October 7, 2004








  • Posted on Wed, Oct. 06, 2004



    Better schools: the magic of 55%


    PASSING PARCEL TAXES IS CRUCIAL

    Mercury News Editorial


    Parcel taxes for local schools have become a necessary staple on election day. They're critical to augment stagnant state education funding and head off budget cuts. But approving parcel taxes in most districts remains incredibly hard; some have become gun-shy of even trying.


    That's why it's encouraging that a new group has stepped forward to propose a statewide initiative that would make it easier to approve parcel taxes. Though the effort will take a lot of money and a broad, bipartisan coalition, on Monday, the proponents of such a measure showed they'll have both.


    Taxpayers for School Improvement announced a core group of a dozen-plus supporters from business and industry, as well as education, who will help organize a campaign that will likely cost $1 million and need 600,000 signatures to get on the 2006 ballot.


    The initiative would lower the requirement for passing a parcel tax to 55 percent from the current two-thirds. That's a fair compromise that preserves a high hurdle while giving parcel taxes a better chance of passing.


    Four years ago, voters created a precedent when they passed Proposition 39, establishing a 55 percent majority for school construction bonds. Now they need to do the same for the day-to-day instructional needs.


    Assembly member Joe Simitian, a Democrat from Palo Alto, estimates that half of defeated parcel taxes would have passed, had the 55 percent requirement been in effect. Count San Jose Unified and East Side Union High School District among those whose recent parcel tax proposals fell a few percentage points shy of 66.


    Simitian is a co-chair of Taxpayers for School Improvement, along with Steve Poizner, a Republican candidate for the Assembly, and Reed Hastings, a state school board member.


    Simitian has been forced to turn to a signature drive, because opponents in the Assembly, primarily Republicans, killed his bill to put the issue on the ballot. Their hostility is hard to fathom, since the initiative wouldn't create a new tax; it would only give local voters more power to improve their schools.


    Under a standard parcel tax, all property owners pay the same, regardless of the size or value of their parcels. This method isn't a great way to fund education, and we hope that the new group explores ways to make parcel taxes fairer. But for now, it's the only option districts have to supplement seriously undernourished schools.


    A half-dozen school districts in the Valley are counting on voters to pass parcel taxes next month to stave off budget cuts. Two-thirds support will be very tough to get, regardless of the merits.


    An obstinate minority shouldn't be allowed to thwart the community's will.


     


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October 6, 2004


  • Wednesday October 06, 2004


    Threat of future climate shift looms


    Scientists predict a 10 to 15 degree temperature increase in next century




    Napa Valley is ideal for growing wine grapes. Each inch of rolling hill is covered in mottled vines turning red, orange and yellow for fall. The cool morning fog cover spills in from the coast.


    But wine lovers beware - by the end of the century your coveted Napa Valley merlot may be a lot more expensive, and the rolling hills may look more like dry grassland.


    A study by 19 scientists predicts that California's temperatures will rise 10 to 15 degrees Fahrenheit by the end of the century, which could have devastating consequences for the wine grape and vegetable industries.


    The report, published online Aug. 16 by the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, offers two detailed projections of the California climate shift. The first scenario is based on current greenhouse gas emissions and the second is based on lower emission levels.


    The climate models predict that if the state continues to produce high levels of green-house gas emissions, the climate shift could reduce California's snow pack by up to 89 percent, create massive water shortages, and reduce the quality and variety of vegetables and wine grapes by the end of the century.


    UC Davis Vegetable Crops professor Arnold Bloom said increased temperatures will cause a deluge of rain from higher elevations to run off instead of slowly melting from snow packs through the spring. Reservoirs would be depleted, creating a drastic water shortage for agriculture and the public. The report also predicts heat-related deaths could increase by five to seven times in the Los Angeles area as temperatures soar during summer months.


    A climate shift of this nature would also impact when and where vegetables could be produced in California. With a world-famous viticulture and agricultural program, UCD is in a delicate position.


    While most agree that global warming is a real and pressing issue, little action is being taken by people involved in the vegetable and wine grape industries.


    "In my opinion, those who are planning for these climate changes now are not being taken seriously by the industry as a whole, although maybe they should," said Nate Weis, president of Davis Enology and Viticulture Organization, in an e-mail.


    At UCD, there also appears to be a lack of organized effort in the viticulture and vegetable departments to fight for improvements in global warming.


    "It would be nice as these issues become more prominent for there to be more of an emphasis on global change at UC Davis," Bloom said.


    Taking action is important because the repercussions of a 10 to 15 degree temperature increase could be devastating to agriculture and wine grapes in particular.


    There will be a shift in timing and locations of where things are grown in California, and obtaining water will be more crucial, Bloom said. Some places that are open to agriculture now may not be open in the future.


