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Megan McArdle

Megan McArdle

Megan McArdle is a senior editor for The Atlantic who writes about business and economics. She has worked at three start-ups, a consulting firm, an investment bank, a disaster recovery firm at Ground Zero, and The Economist. She is currently on leave.
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Megan was born and raised on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, and yes, she does enjoy her lattes, as well as the occasional extra-dry skim-milk cappuccino. Her checkered work history includes three start-ups, four years as a technology project manager for a boutique consulting firm, a summer as an associate at an investment bank, and a year spent as sort of an executive copy girl for one of the disaster-recovery firms at Ground Zero � all before the age of 30.

While working at Ground Zero, Megan started Live From the WTC, a blog focused on economics, business, and cooking. She may or may not have been the first major economics blogger, depending on whether we are allowed to throw outlying variables such as Brad Delong out of the set. From there it was but a few steps down the slippery slope to freelance journalism. She has worked in various capacities for The Economist, where she wrote about economics and oversaw the founding of Free Exchange, the magazine's economics blog. She has also maintained her own blog, Asymmetrical Information, which moved to The Atlantic, along with its owner, in August 2007.

Megan holds a bachelor's degree in English literature from the University of Pennsylvania and an M.B.A. from the University of Chicago. After a lifetime as a New Yorker, she now resides in northwest Washington, D.C., where she is still trying to figure out what one does with an apartment larger than 400 square feet.

Was the Raid on Occupy Oakland Really Necessary?

Both the protesters and the police are at fault for the violence on Tuesday

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Police officers with less-lethal munitions reconnect during an "Occupy Wall Street" demonstration, in response to an early morning police raid which displaced Occupy Oakland's tent city / Reuters

I'm not clear on what happened in Oakland last night, except that it was bad. The police are saying that they had to deploy beanbags and maybe tear-gas because people started throwing bottles, plates, and rocks when they tried to clear out the encampment at Occupy Oakland. I don't find this entirely implausible.  

The protesters are saying that when their authority was challenged, the police reacted with overwhelming and inappropriate force, which I also don't find entirely implausible.  Since the police and the protesters seem, to date, to be the only two witnesses to this event, I can't really call this one.

Since I don't really know which side is at fault (both, maybe) I'll offer some unsolicited advice to all parties.

Story continues after the gallery
First, to the protesters: do not throw things, especially things that might, say, break and sever an artery of a vulnerable policeman.  No matter how towering the injustices you are protesting against, there is nothing that is going to undermine your cause faster than killing or severely wounding a cop, a lesson that the student radicals learned to their great dismay in the 1970s.  If you want to ensure that every Occupy protest gets broken up by overwhelming force, while the rest of America applauds the forces of law and order, just try really hurting a few law enforcement professionals.  If you want to alter anything other than your own health, you need broad public support, and no matter how screwed up you think America is, it's still bourgeois enough that you are not going to get it by rioting.  If you have elements among you who are looking for trouble, you'd better root them out before they destroy the whole movement.

And second, to the cops, and the city officials who tell the cops what to do: I understand that you say things turned violent after you started clearing out the park.  But why was it necessary to clear out the park?

Yes, I understand that there was smell and noise and that things were getting unsanitary.  But given the fact that this is a national movement, which implies some decently broad base of support, there should have been a presumption against going in.  And if you're going to, it seems like a very good idea to well-document the offenses against public decency.  If you can show evidence that piles of human feces and rotting food were accumulating everywhere, and vandalism in the neighborhood had shot up, then most people are going to be sympathetic to the notion that the protesters had to go. If what we mean by "unsanitary" is that there was some litter, well, maybe err on the side of discretion, rather than creating martyrs by teargassing folks in wheelchairs.

This doesn't seem like it was necessary.  And it seems like it may galvanize a whole other round of these things -- including in Oakland.  Is it really worth violence to keep people from sleeping in a park?

Why the Government is Not Going to Force Banks to Write Down Your Mortgage Principal

On Monday, I saw a lot of disappointment over the Obama administration's new housing plan, because it didn't do principal reduction.  Felix Salmon made one of the better cases, I think:

The best that Dudley can bring himself to say about HARP II is basically that it's a start. Most importantly, it doesn't do principal reductions -- if you're underwater when you get your HARP refinance, you'll be underwater afterwards, too. The FHFA itself, in its press release, helpfully points out that for someone with a loan worth 25% more than their house, they won't start building equity in their home for ten years if they refinance into a 30-year fixed-rate mortgage.

But the sad fact is that anything more substantive than this is likely to require Congressional approval, and therefore be a political non-starter between now and November 2012. The government's done almost nothing to address the housing mess, and will continue to do almost nothing for the foreseeable future. Which, as Dudley says, bodes very ill for the economy as a whole.
The drumbeat for principal reductions is understandable: underwater homeowners are more likely to default, and of course, the ones that don't are shoveling a whole lot of disposable income into closing their negative equity.  It's a policy that seems win-win at first glance, since foreclosures are very costly to the bank.

But of course as the Atlanta Fed has pointed out (and, cough, some bloggers), only a minority of underwater homeowners are going to default, and the banks have no reliable way of distinguishing those people from the underwater mortgagees who won't default.  That means it's not win-win, it's win-lose, because if the banks offer reductions to everyone who's underwater, most of the people who are underwater are probably going to take them.  They'd far rather offer "principal reductions" in the form of short sales, which have a cost to the homeowner as well as the bank.

Okay, so they won't do it voluntarily.  Maybe the social benefits are large enough that the government should force banks to offer those principal reductions: after all, there would not just be benefits from falling foreclosures, but from freeing up all that cash flow.  (Well, sort of.  You've also impaired bank capital and investment assets, which presumably means you spend less.)

That is, I take it, the argument that a lot of people like Felix are making.

I never thought it was going to happen, and after emailing with some lawyers, I'm now certain of it.  Here's why:

The government will have to pay nearly the full cost of any principal reduction it mandates.

Obviously, this holds for Fannie and Freddie, because the government owns them.  But it also holds for private banks.  According to the expert I heard from "Contract interests are property for purposes of the Takings Clause." So the government can mandate that banks write the mortgages down.  But eventually, a judge will order them to pay those banks back.  Yes, they will, even if those banks are full of bad, irresponsible people who gambled with money that wasn't theirs.

I take it this is in fact broadly true of interest rate reductions as well.

Last I heard, there was about three quarters of a trillion dollars worth of negative equity in American homes.  There is not anything close to $750 billion available to spend on writing  And even if there were, there's reasonable debate over whether that's how you'd spend the money.

That's why all of these programs are functionally voluntary for the banks: if they're not voluntary, the government is going to eat the full bill. And the government is out of money.

There are ways around this, of course--as the expert who emailed me said, "The devil is in the details".  You can offer some sort of quid-pro-quo and say that you returned fair value but a) this is expensive, and b) the banks will probably litigate and there's a chance that you'll lose, plus maybe even suffer a political black eye over your "unconstitutional" program.

You can also extract promises to write down these loans as part of a deal with the banks over things like robo-signing.  Problem: not all mortgage securities are actually owned by banks, and not all banks are implicated in robo-signing or similar.  

Plus, there are limits to what you can extract in a settlement--you cannot force banks to offer more than they will likely lose in a suit.  And when assessing how much that might be, it is helpful to keep in mind that even Rudy Giuliani and Eliot Spitzer lost most of the high-profile securities cases they took to trial. The banks certainly will, when you're claiming that they need to do this to save themselves from a trillion dollar verdict.  It would take a lot of record jury awards to get to $750 billion.

Then you have to consider that bank capital impairment.  If you hit the banks too hard, some of them will go under, and then the FDIC will have to pay off their depositors.  The FDIC is already a mite overstretched at the moment.

In other words, there simply is never going to be what I think a lot of pundits are envisioning: a broad based, mandatory program in which banks are forced to "do what's right for the country" and write down all that horrid underwater principal.  Legally it can't be done except at enormous cost to the government.

There is one thing that has been proposed that you could do: principal write-downs on mortgages in bankruptcy.  Adam Levitin wants a special "Chapter M" that would efficiently just strip mortgage debt.  He's a legal expert and I'm not, so I'll defer to him on the question of whether we can create a whole chapter of the bankruptcy code that only deals with one creditor, rather than fairly allocating the debtor's assets or income between all of them.

