Here's how to Welch-proof the jobs number in two easy steps
Jack Welch needs our help. The former CEO of GE has had a hard time understanding the September jobs report. Torn between the competing hypotheses that falling unemployment was a case of mean reversion or a shadowy conspiracy on the part of career civil servants, Welch has chosen the latter. Because ... Occam's Razor? Of course, this isn't to say we can't make the jobs number more accurate. We can. Here's how to Welch-proof it in two easy steps.
First, a big caveat. There's no need to Welch-proof the jobs number. House Oversight Chair Darrell Issa is concerned that the "constant revisions -- significant revisions -- tell us that it's not as exact a science as it needs to be," but the reality is the Bureau of Labor Statistics (BLS) already does a pretty magnificent job. As University of Michigan professor and former Labor Department chief economist Betsey Stevenson told me, it's important to think in terms of changes to the level and not just revisions to the change. In other words, the revisions sound big because we compare them to the initial change, but they aren't big compared to the 143 million people currently working. They're a rounding error.
But they're a rounding error we could eliminate. It's just a question of how much we're willing to pay. Right now the BLS gets its job numbers from a pair of polls, one of establishment businesses and the other of households. The first, and easiest, way to increase accuracy would be to increase the survey size and increase the number of questions -- that is, reduce the margin of error.
This is straightforward enough, but we can do better still. Justin Wolfers, a professor at the University of Michigan and Betsey Stevenson's husband, points out that the establishment data actually comes from two sources. There's the monthly poll, and the annual benchmark revision -- the latter of which looks at so-called "universe counts" of who has paid into unemployment insurance over the previous quarter. In other words, it's a very precise measurement of employment rather than a very precise poll of employment. What kind of difference are we talking about here? Well, in the year ending in March 2012, the benchmark revision found 386,000 more jobs than the establishment poll had found. That's not nothing.
Obvious question time: If the benchmark data is better than the establishment survey data, why don't we just use the benchmark data? The answer is one part infrastructure and another part convenience. The crazy thing is every state has a record of how many jobs there are, but we can't get to the records fast enough. The data are stuck on different, sometimes antiquated, computer systems, and only come in every three months. We could revolutionize how we calculate the jobs number if we harmonized these computer systems across all 50 states and required businesses to file unemployment insurance payments every month instead of every quarter. It would become an administrative, rather than a statistical, task, as Justin Wolfers put it to me.
There is, of course, a rather large irony here. The Republicans are effectively attacking the BLS for not being invasive enough when last year they attacked the American Community Survey (ACS) for being too invasive. The ACS is one of those boring but essential government functions that policymakers and business leaders alike can't do without -- it's an annual survey of three million households that covers everything from demographics, internet usage to how often they flush the toilet. Despite its 200-year history, House Republicans decided the ACS was unconstitutional, if not worthless since the surveys are "random" and "not scientific". (Pro tip: The randomness makes it scientific).
So does this brouhaha over the BLS mean conservatives care more about increasing jobs accuracy than about increasing the regulatory burden on businesses? I'm just asking questions.
A tanker that sank off the Chinese coast was carrying “condensate,” a mix of molecules with radically different properties than crude.
Over the last two weeks, the maritime world has watched with horror as a tragedy has unfolded in the East China Sea. A massive Iranian tanker, the Sanchi, collided with a Chinese freighter carrying grain. Damaged and adrift, the tanker caught on fire, burned for more than a week, and sank. All 32 crew members are presumed dead.
Meanwhile, Chinese authorities and environmental groups have been trying to understandthe environmental threat posed by the million barrels of hydrocarbons that the tanker was carrying. Because the Sanchi was not carrying crude oil, but rather condensate, a liquid by-product of natural gas and some kinds of oil production. According to Alex Hunt, a technical manager at the London-based International Tanker Owners Pollution Federation, which assists with oil spills across the world, there has never been a condensate spill like this.
Advocates are tracking new developments in neonatal research and technology—and transforming one of America's most contentious debates.
The first time Ashley McGuire had a baby, she and her husband had to wait 20 weeks to learn its sex. By her third, they found out at 10 weeks with a blood test. Technology has defined her pregnancies, she told me, from the apps that track weekly development to the ultrasounds that show the growing child. “My generation has grown up under an entirely different world of science and technology than the Roe generation,” she said. “We’re in a culture that is science-obsessed.”
