F (2011). The legacy of disadvantage: multigenerational neighborhood effects on cognitive ability. American Journal of Sociology 116, 1934.CrossRefGoogle ScholarPubMed
Slater, T (2013). Your life chances affect where you live: a critique of the ‘cottage industry’ of neighbourhood effects research. International Journal of Urban and Regional Research.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Stafford, M, Chandola, T, Marmot, M (2007). Association between fear of crime and mental health and physical functioning. American Journal of Public Health 97.Google Scholar
Subramanian, S, Kawachi, I (2004). Income inequality and health: what have we learned so far? Epidemiologic Reviews 26, 7891.Google Scholar
Subramanian, S, O'malley, AJ (2010). Modeling neighborhood effects: the futility of comparing mixed and marginal approaches. Epidemiology (Cambridge, MA) 21, 475.Google Scholar
Subramanian, SV, Jones, K, Kaddour, A, Krieger, N (2009). Revisiting Robinson: the perils of individualistic and ecologic fallacy. International Journal of Epidemiology 38, 342360.CrossRefGoogle ScholarPubMed
Truong, KD, Ma, S (2006). A systematic review of relations between neighborhoods and mental health. Journal of Mental Health Policy and Economics 9, 137.Google Scholar
Turney, K, Kissane, R, Edin, K (2013). After moving to opportunity how moving to a low-poverty neighborhood improves mental health among African American women. Society and Mental Health 3, 121.Google Scholar
Vanderweele, TJ (2010). Direct and indirect effects for neighborhood-based clustered and longitudinal data. Sociological Methods and Research 38, 515544.Google Scholar
Veitch, J, Ball, K, Crawford, D, Abbott, GR, Salmon, J (2012). Park improvements and park activity: a natural experiment. American Journal of Preventive Medicine 42, 616619.Google Scholar
Wight, RG, Aneshensel, CS, Miller-Martinez, D, Botticello, AL, Cummings, JR, Karlamangla, AS, Seeman, TE (2006). Urban neighborhood context, educational attainment, and cognitive function among older adults. American Journal of Epidemiology 163, 10711078.Google Scholar
Wilkinson, R, Pickett, K (2009). The Spirit Level: Why More Equal Societies Almost Always Do Better. Penguin (Allen Lane): London.Google Scholar
Wilkinson, RG (1999). Income inequality, social cohesion, and health: clarifying the theory–a reply to Muntaner and Lynch. International Journal of Health Services 29, 525544.Google Scholar
Wilson, A (2014). Budget cuts risk halting Australia's progress in preventing chronic disease. Medical Journal of Australia 200, 558.Google Scholar
Wilson, WJ (1987). The Truly Disadvantaged: The Inner City, the Underclass, and Public Policy. University of Chicago Press: Chicago.Google Scholar
Wrigley, N, Warm, D, Margetts, B (2003). Deprivation, diet, and food-retail access: findings from the Leeds food deserts' study. Environment and Planning A 35, 151188.Google Scholar
Figure 0

Fig. 1. Geographical variation in psychological distress, expressed in the form of odds ratios on a residual plot, adjusted for age.

Figure 1

Fig. 2. Geographical variation in psychological distress in Sydney Metropolitan area, expressed as a map of area-level residuals classified above, below or not significantly different to the average across NSW, adjusted for age and gender.

Figure 2

Fig. 3. Psychological distress and local relative deprivation, adjusted for age and gender.

Figure 3

Fig. 4. A DAG specifying the impact of income on psychological distress, conditional upon neighbourhood deprivation and adjusted for age and gender.