More on the politics of high gas prices.

In the last post, we noted that the political response of the US public to high gasoline prices is, how shall we say it, more severe than the political response to high healthcare costs.  And therein poses a dilemma for progressives.
For many reasons, high prices for gasoline (and other fossil fuels) are generally a good thing.  Burning fossil fuels is bad for the environment, and many of the ways of extracting petroleum are likewise damaging.  Many petrochemical companies are notoriously bad actors.  Maintaining access to cheap foreign oil also requires us to deal with some rather unsavory states, and get involved in military adventures that would otherwise be considered unwise.  It's not exaggerating to say that cheap gas is paid for in blood, not just dollars.
However, high prices for gasoline is also a bad thing for several reason:  First, it is a major retardant on the economy--its an ever-present tax, sucking the lifeblood out of our markets and sending it overseas, where it often pays for who-knows-what.  Second, it has a particularly harsh impact on the poor, for whom transportation is a bigger percentage of the budget--and who are also impacted by higher prices for food and other necessities.  And lastly, if you care about Barack Obama beating the GOP candidate, likely Mitt Romney in the election, it's not good news.
One of the interesting paradoxes of US politics is that presidents get blamed for high gas prices, even though (in the short term) there is precious little they can do about it directly.  President Obama's poll numbers have dropped recently, though whether that is due to energy prices or some other reason is currently unknown.  (In fairness, it must be noted that he attacked the GOP for high gas prices during the 2008 campaign).  Price controls and other aggressive measures of that sort are pretty much off the table.  Increasing domestic production takes years to have an effect.  That hasn't stopped Newt Gingrich from promising $2.50/gal gas if elected, an idea which the White House has dismissed, though The Atlantic notes that it could be done by subsidizing the stuff to the tune of $190 billion. 
While The Atlantic's proposal as given is bad--subsidizing gasoline strikes me as intelligent as subsidizing cigarettes--it wasn't meant to be taken seriously.  (Or at least that's what I'm assuming, graciously giving the editors there the benefit of the doubt).  But on the other hand...
Energy tax credit?
The main problem with The Atlantic's snarky suggestion is not that it involves a subsidy--but that the subsidy only goes to the purchase of gasoline.  But what if $190B, or some other figure, were made available to instead subsidize energy or transportation?  What if every taxpayer got a lump-sum tax credit to offset rising energy costs, one that wasn't tied to any particular form of energy?
With a gas subsidy, those who drive a Ford Expedition to work would get more money back than those who drive a Honda Civic, and the Civic driver would get more back than those who drive a Chevy Volt, ride a bike, or take the bus to work.  It would directly reward the deleterious behavior.  Such a subsidy would also fail on the equity front, as the poor are more likely to be those not driving.  (Transit riders might benefit indirectly if a subsidy would assist the transit agency with its diesel purchases).  And, Big Oil would be the primary beneficiaries of such a windfall.
With a broad energy credit, on the other hand, the negative impacts of high oil prices on the economy would be mostly offset, but the marginal cost of buying gas would not be offset.  This would maintain the advantage of high oil prices--encouraging alternate forms of energy--but not drag down the economy.  And it would be particularly beneficial to the poor, who would appreciate the credit more than most.
I must emphasize that this is a neutral credit--it isn't tied to alternate energy.  Those who wish to keep a gas-guzzling lifestyle not be prevented from doing so.  But nothing will be done in this proposal to decrease the marginal price of gas. I should als mention that this is envisioned as a short-term credit--essentially a form of stimulus--not a long-term entitlement.  It could be structured as a separate line item, or simply as an increase in the standard deduction or personal exemption. 
In addition to a household credit, I'm also assuming in this scenario some sort of energy credit for businesses.  I'll leave the details to others, as I'm insufficiently wonky in this area to put together a concrete proposal.