Activists like McGuire believe it makes perfect sense to be pro-science and pro-life. While she opposes abortion on moral grounds, she believes studies of fetal development, improved medical techniques, and other advances anchor the movement’s arguments in scientific fact. “The pro-life message has been, for the last 40-something years, that the fetus … is a life, and it is a human life worthy of all the rights the rest of us have,” she said. “That’s been more of an abstract concept until the last decade or so.” But, she added, “when you’re seeing a baby sucking its thumb at 18 weeks, smiling, clapping,” it becomes “harder to square the idea that that 20-week-old, that unborn baby or fetus, is discardable.”
The stability of American society depends on conservatives finding a way forward from the Trump dead end.
Election 2016 looked on paper like the most sweeping Republican victory since the Jazz Age. Yet there was a hollowness to the Trump Republicans’ seeming ascendancy over the federal government and in so many of the states. The Republicans of the 1920s had drawn their strength from the country’s most economically and culturally dynamic places. In 1924, Calvin Coolidge won almost 56 percent of the vote in cosmopolitan New York State, 65 percent in mighty industrial Pennsylvania, 75 percent in Michigan, the hub of the new automotive economy.
Not so in 2016. Where technologies were invented and where styles were set, where diseases cured and innovations launched, where songs were composed and patents registered—there the GOP was weakest. Donald Trump won vast swathes of the nation’s landmass. Hillary Clinton won the counties that produced 64 percent of the nation’s wealth. Even in Trump states, Clinton won the knowledge centers, places like the Research Triangle of North Carolina.
Corporate goliaths are taking over the U.S. economy. Yet small breweries are thriving. Why?
The monopolies are coming. In almost every economic sector, including television, books, music, groceries, pharmacies, and advertising, a handful of companies control a prodigious share of the market.
The beer industry has been one of the worst offenders. The refreshing simplicity of Blue Moon, the vanilla smoothness of Boddingtons, the classic brightness of a Pilsner Urquell, and the bourbon-barrel stouts of Goose Island—all are owned by two companies: Anheuser-Busch InBev and MillerCoors. As recently as 2012, this duopoly controlled nearly 90 percent of beer production.
This sort of industry consolidation troubles economists. Research has found that the existence of corporate behemoths stamps out innovation and hurts workers. Indeed, between 2002 and 2007, employment at breweries actually declined in the midst of an economic expansion.
Allegations against the comedian are proof that women are angry, temporarily powerful—and very, very dangerous.
Sexual mores in the West have changed so rapidly over the past 100 years that by the time you reach 50, intimate accounts of commonplace sexual events of the young seem like science fiction: You understand the vocabulary and the sentence structure, but all of the events take place in outer space. You’re just too old.
This was my experience reading the account of one young woman’s alleged sexual encounter with Aziz Ansari, published by the website Babe this weekend. The world in which it constituted an episode of sexual assault was so far from my own two experiences of near date rape (which took place, respectively, during the Carter and Reagan administrations, roughly between the kidnapping of the Iran hostages and the start of the Falklands War) that I just couldn’t pick up the tune. But, like the recent New Yorker story “Cat Person”—about a soulless and disappointing hookup between two people who mostly knew each other through texts—the account has proved deeply resonant and meaningful to a great number of young women, who have responded in large numbers on social media, saying that it is frighteningly and infuriatingly similar to crushing experiences of their own. It is therefore worth reading and, in its way, is an important contribution to the present conversation.
Stories of gray areas are exactly what more men need to hear.
The story of Aziz Ansari and “Grace” is playing out as a sort of Rorschach test.
One night in the lives of two young people with vintage cameras is crystallizing debate over an entire movement. Depending on how readers were primed to see the ink blot, it can be taken as evidence that the ongoing cultural audit is exactly on track—getting more granular in challenging unhealthy sex-related power dynamics—or that it has gone off the rails, and innocent men are now suffering, and we are collectively on the brink of a sex panic.
