The only thing we have to fear is fear of the trillion-dollar coin itself.
It is the single most important comment in the history of Internet comments. Probably.
Back in the summer of 2011, as House Republicans threatened to force us to default on our obligations, a commenter on Cullen Roche's blog, Pragmatic Capitalism, suggested an inventive way around the debt ceiling: a trillion-dollar coin.
Ah, the debt ceiling. It's the ludicrous credit limit Congress has given itself, which could force us into default. Here's why it makes no sense. Imagine you were a high-earner living beyond your means, and your credit card company came to you offering to pay you to expand your line of credit -- but you said no! You've made a resolution not to increase your total debt anymore, no matter how attractive the offer. That's a fine resolution, but, remember, you're still living beyond your means. Uh-oh. You still have all your old bills to pay, but now you don't have the money to pay them all. Pretty soon, your credit card notices you're not paying all your bills, and jack up your interest rate. This is the worst personal-finance plan ever, and it's what House Republicans are saying they'll do to the economy by holding the debt limit hostage to their demand for deep spending cuts.
Enter the trillion-dollar coin. It sounds nuts. But there's a loophole that actually lets the Treasury create coins in whatever value it wants, even $1 trillion. It's all straightforward enough. The Treasury would create one of these coins, deposit it at the Federal Reserve, and use the new money in its account to pay our bills if the debt ceiling isn't increased. This has gone from being just another wacky idea in the world of internet comments to something that's getting taken seriously due, in large part, to the efforts of Joe Weisenthal of Business Insider and Josh Barro of Bloomberg View to promote it. (Which you can follow on Twitter at #MintTheCoin). Their logic is that as silly as the trillion-dollar coin sounds, the debt ceiling is far sillier -- and much more destructive.
As this terrifying report from the Bipartisan Policy Center shows, the consequences of going over the debt ceiling are unthinkable and unpredictable. At best, it will mean immediate 40 percent austerity; at worst, it will mean an outright default on our debt. Both are bad enough that a legal gimmick like the trillion dollar coin sounds sane in comparison, if it comes to that. At least that's what Representative Jerry Nadler, Paul Krugman, and, as of pixel time, over 6,000 other patriotic Americans think.
But maybe you're not convinced yet. Alright, here is EVERYTHING you need to know about the trillion-dollar coin, and why it might just be the crazy solution Washington deserves and needs.
What's this nonsense I've been hearing about a trillion-dollar coin? It's got to be some kind of elaborate --
Stop. It's no joke. At least no more than voluntarily defaulting on our obligations by refusing to lift the debt ceiling would be. It sounds like something out of the Simpsons, but thanks to a crazy technicality the Treasury really can create a trillion-dollar coin, which would let us keep paying our bills if the debt ceiling isn't raised. It's an absurd solution to an absurd problem, but a solution nonetheless. As they say, when in Washington....
No, I'm pretty sure this is from the Simpsons.
Almost. That was a $1 trillion bill, which Fidel Castro tricked out of Monty Burns, but this is real life, so it has to be a $1 trillion coin. A platinum coin, to be exact.
I'm almost afraid to ask, but why does it need to be a coin? And why platinum?
We don't make the loopholes. We just find them. The Treasury can't print money on its own, because the money supply is supposed to be the strict purview of the Federal Reserve ... but that might not be quite so strict after all, thanks to a coin-sized exception. Congress passed a law in 1997, later amended in 2000, that gives the Secretary of the Treasury the authority to mint platinum coins, and only platinum coins, in whatever denomination and quantity he or she wants. That could be $100, or $1,000, or ... $1 trillion.
Did Congress decide life wasn't imitating Bond films enough? What were they possibly thinking?
The idea was Treasury would only use this authority for collectible coins, while making a little money for the government in the process. But the law is vague. It only says the Treasury can mint platinum coins in any denomination it wants. So, to infinity and beyond!
Okay. So the Treasury can mint a trillion-dollar coin because of a law that lets it mint commemorative coins in whatever denomination it chooses, right? Doesn't this violate the spirit of the law?
