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Megan McArdle

Megan McArdle

Megan McArdle is the business and economics editor for The Atlantic. She has worked at three start-ups, a consulting firm, an investment bank, a disaster recovery firm at Ground Zero, and the Economist.

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

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

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

Which Party is Better on the Deficit?

I'm seeing a lot of worry that if Republicans take Congress, it will be bad for the deficit, because they're not serious about deficit reduction.  I agree that they aren't serious--but this has less bite than it might, because I've seen little evidence that the Democrats are serious.  An enormous amount of the "Democrats are serious" credibility is borrowed from the Clinton years.  Even crediting Clinton with 100% of that, and the Republican congress with none--an interpretation I think rather farfetched--that was over a decade ago.  What have they done for us lately?

Don't get me wrong, I think that Republicans are deeply, terrifyingly unserious about raising taxes and cutting spending.  But I think that Democrats are also deeply, terribly unserious about doing those things.  I think that Republicans are worse on the tax side, but I think Democrats are worse on the spending side, and it's far from clear to me that on balance, the Democratic position leads to net deficit reduction over the Republican alternative.

Democrats do a lot of talking about the deficit.  But how serious is it?  Take the health care bill. This got a deficit-reducing score from the CBO, which is good.  (Certainly, it could have been worse).  But it did so in a number of ways that don't really make it seem that deficit reduction is a critical Democratic priority.  

For starters, take the 1099 reporting requirement.  This was, almost everyone agrees, a terrible idea--an enormous administrative burden on small businesses and the IRS for a relatively trivial revenue gain.  I suspect that the bill's sponsors knew it was a terrible idea.  The way it was explained to me by a longtime Congressional reporter of my acquaintance is that at any given time, a bunch of revenue raising proposals are floating around the Senate--and a bunch of them are turkeys, dropped from other bills because upon careful consideration, they turned out to have all sorts of unwanted side effects.  Unfortunately, during health care, they needed every revenue measure they could get their hands on, so things like this got jammed in--and passed, because of course no one had actually read the whole thing.

This will have to be undone.  It's quite likely that other, less obviously flawed provisions will also fail--not because mean Republicans vote them down, but because they will simply cause too many problems in practice.  That same reporter--who supported the reform overall--thinks that the Medicare cuts to hospitals and some other providers have basically been pushed to the edge of what's feasible, and perhaps beyond it.  If they have gone too far, they will have to be reversed, because the alternative is declining quality of care, or seniors being turned away from providers who can't afford to take on too many money-losing clients.

Is it fiscally responsible to pass a bill that requires cuts that will quite possibly be unsustainable--again, not because Republicans are irresponsible, but because there is no political will for cutting services to seniors?  I'd argue not.  I understand that you can argue that the bill was desireable for other reasons, but it doesn't add to credibility on the deficit for me.  

Nor am I convinced by the arguments about IPAB, the Medicare advisory committee that is supposed to "bend the cost curve" by recommending cuts.  It may bend the cost curve, if the cuts are politically sustainable.  But it's a high-risk strategy:  there's some chance of cost-curve bending, and also some chance that the cost-cutting is politically unviable, while the spending is locked in.  Progressives and I obviously disagree about the relative risks, here, but please note that the CBO does not weigh those relative risks; it is required to assume that IPAB and the Medicare cuts are implemented as written.  Even relatively small discount for political risk might have radically altered whether the bill reduced the deficit.  To be clear, I do not think the CBO should perform such weighting--but pundits and politicians should.  And a number of officials, including the head of the Center for Medicaid and Medicaid Services, and the head of the CBO, expressed concern that the cost-reducing measures might not be feasible.

But even if the cuts go through, unless IPAB manages an unexpectedly heroic reduction in health care spending, I still think the bill was fiscally irresponsible.  Again, maybe it was morally or economically necessary--we will leave those arguments aside, because for the nonce, the question is whether I trust Democrats on the budget.  The problem is that even if all the Medicare cuts work, we're still left with a really big deficit problem--and we have already "spent" the arsenal of revenue enhancers and spending cuts that would otherwise have been our first line of defense against fiscal disaster.

Imagine that you are a household with some real problem--a lot of kids in a small house, say.  Imagine, too, that your expenses are larger than your annual income--say, outflow exceeds inflow by 5% a year, or $2500 for the average household.  The credit card bills are mounting up, and you are starting to worry about bankruptcy.

Now imagine that your spouse comes to you and says he has a fix for the space problem--you can trade down one of the cars to a beater to get chunk of cash, take out a home equity loan for the rest, and build an addition.  The cost of servicing that debt will add $1,000 a year to the budget, but don't worry--he's figured out that if you take lunches, deliver pizzas once a week, and cancel cable, you can just about make that extra payment.  Indeed, you'll actually be able to put another $7 a month towards those credit cards!

Would a "fiscally responsible" household do that?  To me, that's obviously not fiscally responsible, $7 a month notwithstanding.  The family has taken the most obvious cuts to their budget and used them to fund new spending, rather than close their budget gap.  They still have $2500 a year to go, and now it will be harder, and more painful, to find ways to make ends meet.  Moreover, if anything in the plan goes wrong--say, the pizza place closes, or the beater breaks down and needs to be replaced--you've actually added hundreds of dollars to the household's already looming financial problems.

So while I worry about Republicans passing irresponsible tax cuts, I worry equally about Democrats passing irresponsible spending programs that pay lip-service to the notion of deficit reduction, while in fact making it more likely that America will end up in a crisis.  You can argue that American really needed health care reform, but the Republicans would say the same about tax cuts.  At that point, you're obviously not that interested in the deficit; you're simply saying that the stuff my side wants to do is worth risking the country's financial future, while the stuff the other side wants to do isn't.  Okay, maybe, but that isn't going to make the resulting deficit any less . . . um . . . deficit-like.

So I worry that if Republicans get in, we'll end up with a huge budget problem.  And I also worry that if Democrats retain control, we'll end up with a huge budget problem.  I see no evidence at this point that I should worry more about one than the other.  We have a huge deficit problem.  And I'm pretty sure that whatever batch of politicians we elect next Tuesday is going to make it worse, rather than better.


Why Can't Spammers Write a Coherent Email?

