Paul Krugman for President - the newyorker is kicking it with great new articles
I've read a couple of great new indepth articles in the newyorker lately - here another one to check out, about the political evolution of Paul Krugman. Totally worth scanning, even long leisurely reading. So I'll repost a few paragraphs.
I guess I'm joking about Paul Krugman for President - this country only wants lawyers and generals as presidents, an intellectual desn't stand a chance, never mind that our time in history has gotten so complicated that we need brilliant thinkers, not brilliant speakers or macho men, to navigate a way thru the next decades of crisis and transformation.
It was the 2000 election campaign that finally radicalized him. He’d begun writing his column the year before, and although his mandate at the outset was economic and business matters, he began paying more attention to the world in general. During the campaign, he perceived the Bush people telling outright lies, and this shocked him. Reagan’s people had at least tried to justify their policies with economic models and rationalizations. Krugman hadn’t believed the models would work, but at least they were there.
After the election, he began to attack Bush’s policies in his column, and, as his outrage escalated, his attacks grew more venomous. Krugman felt that liberals were unwilling to confront or even to acknowledge the anger on the right with some of their own, so he was going to have to do it. “He saw that it had been very, very painful during the nineties to get American fiscal policy in order, and he saw all of that being thrown away callously and with very little thought,” Brad DeLong, a professor of economics at Berkeley, says. “And it turned out to be true that Alan Greenspan was going to meetings at the White House saying we’re going to regret this. Paul was simply six years behind those of us who had worked in the Clinton Administration, who found the collapse of reality-based Republicanism coming much earlier.” Krugman attacked Bush for trying to bankrupt Social Security, for promoting an economically and environmentally disastrous energy policy, for increasing inequality by cutting taxes for the rich and corporations, for using the war on terrorism to conceal his fiscal misdeeds, and for insider trading before he became President. He wrote a brave column on September 16, 2001, arguing that the catastrophe of September 11th was partly self-inflicted, because the government had abandoned airport security—which should be a public service—to be paid for by the airlines, who naturally did it on the cheap.
In return, he received great piles of hate mail. “He’d get threats,” Wells says. “The Times was constantly barraged with complaints. One time on book tour, he was filmed by this crazy right-winger with a video camera. They were getting hold of his student evaluations to find out if he was indoctrinating Princeton’s youth. At one point, I wanted them to put a panic button in Paul’s office. Our garage doors were egged.” Even some people who agreed with him felt that he was too relentlessly partisan for a columnist in a mainstream paper. But on the left he was revered. “The book tour for ‘The Great Unravelling’ was like revival meetings, because so few people were speaking out then,” Krugman says. “There was a great event—it was in Berkeley, which devalues it a bit—but there was this event with a joint appearance by Al Franken, Kevin Phillips, and me, with three thousand people in the audience, and when we walked onstage we got a standing ovation. That would have been 2004.” “I remember one woman saying, ‘I thought I was going crazy until I read you,’ ” Wells says. “He gave a talk for a small bookstore in Marin County, and the town was so small they didn’t have a place big enough to hold it, so they held it in a local church, and they had to open the windows, because people were outside listening.” All of this—the hate and the love—was exciting, and made Krugman realize that what he was doing was important, even though it was only journalism. Wells tried to prevent it from going to his head. “I said to him, ‘You know, life after Bush is going to be different; you won’t be everybody’s darling, because it will be a more sane time.’ ”
In fact, the change came faster than either of them had anticipated, because during the primary campaign Krugman was very critical of Barack Obama. He was critical chiefly because, of the three main candidates, Obama seemed to him the most conservative (his health plan, for instance, didn’t mandate universal coverage), but it wasn’t just his policies that Krugman objected to. He couldn’t stand all the feel-good stuff about hope and dialogue and reconciliation. He hated that Obama was out there saying nice things about Reagan when what Democrats needed to do most was debunk the persistent myth that Reaganomics had been good for America. He thought Obama was completely wrong to believe that the country’s problems were due largely to partisan nastiness, and ridiculously naïve to imagine that he could bring together Republicans and insurance companies to reform health care. “Anyone who thinks that the next president can achieve real change without bitter confrontation is living in a fantasy world,” he wrote in 2007. Krugman supported John Edwards, for his emphasis on poverty, for his ambitious health-care plan, and for his rough talk about attacking the interests of the wealthy. After Edwards dropped out, he supported Hillary Clinton. She wasn’t as left as Edwards was, but at least she was a fighter, and she obviously had no illusions about bipartisan harmony.