    The report said that excessively high temperatures could cause wine grapes to ripen one to two months earlier than usual, which would result in poorer grape quality.


    "My understanding is that it could be devastating for quality-oriented wine regions such as Napa and Sonoma," Weis said. "A difference of 10 degrees would have severe implications for wine quality."


    Mark Matthews, UCD Viticulture and Encology professor, said the wine grape industry is very important to California's economy. It is usually ranked the number-one cash crop in California, and is estimated to earn $1 billion annually, Matthews said.


    However, both Bloom and Matthews questioned the accuracy of the climate models' projections and found it difficult to predict the repercussions on wine grape and vegetable industries based on the data.


    "It's not a controlled experiment," Bloom said. "Instead of a large sample, we have a sample size of one. How do you make decisions on data that is very uncertain?"


    However, researchers believe that climate models are the best way to foresee future climate shifts. By testing the model's ability to predict temperature change over the last 25 to 50 years and by using a combination of models, researchers said they feel confident that their projections are fairly accurate.


    "I think the information the model provides is going to be more believable than anything else," said Richard Grotjahn, UCD Land, Air and Water Resources professor. "That's not saying the model is 100 percent accurate.there might be variations, but it's still the best tool to understand what might be the consequences of emissions. It's actually surprising how well they do."


     


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    Posted on Tue, Oct. 05, 2004



    Seafood: Going, going . . .
    ALLOWABLE CATCH NEEDS TO BE LOWERED OR NOTHING WILL BE LEFT



    It may have escaped your notice that October is Seafood Month. It would have escaped ours, as well, had it not coincided with the final report from the U.S. Commission on Ocean Policy.


    Together, the two add up to this: Seafood month could someday become Seafood Nostalgia Month.


    Some regions and some species have been so exhaustively fished that there is hardly anything left to catch. The cod fishery in the North Atlantic has collapsed. Rock fish off the West Coast, often called Pacific red snapper or Pacific rock cod, have been reduced to less than 10 percent of their historic populations.


    Overfishing isn't the only villain. Pollution washing into the ocean has created ``dead zones'' in bays and estuaries. But overfishing is more easily corrected.


    The allowable catch should be lowered, and fishing techniques should change to lessen ``bycatch,'' the unwanted fish and other marine life hauled up in nets and then thrown away.


    Management of fisheries is in the hands of eight regional councils that decide how many fish can be caught and who gets to catch them. The fishing industry, commercial and recreational, dominates the councils.


    A bill in Congress, the Fisheries Management Reform Act, H.R. 4706, would be a start toward addressing these problems by altering the makeup and procedures of the councils. It follows recommendations of the ocean commission and a separate, but similar, report from the Pew Foundation.


    Under the bill:


    • An independent, scientific panel would assess fish populations and decide what level of catch a fishery could sustain.


    • Council members would be chosen from varied backgrounds, including conservation groups, to reduce fishing industry dominance.


    • Members would no longer be exempt from federal conflict-of-interest laws.


    The Commission on Ocean Policy has given Congress a clear warning. If management of fisheries continues on its present course, there will be fewer and fewer fisheries to manage.


     


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October 3, 2004











  • Posted on Sun, Oct. 03, 2004



    What's the goal of kid sports?




    The fall youth sports season is in full swing.


    Are we having fun yet?


    Wasted weekends. Late-night dinners. Anxiety over playing time and performance. As a parent, I accept those necessary evils as part of the process of my three children having fun, staying in shape and learning valuable life lessons.


    But I'm having difficulty accepting the growing notion -- spawned by the Olympics and fueled by parents trying to give their children an edge -- that one of the chief goals of youth sports is to create mini-professionals.


    This push for perfection can be seen in the rapid growth of ultra-competitive club sports and travel teams for children at increasingly younger ages. A generation ago, most youth sports leagues had defined seasons and made an effort to balance winning with the need to let every child play.


    No more.


    Today's club teams -- with the best of intentions -- use rec programs as feeder teams to identify the most talented athletes, who then try out for and play on increasingly competitive and elite teams. Some teams play year-round; many travel statewide and nationwide in search of the most competitive games. Sometimes the athletes are as young as 8.


    The message couldn't be clearer: If you want to get to the Olympics -- or increasingly just to play your favorite sport in high school -- you have to start training single-mindedly when you begin elementary school.


    This is the athletic equivalent of sending your kids to a school that, beginning in first grade, teaches only one subject. Yet no one seems to be asking if this trend is in the best long-term interests of youth sports and children's overall development.


