roodepolitics

Wednesday, February 23, 2005

poem

Last-Minute Message for a Time Capsule," by Philip Appleman from New and Selected Poems, 1956-1996 (University of Arkansas Press).

Last-Minute Message For a Time Capsule

I have to tell you this, whoever you are:
that on one summer morning here, the ocean
pounded in on tumbledown breakers,
a south wind, bustling along the shore,
whipped the froth into little rainbows,
and a reckless gull swept down the beach
as if to fly were everything it needed.
I thought of your hovering saucers,
looking for clues, and I wanted to write this down,
so it wouldn't be lost forever -
that once upon a time we had
meadows here, and astonishing things,
swans and frogs and luna moths
and blue skies that could stagger your heart.
We could have had them still,
and welcomed you to earth, but
we also had the righteous ones
who worshipped the True Faith, and Holy War.
When you go home to your shining galaxy,
say that what you learned
from this dead and barren place is

Australian scientists report that the Coral Reefs will be dead in 30 years cause of global warming. Get rich quick so you can fly down and see them?
or maybe buy an FUV?
Why are "they" so irritated?

Tuesday, February 01, 2005

global inequality

Global (In)equality

An iconoclast takes down neoclassical economics from the inside

Naming the System: Inequality and Work in the Global Economy
by Michael D. Yates
Monthly Review Press, 288 pp, $16.95
reviewed by
Kanishk Tharoor

After deciding to hold early elections in April, India's then-ruling party, the Bharatiya Janta Party, received a rude shock. The BJP was voted out of power even when the party could boast of remarkable economic growth and impressive financial vital signs. In the run-up to the spring elections, the BJP conjured an image of an "India Shining," striding towards the Promised Land of greater market liberalization and privatization. Yet the election's unexpected result sounded the hollow ring of the BJP message, revealing the inadequacies of economic neoliberalism in India since the country opened its markets in 1991.

While globalization proponent Thomas Friedman explained the BJP loss in terms of inefficient "bad governance," others argued it was the opposition of India's poor that toppled the BJP government. Its free market reforms had only enriched certain sectors of the population. Far from improving the condition of India's numerous impoverished citizens, globalization had worsened their plight, accentuating financial discrepancies and distancing the middle and upper classes even further from the country's poorest. As labour analyst Michael D. Yates claims in his latest work of political economy Naming the System: Inequality and Work in the Global Economy, "India… is the world's largest democracy. Unfortunately, it is a democracy of misery." Many interpreted the Indian vote as one not simply against the BJP, but against the prevailing global economic order, making the domestic election yet another chapter in the debate over globalization.

Yates also notes how unrest in South America-particularly Argentina and Bolivia-and elsewhere in the last five years has increasingly brought into question the consequences of economic globalization, the role of international agencies like the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and the World Bank, and the policies of the wealthiest nations in the world, especially the United States. The famous protests of 1999 witnessed against the World Trade Organisation (WTO) in Seattle have since been repeated all across the world. But dissatisfaction with globalization is not limited to popular demonstrations or groups like the World Social Forum: the realms of hodge-podge activist coalitions and vociferous idealists.

Economists who formerly supported the expansion of free market policies have begun critiquing the very process they once advocated. Joseph Stiglitz, former senior vice president of the World Bank, attacks the World Bank, the IMF and the WTO in his well-known study Globalization and Its Discontents. Others like Nobel Prize-winner Amartya Sen have questioned the current trajectories and trends of globalization, emphasising the importance of education, healthcare, and social "welfare" in tandem with or even before market reforms. More and more economists seem to have long since cast aside their rosy glasses when examining globalization.

None of these critiques, however, satisfies Michael Yates, associate editor of the magazine Monthly Review. Nothing less than a dismantling of both the established global capitalist system and the academy's economist establishment is in order. Writer of Longer Hours, Fewer Jobs and Why Unions Matter, Yates enlarges his focus in Naming the System from the immediate struggle of workers to include a sweeping, macro-level analysis of globalization and the ideology of "neoclassical economics." Since the collapse of the Soviet Union, principles of neoclassical economics have driven what he claims are the misguided and ultimately exploitative policies of free market reformers all over the world. By opening up their economies, "poor countries" like India have only succeeded in fostering greater inequality, unemployment, and poverty.

More countries than India suffer such bleak circumstances. Using predominantly World Bank and UN statistics, Yates paints a picture of pervasive inequality and suffering of Dickensian proportions. Half of the world's population survives on less than two dollars a day. The richest one percent of the world receives as much income as the poorest 57 percent. Over one billion people in the world labour force are unemployed or underemployed. The funds generated by a tax of 4 percent on the world's 225 richest individuals would provide adequate healthcare, food, clean water, and safe sewers for every person on the planet.

As startling as some of these figures may be, it is difficult for anyone today to remain completely unaware of global wealth discrepancies, or of those wealth discrepancies within one's communities (Yale and New Haven's relationship comes immediately to mind). Thanks to the plethora of advertised charity groups and a media that readily broadcasts images of foreign poverty, every TV-watching Joe has at the very least seen shots of Brazilian shanty towns, distended brown stomachs, and sweatshop workers in overseas Nike factories. Yates' statistical exhibition of hardship doesn't intend to surprise the reader, but instead, reinforces the stark and uncompromising nature of his critique.

Though he attacks the contemporary economic status quo, Yates chooses a narrative familiar to those embroiled in the debate around globalization. His self-avowed "radical" perspective seems to stray little from the beaten path of left-wing protesters and the orthodoxy of leftist dissent around the world. According to Yates, the planet can be divided between "rich countries" (the usual Western suspects as well as Japan and Singapore) and "poor countries," or, in other words, everybody else. He argues that membership in either half of the dichotomy can in general be traced to histories of European and American imperialism. Substitute "colonizer" for "rich" and "colonized" for "poor" and global inequality makes sense.

Colonialism, in Yates' schema, is not merely a past experience, but a defining and ongoing relationship between the developed and developing world, the North and the South (four popular terms that he studiously ignores). The current period of unprecedented free market expansion follows a pattern of economic domination of the rich over the poor. Thus the construction of American-owned maquiladora sweatshop-like factories on the Mexican border or the coercion of an African country to shred its agricultural tariffs fit into a seemingly endless pattern of predominantly Western elites fleecing the poor of the world, with precious little variation.

As clearly delineated and polarised as Yates' worldview may be, Naming the System doesn't replace substance with ideological invective. Grounded in the methodical, mathematical language and perspective of an economist, Yates details both the conditions of the poor and the policies that keep them poor. His writing is accessible and relentlessly unorthodox. Contrary to conventional economic thought, free market reforms have rarely empowered or enriched the majority of a country. The average sweatshop labourer-whether in Mexico, Indonesia, or even New York City (there are at least ten thousand sweatshop workers in the city)-don't earn enough to provide even the most basic standard of living for themselves. Wage growth in the past decade has slowed considerably all over the world. The vast majority of workers in poor countries still struggle in unskilled professions, belying the significance of the outsourcing of hi-tech jobs. Instead, the supposed economic boom of the last decade has witnessed the dramatic rise of "informal employment," a sector which encompasses various types of work from child labour to prostitution. With a mountain of statistics and thorough documentation, Yates argues that the perpetuation and accentuation of gross inequality (within and between nations) is inherent to the functioning of capitalism.

Though Naming the System smacks of unapologetic old school Marxism, the study remains important in a time when those critical of globalization are often dismissed out of hand by the mainstream. Yates makes a serious and legitimate case against the current shape of free market expansion. He writes not from a lofty idealist cloud but as an economist very aware of the abnormality of his perspective within his discipline. Indeed, the academy is as much a target of his scorn as are voracious multinational corporations, American monetary policies, or nefarious stock market speculators.
Yates takes on what he calls "neoclassical economics," an approach that arose a century ago in Western Europe, much in reaction to the growth of labour movements and the works of Karl Marx and Frederick Engels, but still holds sway over the academic roost today. Though he distinguishes between the "libertarian neoclassical" (the dominant perspective of the last thirty years, particularly since the collapse of the Soviet Union) and "liberal neoclassical" (the branch inspired in great part by the work of John Maynard Keynes, for whom Yates expresses deep respect) halves of the academy, he is fundamentally dismissive of the entire field.

Chief in his objection is the importance neoclassical economics attributes to the individual. Neoclassical economics posits the individual at its most basic level of analysis, assuming that individuals are entirely free to make economic choices (thus unemployment can even be understood as a "choice"). Taken to its logical inference, this strain of thought models individuals as springing from some kind of tabula rasa. Unfortunately, the world is not so tidy. People function under many societal constraints, and such larger structural forces often govern or influence their actions. Yates insists that economics must grow to include an understanding of the reality of social context in the lives of all "individuals."

Through literally naming the system, Yates engineers a refreshing shift. He demystifies capitalism, calling into question the "magic of market forces" and the myth of trickle-down, and looks beyond often misleading abstract indexes and statistics. He refocuses an analytical economic lens on the struggles of people. Yates reminds us that though neoliberalism may have won the day and that vast discrepancies of wealth divide the world, there are cracks even in capitalism's walls.

Sunday, January 30, 2005

Baghdad: Year Zero - Naomi Klein

Baghdad: Year Zero
******************

by Naomi Klein
Harpers - Sept 24, 2004
http://harpers.org/BaghdadYearZero.html

It was only after I had been in Baghdad for a month
that I found what I was looking for. I had traveled to
Iraq a year after the war began, at the height of what
should have been a construction boom, but after weeks
of searching I had not seen a single piece of heavy
machinery apart from tanks and humvees. Then I saw it:
a construction crane. It was big and yellow and
impressive, and when I caught a glimpse of it around a
corner in a busy shopping district I thought that I was
finally about to witness some of the reconstruction I
had heard so much about. But as I got closer I noticed
that the crane was not actually rebuilding anything --
not one of the bombed-out government buildings that
still lay in rubble all over the city, nor one of the
many power lines that remained in twisted heaps even as
the heat of summer was starting to bear down. No, the
crane was hoisting a giant billboard to the top of a
three-story building. SUNBULAH: HONEY 100% NATURAL,
made in Saudi Arabia.

Seeing the sign, I couldn't help but think about
something Senator John McCain had said back in October.
Iraq, he said, is "a huge pot of honey that's
attracting a lot of flies." The flies McCain was
referring to were the Halliburtons and Bechtels, as
well as the venture capitalists who flocked to Iraq in
the path cleared by Bradley Fighting Vehicles and
laser-guided bombs. The honey that drew them was not
just no-bid contracts and Iraq's famed oil wealth but
the myriad investment opportunities offered by a
country that had just been cracked wide open after
decades of being sealed off, first by the nationalist
economic policies of Saddam Hussein, then by
asphyxiating United Nations sanctions.

Looking at the honey billboard, I was also reminded of
the most common explanation for what has gone wrong in
Iraq, a complaint echoed by everyone from John Kerry to
Pat Buchanan: Iraq is mired in blood and deprivation
because George W. Bush didn't have "a postwar plan."
The only problem with this theory is that it isn't
true. The Bush Administration did have a plan for what
it would do after the war; put simply, it was to lay
out as much honey as possible, then sit back and wait
for the flies.

* * *

The honey theory of Iraqi reconstruction stems from the
most cherished belief of the war's ideological
architects: that greed is good. Not good just for them
and their friends but good for humanity, and certainly
good for Iraqis. Greed creates profit, which creates
growth, which creates jobs and products and services
and everything else anyone could possibly need or want.
The role of good government, then, is to create the
optimal conditions for corporations to pursue their
bottomless greed, so that they in turn can meet the
needs of the society. The problem is that governments,
even neoconservative governments, rarely get the chance
to prove their sacred theory right: despite their
enormous ideological advances, even George Bush's
Republicans are, in their own minds, perennially
sabotaged by meddling Democrats, intractable unions,
and alarmist environmentalists.

Iraq was going to change all that. In one place on
Earth, the theory would finally be put into practice in
its most perfect and uncompromised form. A country of
25 million would not be rebuilt as it was before the
war; it would be erased, disappeared. In its place
would spring forth a gleaming showroom for laissez-
faire economics, a utopia such as the world had never
seen. Every policy that liberates multinational
corporations to pursue their quest for profit would be
put into place: a shrunken state, a flexible workforce,
open borders, minimal taxes, no tariffs, no ownership
restrictions. The people of Iraq would, of course, have
to endure some short-term pain: assets, previously
owned by the state, would have to be given up to create
new opportunities for growth and investment. Jobs would
have to be lost and, as foreign products flooded across
the border, local businesses and family farms would,
unfortunately, be unable to compete. But to the authors
of this plan, these would be small prices to pay for
the economic boom that would surely explode once the
proper conditions were in place, a boom so powerful the
country would practically rebuild itself.