Is it doable?
Don't be ridiculous.  The GOP isn't going to do anything that might be beneficial to Obama's re-election, at least not without exacting a policy price for it.  (And they might even reject an offer of increased production, one sure to annoy liberals).  But that doesn't mean the proposal isn't politically valuable.  Obama has got tons of mileage out of the Jobs Act proposals last fall; even though little if any of his proposals have been implemented.  And a general energy credit would allow the debate to be framed in a way consistent with progressive values:  Long term, we have to kick the oil habit, we all know it.  But rising oil prices are damaging our recovery, as our economy suffers withdrawal pains.  A short-term energy credit, designed to offset the impact of high oil prices, will allow us to continue with an orderly transition to the economy of the future.  The only ones who really benefit from oil subsidies are oil companies.
If the debate is whether Obama is doing enough to drive down gas prices, that's a debate the Democrats don't want to have.  And while progressives might cheer were the President to tell the American public to eat their vegetables, that's probably not wise politics.  But if the debate could be shifted from concerns over the price of gas to a broader conversation over energy, it would be to progressive's advantage--even if the actual policy proposals go nowhere.

A tale of two graphs

I was going to write a longer article on this subject, but I decided to be brief this time.  (And #$!#$ Blogger swallowed my post).  Here are two graphs showing the historical costs, over the past forty years, for two things which Americans buy a lot of:

Here's gasoline (per gallon, in 2012 dollars--image courtesy zFacts).

And here's per capita healthcare costs, also in today's dollars (image courtesy Media Matters):

The fluctuating costs of one of these things are treated as a Grave Political Crisis by the vast majority of the US polity, including political actors who normally prefer to leave such matters to the Hidden Hand™--even though, in real dollars, prices are only about double what they were before supply shocks started to hit.  The other is frequently regarded as something that we dare not do something else, lest we start down the Slippery Slope to Socialism--even though the price that Americans pay for it has increased by a couple orders of magnitude.


Which is which, and why, is left as an exercise for the reader.

On the passing of Andrew Brietbart

This morning I woke up to discover that conservative blogger Andrew Breitbart had died suddenly at the age of 43.  The media commentary on him and his untimely demise consisted of much praise and eulogy, some circumspection from political opponents--and a fair amount of pissing on his grave.  Most of the glee at his death came from sources that aren't worth commenting on, but one interesting remark came from Matt Yglesias:

Conventions around dead people are ridiculous. The world outlook is slightly improved with @AndrewBrietbart dead

The discussion of this subject is interesting where Breitbart is concerned, as he himself famously and publicly danced on the tomb of Sen. Teddy Kennedy when the latter passed away from cancer in 2009.  Breitbart justified this on the grounds that Kennedy was a particularly noxious bad actor in US politics, deserving of special scorn. 

But given the observations of both Yglesias and Brietbart, what are--and should be--the social conventions for dealing with the death of a political opponent?

My personal opinion on Breitbart is as follows:  I disliked much of his work.  I thought his temperament was foul and obnoxious (I'm not speaking of his conservative ideology, but of how he disparaged and held in contempt those who disagreed with him), and some of his journalistic practices sleazy and unethical.  I do not know him personally, though many who do have praised him as a nice guy in person (a remark commonly uttered about our political provocateurs).  I'm certainly not happy to hear he's dead--he's only two years older than I am, and it's rather clear from the circumstances that neither he nor his family were prepared and ready for him to die.  Nor am I about to join in the sort of not-glad-hes-dead-but-glad-he's-gone bile that is frequently offered up when a controversial figure dies.  I was somewhat pleased to hear of the demise last year of Osama Bin Laden--not joyous, certainly, but at least relieved; and I did not mourn the passing earlier this year of Kim Jong-Il.  But both of these men were monsters; Breitbart (and other players in US politics and media), whatever his faults, is not in their company.

