I wrote earlier about what the jobs numbers mean for the 2012 election (hint: they are not good for the current administration). But at some level, who cares? This is the aspect that concerns Washington most, but it is surely the least important consideration: neither Barack Obama, nor his staff, are going to have any trouble finding new employment in the event that they are terminated come January 2013.
But for people who are not in the White House, the implications really are devastating. Unemployment is one of the most devastating things that can happen to you in American society. Long-term unemployment is expecially bad--and that's what we're suffering from. It has been at unprecedented highs in this recession. You can see the job market story in three graphs from the BLS JOLTS survey, which measures turnover.
The above graph shows separations, hires, and the unemployment rate. What it shows is that separations didn't rise during the recession--except for a brief uptick during the financial crisis, they actually fell. That seems to be because people stopped quitting their jobs, which by late 2009, is offsetting layoffs:
But as of April, the latest JOLTS data that's available, hiring had only recovered slightly. (And of course, in the last two months, it basically fell back to zero net new jobs.) That means that we're left with a giant overhang of unemployed people.
That's why long-term unemployment has become such a problem. Our unemployment problem is not, as in previous recessions, that too many people are entering unemployment. Layoffs and discharges are actually lower than they've been in a decade. Rather, our problem is that people aren't exiting unemployment. And that's a much bigger issue.
Human capital is like almost any other form of capital: it is a depreciating asset. The longer you stay out of the workforce, the less valuable you are to potential employers. You lose market intelligence and industry connections. Your technical knowledge and skills atrophy. And as my colleague Don Peck wrote in a devastating piece last year, the psychological effects of long-term unemployment change you permanently. Many of the people who have now been unemployed for years may never work again, or not at anything like the income that they had been expecting.
I was unemployed for basically two years between the time I graduated from business school in 2001, and the time I accepted a job with The Economist in 2003. I was much luckier than most people in that situation, both because my parents let me stay in their spare bedroom, and because I was working during much of that time--freelancing, flirting with a start up, doing some tech consulting, and of course, working in a trailer at Ground Zero. But none of these were permanent, and at the time, it wasn't clear that any of them were going to turn into something. I felt the isolation and the desperate fear of everyone who doesn't have a "real job", the people who don't know how they're going to earn enough over the next forty years to keep body and soul together. I experienced real despair for the first time in my life. And it changed me, permanently.
The least important change was the one that is best measured: people who have a bout of unemployment at the beginning of their careers still earn less than their peers ten years later. What really matters is how it changed my outlook on the world. I became afraid then in a way that has never really left me. I obsess about economic security. I catastrophize small setbacks. Before 2001, I was fairly blithely indifferent to the prospect of misfortune; now I spend an awful lot of time cataloguing everything that could possibly go wrong. My grandfather used to hide pretty substantial sums of money around the house, the legacy of the Great Depression's bank failures, which I thought was very funny. Now it sounds sort of sensible.
There was also the crushing sense of isolation, and failure. I avoided friends who found my unemployment an awkward topic of non-conversation. I couldn't do much of anything else, because I didn't have any money. And dating was . . . awkward. I remember being on a date with someone who took me to see Avenue Q. It was a great show--but hard to enjoy as I writhed at its similarity to my own life, and at what the guy next to me must be thinking. (We ended up dating for years, and when I finally told that story, much later, he was incredulous. "Are you nuts?" Yes, yes I was.)
When I was finally offered a job by The Economist, I was taken aback; I had stopped believing anything good would happen, ever. Then I blurted "I'll take it" before I even asked how much it would pay. As soon as I got off the phone with my new boss, I called my boyfriend (Avenue Q guy, now a year in), said "I got a job", and then, to my surprise and horror, burst into tears. It is the only time in my life, except for my wedding, that I have cried from joy.
And that's what happens to the long-term unemployed who were young and flexible when it happened, who find awesome careers that are way better than the career track they got knocked off of, who had terrific familial support, and enough temporary or part-time work to have no immediate fears about where their next meal was coming from. Now think about what is happening to millions of people out there who don't have that: whose savings and social networks are exhausted (or were never very big to begin with), who are in their fifties and not young enough to retire, but very hard to place with an employer who will pay them as much as they were worth to their old firm. Think of the people who can't support their children, or themselves. Think of their despair.