The fact that the boom never came and Iraq continues to
tremble under explosions of a very different sort
should never be blamed on the absence of a plan.
Rather, the blame rests with the plan itself, and the
extraordinarily violent ideology upon which it is
based.

* * *

Torturers believe that when electrical shocks are
applied to various parts of the body simultaneously
subjects are rendered so confused about where the pain
is coming from that they become incapable of
resistance. A declassified CIA "Counterintelligence
Interrogation" manual from 1963 describes how a trauma
inflicted on prisoners opens up "an interval -- which
may be extremely brief -- of suspended animation, a
kind of psychological shock or paralysis. . . . [A]t
this moment the source is far more open to suggestion,
far likelier to comply." A similar theory applies to
economic shock therapy, or "shock treatment," the ugly
term used to describe the rapid implementation of free-
market reforms imposed on Chile in the wake of General
Augusto Pinochet's coup. The theory is that if painful
economic "adjustments" are brought in rapidly and in
the aftermath of a seismic social disruption like a
war, a coup, or a government collapse, the population
will be so stunned, and so preoccupied with the daily
pressures of survival, that it too will go into
suspended animation, unable to resist. As Pinochet's
finance minister, Admiral Lorenzo Gotuzzo, declared,
"The dog's tail must be cut off in one chop."

That, in essence, was the working thesis in Iraq, and
in keeping with the belief that private companies are
more suited than governments for virtually every task,
the White House decided to privatize the task of
privatizing Iraq's state-dominated economy. Two months
before the war began, USAID began drafting a work
order, to be handed out to a private company, to
oversee Iraq's "transition to a sustainable market-
driven economic system." The document states that the
winning company (which turned out to be the KPMG
offshoot Bearing Point) will take "appropriate
advantage of the unique opportunity for rapid progress
in this area presented by the current configuration of
political circumstances." Which is precisely what
happened.

L. Paul Bremer, who led the U.S. occupation of Iraq
from May 2, 2003, until he caught an early flight out
of Baghdad on June 28, admits that when he arrived,
"Baghdad was on fire, literally, as I drove in from the
airport." But before the fires from the "shock and awe"
military onslaught were even extinguished, Bremer
unleashed his shock therapy, pushing through more
wrenching changes in one sweltering summer than the
International Monetary Fund has managed to enact over
three decades in Latin America. Joseph Stiglitz, Nobel
laureate and former chief economist at the World Bank,
describes Bremer's reforms as "an even more radical
form of shock therapy than pursued in the former Soviet
world."

The tone of Bremer's tenure was set with his first
major act on the job: he fired 500,000 state workers,
most of them soldiers, but also doctors, nurses,
teachers, publishers, and printers. Next, he flung open
the country's borders to absolutely unrestricted
imports: no tariffs, no duties, no inspections, no
taxes. Iraq, Bremer declared two weeks after he
arrived, was "open for business."

One month later, Bremer unveiled the centerpiece of his
reforms. Before the invasion, Iraq's non-oil-related
economy had been dominated by 200 state-owned
companies, which produced everything from cement to
paper to washing machines. In June, Bremer flew to an
economic summit in Jordan and announced that these
firms would be privatized immediately. "Getting
inefficient state enterprises into private hands," he
said, "is essential for Iraq's economic recovery." It
would be the largest state liquidation sale since the
collapse of the Soviet Union.

But Bremer's economic engineering had only just begun.
In September, to entice foreign investors to come to
Iraq, he enacted a radical set of laws unprecedented in
their generosity to multinational corporations. There
was Order 37, which lowered Iraq's corporate tax rate
from roughly 40 percent to a flat 15 percent. There was
Order 39, which allowed foreign companies to own 100
percent of Iraqi assets outside of the natural-resource
sector. Even better, investors could take 100 percent
of the profits they made in Iraq out of the country;
they would not be required to reinvest and they would
not be taxed. Under Order 39, they could sign leases
and contracts that would last for forty years. Order 40
welcomed foreign banks to Iraq under the same favorable
terms. All that remained of Saddam Hussein's economic
policies was a law restricting trade unions and
collective bargaining.

If these policies sound familiar, it's because they are
the same ones multinationals around the world lobby for
from national governments and in international trade
agreements. But while these reforms are only ever
enacted in part, or in fits and starts, Bremer
delivered them all, all at once. Overnight, Iraq went
from being the most isolated country in the world to
being, on paper, its widest-open market.

* * *

At first, the shock-therapy theory seemed to hold:
Iraqis, reeling from violence both military and
economic, were far too busy staying alive to mount a
political response to Bremer's campaign. Worrying about
the privatization of the sewage system was an
unimaginable luxury with half the population lacking
access to clean drinking water; the debate over the
flat tax would have to wait until the lights were back
on. Even in the international press, Bremer's new laws,
though radical, were easily upstaged by more dramatic
news of political chaos and rising crime.

Some people were paying attention, of course. That
autumn was awash in "rebuilding Iraq" trade shows, in
Washington, London, Madrid, and Amman. The Economist
described Iraq under Bremer as "a capitalist dream,"
and a flurry of new consulting firms were launched
promising to help companies get access to the Iraqi
market, their boards of directors stacked with well-
connected Republicans. The most prominent was New
Bridge Strategies, started by Joe Allbaugh, former
Bush-Cheney campaign manager. "Getting the rights to
distribute Procter & Gamble products can be a gold
mine," one of the company's partners enthused. "One
well-stocked 7-Eleven could knock out thirty Iraqi
stores; a Wal-Mart could take over the country."

Soon there were rumors that a McDonald's would be
opening up in downtown Baghdad, funding was almost in
place for a Starwood luxury hotel, and General Motors
was planning to build an auto plant. On the financial
side, HSBC would have branches all over the country,
Citigroup was preparing to offer substantial loans
guaranteed against future sales of Iraqi oil, and the
bell was going to ring on a New York-style stock
exchange in Baghdad any day.

In only a few months, the postwar plan to turn Iraq
into a laboratory for the neocons had been realized.
Leo Strauss may have provided the intellectual
framework for invading Iraq preemptively, but it was
that other University of Chicago professor, Milton
Friedman, author of the anti-government manifesto
Capitalism and Freedom, who supplied the manual for
what to do once the country was safely in America's
hands. This represented an enormous victory for the
most ideological wing of the Bush Administration. But
it was also something more: the culmination of two
interlinked power struggles, one among Iraqi exiles
advising the White House on its postwar strategy, the
other within the White House itself.

* * *

As the British historian Dilip Hiro has shown, in
"Secrets and Lies: Operation 'Iraqi Freedom' and
After," the Iraqi exiles pushing for the invasion were
divided, broadly, into two camps. On one side were "the
pragmatists," who favored getting rid of Saddam and his
immediate entourage, securing access to oil, and slowly
introducing free-market reforms. Many of these exiles
were part of the State Department's Future of Iraq
Project, which generated a thirteen-volume report on
how to restore basic services and transition to
democracy after the war. On the other side was the
"Year Zero" camp, those who believed that Iraq was so
contaminated that it needed to be rubbed out and remade
from scratch. The prime advocate of the pragmatic
approach was Iyad Allawi, a former high-level Baathist
who fell out with Saddam and started working for the
CIA. The prime advocate of the Year Zero approach was
Ahmad Chalabi, whose hatred of the Iraqi state for
expropriating his family's assets during the 1958
revolution ran so deep he longed to see the entire
country burned to the ground -- everything, that is,
but the Oil Ministry, which would be the nucleus of the
new Iraq, the cluster of cells from which an entire
nation would grow. He called this process "de-
Baathification."

A parallel battle between pragmatists and true
believers was being waged within the Bush
Administration. The pragmatists were men like Secretary
of State Colin Powell and General Jay Garner, the first
U.S. envoy to postwar Iraq. General Garner's plan was
straightforward enough: fix the infrastructure, hold
quick and dirty elections, leave the shock therapy to
the International Monetary Fund, and concentrate on
securing U.S. military bases on the model of the
Philippines. "I think we should look right now at Iraq
as our coaling station in the Middle East," he told the
BBC. He also paraphrased T. E. Lawrence, saying, "It's
better for them to do it imperfectly than for us to do
it for them perfectly." On the other side was the usual
cast of neoconservatives: Vice President Dick Cheney,
Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld (who lauded
Bremer's "sweeping reforms" as "some of the most
enlightened and inviting tax and investment laws in the
free world"), Deputy Secretary of Defense Paul
Wolfowitz, and, perhaps most centrally, Undersecretary
of Defense Douglas Feith. Whereas the State Department
had its Future of Iraq report, the neocons had USAID's
contract with Bearing Point to remake Iraq's economy:
in 108 pages, "privatization" was mentioned no fewer
than fifty-one times. To the true believers in the
White House, General Garner's plans for postwar Iraq
seemed hopelessly unambitious. Why settle for a mere
coaling station when you can have a model free market?
Why settle for the Philippines when you can have a
beacon unto the world?

The Iraqi Year Zeroists made natural allies for the
White House neoconservatives: Chalabi's seething hatred
of the Baathist state fit nicely with the neocons'
hatred of the state in general, and the two agendas
effortlessly merged. Together, they came to imagine the
invasion of Iraq as a kind of Rapture: where the rest
of the world saw death, they saw birth -- a country
redeemed through violence, cleansed by fire. Iraq
wasn't being destroyed by cruise missiles, cluster
bombs, chaos, and looting; it was being born again.
April 9, 2003, the day Baghdad fell, was Day One of
Year Zero.

While the war was being waged, it still wasn't clear
whether the pragmatists or the Year Zeroists would be
handed control over occupied Iraq. But the speed with
which the nation was conquered dramatically increased
the neocons' political capital, since they had been
predicting a "cakewalk" all along. Eight days after
George Bush landed on that aircraft carrier under a
banner that said MISSION ACCOMPLISHED, the President
publicly signed on to the neocons' vision for Iraq to
become a model corporate state that would open up the
entire region. On May 9, Bush proposed the
"establishment of a U.S.-Middle East free trade area
within a decade"; three days later, Bush sent Paul
Bremer to Baghdad to replace Jay Garner, who had been
on the job for only three weeks. The message was
unequivocal: the pragmatists had lost; Iraq would
belong to the believers.

A Reagan-era diplomat turned entrepreneur, Bremer had
recently proven his ability to transform rubble into
gold by waiting exactly one month after the September
11 attacks to launch Crisis Consulting Practice, a
security company selling "terrorism risk insurance" to
multinationals. Bremer had two lieutenants on the
economic front: Thomas Foley and Michael Fleischer, the
heads of "private sector development" for the Coalition
Provisional Authority (CPA). Foley is a Greenwich,
Connecticut, multimillionaire, a longtime friend of the
Bush family and a Bush-Cheney campaign "pioneer" who
has described Iraq as a modern California "gold rush."
Fleischer, a venture capitalist, is the brother of
former White House spokesman Ari Fleischer. Neither man
had any high-level diplomatic experience and both use
the term corporate "turnaround" specialist to describe
what they do. According to Foley, this uniquely
qualified them to manage Iraq's economy because it was
"the mother of all turnarounds."

Many of the other CPA postings were equally
ideological. The Green Zone, the city within a city
that houses the occupation headquarters in Saddam's
former palace, was filled with Young Republicans
straight out of the Heritage Foundation, all of them
given responsibility they could never have dreamed of
receiving at home. Jay Hallen, a twenty-four-year-old
who had applied for a job at the White House, was put
in charge of launching Baghdad's new stock exchange.
Scott Erwin, a twenty-one-year-old former intern to
Dick Cheney, reported in an email home that "I am
assisting Iraqis in the management of finances and
budgeting for the domestic security forces." The
college senior's favorite job before this one? "My time
as an ice-cream truck driver." In those early days, the
Green Zone felt a bit like the Peace Corps, for people
who think the Peace Corps is a communist plot. It was a
chance to sleep on cots, wear army boots, and cry
"incoming" -- all while being guarded around the clock
by real soldiers.

