Social democracy as the answer to Trump

I’ve been reading Tony Judt’s Ill Fares The Land, his 2010 plea for social democracy in the last days of his life.  It turns out that Judt presciently anticipated the appeal of Trumpian authoritarianism in our insecure age — and offered social democracy as our best hope to withstand it.

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Tony Judt (New York Times)

Judt was a steadfast if begrudging admirer of social democracy–a political ideology that “does not represent an ideal future; it does not even represent the ideal past.  But among the options available to us today, it is better than anything else to hand.”

Social democracy is the true center of modern political thought.  Where socialism outright rejects capitalism, social democracy accepts it.  Social democracy aims to harness the engines of capitalism while tempering its rough edges, crafting the institutions and guardrails necessary to balance capitalism’s chaotic dynamism with a measure of ordered security.

That sense of security is dangerously amiss today, roiling much of the West with anxiety.  “We have entered an age of fear,” Judt wrote.  “Insecurity is once again an active ingredient of political life in Western democracies.”  This is the insecurity of terrorism, of technological change, of globalization, of economic inequality, of the prospect of job loss.  “And, perhaps above all,” Judt wrote, “fear that it is not just we who can no longer shape our lives but that those in authority have also lost control, to forces beyond their reach.”

This combination — an electorate both gripped by fear and inflicted with skepticism of their leaders’ ability to do anything about it — produces anti-democratic movements that offer stability by turning aggressively inward.  “If we can have democracy, we will,” Judt observed.  “But above all, we want to be safe.  As global threats mount, so the attractions of order will only grow. [. . .]  Outsiders, however defined, will be seen as threats, foes and challenges.  As in the past the promise of stability risks merging with the comforts of protection.”  That’s the lure of Trumpism that Judt saw coming.

The fearful society craves stability.  This stability can be provided one of two ways: First, it can be anti-democratic stability.  This is the order promised by a strong man — one who exploits this insecurity by vilifying the weak and the “other.”  One who looks at blighted communities cast to the margins of the American story and declares “I alone can fix it.”  One who assures those forgotten communities that he will “give you everything. I will give you what you’ve been looking for for 50 years.”

“Unless the Left has something better to offer,” Judt warned, “we should not be surprised to find voters responding to those holding out such promises.”

Fortunately, the Left does have something to offer — Trumpism isn’t the only answer to insecurity.  Stability can also be provided through democracy by crafting institutions to truly protect people from the risks of modern life.  “Social democracy in Europe, the New Deal and the Great Society here in the US, were explicit responses” to challenges and threats wrought by previous eras of insecurity, Judt wrote.  Where Trumpism offers recriminations in response to insecurity, the Left must offer reassurance.

What does that reassurance look like?  By and large, it means insuring individuals against commonly-shared risks in the twenty-first century.  Political scientist Lane Kenworthy laid out a full agenda for a Social Democratic America, including wage insurance to protect workers from cuts in pay, sick leave to insure workers in case of illness, a child benefit to insure parents against the costs of child rearing, and other social insurance programs.  It might also include an aggressive program of targeted government investment to stimulate stagnant communities, coupled with a federal works program, to function as a form of insurance against creative destruction discarding whole regions of the country.

Of course, a program of that scale and ambition will directly confront a public with ever-diminishing expectations in the capacity of its civic institutions and their leaders.  As Chris Hayes wrote in The Twilight of the Elites, we face a crisis of authority in the United States after a generation of catastrophic elite failure at every turn across virtually every pillar of society. This makes for a receptive audience for the authoritarians promising anti-democratic stability that bludgeons these very institutions, and a much more doubtful audience for those looking to achieve democratic stability through better and more comprehensive institutions.

Which means the Left’s message and messenger matter.  A compromised center-left version of social democracy in the hands of a leader closely tied to decades of institutional failure won’t be compelling.  While Hillary Clinton pushed an agenda packed with progressive technocratic reforms and programs, her institutional ties were too unshakable and her ambition to restructure the American economy too trimmed to compete with the vociferous anti-democratic stability offered by Trump.

The Left will need an outsider insurgent that can credibly lay claim to moving the country in the direction of social democracy.  Barack Obama pushed a centrist progressive agenda, but did so as an outsider reformer offering hope and relief from the failures and disappointments of the previous generation.  Bernie Sanders positioned himself as an outsider to the political class vowing social democratic revolution of the country’s institutions, but lacked the inspirational and heroic appeal of Obama that cut across all core Democratic constituencies.  Some combination of the two is what’s called for.

Moreover, a social democratic response to Trump isn’t necessarily about specific policies.  Rather, it requires making an unabashed positive case for the role of government to better citizens’ lives; for the capacity of a democracy to craft institutions to guard against threats new and old; for the ability of elected leaders to chart a course that enlivens struggling communities and ensures that prosperity is broadly shared.

Even if Trump’s presidency crumbles under the weight of chaos, incompetence, and scandal, the resonance of his dark message won’t necessarily follow suit in four years.  As the closest approximation of the Left in mainstream American politics, Democrats will only defeat Trump by offering voters their own vision of how to achieve security in the twenty-first century.  In an age of fear, the hostile illusion of security of the Right can only be matched by a hopeful communal security of the Left.

The Constitution is a sanctuary from Trump’s executive order

Last week, I published a column at Syracuse.com (my hometown news org) arguing that Donald Trump’s attempt to de-fund sanctuary cities is unconstitutional.  In short, progressive federalism for the win:

The Trump administration would like to shift the burden and cost of carrying out its political agenda of rounding up immigrants on to local cities, their police forces and their taxpayers. Unfortunately for the White House, the Constitution was devised to limit Washington’s powers, protecting states and cities from exactly this kind of federal encroachment.

Read the rest here.