Maybe. But remember, part of the point of creating these commemorative coins was to increase government revenue. As former Congressman and author of the original bill Mike Castle told Dylan Matthews of the Washington Post, the intent was to use the government's seigniorage power to very modestly reduce the deficit. Seigniorage is the delightfully literal concept of making money by making money. It's the difference between the cost of creating currency, and the value you assign to that currency -- in other words, the "profit" governments get from minting money. The trillion-dollar coin is seigniorage just like commemorative coins are seigniorage -- well, except that the trillion-dollar coin is a whole, whole lot more of it. Even if you don't find this terribly convincing, it doesn't really matter. The plain text of the law, not its intent, is what matters. And that means the trillion-dollar coin is almost certainly legal.
"Almost certainly legal" is good enough for me, but what if it isn't for everybody else? Would it survive a court challenge?
I just want to say one word to you. Just one word. Standing. It's far from clear anybody would have the legal standing to challenge the trillion-dollar coin in court. That would at least require a joint resolution of Congress, which isn't happening, or an investor who can show that not defaulting on our obligations caused them injury. Even if such an investor exists, say somebody who took credit default swaps (CDS) out on Treasury bonds, they'd be going up against a good bit of precedent. Call it FDR's revenge. When he took office in 1933, FDR faced the singular economic challenge of reversing the massive deflation of the previous four years. Falling wages and prices had increased real debt burdens, and set off a wave of mass bankruptcy. FDR turned this around when he devalued the dollar by taking us off the gold standard, but one problem remained: the gold clauses. These clauses gave creditors the option of getting back in either dollars or gold, with the latter being particularly appealing after its price soared almost 60 percent. But increasing inflation doesn't help debtors if their debts increase in equal measure, so Congress passed a joint resolution that voided all gold clauses in all contracts.
Bondholders were understandably upset about having to get paid back in cheaper dollars, sued, and lost. In a series of cases, the Supreme Court ruled that Congress could indeed nullify the gold clauses in private contracts under its power to regulate money, and that Treasury bondholders could not seek redress. As far as precedents go, this suggests the trillion dollar coin should be legal even if it changes the value of private contracts, like CDS, under the power to regulate money. And that's assuming CDS holders even have standing. They might not. As UCLA law professor Jonathan Zasloff explained to me, investors betting on a U.S. default are betting on something that's unconstitutional under the 14th amendment, and you probably can't base a contract off something that's illegal.
Okay, so this might be legal, but --
If you're still not convinced, just ask Representative Greg Walden, a Republican from Oregon, who's so convinced it's legal that he introduced a bill to close the platinum coin loophole.
FINE. It's legal. But there's still one thing I don't understand. Would we need to come up with $1 trillion worth of platinum to mint our $1 trillion platinum coin?
Repeat after me: seigniorage, seigniorage, seigniorage. Oh, and seigniorage. The entire point of the trillion-dollar coin is it gives us money to pay our bills if the debt ceiling isn't raised. But it won't give us any money if we spend an equal amount creating it. Basically, we want to take the smallest amount of platinum we can find and scribble "$1 trillion" on it. If you think this sounds nutty, ask yourself whether your $100 bill is made from $100 worth of cotton.
So why not just mint 16 of these $1 trillion coins and retire the entire national debt, smart guy? Or, even better, create a single $16 trillion coin -- scratch that, make it $100 trillion!
Now that's just crazy talk. Let me be clear: Nobody wants to use platinum coins to eliminate the debt. As Paul Krugman points out, there's a limit to how much seigniorage a government can extract before hyperinflation sets in, and that's certainly far less than $1 trillion, let alone $16 trillion. The trillion-dollar coin is just a technical fix to the technical problem of the debt ceiling. Remember, not lifting the debt ceiling doesn't prevent borrowing for new spending. It prevents borrowing for spending Congress has already appropriated. The Treasury can get around this by minting the trillion dollar coin, depositing it at the Fed, and paying the bills we've previously promised to pay -- and nothing more. It's about not defaulting on our debts, rather than paying them down.
Can we cut this short? I need to run out and buy some canned food and gold bars to prep for the coming hyperinflation. A trillion dollar coin is only two orders of magnitude away from us matching Zimbabwe for monetary ignominy.