    Don't get me wrong. I love competitive youth sports. I played high school and college sports and have coached basketball, soccer, tennis and baseball teams of all ages over the past 25 years. I've seen it all -- from parents reducing their kids to tears on the field to a coach who put duct tape over a parent's mouth to shut him up -- and I keep coming back for more.


    But I'm increasingly troubled over the need to force children to make decisions about their futures before they are emotionally and intellectually ready to make those choices or deal with the consequences.


    Especially when they involve my own daughter.


    A couple of weeks ago my 10-year-old, Laura, popped out the front door and offered to help me bring in groceries. All my antennas were instantly extended. This was her third offer to help in an hour. As any experienced parent knows, that could mean only one thing: She wanted something and wanted it bad.


    Sure enough, less than a minute later, she screwed up her courage and here it came: ``Daddy, can I try out for volleyball?''


    I wanted to give her a big hug and say: ``Volleyball is great. Of course you can play.'' But Laura loves soccer and for the past three years has played on a year-around, competitive club team with an unforgiving, mandatory practice schedule that leaves little time for playing school sports.


    So I told her we needed to think about it. Disappointment swept across her face.


    Laura knows her mom and I have a hard-and-fast rule against playing any more than one sport at a time. We don't want her (or our family) overwhelmed by after-school activities at the expense of her homework and family time. But if she is committed to year-around soccer, that precludes her playing another sport. Ever.


    I wouldn't object if she wanted to drop soccer, even though it's been a positive experience and I enjoy being an assistant coach on the team. But she doesn't want to -- and she knows that if she did, even for a quarter of the year, she would probably be dropped from a team that includes many friends.


    A dilemma


    What to do?


    I ventured a call to an expert, Jim Thompson, founder of the Positive Coaching Alliance at Stanford University, an organization that strives to teach coaches and parents how to keep the fun in playing.


    He knew exactly what my daughter and I were facing.


    ``I was at a meeting with people who study youth sports and everybody around the table felt the increasing professionalism of youth sports and travel teams is a bad development,'' said Thompson. ``There are no comprehensive studies that I'm aware of on the subject. It just feels like a bad idea.''


    To get a sense of what we are losing in the quest for perfection, we need only look back at why some of the country's youth leagues got started -- and how they were run.


    Joe Tomlin started Pop Warner football in 1929 to take kids off the streets of Philadelphia and instill in them a sense of personal and community values. Carl Stotz founded Little League baseball in Williamsport, Pa., in 1938 because he wanted to provide his nephews with a field to play on and to teach the ideals of sportsmanship, fair play and teamwork.


    Both groups accepted as many players as possible, guaranteed playing time for all players and established a set playing season that didn't conflict with school teams.


    Stotz later divorced himself from the league he created over the advent of the Little League World Series. He never attended a single World Series game, saying in 1989 that it ``takes away from the sport what Little League is all about, a chance to play neighborhood baseball.''


    Travel teams and competitive club sports teams are the natural extension of Little League's development of its World Series. They generally have fewer rules on playing time, place a higher emphasis on the development of players and teams and see year-around competition as a virtue. They also rob school sports teams and organizations such as Little League of the best players.


    `Tremendous trend'


    The director of the National Alliance for Youth Sports, Fred Engh, calls the trend toward year-around sports and travel teams the ``most notable thing that you'll see about youth sports today. There aren't any numbers to quantify this, but I can tell you it's a tremendous trend.''


    And it's likely to get more pronounced if people like Robert Ziegler have their way. Ziegler, a soccer advocate and founder of Top Drawer Soccer, wrote last year: ``The top players, 1,800 of them or so, MUST NOT play high school soccer. . . . I know there are some good high school coaches and teams out there, but the fact remains the top player enters a lower overall talent environment when he enters high school soccer.''


    That kind of attitude only serves to further justify many parents' actions to help their children hone their skills. Parents now pay an estimated $4.1 billion annually on private sports instruction for their children, and they are increasingly expected to dole out thousands of dollars a year for coaching and weekend jaunts to games and tournaments.


    ``If what we're trying to do is prepare kids for success in life, I think that for the vast majority of kids, playing in a variety of sports is the way to go,'' said Thompson. ``One of the things we advocate is asking parents where the drive for athletes to play comes from. . . . Is it from the child?''


    In my daughter's case, I like to think that's definitely true.


    Dubious motivation


    But too often the instigators are parents with unrealistic visions of college scholarships and professional sports careers for their children.


    Too few parents understand that there are far more academic scholarships available than athletic scholarships. Nor do they appreciate the odds against their child playing major college or professional sports.


    Only one Little Leaguer in about 3,000 ever makes it to the major leagues. Basketball is no better. Only one out of every 10,000 youth basketball players makes it to the NBA.