Looking at today's daily dose of spam, I was struck by a question:  why can't spammers write coherently?  This piece is about typical:


I have a good information to share with you.
A while ago,a trading company attractive to me,
the price is very competitive advantage, so I bought some products.
It is very exciting,very pleased when I got and saw my goods.
I think you can go to see: [REDACTED]
you'll save more money in there. e--.
I assume that spam filters have something to do with it, but it ought to be possible to write a better email than that.  So why don't they?

I have two working theories:

1) Spammers use low-wage foreign labor who don't speak English particularly well

2) Many Americans are used to getting real emails that look like this; something correctly punctuated, spelled, and grammaticized would look obviously fake.

Other thoughts?

Can Eliminating a Can of Soda a Day Keep You From Getting Fat?

Kevin Drum ponders an ad claiming that a single sugar-laden soda a day will make you gain ten pounds in a year:

Now, there are a bunch of things you might say about this right from the start. Maybe governments shouldn't be in the business of running nanny state ads about personal nutrition. Maybe this particular ad was disgusting and shouldn't have been released. Maybe obesity isn't really that big a deal in the first place. But those weren't the issues at stake. Rather, it was this single sentence in the ad:
Drinking 1 can of soda a day can make you 10 pounds fatter a year.
What, I thought, could be wrong with that? A can of sugared soda contains about 150 calories, and adding 150 calories a day to your diet would almost certainly produce a ten-pound weight gain over the course of a year or so. There are some caveats, of course:

    • If you cut out 150 calories elsewhere, you won't gain any weight.
    • Your exact weight gain will depend on your age, current weight, etc.
    • If you have a miracle metabolism, you might not gain any weight at all.

This all seems pretty obvious, and while you'd probably mention it in a longer piece, it hardly seems necessary in a 30-second spot. But it turns out the scientists, especially Michael Rosenbaum of Columbia, seemed to think it should all be included. The ad, he said, was "misleading in that there is no reference to energy output changes."

I think there's a subtler problem with the ad.  It treats the soda consumption as completely unrelated to your metabolism, your level of exercise, and so forth. But this is not really the state of the art thinking on calorie consumption.  The "input/output" model of obesity is correct at some level, but it's far too simple.  If you are consistently over your calorie needs by as little as 100 calories a day--the number of calories in a largish slice of bread--you'll gain ten pounds in a year.  If you're under your calorie intake by as little as 100 calories, you'll lose ten pounds in a year.  If adding or subtracting calories like that could actually mechanically produce weight gain or loss, we'd all be obese, or starving to death.

So why doesn't this happen to more people?  We understand it intuitively on the starvation side--if you accidentally go under your calorie count one day, your appetite compensates by making you hungrier.  If you do it too many days in a row, your metabolism slows down.

What most people don't appreciate is that the same thing happens on the other side.  That's probably because in our culture, most of us would like to be eating a little bit less than we are.  But experiments with students and prisoners who deliberately set out to gain weight show that appetite decreases, and metabolism increases, if people consistently overeat.  That's why most of us stay in a relatively stable band, rather than seeing our weight fluctuate wildly.  Gina Kolata argues that most people have a pretty narrow band of weight that their bodies are comfortable in--about 10-30 pounds.  Stay at the low end, and you'll feel a bit hungry; get to the high end, and you may lose some of your interest in food.  But it's actually very hard to bust out of that band on either side.

So while adding a can of soda to your diet and changing absolutely nothing else would indeed make you gain ten pounds, the act of consuming those calories will change other things.  It may supress your appetite for other foods, or your body may boost your metabolism a bit to compensate.

Now, there are some mitigating counterarguments--some people think that soda calories are different from other sorts of calories, because the body doesn't respond to liquid calories the same way as it does to normal foods that come packed with some fiber and fat.  But that's not really the argument the ad is making.  In fact, it suggests drinking low-fat milk instead, which has about the same number of calories as soda.  To be sure, those calories come bundled with things like calcium, which are good for you--but if the 140 calories from a can of Coke are going to make you fat, so will the 120 calories in contained in the same amount of lowfat milk.

Answering to Our Robot Overlords

Nate Silver blogs about the emerging split between robopolls and live-interviewer polls; the former lean much more heavily towards the Republicans than the latter.  This complicates the process of deciding how to weight the polls when building election models.

Believe it or not, there's no particular reason to think that live interviewer polls are more accurate.  Intuitively, it seems like they should be, and indeed, thinks like online polls are usually next to useless because the people who bothered to answer them are not a representative sample of the population.  But neither are voters, exactly--and robopolls may actually select out the motivated voters who are most likely to actually make it to the polls.

We'll know on Tuesday night, one way or another.  But this is going to have implications beyond politics, as politicians are not the only people who want to find out what others think of them.  Changes in American lifestyles, from telecommuting to cell phones to civic engagement, are challenging traditional survey methods.  This is going to affect social science, business, and of course, politicians and the journalists who love to follow them.

Why We Should Eliminate the Corporate Income Tax

The FT has a piece today on the administration's plans to lower the corporate income tax rate in exchange for simplification--getting rid of a bunch of deductions.  This is a decent plan--and not just because it's the Full Employment for Policy Pundits Act of 2011--but this seems like a good time to once again charge into the fray and argue that we ought to just eliminate the damn thing altogether.

I can practically hear my more leftish readers grinding their teeth as they prepare to unload a wagonful of vitriol, but my objectives here are as much liberal as they are conservative.  The corporate income tax is an extraordinarily clumsy vehicle for the social purposes it is supposed to serve--it doesn't raise that much revenue, and it doesn't necessarily fall most heavily on the rich.  There are better ways to serve its progressive goals, at least as I see them--to reallocate income from capital to labor, and from rich to poor.

Why do I say this?  Well, I've been over all this before, many times, but for new readers, it's worth rehearsing the arguments:

You can't tax a corporation; you can only tax a person  For all the talk about corporate personhood, ultimately, all the income in a corporation ultimate ends up in the hands of some person: shareholders, employees, suppliers.  Ultimately, we're not interested in the accumulation of money and power in "Ford Motor Company"; we're interested in the managers and shareholders who benefit from that accumulation.

The incidence of "corporate" taxes is not necessarily progressive.  The "employer half" of the payroll tax, for example, is thought by most economists to fall pretty much entirely on the worker; corporations compensate for the extra cost by lowering the wages they offer.  Taxes on corporate profits are exactly the same for middle class families who have some shares in a 401(k), and multi-millionaire heiresses.