But what sort of conduct is, or should be acceptable when someone controversial passes--both in the hours immediately after the death, while the family mourns, and long after the dirt hardens over the proverbial coffin?  Is it ever acceptable to express joy at someone's passing, or to damn them to Hell (or the equivalent in other religious or cultural traditions)?  Is "good riddance" and appropriate response?  What of no comment at all, or invokation of the wise words of Thumper the rabbit?  ("If you can't say sumthin' nice...")  Does it make the pain of the surviving family worse to hear public exultations of their loved ones' passing, or does this matter?

Of Jeremy and John

The two big sports stories of the past week have both come out of New York City.  One is the Giants' victory over the New England Patriots in Super Bowl XLVI, which is not relevant to this article.  The other has been the come-from-out-of-nowhere rise of Knicks point guard Jeremy Lin.  Last Sunday, as the garbage was being cleaned out of the stands of Lucas Oil Stadum, nobody outside of New York but the most diehard basketball junkies had heard of Lin--and even among Knick fans, he was generally regarded with the apathy that team benchwarmers typically receive.  According to reports out of New York, he was this close to being cut by the Knicks when he was asked to start in a pinch.  The rest, as Paul Harvey used to say, is history.

Or may become history, if Lin keeps up the pace.  A week into his new career as a starter, it's entirely possible that this is all a flash in the pan--a statistical fluke which will be followed by a regression to the mean.  It's possible that this is a case of fresh legs outplaying tired ones, in the compressed lockout-season schedule.  It's possible that this is a case of a largely-unscouted player beating defenses not yet coached on how to stop him.  Or, Lin may be the real deal--either way, we'll know more in a few weeks, when we have a larger body of work to examine.  Either way, Lin has garnered himself a lot of attention in the NBA the past week.

On the assumption that Lin is the real deal, many NBA observers are asking the obvious question:   How did this happen?  How did a supremely skilled player slip below the radar of the league's talent evaluation process, and get cut by several NBA teams before exploding onto the scene?  Lin was a star in high school (in Palo Alto, CA), but wasn't offered a scholarship by any Division I schools, and went to play at Harvard (which doesn't offer scholarships to athletes).  He had a successful career at Harvard, but went undrafted in the NBA.  He played in Summer League for the Mavericks, spent his rookie season on the bench for his hometown Warriors (where he was a crowd favorite, in a metropolis with a large Asian population, but did not get significant playing time).  Before the start of this season, he was cut by the Warriors, played in training camp for the Houston Rockets (but didn't make that team), and was picked up by the Knicks, doing a stint in the NBDL before getting his big break.

Many are focusing on Lin's Chinese ancestry as a reason for his talents being overlooked.  He's the first Chinese-American to make an NBA roster.  Several overseas Chinese players have made NBA teams, but all of the Chinese imports who have done so (Yao Ming, Wang Zhizhi, Mengke Bateer, and Yi Jianlian) have been big men, and only Yao has ever been any good.  It doesn't stretch the bounds of credibility to suggest that NBA scouts, executives, and coaches are skeptical of Asian players; at a minimum, they tend to be a conservative lot who are loathe to color outside the lines.  On the other hand, the Mavericks and Rockets (in particular) have among the most data-driven front offices in the league; both teams have had great success with foreign-born superstars (Yao, Dirk Nowitzki, and Hakeem Olajuwon), and both are generally regarded as top-notch operations--and yet both dropped the ball on Lin.  (The Knicks, ironically, are often regarded as one of the worst front offices in the league). 

How did this happen?

Of course, to ask that question with such incredulity is to pretend that this has never happened before in the NBA.  It has, of course, and I would to focus on a similar story, of a player who rose from obscurity to stardom.  It happened twenty years ago, in the same Madison Square Garden where Lin is now playing.

The player's name is well known to NBA fans:  John Levell Starks.