    Soccer? There isn't much money in the men's pro game in the United States; the women's pro league died last year. College scholarships are relatively scarce -- and many parents discover too late that foreign players are also recruited along for those scholarships that are available.


    Nor do pushy parents and coaches seem to have a good handle on the increased risk of injury to children who play the same sport year-around. Thompson cites an American Medical Association report revealing an increase in the number of repetitive stress injuries in youth sports as athletes have shifted from playing 15 to 30 games in a season 20 years ago to upward of 40 to 50 games a year.


    Armed with all that knowledge, I went back to see Laura for a father-daughter talk.


    I told her that the decision was hers. My wife and I would bend our rules and allow her to try out for the school volleyball team if that coach was amenable to her missing practice when it conflicts with soccer.


    I told her that as she progresses in volleyball, she will probably have to make a choice about which sport she prefers.


    And I told her the story about a conversation I had with my dad when I was a boy.


    My father was a parent in a generation that believed in the value of ``trying a sport out for size.'' Find something you're good at and enjoy, he'd tell me and my three brothers.


    He loved to shoot baskets with us in the driveway and play catch with us in the back yard (baseball is his favorite sport). I remember vividly how proud he was when I made the Little League All-Star team at the age of 12 as a left-handed pitcher.


    On summer nights, during games of catch, I'd tell him how much I idolized Sandy Koufax and that when I grew up I wanted to be a big league pitcher. I know my dad shared that dream because of how much he encouraged me to work hard.


    Which made it that much harder three years later when I screwed up my courage and told him I was giving up baseball to try out for tennis .


    The disappointment on his face was obvious. But he never tried to talk me out of it. He loved me more than he loved baseball, and it was never clearer to me than it was that spring day.


    We all want the best for our children, as I do for Laura. As a parent, I lament how difficult the choices are in today's hyper-competitive world. But this I know: I may be disappointed if Laura ultimately gives up soccer, which she still loves. But the joy on her face when I told her the decision was hers will remain with me long after her playing days are over.


    Thanks, Dad.


     


    ED CLENDANIEL (eclendaniel@mercurynews.com) is an editorial writer at the Mercury News and a longtime coach of youth sports.


     


     


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  • October 3, 2004
    ECONOMIC VIEW

    Thou Shalt Not Increase G.D.P.

    By DANIEL GROSS





    CAN belief in heaven or hell be a competitive advantage for nations?


    It's not the sort of question that many economists ask. After all, with exceptions like Adam Smith, the giants of economic theory have had little to say on matters of faith. And economists have tended to accept the secularization thesis advanced by Max Weber in "The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism," the Western Civ staple: as economies become more advanced and as technology progresses, religion will decline as a force.


    What's more, many economists - with their penchant for data and bedrock faith in the rationality of humans - may be temperamentally unsuited to take religion seriously. Some people, though, have tried to study both economics and religion.


    "Religious activity is very hard to quantify," said Eli Berman, an economist at the University of California at San Diego who has used economic principles to study radical religious militias. "And religious groups tend to do a whole bunch of things that look pretty darn irrational, at least at first glance."


    But the wall separating church and economics is being breached. "In the past 5 to 20 years, more and more scholars have been using conventional economic methods to understand the way in which religion relates to the rest of society, and to the economy in particular," said Laurence R. Iannaccone, the Koch professor of economics at George Mason University in Fairfax, Va.


    The scholars now include Robert J. Barro and Rachel M. McCleary, a husband-and-wife team based at Harvard. Professor Barro is a prolific economist who has long been interested in studying how and why economic growth rates differ among countries. Professor McCleary, who directs the Project on Religion, Political Economy, and Society at Harvard's Weatherhead Center for International Affairs, gained an appreciation of the importance of religion in economic life while studying in Guatemala.


    In a paper published last year in the American Sociological Review, the couple set out to investigate the correlation between variables like church attendance and belief in heaven and hell and comparative economic growth rates from 1965 to 1995. "We thought there might be a positive relationship between certain religious beliefs and economic performance," Professor Barro said.


    Investigating such a hypothesis can be difficult, in part because different religious systems have starkly different practices when it comes to their mode of participation and belief in the afterlife.


    But over all, the study confirmed the assumption that greater economic development is associated with less religiosity. In their results, which Dr. McCleary notes are preliminary and need further investigation, the two also reached some counterintuitive conclusions. First, in two countries where religious service attendance is essentially the same, the one whose people have a greater belief in heaven and hell would experience faster economic growth. Second, in two countries where the populations have similar rates of belief in heaven and hell, the one in which church attendance is greater would have slower growth.