The corporate income tax encourages firms to use debt finance, rather than equity.  Debt finance makes companies riskier.  But because payments on debt are tax deductible, and dividends are not, companies have a strong incentive to use debt rather than equity finance. The deductibility of debt payments also lowers the required rate of return for new projects, possibly encouraging companies to invest in marginal ideas that aren't really worth it.  Without the corporate income tax giving them a 35% reduction on their interest payments, they might think twice.

You can't eliminate all the loopholes  I know what you're thinking:  why don't we end the deductibility of corporate debt payments?  Because that would put industrial firms with heavy capital costs at a massive disadvantage (there are other reasons to use debt, like the ability to match the duration of the financing to the lifespan of the asset).  More to the point, you could easily end up in a situation where tax bills were pushing companies into insolvency. Consider a big industrial firm with $1 million in EBIT (Earnings Before Interest and Taxes) during normal times, and $500,000 in interest payments.  Now say a really horrible recession dramatically lowers their income--to say $400,000.  They're actually burning $100,000 in cash a year--but they'd nonetheless have a tax bill of nearly $150,000 on their "profits".  Hello, receivership. 

Some loopholes really are simply egregious giveaways to particular industries, but more often they're just disagreements over what constitutes a legitimate expense.  If you refuse to let businesses deduct too many legitimate expenses, you'll put a lot of firms into the red.

The corporate income tax encourages firms to waste resources on tax avoidance  In general, taxes are most efficient when they fall on those who have the most difficulty avoiding them.  Big corporations can and do spend an enormous amount of money and human effort transforming their income into more tax-preferred forms--deferring it, moving it, swapping it with entities that have different tax rules, and so forth.  We spend an enormous amount of energy trying to make rules to stop them.  It would be a lot easier to get rid of the thing entirely and focus on getting the money from people, who can't afford quite such large squads of tax attorneys.  This would also correct an obvious flaw in the corporate tax code: it's easier for big companies to afford pricey tax lawyers--and pricey lobbyists to get them special tax breaks.

Moreover, as I hinted above, the rules governing corporations are complicated for a reason--what constitutes an expense is as much art as science, and varies from industry to industry.  (The blizzard of tax rules governing something like a small mining operation make me quite dizzy.)  The rules governing people can be quite a bit simpler, because the basic operating costs of being a human being are pretty standard from person to person.  

I mean, you may think that a large screen television and an annual trip to Tuscany are among life's necessities, but you're not going to get very far arguing that with the IRS.  On the other hand, luxury junkets for the sales force may in fact help a corporation to generate more income than they otherwise would.  All in all, it's a lot simpler to take the money from people.

If we get rid of the corporate income tax, we could eliminate the special treatment for dividends and capital gains.  The reason we currently have the special rates is to offset the "double taxation" of corporate profits.  You can quibble with the term, but the fact remains that a 35% corporate income tax combined with, say, a 43% marginal income tax rate (once we add in the special Medicare surcharges), would be a hell of a disincentive for the very wealthy to invest; you're talking about lowering the projected return on an investment by almost 3/4. There's little question that this would be bad--there's a reason that not even Sweden attempts to levy those sorts of taxes on capital.  But if we get rid of the corporate income tax, we can simply roll capital income into ordinary income--which means that we'll be taxing corporate income more progressively.  The taxes on corporate profits will fall most heavily on wealthy people.

There are already substantial disincentives to shelter your income in a corporation  Every time I suggest this, I get a lot of people arguing that people would simply funnel all their expenses through a corporation, and avoid paying income taxes.  These people are unaware that there are already substantial reasons to do this now, because corporations can deduct all sorts of things that people can't--rent, cars, utilities, non-mortgage interest payments, and so forth.  So why don't people do this?  

Because the IRS won't let them, that's why.  While owners of corporations do manage to chisel at the margins, the smart ones don't funnel their whole personal budget through the firm, because doing so is a sure route to an audit and a hefty fine.  You can argue that we need to beef up the rules, and maybe we do.  But there's no reason to worry about wholesale abuses of the system, because the IRS is already reasonably adept about ferreting these out.

The corporate income tax doesn't raise that much money  It's not nothing--about $300 billion. But we could recoup a whole lot of that simply by taxing dividends and capital gains as ordinary income, and perhaps tweaking top rates.  That might be a bargain conservatives would go for.

Without the corporate income tax, a lot of the incentive for lobbying would go away  Not all of it, by any means--I am not trying to paint some halcyon future here.  But an enormous amount of effort goes into lobbying for tax laws, and politicians often reward favored constituent businesses with little sweetheart fillips to the tax code. Conversely, apparently neutral changes to the tax code often turn out to be excellent ways to hamstring your competition, particularly small businesses who cannot afford a huge tax department.

 Want to get corporate money out of politics?  Want to erode the power of the Chamber of Commerce?  Take away one of their primary motives to get involved.

I don't say this will persuade everyone.  But I hope that liberals will at least consider that there might be a better way than the corporate income tax to achieve their goals.
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Fake Wyeth Unmasked

Meticulous recordkeeping, combined with modern technology, catches forgery.  But sadly, not the forger.

Ghostly Figures

From our Tech channel, the first photograph of a human being.  There's something incredibly disconcerting about contemplating this image and reflecting on the missing people:

The photo, shown below, was taken by the inventor of the Daguerreotype himself, Louis Daguerre, on the streets of Paris in 1838. Hokumburg claims, in his post, that this is the first photograph of a human being.

HumanPhoto.jpg

The image, haunting in its absence of, well, life, reminds me of Abelardo Morell's long-exposure digital photographs, a modern-day play on old technology. One of the first photographic processes, the daguerreotype required very long exposures to form an image on the surface of a silver plate. It's likely that this was a busy street at the time, but because the image would have taken several minutes to form, only the figure standing still -- getting his boots shined? -- shows up.

Early Voting May Depress Voter Turnout

The idea behind early voting is that by making it easier for people to vote, you will ensure that more people do so.  Somewhat surprisingly, in the real world, it may not be working out that way:


Our research, conducted with our colleagues David Canon and Donald Moynihan at the University of Wisconsin, is based on a three-part statistical analysis of the 2008 presidential election. First, we analyzed voting patterns in each of the nation's 3,100 counties to estimate the effect of early voting laws on turnout. We controlled for a wide range of demographic, geographic and political variables, like whether a county was in a battleground state.