John Starks was a basketball player from Oklahoma.  Like Lin, he had a long road to NBA stardom, and was generally overlooked both in college and by NBA teams.  He played for several different collegiate teams, due in part to some legal difficulties, graduating from Oklahoma State.  He famously worked as a bagboy at Safeway during that time.  He went unselected in the 1988 NBA Draft, a slightly greater humiliation than that suffered by Lin in 2010 as the draft that year had three rounds instead of two.  He bounced around the league for a couple years until being picked up the Knicks--and only avoided being cut because he had been injured in practice (while trying to dunk on Patrick Ewing).  But like Lin, Starks soon rose from the end of the bench to the starting lineup--and was a fixture and a fan favorite on the Knicks for most of the 1990s.  His career highlight was posterizing Michael Jordan in the 1993 playoffs (the Knicks would lose the series to the Bulls, the eventual champion); his career lowlight occurred the following season when he went 2/18 in Game 7 of the NBA Finals, which the Knicks lost to Houston.

The analogy between Starks and Lin isn't exact, of course.  Starks' college career was dogged by legal trouble, and during his NBA career he was widely regarded as a hothead, with good reason.  (In some ways, he was his generation's Rasheed Wallace).  Lin has never had any issues with the law.  On the other hand, Starks' ethnicity (primarily African-American, with some Native American ancestry as well) didn't work against him, whereas Lin is blazing a new trail for Asian ballplayers.  

John Starks, however, is just but one example.

There have been many other players who also have similar career paths--lightly regarded in lower levels of basketball, undrafted (or drafted late) in the NBA, followed by stardom.  Sports Illustrated has a photo montage full of examples of undrafted players who became starters or stars, and to that list you can a good number of late draft picks such as Manu Ginobili.  Conversely, the first round of the NBA draft is chock full of busts.  While NBA scouting and talent analysis has gotten more professional than the days of the cigar-chomping GM making draft decisions based on the sports page, it's still a major crapshoot, which many things that can go wrong (or right):  Players who are a bad fit for teams.  Players who excel against lousy competition.  Players whose skills are suppressed (or featured) within a given coach's system.  Injuries.  Players who blossom late.  NBA coaches and executives who don't trust rookies.  And of course, players who come from backgrounds or situations that seldom, if ever, produce NBA-level talent.

The surprising thing about the Jeremy Lin story is not that it's happening.

The surprising thing is that it doesn't happen more often.

Did the 9th Circuit just legalize same-sex marriage--in Oregon?

Today, the 9th Circuit issued its decision in Perry v. Schwarzenegger (also known as Perry v. Brown, as Ahnold is no longer the governator), overturning California's Proposition 8, clearing the way for same-sex marriage to once again be legal in the state.  The ruling was "on the merits", as opposed to based on side issues such as the Prop 8 proponents standing to appear in court (this was granted).  However, the ruling was narrowly tailored to the facts in California--where a prior state court ruling legalized SSM, and was subsequently overturned by Prop 8, a voter-approved initiative amending the state Constitution.  The ruling, citing the SCOTUS case Romer v. Evans as precedent, essentially holding that the revoking of privileges of a subset of the citizenry for reasons derived only from animus, rather than compelling state interest, violated the Equal Protection Clause of the 14th Amendment.  In Romer, the voters of Colorado passed an initiative invalidating gay-friendly civil rights legislation passed by several Colorado cities; and the Court said that this could not be done.  The court in Romer did not rule that gays and lesbians had an inherent right, under either Colorado or US law, to not be subject to private discrimination in employment; merely that this right, once granted, could not be taken away.  Likewise with SSM--the Court did not grant the right to same sex marriage generally; it only stated that once it had been granted under California law, it could not be subsequently revoked. 

So what does this have to do with Oregon?  Two things:

• Oregon is within the 9th Circuit and subject to its precedents and authority
• Oregon residents--specifically those in Multnomah County--briefly enjoyed the rights to same sex marriage (or they did at least under one interpretation of the law).

