Government borrowing doesn't always crowd out private borrowing
Four years after the end of the presidency that must not be named, Republicans are no closer to figuring out what went wrong or what comes next.
Sure, the GOP has decided Bush spent too much, but there's been little other reckoning (outside of wonks like David Frum, Reihan Salam, and Ross Douthat). After all, it's hard to see what fiscal profligacy had to do with stagnant median incomes, rising healthcare and college costs, and a fragile financial system -- and harder still to see what remedies the Republicans have to offer. When it comes to policy, the GOP is stuck in 1980: lower taxes, less regulation, and more drilling for oil are always and everywhere the answer, no matter the question. (No, really).
Even Obama's reelection hasn't been enough to wake the Republicans from their Reagan von Winkle slumber. The GOP has chosen re-branding over rethinking. In other words, they think they have a messenger, not a message, problem -- and that's where Marco Rubio comes in. As Jonathan Chait of New York explains, Rubio offers the party an appealing, young salesman for its same, old policies, immigration aside. It was no accident his response to the State of the Union was so devoid of anything resembling new thinking. It was the point. Indeed, Rubio just rounded up the usual talking points, saying, among other things, that the government was a major cause of the housing bubble (it wasn't), and that Washington needs a balanced budget amendment (it very much does not). These are certainly cringe-worthy mistakes, but Rubio's biggest one is even more fundamental. He doesn't think the government can create jobs, except when it does.
Every dollar our government borrows is money that isn't being invested to create jobs. And the uncertainty created by the debt is one reason why many businesses aren't hiring.
Rubio has fallen victim to one of the classic economic blunders. It's called Say's Law, and it's not, in fact, a law. It's more like a guideline. The idea is that supply creates its own demand, which is true enough during booms, but not so during busts. The underlying logic here -- producing goods gives you the income to buy other goods -- makes sense, but only as long as you don't include money. Then everything falls apart. We'll return to why money is the root of all depressions in a second, but first, let's think about what it would mean if Say's Law were true. It would mean a world where demand can never lag supply; where unemployment is either voluntary or transient (when people switch jobs); and where government spending can never help the economy. After all, public borrowing has to come from somewhere, and a dollar the government borrows is a dollar the private sector doesn't. In other words, government borrowing "crowds out" private borrowing, pushing up interest rates as it competes for funds.
But this is terribly wrong. In the real world, people are out of work because they can't find work, not because they don't want it; the Great Recession has not been a Great Vacation. Supply doesn't always create its own demand, because demand for money might increase. In other words, people might hoard money. Now, "hoard" probably brings to mind people frantically stuffing money into mattresses, but it's a bit different than that today. It means households don't want to spend, and businesses don't want to invest, and banks don't want to lend. There's an excess of desired savings over desired investment -- or, as it's more commonly called, a recession. The Fed can make hoarding less appealing by cutting interest rates to inject money into the economy, but it can't do so now, at least not easily. Interest rates are already at zero, and unconventional money-printing hasn't been quite as effective. In short, the Fed hasn't been able to get us to stop hoarding right now.
That leaves two options: depression or deficits. In other words, either nobody borrows the unborrowed money, or the government does. If nobody does, the economy will contract by as much as isn't borrowed; if the government does, the economy will (at least) stabilize. As Matthew Yglesias of Slate points out, it's easy enough to tell the government is borrowing money that otherwise wouldn't be today, since interest rates have fallen despite big deficits. There has been no crowding out.
But it turns out we are actually all Keynesians now, even Marco Rubio. At least when it comes to military spending. (Though he's hardly alone with this cognitive dissonance). Here's what he told HispanicBusiness.com last September about the upcoming sequester cuts set to hit the Pentagon:
Thousands of jobs in defense-related enterprises have been lost already, with many more projected to go if the sequester crisis is not averted. These defense cuts hurt innovation, medical research and thousands of small businesses who subcontract for defense-related work.
Rubio is actually a pretty ambitious Keynesian! Not only does he think the government can create jobs, but he also thinks those jobs create other jobs -- that is, there's a multiplier on government spending.
Forget credit hours—in a quest to cut costs, universities are simply asking students to prove their mastery of a subject.