The teams of KPMG accountants, investment bankers,
think-tank lifers, and Young Republicans that populate
the Green Zone have much in common with the IMF
missions that rearrange the economies of developing
countries from the presidential suites of Sheraton
hotels the world over. Except for one rather
significant difference: in Iraq they were not
negotiating with the government to accept their
"structural adjustments" in exchange for a loan; they
were the government.

Some small steps were taken, however, to bring Iraq's
U.S.-appointed politicians inside. Yegor Gaidar, the
mastermind of Russia's mid-nineties privatization
auction that gave away the country's assets to the
reigning oligarchs, was invited to share his wisdom at
a conference in Baghdad. Marek Belka, who as finance
minister oversaw the same process in Poland, was
brought in as well. The Iraqis who proved most gifted
at mouthing the neocon lines were selected to act as
what USAID calls local "policy champions" -- men like
Ahmad al Mukhtar, who told me of his countrymen, "They
are lazy. The Iraqis by nature, they are very
dependent. . . . They will have to depend on
themselves, it is the only way to survive in the world
today." Although he has no economics background and his
last job was reading the English-language news on
television, al Mukhtar was appointed director of
foreign relations in the Ministry of Trade and is
leading the charge for Iraq to join the World Trade
Organization.

* * *

I had been following the economic front of the war for
almost a year before I decided to go to Iraq. I
attended the "Rebuilding Iraq" trade shows, studied
Bremer's tax and investment laws, met with contractors
at their home offices in the United States, interviewed
the government officials in Washington who are making
the policies. But as I prepared to travel to Iraq in
March to see this experiment in free-market utopianism
up close, it was becoming increasingly clear that all
was not going according to plan. Bremer had been
working on the theory that if you build a corporate
utopia the corporations will come -- but where were
they? American multinationals were happy to accept U.S.
taxpayer dollars to reconstruct the phone or
electricity systems, but they weren't sinking their own
money into Iraq. There was, as yet, no McDonald's or
Wal-Mart in Baghdad, and even the sales of state
factories, announced so confidently nine months
earlier, had not materialized.

Some of the holdup had to do with the physical risks of
doing business in Iraq. But there were other more
significant risks as well. When Paul Bremer shredded
Iraq's Baathist constitution and replaced it with what
The Economist greeted approvingly as "the wish list of
foreign investors," there was one small detail he
failed to mention: It was all completely illegal. The
CPA derived its legal authority from United Nations
Security Council Resolution 1483, passed in May 2003,
which recognized the United States and Britain as
Iraq's legitimate occupiers. It was this resolution
that empowered Bremer to unilaterally make laws in
Iraq. But the resolution also stated that the U.S. and
Britain must "comply fully with their obligations under
international law including in particular the Geneva
Conventions of 1949 and the Hague Regulations of 1907."
Both conventions were born as an attempt to curtail the
unfortunate historical tendency among occupying powers
to rewrite the rules so that they can economically
strip the nations they control. With this in mind, the
conventions stipulate that an occupier must abide by a
country's existing laws unless "absolutely prevented"
from doing so. They also state that an occupier does
not own the "public buildings, real estate, forests and
agricultural assets" of the country it is occupying but
is rather their "administrator" and custodian, keeping
them secure until sovereignty is reestablished. This
was the true threat to the Year Zero plan: since
America didn't own Iraq's assets, it could not legally
sell them, which meant that after the occupation ended,
an Iraqi government could come to power and decide that
it wanted to keep the state companies in public hands,
or, as is the norm in the Gulf region, to bar foreign
firms from owning 100 percent of national assets. If
that happened, investments made under Bremer's rules
could be expropriated, leaving firms with no recourse
because their investments had violated international
law from the outset.

By November, trade lawyers started to advise their
corporate clients not to go into Iraq just yet, that it
would be better to wait until after the transition.
Insurance companies were so spooked that not a single
one of the big firms would insure investors for
"political risk," that high-stakes area of insurance
law that protects companies against foreign governments
turning nationalist or socialist and expropriating
their investments.

Even the U.S.-appointed Iraqi politicians, up to now so
obedient, were getting nervous about their own
political futures if they went along with the
privatization plans. Communications Minister Haider al-
Abadi told me about his first meeting with Bremer."I
said, 'Look, we don't have the mandate to sell any of
this. Privatization is a big thing. We have to wait
until there is an Iraqi government.'" Minister of
Industry Mohamad Tofiq was even more direct: "I am not
going to do something that is not legal, so that's it."

Both al-Abadi and Tofiq told me about a meeting --
never reported in the press -- that took place in late
October 2003. At that gathering the twenty-five members
of Iraq's Governing Council as well as the twenty-five
interim ministers decided unanimously that they would
not participate in the privatization of Iraq's state-
owned companies or of its publicly owned
infrastructure.

But Bremer didn't give up. International law prohibits
occupiers from selling state assets themselves, but it
doesn't say anything about the puppet governments they
appoint. Originally, Bremer had pledged to hand over
power to a directly elected Iraqi government, but in
early November he went to Washington for a private
meeting with President Bush and came back with a Plan
B. On June 30 the occupation would officially end --
but not really. It would be replaced by an appointed
government, chosen by Washington. This government would
not be bound by the international laws preventing
occupiers from selling off state assets, but it would
be bound by an "interim constitution," a document that
would protect Bremer's investment and privatization
laws.

The plan was risky. Bremer's June 30 deadline was
awfully close, and it was chosen for a less than ideal
reason: so that President Bush could trumpet the end of
Iraq's occupation on the campaign trail. If everything
went according to plan, Bremer would succeed in forcing
a "sovereign" Iraqi government to carry out his illegal
reforms. But if something went wrong, he would have to
go ahead with the June 30 handover anyway because by
then Karl Rove, and not Dick Cheney or Donald Rumsfeld,
would be calling the shots. And if it came down to a
choice between ideology in Iraq and the electability of
George W. Bush, everyone knew which would win.

* * *

At first, Plan B seemed to be right on track. Bremer
persuaded the Iraqi Governing Council to agree to
everything: the new timetable, the interim government,
and the interim constitution. He even managed to slip
into the constitution a completely overlooked clause,
Article 26. It stated that for the duration of the
interim government, "The laws, regulations, orders and
directives issued by the Coalition Provisional
Authority . . . shall remain in force" and could only
be changed after general elections are held.

Bremer had found his legal loophole: There would be a
window -- seven months -- when the occupation was
officially over but before general elections were
scheduled to take place. Within this window, the Hague
and Geneva Conventions' bans on privatization would no
longer apply, but Bremer's own laws, thanks to Article
26, would stand. During these seven months, foreign
investors could come to Iraq and sign forty-year
contracts to buy up Iraqi assets. If a future elected
Iraqi government decided to change the rules, investors
could sue for compensation.

But Bremer had a formidable opponent: Grand Ayatollah
Ali al Sistani, the most senior Shia cleric in Iraq. al
Sistani tried to block Bremer's plan at every turn,
calling for immediate direct elections and for the
constitution to be written after those elections, not
before. Both demands, if met, would have closed
Bremer's privatization window. Then, on March 2, with
the Shia members of the Governing Council refusing to
sign the interim constitution, five bombs exploded in
front of mosques in Karbala and Baghdad, killing close
to 200 worshipers. General John Abizaid, the top U.S.
commander in Iraq, warned that the country was on the
verge of civil war. Frightened by this prospect, al
Sistani backed down and the Shia politicians signed the
interim constitution. It was a familiar story: the
shock of a violent attack paved the way for more shock
therapy.

When I arrived in Iraq a week later, the economic
project seemed to be back on track. All that remained
for Bremer was to get his interim constitution ratified
by a Security Council resolution, then the nervous
lawyers and insurance brokers could relax and the sell-
off of Iraq could finally begin. The CPA, meanwhile,
had launched a major new P.R. offensive designed to
reassure investors that Iraq was still a safe and
exciting place to do business. The centerpiece of the
campaign was Destination Baghdad Exposition, a massive
trade show for potential investors to be held in early
April at the Baghdad International Fairgrounds. It was
the first such event inside Iraq, and the organizers
had branded the trade fair "DBX," as if it were some
sort of Mountain Dew-sponsored dirt-bike race. In
keeping with the extreme-sports theme, Thomas Foley
traveled to Washington to tell a gathering of
executives that the risks in Iraq are akin "to
skydiving or riding a motorcycle, which are, to many,
very acceptable risks."

But three hours after my arrival in Baghdad, I was
finding these reassurances extremely hard to believe. I
had not yet unpacked when my hotel room was filled with
debris and the windows in the lobby were shattered.
Down the street, the Mount Lebanon Hotel had just been
bombed, at that point the largest attack of its kind
since the official end of the war. The next day,
another hotel was bombed in Basra, then two Finnish
businessmen were murdered on their way to a meeting in
Baghdad. Brigadier General Mark Kimmitt finally
admitted that there was a pattern at work: "the
extremists have started shifting away from the hard
targets . . . [and] are now going out of their way to
specifically target softer targets." The next day, the
State Department updated its travel advisory: U.S.
citizens were "strongly warned against travel to Iraq."

The physical risks of doing business in Iraq seemed to
be spiraling out of control. This, once again, was not
part of the original plan. When Bremer first arrived in
Baghdad, the armed resistance was so low that he was
able to walk the streets with a minimal security
entourage. During his first four months on the job, 109
U.S. soldiers were killed and 570 were wounded. In the
following four months, when Bremer's shock therapy had
taken effect, the number of U.S. casualties almost
doubled, with 195 soldiers killed and 1,633 wounded.
There are many in Iraq who argue that these events are
connected -- that Bremer's reforms were the single
largest factor leading to the rise of armed resistance.

Take, for instance, Bremer's first casualties. The
soldiers and workers he laid off without pensions or
severance pay didn't all disappear quietly. Many of
them went straight into the mujahedeen, forming the
backbone of the armed resistance. "Half a million
people are now worse off, and there you have the water
tap that keeps the insurgency going. It's alternative
employment," says Hussain Kubba, head of the prominent
Iraqi business group Kubba Consulting. Some of Bremer's
other economic casualties also have failed to go
quietly. It turns out that many of the businessmen
whose companies are threatened by Bremer's investment
laws have decided to make investments of their own --
in the resistance. It is partly their money that keeps
fighters in Kalashnikovs and RPGs.

These developments present a challenge to the basic
logic of shock therapy: the neocons were convinced that
if they brought in their reforms quickly and
ruthlessly, Iraqis would be too stunned to resist. But
the shock appears to have had the opposite effect;
rather than the predicted paralysis, it jolted many
Iraqis into action, much of it extreme. Haider al-
Abadi, Iraq's minister of communication, puts it this
way: "We know that there are terrorists in the country,
but previously they were not successful, they were
isolated. Now because the whole country is unhappy, and
a lot of people don't have jobs . . . these terrorists
are finding listening ears."

Bremer was now at odds not only with the Iraqis who
opposed his plans but with U.S military commanders
charged with putting down the insurgency his policies
were feeding. Heretical questions began to be raised:
instead of laying people off, what if the CPA actually
created jobs for Iraqis? And instead of rushing to sell
off Iraq's 200 state-owned firms, how about putting
them back to work?

* * *

>From the start, the neocons running Iraq had shown
nothing but disdain for Iraq's state-owned companies.
In keeping with their Year Zero -- apocalyptic glee,
when looters descended on the factories during the war,
U.S. forces did nothing. Sabah Asaad, managing director
of a refrigerator factory outside Baghdad, told me that
while the looting was going on, he went to a nearby
U.S. Army base and begged for help. "I asked one of the
officers to send two soldiers and a vehicle to help me
kick out the looters. I was crying. The officer said,
'Sorry, we can't do anything, we need an order from
President Bush.'" Back in Washington, Donald Rumsfeld
shrugged. "Free people are free to make mistakes and
commit crimes and do bad things."