But even if we do this, it's at best a very limited solution.  Bankruptcy drops an atom bomb on your credit (and makes your personal finances public record).  It requires hiring a lawyer.  The number of people who would avail themselves of this is going to be far lower than the number of people with underwater mortgages.

So I'll go back to what I said above: there is not going to be broad-based mortgage equity relief, because your neighbors do not want to pay $750 billion to relieve you of that burden.  HARP isn't a panacea, but it will actually do some limited good, which is probably about all we can expect.

Media Alert

I'll be on C-Span at 9:15 tomorrow talking about congressional insider trading.

Occupy Wall Street vs. the Drum Circle

Can it really be true that the drum circle is about to be the end of Occupy Wall Street?  File this note sent to an N+! editor by a "trusted friend and activist" under "too weird not to be true because no one would have thought up this plot twist":

Friends, mediation with the drummers has been called off. It has gone on for more than 2 weeks and it has reached a dead end. The drummers formed a working group called Pulse and agreed to 2 hrs/day at times during the mediation, and more recently that changed to 4 hrs/day. It's my feeling that we may have a fighting chance with the community board if we could indeed limit drumming and loud instrumentation to 12-2 PM and 4-6 PM, however that isn't what's happening.

Last night the drumming was near continuous until 10:30 PM at night. Today it began again at 11 AM. The drummers are fighting among themselves, there is no cohesive group. There is one assemblage called Pulse that organized most of the

drummers into a group and went to GA for formal recognition and with a proposal. Unfortunately there is one individual who is NOT a drummer but who claims to speak for the drummers who has been a deeply disruptive force, attacking the drumming rep during the GA and derailing his proposal, and disrupting the community board meeting, as well as the OWS community relations meeting. She has also created strife and divisions within the POC caucus, calling many members who are not 'on her side' "Uncle Tom", "the 1%", "Barbie" "not Palestinian enough" "Wall Street politicians" "not black enough" "sell-outs", etc. People have been documenting her disruptions, and her campaign of misinformation, and instigations. She also has a documented history online of defamatory, divisive and disruptive behavior within the LGBT (esp. transgender) communities. Her disruptions have made it hard to have constructive conversations and productive resolutions to conflicts in a variety of forums in the past several days.

At this point we have lost the support of allies in the Community Board and the state senator and city electeds who have been fighting the city to stave off our eviction, get us toilets, etc. On Tuesday there is a Community Board vote, which will be packed with media cameras and community members with real grievances. We have sadly demonstrated to them that we are unable to collectively 1) keep our space and surrounding areas clean and sanitary, 2) keep the park safe, 3) deal with internal conflict and enforce the Good Neighbor Policy that was passed by the General Assembly.
A later update indicates that they seem to have come to some agreement with the drummers, but as I understand it, it is not clear that this will actually be enough, for two reasons:

1.  It's not clear that they can make rogue drummers stop
2.  And even four hours of daily drumming makes the local community considerably more hostile.

I'm sorry, I can't help but chortle--undone by a rogue drum circle!  

And no, before you fire up the angry comments, this is not because I wish Occupy Wall Street ill.  I know you all expect me to hate on them, but really, I can't.  Oh, sure, they're naive and seem to have a rather primitive grasp of economics, but these are hardly the worst things one can say about someone.  Also, I love drum circles. And I think it's a good thing that the left has a basically orderly and well-meaning channel for communal expression--while I do sympathize with the people who have to live right next to the smell and the chanting, the lasting harms seem pretty minimal, particularly if you already live in a kind of noisy, smelly city.  

Besides, the way they've organized the whole thing is a rather interesting experiment in spontaneous order.

But c'mon, it's kind of funny that the biggest threat is a damn drum circle.  A drum circle!  It's like hearing that Ghaddafi was brought down by a mime rebellion.

However, underneath the undeniably funny facts of the thing is a serious point, which is that as anyone who was ever in a band can tell you, drummers are crazy.

No, I jest!  What I think this illustrates quite clearly are the limits, as well as the possibilities, of spontaneous voluntary order.  Self-organization has, from all reports, achieved some really impressive things at Occupy Wall Street, and maybe outside of it (I haven't been following those protests as closely).  They've kept things moderately clean, delivered food and sleeping bags, and even, well, negotiated a temporary peace accord with the drum circle.

But as many of us discovered back in college, ultimately, you cannot run any sustained movements along the lines of perfectly inclusive democracy.  It's not just that the people who won't cooperate tend to ruin everything for everyone else, though this is a huge problem--if you make it a policy not to exclude or punish anyone for any reason, you're going to attract a small-but-catastrophic number of sociopaths who are immune to your only tool of social control, which is shaming.

But there's another problem, one that anecdotally seems to be growing at Occupy Wall Street: without authority, you spend virtually all your waking hours negotiating trivia.  This was a small problem at most left-wing groups I've participated in . . . yes, FINE, we'll put the recycled paper logo on the upper left hand corner in BRIGHT GREEN so that everyone knows we support the environment as well as LGBT rights, and yes, it can be in its own box and in fact you can set it the damn thing off with neon lights if that will make you STOP MAKING US TALK ABOUT IT.

. . . er, sorry about that.  The flashbacks can be pretty fierce.

Even worse is that if you stick around long enough, one day in mid-argument you will suddenly realize that you are the jerk making everyone spend an hour and a half debating whether the word "justice" or "fairness" better captures the problem with Apartheid.

But this is just a petty annoyance in most groups (I assume right-wing groups have this problem too), because most groups set up some lines of authority.  No, I don't necessarily mean that there's a guy in charge telling everyone what to do: authority can be officers, but it can also be the group's rules, social norms, a national movement, or a charter that defines what the group is for and how you become a member.  Often, maybe always, groups have more than one of these. The important thing is that everyone (basically) agrees on what the authority is, and importantly, that you eventually kick out the people who will not defer to the authority that the group has agreed on.

However, if there's no authority, you basically have to get consensus on every. single. little. thing.  This takes time.  That time is not spent accomplishing anything.  It is, however, spent building up factions and petty resentments over past arguments.  Eventually, a combination of personal friction and lack of obvious progress causes the group to disband.

If Occupy Wall Street wants to achieve something other than a modicum of media fame, it's going to need to do what its pseudoorganizers have so far resisted in the name of inclusivity (and maximizing participation): define what the group is for, what it wants to do, and what sort of behavior gets you kicked out.  Then it's going to have to figure out a way to enforce that.  I actually don't think that this would be so hard--if the other folks don't protect them, I am sure that the police will be happy to arrest the after-hours drummers.

But unless there is a fairly major restructuring of how the occupiers see their own movement, it's going to be pretty difficult to side with the police against someone who calls themselves an occupier.  Can they cross this conceptual chasm?  Certainly not without a bitter fight that will cost them some goodwill, and some members.  Maybe not at all.  But I think they have to, if they want to effect lasting change.

More on Interchange Fees

Apologies for the absence--I was wrestling with a column yesterday.  Luckily, this seems to have given you lots of time to comment on earlier threads, particularly the one on interchange fees.

That gives me a lot to respond to.  Let me see if I can hit the main points on interchange: 

1.  Debit cards are regressive; merchants charge slightly higher prices, which hurts people who pay cash.  True, but trivial; you need a fairly elastic definition of the word "hurts" to care about this.  We're talking about a transfer of, at most, tens of dollars a year.  There are lots of such transfers in the retail community: those who buy small amounts cost more than those who buy lots; those who park cost more than those who walk; those who use coupons and hunt for sales cost more than time sensitive shoppers who buy whatever they happen to want.  As I asked before the amendment passed last year: shall we also outlaw Costco because the urban poor do not have SUVs, spacious pantries, and large chest freezers in which they can store their warehouse club bounty?

You do not slap a price control on an otherwise functioning market because the poor might pay, over the space of a year, $20 more for food.  If this is a real problem, you increase the damn EITC.  (As maybe we should anyway).

Moreover, this was a bit rich coming, as it usually did, from the retail lobby.  I find it hard to believe that merchants were spending millions of dollars lobbying because they wanted so badly to pass their interchange savings onto the deserving poor.  I rather suspect they were hoping to pass the interchange savings onto their bank accounts.

There's evidence for this, by the way: according to the GAO, when Australia slapped price controls on their interchanges, there's no evidence that prices went down.  Of course, you can handwave and say that well, maybe there was a lot of other stuff going on and we couldn't detect the effect, but here's the problem with that:  if we couldn't detect it, that means that the effect was very small. And we should probably shy away from enacting regulations to achieve ends that are undetectably small.  

