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I just returned from Bangalore, where Arjun and I spent an intense 10 days working on our book, and on another project which I’ll be posting about in due time. I’d never been to India before, and it was … a lot. It took me a while to put my finger on the overarching impression: not chaos, or disorder, but incongruity — buildings and activities right on top of each other that, in an American context, you’d expect to be widely separated in space or time. That, and the constant buzz of activity, and crowds of people everywhere. In vibes, if not in specifics, it felt like a city of back-to-back Times Squares. I imagine that someone who grew up there would find an American city, even New York, rather dull.
It’s a city that’s gone from one million people barely a generation ago to 8 million today, and is still growing. There’s a modern subway, clean, reliable and packed, with the open-gangway cars New York is supposed to switch to eventually. It opened 15 years ago and now has over 60 stations — I wish we could build like that here. But the traffic is awesome and terrifying. Every imaginable vehicle — handpainted trucks, overloaded and dangling with tassels and streamers; modern cars; vans carrying sheep and goats; the ubiquitous three-wheeled, open-sided taxis; the even more ubiquitous motorbikes, sometimes carrying whole families; and of course the wandering cows — with no stoplights or other traffic control to speak of, and outside the old central city, no sidewalks either. Crossing the street is an adventure.
I realize that I am very far from the first person to have this reaction to an Indian city. Some years ago Jim Crotty was here for some kind of event, and the institution he was visiting provided him with a driver. Afterwards, he said that despite all the dodging and weaving through the packed roads he never felt anything but safe and comfortable. But, he added, “I would never get into a car with that guy in the United States. He’d be so bored, he’d probably fall asleep.”
Varieties of industrial policy. The panel I moderated on industrial policy is up on YouTube, though due to some video glitch it is missing my introductory comments. Jain Family Institute also produced a transcript of the event, which is here.
It was a very productive and conversation; I thought people really engaged with each other, and everyone had something interesting to contribute. But it left me a bit puzzled: How could people who share broad political principles, and don’t seem to disagree factually about the IRA, nonetheless arrive at such different judgements of it?
I wrote a rather long blog post trying to answer this question.
The conclusion I came to was that the reason Daniela Gabor (and other critics, though I was mostly thinking of Daniela when I wrote it) takes such a negative view of the IRA is that she focuses on the form of interface between the state and production it embodies: subsidies and incentives to private businesses. This approach accepts, indeed reinforces, the premise that the main vehicle for decarbonization is private investment. Which means that making this investment attractive to private business owners, for which profitability is a necessary but not sufficient condition. If you don’t think the question “how do we solve this urgent social problem” should be immediately translated into “how do we ensure that business can make money solving the problem,” then the IRA deserves criticism not just on the details but for its fundamental approach.
I am quite sympathetic to this argument. I don’t think anyone on the panel would disagree with it, either normatively as a matter of principle or descriptively as applied to the IRA. And yet the rest of us, to varying degrees, nonetheless take a more positive view of the IRA than Daniela does.
The argument of the post was that this is because we focus more on two other dimensions. First, the IRA’s subsidies are directed to capital expenditure itself, rather than financing; this already distinguishes it from what I had thought of as derisking. And second the IRA’s subsidies are directed toward narrowly specified activities (e.g. battery production) rather than to some generic category of green or sustainable investment, as a carbon tax would be. I called this last dimension “broad versus fine-grained targeting,” which is not the most elegant phrasing. Perhaps I would have done better to call it indicative versus imperative targeting, tho I suppose people might have objected to applying the latter term to a subsidy. In any case, if you think the central problem is the lack of coordination among private investment decisions, rather than private ownership s such, this dimension will look more important.
Extending the matrix. The post got a nice response; it seems like other people have been thinking along similar lines. Adam Tooze restated the argument more gracefully than I did:
Mason’s taxonomy focuses attention on two axes: how far is industrial policy driven by direct state engagement v. how far does it operate at arms-length through incentives? On the other hand, how far is green industrial policy broad-brush offering general financial incentives for green investment, as opposed to more fine-grained focus on key sectors and technologies?