Several years back, when same sex marriage started becoming a major political issue, and Massachusetts became the first state to permit it, officials in Multnomah and Benton County decided to start issuing same-sex marriage licenses, as Oregon law, at that point, was somewhat ambiguous on the subject.  (It described marriage as involving "men" and "women", but did not specifically say that individual marriages had to be between one man and one woman).  Several such licenses were issued, and an anti-SSM group, the Defense of Marriage Coalition, sued claiming that the county officials in question had exceeded their authority.  The state attorney general's office issued an opinion that Oregon law at the time did prevent same-sex marriage, but that this interpretation of the law might be in violation of the state Consitution.

The suit was stayed pending the outcome of Ballot Measure 36, a 2004 initiative to ban same-sex marriage by explicit language in the Oregon Constitution.  Measure 36 passed 57%-43%, and the marriage licenses granted by the counties during the brief period they were available, were voided.  (This is a difference from California, where there are approximately 18,000 couples with valid same-sex marriages, granted between the legalization of SSM and the passage of Prop 8; Prop 8 was held to not be retroactive).

So, the obvious thing to ask:  Did Measure 36 take away a right previously enjoyed by Oregonians based on an essentially suspect classification, with no compelling interest?  Or is it essentially a codification of existing practice that had insufficient effect to be caught within the ambit of Rover v. Evans or today's decision in Perry?  Were the handful of couples who were granted marriage licenses, only to see them voided by Measure 36, similarly injured--or did officials in the two counties exceed their lawful authority, hence no valid marriages ever existing in the first place?  There was an Oregon court case, Li & Kennedy v. Oregon, in which a couple who were granted a license in Multnomah County sued to keep it, stating (in particular) that Measure 36 was not designed to be retroactive.  The Oregon Supreme court ruled that Multnomah County authorities had indeed exceeded their authority (despite arguments on the constitutionality of the SSM ban prior to Measure 36), and that the marriage licenses granted were null and void; as such, it did not matter whether 36 or not was retroactive.  The decision didn't go any further than that; as the passage Measure 36 had foreclosed any arguments under the Oregon Constitution that a SSM ban was invalid.

But the question remains:  Even though no lawful same-sex marriages were effectively performed--those which had been performed were held to be unlawful under pre-36 law--did Measure 36 remove rights based on suspect classification?  Or not?  There are quite a few other states in the US (though none in the 9th Circuit) that have explicitly banned same-sex marriage only in response to the recent controversy; prior to that the "ban" against such was only a remnant of custom and/or common law.  (A few other states have had explicit laws on the books banning the practice for a long time).  Do such bans fall under the Romer standard, or does something concrete have to be granted first, and then taken away, before Romer applies?

The Presdiential Candidate's Song

Scholars at Oxford have recently discovered, within the archives, the libretto to a previously-unknown Gilbert and Sullivan opera, The Pirates of Finance.  One aria is of particular note, as by utterly strange coincidence, it resembles recent events in United States presidential politics.  Given this relevance to current events, the lyrics to this tune are reproduced in full below.

Near the end of the first act, a group of journalists, in search of cocktail parties at which to booze and schmooze, is accosted by the former Governor-General of one of the lost American colonies.  The aria begins thusly:

Governor:

I am the very model of a Presidential Candidate
I've customized positions tailor-made for each and every state
From Boston to Los Angeles, and Miami to Anchorage
There's no stopping my pandering, although it sometimes nukes the fridge
In Texas I'm a teabagger, in Cleveland I'm a center-ist
All around the country there's no baby that I have not kissed
In lib'rul Massachussets, I'm the father of Obamacare
But please don't tell the GOP, for that they do not really care.

Media:

But please don't tell the GOP, for that they do not really care
But please don't tell the GOP, for that they do not really care.
But please don't tell the GOP, for that they do not really care!

Governor:

Although my policy positions seem to be expedient
I promise, Mr. Limbaugh, to the right I'll be obedient!
At least until the nomination, then I will "self-moderate"
I am the very model of a Presidential Candidate!

Media:

At least until the nomination, then he will "self-moderate"
He is the very model of a Presidential Candidate!