A supreme theft

This week, Donald Trump announced his nominee to fill the Supreme Court vacancy that arose after Justice Antonin Scalia’s death during President Obama’s second term in office.  The nomination is the result of stolen goods that Senate Republicans housed for ten months and then giftwrapped for Trump upon taking office.  The coming Supreme Court fight is thus a bridge between the radical insurgent GOP of the Obama years to the vengeful and autocratic Trump regime taking shape—a fight that, for good or ill, will bind Trump and the GOP more than ever.

On March 16, 2016, President Obama nominated Merrick Garland to fill the Supreme Court seat vacated after Justice Scalia’s death.  Garland was the widely respected, long serving Chief Judge of the U.S. Court of Appeals for the D.C. Circuit, the second highest court in the land.  An ideological moderate, Garland had previously gained acclaim from influential senators on both sides of the aisle.

The Republican-controlled Senate refused to even hold a hearing or give Judge Garland an opportunity to make his case.  Instead, the Senate kept the vacancy open, denying Obama his constitutional prerogative to appoint a justice, and held onto the seat on the off-chance a Republican won the presidency in 2016.  This was an unprecedented abdication of the Senate’s constitutional duty to advise and consent upon the president’s nominee.

So the vacancy that Trump is now filling is the result of plunder committed by the GOP against the country’s first black president.  And that plunder was the culmination of a relentless effort to brand that president as illegitimate.  As Obama took office in 2009, Senate Republicans cast into minority opposition seized on their base’s fear and revulsion to Obama’s politics and identity and molded it into a legislative strategy.  Senate Republican leader Mitch McConnell vowed total resistance to the president’s supposed radical socialist agenda.  McConnell sought to deny Obama any stamp of bipartisanship, sullying the president’s popularity and lifting the Republicans’ chances to reclaim majority status in Congress.

Congressional Republicans did the work of tarring Obama as an ideological outsider.  Meanwhile, Trump was busy stoking fears of Obama as an ethnic outsider with a fraudulent birth certificate.  This all served to cement fear and paranoia in the minds of GOP voters that the White House was in illegitimate hands—even though that president was twice elected with a popular vote majority free of any foreign or law enforcement interference.  The Republican Senate’s theft of Obama’s last Supreme Court nominee was the final malfeasant act of eight years of delegitimization.

That is the legacy of Trump’s Supreme Court inheritance: one of theft and deceit.  The process for filling a seat on the country’s highest court is no longer governed by law or custom—and certainly not by the Constitution—but instead by raw power.  The operative principle now is that if Republicans have the power to deny a Democratic president a Supreme Court pick, they will do so.  It’s about power and nothing more.  Any other claimed principles—about letting the people have a say in the presidential election, etc.—are backward-manufactured rationales to justify a power grab.

Senate Democrats must now decide how to react.  Rightfully furious about their Republican colleagues’ egregious mistreatment of Garland, many are predisposed and ready to side with the demands of the party’s base to resist Trump at every turn.  Other Democrats worry about being blinded by rage and tripping into a fight that the party simply cannot win.

It’s true, Democrats will ultimately lose this nomination fight.  The left must understand the brutal math.  But that’s beside the point.  If Democrats think Senate Republicans will hesitate to nuke the filibuster on the next Supreme Court nomination if Democrats let this one go, they are deluding themselves.

This Court battle is not about the merits of the nominee.  And Democrats cannot to take the high road in a doomed attempt to save Supreme Court nominations from becoming a partisan race to the bottom.  Republicans are already running that race, and made clear with their treatment of Garland that the Supreme Court is no different from any other political contest.  Democrats have no choice but to engage in this fight or else make Supreme Court vacancies a one-way rightward ratchet where Democrats play by an old set of rules and norms that Republicans systematically obliterate.

If Democrats need a principle to justify fighting Trump’s nomination, here’s one: appointments should be required to get support from each party.  It’s hardly an unreasonable position—after all, Elena Kagan and Sonia Sotomayor both attracted bipartisan support.  And it wasn’t that long ago that Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg was confirmed by the Senate 96-3.  This would call for a widely-approved consensus nominee—someone in the mold of, say… Merrick Garland, of whom Republican Senator Orrin Hatch once said would be a “consensus nominee” who had “no question” of being confirmed.

But here we are.  One way or another, Donald Trump, a popular-vote loser of dubious electoral legitimacy and of whom a growing majority of Americans disapprove, will fill the Supreme Court seat heisted by Senate Republicans from Barack Obama.  This joint operation binds Trump and the GOP closer than ever, as Republican senators gush over the credentials and qualifications of his pick, seemingly oblivious to the impeccable credentials and qualifications of the man they spurned, Merrick Garland.

This linkage is about more than just a single Supreme Court confirmation, however.  There is a direct line from a conservatism that once sought small government to one that increasingly vilified government—that sowed distrust in institutions and then actively worked to weaken those institutions, creating the vacuum of authority that is ripe for Trumpism.  For an ideology that once prided itself on restraint, respect for tradition, and deference to preexisting institutions, conservatism has clearly lost it way.  When followed to its extreme, the endpoint of conservatism is Trump.  It is eminently possible that in the long run, the strain of revolutionary conservatism that has prevailed on the right since 1980 is outright incompatible with liberal democracy.

Stalemate-and-delay: the future of the Obamacare fight?

The fight over Obamacare is poised to dominate much of President Trump’s first year in office.  Republicans are dead set on following through on years of political attacks against the law.  Democrats are equally adamant about saving President Obama’s signature achievement and the millions insured under it.

The problem is that congressional Republicans look increasingly unprepared to follow through on their rhetoric about replacing the law.  Yet they and the Trump administration is convinced the law is failing.  This leaves the GOP in a real bind.

But there may be a way out.  When it comes to Obamacare, the best outcome for everyone may be a stalemate.