Skeptics like Daniel Gabor, Mason suggests, can be seen as placing the focus on the form of policy action, prioritizing the question of direct versus indirect state action. Insofar as the IRA operates by way of tax incentives it remains within the existing, hands-off paradigm. A big green state would be far more directly involved. Those who see more promise in the IRA would not disagree with this judgment as to form but would insist that what makes the IRA different is that it engages in relatively fine-grained targeting of investment in key sectors.
My only quibble with this is that I don’t think it’s just two dimensions — to me, broad versus narrow and capital expenditure versus financing are two independent aspects of targeting.
I should stress that I wrote the post and the table to clarify the lines of disagreement on the panel, and in some similar discussions that I’ve been part of. They aren’t intended as a general classification of industrial policy, which — if it can be done at all — would require much more detailed knowledge of the range of IP experiences than I possess.
Tooze offers his own additional dimensions:
- The relationship of economic policy to the underlying balance of class forces.
- The mediation of those forces through the electoral system …
- The agenda, expertise & de facto autonomy of state institutions…
These are certainly interesting and important questions. But it seems to me that they are perhaps questions for a historian rather than for a participant. They will offer a very useful framework for explaining, after the fact, why the debate over industrial policy turned out the way that it did. But if one is engaged in politics, one can’t treat the outcome one is aiming at as a fact to be explained. Advocacy in a political context presumes some degree of freedom at whatever decision point it is trying to influence. One wouldn’t want to take this too far: It’s silly to talk about what policies “should” be if there is no one capable of adopting them. But it seems to me that by participating in a political debate within a given community, you are accepting the premise, on some level, that the outcome depends on reason and not the balance of forces.
That said, Tooze’s third point, about state institutions, I think does work in an advocacy context, and adds something important to my schema. Though it’s not entirely obvious which way it cuts. Certainly a lack of state capacity — both administrative and fiscal — was an important motivation for the original derisking approach, and for neoliberalism more broadly. But as Beth Popp Berman reminds us, simple prohibitions and mandates are often easier to administer than incentives. And if the idea is to build up state capacity, rather than taking it as a fact, then that seems like an argument for public ownership.
I’ve thought for years that this was a badly neglected question in progressive economics. We have plenty of arguments for public goods — why the government should ensure that things are provided in different amounts or on different terms than a hypothetical market would. We don’t have so many arguments for why, and which, things should be provided by the public. The same goes for public ownership versus public provisions, with the latter entailing non-market criteria and intrinsic motivation, with the civil service protections that foster it.
The case for public provisioning. One group of people who are thinking about these questions seriously are Paul Williams and his team at the Center for Public Enterprise. (Full disclosure: I sit on CPE’s board.) Paul wrote a blog post a couple weeks ago in response to some underinformed criticisms of public housing, on why public ownership is an important part of the housing picture. Looking at the problem from the point of view of the local government that are actually responsible for housing in the US, the problem looks a bit different than the perspective of national governments that I implicitly adopted in my post.
The first argument he makes for public ownership is that it economizes on what is often in practice the binding constraint on affordable housing, the fixed pot of federal subsidies. A public developer doesn’t need the substantial profit margin a private developer would expect; recovering its costs is enough. Public ownership also allows for, in my terms, more fine-grained targeting. A general program of subsidies or inclusionary zoning (like New York’s 421a tax credits) will be too lax in some cases, leaving affordable units on the table, and too stringent in others, deterring construction. A public developer can assess on a case by case basis the proportion and depth of affordable units that a given project can support. A third argument, not emphasized here but which Paul has made elsewhere, is that developing and operating public housing builds up the expertise within the public sector that is needed for any kind of transformative housing policy.
It’s telling but not surprising to see the but-this-one-goes-to-11 response to Paul’s post that all we need for more housing is land-use deregulation. Personally, I am quite sympathetic to the YIMBY position, and I know Paul is too. But it doesn’t help to oversell it. The problems of “not enough housing” and “not enough affordable housing” do overlap, but they are two distinct problems.