Governor:

I am the very model of a Presidential Candidate
I'm a friend of Wall Street, proud to pay the carried interest rate
I'm schooled in foreign policy, to many lands I'm proud to go
Bermuda and the Cayman Islands, Switzerland, and Monaco
My father was the boss man at an auto manufacturer
Instead I think Detroit it ought to be put out to pasture-ure.
I worked as a consultant, to improve corporate efficiencies....
(ponders briefly) Hmm, I know!
By firing all the workers and then closing all the factories!

Media:

By firing all the workers and then closing all the factories!
By firing all the workers and then closing all the factories!
By firing all the workers and then closing all the factories!

Governor:

Though being a corporate raider is the lowlight of my long career
Don't call me a "pirate", I would rather be called "privateer"
'Sides, envy at my wealth is rather rude and inconsiderate
I am the very model of a Presidential Candidate

Media:

(Envy at his wealth is rather rude and inconsiderate
He is the very model of a Presidential Candidate)

Governor:

I am the very model of a Presidential Candidate
I've studied all the scandals big, from Teapot Dome to Watergate
I've read the memoirs of great men, from Coolidge up to Double-U
I've got a team of focus groups, who guide me in just what to do!
I'm manicured and groomed and styled, in all ways quite presentable
But pollsters give me news that my election's quite preventable
Can someone please inform me what's the beef with the electorate?
Maybe more commercials cause the voters just don't know me yet?

Media:

Maybe more commercials 'cause the voter just don't know him yet
Maybe more commercials 'cause the voter just don't know him yet
Maybe more commercials 'cause the voter just don't know him yet

Governor:

Although I seem quite plastic and my speeches are a sedative
I still don't understand why my approval rating's negative
My super-PACs are loaded, and I'm ready to recalibrate
I am the very model of a Presidential Candidate

Media:

His super-PACs are loaded, and he's ready to recalibrate
He is the very model of a Presidential Candidate

OK, so this isn't the first G&S parody on this subject (see this, for instance).  But Mittens is such a perfect target.

Denver Broncos quarterback Tim Tebow renounces Christianity

Denver, CO.  A day after his Denver Broncos were defeated 41-23 at Sports Authority Field in Denver, starting quarterback Tim Tebow, long known for his frequent sideline prayers, announced that he was renouncing Christianity.  "I'm done with Him", a dejected Tebow told a Denver sports columnist during a locker-room interview at the Bronco's practice facility.  "Everything that I've done was for the Lord, and how does He repay me?  He sends His angels to speed the feet of the gosh darn, excuse me, Patriots' linebackers, and I spent half the afternoon on my back.  No more!" 

"I feel like Salieri, do you know what I mean?"  Tebow stated, referring to the Austrian classical composer who was a contemporary and rival of Mozart.  Impersonating F. Murray Abraham's Oscar-winning portrayal of the jealous court composer, Tebow continued:  "From now on we are enemies, You and I. Because You choose for Your instrument a boastful, lustful, smutty, infantile boy--yeah, I'm talking about Brady--and give me for reward only the ability to recognize the incarnation. Because You are unjust, unfair, unkind, I will block You, I swear it. I will hinder and harm Your creature on earth as far as I am able."

"But it's not just Brady" sniffed the former collegiate star for the Florida Gators.  "It's Favre.  It's McMahon.  It's Namath.  Football is the greatest sport that the Heavenly Father invented, but who does He choose to be its heroes?  Womanizers.  Drunks.  Partiers.  My brother Aaron Rodgers is far too humble to tell you this, but despite leading the Packers to a 13-1 record, all he hears anywhere in the whole state of Wisconsin is Brett this, Brett that.  I mean, Brett Favre went and played a season for the Minnesota Vikings.  Lucifer's team.  Aaron is a good man, and this is how the Lord treats him?"

"I'm done with God."

Immediately after the interview, Tebow reportedly sacrificed a small goat in the locker room's Jacuzzi.  While team officials refused to comment on the incident, Tebow was suspended for Saturday's game against the Buffalo Bills for an unspecified violation of team rules.