National Health

I’m still on the national scene. I’ll have to mix it up with more local color, I know, but for now I’m fixated.

I have been considering the arguments for and against the administration’s – and, somewhat by extension, Congress’s – plans for spending their way out of the recession. A scandal-hobbled and severely weakened Republican party is attempting to rally the conservative faithful to guard against the administration’s incremental “takeover” of the free market, their plan to “socialize” health care, their designs on “dismantling” the Bush tax cuts. I suppose to them, it looks like Armageddon. But to me it just looks sensible. I try very hard not to be partisan on questions of nuts and bolts policy, and maybe that’s impossible, but I just can’t see the problems. Here’s how they look to me, one by one:

Socialism and the end of free markets? Hardly – the economic crisis is certainly more complex than you or I can fully understand, but one thing is pretty clear: if our financial markets collapse, we will have a very much bigger hole to dig ourselves out of than if we can do something to prevent that collapse. And that “something” is a cash infusion to free up capital, loosen credit restrictions, and increase the so-called “velocity of money” to get spending and growth back in the picture. It’s not a long-term solution to our problems (see below), but it’s a way to avoid longer-term problems in the short term, if that makes sense. The short explanation is “Japan” – their “lost decade,” economists agree, was longer than it might have been due to very sluggish action by their federal regulators at the outset of their own economic crisis. Like our domestic free market stalwarts, they were squeamish about intruding on the mysterious mechanisms of the “invisible hand” guiding the financial system. The result was a shut-down of credit availability that slowed their economy to a crawl for many years. The government came in with money and loan guarantees, but late, and the damage took longer to undo. It’s fortunate, in a way, that our crisis occurred on Bush’s watch, and the first massive bailout was planned and conducted under his administration. It quiets the noisemakers a little, as they must acknowledge that this is not a “Democrat” thing. I for one believe Obama when he says he doesn’t “want” to be in the banking business – it’s a necessity for now. As much as we may despise the big financial players for their greed, recklessness and willful ignorance, before we can make any systemic changes we must shore up the system we are currently working under. In fact I agree that we need a second stimulus. The alternative could very likely be chaos.

Nationalized health care – I just can’t see what’s wrong with it. The best way to express this is to look at the preliminary numbers and to note the many examples abroad from which we can learn and plan. I believe it’s safe to say that in the U.S., we waste a lot of money when it comes to health care. How else to explain that among industrialized countries, we are first in spending but only middling in performance (according to many published reports)? That is, we spend – by far – the most per capita on health care, but we receive, in terms of health care access and quality, nowhere near the best product. Why? One obvious reason is middlemen and the exorbitant costs of health care administration, insurance itself, and drugs. It’s no secret health insurance cost is outpacing inflation by a wide margin. Why? Drug costs are also through the roof. Why? Perhaps the why is unimportant. If we can offer a public solution to compete with these monolithic insurance companies and hospital organizations, the very competition we want to protect will be served. Rather than crush competition, a public plan might force a highly consolidated industry to simply take fewer profits and reduce inefficiencies and redundancies. Would it be so bad, for example, if your local hospital didn’t have a two-story atrium, marble floors and an espresso bar? I guess the question comes down to whether health care is a “product” or, at a basic level, a “right.” In a nation as wealthy as this one, it can be both. The cost of the health care plan before Congress is roughly 1.5 trillion dollars over ten years. But if we look at the projections of what we will spend as a nation on health care without the plan – estimated at about 35 trillion over the same period (we spent a verified 2.4 trillion in 2008 and are projected to spend 3.1 trillion in 2012 and 4.4 in 2018) – that “huge” number doesn’t look so big. Furthermore, if such a plan forces private industry to compete, to force efficiencies in the system and to be satisfied with smaller margins, then spending that 1.5 trillion—or even more—may actually end up saving us all money. I for one think it likely. We just have to have the guts to go head to head with the health care giants. As for the giants, I don’t blame them for wanting to protect their golden goose. But I would be very disappointed in our public “leaders” for not going after a few eggs for the rest of us out of fear or, worse, because they are themselves  in the pockets of Big Medicine.