A somewhat different perspective on these questions comes from this report by Josh Wallack at Roosevelt, on universal childcare as industrial policy. Childcare doesn’t have some of the specific problems that industrial policy is often presented as the solution to – it doesn’t require specialized long-lived capital goods, or coordination across multiple industries. But, Wallack argues, it shares the essential element: We don’t think that demand on its own will call forth sufficient capacity, even with subsidies, so government has to intervene directly on the supply side, building up the new capacity itself. I’ve always thought that NYC’s universal pre-K was a great success story (both my kids benefited from it) that should be looked to as a model of how to expand the scope of the public sector. So I’m very glad to see this piece, which draws general lessons from the NYC experience. Wallack himself oversaw implementation of the program, so the report has a lot more detail on the specifics of implementation than you normally get. Very worth reading, if you’re at all interested in this topic.
One area where Wallack thinks the program could have done better is democratic participation in the planning process. This could be another dimension for thinking about industrial policy. A more political practice-oriented version of Tooze’s bullets would be to ask to what extent a particular program broadens or narrows the space for popular movements to shape policy. Of course the extent to which this is feasible, or even desirable, depends on the kind of production we’re talking about. In Catalyst, Matt Huber and Fred Stafford argue, persuasively in my view, that there is a tension between the need for larger-scale electricity transmission implied by the transition away from carbon, and the preference of some environmentalists for a more decentralized, locally-controlled energy system. I am less persuaded by their argument that the need for increased transmission and energy storage rule out a wholesale shift toward renewables; here as elsewhere, it seems to me, which obstacles you regard as insurmountable depend on where you want to end up.
The general point I would make is that politics is not about a final destination, but about a direction of travel. Whether or not we could have 100 percent renewable electricity — or 100 percent public ownership of housing, or whatever — is not so important. What matters is whether we could have substantially more than we have now.
On other topics.
Showing the inconsistencies between conservative free-market economics and actual conservative politics is, in my experience, much harder in practice than it seems like it ought to be, at least if you want to persuade people who actually hold one or both. So it’s fun to see Brian Callaci’s (excellent) arguments against non-compete agreements in ProMarket, the journal of the ur-Chicago Stigler Center.
Garbriel Zucman observes that the past few years have seen very large increases in the share of income at the very top, which now seems to have passed its gilded age peak. Does this mean that I and others have been wrong to stress the gains for low-wage workers from tight post-pandemic labor markets? I don’t think so — both seem to be true. According to Realtime Inequality, the biggest income gains of the past two years have indeed gone to the top 1 percent and especially its top fractiles. But the next biggest gains have gone to the bottom half, which has outpaced the top 10 percent and comfortably outpaced the middle 40 percent. Their income numbers don’t further break out the bottom half, but given that the biggest wage gains have come a the very bottom, I suspect this picture would get even stronger if we looked further down the distribution.
This may well be a general pattern. The incomes that rise fastest in an economic boom are those that come from profits, on the one hand, and flexible wages that are strongly dependent on labor-market conditions on the other. People whose income comes from less commodified labor, with more socially embedded wage-setting, will be relatively insulated from swings in demand, downward but also upward. This may have something to do with the negative feeling about the economy among upper-middle class households that Emily Stewart writes about in Vox.
I’m still hoping to write something more at length about the debates around “greedflation” and price controls. But in the meantime, this from Servaas Storm is very good.
What I’ve been reading. On the plane to Bangalore, I finished Enzo Traverso’s Fire and Blood. I suppose it’s pretty common now to talk about the period from 1914 to 1945 as a unit, a second Thirty Years War. Traverso does this, but with the variation of approaching it as a European civil war — a war within a society along lines of class and ideology, rather than a war between states. A corollary of this, and arguably the animating spirit of the book, is the rehabilitation of anti-fascism as a positive political program. It’s a bit different from the kind of narrative history I usually read; the organization is thematic rather than chronological, and the focus is on culture — there are no tables and hardly any numbers, but plenty of reproductions of paintings. It reads more like a series of linked essays than a coherent whole, but what it lacks in overarching structure in makes up with endless fascinating particulars. I liked it very much.