To see the remains of Asaad's football-field-size
warehouse is to understand why Frank Gehry had an
artistic crisis after September 11 and was briefly
unable to design structures resembling the rubble of
modern buildings. Asaad's looted and burned factory
looks remarkably like a heavy-metal version of Gehry's
Guggenheim in Bilbao, Spain, with waves of steel,
buckled by fire, lying in terrifyingly beautiful golden
heaps. Yet all was not lost. "The looters were good-
hearted," one of Asaad's painters told me, explaining
that they left the tools and machines behind, "so we
could work again." Because the machines are still
there, many factory managers in Iraq say that it would
take little for them to return to full production. They
need emergency generators to cope with daily blackouts,
and they need capital for parts and raw materials. If
that happened, it would have tremendous implications
for Iraq's stalled reconstruction, because it would
mean that many of the key materials needed to rebuild
-- cement and steel, bricks and furniture -- could be
produced inside the country.

But it hasn't happened. Immediately after the nominal
end of the war, Congress appropriated $2.5 billion for
the reconstruction of Iraq, followed by an additional
$18.4 billion in October. Yet as of July 2004, Iraq's
state-owned factories had been pointedly excluded from
the reconstruction contracts. Instead, the billions
have all gone to Western companies, with most of the
materials for the reconstruction imported at great
expense from abroad.

With unemployment as high as 67 percent, the imported
products and foreign workers flooding across the
borders have become a source of tremendous resentment
in Iraq and yet another open tap fueling the
insurgency. And Iraqis don't have to look far for
reminders of this injustice; it's on display in the
most ubiquitous symbol of the occupation: the blast
wall. The ten-foot-high slabs of reinforced concrete
are everywhere in Iraq, separating the protected -- the
people in upscale hotels, luxury homes, military bases,
and, of course, the Green Zon -- from the unprotected
and exposed. If that wasn't injury enough, all the
blast walls are imported, from Kurdistan, Turkey, or
even farther afield, this despite the fact that Iraq
was once a major manufacturer of cement, and could
easily be again. There are seventeen state-owned cement
factories across the country, but most are idle or
working at only half capacity. According to the
Ministry of Industry, not one of these factories has
received a single contract to help with the
reconstruction, even though they could produce the
walls and meet other needs for cement at a greatly
reduced cost. The CPA pays up to $1,000 per imported
blast wall; local manufacturers say they could make
them for $100. Minister Tofiq says there is a simple
reason why the Americans refuse to help get Iraq's
cement factories running again: among those making the
decisions, "no one believes in the public sector."[1]

This kind of ideological blindness has turned Iraq's
occupiers into prisoners of their own policies, hiding
behind walls that, by their very existence, fuel the
rage at the U.S. presence, thereby feeding the need for
more walls. In Baghdad the concrete barriers have been
given a popular nickname: Bremer Walls.

As the insurgency grew, it soon became clear that if
Bremer went ahead with his plans to sell off the state
companies, it could worsen the violence. There was no
question that privatization would require layoffs: the
Ministry of Industry estimates that roughly 145,000
workers would have to be fired to make the firms
desirable to investors, with each of those workers
supporting, on average, five family members. For Iraq's
besieged occupiers the question was: Would these shock-
therapy casualties accept their fate or would they
rebel?

* * *

The answer arrived, in rather dramatic fashion, at one
of the largest state-owned companies, the General
Company for Vegetable Oils. The complex of six
factories in a Baghdad industrial zone produces cooking
oil, hand soap, laundry detergent, shaving cream, and
shampoo. At least that is what I was told by a
receptionist who gave me glossy brochures and calendars
boasting of "modern instruments" and "the latest and
most up to date developments in the field of industry."
But when I approached the soap factory, I discovered a
group of workers sleeping outside a darkened building.
Our guide rushed ahead, shouting something to a woman
in a white lab coat, and suddenly the factory scrambled
into activity: lights switched on, motors revved up,
and workers -- still blinking off sleep -- began
filling two-liter plastic bottles with pale blue Zahi
brand dishwashing liquid.

I asked Nada Ahmed, the woman in the white coat, why
the factory wasn't working a few minutes before. She
explained that they have only enough electricity and
materials to run the machines for a couple of hours a
day, but when guests arrive -- would-be investors,
ministry officials, journalists -- they get them going.
"For show," she explained. Behind us, a dozen bulky
machines sat idle, covered in sheets of dusty plastic
and secured with duct tape.

In one dark corner of the plant, we came across an old
man hunched over a sack filled with white plastic caps.
With a thin metal blade lodged in a wedge of wax, he
carefully whittled down the edges of each cap, leaving
a pile of shavings at his feet. "We don't have the
spare part for the proper mold, so we have to cut them
by hand," his supervisor explained apologetically. "We
haven't received any parts from Germany since the
sanctions began." I noticed that even on the assembly
lines that were nominally working there was almost no
mechanization: bottles were held under spouts by hand
because conveyor belts don't convey, lids once snapped
on by machines were being hammered in place with wooden
mallets. Even the water for the factory was drawn from
an outdoor well, hoisted by hand, and carried inside.

The solution proposed by the U.S. occupiers was not to
fix the plant but to sell it, and so when Bremer
announced the privatization auction back in June 2003
this was among the first companies mentioned. Yet when
I visited the factory in March, nobody wanted to talk
about the privatization plan; the mere mention of the
word inside the plant inspired awkward silences and
meaningful glances. This seemed an unnatural amount of
subtext for a soap factory, and I tried to get to the
bottom of it when I interviewed the assistant manager.
But the interview itself was equally odd: I had spent
half a week setting it up, submitting written questions
for approval, getting a signed letter of permission
from the minister of industry, being questioned and
searched several times. But when I finally began the
interview, the assistant manager refused to tell me his
name or let me record the conversation. "Any manager
mentioned in the press is attacked afterwards," he
said. And when I asked whether the company was being
sold, he gave this oblique response: "If the decision
was up to the workers, they are against privatization;
but if it's up to the high-ranking officials and
government, then privatization is an order and orders
must be followed."

I left the plant feeling that I knew less than when I'd
arrived. But on the way out of the gates, a young
security guard handed my translator a note. He wanted
us to meet him after work at a nearby restaurant, "to
find out what is really going on with privatization."
His name was Mahmud, and he was a twenty-five-year-old
with a neat beard and big black eyes. (For his safety,
I have omitted his last name.) His story began in July,
a few weeks after Bremer's privatization announcement.
The company's manager, on his way to work, was shot to
death. Press reports speculated that the manager was
murdered because he was in favor of privatizing the
plant, but Mahmud was convinced that he was killed
because he opposed the plan. "He would never have sold
the factories like the Americans want. That's why they
killed him."

The dead man was replaced by a new manager, Mudhfar
Ja'far. Shortly after taking over, Ja'far called a
meeting with ministry officials to discuss selling off
the soap factory, which would involve laying off two
thirds of its employees. Guarding that meeting were
several security officers from the plant. They listened
closely to Ja'far's plans and promptly reported the
alarming news to their coworkers. "We were shocked,"
Mahmud recalled. "If the private sector buys our
company, the first thing they would do is reduce the
staff to make more money. And we will be forced into a
very hard destiny, because the factory is our only way
of living."

Frightened by this prospect, a group of seventeen
workers, including Mahmud, marched into Ja'far's office
to confront him on what they had heard. "Unfortunately,
he wasn't there, only the assistant manager, the one
you met," Mahmud told me. A fight broke out: one worker
struck the assistant manager, and a bodyguard fired
three shots at the workers. The crowd then attacked the
bodyguard, took his gun, and, Mahmud said, "stabbed him
with a knife in the back three times. He spent a month
in the hospital." In January there was even more
violence. On their way to work, Ja'far, the manager,
and his son were shot and badly injured. Mahmud told
me he had no idea who was behind the attack, but I was
starting to understand why factory managers in Iraq try
to keep a low profile.

At the end of our meeting, I asked Mahmud what would
happen if the plant was sold despite the workers'
objections. "There are two choices," he said, looking
me in the eye and smiling kindly. "Either we will set
the factory on fire and let the flames devour it to the
ground, or we will blow ourselves up inside of it. But
it will not be privatized."

If there ever was a moment when Iraqis were too
disoriented to resist shock therapy, that moment has
definitely passed. Labor relations, like everything
else in Iraq, has become a blood sport. The violence on
the streets howls at the gates of the factories,
threatening to engulf them. Workers fear job loss as a
death sentence, and managers, in turn, fear their
workers, a fact that makes privatization distinctly
more complicated than the neocons foresaw.[2]

* * *

As I left the meeting with Mahmud, I got word that
there was a major demonstration outside the CPA
headquarters. Supporters of the radical young cleric
Moqtada al Sadr were protesting the closing of their
newspaper, al Hawza, by military police. The CPA
accused al Hawza of publishing "false articles" that
could "pose the real threat of violence." As an
example, it cited an article that claimed Bremer "is
pursuing a policy of starving the Iraqi people to make
them preoccupied with procuring their daily bread so
they do not have the chance to demand their political
and individual freedoms." To me it sounded less like
hate literature than a concise summary of Milton
Friedman's recipe for shock therapy.

A few days before the newspaper was shut down, I had
gone to Kufa during Friday prayers to listen to al Sadr
at his mosque. He had launched into a tirade against
Bremer's newly signed interim constitution, calling it
"an unjust, terrorist document." The message of the
sermon was clear: Grand Ayatollah Ali al Sistani may
have backed down on the constitution, but al Sadr and
his supporters were still determined to fight it -- and
if they succeeded they would sabotage the neocons'
careful plan to saddle Iraq's next government with
their "wish list" of laws. With the closing of the
newspaper, Bremer was giving al Sadr his response: he
wasn't negotiating with this young upstart; he'd rather
take him out with force.

When I arrived at the demonstration, the streets were
filled with men dressed in black, the soon-to-be
legendary Mahdi Army. It struck me that if Mahmud lost
his security guard job at the soap factory, he could be
one of them. That's who al Sadr's foot soldiers are:
the young men who have been shut out of the neocons'
grand plans for Iraq, who see no possibilities for
work, and whose neighborhoods have seen none of the
promised reconstruction. Bremer has failed these young
men, and everywhere that he has failed, Moqtada al Sadr
has cannily set out to succeed. In Shia slums from
Baghdad to Basra, a network of Sadr Centers coordinate
a kind of shadow reconstruction. Funded through
donations, the centers dispatch electricians to fix
power and phone lines, organize local garbage
collection, set up emergency generators, run blood
drives, direct traffic where the streetlights donâ't
work. And yes, they organize militias too. Al Sadr took
Bremer's economic casualties, dressed them in black,
and gave them rusty Kalashnikovs. His militiamen
protected the mosques and the state factories when the
occupation authorities did not, but in some areas they
also went further, zealously enforcing Islamic law by
torching liquor stores and terrorizing women without
the veil. Indeed, the astronomical rise of the brand
of religious fundamentalism that al Sadr represents is
another kind of blowback from Bremer's shock therapy:
if the reconstruction had provided jobs, security, and
services to Iraqis, al Sadr would have been deprived of
both his mission and many of his newfound followers.

At the same time as al Sadr's followers were shouting
"Down with America" outside the Green Zone, something
was happening in another part of the country that would
change everything. Four American mercenary soldiers
were killed in Fallujah, their charred and dismembered
bodies hung like trophies over the Euphrates. The
attacks would prove a devastating blow for the neocons,
one from which they would never recover. With these
images, investing in Iraq suddenly didn't look anything
like a capitalist dream; it looked like a macabre
nightmare made real.

The day I left Baghdad was the worst yet. Fallujah was
under siege and Brig. Gen. Kimmitt was threatening to
"destroy the al-Mahdi Army." By the end, roughly 2,000
Iraqis were killed in these twin campaigns. I was
dropped off at a security checkpoint several miles from
the airport, then loaded onto a bus jammed with
contractors lugging hastily packed bags. Although no
one was calling it one, this was an evacuation: over
the next week 1,500 contractors left Iraq, and some
governments began airlifting their citizens out of the
country. On the bus no one spoke; we all just listened
to the mortar fire, craning our necks to see the red
glow. A guy carrying a KPMG briefcase decided to
lighten things up. "So is there business class on this
flight?" he asked the silent bus. From the back,
somebody called out, "Not yet."