But most people didn’t see Obama the way Krugman did; they thought he was the savior of the left, and the passions of the campaign were such that when Krugman wrote columns deriding Obama he was lacerated—scathing comments on the progressive blogs, more hate mail, and not the fun kind. “I won’t try for fake evenhandedness here,” Krugman wrote. “The Obama campaign seems dangerously close to becoming a cult of personality.” “OK, you did it,” one commenter wrote in response. “You lost me. I’ve defended you on local blogs but you’ve sunk into low territory.” “You’re devolving into a caricature with your gross misrepresentations and strident, ignorant defense of the Clinton campaign,” another wrote. “Paul, you’re killing a little bit of your readers’ souls,” a third wrote, “or at least those of us who used to love your column.” “The primary was terrible, it was awful,” Krugman says.
“Paul was getting attacked by people we thought of as on our side,” Wells says. “I thought to myself, Well, I knew things were going to change, but this is quick and hard enough to give you whiplash. One of our friends said, ‘You’d better be careful, because Obama supporters might put rattlesnakes in your mailbox.’ People said, ‘Oh, Paul’s son works in Hillary’s campaign.’ ” (Krugman has no children.) “People were so upset and angry after Bush, they had taken leave of their senses. They wanted to give themselves over, and they resented people like Paul who said, ‘No, don’t give yourselves over, think about what’s going on.’ They wanted to feel that they were being redeemed, and this is what Obama was offering, but he doesn’t have the right or the ability to redeem people; that’s not appropriate.”
Once Obama won the primary, Krugman supported him. Obviously, any Democrat was better than John McCain.
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Another mind opened by science fiction
People who don't read good science fiction don't know what an enlightening pleasure they are missing.
Krugman explained that he’d become an economist because of science fiction. When he was a boy, he’d read Isaac Asimov’s “Foundation” trilogy and become obsessed with the central character, Hari Seldon. Seldon was a “psychohistorian”—a scientist with such a precise understanding of the mechanics of society that he could predict the course of events thousands of years into the future and save mankind from centuries of barbarism. He couldn’t predict individual behavior—that was too hard—but it didn’t matter, because history was determined not by individuals but by laws and hidden forces. “If you read other genres of fiction, you can learn about the way people are and the way society is,” Krugman said to the audience, “but you don’t get very much thinking about why are things the way they are, or what might make them different. What would happen if ?”
With Hari Seldon in mind, Krugman went to Yale, in 1970, intending to study history, but he felt that history was too much about what and not enough about why, so he ended up in economics. Economics, he found, examined the same infinitely complicated social reality that history did but, instead of elucidating its complexity, looked for patterns and rules that made the complexity seem simple. Why did some societies have serfs or slaves and others not? You could talk about culture and national character and climate and changing mores and heroes and revolts and the history of agriculture and the Romans and the Christians and the Middle Ages and all the rest of it; or, like Krugman’s economics teacher Evsey Domar, you could argue that if peasants are barely surviving there’s no point in enslaving them, because they have nothing to give you, but if good new land becomes available it makes sense to enslave them, because you can skim off the difference between their output and what it takes to keep them alive. Suddenly, a simple story made sense of a huge and baffling swath of reality, and Krugman found that enormously satisfying.
Read more: http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2010/03/01/100301fa_fact_macfarquhar?currentPage=all#ixzz0gpWr2qr7