Tax increases!!! – I believe, if memory serves, that the decade or so of massive tax cuts for the wealthiest Americans was offered up by the Bush administration and defended by a sycophantic Federal Reserve as a “solution” to our economic “problems”. Well, here we are. Can we try something else now? The interesting thing is that as the economy has cratered under this philosophy, the very rich are getting – you guessed it – richer. In constant dollars, the gap between rich and poor in this country continues to grow. And the concentration of wealth in the upper echelons continues to concentrate as labor and the middle class absorb more and more of the tax burden. At last report, the richest 1% of Americans controlled 20% of the country’s wealth. We all know this. It’s not necessary to point out that these ultra-rich pay “more taxes” than the local McDonald’s manager (in terms of percentage and dollars). Of course they do, because they can afford it. Paying 46% of a 100 million dollar income still leaves you with 54 million, you know. And I don’t need to be reminded that they “risk” their capital to start businesses, create jobs, etc. Of course they do – because with risk comes reward. And – a very important point – they have the capital to risk in the first place. Do you? You work hard, don’t you? You “invest” as much as you can – in the market, your 401, Beanie Babies, whatever, knowing your investment is at risk. And yet – gosh – you are still taxed. How come? The answer is pretty clear – because you (and I) don’t write the tax laws. It should be crystal clear by now that trickle-down economics is at best a fantasy and at worst a form of theft. Give the super-rich more money, and they put it in the bank. They don’t spend it (because they don’t need it). Or, worse, they lend it back to the government at attractive interest rates to allow the government to pay its debt – debt it has incurred because it does not collect enough taxes. Which creates ever more debt. This really happens. It’s not the rich people’s fault – they’re programmed to make money, they really can’t help it. And within reason that’s a good thing. But the cycle we’re in is not good for the rest of us. So it’s up to government to equalize the tax code already – and by equalize, I mean ask those who reap the greatest rewards from this economy to contribute the greater share toward its maintenance, until we have equilibrium. Heck, some of them (notably Warren Buffet) are themselves asking to be taxed more.

But what it really all comes down to, I and many others have been thinking, is what we value as a people. The familiar refrain during this recession is that the only way out of it is if Americans “start spending again,” as if only the working and middle classes can save us by buying a new TV. I can see how this helps the TV manufacturer and Wal-Mart – but how does it help the rest of us? Americans, it seems, are going exactly the opposite way. They are buying less expensive things, and fewer things, and smaller houses, and “staycations”. They have started thinking about what they buy, rather than buying out of habit or from advertised coercion. They are, in a simple word, simplifying. They may even find they like it. I have found, even though I like the possessions I have, that too many possessions is not a blessing but a burden. They just weigh you down.

So how do we save the economy? Maybe by spending – but not on TVs. Maybe we spend on better health care access for everybody (a net savings due to increased wellness), better roads and bridges (which will need building anyway), more efficient energy systems and factories and appliances and cars and homes (also a net savings and a balm for our abused environment). We should spend on outreach and assistance to Africa and to our so-called “enemies,” spend on alternative energy research to reduce our consuming addiction to their natural resources (which is how they became “enemies” in the first place) and in so doing de-fuse their own leaders’ anti-American rhetoric. In short, instead of buying a TV, let’s buy a sustainable future. We can simplify our material life and invest instead in our national and global health – in every sense of that term. It is a short-term asceticism that may well bring forth a long-term flowering of our nation and culture into what it always had the potential to become: a nation of progressive, fair-minded, egalitarian individuals working both for ourselves and for the common good of our fellow citizens and the world. It’s not impossible if we just decide to do it. The only obstacles I can see are greed, paranoia and cynicism. I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough of that.

