There have been some rumbles about Italy for a while. Italy's budget deficits are relatively modest compared to, say, Ireland, but their debt is about 120% of GDP. The government has passed a plan that will balance the budget by 2014, but as with most such plans, most of the cutting comes later, while the current cuts are small. This may well be sensible fiscal policy, given the current economic climate, but it is not reassuring to the markets. Mike Shedlock estimates that Italy needs to borrow about €356 billion ($500 billion) in 2011 to cover its deficit, and roll over outstanding debt. Their 10-years are now trading at something north of 5%. Most of the estimates I've seen say that a debt death spiral becomes likely when rates hit somewhere between 6-7%, because the debt service costs start blowing up the budget deficits.
If Italy goes, it's not clear that the rest of Europe can save them. In the FT, Neil Dennis says people are talking about doubling the euro bailout fund to €1.5 trillion--or about three times the size of TARP. And you may have noticed that the bailout fund has not actually stopped Greece's descent into debt madness. Italy's public debt is not much smaller than Germany's, even though the latter obviously has a much bigger (and richer) economy. In the event that things really go south on the Italian peninsula, I don't think there's enough money in the rest of Europe to provide a rescue package.
Meanwhile, conditions in the other PIIGSs are worsening. European leaders seem to be giving up on the notion of some sort of voluntary debt swap after the ratings agencies noted that they would be forced to call this what it is: a default. Since the Greek debt load does not seem to be in any way sustainable, they're going to have to do something. Riots in Athens seem to be making it increasingly clear that over the long term, "something" is not going to be indefinitely decreasing their government consumption in order to make debt service payments. That leaves making bondholders take some sort of a haircut, aka default. It sounds as if the continent's financial leaders are starting to decide that if Greece's only option is some kind of default, they might as well bite the bullet and do the thing.
This will not be pretty. For starters, if they default, but stay in the euro, then unless really considerable aid is forthcoming from the rest of Europe, they're going to lose most of the advantages of the euro (low debt premium) while retaining the disadvantages (excessively tight monetary policy for a country that is going to be experiencing capital flight and even deeper recession). Countries like Argentina got at least some tourism and export boost from very cheap prices after they defaulted and went off their currency peg; Greece won't even get that if the euro remains at an ouchy 1.4 to the dollar. (If it doesn't remain there, but instead sinks . . . well, that means the euro zone will be having all sorts of other problems. More on which in a minute.)
Of course, even defaulting and going off the peg is hardly a gateway to paradise. It is true that after an initial period of horrifying double-digit contraction, Argentina boomed . . . but Argentina was an agricultural commodity exporter in an era when soaring Chinese demand was causing rapidly rising prices in many commodity markets. And after playing hardball with their foreign investors, Argentina has had limited access to global capital markets, which means they've had to resort to some desperate measures, like seizing the Argentinian equivalent of 401ks, and running the printing presses, to keep the government's finances in balance. This weekend, the Wall Street Journal informed me that Argentina has now resorted to filing criminal charges against economic consulting firms whose reports indicate that actual inflation exceeds the officially reported numbers by a factor of two to three.
Either way, what Greece does will have implications for the rest of Europe--and for us. As NPR's Jacob Goldstein says, interbank lending between various European nations, and the US, "looks like a web made by an insane spider".
Once Greece defaults, the immediate outcome is crisis, not calm. Within Greece, they'll need to find some way to close their primary deficit, and stem capital flight, while the economy craters. Outside of Greece, Portugal, Ireland, Spain and Italy will face growing pressure on their debt. The euro may plummet--good for German exports, not so good for attracting the kind of capital needed to keep the banking system solvent. And the rest of us will be scrambling to keep the contagion from taking down our banking systems, or our economies. No one wants another Credit-Anstalt. But I'm not sure anyone feels quite confident we can prevent it. As I tweeted yesterday, if the drama continues on both sides of the Atlantic, we may soon get to witness a paradox: where does a capital "flight to safety" go if America defaults while the euro implodes?