As a basic matter of math, Republicans need Democratic support to replace Obamacare.  They could repeal the law with a bare majority in the Senate, but will need eight Democrats to go against the party and overcome a filibuster to enact a replacement.  Republican leadership, including Trump and House speaker Paul Ryan, has backtracked from the repeal-and-delay misfire, and has since come to promise that repeal and replacement will occur near simultaneously.  That requires Democratic votes.

The core question for Trump and the GOP is how to get them.  Trump believes that he is negotiating from a position of ever-increasing strength.  He thinks the law will crumble on its own, even telling congressional Republicans gathered in Philadelphia that he had thought about “doing nothing [on healthcare] for two years, and the Dems would come begging to do something” after “catastrophic” price increases.  Ryan has the same forecast for the law, repeatedly (and falsely) asserting that Obamacare’s individual marketplaces are in a “death spiral.”

Trump has hinted at this scenario before.  Earlier in January, Trump tweeted that the GOP needed to “be careful” about repealing Obamacare, because Democrats would be to blame when the law “fall[s] under its own weight.”  There is clearly a side of Trump that sees political advantage to continuing to hang Obamacare around the necks of Democrats—a side of him that splits from Republican leadership in Congress on the immediate urgency to erase the law from the books.  By sitting back and waiting, Trump suspects he could get a better deal.

Democrats, on the other hand, are confident that Obamacare is succeeding.  They point to the 20 million people insured under the law and signs that its marketplaces have stabilized.  Democrats are determined to resist GOP repeal efforts, and are increasingly drifting toward a strategy of all-out opposition to Trump across the board.

From the Democrats’ perspective, there’s no reason to disabuse Trump of his notion that Obamacare is a ticking time bomb with their names attached to it.  Suppose Democrats stick together as a uniform bloc in opposition to repeal and replace.  A frustrated Trump might see the Democrats as “ungrateful” for the GOP’s efforts to save them from their supposed healthcare mess.  Trump might then decide to wait until carnage from Obamacare’s “collapse” starts to hit in order to exact a better deal out of desperate Democrats at that time.

For Democrats, this result keeps Obamacare on the books, delaying the repeal fight until a day when Trump may be on even weaker ground in public approval, and a day that is that much closer to the 2018 midterm elections.  At that point, Democrats could spark a wave election to take back the House or Senate, stopping Trump’s agenda altogether.

But stalemate-and-delay makes sense for Republicans, too.  If Trump gets fed up with congressional gridlock over healthcare and with how much of his first year in office the issue has consumed, he may want to shelve repeal—especially if he expects to pin down the Democrats into agreeing to more favorable terms down the road.  But would the repeal-obsessed GOP Congress go along with this?  Almost certainly.  Trump owns the GOP now, and the party will largely do as he says.  If Trump says build a border wall, Ryan asks how high (while writing a $15 billion check, to boot).  There’s no reason to think the party would subvert him if he tired of the Obamacare battle.

Trump and other leaders take the position that even though they could wait and let the law implode on its own, they have a duty to come to the rescue of those suffering under the tyranny of Obamacare.  By postponing the repeal push, Republicans get to blast obstructionist Democrats for perpetuating the hellish suffering inflicted on the American people under Obamacare.

This relocates the Obamacare debate back into the Republicans’ comfort zone.  Republicans are most at ease using healthcare as a political piñata against Democrats.  But now that they have the power to decimate Obamacare, they have no plausible plan to put the piñata back together again.  At the GOP’s Philadelphia retreat this week, one member of Congress said that the party’s leaders have offered “zero specifics” on an Obamacare replacement so far.  A leaked recording of that retreat shows Republican members of Congress ill at ease with the party leadership’s lack of strategy and clarity on healthcare.

So for Republicans in Congress, postponing repeal buys more time to devise a replacement plan, while allowing them to continue to use Obamacare as a political battering ram to rally their base going into the 2018 midterms.  Even though they’ve spent seven years railing against the law, Obamacare repeal is a fight that the GOP is not ready for.  Republicans are animated by political opposition to Obamacare as an avatar for big government liberalism.  But they still aren’t equipped or prepared to translate that political opposition into policy language.  Stalemate-and-delay allows them to reap the benefits of the former while avoiding the embarrassment of the latter.

Conversely, it also avoids Republicans taking ownership over the country’s healthcare system going into those elections—something many in the party are loath to do.  “We’d better be sure that we’re prepared to live with the market we’ve created” with repeal, said Rep. Tom McClintock of California.  “That’s going to be called Trumpcare. Republicans will own that lock, stock and barrel, and we’ll be judged in the election less than two years away.”

There are risks in this gambit for Democrats, but those risks are tolerable.  The key is for Democrats to stick together in total opposition to GOP repeal efforts.  And they will be sticking together to defend a wounded healthcare law—one that the Trump administration will weaken to the fullest extent of its executive authority.  Trump already issued an executive order instructing his administration to relax enforcement of the law “to the maximum extent permitted by law.”  White House adviser Kellyanne Conway even suggested the administration may refuse to enforce the law’s controversial individual mandate.  And Trump also canceled planned advertising for the law’s individual marketplace plans in the final days of open enrollment in an apparent attempt to reduce sign-ups.  These are all attempts to loosen the screws on Obamacare’s three-legged stool.

But these risks were always going to be the case under a Republican administration.  Republican sabotage was inevitable, but it beats wiping the law off the books entirely.

So perhaps Obamacare’s future looks much like its past: a political lightning rod perpetually on the chopping block, but never actually chopped.  Trump can rationalize stalemate-and-delay as standing pat until a later day when he can bend Democrats to his will.  Republicans can keep rallying their base on the promise of repeal were it not for those obstructionist, big government Democrats.  And Democrats can appeal to their base having successfully fought Trump and continuing to stand up to Republicans intent on gutting Obama’s signature achievement.

And that might be Obamacare’s political sweet spot.  Democrats want to save Obamacare, and Republicans need an off-ramp from repeal.  For both parties to win, the solution might just be to stalemate.