I Have Nothing to Say

You know, sometimes there’s just nothing to say. I have been, for the last couple of years, as they say, largely “silent” as a writer. Some claim writer’s block. I, on the other hand, claim it not. It’s different. It’s more as if, with the great cacophony of opinions swirling around the – I can’t say it – blogosphere, the prospect of adding one’s lonely voice to that tiresome, bloated chorus is just a little bit demoralizing.

Or a lot. I don’t know. But this is what I do.

Suffice to say, I am crawling back to the surface like some college boy tossed into the pool at the 3 a.m. mark of the frat party. Why? Because, oddly, I must. I have no excuse for it. I have been working on some fiction, which I believe I’ll start stapling out on this board for anyone who may be interested. And I’ve got matches – matches for sale.

Seriously – I have felt like some primordial mud pit long crusted over but with an insistent bubbling magma beneath – some of which must surface, and form some strange new organism, while other channels must stay submerged, flowing forever beneath the surface. So it is.

I won’t say my mood is good, but it’s not too bad. There is, again, a kind of pacific stability to my life – it is the peace I crave in order to hear myself in the quiet, and also the peace I abhor because, let’s face it, life is not a study hall.

I mean, dude.

There’s so much to say, I have no excuse for not saying it. So here we go. I was reading over the old entries here today, one day after I pulled the switch and registered supergiantsquid.com as my own personal domain*. So here’s my pledge to you, dear possibly non-existent public: I will take up the mantle of explaining life inside this mortal coil once again, and try to make public sense of this world – the one we drop into, like a baby set adrift in the rushes.

But we can leave all that behind.

Welcome Home, Bub

How long has it been? Well, I last checked into this place in 2005. I guess a lot of time has passed. Does it matter? Let’s check:

2005: At war in Afghanistan.
2009: At war in Afghanistan.

2005: At war in Iraq
2009: At war in Iraq

2005: Economy straining under the weight of two wars, investors getting rich on vapor securities
2009: “Is this the end of the bread line?”

2005: Patriot Act II
2009: Socialist Act I

Of course, in 2005 we were in year 5 of George Bush, and looking down the barrel of 3 more. Who could have predicted just how bad those three years would be? As pessimistic as I was, I never imagined a total economic meltdown, nor the abject failure of both wars to achieve any kind of U.S. advantage in the middle east (or anywhere else), nor the unfathomable persistence, during the implosion of our society, of persistent conservative faith in the very policies that have brought us here, to the brink of the second great depression.

It truly was a presidency of historic import. Just not the good kind.


 

In the summer of 2008 we saw something very frightening coming – the grave possibility of four to eight more years of war, war, war, and tax cuts, tax cuts, tax cuts and, let’s be frank, very light intellectual efforts. These two prongs of the McCain plan–both expensive in terms of government solvency–are clearly incompatible over the long term. Wars are paid for, I’m told, with tax dollars. So if you want lots of one you need lots of the other. We all actually liked John McCain previous to the campaign (and now that it’s over). He was actually kind of bright and fairly moderate, even level-headed, until the Klieg lights went on. But then we had to watch him, live and in color, as we watched the likable George W. Bush of the 2000 campaign, morph into a generic Republican presidential candidate pandering to the religious right, the America Firsters, and the trickle down bubbleheads in Congress who can imagine absolutely nothing else the government can do to aid the country apart from cutting taxes for the very wealthy, whupping Islamist extremist ass, and doing as little else as possible.

And it looked like they were going to win it. They were going to win it on personality alone, and not just personality, but the personality of Sarah Palin the Painted Pit Bull. When this appeared to be the case, when the country fell over for an American Idol politician who, it appeared, was going to get by on her looks alone, I almost couldn’t deal with it. I almost went a little crazy. I mean, I’ve never been a big flag waver, but I do wish for the country to persist. I can’t even imagine wanting to vote for its likely implosion out of partisan spite – and yet that looked to be the way it was going for conservatives. Palin was “funny,” in that she had some clever put-downs of Obama in her campaign bag of tricks. She was “down to earth,” in that she was not an intellectual, not interested in the news or American foreign and domestic policy and what not – no, she was interested in…hockey. And old-time religion. And abstinence-only sex ed (sorry unwed 17-year-old highs school drop-out prego daughter – it’s a vision thing). And the “young earth” theory. Because science is offensive to God.