To add insult to injury, switching from interchange fees to higher bank account and debit card fees is hardly a progressive change.  People with comfortable balances and good credit will either get free checking, or they'll use credit cards.  Lower balance users with worse credit (read: poorer people) will pay the fees.

2.  You're asking merchants to subsidize your free checking and air miles.  Talking about who subsidizes who is pretty much meaningless in a two-sided market, which is what credit cards are: they need to attract both consumers and merchants.  Do magazine subscribers subsidize corporate advertising, or do advertisers subsidize magazine reading?

What pisses off merchants is that they also need to attract consumers, which means they have to accept credit cards, which means that the fees for supporting the payment system come mostly out of their pockets.  I probably wouldn't like it much either, but the fact that Harris Teeter and Wal-Mart have to pay for the fixed costs of operating a payment system, rathe than Ma and Pa Middle Class, does not strike me as some sort of cosmic injustice in urgent need of federal remedy.

3.  The new system is more transparent.  This is, to me, a frankly bizarre argument.  A cap on debit interchange fees is a price control, not a transparency initiative.  There is a reason that very few transparency advocates focus their energy on slapping price controls on everything in sight.

I mean, sure, if you set the price of bread at the wholesale cost of a loaf of bread, stores would carry a lot less bread, which would certainly show people how little interest stores have in selling products at a loss.  And there would probably be lines for bread, which would certainly be very intrusive and obvious to everyone, rather than the "hidden subsidies" for store lighting and shareholder dividend payments that used to be folded into the price of bread.  And if you did this for all the goods in the store, then you'd probably have to pay a fairly hefty admission fee to get in the store, or a fat fee for parking, or something that would cover all the fixed costs of operating the store and attracting customers and so on.  This would certainly make it clearer to customers how much it costs to operate a store.

But this would not be a blow for transparency; it would be a gross market distortion.

To apply this to a two sided market: if you fixed the cost of advertising at slightly above the physical cost of printing an extra page, magazines would lose a lot of revenue.  And obviously, they would have to make the costs up somewhere, presumably by raising subscription fees.  But this wouldn't be "more transparent" in any interesting sense, even though yes, it would make many customers much more aware of the costs of running a magazine.  It would just be an elaborate way to put most magazines out of business.

4.  It's only disgusting big banks who don't care about their customers who are slapping on these added fees; smaller banks and credit unions didn't do it, so the fees must just be a cynical ploy by greedy bankers, rather than an actual effect of the Durbin amendment.

Ahem.  The reason that credit unions and small banks are not slapping higher fees on their account holders is not that they are kinder, more considerate folks who only have the best interests of their customers at heart.  Rather, they were exempted from the caps on interchange fees.

Note that I am not trying to argue that large banks are not greedy.  Indeed, I assume they are, just like small banks, medium-sized banks, and people who comment on my blog about interchange rules.  But I tend to assume that my bank is greedy all the time, not just when Dick Durbin is running around capping their interchange fees.  So why did they wait until the cap before imposing the new bank account charges?

Moreover, if all of us did as some of my readers have urged, and switched our custom to smaller banks, this would entirely undo the alleged point of the Durbin amendment, was to lower the interchange fees that retailers are paying.

5.  Retail is more competitive than banking, so more of the fees will get passed through.  Argument by assertion.  Neither commercial banks nor retail operations compete entirely on price, but my understanding is that retail banking in the US is pretty competitive.

Moreover, well over half of the fees supposedly go to cover either rewards, or the transaction costs of bank accounts and payments, according to a report frequently cited by supporters of Durbin, so the merchants would have to be passing through almost all of the savings in order to make this a better deal for customers.  Even if you allow some higher benefit for cash over air miles, I don't think you can allow much, because so many rewards these days are . . . cash back.

How likely is it that they'll be passing through the vast bulk of the gain? Well, remember that merchants have three or four classes of customers: credit, cash, check, and debit.  The fee cap is not going to deliver a huge savings on every transaction; just substantial discount on a fraction of them (and not even that, if the lower interchange fees push people onto credit cards, or into credit union accounts where the fees aren't capped).  

I expect that this fragmenting of payments is going to significantly reduce the competitive pressure to distribute the gains to consumers, since we're talking about something less than a penny off for every dollar in the price of a product.  Most debit card purchases are not $800.00 flat-screens; they're gallons of gas and cartons of milk. Maybe gas stations will feel compelled to give you that half a cent per gallon; it's one of the most competitive commodities on the market.  But for things like groceries and drugstore items, I'm skeptical.

The Interchange Fee Rules Hit Home

A couple of weeks ago, I lost my debit card.  Well, "lost" is a strong word.  I'm sure it's somewhere in my house, but since I don't know where it is in my house, and I kind of need a debit card, I had to go into the bank yesterday and ask for a replacement.

Bad news.  My American Airlines AAdvantage debit card, which I have been using with great joy for years, has been cancelled.  In truth, I'd been expecting this to happen ever since Dick Durbin managed to pass a price cap on interchange fees in order to help his friends in the retail sector.

So naturally, I did what I had to: I opened up a new American Airlines AAdvantage credit card, which I will use instead.

I'm very much not happy about this turn of events.  I don't like using credit cards; they make it easier to spend too much, and harder to track our net worth.  But even less do I like cramming my extra long legs and my back problems into cattle class for long-haul flights, a problem I currently solve by using my accumulated miles to upgrade to first class.  So now I'll be using a credit card and paying off the balance every month, at some inconvenience to myself, and no gain to anyone.

Note that this mitigates the one even semi-plausible claim about the vast benefits of price caps on interchange fees.  Sure, you might have higher fees for your checking account and debit card use; sure they might take away your miles.  But hopefully we'd get lower prices, as competition forced retailers to pass the savings onto consumers.  Sure, this might be a fitful and lengthy process, but in the long run we'd all be better off . . . 

Unless the capped fees caused people like me to shift to credit cards, in which case there would be no savings, and no lessening of the regressivity that activists complained about, since the new fees are most likely to hit the smallest accounts.  In fact, as a result of this, I now have free checking that I didn't before, since in the shuffle, Citibank rationalized my old, expensive account into a global system that will eliminate the small monthly fees I used to pay--as long as I maintain a decent-sized balance.

So, thanks for nothing, Dick Durbin.  I sure hope Target and Wal-Mart sent you a nice fruit basket.

The Limits of Stimulus

Kevin Drum ponders an interesting factoid: rising gas prices have pretty much wiped out the whole cash value of the stimulus to families:

Stimulus is hard in an energy-constrained world. I confess that the more I think about this, the more I wonder if conventional fiscal/monetary policy has as much traction as we believe. I'm not an energy fundamentalist by any stretch, but the constraints are real. Ordinary stimulus measures still work, and we should be pursuing them more aggressively, but I can't help but suspect that we're entering an era where they're getting less effective all the time.
My macro professor at the University of Chicago argued that the stagflation of the 1970s looks pretty good as an oil-led phenomenon; when supply constraints are real, stepping up the fiscal and monetary policy gives you inflation plus economic doldrums.

But how relevant is that to the current recession?  Well, James Hamilton has made a prettly compelling case that oil prices are responsible for more of the current setback than we might think.  And even if you dispute that, I think it's easy to agree that they're making a bad downturn worse.

While I was at Chicago last weekend I sat down with Raghu Rajan, formerly Chief Economist of the IMF.  And one of the things he pointed out is that the Great Moderation bred this assumption that policy can always do something.  That may not be the case.

The Best Things in Life are Free

Matthew Yglesias explains why we should be happy that the Chinese are subsidizing their solar industry:

I do think it's always helpful to try to take a "real resources" viewpoint on these things. What's at issue here, basically, is that China is trying to give us a bunch of free solar panels. It's quite true that insofar as we've been organizing economic activity around the (reasonable) assumption that China won't give us a bunch of free solar panels, that getting the free panels will cause some dislocations. But it seems implausible that the best possible way of dealing with the situation is to refuse to accept the panels. That (poor) China has chosen to boost domestic employment by subsidizing consumption in (rich) America is slightly bizarre, but we may as well try to enjoy it while it lasts.
But won't they gain a permanent strategic advantage over us, I hear you cry?

Well, this does sometimes happen. But it's actually really rare. Notice how all the electronics goods seem to be manufactured in China? Even though we invented many of them (and the Japanese are responsible for a lot of the rest?)  Notice that all the jobs assembling sneakers and looming textiles seem to have moved along with them?  Sure, we had know-how and strategic supplier networks.  But these were no competition for enormously cheap labor.