The case for federalizing Medicaid

If Donald Trump ever moves on from bickering over the size of his inauguration crowd to actually governing, one of the first orders of business will be churning out a promised “terrific” Obamacare replacement plan. While we don’t yet know the exact details of Trumpcare, Trump adviser Kellyanne Conway confirmed this week that block granting the Medicaid program to the states will be a big part of it.

This isn’t a surprise. Republicans like Speaker Paul Ryan and health secretary nominee Rep. Tom Price have called for kicking Medicaid down to the states for years. Unfortunately, it’s the exact wrong direction we should be going toward.

Medicaid provides health insurance to nearly one hundred million people, including children, pregnant women, nursing home residents, people with disabilities, and low-income Americans. For over fifty years, the program has been managed jointly by the federal government and the states. Washington finances at least half of the program’s costs, and often substantially more in poorer states. Obamacare expanded Medicaid to cover those just above the poverty line, and even offered to pick up the entire tab for the first years of the expansion. Still, nineteen conservative-led states turned down free money, causing a Medicaid “coverage gap” currently ensnaring 2.5 million people that would have otherwise gained insurance.

Conservatives in Washington want to drastically change this arrangement by simply cutting a check to the states and letting them run Medicaid. Conservatives like this idea for a few reasons. For one, a block grant creates more predictable (and lower) costs for the federal government. It gets the federal government off the hook for covering a share of whatever costs program enrollees incur, and instead just subsidizes state Medicaid programs. A block grant transfers most of the commitment of insuring vulnerable populations from the federal government to the states.

The problem, of course, is that this is a barely-concealed way of cutting healthcare funding for the poor. The only way for block grants to save the federal government money is to systematically lowball the amount of the grant. For example, the block grant plan pushed by Price and other House Republicans would slash Medicaid spending by $1 trillion — nearly 25 percent — over the next decade. A similar plan offered by Paul Ryan in 2012 would have caused up to 20 million Americans to lose their coverage.

This leaves it to individual states to pick up the slack, but it’s far from guaranteed that they are willing or able to do so. Medicaid is already one of the costliest expenditures for states, consuming on average nearly 20 percent of their budgets (second only to K-12 education). Making up for a $1 trillion funding gap would be a stretch even during relatively good economic times. But during a recession, block granting would be a disaster. While the federal government can take on debt to finance deficit spending, almost every state is required to keep a balanced budget. When revenues dry up during a downturn, states take an axe to social spending to make up the difference. These cuts inevitably come disproportionately from low-income programs. So the end result of block-granting means Medicaid will get cut to the bone just when more and more people will need it.

Block-grant proponents want to give states more of a role to experiment with Medicaid. But just as some states may seize on new flexibility to experiment upward with better, more generous programs, others will ratchet Medicaid downward by providing stingier benefits. Those nineteen states refusing the federal Medicaid expansion in particular have political cultures deeply hostile to insuring the needy. In Texas, for example, childless adults are ineligible for Medicaid regardless of how poor they are, and even parents are “too rich” for coverage if they earn more than 18 percent of the poverty line — $2,118 a year.

Even though national Republicans package Medicaid block granting as an exercise in states’ rights, it’s not clear how many states want the privilege of taking the primary lead in running Medicaid. Even some Republican governors worry that block grants will reduce the effectiveness of their safety nets. Medicaid block grants could easily follow the pattern of welfare reform — another safety net program devolved to the states during years of economic growth that has since shriveled away due to chronic underfunding.

Instead of block-granting Medicaid to the states, a better course is to do the exact opposite: have the federal government assume full responsibility for Medicaid. This would eliminate harsh state-based eligibility restrictions like in Texas, and would guarantee coverage for all who qualify. Because the federal government can run budget deficits, it is better situated to protect the program during economic downturns. And federalizing Medicaid would relieve the states of a massive fiscal burden, freeing up money for education, infrastructure, tax cuts, and other state projects.

Putting Medicaid entirely in the hands of the federal government may also better tame the program’s costs. As Greg Anrig of the Century Foundations writes, “taking 50 separate state bureaucracies out of the picture would be a meaningful step in the direction of reducing confusion and wastefulness.” Congress and federal agencies would also be better able to experiment with cost-containment strategies without the states in the mix.

Federalizing Medicaid could also yield tax relief for low- and middle-income Americans. While new federal revenues would need to be raised, the states would be free to cut taxes. And because the federal tax code is more progressive than the states’, most of the new financing for Medicaid would come from the wealthy. The net result would likely mean lower taxes for most Americans.

Federalization is not a new idea, nor a partisan one. As Anrig points out, Ronald Reagan proposed federalizing Medicaid in 1982 in exchange for giving the states over other safety net programs. Even earlier, in 1979 Jimmy Carter proposed federalizing Medicaid as part of his health reform pitch.

On the campaign trail, Donald Trump promised that he would not cut Medicaid. That’s a promise he cannot keep while also block-granting the program. Instead of pawning Medicaid off on the states, the federal government should lift it off of their shoulders entirely. That would give the states real flexibility.

Note: This post is cross-posted at Medium.

The awe-inspiring and dispiriting United States of America

It’s a whole new world, and like most everyone else, I didn’t see it coming.  Coming to grips with what Trump’s America looks like and means will take a long, long time.  But my immediate, still-distraught reaction is up at Medium.  The concluding thoughts:

The last eight years have seen a remarkable amount of social progress. Marriage equality became a reality. The century-long quest for health reform came to pass, protecting millions from devastation by illness. We fought off economic catastrophe and have made steady gains ever since. We created millions of jobs and built a thriving renewable energy industry for the twenty-first century from the ground up. We made serious inroads to curtail environmental harm and combat climate change. We took steps to corral a financial sector that helped land the entire economy in peril.

Trump’s election jeopardizes many of these gains. But it does not erase the fact that we are a society capable of producing the achievements of the Obama years.