This was the woman who, should the cancer-addled, increasingly disoriented, 70-something McCain expire or become incapacitated during his term, would assume responsibility for a nation on the brink of economic and military disaster – responsibility for an economy which, should it go down, would bring the rest of the world down with it in a prolonged world-wide depression.

Turns out, of course, we had nothing to worry about. Things were so bad, so systemically broken and mismanaged at every level, from mortgage brokers to finance CEOs to government “regulators” at Justice and the SEC – so bad that everything fell apart well before inauguration day.

And fortunately, on inauguration day, instead of a mediocre, shape-shifting political stalwart with no new ideas standing there taking the oath because it was his “turn”, Barack Obama stood there, and took the oath that may have just saved the world.

So I’m hopeful. I voted for hope. That doesn’t mean things will get better any time soon. But it means that if they get worse, it won’t be for lack of brains or due to an ignorant willingness to let the “invisible hand” of the markets finish the job it started: namely, the decimation of the American and world economies through greed, malfeasance, incompetence and a criminal disregard for the safe management of other people’s money. Yeah, banks, I’m talking to you. Apparently you are the market, and you are also, ironically, the enemy of the market. You have destroyed yourselves, and are attempting to take us along for the ride.

But I’ll say this – you look at Barack, you listen to him, and you get one overarching impression: sure, the guy’s a politician – that’s who does politics since we’ve made it a business – but he’s also smart, capable, decisive, broad-minded, and fair. And he wants to beat this thing for the benefit of everybody, not just Wall Street.

Anyway, I’m back. And I’m pissed. But you know, I feel better already. Thanks for listening. Next time I’ll fill you in on what I’ve been up to.

October

I awoke to the first cold Monday morning today. The bed, with its pillow-top mattress and down comforter, seemed mighty preferable to the cold floor, dark hallways and…work. How many personal days do I have left…?

The day brightened up as I got some hot coffee in me and made it to the car–I mean it literally did. The slanty sun himself came up over the city as I crested the highway North, the first time I’ve seen it do that in months. And it did not disappoint. A hazy red gumball, a Japanese flag. Later on, a small V of geese, black in silhouette, passed overhead, heading down the Missouri to wherever they are going. A fog monster glided up over the stubble field they crossed, trying to act threatening as the sun burned its edges into feathery wisps of cold smoke.

I do love October. Yesterday I spent all morning cleaning windows, to let that strong October sun in the house, perhaps also an unconscious attempt to head off that snowbound feeling before it starts. In the afternoon I walked a golf course alone, cheating and cursing myself into a pretty good score. My calves are sore now, remembering all those uphill par fours.

The day before we took our annual pilgrimage to Nebraska City, home of Arbor Day and Arbor Lodge, which is now a state park. The Lodge, on 160 acres (bought from Uncle Sam at ten cents per), was originally a four-room frame house built in the 19th century–the first one, they say, West of Nebraska City and East of the Rockies. Through several generations and additions it ended up as the impressive mansion home of J. Sterling Morton, secretary of agriculture and founder of the Morton salt company as well as Arbor Day itself. There’s a fantastic carriage house with various period carriages from the 1880s to about 1910, bought on a whim when Morton could snatch them up for a song (cars, you know). There’s also a working apple orchard and many varieties of trees planted throughout the estate. There’s also some new commercial crap they’ve built to increase the tourist factor–I think they call it “Tree Adventure”–but we always avoid that area of of the park.