Take a deep breath before you do something rash, like buying overpriced gold coins from Glenn Beck's buddies. As Joe Weisenthal of Business Insider points out, the biggest fallacy about the trillion-dollar coin is that it will be massively inflationary. It won't be. If the government quickly spent $1 trillion, that might be inflationary. But the coin wouldn't pay for new spending. It would pay for old spending -- spending already authorized by Congress that we can't pay for because of a ridiculous self-imposed limit on government borrowing, the debt ceiling. The total amount of spending in the economy would stay the same.
Now, inflation might go up in the long-term if the Fed doesn't intervene. That's because the composition of spending will have changed -- more currency, less borrowing -- even though the amount has not. If the monetary base stays permanently larger, inflation should eventually increase -- which is why the Fed will intervene. It has its inflation target, and it cares very much about hitting it. The Fed can do this if it "sterilizes" the trillion-dollar coin by selling bond in an equal amount, vacuuming up just as much money as the trillion dollar coin injects. Inflation, whipped.
Let me see if I've got this right. The Treasury mints money and pays for stuff with it, and the Fed sells bonds to offset this new money? This sounds kind of like ...
Monetary policy! It's just a particularly convoluted way of doing sterilized quantitative easing (QE). Okay, let's translate this into English. QE is plenty misunderstood, but it's actually simple enough. It's about printing money and buying stuff. More specifically, the Fed prints money and uses it to buy bonds from banks, which increases the reserves banks hold. In sterilized QE, the Fed uses operations like reverse repos -- don't worry, it's not important -- to prevent these new bank reserves from getting lent out. Putting it all together, the Fed 1) prints money, 2) buys stuff, and 3) sucks out as much money as it prints. This should sound familiar. It's exactly how the trillion-dollar coin would work, with the Treasury just replacing the Fed in the first two steps. To simplify a bit, the Treasury would 1) mint the trillion dollar coin, 2) use it to pay for already approved obligations, and 3) have the Fed would suck out as much money as the Treasury mints. It's sterilized QE through the platinum looking-glass.
It seems like a really bad idea to let the executive usurp control of monetary policy from the Fed. Isn't this a frightful precedent?
Yes and no. The consequences could be terrible if trillion-dollar coins become a regular part of policymaking, but monetary-policy-by-executive isn't exactly unprecedented. As former Treasury official and Western Kentucky professor David Beckworth points out, FDR grabbed the reins of monetary policy when he took the U.S. off the gold standard in 1933 and announced he wanted prices to return to their pre-Depression level. Obama could theoretically use platinum coins to do the same, perhaps targeting nominal GDP instead. But the danger, as Ryan Avent of The Economist points out, is if this extraordinary measure became ordinary, or if markets merely feared it might. Treasury bonds might lose some of their safe haven luster and send interest rates up if investors began to anticipate a new normal of higher inflation due to period coin seigniorage.
Hmmm. I'm feeling generous, so I'll concede two points. First, the trillion dollar coin is legal, and second, the economics of it make sense. But that doesn't mean it wouldn't be a political trainwreck.
Indeed. Cardiff Garcia of FT Alphaville makes the rather persuasive case that Democrats shouldn't use the trillion dollar coin as a negotiating tactic to increase their leverage in the debt ceiling talks, since House Republicans would welcome Obama embracing such a ludicrous-sounding ploy -- making a debt ceiling breach more likely. But it does make sense as a form of insurance against the economic carnage a protracted debt ceiling breach would entail.
Okay, serious question time. What if somebody stole the trillion dollar coin?
Good luck getting change for it. Or finding a bank that will accept it as a deposit. It would only turn out to be worth the platinum it was minted on -- which, hopefully, should not be very much.
Even more serious question time. Who should we put on the trillion dollar coin?
There are lots of good options here. Paul Krugman has suggested John Boehner, which has a certain poetic justice to it, but Ron Paul or a banana are good options too.
Last question. You don't seriously think this is a good idea, do you? If ever there was something that tells the world we're a banana republic, it's --
Choosing to default on our obligations. There is nothing crazier than that. If it it's a choice between defaulting on our obligations, and minting a trillion-dollar coin, I say mint the coin. In an ideal world, Obama would end the platinum coin loophole in return for the House GOP forever ending the debt ceiling, as Josh Barro proposed, but I'll settle for anything that involves us paying our bills as we promised.