Since the story’s publication on Saturday (on the website Babe, without comment from Ansari, and attributed to a single anonymous source), some readers have seen justice in Ansari’s humiliation. Some said they would no longer support his work. They saw in this story yet another case of a man who persisted despite literal and implied cues that sex was not what a woman wanted.Some saw further proof that the problems are systemic, permeating even “normal” encounters.
Republicans cobbled together the votes for a funding bill ahead of a Friday-night deadline, but it may be doomed in the Senate.
Updated on January 18 at 10:02 p.m. ET
The House on Thursday evening narrowly passed a bill that would keep the federal government open for nearly another month amid an impasse over immigration. But the proposal may be doomed in the Senate, where Democrats and a small contingent of Republicans could block the bill and send the government into a shutdown beginning at midnight Friday.
After an anxious day of arm-twisting and negotiations, Republican leaders were able to persuade enough of their members to go along with a stopgap bill many in the party plainly despised. Rather than fund the government for the rest of the fiscal year, it merely kicks the budget debate forward another month. In a largely futile bid for Democratic support, the bill reauthorizes the Children’s Health Insurance Program for six years. But it lacks several other Democratic priorities, most notably a permanent legal status for young immigrants who face the threat of deportation once President Trump ends the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program in early March. A group of Democrats voted for the measure, known as a continuing resolution, only after it was clear that Republicans were going to be able to pass it on their own. The bill passed, 230 to 197, with 11 Republicans voting against it and six Democrats voting for it.
The President of the United States of America once lambasted the reality TV show Shark Tank. It would seem that he’s not too keen on actual shark tanks, either.
Based on an interview with the adult actress Stephanie Clifford, who performs under the name Stormy Daniels, it appears that Donald Trump is afraid of sharks. That the self-avowed least racist person is deathly scared of great whites. “You could see the television from the little dining-room table, and he was watching Shark Week, and he was watching a special about the U.S.S. something and it sank, and it was like the worst shark attack in history,” Clifford recalls. “He is obsessed with sharks. Terrified of sharks. He was like, ‘I donate to all these charities and I would never donate to any charity that helps sharks. I hope all the sharks die.’”
In transcending left-right divides, the French president may be creating a monster of a different sort.
Foreigners are fascinated by French President Emmanuel Macron. And why shouldn’t they be? He’s the youngest-ever president of the French Republic, elected with no party and no previous electoral experience, a virtual nobody just two years before he leaped to the forefront of the French political scene. Of course people are curious.
But there’s another reason my non-French friends bombard me with questions about my president. Like myself, most of them have advanced degrees and upper-middle-class backgrounds. This sort of socioeconomic status correlatesstrongly with affection for Macron.
His views mirror those held by most of this “elite” class. He thinks the left-right divide should be transcended. He doesn’t care about outworn ideologies, but about solutions that work, wherever they come from. He thinks startups are cool and the economy should be generally entrepreneurship-friendly, but he also wants some sort of welfare state. He’s got no problem whatsoever with gay marriage. He believes immigration is desirable for both economic and moral reasons.
The tendency to converse with dogs, cats, and hamsters ultimately says more about people than it does about their pets.
“Do you think it’s weird that I tell Nermal I love her multiple times a day?”
My sister’s question was muffled, her face stuffed in the fur of her six-month-old kitten (named for the cat from Garfield). We were sitting in the living room of her apartment and, as always, Nermal was vying for our attention—pawing at our hair, walking along the couch behind us, spreading across our laps and looking up at us with her big, bright eyes. She’s almost aggressively cute, and inspires the kind of love that demands to be vocalized. I’d find it weirder if my sister weren’t doing so.
The question made me think about my own two cats, and our many and varied interactions throughout the day. I work from home and find myself narrating my tasks to them (“Okay, Martin, no more Twitter”) or singing impromptu songs (“It’s treat time / Time-to-eat time”). I tell them I love them; sometimes I ask them if they know how much I love them. On days spent away from my apartment, I return home and greet them by asking how their day was. It’s not like I expect them to understand or respond; it just sort of happens. I’d never really given it much thought. I don’t think I’m weird for talking to my pets like they’re human beings, if only because so many other pet-owners do the same. But why do we do it? I got the anthrozoologist and professor of psychology at Western Carolina University Hal Herzog on the phone to talk it out.