Even if we succeeded in creating, via subsidy, a vibrant domestic solar panel manufacturing industry, there's no reason to think it would stay here . . . unless you're planning to continue the subsidies forever, which is like trying to get rich by paying yourself to mow the lawn.

This is why it's so stupid to focus on "green jobs".  The reason to promote green energy is to mitigate global warming, lessen economic dependence on some very volatile and unstable parts of the world, and build enough scale and demand that you maybe someday usher in an era of power that's "too cheap to meter", as they used to promise about nuclear.  I understand why it makes sense politically for Democrats, but it's also dangerous, because if you can't produce the jobs, a lot of your support for the "green" evaporates, a long with a lot of green money.  

In other words, calm down and enjoy your complimentary solar panels.

Anemic Pension Funds Still Hemorrhaging

Here's a problem with traditional corporate pensions that I hadn't really thought about: in bad times, when the fund looks shaky, they may be vulnerable to something akin to a bank run:

That's the kind of uncertainty prompted American Airlines Captain Rod Carlone to leave the work force last month, much sooner than he had expected. Carlone says he did not want to risk missing out on a lump sum payment if the American Airlines Pensions Inc. Pilot Retirement Benefit Program Fixed Income Plan (the pilot pension plan) was underfunded. After almost 24 years at American, he flew his last flight on September 30 from Dallas to Los Angeles.

"I can't afford at almost 62 a financial setback I could not recover from," Carlone says. "I live in Las Vegas, and this is one wager I didn't want to make."

Concerns about the pension have resurfaced in recent months, but the airline says participants shouldn't worry. "We have a history of meeting our pension obligations," says Sean Collins, director of financial communications at American Airlines.
If people are concerned about the health of the pension, they may be more likely to retire early--or to take the lump sum, rather than the regular payments.  This forces the pension to liquidate assets just when prices are weakest, and further undermines the health of the plan.

And pension plans are not healthy right now.  They're getting hit by a double-whammy: tougher funding requirements, and a market that's not doing much.  As an institutional fund manager I recently spoke to told me, "correlations are too tight right now; all you can do is trade the spread."

There's not much to be done about this--I'd need some pretty powerful convincing before I'd argue in favor of relaxing pension funding regulations.  (Though anyone who wants to try is hereby invited to give it a shot).  And if politicians knew how to make the markets healthier, they'd have done it a long time ago.  Still, this is another vulnerability in a system that really didn't ned another vulnerability.

If You Favor a Policy, Please First Figure Out What it Is.

I moderated a panel on infrastructure and jobs at the Bipartisan Policy Center this morning, and one of the topics that came up was an infrastructure bank.  Asked about it, one of the panelists said "what I'd like is to make all the members of Congress write a 100 word essay on what an infrastructure bank is."  It was a good line, and the audience laughed because it hints at something all too true when it comes to discussing policy: there are a lot of ferocious advocates of policies they can't explain.

I have read or heard some variant on this a hundred times or more since the financial crisis:

When the financial industry came to the brink of collapse because of the reckless behavior of these "too big to fail" corporations, we saw an amazing ability for our government to come together to bail them out. In return, they've repaid the favor by working night and day to lift the already watered-down provisions of the Dodd-Frank reforms so they can continue with their same insanity, and to basically act like spoiled, entitled brats towards those of us who saved their butts in the first place.

Contrast this with any legislation in Congress that might actually help out rank-and-file Americans, and suddenly everything becomes gridlocked and impossible to achieve. From out here, it appears that when you have a lobby on your side, government works, and if you don't, well tough luck.

We march for three simple things: tighter regulation of the financial industry (a return to Glass-Steagall would be a big step)
The passion is certainly real, and understandable.  But the attachment to Glass-Steagall is not. Of the hundreds of times I've seen this, in all but two or three cases it's been absolutely clear that the person advocating this could not describe the content of Glass-Steagall (presumably the one passed in 1933), nor the multi-decade unraveling of its major provisions.  If anyone makes any of the obvious criticisms--"Really?  You want to bring back Regulation Q?"--they're not even particularly sheepish about admitting that well, of course, they're not exactly familiar with the whole thing, but . . . 

What follows is usually a defense of the one provision they are familiar with: the enforced separation of commercial banking and investment banking activities.  But when asked how this would have helped, when it was the pure play investment banks created by Glass-Steagall that had the most trouble, I've never seen any of Glass-Steagall's fans provide a convincing explanation; indeed, it's often been quite clear that they weren't aware of this fairly well-known fact. 

So how did they fixate on Glass-Steagall?  As best I can tell, aside from the IMHO erroneous belief that Glass-Steagall would have somehow prevented the TBTF problem, there's a sort of folk legend that it was done in the thirties to curb the excesses of the 1920s banking system, and that since the banking system was rather placid after it passed, it must have worked splendidly right up until the point where vile legislators repealed it at the behest of their banking buddies .  And so of course, it seems like the most natural thing to restore it.  It seems to be further recommended by the fact that it would cost a bunch of banks quite a bit of money, which they don't like.  

But this is not much better as a policy argument than suggesting that all banks should be forced to construct imposing edifices in the neoclassical style, in which they must house all their operations.  At least if we did that, we'd dress up Main Street a little.  And I can't wait to see what the drive-thru ATM looks like.

Similarly, a libertarian of my acquaintance recently found himself cornered at an event by a fellow complaining that government spending was far too high and needed to be cut, a proposition for which he offered in support . . . the work of Art Laffer.

"But didn't Art Laffer say that cutting tax rates would raise the amount of revenue that the government collects?"

"Well, sure," said the Lafferite.

"But then wouldn't government spending go up?"

The Lafferite, never having actually connected these two things in his head, fell mute.  Laffer was just a sort of generic support for lower taxes, not evidence for anything actually specific, like what would happen to government spending if you cut taxes. Art Laffer could have claimed that lower taxes cured gout, and presumably the chap at the party would have been just as enthusiastic.

Then there are the tax nuts, which is nearly everyone.  I have seen reporters, wonks, and innumerable blog readers repeat the administration's claim that oil companies were getting unconscionable tax breaks which need to be reformed to pay for urgent policy priorities.  I have yet to encounter one who could describe any of these tax breaks; even if they knew the words "percentage depletion allowance" or "intangible drilling costs", they can't describe what those things are.  Nor are they aware that many of these allowances are already disallowed for the large oil firms, who effectively almost have their own special tax code.

Don't get me wrong: I'm hardly a tax expert.  And there are some wonks, readers and journalists who really are.  These people frequently offer interesting takes on these issues, of which I am an avid consumer.

But the number of people who are outraged by these tax deductions, and think they should end, is in my experience clearly much larger than the number of people who have even the most minimal grasp of principles of tax accounting, or a theory of when and how the code should recognize a taxable event, much less a glancing familiarity with the provisions of the tax code to which they are quite indignantly opposed.

Myself, I don't have a very strong opinion about things like the optimal depreciation period for corporate jets, drilling costs, or resource deposits; whether oil companies count as manufacturers for the purposes of receiving a rather stupid tax subsidy that shouldn't exist for anyone; or whether income taxes levied on oil companies in foreign countries should actually count as royalties for the purposes of assessing their US income tax.  These issues seem complicated to me, value judgements with no obvious answer.  

And with a few notable exceptions, this is true of most of the people I know who write or think about these sorts of tax questions: there's a healthy recognition that a whole lot of tax law is struggling with boundary cases, and that there is no possible configuration of the tax code which will make all those boundary cases go away.  They may suggest that a 12 year depreciation schedule would be a more appropriate choice for corporate-owned airplanes, but they rarely suggest that a 7-year schedule represents an egregious and unforgiveable giveaway to the President's rich friends--or that anyone who supports any corporate income tax at all is the ideological next-door-neighbor to Pol Pot.

Why, then, are the ignorant not merely so much more passionate, but so much more certain? It is a great mystery.  But I think we could vastly improve the policy discussion by requiring everyone to write 100-word essays on what their preferred policy actually is, before they are allowed to talk about it.

The 1% Ain't What It Used To Be

Unsurprisingly, Occupy Wall Street have pushed income inequality to the center of the national conversation.  Also unsurprising, I think, is the unspoken assumption that income inequality has continued to get worse since the crisis.  After all, where are the bankers panhandling for change or standing in line at the food pantry?