Controlling for all of the other factors thought to shape voter participation, our model showed that the availability of early voting reduced turnout in the typical county by three percentage points,. Consider, as an example, a county in Kentucky, which lacks early voting. If we compared this to a similar county in neighboring Tennessee, which permits early voting, we would observe, other things being equal, turnout that was 3 points lower.

Next, we studied the data on more than 70,000 voters and nonvoters from the Census Bureau's Current Population Survey, which asks respondents whether they voted. Once again, we employed a statistical model to control for demographic variables like education and race as well as geographic and political factors. The model showed that an individual living in a state with early voting had a probability of voting that was four points lower than a comparable voter in a state without early voting.

Third, we took advantage of a useful feature of the census survey, which asks individuals whether they voted early or on Election Day. We examined the characteristics of voters and nonvoters, and found that the profiles of early voters and election day voters were mostly similar.

With one big exception: our model forecast that early voters had profiles that made them two percentage points more likely to vote than Election Day voters, whether there was an early option or not. Early voters were more educated and older and had higher incomes, all traits associated with a higher probability of voting. A probability difference of 2 percentage points may seem like a trivial figure, but when applied to populations of millions, it can shift national and state elections.

Even with all of the added convenience and easier opportunities to cast ballots, turnout not only doesn't increase with early voting, it actually falls. How can this be?

It turns out that early voting mitigates the impact of get-out-the-vote mechanisms, and it also diminishes the impact of "Election Day".  Voting used to be a public act of civic engagement, with all sorts of activity focused around election day, from exhortatory news stories to social pressure from the sight of neighbors trudging to the poll.  One way to think about it is that voting signals something about you to others in the community, but with the advent of early voting, that signal is no longer so powerful:  someone who doesn't turn up on election day might not have voted, or they might simply have gotten it out of the way weeks before.

This isn't perhaps quite as surprising as it seems.  Dan Ariely's book discussed a pre-school in Israel where a day care center started charging a fee for parents who were late picking up their children, only to see the number of late pick-ups rise--apparently once there was a fee, parents no longer felt guilty about being late.  The day care then rescinded the fee, but the norm--"don't pick up your kids late" had already been broken; now parents simply concluded that there was no penalty at all, and the problem became even worse.

Economists like to say "incentives matter", but we need to be careful that we understand what peoples' incentives are before we try to change them.

The Role of the Elite

Jim Manzi has an absolutely outstanding post on the role of elites in public life.  It's not well understood, at least by Americans, that for many of the issues on which Europe and America are arguably quite divided, the general population isn't that divided at all.  Attitudes towards the death penalty and climate change aren't that different between the ordinary citizens of the two continents; they may not even be that different among the elites.  The difference is, in Europe, the elites have a much stronger role in shaping policy.

This inspired Ezra Klein to blog in defense of elites, and to an extent I think he's right.  But I'm much more skeptical of elites than Ezra is, for a number of reasons.  The first is that, as Manzi says, the elites aren't quite as smart as they think they are:

But I think this raises the crucial question in this debate: What is the valid scope of expertise?

In the case of climate change, there is actual scientific knowledge about the properties of CO2, but advocates of emissions mitigation schemes constantly attempt to drape the mantle of science, or more broadly expert knowledge, around public policy positions that, as I have argued many times, do not follow even from the core technical reports produced by the asserted experts.

Bill Buckley famously said that he "would rather by governed by the first 2,000 names in the Boston telephone directory than by the Harvard faculty." So would I. But I would rather fly in an airplane with wings designed by one competent aeronautical engineer than one with wings designed by a committee of the first 20,000 names of non-engineers in the Boston phonebook. The value of actual expertise in a technical field like wing design outweighs the advantages offered by incorporating multiple points of view.

The essential Progressive belief that Klein expresses in undiluted form is that crafting public policy through legislation is a topic for which, in simplified terms, the benefits of expertise outweigh the benefits of popular contention. Stated more cautiously, this would be the belief that the institutional rules of the game should be more heavily tilted toward expert opinion on many important topics than they are in the U.S. today.

This would be a lot more compelling if the elites didn't have such a terrible track record of producing social interventions that work.

An aeronautical engineer can predict reliably that "If you design a wing like this, then this plane will be airworthy, but if you design it like that, then it will never get in the air." If you were to build a bunch of airplanes according to each set of specifications, you would discover that he or she is almost always right. This is actual expertise. I've tried to point out many times that the vast majority of program interventions fail when subjected to replicated, randomized testing.

Our so-called experts in public policy talk a good game, but in the end are no experts at all. They build castles of words, and call it knowledge.


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Buffett Names a Successor, Maybe

So Warren Buffett has finally named his successor--or at least, told us who's leading the running.  His name is Todd Combs, a 39-year old hedge fund manager from Darien, Connecticut who got the (sort-of) job the old-fashioned way:  he applied for it.  Very little is known about him beyond some broad biographical details, and the recent performance of his fund.

There's been more than a little professed surprise, but this doesn't surprise me at all--Warren Buffett is, after all, the guy with a fetish for the unrecognized, undervalued asset.  It seems only natural that he's plucked someone from relative obscurity--and whatever else you say about this guy, he certainly does seem to have a passion for value investing.

I doubt, however, that that will be enough to reproduce--or extend--Buffett's success.  The lure of value investing is that all you need is common sense, hard work, and the courage to resist your own greed, but in fact, Buffett's intelligence is really singular.  Reading his thoughts on the bubble in 1999, you're struck not merely by his courage in naming the bubble, but his ability to crystallize such an incisive critique of the prevailing zeitgeist.  Moreover, the kinds of stock values that made Buffett rich are thin on the ground these days--the proliferation of screening tools, and other sorts of company information, means that few people are able to make money simply by identifying "hidden gems".  Buffett has survived through a combination of unique vision, good management, and the magical effect of the Buffett name on the investments he does choose to make.  It's going to be hard to impart that to a successor.

Indeed, given his previous thoughts on the matter, I kind of wonder why he's doing this now. Several years ago, I attended the Berkshire Hathaway annual meeting in Omaha, and Buffett had this to say about his succession:

"If we had a good way to inject someone into some role that would make them a better CEO of Berkshire, we'd do it, but the candidates we have right now are running businesses, making decisions, getting experience. To bring them in to the Berkshire offices while I'm sitting there reading would be a waste of talent."
One theory is that it was to reassure his investors that he has a plan--but if so, it backfired; shares fell about 1% on the news.