Indeed, it may be quite a while before business class
truly arrives in Iraq. When we landed in Amman, we
learned that we had gotten out just in time. That
morning three Japanese civilians were kidnapped and
their captors were threatening to burn them alive. Two
days later Nicholas Berg went missing and was not seen
again until the snuff film surfaced of his beheading,
an even more terrifying message for U.S. contractors
than the charred bodies in Fallujah. These were the
start of a wave of kidnappings and killings of
foreigners, most of them businesspeople, from a rainbow
of nations: South Korea, Italy, China, Nepal, Pakistan,
the Philippines, Turkey. By the end of June more than
ninety contractors were reported dead in Iraq. When
seven Turkish contractors were kidnapped in June, their
captors asked the "company to cancel all contracts and
pull out employees from Iraq." Many insurance companies
stopped selling life insurance to contractors, and
others began to charge premiums as high as $10,000 a
week for a single Western executive -- the same price
some insurgents reportedly pay for a dead American.

For their part, the organizers of DBX, the historic
Baghdad trade fair, decided to relocate to the lovely
tourist city of Diyarbakir in Turkey, "just 250 km from
the Iraqi border." An Iraqi landscape, only without
those frightening Iraqis. Three weeks later just
fifteen people showed up for a Commerce Department
conference in Lansing, Michigan, on investing in Iraq.
Its host, Republican Congressman Mike Rogers, tried to
reassure his skeptical audience by saying that Iraq is
"like a rough neighborhood anywhere in America." The
foreign investors, the ones who were offered every
imaginable free-market enticement, are clearly not
convinced; there is still no sign of them. Keith Crane,
a senior economist at the Rand Corporation who has
worked for the CPA, put it bluntly: "I don't believe
the board of a multinational company could approve a
major investment in this environment. If people are
shooting at each other, it's just difficult to do
business." Hamid Jassim Khamis, the manager of the
largest soft-drink bottling plant in the region, told
me he can't find any investors, even though he landed
the exclusive rights to produce Pepsi in central Iraq.
"A lot of people have approached us to invest in the
factory, but people are really hesitating now." Khamis
said he couldn't blame them; in five months he has
survived an attempted assassination, a carjacking, two
bombs planted at the entrance of his factory, and the
kidnapping of his son.

Despite having been granted the first license for a
foreign bank to operate in Iraq in forty years, HSBC
still hasn't opened any branches, a decision that may
mean losing the coveted license altogether. Procter &
Gamble has put its joint venture on hold, and so has
General Motors. The U.S. financial backers of the
Starwood luxury hotel and multiplex have gotten cold
feet, and Siemens AG has pulled most staff from Iraq.
The bell hasn't rung yet at the Baghdad Stock Exchange
-- in fact you can't even use credit cards in Iraq's
cash-only economy. New Bridge Strategies, the company
that had gushed back in October about how "a Wal-Mart
could take over the country," is sounding distinctly
humbled. "McDonald's is not opening anytime soon,"
company partner Ed Rogers told the Washington Post.
Neither is Wal-Mart. The Financial Times has declared
Iraq "the most dangerous place in the world in which to
do business." It's quite an accomplishment: in trying
to design the best place in the world to do business,
the neocons have managed to create the worst, the most
eloquent indictment yet of the guiding logic behind
deregulated free markets.

The violence has not just kept investors out; it also
forced Bremer, before he left, to abandon many of his
central economic policies. Privatization of the state
companies is off the table; instead, several of the
state companies have been offered up for lease, but
only if the investor agrees not to lay off a single
employee. Thousands of the state workers that Bremer
fired have been rehired, and significant raises have
been handed out in the public sector as a whole. Plans
to do away with the food-ration program have also been
scrapped -- it just doesn't seem like a good time to
deny millions of Iraqis the only nutrition on which
they can depend.

* * *

The final blow to the neocon dream came in the weeks
before the handover. The White House and the CPA were
rushing to get the U.N. Security Council to pass a
resolution endorsing their handover plan. They had
twisted arms to give the top job to former CIA agent
Iyad Allawi, a move that will ensure that Iraq becomes,
at the very least, the coaling station for U.S. troops
that Jay Garner originally envisioned. But if major
corporate investors were going to come to Iraq in the
future, they would need a stronger guarantee that
Bremer's economic laws would stick. There was only one
way of doing that: the Security Council resolution had
to ratify the interim constitution, which locked in
Bremer's laws for the duration of the interim
government. But al Sistani once again objected, this
time unequivocally, saying that the constitution has
been "rejected by the majority of the Iraqi people." On
June 8 the Security Council unanimously passed a
resolution that endorsed the handover plan but made
absolutely no reference to the constitution. In the
face of this far-reaching defeat, George W. Bush
celebrated the resolution as a historic victory, one
that came just in time for an election trail photo op
at the G-8 Summit in Georgia.

With Bremer's laws in limbo, Iraqi ministers are
already talking openly about breaking contracts signed
by the CPA. Citigroup's loan scheme has been rejected
as a misuse of Iraq's oil revenues. Iraq's
communication minister is threatening to renegotiate
contracts with the three communications firms providing
the country with its disastrously poor cell phone
service. And the Lebanese and U.S. companies hired to
run the state television network have been informed
that they could lose their licenses because they are
not Iraqi. "We will see if we can change the contract,"
Hamid al-Kifaey, spokesperson for the Governing
Council, said in May. "They have no idea about Iraq."
For most investors, this complete lack of legal
certainty simply makes Iraq too great a risk.

But while the Iraqi resistance has managed to scare off
the first wave of corporate raiders, there's little
doubt that they will return. Whatever form the next
Iraqi government takes -- nationalist, Islamist, or
free market -- it will inherit a shattered nation with
a crushing $120 billion debt. Then, as in all poor
countries around the world, men in dark blue suits from
the IMF will appear at the door, bearing loans and
promises of economic boom, provided that certain
structural adjustments are made, which will, of course,
be rather painful at first but well worth the sacrifice
in the end. In fact, the process has already begun: the
IMF is poised to approve loans worth $2.5 - $4.25
billion, pending agreement on the conditions. After an
endless succession of courageous last stands and far
too many lost lives, Iraq will become a poor nation
like any other, with politicians determined to
introduce policies rejected by the vast majority of the
population, and all the imperfect compromises that will
entail. The free market will no doubt come to Iraq, but
the neoconservative dream of transforming the country
into a free-market utopia has already died, a casualty
of a greater dream -- a second term for George W. Bush.

The great historical irony of the catastrophe unfolding
in Iraq is that the shock-therapy reforms that were
supposed to create an economic boom that would rebuild
the country have instead fueled a resistance that
ultimately made reconstruction impossible. Bremer's
reforms unleashed forces that the neocons neither
predicted nor could hope to control, from armed
insurrections inside factories to tens of thousands of
unemployed young men arming themselves. These forces
have transformed Year Zero in Iraq into the mirror
opposite of what the neocons envisioned: not a
corporate utopia but a ghoulish dystopia, where going
to a simple business meeting can get you lynched,
burned alive, or beheaded. These dangers are so great
that in Iraq global capitalism has retreated, at least
for now. For the neocons, this must be a shocking
development: their ideological belief in greed turns
out to be stronger than greed itself.

Iraq was to the neocons what Afghanistan was to the
Taliban: the one place on Earth where they could force
everyone to live by the most literal, unyielding
interpretation of their sacred texts. One would think
that the bloody results of this experiment would
inspire a crisis of faith: in the country where they
had absolute free reign, where there was no local
government to blame, where economic reforms were
introduced at their most shocking and most perfect,
they created, instead of a model free market, a failed
state no right-thinking investor would touch. And yet
the Green Zone neocons and their masters in Washington
are no more likely to reexamine their core beliefs than
the Taliban mullahs were inclined to search their souls
when their Islamic state slid into a debauched Hades of
opium and sex slavery. When facts threaten true
believers, they simply close their eyes and pray
harder.

Which is precisely what Thomas Foley has been doing.
The former head of "private sector development" has
left Iraq, a country he had described as "the mother of
all turnarounds," and has accepted another turnaround
job, as co-chair of George Bush's reelection committee
in Connecticut. On April 30 in Washington he addressed
a crowd of entrepreneurs about business prospects in
Baghdad. It was a tough day to be giving an upbeat
speech: that morning the first photographs had appeared
out of Abu Ghraib, including one of a hooded prisoner
with electrical wires attached to his hands. This was
another kind of shock therapy, far more literal than
the one Foley had helped to administer, but not
entirely unconnected. "Whatever you're seeing, it's not
as bad as it appears," Foley told the crowd. "You just
need to accept that on faith."

[Naomi Klein is the author of No Logo and
writer/producer of "The Take," a new documentary on
Argentina's occupied factories.]

Notes:

1. Tofiq did say that several U.S. companies had
expressed strong interest in buying the state-owned
cement factories. This supports a widely held belief in
Iraq that there is a deliberate strategy to neglect the
state firms so that they can be sold more cheaply--a
practice known as "starve then sell."

2. It is in Basra where the connections between
economic reforms and the rise of the resistance was put
in starkest terms. In December the union representing
oil workers was negotiating with the Oil Ministry for a
salary increase. Getting nowhere, the workers offered
the ministry a simple choice: increase their paltry
salaries or they would all join the armed resistance.
They received a substantial raise.

foreign aid

America's Promises


Published: January 28, 2005

Three years ago, President Bush created the Millennium Challenge Account to give more money to poor countries that are committed to policies promoting development. Mr. Bush said his government would donate billions in incremental stages until the program got to a high of $5 billion a year starting in 2006. While $5 billion is just 0.04 percent of America's national income, President Bush touted the proposal as proof that he cares about poverty in Africa and elsewhere. "I carry this commitment in my soul," the president said.

For the third straight year, Mr. Bush has committed a lot less than he promised. Michael Phillips of The Wall Street Journal reports that the White House has quietly informed the managers of the Millennium Challenge Account to expect about $3 billion in the next budget. This follows a sad pattern. Mr. Bush said he would ask Congress for $1.7 billion in 2004; he asked for $1.3 billion and got $1 billion. He said he would ask for $3.3 billion in 2005; he asked for $2.5 billion and got $1.5 billion.

So if past is prologue, the Republican Congress will cut the diluted 2006 pledge even further.

None of that appears to bother the Bush administration, which continues to send high-ranking officials into the world to promote the anemic Millennium Challenge Account to poor nations. The program - not the money, since the account has yet to pay out a single dollar - is high on the list of talking points for cabinet officials like the United States trade representative, Robert Zoellick, who visited Africa in December and cited the program every chance he got. Speaking to Latin American ambassadors in Washington this month, a Treasury under secretary, John Taylor, hailed it as a "major way in which we are working with countries to meet the challenge of increasing productivity growth."

Officials at the Millennium Challenge Account are quick to list the countries that, through good governance, have qualified for the aid program. They are not as quick to list the countries that have received a dime: there aren't any. Still, Paul Applegarth, chief executive of the Millennium Challenge Corporation, assured us last week that President Bush's program is "really moving at an extraordinarily quick pace."

Maybe the administration should tell that to the 300 million Africans who lack safe drinking water, or the 3,000 African children under the age of 5 who die every day from malaria, or the 1 in 16 African women who die in childbirth, or the 6,000 Africans who die each day of AIDS. But wait. Maybe the president is planning to deal with the African AIDS catastrophe through his 2003 proposal to increase AIDS funds by $10 billion over the following five years?

Not unless he is planning to finish with a bang, because the White House is expected to ask Congress for only $1.6 billion more next year. When added to the amount that AIDS funds increased in 2004 and 2005, that would leave a whopping more than $6 billion to get out of Congress in the next two years to meet Mr. Bush's pledge. Congress and Mr. Bush will point to the ballooning deficit and say they don't have the money. But that was a matter of choice. They chose to spend billions on tax cuts for the wealthy and the war in Iraq. They can choose to spend it instead to keep America's promises.


Are We Stingy? Yes



Published: December 30, 2004

resident Bush finally roused himself yesterday from his vacation in Crawford, Tex., to telephone his sympathy to the leaders of India, Sri Lanka, Thailand and Indonesia, and to speak publicly about the devastation of Sunday's tsunamis in Asia. He also hurried to put as much distance as possible between himself and America's initial measly aid offer of $15 million, and he took issue with an earlier statement by the United Nations' emergency relief coordinator, Jan Egeland, who had called the overall aid efforts by rich Western nations "stingy." "The person who made that statement was very misguided and ill informed," the president said.

We beg to differ. Mr. Egeland was right on target. We hope Secretary of State Colin Powell was privately embarrassed when, two days into a catastrophic disaster that hit 12 of the world's poorer countries and will cost billions of dollars to meliorate, he held a press conference to say that America, the world's richest nation, would contribute $15 million. That's less than half of what Republicans plan to spend on the Bush inaugural festivities.