We have seen figures like Trump before in our politics — people like George Wallace, Strom Thurmond, Jesse Helms, and other poisonous demagogues. Never before have we allowed one to come close to our highest office, let alone win it. That is unprecedented in our history.

But so was electing a black president. This may seem confounding — after all, how could the country that twice elected Barack Obama elect Donald Trump?! But the United States is a baffling and frustrating place — at once both awe-inspiring and deeply dispiriting. Admirable progress over the ills of our history often gives way to reactionary backlash and retrenchment.

We have a long and storied history of taking one giant leap forward, only to follow it up with a gut-wrenching step back. Lincoln’s freeing of the slaves in 1863 and a decade of Southern Reconstruction gave way to nearly a century of Jim Crow, lynching, segregation, and violent white supremacy. The outlawing of segregated schools in 1954 triggered massive resistance to black and white children learning together. The Civil Rights revolution of the 1960s fed Richard Nixon’s silent majority and the ensuing limitations on civil and equal rights. That Barack Obama will now turn the White House over to the birther Donald Trump is tragically in keeping with the rhythms of American history.

Yet we can change these rhythms. Obama likes to quote Martin Luther King’s statement that the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice. Tuesday’s jarring electoral result is a reminder that the moral universe bends only from the dogged persistence and faithful agitation of those refusing to give up the fight. Progress is not guaranteed, and advancement is not simply the natural course. Left alone, the moral universe quickly reverts back toward a darker past. When we ease up, it eases down.

But by fighting on, we hasten the day when our country’s government once again stands for hope, progress, and decency. So don’t look to Canada. Don’t give up on America, and don’t drop out of politics. Despair today. Then rejoin the fight.

Trump, Clinton, and the fate of the economy

As Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump duke it out on the campaign trail, the economy hangs in the balance.  Contrary to Trump’s doom and gloom non-reset speech yesterday, the economy continues to gain steam and add jobs.  But the fate of the recovery may rest on the outcome of the November election.

A team of respected economists at Moody’s Analytics attempted to forecast the economic implications of each presidential candidate’s policy agenda, and the difference couldn’t be more stark.  Put simply, a Clinton presidency would strengthen our economy’s steady growth, while a Trump presidency would be an all-out economic calamity.

Clinton’s policy platform is carefully crafted to build up the economy.  The Moody’s team looked at the suite of Clinton’s major policy proposals, including increased spending on education and infrastructure, higher taxes on the rich, guaranteed paid family leave, and a higher minimum wage.

Moody’s found that if Clinton’s agenda were fully enacted, it would boost economic growth and create 3.2 million new jobs by the end of her first term.  The biggest benefits would flow to low- and middle-income families, and the average household’s after-tax income would rise by some $2,000.

Unemployment would fall as low as 3.7 percent—a level of full employment not seen since 2000.  With a new paid leave program and subsidies for child care, more parents would join the labor force.

These staggering employment figures are all the more remarkable because Moody’s expects Clinton’s new $12 minimum wage to eliminate 650,000 jobs.  This is somewhat controversial, and economists are largely split on how the minimum wage affects employment.  Some think a higher minimum wage makes workers more expensive and costs jobs; others think it gives workers more spending money and grows the economy to generate new jobs.  Regardless, Moody’s still sees a higher minimum wage as a net win for the economy, because the pay raise for low-wage workers substantially outweighs the lost income for those who might lose their jobs.

Importantly, Clinton’s tax plans wouldn’t drag down the economy either, even though she intends to impose new taxes on the rich.  This is because the economy can stomach these kinds of taxes, and so can the wealthy.  “[A]ffluent taxpayers,” the analysts explain, “are much less likely to change their spending behavior due to a tax increase than lower- and middle-income consumers.”  Because individual spending isn’t harmed, taxing the rich doesn’t inhibit economic activity.

All told, Clinton’s economy would build off of the steady growth and 70 months (and counting) of job creation of the Obama economy—the longest streak in American history.

And what of President Trump?  Batten down the hatches and stock up on canned goods.  According to Moody’s, the only thing “great” that Trump will make for America is another Great Recession.

Moody’s found that Trump’s major campaign promises—mass deportations and curtailed immigration; tearing up and rewriting trade deals; and slashing taxes on the rich—would cause economic catastrophe.  “By the end of his presidency, there are close to 3.5 million fewer jobs and the unemployment rate rises to as high as 7%,” Moody’s calculated.  The economy would plunge into recession for two years starting in 2018 and would shrink by 2.4 percent.

It gets worse.  Trump’s agenda would produce no income gains for the typical American family.  Stock prices would plummet, and the federal budget deficit would balloon by an additional $1 trillion.  As Trump rounds up and exiles undocumented immigrants, the economy would struggle from the loss of workers.  Not to mention, Trump’s overt hostility (in both rhetoric and policy) to Mexico and China would spark a retaliatory trade war, costing the United States $85 billion in exports.

A Trump administration would be an abject economic disaster, quickly collapsing the fragile momentum the economy has painstakingly gained since digging out of the last recession.  As Moody’s puts it, under Trump, “the U.S. economy will be more isolated and diminished.”

Now it’s true that this analysis fancifully assumes that either candidate will be able to swiftly enact their entire agenda upon taking office.  This is exceedingly unlikely, as Clinton may find herself stymied by a Republican Congress, and Trump could get bogged down in the courts.

Be that as it may, the White House under President Hillary Clinton would be an active aid to the economy.  Under President Trump, it would be a constant drag and an unprecedented risk.

The economy is perpetually the foremost issue on Americans’ minds.  As they go to the polls in November, voters face an unparalleled choice—a choice between growth or recession, between 3 million new jobs or 3 million lost.  The candidates’ agendas present a vast chasm in economic fortunes for the next four years.  Voters must decide which side they want to be on.