But it would actually be quite surprising, if true.  The massive, decades-long data set assembled  by Piketty and Saez seems to show that income inequality falls during recessions, and particularly during prolonged crises.  Crises destroy capital, and top incomes tend to be more tightly linked to capital than those of average workers.  If you work for a wire factory that goes bankrupt, you may well have a rough year or two before you find another job, and your income may never fully recover. But if you own that factory, it will be years before you have an income even close to what you enjoyed before--and it's very possible that you'll never get there at all.

Note that this is not an argument about who suffers more during a recession; it is self-evident that a worker who loses a third of their $20,000 annual paycheck is much worse off than an owner who loses two thirds of their $500,000 annual draw.  But the measured gap between their incomes will still shrink dramatically.

That's why I was surprised, two years ago, when census data seemed to show that income inequality had continued rising.  However, I filed it under "maybe this time is different" and didn't really revisit the subject.

But as it happens, I was back at the University of Chicago this weekend for my tenth business school reunion.  And while I was there, I ran into Professor Steven Kaplan, who has done a bit of research into what sorts of occupations contributed to rising income inequality. (Shockingly, finance played a large role.)  And he told me that my initial assumption seems to be correct: the incomes at the very top started falling in 2008.  The Piketty-Saez data, which currently run to 2008, show a little bit of it.  But Kaplan has calculated the incomes of the top 1% and the top 0.1% for 2009, and his results show that they continued to fall pretty steeply.  (There's nothing more recent than that because tax data take a while to be finalized).

Here's the chart he sent me:

Screen shot 2011-10-19 at 3.06.16 PM.png
The decline in the share going to the top 0.1% is if anything more dramatic.  I threw together a chart based on the data he sent me:
Top zero-point-one percent.png
There's an obvious caveat: 2009 was a very bad year for finance, corporations, and lawyers, who drive a lot of the top income.  Probably 2010 and 2011 weren't so bad, so these results may well rebound considerably when the data are in.  (They also may not; I just don't know.)

Also, this only shows the 1% and the top 0.1%; maybe the 0.01%, or the 10%, are doing really well, but these groups aren't.

The larger question is "how much does it matter"?  I doubt Occupy Wall Street will be assuaged by learning that the top 0.1% now only receive 8% of the income earned in the US, even if that number is the lowest it's been since 2003.

But I think it does matter.  If we think there's a real problem, we need the best possible data so that we can understand its contours.  Income inequality has been rising for so long that people have started to assume that it has just kept rising, even when the data show otherwise. We don't want to spend years focused on income inequality, only to learn that the financial crisis fixed it for us.

(If income inequality is declining, what's all that happening on Wall Street?  Well, for one thing, the data I've seen seem to show that whatever has been happening to incomes, unemployment inequality remains very much with us.)

The 9-9-9 Plan

A number of commenters want to know what I think about Herman Cain's 9-9-9 tax plan: 9% federal sales tax; 9% "business flat tax" (basically a VAT); and 9% personal income tax with no deductions except for charity.  The answer is that I don't, mostly.  Herman Cain obviously never intended to be the presidential front-runner, and his policies show it.  I don't think he's going to be president, and if he becomes president, I don't think that anything remotely resembling this plan will become law.

I will give him this: there's a lot to be said for blowing up the tax code and replacing it with something much simpler.  This plan avoids a lot of the contentious of the current tax code: the necessity of calculating net taxable business income; the dangers of high marginal personal tax rates.   In a 9-9-9 world, taxes would be much easier to calculate and collect.  He'd put a multi-billion dollar tax preparing industry out of business overnight.

Nonetheles, the plan looks like (and as I undertand it, is) something prepared by a very smart person who thinks a lot about policy in the abstract, and knows nothing about the policy process in particular.  That's not all bad--policy wonks are as prone as anyone to navel gazing and herd thinking.  But in this case, it means that he didn't know enough to cover all his bases.  There isn't any proof that this plan would collect as much as the current tax code--not even "proof" of the wildly overoptimistic variety that campaigns usually provide for these sorts of plans.  Nor has he been prepared to address concerns (entirely valid) that this plan would be less progressive than the current system.  And though I haven't seen anyone raise it, adding a VAT to a sales tax is going to be hella expensive for consumers.

Even if those concerns are addressed (though it's hard to see how, given that the rates are baked into the name of the plan), there's another overwhelming problem, as many of the other candidates have been pointing out: it's not going to pass.  People don't like sales taxes, precisely because they're very transparent and hard to evade.  People love their tax deductions.  Lobbyists from industries with high capital costs will descend on Congress like  birds in a Hitchcock film.

So beyond what I write above, I haven't spending a lot of time pondering the whiches and wherefores fo the plan: it's not ready for primetime, and it's not going to become the law of the land.  That's all you really need to know.

Update:  Josh Barro argues that Cain's "business flat tax" is essentially a VAT, and upon reflection, I think he's right.  I've updated accordingly.

The Price of Argentina's Default

Dean Baker is tut-tutting at Planet Money for their segment on the 2001-2 Argentinian default:

NPR's Planet Money made its entry in the Stake Your Claim game show with a segment on Friday that claimed that Argentina is suffering horribly as a result of its decision to default at the end of 2001. It turns out that Argentina has actually been doing quite well since its 2001 default as the most recent data from the IMF show.

argentine_GDP_21495_image001

Source: International Monetary Fund.

As can be seen, Argentina was already in a severe recession prior to default. It had tied its currency to the dollar, which went through the roof following the East Asian financial crisis in 1997. While the United States could support the trade deficit that resulted from the over-valued dollar, Argentina could not. It eventually had no choice but to break its peg with the dollar and default on its debt in December of 2001. Its economy fell sharply in the next quarter, but had stabilized by the summer of 2002. It then began to grow rapidly and was above its pre-recession level by the end of 2004.

Paul Krugman piles on:

This isn't the only case where news organizations consistently report as truth something that didn't happen, while failing to report what did. Another one that comes to mind is the California electricity crisis of 2001-2002. As some readers may recall, that crisis was caused by market manipulation -- and that's not a hypothesis, Enron traders were caught on tape telling plants to shut down to create artificial shortages. Yet "news analyses" published after the whole thing was revealed would often tell readers that excessive environmental regulation and Nimbyism caused the crisis, with nary a mention of the deliberate creation of shortages.

And as you'll notice, in both cases the imaginary history just happened to be one more comfortable to status quo interests.

As it happens, I had just listened to that podcast when I saw that piece. And I can't believe that Dean Baker and Paul Krugman listened to the same podcast that I did. In fact, I find it hard to believe that they listened to it at all.

Let me start by saying two things: I agree with what I presume is the Baker/Krugman position, which is that Argentina needed to devalue and default.  However, I think the story is a bit more complicated than Baker makes out.  For starters, I'm not sure why Dean Baker chose to index to 1998, which makes it look as if Argentina's default were the key to stratospheric growth rates.  But if you index to 1980--the first year of the IMF data series--default and devaluation don't look quite so miraculous:Thumbnail image for Argentina3.png

As you can see, the dollar peg was very bad for Argentina. When Argentina left the peg and defaulted on its debt, they ended a multi-year recession, and rebounded to nearly the GDP levels they'd enjoyed before the peg.  [Editor's note: tragic excel mistake now fixed] (The figures are based on real GDP in Argentine pesos).  But they didn't discover some miracle economic elixir; it's more like they stopped banging themselves in the head with a sledgehammer. They also got an enormous boost from a commodity boom driven by rising Chinese demand; Argentina produces a lot of agricultural exports, and when those prices rise, so does the Argentine economy.

However, even this obvious (in retrospect) step was not cost-free: GDP growth doesn't tell the whole story. Defaulting and breaking the peg wiped out a lot of domestic savings, further tanked the economy and the banking system in the short run, and cut off Argentina from the capital markets.  This was exacerbated by the way Argentina chose to default: they demanded extremely stiff "haircuts" from their creditors.  And since the bond agreements stipulated that the bonds were payable in dollars, and that disputes would be adjudicated in foreign courts (mostly, I believe, the US), Argentina had no way to force creditors to accept those terms.  Many of them didn't.

Of course, the creditors had no way to force Argentina to pay, either.  So there's a sort of standoff . . . except that those creditors still have legal claims on Argentine assets, and if any of those assets are found on foreign soil, the creditors can seize them.  Which in turn means that Argentina has a very hard time raising money abroad, since their creditors can legally seize the proceeds.  (Also, people don't like lending money to governments who refuse to pay more than 35 cents on the dollar to foreign creditors.)  Argentina has, I believe, been able to borrow some money, but nothing like what it was able to access before the crisis.