The American aid figure for the current disaster is now $35 million, and we applaud Mr. Bush's turnaround. But $35 million remains a miserly drop in the bucket, and is in keeping with the pitiful amount of the United States budget that we allocate for nonmilitary foreign aid. According to a poll, most Americans believe the United States spends 24 percent of its budget on aid to poor countries; it actually spends well under a quarter of 1 percent.

Bush administration officials help create that perception gap. Fuming at the charge of stinginess, Mr. Powell pointed to disaster relief and said the United States "has given more aid in the last four years than any other nation or combination of nations in the world." But for development aid, America gave $16.2 billion in 2003; the European Union gave $37.1 billion. In 2002, those numbers were $13.2 billion for America, and $29.9 billion for Europe.

Making things worse, we often pledge more money than we actually deliver. Victims of the earthquake in Bam, Iran, a year ago are still living in tents because aid, including ours, has not materialized in the amounts pledged. And back in 2002, Mr. Bush announced his Millennium Challenge account to give African countries development assistance of up to $5 billion a year, but the account has yet to disperse a single dollar.

Mr. Bush said yesterday that the $35 million we've now pledged "is only the beginning" of the United States' recovery effort. Let's hope that is true, and that this time, our actions will match our promises.

……………………………..

Right now, the United States is the Scrooge of the Western world — the least generous rich nation on the planet. One of the tables in that W.H.O. report shows the share of G.N.P. given in foreign aid by advanced countries; the United States ranks dead last, well behind far poorer countries such as Portugal and Greece. The sums proposed by the W.H.O. would double our foreign aid budget, not because those sums are large, but because we start from so low a base — about a dime a day for each U.S. citizen.

. During the 1980s America applied diplomatic and economic pressure to repressive regimes from Poland to South Africa; intervened to prevent military coups in the Philippines, Peru, El Salvador, Honduras, and Bolivia; and loudly enshrined human rights and democracy in official policy. The United States played a pivotal and direct role in democratizing even countries like South Korea and Taiwan,

Shortchanging Foreign Aid

lthough there are some positive elements in the foreign aid bill that the House passed last week, it is still seriously flawed and has rightly invited a veto threat from President Clinton. The basic problem is that the overall allocation is far too low to meet American foreign policy objectives. Both the House bill and the Senate version that passed in June are nearly $2 billion below the White House request for fiscal 2001.

Both spending bills make severe cuts in White House funding for multinational development banks that make basic infrastructure loans to the poorest countries. They also fail to finance international women's health programs adequately, and reduce funding for peacekeeping and nuclear nonproliferation efforts. The House, for instance, would cut the administration's contribution to development loans by 40 percent.

In addition, the House bill contains an unacceptable provision that would deny American assistance to any foreign organization that uses its own money to provide abortions or engages in political debate to change abortion


Why they hate us: A year after 9/11, a look at ill will many have toward U.S.


By Patrick J. Dickson, Stars and Stripes
Stripes Sunday magazine, September 8, 2002

The images were infuriating. Palestinian children smiling, with arms raised. Young men in Lebanon firing guns into the air in celebration.

Another bombing in Israel? No. The attacks of Sept. 11.

Even in the United States, this happened: Egyptians, Palestinians and Arabs in Paterson, N.J., celebrated as they got word of the attacks.

What is the source of the ill will many in the Muslim world feel toward America?

The Rev. Jesse Jackson thinks that economic disparity plays a large role.

“[We must] address the bounding poverty and hardship in the area,” Jackson said.

“Think of why the Europeans like us. [It’s] because we’ve been a place of refuge to them. When their backs were against the wall, we fought for them — not against them,” he said.

“When they were decimated by the war, we put forth the Marshall Plan and made available in Europe, for 50 years, loans at 2 percent government security. We have been their refuge, and have left NATO in perpetual security.”

But what about our foreign aid? It’s a common perception that the United States provides billions in foreign aid, some of it to nations with less-than-perfect accounting or a spotty history of human rights.

The United States certainly does, in raw dollars, provide far more foreign assistance than any other nation.

But where does the money go?

The United States spent $12.1 billion in foreign military sales in 2000, according to figures provided by the Department of Defense. This includes hardware, construction and services.

For the same year, however, only $10.8 billion was spent on overseas development aid, according to the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development.

In raw dollars, U.S. foreign assistance easily outstrips other nations. But as a percentage of gross domestic product, the United States falls far down the rankings to 12th.

Mark Hertsgaard is a freelance writer, a contributor to National Public Radio and The New York Times, and author of a book coming out this fall, “The Eagle’s Shadow: Why America Fascinates and Infuriates the World.”

Hertsgaard admits that America sends a lot of money overseas, but questions the quality of investment.

“Most of our foreign aid is in the form of military hardware exports, not humanitarian aid, and these military exports tend to go to repressive governments and armed forces — whether in Saudi Arabia, Israel, Indonesia, Colombia, or you name the country,” he said. “Is it any wonder then that average local folks do not feel so grateful?”

Jonathan Schanzer is a research fellow at Middle East Forum, a Philadelphia think tank whose mission statement is to “promote American interests” in the Middle East.

Schanzer disagrees with critics of America’s foreign aid programs. While admitting that much assistance is military-related, Schanzer points out that any money is better than no money at all.

“America had been a very generous benefactor to the Middle East; we have billions [of dollars] sunk in there,” Schanzer said. “Egypt is second in [receiving] aid to the region, but the Egyptians are furious.”

And to those who say the United States is contributing a minimum in order to reap the oil benefits, Schanzer is equally dismissive.

“Where would the region be without U.S. oil money? [Foreign] aid is not the problem,” he said.

“The Muslim world is suffering from major economic problems, oppression, [and] the people have no say in government ruled by autocratic regimes.”

Radio talk show host Oliver North, formerly a Marine colonel, agrees. He used a theoretical U.S. attack on Iraq to illustrate the point that autocratic and secretive regimes in the Middle East are likely to hold the United States at arm’s length to keep the status quo.

“If democracy works — if democracy works for the Palestinians, or if it works in Baghdad, what does that mean for the dictatorships in … Damascus? Amman? In Riyadh? Algiers? Tripoli?

“If you’re in these places, and you’re looking at the United States talking about democracy in Iraq … what are you thinking? You’re thinking, ‘Who’s next?!’ Not because the United States is going to impose it, but because their own people are going to say ‘Hey, look what’s going on in Baghdad!

“So a lot of our ‘friends’ in the region are very, very goosey about what that means for them. That’s why they’re not supporting us.”


Social Security articles

The Free Lunch Bunch

By PAUL KRUGMAN

Published: January 21, 2005 id they believe they would be welcomed as liberators? Administration plans to privatize Social Security have clearly run into unexpected opposition. Even Republicans are balking; Representative Bill Thomas says that the initial Bush plan will soon be a "dead horse."

That may be overstating it, but for privatizers the worst is yet to come. If people are rightly skeptical about claims that Social Security faces an imminent crisis, just wait until they start looking closely at the supposed solution.

President Bush is like a financial adviser who tells you that at the rate you're going, you won't be able to afford retirement - but that you shouldn't do anything mundane like trying to save more. Instead, you should take out a huge loan, put the money in a mutual fund run by his friends (with management fees to be determined later) and place your faith in capital gains.

That, once you cut through all the fine phrases about an "ownership society," is how the Bush privatization plan works. Payroll taxes would be diverted into private accounts, forcing the government to borrow to replace the lost revenue. The government would make up for this borrowing by reducing future benefits; yet workers would supposedly end up better off, in spite of reduced benefits, through the returns on their accounts.

The whole scheme ignores the most basic principle of economics: there is no free lunch.

There are several ways to explain why this particular lunch isn't free, but the clearest comes from Michael Kinsley, editorial and opinion editor of The Los Angeles Times. He points out that the math of Bush-style privatization works only if you assume both that stocks are a much better investment than government bonds and that somebody out there in the private sector will nonetheless sell those private accounts lots of stocks while buying lots of government bonds.

So privatizers are in effect asserting that politicians are smart - they know that stocks are a much better investment than bonds - while private investors are stupid, and will swap their valuable stocks for much less valuable government bonds. Isn't such an assertion very peculiar coming from people who claim to trust markets?

When I ask privatizers that question, I get two responses.

One is that the diversion of revenue into private accounts doesn't have to lead to government borrowing, that the money can come from, um, someplace else. Of course, many schemes look good if you assume that they will be subsidized with large sums shipped in from an undisclosed location.

Alternatively, they point out that stocks on average were a very good investment over the last several decades. But remember the disclaimer that mutual funds are obliged to include in their ads: "past performance is no guarantee of future results."

Fifty years ago most people, remembering 1929, were afraid of the stock market. As a result, those who did buy stocks got to buy them cheap: on average, the value of a company's stock was only about 13 times that company's profits. Because stocks were cheap, they yielded high returns in dividends and capital gains.

But high returns always get competed away, once people know about them: stocks are no longer cheap. Today, the value of a typical company's stock is more than 20 times its profits. The more you pay for an asset, the lower the rate of return you can expect to earn. That's why even Jeremy Siegel, whose "Stocks for the Long Run" is often cited by those who favor stocks over bonds, has conceded that "returns on stocks over bonds won't be as large as in the past."

But a very high return on stocks over bonds is essential in privatization schemes; otherwise private accounts created with borrowed money won't earn enough to compensate for their risks. And if we take into account realistic estimates of the fees that mutual funds will charge - remember, in Britain those fees reduce workers' nest eggs by 20 to 30 percent - privatization turns into a lose-lose proposition.

Sometimes I do find myself puzzled: why don't privatizers understand that their schemes rest on the peculiar belief that there is a giant free lunch there for the taking? But then I remember what Upton Sinclair wrote: "It is difficult to get a man to understand something when his salary depends on his not understanding it."

E-mail: krugman@nytimes.com

Little Black Lies

By PAUL KRUGMAN

Published: January 28, 2005

ocial Security privatization really is like tax cuts, or the Iraq war: the administration keeps on coming up with new rationales, but the plan remains the same. President Bush's claim that we must privatize Social Security to avert an imminent crisis has evidently fallen flat. So now he's playing the race card. This week, in a closed meeting with African-Americans, Mr. Bush asserted that Social Security was a bad deal for their race, repeating his earlier claim that "African-American males die sooner than other males do, which means the system is inherently unfair to a certain group of people." In other words, blacks don't live long enough to collect their fair share of benefits.

This isn't a new argument; privatizers have been making it for years. But the claim that blacks get a bad deal from Social Security is false. And Mr. Bush's use of that false argument is doubly shameful, because he's exploiting the tragedy of high black mortality for political gain instead of treating it as a problem we should solve.

Let's start with the facts. Mr. Bush's argument goes back at least seven years, to a report issued by the Heritage Foundation - a report so badly misleading that the deputy chief actuary (now the chief actuary) of the Social Security Administration wrote a memo pointing out "major errors in the methodology." That's actuary-speak for "damned lies."

In fact, the actuary said, "careful research reflecting actual work histories for workers by race indicate that the nonwhite population actually enjoys the same or better expected rates of return from Social Security" as whites.

Here's why. First, Mr. Bush's remarks on African-Americans perpetuate a crude misunderstanding about what life expectancy means. It's true that the current life expectancy for black males at birth is only 68.8 years - but that doesn't mean that a black man who has worked all his life can expect to die after collecting only a few years' worth of Social Security benefits. Blacks' low life expectancy is largely due to high death rates in childhood and young adulthood. African-American men who make it to age 65 can expect to live, and collect benefits, for an additional 14.6 years - not that far short of the 16.6-year figure for white men.

Second, the formula determining Social Security benefits is progressive: it provides more benefits, as a percentage of earnings, to low-income workers than to high-income workers. Since African-Americans are paid much less, on average, than whites, this works to their advantage.

Finally, Social Security isn't just a retirement program; it's also a disability insurance program. And blacks are much more likely than whites to receive disability benefits.

Put it all together, and the deal African-Americans get from Social Security turns out, according to various calculations, to be either about the same as that for whites or somewhat better. Hispanics, by the way, clearly do better than either.

So the claim that Social Security is unfair to blacks is just false. And the fact that privatizers keep making that claim, after their calculations have repeatedly been shown to be wrong, is yet another indicator of the fundamental dishonesty of their sales pitch.