For those who didn't go to prestigious schools, don't come from money, and aren't interested in sports and booze—it's near impossible to gain access to the best paying jobs.
As income inequality in the U.S. strikes historic highs, many people are starting to feel that the American dream is either dead or out of reach. Only 64 percent of Americans still believe that it’s possible to go from rags to riches, and, in another poll, 63 percent said they did not believe their children would be better off than they were. These days, the idea that anyone who works hard can become wealthy is at best a tough sell.
There are two types of people in the world: those with hundreds of unread messages, and those who can’t relax until their inboxes are cleared out.
For some, it’s a spider. For others, it’s an unexpected run-in with an ex. But for me, discomfort is a dot with a number in it: 1,328 unread-message notifications? I just can’t fathom how anyone lives like that.
How is it that some people remain calm as unread messages trickle into their inboxes and then roost there unattended, while others can’t sit still knowing that there are bolded-black emails and red-dotted Slack messages? I may operate toward the extreme end of compulsive notification-eliminators, but surveys suggest I’m not alone: One 2012 study found that 70 percent of work emails were attended to within six seconds of their arrival.
This has led me to a theory that there are two types of emailers in the world: Those who can comfortably ignore unread notifications, and those who feel the need to take action immediately.
Along with the Nancy Drew series, almost all of the thrillers in the popular teenage franchise were produced by ghostwriters, thanks to a business model that proved to be prescient.
In the opening pages of a recent installment of the children’s book series The Hardy Boys, black smoke drifts though the ruined suburb of Bayport. The town's residents, dressed in tatters and smeared with ash, stumble past the local pharmacy and diner. Shards of glass litter the sidewalk. “Unreal,” says the mystery-solving teenager Joe Hardy—and he's right. Joe and his brother Frank are on a film set, and the people staggering through the scene are actors dressed as zombies. But as is always the case with Hardy Boysbooks, something still isn’t quite right: This time, malfunctioning sets nearly kill several actors, and the brothers find themselves in the middle of yet another mystery.
Soccer’s international governing body has long been suspected of mass corruption, but a 47-count U.S. indictment is one of the first real steps to accountability.
Imagine this: A shadowy multinational syndicate, sprawling across national borders but keeping its business quiet. Founded in the early 20th century, it has survived a tumultuous century, gradually expanding its power. It cuts deals with national governments and corporations alike, and has a hand in a range of businesses. Some are legitimate; others are suspected of beings little more than protection rackets or vehicles for kickbacks. Nepotism is rampant. Even though it’s been widely rumored to be a criminal enterprise for years, it has used its clout to cow the justice system into leaving it alone. It has branches spread across the globe, arranged in an elaborate hierarchical system. Its top official, both reviled and feared and demanding complete fealty, is sometimes referred to as the godfather.
In most states, where euthanasia is illegal, physicians can offer only hints and euphemisms for patients to interpret.
SAN FRANCISCO—Physician-assisted suicide is illegal in all but five states. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen in the rest. Sick patients sometimes ask for help in hastening their deaths, and some doctors will hint, vaguely, how to do it.
This leads to bizarre, veiled conversations between medical professionals and overwhelmed families. Doctors and nurses want to help but also want to avoid prosecution, so they speak carefully, parsing their words. Family members, in the midst of one of the most confusing and emotional times of their lives, are left to interpret euphemisms.
That’s what still frustrates Hope Arnold. She says throughout the 10 months her husband J.D. Falk was being treated for stomach cancer in 2011, no one would talk straight with them.
The plight of non-tenured professors is widely known, but what about the impact they have on the students they’re hired to instruct?
Imagine meeting your English professor by the trunk of her car for office hours, where she doles out information like a taco vendor in a food truck. Or getting an e-mail error message when you write your former biology professor asking for a recommendation because she is no longer employed at the same college. Or attending an afternoon lecture in which your anthropology professor seems a little distracted because he doesn’t have enough money for bus fare. This is an increasingly widespread reality of college education.