So who cares?  The Argentine government, that's who; that inability to finance deficits has pinched.  Devaluation raised the peso value of their debt, so rather than building up reserves, Argentina used the proceeds of its commodity boom to pay down debt and stimulate consumer demand.  When the global financial crisis drove commodities into a temporary slump, the government was caught out, unable to borrow the money they needed.  They turned to their equivalent of America's 401(k) system, seizing the money on the pretext of protecting the elderly.  They've also used central bank reserves to pay their debts. Their capital markets remain shallow and prone to capital flight at the first sign of trouble.  If there's more trouble in the global economy, what does the government do for an encore?  There's not much left to nationalize, and I don't think there's going to be a big appetite for their debt in the near future.

The shallowness of their capital markets has also made it hard to diversify beyond those booming commodities.  The other sectors of their economy have not, as I understand it, been developing as you'd like to see.  They remain vulnerable to falling prices in their key export sectors or appreciation in their currency.

All of which is not to say that devaluation and default were bad ideas (though you can, I think, make a strong argument that they would have been better off taking a more conciliatory approach towards their bondholders).  Argentina was in a very bad spot; I think that leaving the peg and forcing its creditors to take a haircut was the best of the terrible choices open to its governments.

Remarkably, this is exactly the point that the Planet Money podcast makes--if you listen to the whole thing.  I mean, sure, the host says something like "If you can believe it", but they explain very clearly that post-default, the Argentine economy boomed.  I don't understand why Krugman and Baker believe that they "claimed that Argentina is suffering horribly as a result of its decision to default at the end of 2001".  Here's the end of the podcast, with highlights added by the justifiably protesting Planet Money team:

Robert Smith: It has been a tough decade for Argentina, but a lot of people think that the default was the best thing to happen to them.

Zoe Chace: After the money was devalued, banks opened up again. Pesos weren't worth as much, sure, but Argentinian products suddenly looked cheap on the world market. And that's been really good for Argentina's economy. Exports of staple products like soybeans and wheat went up. And eventually, some investors started to lend Argentina money again...

Robert Smith: This whole thing is something of a happy ending, after a long nightmare of a story


Which is not surprising, because when it comes to Argentina, as far as I know, the "status quo" view is that default and devaluation were pretty much inevitable. I haven't spoken to anyone who thinks that with the economy stuck in a four-year recession, riots in the streets, and the government changing leaders every few days, Argentina could have held onto the peg much longer.  And once it left the peg, default was inevitable, because there was no way they could pay that much dollar-denominated debt while collecting taxes in radically devalued pesos.  The only question is whether the transition could have been handled better--a question that neither Krugman nor Baker address.

But as you'll notice, the imaginary history is more comfortable to the interests of a quick blog post.

Updated to correct an error in the chart, to add the relevant section of the podcast, and to clarify my points of disagreement with Krugman and Baker.

Give Me Liberty and Give Me Death?

Ezra Klein has an interesting article about the Cleveland Clinic's move to cut its own health costs by somewhat curtailing the choices that its employees can make about their lifestyle:

That left enforcement. The clinic tracks its employees' blood pressure, lipids, blood sugar, weight and smoking habits. If any of these are what the clinic calls "abnormal," a doctor must certify that the employee is taking steps to get them under control. Otherwise, no insurance rebate. The idea is to force employees to have regular conversations with their doctors about wellness. If they participate, they can lock in the rates they were paying two years ago. The savings amount to many thousands of dollars.

It appears to be working. Not only has the clinic cut its health-care costs, but its employees are also getting healthier in measurable ways. Workers have lost a collective 250,000 pounds since 2005. Their blood pressure is lower than it was three years ago. Smoking has declined from 15.4 percent of employees to 6.8 percent.

In one sense, the clinic has achieved the health policy ideal: cutting health-care costs by making people healthier. But consider how the clinic has done it -- tying premiums to personal decisions, firing smokers, tracking employee metrics, eliminating popular sodas and foods from campus. By making it harder and more expensive for employees to be unhealthy, the clinic has radically overstepped the traditional, laissez-faire approach of employers to their workers' personal habits.

It also opens the door to onerous forms of discrimination. The clinic no longer hires smokers. Will the obese eventually face similar hurdles? What about fans of fast food? The experiment might work at a famed medical center where the CEO plausibly argues that aggressive leadership in health care is central to the institution's mission. But would it work at General Motors? Caterpillar? Wal-Mart? Medicaid and Medicare?

Roizen thinks it can -- and should. He estimates that an aggressive program could cut federal health spending by $300 billion to $600 billion a year. If he's right, then simply instituting such wellness reforms could cut the federal deficit by far more than the Simpson-Bowles commission or the congressional supercommittee would.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, I'm pretty skeptical.  Let's start by asking what the selection bias was.  Cleveland fired two high-profile doctors who wouldn't quit smoking.  One imagines that employees who do not want their employer nannying them about their gym time and alcohol consumption probably decline to work at the Clinic.  

Selection bias will produce good results for the selecting organization, but you cannot replicate its results on a nationwide scale; fat, smoky people have to work somewhere (or go on welfare).  If this became common, you'd see legislative pushback in the form of discrimination lawsuits and legislation.  I'm betting there are more obese workers/voters than there are people who hit the gym five days a week.

There's also the question of lifetime cost profile.  Cleveland mostly isn't covering people in that expensive last year of life; that honor tends to go to Medicare and Medicaid.  Cleveland saves money if its workers have fewer smoking-related problems, but if that keeps them alive long enough to get Alzheimer's, their lifetime health cost may go up.

Now, you can certainly argue that it's still a net gain--people live longer, healthier lives.  And I agree that longer and healthier lives are a worthy goal.  But from a cost perspective, I suspect that there's less to the Cleveland model than meets the eye.

An UnCLASS-y Act

I was traveling on Friday, so I missed blogging about the untimely demise of the CLASS Act, the long-term care program long-dreamed-of by Ted Kennedy which helpfully added over $70 billion to ObamaCare's projected deficit reduction over the ten-year CBO forecast window . . . before blowing up into another monstrous, budget-busting entitlement.

HHS, which was required to certify that the program was sustainable, couldn't, and thus it is no more.  The program has taken about half of ObamaCare's projected deficit reduction to the grave with it.  Conservatives are having a field day, but Kevin Drum argues that this is actually good news:

Yesterday the Obama administration finally abandoned the CLASS Act, a program to subsidize long-term elderly care that was part of the healthcare reform bill. Conservatives are in full war whoop mode over this, and I suppose I don't blame them. The budget forecasts for CLASS were always dodgy, and conservative concerns about this have now been vindicated.

But they should contain themselves anyway. What happened here is that government worked exactly the way it ought to. The CLASS Act was passed in a fog of rosy estimates and emotional appeals (it was one of Ted Kennedy's longstanding priorities), and the Department of Health and Human Services immediately began the detailed work of writing the implementing regulations to get it up and running. And guess what? They did their work honestly and conscientiously. Even though it was a liberal program promoted by a longtime liberal icon, HHS analysts eventually concluded that its conservative critics were right and the program as passed was flawed. So they killed it. And most of the liberal healthcare wonks that I read seem to agree that, unfortunately, HHS was right.

This is how we all want government to work.
It is of course, great news that the administration has not actually gone forward and implemented an unsustainable program that would have had disastrous effects on the federal budget.  But it's not great news that HHS has found that the program was just as disastrous as conservatives said it was . . . yet a Democratic Congress, deep in the passion of their historic moment, passed the damn thing anyway.  It's in fact deeply troubling.  The problems with CLASS were known from day one, but no one listened, because it gave them good numbers to sell their program politically.

Now it turns out that ObamaCare reduces the deficit over ten years by about $70 billion instead of $140 billion.  Only . . . what about all the other stuff that had problems, like the reimbursement cuts that both Medicare's chief actuary and the head of the CBO warned might very likely prove too deep to sustain medically or politically?  Can we assume that Democrats exercised the same thought and foresight about the other parts of ObamaCare that they did with the CLASS Act?  How come all of those liberal health care wonks that Kevin cites were unable to identify the problems with this program before it passed?