What's really shameful about Mr. Bush's exploitation of the black death rate, however, is what it takes for granted.

The persistent gap in life expectancy between African-Americans and whites is one measure of the deep inequalities that remain in our society - including highly unequal access to good-quality health care. We ought to be trying to diminish that gap, especially given the fact that black infants are two and half times as likely as white babies to die in their first year.

Now nobody can expect instant progress in reducing health inequalities. But the benefits of Social Security privatization, if any, won't materialize for many decades. By using blacks' low life expectancy as an argument for privatization, Mr. Bush is in effect taking it as a given that 40 or 50 years from now, large numbers of African-Americans will still be dying before their time.

Is this an example of what Mr. Bush famously called "the soft bigotry of low expectations?" Maybe not: it isn't particularly soft to treat premature black deaths not as a tragedy we must end but as just another way to push your ideological agenda. But bigotry - yes, that sounds like the right word.

Sen. Wayne Allard Colorado Republican says that the US government will simply go into default and never pay the money back.

From today's Greeley Tribune ...

"I believe we have a problem with Social Security that will emerge in 2018," he said. "At that point in time, Social Security pay out will be more than what is in the fund put in by working people or employers."

Allard said there are no reserves in Social Security because what is there is automatically transferred into the general fund, leaving a debt of $28 trillion. But he doesn't believe the money will ever be repaid to the fund.

"The money is spent," he said. "I don't believe in my own opinion we'll be able to raise the funds to pay it back."

And since the portion of our national debt owed to the Social Security Trust Fund makes up (I believe) less than a third of our total debt, are we going to default on the rest of those bonds too?

-- Josh Marshall

(January 13, 2005 -- 05:49 PM EST // link // print)

The Big Freeze

(http://yglesias.typepad.com/) The Bushian switch from a wage index to a price index is not merely the one-time cut in benefits from 40 percent of wages to 20 percent of wages for people roughly my age that it's been portrayed as. Since the wage-price differential continually increases over time, if you look at the proposal in the infinite horizon (and we know Bush loves the infinite horizon) this means that over time Social Security benefits will asymptotically approach zero percent of wages.

It's a plan, in other words, to eliminate the program. But not to eliminate it for anyone who could vote today, instead the unborn are to bear the brunt of Bush's cuts. Neat trick. We could similarly "fix" Social Security by suggesting that benefits be boosted right now, and then all the debt be repaid by a massive payroll tax hike scheduled to be phased in during the years 2060-2100.

UPDATE: Here's the post in question:

The most innocuous (and the one that I incorrectly thought most people were talking about) is changing the indexing of earnings. For example, if you made $5,000 in 1970, under the wage indexing formula you'd (matthew Yglasias) multiply that number by 5.07 to figure that year's contribution to your AIME. Under CPI indexing you'd multiply by 4.80. For your 1990 earnings you'd multiply by 1.42 instead of 1.62. This is really a modest change. Someone retiring in 2100 would only lose a maximum of the weighted average of the difference between the CPI and wage growth between 2060 and 2100.

However, the "bend points" were set in 1979. Those don't grow. Today's bend points are calculated by scaling up these 1979 values by wage growth between 1979 and today. Changing from wage indexing to price indexing would mean that someone retiring in 2100 would lose an amount proportionate to the difference between the CPI and wage growth between 1979 and 2100. Thanks to compound interest, this difference will grow arbitrarily large over time with the implication that changing the indexing of the "bend points" would eventually totally eliminate Social Security. (translation from Pete): someone born in 2010 will live at 40% of the standard of living in 1979, not 40% of the standard of living in 2080.)

There's the rub.

The Iceberg Cometh

By PAUL KRUGMAN

Published: January 11, 2005ast week someone leaked a memo written by Peter Wehner, an aide to Karl Rove, about how to sell Social Security privatization. The public, says Mr. Wehner, must be convinced that "the current system is heading for an iceberg."

It's the standard Bush administration tactic: invent a fake crisis to bully people into doing what you want. "For the first time in six decades," the memo says, "the Social Security battle is one we can win." One thing I haven't seen pointed out, however, is the extent to which the White House expects the public and the media to believe two contradictory things.

The administration expects us to believe that drastic change is needed, and needed right away, because of the looming cost of paying for the baby boomers' retirement.

The administration expects us not to notice, however, that the supposed solution would do nothing to reduce that cost. Even with the most favorable assumptions, the benefits of privatization wouldn't kick in until most of the baby boomers were long gone. For the next 45 years, privatization would cost much more money than it saved.

Advocates of privatization almost always pretend that all we have to do is borrow a bit of money up front, and then the system will become self-sustaining. The Wehner memo talks of borrowing $1 trillion to $2 trillion "to cover transition costs." Similar numbers have been widely reported in the news media.

But that's just the borrowing over the next decade. Privatization would cost an additional $3 trillion in its second decade, $5 trillion in the decade after that and another $5 trillion in the decade after that. By the time privatization started to save money, if it ever did, the federal government would have run up around $15 trillion in extra debt.

These numbers are based on a Congressional Budget Office analysis of Plan 2, which was devised by a special presidential commission in 2001 and is widely expected to be the basis for President Bush's plan.

Under Plan 2, payroll taxes would be diverted into private accounts while future benefits would be cut. In the short run, this would worsen the budget deficit. In the long run, if all went well, cutting benefit payments would reduce the deficit.

All wouldn't go well; I'll explain why in another column. But suppose that everything went according to plan. Even in that unlikely case, privatization wouldn't even begin to reduce the budget deficit until 2050. This is supposed to be the answer to an imminent crisis?

While we waited 45 years for something good to happen, there would be a real risk of a crisis - not in Social Security, but in the budget as a whole. And privatization would increase that risk.

We already have a large budget deficit, the result of President Bush's insistence on cutting taxes while waging a war. And it will get worse: a rise in spending on entitlements - mainly because of Medicare, but with a smaller contribution from Medicaid and, in a minor supporting role, Social Security - looks set to sharply increase the deficit after 2010.

Add borrowing for privatization to the mix, and the budget deficit might well exceed 8 percent of G.D.P. at some time during the next decade. That's a deficit that would make Carlos Menem's Argentina look like a model of responsibility. It would be sure to cause a collapse of investor confidence, sending the dollar through the floor, interest rates through the roof and the economy into a tailspin.

And when investors started fleeing because they believed that America had turned into a banana republic, they wouldn't be reassured by claims that someday, in the distant future, privatization would do great things for the budget. Just ask the Argentines: their version of Social Security privatization was also supposed to save money in the long run, but all it did was move forward the date of their crisis.

A responsible administration would reverse course on tax cuts and the botched 2003 Medicare drug bill, both of which pose much greater threats to the government's solvency than the modest financial shortfall of the Social Security system. But Mr. Bush has declared his tax cuts inviolable, and he says that his drug bill will actually save money. (The Medicare trustees say it will cost $8 trillion.)

There's an iceberg in front of us, all right. And Mr. Bush wants us to steam right into it, full speed ahead.

Inventing a Crisis By PAUL KRUGMAN (edited by Pete)
Published: December 7, 2004

Privatizing Social Security - replacing the current system, in whole or in part, with personal investment accounts - won't do anything to strengthen the system's finances. It will give $billions to Wall street brokers and add trillions to our debt - if anything making things worse. Nonetheless, the politics of privatization depend crucially on convincing the public that the system is in imminent danger of collapse, that we must destroy Social Security in order to save it. There's nothing strange or mysterious about how Social Security works: it's just a government program supported by a dedicated tax on payroll earnings, just as highway maintenance is supported by a dedicated tax on gasoline.

Right now the revenues from the payroll tax exceed the amount paid out in benefits. This is the result of a payroll tax increase under Reagan - raising a tax that falls mainly on lower- and middle-income families, while cutting the taxes that fall mainly on the very well-off. The extra revenue from the poor would build up a trust fund that could be drawn on to pay benefits once the baby boomers began to retire.

The Social Security “crisis” could be fixed - extending the life of the trust fund into the 22nd century - with additional revenues equal to only 0.54 percent of G.D.P. That's roughly equal to the part of Bush’s cuts that go to people with incomes over $500,000 a year

The federal government as a whole faces a very large financial shortfall because of Bush-Reagan tax cuts focused on the rich. That deficit is approaching 5% of GDP – ten times the size of the social security “Crisis”. But since the politics of “privatization” depend on convincing the public that there is a Social Security crisis, the privatizers focus on the mouse and ignore the elephant.

The Bush administration insists that the Social Security system's current surplus and the trust fund it has been accumulating from the poor is meaningless. Social Security, they say, isn't really an independent entity - it's just part of the federal government. They break the promise of a “lock box” and steal trust funds to cover part of their tax-cut driven deficit. General revenue taxes only pay 68% of current spending without the theft.

If the trust fund is meaningless, that tax increase in the 1980's was nothing but an exercise in class warfare: taxes on working-class Americans went up, taxes on the affluent down, and the workers have nothing to show for their sacrifice.

The same people who claim that Social Security isn't an independent entity when it runs surpluses they can steal also insist that late next decade, when the benefit payments start to exceed the payroll tax receipts, this will represent a crisis - you see, Social Security has its own dedicated financing, and therefore must stand on its own.

There's no honest way anyone can hold both these positions, but very little about the privatizers' position is honest. They come to bury Social Security, not to save it. They aren't sincerely concerned about the possibility that the system will someday fail; they're disturbed by the system's historic success. For Social Security is a government program that works, a demonstration that a modest amount of taxing and spending can make people's lives better and more secure. And that's why the right wants to destroy it.

REAL PROBLEMS vs. FAKE PROBLEMS....Here's a question for all you policy wonks out there: why is George Bush spending all his political energy on trying to privatize Social Security? Is Social Security really the most important problem we have right now? Is it even the most important entitlement program we have right now?

Here's a handy chart comparing Social Security with Medicare. Decide for yourself.

Social Security

Medicare

Current guess about when we start dipping into the trust fund

2018

2010

Current guess about when the trust fund is exhausted

2042

2019

Level of optimism about trust fund

High! Doomsday keeps getting pushed out, from 2029 a decade ago to 2042 today. And the CBO estimates that it's really more like 2050 anyway.

Low! Doomsday was pulled in from 2026 to 2019 just last year. The future of Medicare looks worse today than it did a few years ago.

Current expenditures (2003)

About 4.5% of GDP.

About 2.6% of GDP

Estimated expenditures in 2050

About 6.5% of GDP.

About 9.5% of GDP.

So: Social Security is solvent for several decades at a minimum, and if the economy performs decently it may very well be solvent forever. What's more, the cost of Social Security is only going to increase by 2 points of GDP in the next 50 years. This is not Armageddon.

Medicare, on the other hand, will start dipping into its trust fund in a mere six years. And no one thinks this estimate is going to improve: thanks to skyrocketing healthcare costs, Medicare might very well be in worse shape than we think it is. As a result, the cost of Medicare is likely to increase by a staggering 7 points of GDP over the next 50 years.

Why, then, are we obsessing over Social Security, which is not really that big a deal, and ignoring Medicare, which has serious problems in both the short term and the long term?

As near as I can tell, the answer is twofold. First, Social Security provides Republicans with a chance to introduce a conservative nostrum that they've long pined for: private accounts. We don't need them, and they won't actually do anything to solve whatever problems Social Security might have, but an invented crisis is a good excuse to introduce them anyway. Conversely, there's no way to plausibly pretend that private accounts will save Medicare, so why bother?

Second, Social Security is relatively easy to deal with since it's just a pure funding issue: you can raise taxes, cut benefits, or borrow more. It's pretty simple to grasp.

Conversely, Medicare reform is really, really hard. You've got the same funding issues as Social Security, except much bigger and much closer; and in addition you also have to face up to spiralling healthcare costs. And figuring out a way to contain healthcare costs is a subject that nobody wants to tackle. Not Democrats and definitely not Republicans.

Bottom line: we have one real problem and one fake problem. The fake problem is, well, fake, but it provides a plausible excuse to do something conservatives have long wanted to do anyway. The real problem, on the other hand, is, um, real, but fixing it would take genuine political courage.

So which problem do you think George Bush has decided to tackle?