    Why? This "quantitative approach to the study of religion," as Professor McCleary calls it, rests on the assumption that religion can affect economics by fostering beliefs that influence productivity-enhancing traits like thrift, hard work and honesty. A widespread feeling that such behavior may ultimately be rewarded (a belief in heaven), or that a lack of such behavior may be punished (a belief in hell) may therefore spur economic growth. And if more people and resources are devoted to holding religious services without producing the desired output (a higher level of belief), that would tend to lessen productivity in an economy.


    In other words, countries' economies may perform best when people have relatively higher levels of religious belief than religious participation. Among the nations falling into this category are Japan, South Korea, Singapore and some Scandinavian countries - all of which performed well economically in the period studied. Countries in which belief was low compared with religious participation included India and many in Latin America.


    Another finding was that belief in hell proved to be a more significant economic factor than belief in heaven. "The stick of punishment may be more powerful compared with the carrot," Professor Barro said.


    While noting that "we need a lot more and better data before we can be confident about the results" of such studies, Professor Iannaccone says economists should pay more attention to the intersection of religion and economics. "It's almost impossible to live in the 21st century and look around and say that religion has no impact anymore," he said.


    INDEED, while Adam Smith's "Inquiry Into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations" has been the bible for generations of economists, signs indicate that some older sacred texts matter to them as well. In December 2002, when Vernon L. Smith, a pioneer in experimental economics, accepted the Nobel in economic science, he paid tribute to many intellectual influences beyond his mentors and colleagues. He cited Benjamin Franklin, the Enlightenment philosopher David Hume and several of the Ten Commandments. The strictures against stealing or coveting a neighbor's possessions, he noted, "provide the property-right foundations for markets." And the prohibition against murder, adultery and bearing false witness "provide the foundations for cohesive social exchange."



    Daniel Gross writes the "Moneybox" column for Slate.com.


October 1, 2004


  • October 1, 2004

    The First Debate







    If Americans who tuned into last night's presidential debate were waiting for one of the candidates to catch the other in a fatal error, or leave him stammering, the event was obviously a draw. But if the question was whether Senator John Kerry would appear presidential, whether he could present his positions clearly and succinctly and keep President Bush on the defensive when it came to the critical issue of Iraq, Mr. Kerry delivered the goods.


    George W. Bush is famous for fierce discipline when it comes to sticking to a carefully honed, simple message. Last night he reiterated this campaign message once again - that "the world is safer without Saddam Hussein" and that things are, on the whole, going well in Iraq. The confidence with which Mr. Bush has kept hammering home those points has clearly had an effect in the polls, encouraging wavering voters to believe that the president is the one who can best lead the country out of the morass he created.


    But last night Mr. Bush sounded less convincing when he had to make his case in the face of Mr. Kerry's withering criticism, particularly his repeated insistence that the invasion had diverted attention from the true center of the war on terror in Afghanistan.


    Mr. Kerry found the most effective line of argument when he told the audience that "Iraq was not even close to the center of the war on terror" and that the president had "rushed the war in Iraq without a plan to win the peace." It is the strongest and most sensible critique of the administration's actions. Of course, it left Mr. Kerry open to rejoinders by Mr. Bush that Mr. Kerry had sounded far more warlike about Iraq in his pre-campaign persona. That's a fair comment, and one the senator simply has to live with in this campaign. "As the politics changed, his position changed," Mr. Bush said.


    But when Mr. Bush jabbed at the senator with a reminder about his infamous comment on voting for a war appropriation before he voted against it, Mr. Kerry had finally found an effective answer. While saying he had made a mistake in the way he had expressed himself, the senator added: "But the president made a mistake in invading Iraq. Which is worse?"


    Both men made errors that appeared to be mainly a matter of misspeaking under the pressure of the moment. But Mr. Kerry scored an important point when the president made a more significant slip and talked about the need to go to war because "the enemy attacked us." The person who sent planes smashing into the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, Mr. Kerry reminded the audience, was Osama bin Laden, who was operating from Afghanistan, not Saddam Hussein in Iraq.


    Meanwhile, Mr. Bush, whose body and facial language sometimes seemed downright petulant, insisted, again and again, that by criticizing the way the war is being run, Mr. Kerry was sending "mixed signals" that threatened the success of the effort.


    Before last night's debate, we worried that the long list of rules insisted on by both camps would create a stilted exchange of packaged sound bites. But this campaign was starved for real discussion and substance. Even a format controlled by handlers and spin doctors seemed like a breath of fresh air.


     



    October 1, 2004

    Ending the Cycle of Debt







    One of the biggest reasons that very poor countries can't provide decent education and health care is that they are stuck in a cycle of debt owed to the International Monetary Fund, the World Bank and regional development banks, much of it dating to the 1970's. Most have paid back in interest more than they originally borrowed but haven't been able to touch the principal, and the cycle continues. Nigeria, for example, borrowed $5 billion, has paid back $16 billion and still owes $32 billion on the same debt.