MANCHESTER, Mich.—Had Daniella Kippnick followed in the footsteps of the hundreds of millions of students who have earned university degrees in the past millennium, she might be slumping in a lecture hall somewhere while a professor droned. But Kippnick has no course lectures. She has no courses to attend at all. No classroom, no college quad, no grades. Her university has no deadlines or tenure-track professors.
Instead, Kippnick makes her way through different subject matters on the way to a bachelor’s in accounting. When she feels she’s mastered a certain subject, she takes a test at home, where a proctor watches her from afar by monitoring her computer and watching her over a video feed. If she proves she’s competent—by getting the equivalent of a B—she passes and moves on to the next subject.
Even when a dentist kills an adored lion, and everyone is furious, there’s loftier righteousness to be had.
Now is the point in the story of Cecil the lion—amid non-stop news coverage and passionate social-media advocacy—when people get tired of hearing about Cecil the lion. Even if they hesitate to say it.
But Cecil fatigue is only going to get worse. On Friday morning, Zimbabwe’s environment minister, Oppah Muchinguri, called for the extradition of the man who killed him, the Minnesota dentist Walter Palmer. Muchinguri would like Palmer to be “held accountable for his illegal action”—paying a reported $50,000 to kill Cecil with an arrow after luring him away from protected land. And she’s far from alone in demanding accountability. This week, the Internet has served as a bastion of judgment and vigilante justice—just like usual, except that this was a perfect storm directed at a single person. It might be called an outrage singularity.
Bernie Sanders and Jeb Bush look abroad for inspiration, heralding the end of American exceptionalism.
This election cycle, two candidates have dared to touch a third rail in American politics.
Not Social Security reform. Not Medicare. Not ethanol subsidies. The shibboleth that politicians are suddenly willing to discuss is the idea that America might have something to learn from other countries.
The most notable example is Bernie Sanders, who renewed his praise for Western Europe in a recent interview with Ezra Klein. “Where is the UK? Where is France? Germany is the economic powerhouse in Europe,” Sanders said. “They provide health care to all of their people, they provide free college education to their kids.”
On ABC’s This Week in May, George Stephanopoulos asked Sanders about this sort of rhetoric. “I can hear the Republican attack ad right now: ‘He wants American to look more like Scandinavia,’” the host said. Sanders didn’t flinch:
A hawkish senator doesn't apply the lessons of Iraq
Earlier this week, Senator Lindsey Graham, a hawkish Republican from South Carolina, used a Senate Armed Services Committee hearing to stage a theatrical display of his disdain for the Obama administration’s nuclear deal with Iran.
The most telling part of his time in the spotlight came when he pressed Defense Secretary Ashton Carter to declare who would win if the United States and Iran fought a war:
Here’s a transcript of the relevant part:
Graham: Could we win a war with Iran? Who wins the war between us and Iran? Who wins? Do you have any doubt who wins?
Carter: No. The United States.
Graham: We. Win.
Little more than a decade ago, when Senator Graham urged the invasion of Iraq, he may well have asked a general, “Could we win a war against Saddam Hussein? Who wins?” The answer would’ve been the same: “The United States.” And the U.S. did rout Hussein’s army. It drove the dictator into a hole, and he was executed by the government that the United States installed. And yet, the fact that the Iraqi government of 2002 lost the Iraq War didn’t turn out to mean that the U.S. won it. It incurred trillions in costs; thousands of dead Americans; thousands more with missing limbs and post-traumatic stress disorder and years of deployments away from spouses and children; and in the end, a broken Iraq with large swaths of its territory controlled by ISIS, a force the Iraqis cannot seem to defeat. That’s what happened last time a Lindsey Graham-backed war was waged.
The IOC’s selection of Beijing as the host of its 2022 games is met with a lukewarm response.
When the International Olympic Committee selected Beijing on Friday as the host for the 2022 Winter Olympic Games, the Chinese capital became the first city to have hosted both the Summer and Winter games. This, most likely, isn’t coincidental: Beijing’s hosting of the Summer games in 2008 was generally considered a success, and Almaty, the Kazakh city whose bid placed second, lacks comparable experience.
A closer examination of Beijing’s 2022 bid, though, reveals the selection is far more peculiar than it seems at first glance. One reason: It barely snows in Beijing. China’s northern plain is extremely dry, and what precipitation that falls in the capital tends to occur during the summer. Beijing’s Olympic planners have assured the IOC this won’t be a problem—the country will simply use artificial snow to accommodate events, such as skiing, that require it.