 

Trump and the cult of the job creators

Donald Trump’s back and forth over taxing the rich continues. Shifting by the day, Trump has vacillated between promising to raise taxes on the rich and proposing to cut their taxes. However, his latest pronouncement on the issue (if it sticks) suggests that he’s coming around to the ill-conceived conservative dogma glorifying the rich as the engines of our economy — even though the evidence points toward the middle-class as the real source of growth in the United States.

Trump began his insurgent primary campaign by arguing that taxes on the rich should rise. He bemoaned the under-taxation of financiers, saying, “The hedge fund people make a lot of money and they pay very little tax.” He even claimed to agree that he himself ought to pay more in taxes, saying, “You’ve seen my statements. I do very well. I don’t mind paying a little more in taxes. The middle class is getting clobbered in this country.”

In a reversal, however, he proceeded to roll out a tax plan that offered massive tax cuts to the highest earners. Under his plan, the top tax rate would fall from 39.6 percent to 25 percent. Over the next decade, this would redistribute some $4.4 trillion in lost federal revenue to the top 1 percent of earners, who would reap more than a third of the tax benefits in his plan.

Within days of clinching the GOP nomination, Trump appeared to revert back to his initial tax-the-rich position, saying he is “not necessarily a huge fan” of his own proposal to shower the rich with tax relief. This left some believing that Trump was abandoning his supply-side tax plan to pivot back toward populism in the general election campaign.

Now, Trump seems to have changed course again. When the New York Times asked Trump about taxing the rich at higher rates, Trump responded, “I really want to keep taxes for everybody as low as possible. When you start making them too high, you are going to lose people from the country, and oftentimes these are the people who create the jobs.”

Let’s set aside the extremely dubious notion that rich people are fleeing the United States in droves over a 15 percentage point difference in the top marginal tax rate. What’s more interesting is that Trump is regurgitating the conservative myth of the rich as job creators.

Last week, I sifted through the delusional provocations of Trump’s campaign statements and found that on policy matters, he appeared to be repudiating much of the accepted GOP policy platform. This schism accounts for much of the distance between Trump and establishmentarians like Paul Ryan. “The philosophy underlying the Ryan budget is supply-side faith in the wealthy as job-creating economic generators,” I wrote. “The only job creator that Trump glorifies is himself.”

Now Trump is buying into the job creator myth. The idea that the rich are job creators is a sloganeering summation of conservative supply-side economic philosophy: make life good for the rich, and the gains will reverberate down from their beefed-up wallets to the rest of the country. Treat the ownership class well, the thinking goes, and they will expand the economy and grow new jobs.

To sell this philosophy to the public, conservatives leaned on the job creator framing quite extensively following the Great Recession. With millions unemployed and the financial elite widely reviled, conservatives tied their preexisting economic beliefs to the public’s worry about jobs. In 2011, Paul Ryan blasted President Obama’s proposal to increase the capital gains tax as “class warfare” that “will attack job creators, divide people, and it doesn’t grow the economy.” Before being felled by the Tea Party, then-House Majority Leader Eric Cantor took to Twitter on Labor Day in 2012 not to praise working Americans, but to thank the supposed job creators, saying: “Today, we celebrate those who have taken a risk, worked hard, built a business and earned their own success.”

Meanwhile, liberals were pushing back against the conservative trickle-down prescription for the economy. They called their theory of the economy “middle-out economics,” arguing that the engine for economic prosperity was not the wealthy, but rather the purchasing strength of a broad middle-class.

The liberal theory held that “a prosperous economy revolves not around a tiny number of the very rich but around a great and growing number of middle-class consumers and small businesspeople,” as Nick Hanauer and Eric Liu put it. “Rich businesspeople are not the primary job creators; middle-class customers are. The more the middle class can buy, the more jobs we’ll create.”

Similarly, David Matland of the Center for American Progress argued, “it isn’t the rich that lead the way to growth and prosperity. Instead, it is a thriving and vibrant middle class that shows us the path.” CAP backed up this theory with a compelling review of the research demonstrating that the middle-class is at the heart of American economic growth.

President Obama began espousing this theory, too. “We believe that America’s prosperity must rest upon the broad shoulders of a rising middle class,” he asserted. He explained that “growing inequality isn’t just morally wrong; it’s bad economics. When middle-class families have less to spend, businesses have fewer customers.”

That’s the guts of the theory in a nutshell: that when middle-class families have more disposable income, they will spend that money and grow the economy. When consumers spend more, business does well and employs more workers. This sparks a virtuous cycle of economic growth throughout the income distribution.

As I’ve written, middle-out economics is both good economics and a tried and true prescription for growth in recent American history. Policies that raise the disposable incomes for the poor and middle-class—higher minimum wages; targeted tax cuts; subsidies for health insurance, childcare, and college tuition; greater social insurance protections—are more likely to generate economic growth because average Americans are simply more likely to spend this freed up money than the rich are. Indeed, during the era of prosperity following World War II through the 1970s, the American economy grew on the back of an ascendant middle class.

Middle-out economics has always been a safe bet for American prosperity. The ahistorical alternative offered by conservatives for the past four decades has simply stuffed the pockets of the rich without ever yielding the promised glories of raining growth upon the rest of the country. In fact, the decades of ascendant trickle-down thinking since 1980 correspond with a marked period of sluggish growth and economic stagnation in the United States.

As Trump waffles between tax positions, he’s debating (whether he knows it or not) about whether the source of growth in the United States is the middle-class or the fortunate elite. Trump seems to believe that the key to growth is using public funds to reward the supposed business savvy of himself and those like him. But the evidence suggests that real prosperity grows from the people buying his ties, eating his steaks, and visiting his hotels.

How Trump upends Paul Ryan’s conservative vision

Speaker Paul Ryan made headlines Thursday when he refused to endorse Donald Trump for president.  While Trump has now (remarkably) become the clear presumptive nominee, Ryan is “not there yet.”