    Everyone involved agrees that this is unjust, and the members of the club of nations known as the G-8, whose finance ministers are meeting in Washington on Friday, have endorsed the concept of debt relief. But concrete proposals have been lacking until very recently. Now the United States is proposing to cancel the debts of the world's 30 poorest countries, and Britain has joined in. The rest of the G-8 should endorse this plan.


    One motivation for President Bush's efforts in this area is that he wants the world to greatly reduce Iraq's debt. He has run into objections from other nations who rightly do not want to see a country like Iraq, with the world's second-largest oil reserves, treated better than, say, Burkina Faso. But Mr. Bush's proposal is also consistent with his longstanding campaign to get the banks to give money, rather than lend it, to the poorest nations.


    Current efforts to reduce these debts are failing. The Heavily Indebted Poor Countries Initiative began in 1996, and was expanded in 1999, with the purpose of eliminating $100 billion in debt from dozens of poor nations. But it has been too slow and limited. It has not reduced debts to manageable levels.


    Poor countries deserve more help to get out from under loans made by banks awash in oil money; a great deal of that loan money went to corrupt dictators. Today, sub-Saharan Africa pays $1.30 in debt service for every dollar it gets in aid, four times what it spends on health care.


    Rich countries have yet to agree on who should pay. Britain has offered to contribute 10 percent of the needed money, but other G-8 countries are not likely to be similarly generous. The Bush administration's solution, that the I.M.F. and the World Bank cover the costs, is the best one. Surprisingly, leaders of those institutions, who had previously opposed financing debt cancellation, now say they are willing. One reason is that the I.M.F. owns more than 103 million ounces of gold, a holdover from the gold standard days that it values at about 10 percent of the market price. By selling a small part of that gold at market rates or by simply revaluing it, the I.M.F. could finance debt cancellation painlessly.




     



    October 1, 2004

    Demise of a Blockbuster Drug







    Merck bowed to the inevitable yesterday when it pulled Vioxx, an arthritis and pain relief drug with $2.5 billion in sales last year, from the market. Evidence that Vioxx may increase the risk of heart attacks and strokes has been accumulating for years, but Merck had always managed to explain it away. The coup de grâce was supplied by new data from a long-term clinical trial that unequivocally showed a small risk of cardiovascular harm in patients taking the drug longer than 18 months. It was the latest twist in a sorry tale of how drugs in this class, known as Cox-2 inhibitors, have been oversold.


    Vioxx and its chief rival, Celebrex, made by Pfizer, were originally promoted as an advance over such older anti-inflammatory painkillers as ibuprofen, the main ingredient in Advil and Motrin, and naproxen, Aleve's main ingredient. There is no evidence that the two drugs are any more effective at easing pain, but they were expected to reduce the gastrointestinal side effects, like ulcers and bleeding, that occur in a small percentage of patients on other anti-inflammatory drugs. Thousands of Americans die each year from such gastrointestinal complications. But as it turns out, Vioxx poses an unexpected risk, and the other two drugs in that class, Celebrex and another Pfizer drug, Bextra, have never been clearly shown to reduce ulcers and bleeding.


    The belated discovery that Vioxx can be harmful suggests that federal regulators will need to ensure that the other Cox-2 inhibitors, both those on the market and those moving up through the pipeline, are tested long enough to ensure their safety in prolonged use. All anti-inflammatory drugs carry some risk, especially if taken for years at a time.




     



    October 1, 2004

    Not in America







    Amid the shock and shame of the Abu Ghraib prison scandal, President Bush vowed that the administration would firmly rededicate the nation to upholding the United Nations' convention against torture. So it was alarming to hear reports from Capitol Hill that the administration supports a draconian proposal to round up foreigners on mere suspicions and send them home to nations notorious for engaging in torture and abuse. The proposal is part of the House's omnibus bill for repairing the national intelligence system - a retrogressive measure that prompted the White House this week to claim to be embracing the Senate's far more sensible version, which stays focused on intelligence agencies.


    President Bush himself must make it clear to Congress's Republican leaders that he does, indeed, stand behind the U.N. convention, which bars the deportation of foreigners to homelands found to torture and persecute dissenters. White House officials insisted earlier this week that the administration would oppose poison-pill attachments like this, which could undermine the passage of real reform. But the office of the House speaker, Dennis Hastert, told The Washington Post that the Justice Department fully supports these powers, which would let officials arbitrarily exile suspects who have not been tried or convicted of anything. The burden of proof would be shifted unfairly to the person facing deportation to offer "clear and convincing evidence" that torture would result.