Does Buffett think he can train this guy?  Does he think the end is near?  Or is there some more complicated logic I'm not seeing?
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Kindle Allows Readers to Lend Their Books

One of the complaints I hear a lot from people who are resistant to the Kindle is that they can't borrow or lend the books they buy.  It looks like that's about to change:  Amazon is now enabling lending, albeit with some restrictions:

The capability, which will be introduced later this year, will let buyers of Kindle e-books lend their Amazon e-book purchases just once, for a period of 14 days. (And just like an old-fashioned book, the lender cannot read their own book while it is virtually in the hands of a friend.) Sharing will work for both Kindle device owners and users of Kindle apps on other gadgets, like the iPad and iPhone. There's a catch. Not all of the company's 720,000 e-books will be lendable. "This is solely up to the publisher or rights holder, who determines which titles are enabled for lending," said Amazon in its announcement.

I doubt that this is the final form that lending will take; new features like this are usually amended through a series of expansions and contractions before they settle into a stable set of rules.

It's interesting to think through what this means.  On the one hand, this will cut into sales a little bit--now two readers can enjoy each ebook, rather than one.  On the other hand, the ability to lend vastly increases the network effects of e-readers--and Amazon, with the biggest selling model, is likely to benefit from this the most.  Moreover, by breaking down one of the major objections to buying, this may encourage a wider audience to finally invest.

I'd expect to see some changes to support this:  library licenses with special borrowing privileges, perhaps, while publishers withhold borrowing rights on hot new releases.

The thing I'd like most--though I admit this is highly unlikely--is the ability to give away one's Kindle books permanently, with one's notes in the margins.  One could envision centuries old ebooks with talmudic collections of notes--with the price of the book rising according to the quality of previous owners.  I don't say this is very likely, mind you.  But it would be very neat.

How Important Is Congress to the DC Economy?

I was running late last night, forcing me to catch a cab outside the Watergate around six.  Normally, there's a decent wait for cabs around then, as there's a lot of demand.  But last night, there were four or five drivers who had obviously been parked there for a while, because they'd gotten out of their cars and were smoking and chatting.

"Slow night?" I asked the driver.

"Very slow." He said.

"is it slow here at the Watergate, or slow everywhere?"

"Slow everywhere!" he said.  "Congress is out of session."

Which is, if you think about it, rather extraordinary.  The daytime population of the District is about a million people, of which about 400,000 are commuters coming in from the suburbs.  The sudden disappearance of 535 congressmen shouldn't have such an enormous effect on the number of taxis taken, even if they take all their staffers with them.  

Yet it isn't just the taxis; restaurants experience slowdowns, and my commuter friends tell me that traffic is noticeably better when Congress is out of session.  This suggests what an enormous volume of secondary and tertiary transactions those 535 people must be driving.  When people aren't flying in from town to meet with their congressmen, taxis are plentiful and it's easy to score a seat at the hot new restaurant.  When they're back, we DC residents have to eat at home and take the bus.  There's a metaphor in there, somewhere--or at the very least, an interesting little insight into the local economy.

Charity Begins at the Home Page

I know, I know--after this post, I will swear off the Henry Farrell blogging.  But this is really too extraordinary to pass up.  This is Henry Farrell on why he ought to read me more:

(I don't think she cares whether she is right on the facts or not, because she deeply and truly believes that she is correct in some Platonic sense). This results in some genuinely pernicious writing, that is nonetheless quite influential - and while I'm not especially influential myself, I think that I have to do my bit, and probably should be doing it more than I do do it.
This in the comments to a post in which Henry Farrell accused me of rank hypocrisy by juxtaposing something I wrote yesterday with something that I wrote close on eight years ago.  Mr. Farrell was unaware that I had publicly retracted these remarks, and apologized for them, two years ago.  

Did he "care whether he was right on the facts or not"?  It seems to me that if he had, he might have taken the elementary step of asking me, before he wrote the post, whether I still supported what I wrote all those years ago.  At the very least, he might have thought, "well, eight years is a long time and there's always a small chance that she's changed her mind", and hedged a little, rather than launching the all-out frontal sarcasm assault.

When his error was pointed out, rather than simply graciously admit that he had misjudged me in this instance, he resorted to talmudic readings of what I said in the comments thread to that long-ago post, rather than tender an apology.  Yet no matter how you read those comments--and I think Henry is reading them extremely selectively--that doesn't really change the fact that I already said years ago that I oughtn't to have written it.  Is this the shining example of "caring whether one is right on the facts" that I am supposed to emulate? 

You'd think he'd have at least interspersed a few posts between mote and beam . . . 

But of course, we all do this.  It's so easy to see the faults in people we dislike, even as we ignore them in ourselves.  I'm reminded of something I blogged a while back, writing about Obama's controversial speech on race.  It's a passage from C.S. Lewis on what it means to "love thy neighbor", and I wish that commentators--including me--would take it to heart more often.

. . . we might try to understand exactly what loving your neighbour as yourself means. I have to love him as I love myself. Well, how exactly do I love myself? 
Now that I come to think of it, I have not exactly got a feeling of fondness or affection for myself, and I do not even always enjoy my own society. So apparently "Love your neighbour" does not mean "feel fond of him" or "find him attractive". I ought to have seen that before, because, of course, you cannot feel fond of a person by trying. Do I think well of myself, think myself a nice chap? Well I am afraid I sometimes do (and those are, no doubt, my worst moments) but that is not why I love myself. In fact it is the other way round: my self-love makes me think myself nice, but thinking myself nice is not why I love myself. So loving my enemies does not apparently mean thinking them nice either. That is an enormous relief. For a good many people imagine that forgiving your enemies means making out that they are really not such bad fellows after all, when it is quite plain that they are. Go a step further. In my most clear-sighted moments not only do I not think myself a nice man, but I know that I am a very nasty ones. I can look at some of the things I have done with horror and loathing. So apparently I am allowed to loathe and hate some of the things my enemies do. Now that I come to think of it, I remember Christian teachers telling me long ago that I must hate a bad man's actions, but not hate the bad man: or, as they would say, hate the sin but not the sinner. 
 For a long time I used to think this a silly, straw-splitting distinction: how could you hate what a man did and not hate the man? But years later it occurred to me that there was one man to whom I had been doing this all of my life--namely myself. However much I might dislike my own cowardice or conceit or greed, I went on loving myself. There had never been the slightest difficulty about it. In fact the very reason why I hated the things was that I loved the man. Just because I loved myself, I was sorry to find that I was the sort of man who did those things. Consequently, Christianity does not want us to reduce by one atom the hatred we feel for cruelty and treachery. We ought to hate them. Not one word of what we have said about them needs to be unsaid. But it does want us to hate them in the same way in which we hate things in ourselves: being sorry that the man should have done such things, and hoping, if it is anyway possible, that somehow, sometime, somewhere he can be cured and made human again.
I really do think that we would go farther if we were more charitable to our opponents.  There are very few people in the world who are simply mean and deliberately ignorant, and telling ourselves otherwise is simply flattering our own vanity: our opponents must be awful people, because otherwise they couldn't possibly oppose our wise and wonderful plans.  