Before backing Trump, Ryan wants to be sure that “we have a standard bearer that bears our standards”; someone who embraces the party’s agreed-upon “common platform of conservative principles” and will “take[ ] these conservative principles, appl[y] them to the problems and offers solutions to the country . . . .”  Trump quickly slapped away Ryan’s attempt to flex establishment muscle.  In a three-sentence statement, he countered that he is “not ready to support Speaker Ryan’s agenda.”

The alpha-dog positioning between the GOP’s nominee and its highest-ranking elected official is undoubtedly in part a dispute over Trump’s incendiary rhetoric.  But it’s also about whether Trump can be trusted to stick to accepted conservative policy stances.

Throughout the Obama years, the governing blueprint for conservatism has been the series of budget proposals Ryan crafted as House Ways and Means Chairman.  The details varied slightly from year to year, but the core instincts remained the same: hack away at social programs while slashing taxes for the rich.  He planned to replace Medicare with vouchers to purchase private insurance, and scrap Medicaid for an under-funded block grant to the states.  At one time, his budgets planned to partially privatize Social Security, a long-time conservative aspiration.   While 69 percent of Ryan’s proposed budget cuts would come from low-income programs like food stamps and Pell Grants, he would nonetheless slash tax rates for wealthy from 39 percent to 25 percent, costing nearly $6 trillion over a decade.

For Republican leaders, Ryan’s budget was the path forward.  It would shrink the size of government by converting the key liberal twentieth century social insurance achievements from defined-benefit plans to defined-contribution plans, shifting the costs and risks from government to individual Americans.  And it would unburden the so-called “job creators” of trillions of dollars in pesky taxes.

They just needed a president to turn Ryan’s vision into a reality.  In a 2012 speech at the Conservative Political Action Conference, anti-tax activist Grover Norquist explained, “All we have to do is replace Obama. [. . .] We don’t need a president to tell us in what direction to go. We know what direction to go. We want the Ryan budget. … We just need a president to sign this stuff.”

All that conservatives needed was the signature from a President Jeb Bush or Marco Rubio—candidates who had pledged fealty to Ryan’s budget.  Instead, their only hope for the next four years is Donald J. Trump.

Between his police-state deportation and border plans, unthinking conspiracy mongering, and unrelentingly racist and misogynistic diarrhea of the mouth, it’s easy to lose sight of the shreds of policy ideas lurking in Trump’s campaign.  Some of this is because Trump’s policy positions seem subject to revision and all-out abandonment at any given moment.   But on a few key issues, he has stuck to his guns in a way that is in direct tension with the agenda championed by Ryan and others.

For instance, in 2013, Trump went to CPAC and told conservatives that they could not make any changes to Social Security, Medicare, and Medicaid and still expect to win elections.  In a book two years earlier, he chastised conservatives for dismissing the social contract embedded in these programs, saying, “that’s not an ‘entitlement,’ that’s honoring a deal. We as a society must also make an ironclad commitment to providing a safety net for those who can’t make one for themselves.”

Trump stood by these positions during the primary.  In a debate in Miami, he pledged to “do everything within my power not to touch Social Security, to leave it the way it is.”  He boasted that he was the “first & only potential GOP candidate to state there will be no cuts to Social Security, Medicare & Medicaid.”  He even supported strengthening Medicare by letting it negotiate drug prices.

Because these are all broadly popular programs, there’s little incentive for Trump to change course now.  But each of these positions bucks longstanding conservative goals.  In fact, Trump is already backtracking from his own proposal for a massive tax cut for the wealthy—his one policy plank in line with the Ryan budget.  “I am not necessarily a huge fan of that,” he explains.

Which makes sense.  The philosophy underlying the Ryan budget is supply-side faith in the wealthy as job-creating economic generators.  The only job creator that Trump glorifies is himself.

In a Fox News interview Thursday night, Trump reiterated that he isn’t at all interested in signing on to Ryan’s conception of conservative principles. So for Washington conservatives, Trump’s nomination jeopardizes their carefully crafted vision for reform.  Ryan’s theory of what ails the country is big government stifling and coddling away growth.  Trump’s theory is stupid government getting ripped off at home and abroad.  Only one of these theories seems to have struck a chord with voters.

 

Conservatism’s working class blues

In 2004, Thomas Frank set off a firestorm of debate with his book What’s the Matter with Kansas? He explored the question of why working-class white voters in America’s heartland insisted on supporting conservative candidates, even when such support might cut against their own economic interests. Frank’s answer was that conservatives were duping these voters by raising the salience of social wedge issues like abortion and same-sex marriage.

In the years since Frank’s book became a touchstone in liberal circles, conservatives have consistently blasted Frank’s thesis as a condescending and elitist anthropologic dive in to the Heartland’s psychology. It exposed the “smug superiority on the left,” they said. Even today, they condemn Frank’s narrow vision of what’s good for the working class: “To Frank, the idea that voters might have interests beyond their economic status was unthinkable.”

Regardless of whether one accepted Frank’s theory, he was early detecting a certain angst in the Heartland. The possibly curious voting patterns were simply an indicator that something was awry.

We are now learning that Frank may have had his thumb near the pulse of a deeper crisis than we knew. In November, economists Anne Case and Angus Deaton published a jarring study finding that the mortality rate for middle-aged white Americans had singularly and sharply increased over the last decade and a half. The authors found that “poisonings” and suicides among this population had spiraled to previously unseen heights. People were medicating themselves, abusing opioids, and, increasingly, ending their lives.

Deaton speculated that these Americans had “lost the narrative of their lives — meaning something like a loss of hope, a loss of expectations of progress.” Traditional working class jobs like manufacturing had vanished. Access to economic opportunity with basic education was once the norm, but was now nonexistent. Despair in the heartland and among the working class was producing tangible and terrifying human devastation, the economists found.