    This provision, far from living up to the president's anti-torture vow during the Iraqi prisoner scandal, would undermine it. Human rights groups estimate that hundreds of deportees could be persecuted. Even worse, the measure would be retroactive, creating a fast disposal system for Afghan and Iraqi detainees now wallowing in isolated cells. "If you can't detain them indefinitely, you sure don't want them in America," a spokesman for Mr. Hastert, John Feehery, blithely explained to The Post.




     



    October 1, 2004

    OP-ED COLUMNIST


    Sacrifice and Sabotage


    By BOB HERBERT





    Viola Gregg Liuzzo is not a name that rings many bells anymore.


    Mrs. Liuzzo, a white woman who lived in Detroit, was 39 years old, married and the mother of five when she decided, early in 1965, to head south to volunteer her services in the brutal struggle to get blacks the right to vote. She told her husband it was something she just had to do.


    She participated in the now legendary march along Route 80, the Jefferson Davis Highway, from Selma to Montgomery, Ala. The march was led by the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. When it was over, Mrs. Liuzzo offered to drive some of the marchers back to Selma in her two-year-old Oldsmobile.


    On the return trip to Montgomery on the night of March 25, Mrs. Liuzzo was accompanied only by a black teenager. On a desolate stretch of the highway, they were overtaken by a car filled with enraged Ku Klux Klansmen and an undercover F.B.I. agent. Mrs. Liuzzo was shot in the face and killed. The car ended up in a ditch. The teenager survived by pretending he was dead.


    Last night's presidential debate was an important exercise in American-style democracy. But democracy has no real meaning when citizens qualified to vote are deliberately prevented from casting their ballots, or are intimidated to the point where they are too frightened to vote.


    Disenfranchisement comes in many guises. Two professors at the University of Miami did an extensive analysis of so-called voter errors in Miami-Dade County that has not previously been reported on, and that gives us an even more troubling picture of the derailment of democracy in Florida in the 2000 presidential race.


    Bonnie Levin, a professor of neurology and psychology, and Robert C. Duncan, a professor of epidemiology, said the purpose of their study was to examine the demographics associated with the uncounted votes in Miami-Dade, a county that disqualified 27,000 votes.


    Most of the public attention surrounding Florida's disputed election focused on "under-votes," when machines failed to record a vote for some reason - because of the notorious dimples or hanging chads in punch-card ballots, for example.


    Professor Levin told me yesterday that the study convinced her that a much bigger problem in Miami-Dade involved "over-votes," instances in which ballots were reported to have been disqualified because individuals cast votes for more than one presidential candidate.


    In their analysis, the professors factored in variables associated with increased errors, such as advanced age or lower education levels. What they found startled them. The instances of voter errors, after taking all relevant variables into account, was much higher - higher than could reasonably have been expected - in predominantly African-American precincts. And, peculiarly, there was an especially high amount of over-voting among blacks.


    "Although African-American and Hispanic precincts are similar in terms of household income and education, the African-American precincts have many more over-votes and under-votes," the professors wrote. "Interestingly, they differ strongly in party affiliation (African-American predominantly Democrat, Hispanic more Republican)."


    Surprise, surprise.


    Dr. Levin said she did not believe these were the kinds of honest errors one would expect to find in an analysis of voting patterns. Something else was at work. "The data show that it was so specific to certain precincts," she said. "It was so targeted toward African-Americans. There was nothing random about it."


    She said, "The most important finding was that education was not a predictor for African-Americans."


    Now, in the 2004 presidential election, we're already seeing widespread vote-suppression efforts, from the failed attempt by the Jeb Bush administration to use bogus, biased lists of alleged felons to efforts in many parts of the country to prevent the registration of new voters, especially African-Americans.


    The people trampling on voting rights today are following the same ugly tradition that resulted in the disenfranchisement of millions of black Americans and led to the murder of Viola Liuzzo and others.


    At one time it was the Democratic Party that produced the grandmasters in the art of disenfranchisement. Now that torch has been passed to the Republicans. President Bush could put a stop to it, but so far he's chosen not to.


     



    October 1, 2004

    OP-ED COLUMNIST


    America's Lost Respect


    By PAUL KRUGMAN





    "As a result of the American military," President Bush declared last week, "the Taliban is no longer in existence."


    It's unclear whether Mr. Bush misspoke, or whether he really is that clueless. But his claim was in keeping with his re-election strategy, demonstrated once again in last night's debate: a president who has done immense damage to America's position in the world hopes to brazen it out by claiming that failure is success.


    Three years ago, the United States was both feared and respected: feared because of its military supremacy, respected because of its traditional commitment to democracy and the rule of law.