The only thing we have to fear is fear of the trillion-dollar coin itself.
A child psychologist argues punishment is a waste of time when trying to eliminate problem behavior. Try this instead.
Say you have a problem child. If it’s a toddler, maybe he smacks his siblings. Or she refuses to put on her shoes as the clock ticks down to your morning meeting at work. If it’s a teenager, maybe he peppers you with obscenities during your all-too-frequent arguments. The answer is to punish them, right?
Not so, says Alan Kazdin, director of the Yale Parenting Center. Punishment might make you feel better, but it won’t change the kid’s behavior. Instead, he advocates for a radical technique in which parents positively reinforce the behavior they do want to see until the negative behavior eventually goes away.
As I was reporting my recent series about child abuse, I came to realize that parents fall roughly into three categories. There’s a small number who seem intuitively to do everything perfectly: Moms and dads with chore charts that actually work and snack-sized bags of organic baby carrots at the ready. There’s an even smaller number who are horrifically abusive to their kids. But the biggest chunk by far are parents in the middle. They’re far from abusive, but they aren’t super-parents, either. They’re busy and stressed, so they’re too lenient one day and too harsh the next. They have outdated or no knowledge of child psychology, and they’re scrambling to figure it all out.
In 12 of 16 past cases in which a rising power has confronted a ruling power, the result has been bloodshed.
When Barack Obama meets this week with Xi Jinping during the Chinese president’s first state visit to America, one item probably won’t be on their agenda: the possibility that the United States and China could find themselves at war in the next decade. In policy circles, this appears as unlikely as it would be unwise.
And yet 100 years on, World War I offers a sobering reminder of man’s capacity for folly. When we say that war is “inconceivable,” is this a statement about what is possible in the world—or only about what our limited minds can conceive? In 1914, few could imagine slaughter on a scale that demanded a new category: world war. When war ended four years later, Europe lay in ruins: the kaiser gone, the Austro-Hungarian Empire dissolved, the Russian tsar overthrown by the Bolsheviks, France bled for a generation, and England shorn of its youth and treasure. A millennium in which Europe had been the political center of the world came to a crashing halt.
Neuroscientist James Fallon discovered through his work that he has the brain of a psychopath, and subsequently learned a lot about the role of genes in personality and how his brain affects his life.
In 2005, James Fallon's life started to resemble the plot of a well-honed joke or big-screen thriller: A neuroscientist is working in his laboratory one day when he thinks he has stumbled upon a big mistake. He is researching Alzheimer's and using his healthy family members' brain scans as a control, while simultaneously reviewing the fMRIs of murderous psychopaths for a side project. It appears, though, that one of the killers' scans has been shuffled into the wrong batch.
The scans are anonymously labeled, so the researcher has a technician break the code to identify the individual in his family, and place his or her scan in its proper place. When he sees the results, however, Fallon immediately orders the technician to double check the code. But no mistake has been made: The brain scan that mirrors those of the psychopaths is his own.
A professor of cognitive science argues that the world is nothing like the one we experience through our senses.
As we go about our daily lives, we tend to assume that our perceptions—sights, sounds, textures, tastes—are an accurate portrayal of the real world. Sure, when we stop and think about it—or when we find ourselves fooled by a perceptual illusion—we realize with a jolt that what we perceive is never the world directly, but rather our brain’s best guess at what that world is like, a kind of internal simulation of an external reality. Still, we bank on the fact that our simulation is a reasonably decent one. If it wasn’t, wouldn’t evolution have weeded us out by now? The true reality might be forever beyond our reach, but surely our senses give us at least an inkling of what it’s really like.
Neither the Islamic State nor al-Qaeda would be where they are today without Abu Abdullah al-Muhajir, who was recently killed in an American airstrike.
Last year, the Islamic State released a training video, one of a multipart series shot in Iraq. With its scenes of foot drills, target practice, and karate chops, it would have been entirely unremarkable were it not for a short classroom scene, in which an instructor walks viewers through the ideological curriculum forced upon new recruits to the ISIS cause. As he’s shown reeling off a list of some key topics in jihadist jurisprudence, one can glimpse a thick volume resting atop each of the 20 or so schoolroom desks—a manuscript that, while few would recognize it outside of jihadist circles, is instrumental to ISIS as a theological playbook that is used to justify the group’s most abhorrent acts.