That is what these numbers mean: millions of people, staring into the abyss of an empty future. We don't know how to re-employ them. The last time this happened, in the Great Depression, World War II eventually came along and soaked up everyone in the labor force who could breathe and carry a toolbag. I hope to God we're not going to do that again, so what are we going to do with all these people?
It happened gradually—and until the U.S. figures out how to treat the problem, it will only get worse.
It’s 2020, four years from now. The campaign is under way to succeed the president, who is retiring after a single wretched term. Voters are angrier than ever—at politicians, at compromisers, at the establishment. Congress and the White House seem incapable of working together on anything, even when their interests align. With lawmaking at a standstill, the president’s use of executive orders and regulatory discretion has reached a level that Congress views as dictatorial—not that Congress can do anything about it, except file lawsuits that the divided Supreme Court, its three vacancies unfilled, has been unable to resolve.
On Capitol Hill, Speaker Paul Ryan resigned after proving unable to pass a budget, or much else. The House burned through two more speakers and one “acting” speaker, a job invented following four speakerless months. The Senate, meanwhile, is tied in knots by wannabe presidents and aspiring talk-show hosts, who use the chamber as a social-media platform to build their brands by obstructing—well, everything. The Defense Department is among hundreds of agencies that have not been reauthorized, the government has shut down three times, and, yes, it finally happened: The United States briefly defaulted on the national debt, precipitating a market collapse and an economic downturn. No one wanted that outcome, but no one was able to prevent it.
As it’s moved beyond the George R.R. Martin novels, the series has evolved both for better and for worse.
Well, that was more like it. Sunday night’s Game of Thrones finale, “The Winds of Winter,” was the best episode of the season—the best, perhaps, in a few seasons. It was packed full of major developments—bye, bye, Baelor; hello, Dany’s fleet—but still found the time for some quieter moments, such as Tyrion’s touching acceptance of the role of Hand of the Queen. I was out of town last week and thus unable to take my usual seat at our Game of Thrones roundtable. But I did have some closing thoughts about what the episode—and season six in general—told us about how the show has evolved.
Last season, viewers got a limited taste—principally in the storylines in the North—of how the show would be different once showrunners Benioff and Weiss ran out of material from George R.R. Martin’s novels and had to set out on their own. But it was this season in which that exception truly became the norm. Though Martin long ago supplied Benioff and Weiss with a general narrative blueprint of the major arcs of the story, they can no longer rely on the books scene by scene. Game of Thrones is truly their show now. And thanks to changes in pacing, character development, and plot streamlining, it’s also a markedly different show from the one we watched in seasons one through four—for the worse and, to some degree, for the better.
Readers share their own experiences and discuss the topic more generally.
Prompted by Emma Green’s note on the Supreme Court case Whole Women’s Health v. Hellerstedt, for which a group of lawyers filed a document openly describing their abortions, readers share their own stories in an ongoing collection edited by Chris Bodenner.
Their degrees may help them secure entry-level jobs, but to advance in their careers, they’ll need much more than technical skills.
American undergraduates are flocking to business programs, and finding plenty of entry-level opportunities. But when businesses go hunting for CEOs or managers, “they will say, a couple of decades out, that I’m looking for a liberal arts grad,” said Judy Samuelson, executive director of the Aspen Institute’s Business and Society Program.
That presents a growing challenge to colleges and universities. Students are clamoring for degrees that will help them secure jobs in a shifting economy, but to succeed in the long term, they’ll require an education that allows them to grow, adapt, and contribute as citizens—and to build successful careers. And it’s why many schools are shaking up their curricula to ensure that undergraduate business majors receive something they may not even know they need—a rigorous liberal-arts education.
The Supreme Court declined to hear a major religious-freedom case on Tuesday, showing how much things have changed since Hobby Lobby.
Two years ago, the U.S. Supreme Court handed down a controversial 5-4 ruling about birth control and religion, Burwell v. Hobby Lobby Stores, Inc. Because of the ruling, private companies owned by religious people, including the craft-supply chain Hobby Lobby, can now refuse to cover certain kinds of birth control in their employee insurance plans, a requirement that was put in place by the 2010 Affordable Care Act. Supporters of the ruling claimed it as a triumph for religious freedom and an important precedent for cases about conscience-based objections to contraception.