Last March, I did a retrospective on the law's first year anniversary, wherein I pointed out that there had been a lot of bad news, and no upside surprises.  Six months later, we've had more nasty surprises, and the "upside" consists of the entirely unsurprising revelation that forcing insurers to cover kids up to 26 results in more kids under the age of 26 being covered, at some cost in rising premiums.

During the debate over health reform, a lot of liberals were suggesting that ObamaCare's deficit reduction was just as likely to be larger than projected as less--or even that the CBO's scoring process systematically underestimated the savings from new health care programs.  Jonathan Cohn professed himself "baffled" by the belief "that, rather than try and craft a fiscally responsible program, the Democrats instead figured out the CBO's accounting methods, came up with ways to make an expensive program seem deceptively cheap, and then fiddled with the numbers to get the result they wanted."

But how else do we explain the CLASS Act, which the Washington Post warned about in December 2009?  Or the utterly moronic provision forcing small businesses to give 1099s to all their vendors?   Are we really to assume that these were not stupid gimmicks put into the law to, erm, "make an expensive program seem deceptively cheap", but rather, represent the sober and considered judgement of Democratic legislators and the Obama administration about sound fiscal policy?

That's a far scarier thought, actually.  For if the CLASS Act is genuinely what those legislators and that administration consider a good idea, we might as well just hand over our wallets and pray.

More on GOP Obstruction

Andrew Sullivan posts an email from a reader arguing against the sometimes-popular counterfactual that Democrats would have happily obstructed McCain:

Ross Douthat apparently has a bad case of amnesia. We actually have empirical evidence on the question of whether congressional Dems would work with a GOP president to fix the economy. As the economy faltered in 2008, Bush asked the Democratically-controlled Congress to pass a number of economic measures. While Bush himself wasn't up for relection, Dems could have seen political hay in obstructing Bush, letting things tank, and then beat up on the GOP while doing nothing.

So what did the Dems do? In February of 2008, Congress passed a stimulus bill that included tax rebate checks - checks mailed with a prominent letter attributing them to President Bush, if I recall.

That measure passed with a majority of the Democrats supporting it, and a majority of Bush's own GOP *opposing* it! The same thing happened with the TARP bill in the fall of 2008; the Democrats were MORE supportive of Bush's emergency measures than the Republicans were. How can Ross possibly square that reality with a claim that just a few months later, in 2009, the Dems would have become utterly intransigent with John McCain replacing Bush?

Good point.  However, neither Andrew nor his reader seems to notice that this also provides evidence against the popular left-wing belief that the GOP is just hoping to bring the economy down so that Obama will lose, or reflexively opposing anything Obama says.

The GOP voted against TARP before there was any electoral benefit to doing so.  To coin a phrase, they were against stimulus before they were against it.  

This seems to signal that they were against these things because they thought that they were wrong, not because they thought that it was tactically useful to oppose it.

Who Besides Solyndra Got Loan Guarantees?

Solyndra CEO Brian Harrison just resigned, as the controversy stubbornly refuses to go away.  Seems worth revisiting the loans once again, since I've spent a little time looking more deeply at the program over the past few days.

Supporters of these programs claim that they're a necessary part of winning the green future because these are investments that are too risky, or too big, for private capital to take on.  

Of course, if the government is going to be a VC, supporters say, they have to expect a high failure rate. There's a lot of talk about the manufacturing "Valley of Death", where startup manufacturing firms may have difficulty getting capital to commercialize their prototypes.  According to proponents of this theory, there's plenty of money for early stage ventures, and plenty of bank loans for established firms, but no money for mass commercialization of new manufacturing ideas.  (Hence the "valley").  This valley, they say, is especially wide for energy firms, because the capital costs for starting up are so high.

I've been somewhat skeptical of those claims--why are people pouring money into manufacturing startups if they're inevitably doomed to die at the commercialization stage?  But say it's true.  I thought it was worth looking at who got the money from these programs, and for what.  How well is the government doing in its role of VC/valley of death sherpa?

So I went to the DOE's website and manually copied the data on the loan programs.  I didn't scrutinize all of the projects--I've already spent more time on this than is probably justified.  But I looked at the biggest ones.  I put all the number into pretty graphs.  And then I thought I'd share those graphs with you, because hell, I have them.  

What I'm trying to say is, I just made my first infographic.  

I know what you're thinking: "But Megan, infographics are so July 2011!"  Yes, it's true: I only adopt trends when they are hoary with age.  And I know what else you're thinking: "But Megan, you have the design sensibility of a blind person!"  Also pitifully true.  In my defense, however, I confined myself to pie charts.

Hell, I can't really defend it.  I was in the grip of forces beyond my control.  Anyway, here's the breakdown of where the money went:

infographic new.png

I thought about adding a breakdown by state, but figured that I'd already subjected you to enough.  However, I couldn't help but notice a distinctly heavy Nevada presence, including $343 million for a transmission line that has no obvious "clean" application, except for some vague promises that it could be used to carry clean Nevada energy to California.

Obviously, there's a point to this.  That is, I hope that the infographic will be broadly useful to people who support the program: I figure everyone should be interested to know where the money went.  (And here's a spreadsheet for those who want to trundle through the data themselves). But I have highlighted what jumped out at me: most of the money has gone to enormous companies that should have no trouble accessing capital.  Established utilities, large multinational auto manufacturers, a global warehouse owner.  The bulk of these funds are not going to rectify some gap in the capital markets.  They're straight subsidies to huge corporations.  Even some of the smaller firms/deals are owned by large corporations like Total SA.

Giving large, established companies extra-cheap loans to build power plants, run transmission lines, and fix up the roofs of their warehouses is, in the immortal words of P.J. O'Rourke, like paying a Dairy Queen owner to keep his ice cream freezers on.

This has implications for the default rates.  The genuine startups seem to be shaky--it's not just Solyndra, but also Nevada Geothermal and Brightsource.  In other words, the firms that actually need the money are likely to experience a far higher default rate than the overall portfolio.

Why does that matter?  Because it skews our perceptions of the usefulness of the program.  If we loan a bunch of money to firms that could easily get the money elsewhere, and a little bit of money to firms that are very risky, we can claim a high "success" rate even if all the risky firms fail.  But we won't have actually added much value, because the government wasn't addressing a genuine market failure.  It was just giving Ford and Nissan some extra-cheap money.

But if we're not really filling a gap in the capital market, this is a terrible way to go about subsidizing clean energy.  We should be subsidizing the outcome we want: more solar panels installed, more clean vehicles purchased.  If the demand is there, companies will be able to go out onto the market and borrow to fill it.  It doesn't do us much good to have a bunch of shiny new electric cars--that sit on dealer lots.  Or solar panels in the Solyndra warehouse.  We should be paying for performance.  Otherwise, we're not winning the future.  We're just sticking a green smiley face on the same old corporate welfare--and the government's less like a VC than a farmer slopping the pigs at the trough.

The Declining Hotness of Flight Attendants

Glen Whitman asks why there are fewer startlingly beautiful flight attendants any more:

For an economist, the most fascinating aspect of Pan Am is the highly attractive flight attendants -- or rather, stewardesses, since the show is set in the early 1960s. If you're young enough, you might think that's just TV. But I'm just old enough to remember flying in the 1970s, and I recall stewardesses who really were, in fact, hot. Okay, I was too young to understand the concept of "hot" -- but I was definitely aware that I was being attended by some very pretty young women.

Not so anymore. Flight attendants aren't necessarily unattractive now, but they're no more fetching than people in any other service profession that doesn't get tips. And what's changed? In a word, deregulation.

Prior to airline deregulation, which was passed in 1978 and completed over the next few years, airfares had been set by the Civil Aeronautics Board (CAB). For many routes, those airfares were simply too high. As predicted by a simple supply-and-demand model, airlines were willing to offer more flights at these high prices than customers were willing to buy. Under normal market conditions, that would lead to falling prices. But since the airlines legally could not compete on price, they competed on quality instead. They offered better service, better food, and... wait for it... more attractive stewardesses.

When deregulation came along, however, it became apparent that as much as male customers might have enjoyed the eye candy, they weren't willing to pay for it. Higher quality might seem like a good thing, but it's really only good if the benefits exceeds the cost. More attractive staff can command higher wages. The airlines could have continued to pay them, if the higher quality had attracted more customers. But as it turns out, most people just wanted to get where they were going, fast and cheap. Deregulation fueled a democratization of air travel, making what once was a luxury item available to nearly everyone. The number of people who fly at least once a year has more than doubled since 1978, while the population has grown by about 40%. These new customers have flocked to the airlines with no-frills or low-frills service, a trend that continues to this day (JetBlue, anyone?).
As a libertarianish economics blogger, I would love if this story were true.  But I'm skeptical.  Stewardesses used to be subject to all sorts of extremely strict rules: they couldn't be married, couldn't gain weight, couldn't get pregnant, couldn't be much over 30.  If you fire everyone who violates those rules, then yes, you will select for a much "hotter" group of women than the current crop. 