I'm not speaking specifically about Henry here--I don't think it much matters whether he likes me, or I him.  But this is really what I was trying to get at the other day, when I blogged about all the anger on the web.  Maybe it's not very novel, but for whatever reason, it bothers me more right now.  And what bothers me more is that people seem to spend so much time looking to get angry--or so I judge by what blogs, and blog posts, succeed.  

It seems to me that I see less in the way of novel argumentation on many blogs, and more in the way of tu quoques, exhortations against "the stupidest/most evil person alive", and lengthy back-patting exchanges in which bloggers and commenters reassure themselves that they really kicked some ass in that last argument.  The ass-kicking--the argumentation--is pretty secondary, and indeed, the amount of high-fiving doesn't actually seem to be related to the quality of the argument that preceded it.  Hell, the other side is usually busy congratulating each other because they totally eviscerated 'em.  

If the other side is unaware that you've won, your victory can't be too compelling.  And so I rather feel that the winning isn't even the point; the real point is simply to be able to tell your fellow travellers that we beat them.  And moreover, that this victory was a small step in a crucial cosmic battle, because they are really dreadful slime, full of stupidity and malice.

Hence, as Tyler Cowen and Robin Hanson have been noting, the prevalence of arguments that don't really make any constructive point at all; they seem mostly designed to decrease the relative status of the other group.  It's like eighth grade, with white papers.  

How many of us liked eighth grade the first time around?  Not many, I'd wager, so I'm not sure why we're so eager to repeat the tiresome status games.

I'm certainly imperfect in this regard, but I'm trying to do better.  It don't think it should be impossible to have a blog world with a little more charity, and a little less bile.

Update:  Henry makes fun of my last name, then moves onto a lengthier post in which he details my many sins, which appear to include having been wrong, and not thinking that I was wrong.  Also, I occasionally make poor word choices, and then correct them, which I shouldn't do, and which proves that I cannot be trusted; I believe the implication is that I should not attempt to wriggle out of what I said by (charitably) clarifying or (uncharitably) changing my mind, since it would be much better if I just stuck to the awful thing that Henry thinks I said--but I am quite possibly being unkind.  Also, when I wrote my apology two years ago, for a piece that I wrote eight years ago, I could not find the original piece that the older post had linked, and worked off of my memory of it, and Henry who has been clever enough to find it, does not think that this hazy memory is an accurate description.  Somehow this entirely invalidates my statement that I shouldn't have written the damn post in the first place.

I think that is an accurate summary, but I am probably leaving something out, so go read the whole thing yourself; I haven't the strength to do it again. 

Mental Health Break

How Not to Stop a Protester

From the descriptions on the blogs I read, I was expecting something much worse.  But this is quite bad enough:




There's no excuse for trying to attack someone for the hideous crime of attempting to embarass your candidate.  If you want to get between her and him, fair enough.  I might even countenance sign-stealing.  But hurling someone to the ground and stepping on her head to keep her from moving is thuggery.

I think it's ludicrous to hold Rand Paul responsible for this, but nonetheless, he needs to be outspoken in his denunciation of what happened. Political violence against people carrying signs is not okay.  Yes, conservatives, I understand that there is a lot of hypocrisy coming from folks who were making excuses for Martha Coakley when one of her employees attacked a journalist, but see this as the second coming of the Hitler Youth.  Two wrongs, however, do not make a right, and in this case, by normalizing physical aggression when it comes from the "right side", they make an even greater wrong.

Violent Rhetoric, Then and Now

Henry Farrell writes:


Megan McArdle 2010 vintage

I thought it was pretty creepy when Jon Chait described another liberal journalist, Michael Kinsley, another journalist, as "curb stomping" economist Greg Mankiw for, yes, daring to suggest that higher marginal tax rates might have incentive effects. Woo-hoo! But why stop with curb-stomping? Wouldn't it be fun to pile ten-thousand gleaming skulls of supply-siders outside the Heritage Offices? We could mount Art Laffer's head on a rotating musical pike that plays The Stars and Stripes Forever! Then, in the most hilarious surprise ending of all, the mob could turn on Jon Chait, douse him with gasoline and set him on fire, and then sack the offices of the New Republic!

Megan McArdle 2003 vintage

So I was chatting about this with a friend of mine, a propos of the fact that everyone I know in New York is a) more frightened than they've been since mid-September 2001 and b) madly working on keeping up the who-the-hell-caresif -Iget-hit-by-a-truck? insouciance that New Yorkers feel is their sole civic obligation. Said friend was, two short years ago, an avowed pacifist and also a little bit to the left of Ho Chi Minh. And do you know what he said? "Bring it on."
I can't be mad at these little dweebs. I'm too busy laughing. And I think some in New York are going to laugh even harder when they try to unleash some civil disobedience, Lenin style, and some New Yorker who understands the horrors of war all too well picks up a two-by-four and teaches them how very effective violence can be when it's applied in a firm, pre-emptive manner.

I'm afraid I'm not quite bright enough to understand why kerb-stomping-as-a-metaphor for-argumentative-victory is creepy and unfunny, while actually beating up war-protesters with bits of lumber is hee-LAIRIUS. Perhaps someone can tease out the nuances for me in comments.

One of his commenters notes: "Looks like McArdle used her time machine to respond to this post a couple of years ago."  Like so many of his students, Henry's problem isn't that he isn't bright; it's that he doesn't do his homework thoroughly.