We had lunch at Johnny’s Corner Cafe in downtown Nebraska City, where I had the massive hot beef sandwich, famous in three states. We bought some nice Fujis and come cherry cider at an old orchard outside of town.

As I walked the grounds of Arbor Lodge with my little family that afternoon, full of roast beef and mashed potatoes, I was able to capture for a little while a bit of that unattached contentment that is so rare, and so valuable. As my daughter swung on my arm and we walked up the rutted carriage path to the house, she scattering squirrels and us laughing at her, the sun friendly on us and not too warm, the clouds like big scoops of mashed potatoes themselves and the sky that curious October blue, the moment lapsed into one of perfect ease. For those few minutes, absolutely nothing else was on my mind, nothing nagged at my attention. I was, the day was, we were–it all was, and always will be nothing more nor less. Time unconstrained, simply lived.

That night the crescent moon lulled low among silvery clouds, the clouds being their unique October selves. Friends came by for dinner, I built a little fire outside and drank a couple of beers with my friend, feeling the chill of the air and the warmth of the flames and the conversation. He told me about his garage sale, and of course we talked about music and life.

It was continuing to be a good day.

Editorial – Notes on the Passing Scene

–Revelations on global warming are coming fast and furious, such as an announcement the other day that atmospheric temperatures in Alaska have risen 3.6 to 5.4 degrees Fahrenheit over the past five decades, and another announcement that the Arctic ice cap is shrinking rapidly. It appears even our “leaders,” who generally prefer to ignore the environment in an apparent hope that it will go away, are being forced to admit the reality of industrial society’s contribution to the greenhouse effect. If only we could get them to admit that it’s time to do something about it.

–As we watched in horror, Katrina raged, people suffered and the government–all of it–failed utterly in its primary task to protect and assist its citizens. However, we were provided, and continue to enjoy, a spirited, roll-up-your-sleeves-and-get-to-it display of “the Washington blame game.” So we can take heart that at least one function of government remains operational in times of peril.

–Think of all the speeches we heard, all the programs we financed, all the money that flowed to state agencies, all the training, all the equipment, all the “mock attacks”–all the budget-busting resources poured into the post-9/11 push for better local disaster preparations and greater national security. On second thought, don’t think of it. It’s too depressing.

–Say what you want about Cindy Sheehan–and if you’re a pundit, you have–the woman is doing exactly what this country and its laws were set up to accommodate: a citizen speaking out against actions of government with which she disagrees. Now, this may make her a hero to you, or a traitor, but really she’s neither. She’s just an American with something to say. And yes, you have the right to disagree with her or not listen to her. No one said you didn’t.

–A recent study suggested that gasoline prices would have to remain in the five dollar a gallon range for five years in order to create the kind of behavioral change–combined trips, carpooling, purchasing of more fuel-efficient vehicles–needed to reduce dependency on foreign oil. Even then, they say, demand will continue to rise because of new drivers. Back in the forties we conserved in order to win the war. Now, it looks like we’ll have to win a war–or maybe several–in order to avoid conserving. Do I have that right?

–Speaking of war and Cindy Sheehan, a writer in Slate recently pointed out that president Bush’s thesis–that we have to “complete the mission” in Iraq in order to honor the sacrifice of the fallen, which includes Sheehan’s son–is a textbook example of the “sunk cost” fallacy. Applied to economics, those in thrall to the sunk cost fallacy attempt to justify future spending on an investment by citing the “loss” of past spending if more is not spent to achieve success. An everyday example is finishing that expensive meal even though doing so is likely to make you ill. The money is spent either way, and if you stop eating now you’ll probably feel better, but you cram in those last bites in order to justify the cost. With respect to Iraq, it may be logical to stay and incur future losses if there is a good chance of achieving the objective. But without a clear accounting of what the long-term objective is, along with its value to the nation and world and its likely cost in future American and Iraqi lives, it’s difficult to see how we as a nation can make a rational decision one way or the other.