You could probably still get a large group of young, hot women to take a job that involves free flights all around the world.  But those jobs are no longer open, because airlines stopped firing all the old, fat parents. Thanks to a combination of feminist shaming, union demands, and anti-discrimination laws. Moreover, once they no longer fired people over a certain age, union seniority rules immediately started selecting for older workers, in two ways:  layoffs are usually last hired first fired, and older people have a lot of sunk costs in terms of pension accrual and seniority, so they're less likely to leave.  If you fly a major airline, you'll notice very few stewardesses in their twenties. 

In the 1970s, these trends would have been playing out; most stewardesses were still young. Now they're lifers.  Any new airline can create a better looking workforce by hiring good-looking workers.  But it can't guarantee that they'll stay hot.  When the workforce is unionized and in it for the . . . pardon the pun . . . long haul, eventually you end up with what we've got: a workforce composed mostly of older and not particularly attractive people.  Mirroring the larger American workforce.

You can argue that deregulation hastened this by making price discrimination fiercer, so that there were more layoffs, and airlines were less able to offer a wage premium that would attract better looking workers.  But I suspect this played a minor role--less important than other trends, like the mass movement of women into the workforce.  Fewer women were looking for a job that would let them travel for a few years before they got married, and there were better alternatives for a long-term career.  Moreover, the changing workplace meant there were more female business travelers on expensive tickets--and they usually don't care whether the stewardess has a nice rack.

If you look at the national airlines in countries where anti-discrimination rules and/or unions are less powerful, like Qatar or Asia, you'll notice that they spend a lot of time here advertising . . . their hot stewardesses.  (Also their lay-flat seats.  But don't forget the super-hot stewardesses).  That's not because they're in an oligopoly.  It's because the domestic labor market lets them get away with it, and ours doesn't.  

No More Servants

The other day, Arnold Kling asked a sort of interesting question: why hasn't rising inequality resulted in in the much-predicted oligarchy?  Or to put it as he does: with so many unemployed, and income increasing faster among the affluent, why aren't people hiring more servants?

In an economy where some folks are very rich and many folks are unemployed, why are there not more personal servants? Why don't Sergey Brin and Bill Gates have hundreds of people on personal retainer?
Some possible answers (some of them culled from, or inspired by, his comments section.  I encourage you to read it through.)

1.  Various forms of public assistance, and wealthier families, have increased the reservation wage.  A servant in 1900 worked at least 10 hours a day, at least 5.5 days a week, and according to our archives, cost at least $25 a month for a "passable" one.  Many middle class people could probably afford to pay about $500 a month, plus a room and some food, for someone who would take care of all the housework, all the time.  But how many Americans would work for such a sum?  Our house was built in that era, and either they didn't have live-in servants, or the help was sleeping in a pretty gnarly unfinished basement.  You'd have to be fairly desperate to take the equivalent job today, and almost no one is that desperate.

2.  There's a tax wedge.  If servants were more common, the IRS would be more assiduous about auditing for payroll taxes, etc.  (Already a problem for working women with nannies who end up in public service). My mother actually paid taxes for her cleaning lady, and it was not only expensive, but an administrative nightmare--somehow, the numbers never added up right, the paperwork got lost, etc. Taxes reduce the differential between the value of your labor and someone else's, because you don't have to tax you.

3.  Regulatory overhead  See above.  The modern labor regulatory system is set up to deal with corporations, not individuals contracting for informal labor.  Either the work ends up in the gray economy (illegals), or it's contracted out to companies that can amortize the regulatory overhead over a lot of workers (Merry Maids)

4.  Management  Workers have to be managed.  They leave.  (Hance Saki's memorable epigram: "She was a good cook, as cooks go.  And as cooks go, she went.")  They need to be replaced.  Sometimes the replacement doesn't work out.  All of this takes time.  For the mistress of a house in the era before labor-saving appliances, managing servants was undoubtedly more pleasant than scrubbing the coal scuttles. But it was a job.  And many high-paid women in the sub-Gates class have full-time jobs; they don't have the time to take on full time employees.  A large servant class may have presupposed the existence of a large class of women at home.

5.  Labor saving devices  Servants were often standing in for things that machines now do more cheaply, and without stealing the silver.  

6.  Cultural mores We have a much greater affection for personal space than people did in the era of large families and small heating appliances.  Most people don't want anyone else in their personal space.

7. Liability  These days, you're liable for the actions of your employees in a surprisingly wide variety of circumstances.  Safer not to have employees.

8.  Communications, tools, and transportation increased the efficiency of outsourcing  I don't need a gardener; I need to pay a landscaping company to come by once every few weeks and run their high-octane power mower around the lawn.  In effect, we rent servants by the hour, and some of them are mechanical.

Unprecedented Congressional Obstructionism Is Actually Quite Precedented

I haven't blogged about Harry Reid's "mini-nuclear option" or whatever it's now being called, in which he altered Senate procedure on the fly in order to prevent Republicans from forcing a vote on Obama's original jobs plan.  That's because I haven't formulated much of an opinion.  On the one hand, I'm generally in favor of allowing the minority room to slow stuff down.  On the other, I would like the minority to confine itself to things that actually matter, not stupid campaign stunts that might persuade five voters somewhere deep in the heart of Indiana to vote (R) instead of (D).

However, this has renewed many of the complaints about "unprecedented obstructionism" from the GOP congress.  And I do have an opinion on that.

As it happens, the other day I had an opportunity to interview David Kennedy, the author of the absolutely splendid Freedom from Fear: The American People in Depression and War, which I commend to all of you as both a valuable history of the Great Depression, and a beautiful read.  Kennedy and I had a long discussion about the parallels between the current situation and various historical precedents, which I'm hoping to get written up later in the week, since I could only use a small fraction for my piece.

One of the things we talked about was the obstruction that Obama has faced.  And it turns out there was a very good parallel: the Democratic Congress that Hoover had to contend with.  By the last year of his term, Hoover had a Democratic majority in control of congress.  And according to Kennedy, they used their power to the hilt.

"Hoover also faced a very obstructionist Democratic Congress--they understood, as these guys do today, that if they just go in the middle of the road and refused to move, that would benefit them at the next election.  And it paid off."

The myth of Hoover's inaction in the face of the Great Depression was thus partially a product of the opposition party that greatly benefited from its propagation.

Hoover was, as Kennedy put it, "a wonk"--one of the generation of progressive Republicans who thought that a little government, like a dollop of Daisy, could make everything better.  But that didn't help him much in the face of an opposition that wasn't interested in listening to his master plans.

"Time after time he thinks he has a good idea, and he's often right!  But he doesn't seem to be able to dream up any new tool to get them to move.  The obvious new tool was radio, and he didn't see how to use it, while Roosevelt seemed to get it instinctively."  Ironic, since Kennedy notes that as Commerce Secretary, Hoover "got the implication of radio right away".

So there is a precedent: the obstructionist Congress that helped usher in the New Deal. 

Of course, you could argue that Hoover would have been out anyway.  And you'd probably be right.  But it's hard to justify making things worse in the short term.

The more charitable take is that they may have genuinely believed that all of Hoover's ideas were bad.  Plus, as Kennedy notes, it's possible they didn't really think that what they were doing was so bad.  Remember that for a while in the early thirties people thought things were getting better; it was the second wave of bank failures in 1931-2 that really made the Great Depression "Great", and it wasn't necessarily easy to see what was happening in the instant.  "You can argue that they didn't understand the gravity of the situation," he says, "and they were willing to bear [a little pain for a greater gain]."  

In fact, I'm sure that there are a lot of progressives who would defend the obstructionism--if the alternative were the slightest risk that there would be no New Deal.  Politics is tough on the pure-minded.

At any rate, the point is that no, the current situation is not unprecedented (there's also the infamous "Do-nothing Congress" that Harry Truman campaigned against in 1948).  When there's a lot of upheaval, a lot of disagreement about what to do, and a lot of political advantage to be gained, the opposition party opposes.  And sometimes they gain by it.
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