POSTSCRIPT: On a practical note, I should add that I guess I'm just as glad Bush is ignoring Medicare. It's true that it needs reform, but considering the general level of political corruption and contempt for policy that attends any George Bush "reform," I'd just as soon he left it alone for someone else to worry about.

The Social Security Fear Factor

Published: January 3, 2005

If you've lent even one ear to the administration's recent comments on Social Security, you have no doubt heard President Bush and his aides asserting that a $10 trillion shortfall threatens the retirement system - and the economy itself. That $10 trillion hole is the basis of the president's claim last month that "the [Social Security] crisis is now." It's also the basis of the administration's claim that the cost of doing nothing to reform the system would be far greater than the cost of acting now.

Well, the $10 trillion figure is the closest you can get to pulling a number out of the air. Make that the ether. Starting last year, as the groundwork was being set for the emerging debate, the Social Security trustees took the liberty of projecting the system's solvency over infinity, rather than sticking to the traditional 75-year time horizon. That world-without-end assumption generates the scary $10 trillion estimate, and with it, Mr. Bush's putative rationale for dismantling Social Security in favor of a system centered on private savings accounts. The American Academy of Actuaries, the profession's premier trade association, objected to the change. In a letter to the trustees, the actuaries wrote that infinite projections provide "little if any useful information about the program's long-range finances and indeed are likely to mislead any [nonexpert] into believing that the program is in far worse financial condition than is actually indicated."

As it often does with dissenting professional opinion, the administration is ignoring the actuaries. But that doesn't alter the facts or common sense. If the $10 trillion figure is essentially bogus, so is the claim that Social Security is in crisis. The assertion that doing nothing would be costlier than enacting a privatization plan also turns out to be wrong, by the estimates of Congress's own budget agency.

Over a 75-year time frame, Social Security's shortfall is estimated by the Congressional Budget Office at $2 trillion and by the Social Security trustees at $3.7 trillion, a manageable sliver of the economy in each case. If the shortfall is on the low side, Social Security will be in the black until 2052, when it will be able to pay out 80 percent of the promised benefits. If it is on the high side, the system will pay full benefits until 2042, when it will cover 70 percent.

Contrary to Mr. Bush's frequent assertion that Social Security is constantly imperiled by political meddling, it has in fact been preserved and improved by political intervention throughout its 70-year history, most significantly in 1983. The system could - and should - be strengthened again by a modest package of benefit cuts and tax increases phased in over decades.

Instead, the administration wants workers to divert some of the payroll taxes that currently pay for Social Security into private investment accounts, in exchange for a much-reduced government benefit. To replace the taxes it would otherwise have collected - money it needs to pay benefits to current and near retirees - the government would borrow an estimated $2 trillion over the next 10 years or so and even more thereafter.

In effect, the administration's plan would get rid of the financial burden of Social Security by getting rid of Social Security. The plan shifts the financial risk of growing old onto each individual and off of the government - where it is dispersed among a very large population, as with any sensible insurance policy. In a privatized system, you may do fine, but your fellow retirees may not, or vice versa.

In any event, doing well under privatization is relative. Congress's budget agency analyzed the privatized plan that is widely regarded as the template for future legislation and found that total retirement benefits - including payouts from the private account plus the government subsidy - would be less than under the present system. The amount available from the privatized system was less even after midcentury, when the current system is projected to come up short. It should come as no shock that individual investors might not do as well as hoped. The stock market's historical returns - some 7 percent a year - are predicated on a hypothetical investor who bought an array of stocks in the past, reinvested all dividends, never cashed in and never paid commissions or fees. That's not how investing works in the real world. An especially grave danger is that investors would withdraw their funds before retirement, a pattern that is pronounced in 401(k) plans. It would be politically very difficult to refuse people access to accounts that were sold to them on the premise that they - not the government - would own them.

The Congressional Budget Office analysis also likely understates the costs to individuals of privatizing Social Security. The borrowing that would be needed to establish private accounts could lead to higher interest rates, a weaker dollar and slower economic growth. It is also likely that future tax hikes would be required to cover the interest payments on the additional national debt.

The only hands-down winner would be Wall Street, as fees to manage millions of accounts poured in. (Those fees, not incidentally, would come out of your return.) Current stockholders would also stand to benefit, as increased demand pushed up stock prices, giving existing owners a gain at the expense of newcomers who would be forced to buy high. The affluent, who could afford professional investing advice, would also be advantaged, even though everyone would be taking the same risks.

The zeal over privatization is fueled by the belief of Mr. Bush and his supporters that free-market fixes are appropriate for virtually every problem. That faith is misguided. For a society to be functional and humane, it's not enough that some people have a chance to be rich in old age. Rather, all old people must have the dignity of financial security, and that requires universal coverage.

Social Security is the core tier of old-age support, replacing about a third of preretirement income for a typical retiree and providing inflation-proof income for life - a feature not available in private accounts. Its purpose is not to supplant other retirement investing, but to provide a crucial safety net. Anyone who wants to maintain his or her standard of living into old age must also amass substantial personal savings and investments. To introduce the same risk into the core tier of benefits that already exists for the bulk of one's retirement savings would be as unfair as it is unwise.

If Mr. Bush were not so serious about privatizing Social Security, his urgency would be silly. Compared with other challenges looming for the government, it's a non-problem. The shortfall in the Medicare hospital insurance fund is two to three times the size of the Social Security shortfall, and that fund is projected to be insolvent some two to three decades before Social Security. Taken together, the costs of the Medicare prescription benefit and of making the tax cuts permanent - Mr. Bush's two main domestic initiatives - are 5 to 8.5 times larger. And his hair is on fire over Social Security?

One of the most distressing aspects of the debate over Social Security privatization is that it distracts from more pressing issues and obscures better solutions to the problem of secure retirement. A future editorial will discuss new strategies to increase private savings outside of Social Security that draw on market theory and behavioral economics and are more promising than rehashing the same tired formula of tax-sheltered savings accounts. In the meantime, however, Mr. Bush and his supporters will be pursuing their idée fixe of privatization. It's bad policy. And it's bad politics, too, driven by reflex, ideology and special interests, and sustained by conformism that masquerades as party discipline. Lawmakers who still value their right and obligation to think for themselves - and to act in the best interest of their constituents - must champion solutions that will build on Social Security, not undermine it.

December 1, 2004

THE "ILLUSIONARY" TRUST FUND....There are lots of different ways to look at Social Security funding issues, and pretty much every one of them is jaw droppingly boring. What's more, since the Bush administration is plainly not interested in actual policy issues related to Social Security, it seems not only boring but also pointless to keep yammering away about it.

But yammer we must. So here's one more angle to think about.

Social Security is funded by payroll taxes. In 1983, Alan Greenspan headed up a commission that recommended saving Social Security from imminent doom by raising those payroll taxes to cover expected increases in Social Security payouts. But there was a twist: Greenspan recommended raising payroll taxes above what was required to actually pay current benefits to retirees, with the resulting surplus used to buy treasury bonds that would be piled up each year in Social Security's trust fund. And since these bonds were sold to the trust fund by the federal government, this means that the federal government got a big chunk of extra money every year for use in the general fund.

Under this scheme, payroll taxes were sufficient to cover payouts plus bond purchases until about 2018. Then, from 2018 to 2042, when payroll taxes would no longer be enough to cover payouts, the difference would be made up by cashing in the bonds in the trust fund. In other words, the feds would tap into the general fund to give back all the money that Social Security had handed over between 1983 and 2018. This money would come from the same place all general fund money comes from: income taxes.

Still with me? Here's what this means:

· Between 1983-2018, this plan calls for payroll taxes to be higher than they need to be to cover payouts to retirees. However, because the surplus payroll taxes are handed over to the feds, it means income taxes are lower than they would otherwise be.

· Then, between 2018-2042, payroll taxes will be less than they need to be to pay benefits to retirees. However, the difference will be made up by higher income taxes, which will be used to pay off the trust fund bonds.

Payroll taxes are paid mostly by the middle class and the poor. Income taxes are paid mostly by the well off.

So: for 35 years the middle class and the poor pay excess payroll taxes and the well off get a break on their income taxes. However, for the following 24 years the middle class and the poor get a break on their payroll taxes and the well off finance it by paying higher income taxes.

Now, this may sound like a dumb idea to you, but that was the deal. The bottom 80% take it on the chin for a few decades, followed by a couple of decades in which the well off get socked.

But suppose — as conservatives are laying the groundwork for — that Bush decides the trust fund is a mirage, just a giant IOU from one part of the government to the other. And as part of his "reform" plan he proposes a complex scheme that, when stripped to its essentials, entails doing away with the flim flam of that illusionary trust fund and the higher income taxes it will require when 2018 finally rolls around. What would that mean?

It would mean that the middle class and the poor got suckered into overpaying their taxes for three decades, and then when the bill came due the well off ducked out of their end of the bargain.

Of course, that would be a brazen rip off of the middle class in order to give a break to the well off and the rich. George Bush would never do something like that, would he?

—Kevin Drum 12:31 AM Permalink | TrackBack (3) | Comments (93)


The British Evasion

By PAUL KRUGMAN

Published: January 14, 2005 e must end Social Security as we know it, the Bush administration says, to meet the fiscal burden of paying benefits to the baby boomers. But the most likely privatization scheme would actually increase the budget deficit until 2050. By then the youngest surviving baby boomer will be 86 years old.

Even then, would we have a sustainable retirement system? Not bloody likely.

Pardon my Britishism, but Britain's 20-year experience with privatization is a cautionary tale Americans should know about.

The U.S. news media have provided readers and viewers with little information about how privatization has worked in other countries. Now my colleagues have even fewer excuses: there's an illuminating article on the British experience in The American Prospect, www.prospect.org, by Norma Cohen, a senior corporate reporter at The Financial Times who covers pension issues.

Her verdict is summed up in her title: "A Bloody Mess." Strong words, but her conclusions match those expressed more discreetly in a recent report by Britain's Pensions Commission, which warns that at least 75 percent of those with private investment accounts will not have enough savings to provide "adequate pensions."

The details of British privatization differ from the likely Bush administration plan because the starting point was different. But there are basic similarities. Guaranteed benefits were cut; workers were expected to make up for these benefit cuts by earning high returns on their private accounts.

The selling of privatization also bore a striking resemblance to President Bush's crisis-mongering. Britain had a retirement system that was working quite well, but conservative politicians issued grim warnings about the distant future, insisting that privatization was the only answer.

The main difference from the current U.S. situation was that Britain was better prepared for the transition. Britain's system was backed by extensive assets, so the government didn't have to engage in a four-decade borrowing spree to finance the creation of private accounts. And the Thatcher government hadn't already driven the budget deep into deficit before privatization even began.

Even so, it all went wrong. "Britain's experiment with substituting private savings accounts for a portion of state benefits has been a failure," Ms. Cohen writes. "A shorthand explanation for what has gone wrong is that the costs and risks of running private investment accounts outweigh the value of the returns they are likely to earn."

Many Britons were sold badly designed retirement plans on false pretenses. Companies guilty of "mis-selling" were eventually forced to pay about $20 billion in compensation. Fraud aside, the fees paid to financial managers have been a major problem: "Reductions in yield resulting from providers' charges," the Pensions Commission says, "can absorb 20-30 percent of an individual's pension savings."

American privatizers extol the virtues of personal choice, and often accuse skeptics of being elitists who believe that the government makes better choices than individuals. Yet when one brings up Britain's experience, their story suddenly changes: they promise to hold costs down by tightly restricting the investments individuals can make, and by carefully regulating the money managers. So much for trusting the people.

Never mind; their promises aren't credible. Even if the initial legislation tightly regulated investments by private accounts, it would immediately be followed by intense lobbying to loosen the rules. This lobbying would come both from the usual ideologues and from financial companies eager for fees. In fact, the lobbying has already started: the financial services industry has contributed lavishly to next week's inaugural celebrations.

Meanwhile, there is a growing consensus in Britain that privatization must be partly reversed. The Confederation of British Industry - the equivalent of the U.S. Chamber of Commerce - has called for an increase in guaranteed benefits to retirees, even if taxes have to be raised to pay for that increase. And the chief executive of Britain's National Association of Pension Funds speaks with admiration about a foreign system that "delivers efficiencies of scale that most companies would die for."

The foreign country that, in the view of well-informed Britons, does it right is the United States. The system that delivers efficiencies to die for is Social Security.

Rahm Emmanuel onCSPAN