At the same time, the Trump phenomenon was sweeping through this very population. Trump was trouncing in the counties with the highest middle-aged white mortality rates. He was winning county after county with the least college diplomas; the most people out of work; and the greatest loss of manufacturing employment. In short, Trump was cleaning up in Case-and-Deaton Country: the places without jobs, education, or hope—the places where people were quite literally dying from despair.

Establishment conservatives, of course, have been tearing their collective hair out over the rise of Trump. They’ve pleaded with voters to see through his con routine and reject his strongman show, marshaling all of the intellectual firepower in their arsenal against Trump’s march to the nomination. Suddenly, there was a test of the allegiance of the conservative elite to the white working-class they had long professed to defend.

So what does the conservative elite think of the communities they used to lionize as “real America” now that they insist on supporting a candidate they loathe? Enter the National Review’s Kevin Williamson:

“The truth about these dysfunctional, downscale communities is that they deserve to die. Economically, they are negative assets. Morally, they are indefensible. Forget all your cheap theatrical Bruce Springsteen crap. Forget your sanctimony about struggling Rust Belt factory towns and your conspiracy theories about the wily Orientals stealing our jobs. Forget your goddamned gypsum, and, if he has a problem with that, forget Ed Burke, too. The white American underclass is in thrall to a vicious, selfish culture whose main products are misery and used heroin needles. Donald Trump’s speeches make them feel good. So does OxyContin. What they need isn’t analgesics, literal or political. They need real opportunity, which means that they need real change, which means that they need U-Haul.”

When the Twittersphere collectively gasped in horror at Williamson’s denunciation, the National Review only doubled down, sneering at the “self-destructive moral failures” of “millions of Americans [that] aren’t doing their best. Indeed, they’re barely trying. [. . .] Simply put, Americans are killing themselves and destroying their families at an alarming rate. No one is making them do it. The economy isn’t putting a bottle in their hand. Immigrants aren’t making them cheat on their wives or snort OxyContin. Obama isn’t walking them into the lawyer’s office to force them to file a bogus disability claim.”

Paul Krugman rightly connects this sentiment to Mitt Romney’s contempt for the 47 percent of Americans who make too little to owe federal income taxes, and to Speaker Paul Ryan’s critique of our social safety net as a coddling “hammock that lulls able-bodied people to lives of dependency and complacency.” “Stripped down to its essence,” Krugman concludes, “the G.O.P. elite view is that working-class America faces a crisis, not of opportunity, but of values.”

Simply put, this is the go-to conservative diagnosis of widespread crisis among those caught in the lower rungs of the social ladder. When evaluating (predominantly black) urban poverty, Ryan once warned that “[w]e have got this tailspin of culture, in our inner cities in particular, of men not working and just generations of men not even thinking about working or learning the value and the culture of work.” And when assessing what ails the unemployed, former Speaker John Boehner said the jobless would “rather just sit around” and coast off of public benefits.

Conservatives have been tsk-tsk’ing the morals of the urban poor and the jobless for years. Never mind that disability rolls have swelled in close correlation to the exodus of blue-collar jobs. Never mind that slashing unemployment benefits does nothing to aid the job search process. And never mind that the supposed cultural rot conservatives detect in poor African-American communities can overwhelmingly be traced to pervasive systemic disadvantage. When a community is in need, conservatives can almost always find a moral failing lurking close behind.

Yet this begs the fundamental question of whether a community’s moral anguish is the cause or the effect of its suffering. To Williamson and others, the white working class has “lost the narrative of their lives” because they picked up heroin needles, crushed OxyContin, and pulled one over on the Social Security office. End of story.

But under a more sympathetic—and, to my mind, more compelling—view of these communities, something has caused them to lose the narrative of their lives, and in response, they have stood numb as work disappeared, have resorted to disability checks just to make ends meet, and have increasingly succumbed to drug abuse or worse. The sky-high rate of poisonings, the futile search for meaningful work, and the alarming frequency of self-inflicted harm are indicators of a deeper existential crisis—a loss of self-value from far-reaching systemic upheaval. The dispiriting data uncovered by Case and Deaton are the symptoms, not the underlying disease.

What Case and Deaton want to discover—and what liberal policymakers want to fix—is that something: the root cause of this despair and these unmoored bearings. It’s undoubtedly too late to return to the ‘60s and on-shore a vast and job-intensive well-paying manufacturing sector. But if nothing else, we can craft a modern social insurance system to match the volatility and realities of 21st century capitalism. Indeed, if we want to reap the tremendous gains of such an economy, we have a moral obligation to cushion those whom it inevitably fails.

But if the determinative moral failing is the individual’s (or the community’s), then conservatives can rest easy while doing little to remedy the plight. And that’s the causation they’ve largely chosen: the cause of a community’s pathology is the community’s insistence on being pathologic. The fix is for the community to simply stop acting in pathologic ways.

It’s a diagnosis that confers agency and abhors dependency, it’s claimed. But how convenient that this theory of what ails the working class so neatly fits within the contours of the laissez-faire free-marketeering predisposition of conservatism. It’s a theory that lets conservatism wash its hands of the struggle of the dispossessed. Why alleviate hardship when you can moralize as it festers?

Conservatism has long claimed to defend the working class and the rural heartland from the snobbery of self-styled liberal elites. Now we know that these communities are suffering immensely in the twenty-first century. And the suffering has grown so acute that these communities have latched on in great numbers to a duplicitous and vulgar anti-politician who gives uninhibited voice to their rage and sense of past greatness lost.

Rather than defend these communities, some conservatives are turning their fire on them. “They deserve to die,” Williamson snorts. Which suggests that Frank was onto something all along. The white working class believed that conservatism had its back. But if there was ever any doubt, now it’s becoming clear: when times grow tough, too often the first instinct of conservatism is to cast judgment rather than to extend a helping hand.