Two years later, a pharmacy chain in Washington state, Stormans Inc., which operates a store in Olympia called Ralph’s Thriftway, has been denied a hearing before the Supreme Court. The pharmacy’s owners, along with two other pharmacists who are also plaintiffs in the case, Stormans, Inc. v. Wiesman, refused to stock emergency contraception, including Plan B and ella, for religious reasons—they believe the pills are effectively abortifacients. Long-standing state regulations require Washington pharmacies to stock a “representative assortment of drugs in order to meet the pharmaceutical needs of ... patients.” The requirements were updated in 2007, specifying that pharmacies must deliver all FDA-approved drugs to customers; they can’t refer people to get medication at a different location for any kind of religious or moral reasons.
The impenetrable Supreme Court justice’s leftward shift and his latest blockbuster of a term.
Some years ago, Dahlia Lithwick and I christened Justice Anthony Kennedy “the Sphinx of Sacramento.” Throughout his nearly 30 years on the Supreme Court, Kennedy’s mind has often seemed like a distant and mysterious country, with its own language and folkways beyond the ken of normal Americans.
Seldom has it seemed more puzzling than at the end of the Court’s 2015 to 2016 term. Kennedy’s votes in two crucial cases—one dealing with affirmative action and the other with abortion—procured important, and surprisingly sweeping, liberal victories on high-profile issues that conservatives care desperately about.
What is the Sphinx up to?
I often violently disagree with Kennedy’s legal judgment, but I cannot help but admire his personal qualities. In public, and from what I can tell in private, he is a man of deep kindness, courtesy, and benevolence, embodying the sort of small-town civic virtue one would expect from a man who left the snake pit of a big San Francisco firm to go into solo practice in Sacramento, California. His opinions seldom display the petty meanness that sometimes disfigures his colleagues’ work.
A new study from Cleveland looks at the correlations between living conditions and kindergarten readiness.
Much has been written about how a child’s environment can hurt or help their development in the first crucial years of life. Researchers have established that poor children who grow up in poor neighborhoods are less likely to succeed than poor children who grow up in wealthier neighborhoods, and last month, I wrote about how a person’s chance of success plays out on the level of a city block.
Zooming in even farther, in a recent study from Case Western Reserve University, in Cleveland, social scientists wanted to see if a home’s physical condition could be linked to a child’s academic performance. They also wanted to see if dilapidated housing correlated with a higher risk of child abuse, residential instability and lead poisoning, which are also known to hurt academic outcomes in the first years of school.
The Freddie Gray trials illustrate the inability of criminal prosecutions to halt police brutality.
When Baltimore police officer Caesar Goodson Jr., was acquitted Thursday of all charges related to the death of Freddie Gray, the one emotion absent from the courtroom, social media, and the crowds of protesters in the city was surprise. The cases of all six officers alleged to be involved in Gray’s April 2015 death have been tossed about in a sea of strange legal wrangling and reshuffling, but without much real suspense. The trial of Officer Edward Nero ended in a judge’s acquittal, and that of Officer William Porter in a hung jury. All six officers charged in the case remain on administrative, drawing full salaries, pending the outcome of an internal investigation. But it’s likely that these officers will share the fate of most officers accused of killing black people in the line of duty: a return to police work.
Tokophobia—a pathological dread of giving birth—might be causing some women to avoid pregnancy.
In 2007, Helen Mirren shared what made her decide never to have children. In an interview with an Australian journalist, the award-winning English actress admitted it was an explicit video of childbirth, shown to her in her early teens when she attended a convent school. Thirty seconds into what the film deemed “the miracle of childbirth,” two 13-year-old boys fainted and had to be carried out of the classroom. That short break with the lights on—during which all of the children desperately avoided eye contact—gave Mirren the chance to realize she couldn’t watch the rest of the film.
"I swear it traumatized me to this day,” she said. “I haven't had children and now I can't look at anything to do with childbirth. It absolutely disgusts me."
Whether Trump later claims to be born again or passes over the question is irrelevant. Dobson’s statement of hearsay says nothing about Trump’s faith, but it reveals a lot about how some evangelicals are trying to steel themselves to vote for Trump in the fall.