Most of the big names in futurism are men. What does that mean for the direction we’re all headed?
In the future, everyone’s going to have a robot assistant. That’s the story, at least. And as part of that long-running narrative, Facebook just launched its virtual assistant. They’re calling it Moneypenny—the secretary from the James Bond Films. Which means the symbol of our march forward, once again, ends up being a nod back. In this case, Moneypenny is a send-up to an age when Bond’s womanizing was a symbol of manliness and many women were, no matter what they wanted to be doing, secretaries.
Why can’t people imagine a future without falling into the sexist past? Why does the road ahead keep leading us back to a place that looks like the Tomorrowland of the 1950s? Well, when it comes to Moneypenny, here’s a relevant datapoint: More than two thirds of Facebook employees are men. That’s a ratio reflected among another key group: futurists.
Netflix’s revival of the ensemble cult film does far more than play on nostalgia—it’s an absurd, densely plotted prequel that never forgets to be funny.
At some point, given time, word of mouth, and endless rewatching, a cult classic evolves into a universally beloved media property. Netflix, it seems, has become the arbiter of that transformation—first and most notably by reviving the adored-but-prematurely-canceled Arrested Development for a fourth season. Now the service is continuing this effort by turning the 2001 comedy Wet Hot American Summer, a critical and commercial bomb on its release, into an eight-episode prequel miniseries. Though it all but vanished without a trace on release, Wet Hot’s shaggy, surreal charm and its cast of future stars have helped it endure over the years, and despite its bizarre positioning, the Netflix edition hasn’t missed a beat, even 14 years later.
The Vermont senator’s revolutionary zeal has met its moment.
There’s no way this man could be president, right? Just look at him: rumpled and scowling, bald pate topped by an entropic nimbus of white hair. Just listen to him: ranting, in his gravelly Brooklyn accent, about socialism. Socialism!
And yet here we are: In the biggest surprise of the race for the Democratic presidential nomination, this thoroughly implausible man, Bernie Sanders, is a sensation.
He is drawing enormous crowds—11,000 in Phoenix, 8,000 in Dallas, 2,500 in Council Bluffs, Iowa—the largest turnout of any candidate from any party in the first-to-vote primary state. He has raised $15 million in mostly small donations, to Hillary Clinton’s $45 million—and unlike her, he did it without holding a single fundraiser. Shocking the political establishment, it is Sanders—not Martin O’Malley, the fresh-faced former two-term governor of Maryland; not Joe Biden, the sitting vice president—to whom discontented Democratic voters looking for an alternative to Clinton have turned.
The Wall Street Journal’s eyebrow-raising story of how the presidential candidate and her husband accepted cash from UBS without any regard for the appearance of impropriety that it created.
The Swiss bank UBS is one of the biggest, most powerful financial institutions in the world. As secretary of state, Hillary Clinton intervened to help it out with the IRS. And after that, the Swiss bank paid Bill Clinton $1.5 million for speaking gigs. TheWall Street Journal reported all that and more Thursday in an article that highlights huge conflicts of interest that the Clintons have created in the recent past.
The piece begins by detailing how Clinton helped the global bank.
“A few weeks after Hillary Clinton was sworn in as secretary of state in early 2009, she was summoned to Geneva by her Swiss counterpart to discuss an urgent matter. The Internal Revenue Service was suing UBS AG to get the identities of Americans with secret accounts,” the newspaper reports. “If the case proceeded, Switzerland’s largest bank would face an impossible choice: Violate Swiss secrecy laws by handing over the names, or refuse and face criminal charges in U.S. federal court. Within months, Mrs. Clinton announced a tentative legal settlement—an unusual intervention by the top U.S. diplomat. UBS ultimately turned over information on 4,450 accounts, a fraction of the 52,000 sought by the IRS.”
An alpenhorn performance in Switzerland, a portrait of Vladimir Putin made of spent ammunition from Ukraine, Prince Charles surprised by an eagle, wildfire in California, a sunset in Crimea, and much more.
An alpenhorn performance in Switzerland, a portrait of Vladimir Putin made of spent ammunition from Ukraine, fireworks in North Korea, Prince Charles surprised by an eagle, wildfire in California, protests in the Philippines and Turkey, a sunset in Crimea, and much more.