President-elect Donald Trump has committed a sharp breach of protocol—one that underscores just how weird some important protocols are.
Updated on December 2 at 7:49 p.m.
It’s hardly remembered now, having been overshadowed a few months later on September 11, but the George W. Bush administration’s first foreign-policy crisis came in the South China Sea. On April 1, 2001, a U.S. Navy surveillance plane collided with a Chinese jet near Hainan Island. The pilot of the Chinese jet was killed, and the American plane was forced to land and its crew was held hostage for 11 days, until a diplomatic agreement was worked out. Sino-American relations remained tense for some time.
Unlike Bush, Donald Trump didn’t need to wait to be inaugurated to set off a crisis in the relationship. He managed that on Friday, with a phone call with the president of Taiwan, Tsai Ing-wen. It’s a sharp breach with protocol, but it’s also just the sort that underscores how weird and incomprehensible some important protocols are.
A few weeks ago, I was trying to call Cuba. I got an error message—which, okay, international telephone codes are long and my fingers are clumsy—but the phone oddly started dialing again before I could hang up. A voice answered. It had a British accent and it was reading: “...the moon was shining brightly. The Martians had taken away the excavating-machine…”
Apparently, I had somehow called into an audiobook of The War of the Worlds. Suspicious of my clumsy fingers, I double-checked the number. It was correct (weird), but I tried the number again, figuring that at worst, I’d learn what happened after the Martians took away the excavating machine. This time, I got the initial error message and the call disconnected. No Martians.
Life in Ohio's proud but economically abandoned small towns
Just over a decade ago, Matt Eich started photographing rural Ohio. Largely inhabited by what is now known as the “Forgotten Class” of white, blue-collar workers, Eich found himself drawn to the proud but economically abandoned small towns of Appalachia. Thanks to grants from the Economic Hardship Reporting Project and Getty Images, Eich was able to capture the family life, drug abuse, poverty, and listlessness of these communities. “Long before Trump was a player on the political scene, long before he was a Republican, these people existed and these problems existed,” Eich said. His new book, Carry Me Ohio, published by Sturm and Drang, is a collection of these images and the first of four books he plans to publish as part of The Invisible Yoke, a photographic meditation on the American condition. Even with a deep knowledge of the region, Eich was unprepared for the fury and energy that surrounded the election this year. “The anger is overpowering,” he said. “I knew what was going on, and I’m still surprised. I should have listened to the pictures.”
A century ago, millions of Americans banded together in defense of white, Christian America and traditional morality—and most of their compatriots turned a blind eye to the Ku Klux Klan.
On August 8, 1925, more than 50,000 members of the Ku Klux Klan paraded through Washington, D.C. Some walked in lines as wide as 20 abreast, while others created formations of the letter K or a Christian cross. A few rode on horseback. Many held American flags. Men and women alike, the marchers carried banners emblazoned with the names of their home states or local chapters, and their procession lasted for more than three hours down a Pennsylvania Avenue lined with spectators. National leaders of the organization were resplendent in colorful satin robes and the rank and file wore white, their regalia adorned with a circular red patch containing a cross with a drop of blood at its center.
Nearly all of the marchers wore pointed hoods, but their faces were clearly visible. In part, that was because officials would sanction the parade only if participants agreed to walk unmasked. But a mask was not really necessary, as most members of the Klan saw little reason to hide their faces. After all, there were millions of them in the United States.
A single dose of magic mushrooms can make people with severe anxiety and depression better for months, according to a landmark pair of new studies.
The doom hung like an anvil over her head. In 2012, a few years after Carol Vincent was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin lymphoma, she was waiting to see whether her cancer would progress enough to require chemotherapy or radiation. The disease had already done a number on her, inflating lymph nodes on her chin, collar bones, and groin. She battled her symptoms while running her own marketing business. To top it all off, she was going through menopause.
“Life is just pointless stress, and then you die,” she thought. “All I’m doing is sitting here waiting for all this shit to happen.”
When one day at an intersection she mulled whether it would be so bad to get hit by a car, she realized her mental health was almost as depleted as her physical state.