Indeed, Henry Farrell's response is exactly what I was talking about; maybe that's why it rubbed him the wrong way.  Did it engage with an argument?  No it did not.  It was the opposite of charitable, because its point wasn't to investigate the question; it was to make me look foolish.  Naturally, therefore, Henry gathered only information that made me look bad, rather than checking to see whether there was any disconfirming evidence out there.

Below the fold, the entirety of that post from several years ago; you can decide for yourself which one of us has been selective in their reading of the other side.


More »

Mental Health Break

Australian group that makes unlikely basketball shots.  I don't know why I find this so charming, but I just do.


Explaining the Anger That Consumes Debate on the Web

From Scientific American, on "taboo trade-offs":

What truly distinguishes sacred values from secular ones is how people behave when asked to compromise them. When people are asked to trade their sacred values for values considered to be secular--what psychologist Philip Tetlock refers to as a "taboo tradeoff"--they exhibit moral outrage, express anger and disgust, become increasingly inflexible in negotiations, and display an insensitivity to a strict cost-benefit analysis of the exchange. What's more, when people receive monetary offers for relinquishing a sacred value, they display a particularly striking irrationality. Not only are people unwilling to compromise sacred values for money--contrary to classic economic theory's assumption that financial incentives motivate behavior--but the inclusion of money in an offer produces a backfire effect such that people become even less likely to give up their sacred values compared to when an offer does not include money. People consider trading sacred values for money so morally reprehensible that they recoil at such proposals.
For me, this resonates with my growing disgust at the level of anger in the blogosphere. I don't mean irritation, pointed jibes, or even spirited discussion; I mean an aggressive revelling in rage. I notice it much more on left wing sites, but that's because I basically refuse to read angry right-wing sites, so I don't know what's going on there.

My disgust crytallized in the affair of Todd Henderson.  Not merely the number of people who felt compelled--indeed, incentivized--to dump all over a guy who engaged in the time-honored practice of complaining about high taxes.  Rather, it was the way that posts about Henderson were linked.  "X delivers a smackdown . . . "  "Y straps a rocket to his ass and sends him into orbit . . . " and so forth.  Whatever the authors of those posts had intended, what their commenters and readers seemed to glory in was not the argument, but the opportunity to vent some rage at people with whom they vehemently disagreed.  

It's one thing to be angry; it's another when anger is the main force that binds a group together.  Call me a vaporing language nanny, but I thought it was pretty creepy when Jon Chait described another liberal journalist, Michael Kinsley, another journalist, as "curb stomping" economist Greg Mankiw for, yes, daring to suggest that higher marginal tax rates might have incentive effects.  Woo-hoo!  

But why stop with curb-stomping?  Wouldn't it be fun to pile ten-thousand gleaming skulls of supply-siders outside the Heritage Offices?  We could mount Art Laffer's head on a rotating musical pike that plays The Stars and Stripes Forever!  Then, in the most hilarious surprise ending of all, the mob could turn on Jon Chait, douse him with gasoline and set him on fire, and then sack the offices of the New Republic!

Somehow, that's not actually funny.  Neither is curb stomping, as Ezra Klein pointed out.

I'll reiterate that this is not a "left wing blogs are angry and evil" post; I have no opinion about which side is worse, and I've never seen such arguments offer much in the way of convincing empirical data, beyond the evidence that whoever is making them really, really hates the other side.  The example is an illustration, not a political indictment.  I sense it going on on all sides of me, and it bothers me. A lot.

But perhaps it is explicable in an era when the federal budget is finally close to riding off the rails.  With Social Security and Medicare nudging into deficit, and the government's share of GDP already pretty high, we're fighting over a lot of taboo trade-offs, in a context where we can't help but bring money into it.  The result is the rage of people who cannot bear to see their sacred ideals profaned--and worse, to see the profaners walking around apparently happy.  Only a primal scream of outrage will do.

Gentrification and its Discontents

I see that my post on gentrification has attracted some more-in-sorrow-than-in-anger finger wagging from Alex Baca, an intern at the City Paper, who writes at Greater Greater Washington:


I've complained before that McArdle takes a rather reductionist and simplistic view towards gentrification, and her latest piece is no exception. She boils gentrification down to middle-class (and likely white) buyers moving in, displacing poor (and likely African American) residents. Note that she does not specify whether she believes her neighbors do or do not own their homes. Neighborhood change, whether it's gentrification or not, extends far beyond this assumed black/white binary -- especially in cities other than DC.

I confess, the supercilious tone of the post makes me smile a bit--how could I possibly be so simplistic and reductive when she's already complained about it?  But when I was a senior in college, I was also lucky enough to know everything, and I remember how impatient this made me with the reactionary geriatrics who couldn't see the obvious.  So I do retain a smidgen of sympathy for her plight.

But I can't say the same for her argument.  It seems a bit odd to complain that I have reduced a discussion about gentrification in DC to the specifics of gentrification in DC, rather than exploring the full symphony of themes, dilemmas and opportunities presented by "neighborhood change".  This was a blog post, after all, not an urban planning tome.  I might as well respond to Ms. Baca by complaining that her post didn't mention anything about traffic management in Lyon.

Nor am I clear on why it matters whether my neighbors own their homes--as in most places, some do and some don't.  Those who are homeowners, and don't mind moving, will get a nice boost to their home prices if gentrification continues.  On the other hand, those who are homeowners, and don't want to move, may well not enjoy all the fruits of gentrification.  "Neighborhood change" disrupts existing social and commerce networks, whether or not you own your home.   As someone who still makes regular pilgrimmages to "my" neighborhood pizza place (now relocated five blocks north of my childhood home in New York), I am sympathetic to those who resist it.

And of course, when that "change" is gentrification, it also raises property taxes beyond what some people may be able to afford.

Nonetheless, I think it's useful to respond, because she highlights a lot of the problems I find in discussing urban planning with people who think that . . . well, that acknowledging the poor track record of technocratic interventions is simplistic and reductive.

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The Gentrifier's Lament

So having finally closed on the house, we're living in what is euphemistically known as a "mixed" neighborhood, where poor black residents who have lived there for a generation or more exist somewhat uncomfortably side-by-side with more affluent whites who are drawn to the relatively cheap rents and lovely Victorian housing stock.  The tensions thus built up are played out in many places, notably local politics, where a recent attempt by a local cafe to get a liquor license triggered many of the arguments that we heard after Adrian Fenty's loss in the mayoral race.