Many students—and parents who foot the bills—may assume that all college professors are adequately compensated professionals with a distinct arrangement in which they have a job for life. In actuality those are just tenured professors, who represent less than a quarter of all college faculty. Odds are that students will be taught by professors with less job security and lower pay than those tenured employees, which research shows results in diminished services for students.
New research confirms what they say about nice guys.
Smile at the customer. Bake cookies for your colleagues. Sing your subordinates’ praises. Share credit. Listen. Empathize. Don’t drive the last dollar out of a deal. Leave the last doughnut for someone else.
Sneer at the customer. Keep your colleagues on edge. Claim credit. Speak first. Put your feet on the table. Withhold approval. Instill fear. Interrupt. Ask for more. And by all means, take that last doughnut. You deserve it.
Follow one of those paths, the success literature tells us, and you’ll go far. Follow the other, and you’ll die powerless and broke. The only question is, which is which?
Of all the issues that preoccupy the modern mind—Nature or nurture? Is there life in outer space? Why can’t America field a decent soccer team?—it’s hard to think of one that has attracted so much water-cooler philosophizing yet so little scientific inquiry. Does it pay to be nice? Or is there an advantage to being a jerk?
In any case, people have probably heard the phrase in reference to something gone awry at work or in life. In either setting, when the shit does hit the fan, people will tend to look to the most competent person in the room to take over.
And too bad for that person. A new paper by a team of researchers from Duke University, University of Georgia, and University of Colorado looks at not only how extremely competent people are treated by their co-workers and peers, but how those people feel when, at crucial moments, everyone turns to them. They find that responsible employees are not terribly pleased about this dynamic either.
The Islamic State is no mere collection of psychopaths. It is a religious group with carefully considered beliefs, among them that it is a key agent of the coming apocalypse. Here’s what that means for its strategy—and for how to stop it.
What is the Islamic State?
Where did it come from, and what are its intentions? The simplicity of these questions can be deceiving, and few Western leaders seem to know the answers. In December, The New York Times published confidential comments by Major General Michael K. Nagata, the Special Operations commander for the United States in the Middle East, admitting that he had hardly begun figuring out the Islamic State’s appeal. “We have not defeated the idea,” he said. “We do not even understand the idea.” In the past year, President Obama has referred to the Islamic State, variously, as “not Islamic” and as al-Qaeda’s “jayvee team,” statements that reflected confusion about the group, and may have contributed to significant strategic errors.
Kalaupapa, Hawaii, is a former leprosy colony that’s still home to several of the people who were exiled there through the 1960s. Once they all pass away, the federal government wants to open up the isolated peninsula to tourism. But at what cost?
Not so long ago, people in Hawaii who were diagnosed with leprosy were exiled to an isolated peninsula attached to one of the tiniest and least-populated islands. Details on the history of the colony—known as Kalaupapa—for leprosy patients are murky: Fewer than 1,000 of the tombstones than span across the village’s various cemeteries are marked, many of them having succumbed to weather damage or invasive vegetation. A few have been nearly devoured by trees. But records suggest that at least 8,000 individuals were forcibly removed from their families and relocated to Kalaupapa over a century starting in the 1860s. Almost all of them were Native Hawaiian.
Sixteen of those patients, ages 73 to 92, are still alive. They include six who remain in Kalaupapa voluntarily as full-time residents, even though the quarantine was lifted in 1969—a decade after Hawaii became a state and more than two decades after drugs were developed to treat leprosy, today known as Hansen’s disease. The experience of being exiled was traumatic, as was the heartbreak of abandonment, for both the patients themselves and their family members. Kalaupapa is secluded by towering, treacherous sea cliffs from the rest of Molokai—an island with zero traffic lights that takes pride in its rural seclusion—and accessing it to this day remains difficult. Tourists typically arrive via mule. So why didn’t every remaining patient embrace the new freedom? Why didn’t everyone reconnect with loved ones and revel in the conveniences of civilization? Many of Kalaupapa’s patients forged paradoxical bonds with their isolated world. Many couldn’t bear to leave it. It was “the counterintuitive twinning of loneliness and community,” wrote The New York Times in 2008. “All that dying and all of that living.”