Yesterday, I rode the bus for the first time from the stop near my house, and ended up chatting with a lifelong neighborhood resident who has just moved to Arizona, and was back visiting family.  We talked about the vagaries of the city bus system, and then after a pause, he said, "You know, you may have heard us talking about you people, how we don't want you here.  A lot of people are saying you all are taking the city from us.  Way I feel is, you don't own a city."  He paused and looked around the admittedly somewhat seedy street corner.  "Besides, look what we did with it.  We had it for forty years, and look what we did with it!"

I didn't know quite what to say.  It's true that for a variety of historical reasons--most prominently, the 1968 riots that devastated large swathes of historically black DC--our neighborhood has more in the way of abandoned buildings than retail.  And I'm hardly going to endorse the gang violence about which he presently discoursed at length.  But the reason we moved into our neighborhood is that we want to live in a place that's affordable, and economically and racially mixed.  We don't want to take the city from them; we just want to live there too.  Perhaps I should have said that.

Oh, I'm quite sure that there are white people who are impatiently waiting for all the black residents to be forced out (except for the affluent ones), just as a few neighborhood old timers have been known to throw bottles at hipsters.  But at least in my hearing, that has been far from a majority sentiment, on either side.  It seems as if there ought to be some way to make it work.

But then, I am largely in agreement with a perceptive essay by Benjamin Schwartz that appeared in our pages a few months ago, arguing that the neighborhood I want to live in doesn't exist--or at least not for long:


Thanks to the profound influence that The Death and Life of Great American Cities has exerted, the West Village circa 1960 has come to epitomize--really to be the blueprint for--the urban good life. But in its mix of the new and the left over, in its alchemy of authenticity, grit, seedy glamour, and intellectual and cultural sophistication, this was a neighborhood in a transitional and unsustainable, if golden, moment. Which meant that it was about to lose its soul. Two recently published books, Wrestling with Moses, by Anthony Flint, and Manhattan Projects, by Samuel Zipp, detail how the working class was driven out of the West Village, as gentrifiers like Jacobs drove up assessed values and rents. Progressive, reformist city planners, supported by seemingly most of the Village's blue-collar residents, favored a relatively low-impact urban-renewal scheme to build hundreds of below-market-rate homes in the neighborhood--a plan Jacobs and a group of largely affluent residents successfully fought on the grounds that it would destroy the area's character. Whatever the merits of the opposing positions, one of the proponents of renewal was surely prophetic in arguing in 1961, "If the Village area is left alone ... eventually the Village will consist solely of luxury housing This trend is already quite obvious and would itself destroy any semblance of the Village that [Jacobs and her allies] seem so anxious to preserve."

Thanks in no small part to the fact that Jacobs's recipe for livable and vibrant cities--keep the scale small, preserve the physical fabric of neighborhoods--has become, Zipp says, "the lingua franca of planners and city lovers," the physical appearance of Jacobs's old neighborhood (a place where I lived and worked in the mid-1990s) is much as it was. But its character is unrecognizable. The hardware store's building, Zukin reports, now houses the New York branch of a small Chicago chain that describes itself as a purveyor of "hip designer maternity clothes"; in 2008 the ground floor of Jacobs's former home contained City Cricket, which sold "one-of-a kind, hand-made, antique treasures for children."

The same processes created--and, as Sorkin and Zukin would have it, destroyed--contemporary SoHo, Tribeca, and the East Village. In their analyses of each, it's clear that they pine for--and mistake as susceptible to preservation--the same sort of transitional moment Jacobs evokes in Death and Life, when an architecturally interesting enclave holds in ephemeral balance the emerging and the residual. Such neighborhoods still contain a sprinkling of light industry and raffish characters, for urban grit, and a dash of what Zukin calls "people of color," for exotic diversity. Added to the mélange are lots and lots of experimental artists (for that boho frisson) and a generous but not overwhelming portion of right-thinking designers, publishing types, architects, and academics, and the one-of-a kind boutiques and innovative restaurants that will give them places to shop and brunch.

Neither writer seems to apprehend the inherently impermanent nature of this balance, because neither writer comprehends large-scale economic processes. For instance, in railing against the passing of SoHo's exhilarating, creative days--characterized by "the mix of artists, crafts-people, small manufacturers, researchers [!], as well as of commerce oriented to their needs" (a few funky bars for the artists; places like the collectively run restaurant Food)--Sorkin joins in the lamentation for "the rapid decline of the city's industrial economy." He doesn't recognize that the SoHo he yearns for was precisely the product of that rapid industrial decline, which made economically available to artists and their hangers-on all those cool industrial spaces that in more industrially vibrant times would have been used by, well, industry.

Zukin declares that she "resent[s] everything Starbucks represents," which really means that her urban ideal is the cool neighborhood at the moment before the first Starbucks moves in, an ever-more-fleeting moment. Indeed, what has changed since Jacobs's day--and the reason, as these books attest, that gentrification has become so intense an issue--is the speed of the transition of districts from quasi dereliction to artsy to urban shopping mall. This acceleration results from the ways consumption has become the dominant means of self-expression (Zukin is perceptive on this point) and from--relatedly, ultimately--the acceleration of the global economy.

When I say I'm in agreement, I mean empirically, not philosophically.  I watched the process in the mixed-income neighborhood I grew up in, which was liberally dotted with housing projects, old tenements, and lots and lots of stores that served poor people.  Eventually, only the housing projects were left, marooned on little islands amid a tidal wave of affluence that had even swept the residents out of the seventh-floor walk-ups built when Victoria was still on the British throne.  There was virtually nowhere for the residents of the housing projects to shop or eat, as all the markets and restaurants had at least doubled in (real) price and changed their mix of goods to cater to investment bankers, not single mothers making $28,000 a year.  The financial crisis temporarily halted the process, leaving some lower-income retail on Amsterdam Avenue.  But I'm sure that as Wall Street gets its groove back, that too will go.

I have no idea how you could stop this process.  To keep our neighborhoods the way Jacobs and I liked them would involve massive coercion not just of real estate owners, but of merchants, food vendors . . . everyone in the network of service providers that supports a neighborhood.  The more people like me who move into my current neighborhood, the more services the neighborhood will attract--and those, in turn, will bring further waves of gentrifiers who will use their higher incomes to drive up rents, home prices, and the assessed values upon which property taxes are based.  

I want the services, but I don't want this to price out all the people who already live there.  Unfortunately, it's a package deal.
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