    Since then, Iraq has demonstrated the limits of American military power, and has tied up much of that power in a grinding guerrilla war. This has emboldened regimes that pose a real threat. Three years ago, would North Korea have felt so free to trumpet its conversion of fuel rods into bombs?


    But even more important is the loss of respect. After the official rationales for the Iraq war proved false, and after America failed to make good on its promise to foster democracy in either Afghanistan or Iraq - and, not least, after Abu Ghraib - the world no longer believes that we are the good guys.


    Let's talk for a minute about Afghanistan, which administration officials tout as a success story. They rely on the public's ignorance: voters, they believe, don't know that even though the United States promised to provide Afghanistan with both security and aid during its transition to democracy, it broke those promises. It has allowed the country to slide back into warlordism - and allowed the Taliban to make a comeback.


    These days, Mr. Bush and other administration officials often talk about the 10.5 million Afghans who have registered to vote in this month's election, citing the figure as proof that democracy is making strides after all. They count on the public not to know, and on reporters not to mention, that the number of people registered considerably exceeds all estimates of the eligible population. What they call evidence of democracy on the march is actually evidence of large-scale electoral fraud.


    It's the same story in Iraq: the January election has become the rationale for everything we're doing, yet it's hard to find anyone not beholden to the administration who believes that the election, if it happens at all, will be anything more than a sham.


    Yet Mr. Bush and his Congressional allies seem to have learned nothing from their failures. If Mr. Bush is returned to office, there's every reason to think that they will continue along the same disastrous path.


    We can already see one example of this when we look at the question of torture. Abu Ghraib has largely vanished from U.S. political discussion, largely because the administration and its Congressional allies have been so effective at covering up high-level involvement. But both the revelations and the cover-up did terrible damage to America's moral authority. To much of the world, America looks like a place where top officials condone and possibly order the torture of innocent people, and suffer no consequences.


    What we need is an effort to regain our good name. What we're getting instead is a provision, inserted by Congressional Republicans in the intelligence reform bill, to legalize "extraordinary rendition" - a euphemism for sending terrorism suspects to countries that use torture for interrogation. This would institutionalize a Kafkaesque system under which suspects can be sent, at the government's whim, to Egypt or Syria or Jordan - and to fight such a move, it's up to the suspect to prove that he'll be tortured on arrival. Just what we need to convince other countries of our commitment to the rule of law.


    Most Americans aren't aware of all this. The sheer scale of Mr. Bush's foreign policy failures insulates him from its political consequences: voters aren't ready to believe how badly the war in Iraq is going, let alone how badly America's moral position in the world has deteriorated.


    But the rest of the world has already lost faith in us. In fact, let me make a prediction: if Mr. Bush gets a second term, we will soon have no democracies left among our allies - no, not even Tony Blair's Britain. Mr. Bush will be left with the support of regimes that don't worry about the legalities - regimes like Vladimir Putin's Russia.




     



    October 1, 2004

    OP-ED CONTRIBUTOR


    Retiring Minds Want to Know


    By AUSTAN GOOLSBEE





    Chicago — Even as I.B.M.'s pension difficulties make headlines - the company has agreed to pay current and former employees $320 million to settle some charges that changes to its plan discriminated against older workers - a more serious financial disaster looms for the pension system. Taxpayers could face an even larger bill from corporations' failure to put enough money into their pension funds.


    Yet neither candidate for president even mentions the problem, and Congress has actually made it worse. The crisis concerns the Pension Benefit Guaranty Corporation, the federal agency that insures workers' pensions in case their employer defaults. The agency charges employers a premium for the insurance, and that money is supposed to cover its costs. The system is not supposed to cost taxpayers anything. But a dreadful lack of judgment, coupled with a new federal law, could leave the public with a $100 billion bill.


    In the past two years, the agency has watched its net financial position deteriorate by $20 billion. Overall, corporate pension plans have some $450 billion less than they need to meet their commitments. While corporations are legally required to make these payments unless they declare bankruptcy and can prove they are under "severe financial distress," as much as $100 billion of this bill is owed by companies that are in financial trouble. Just this month, for example, United and US Airways, both of which are already in bankruptcy, announced plans to renege on their pension requirements.


    Why doesn't the agency have the money to cover this shortfall? Fundamentally, it is an insurance company. Higher risk ought to mean higher prices; a regular sky diver, for example, pays higher life insurance premiums. But the pension agency doesn't work that way.


    The agency's fees are unrelated to investment risk. It charges a fixed amount per corporation and an additional fee based on the amount its pension fund is underfinanced. United had about two-thirds of its pension fund in risky investments, including junk bonds and a Ghanaian gold-mining company. Yet if United had invested every dollar in United States Treasury bonds, it would have paid exactly the same premium to the pension agency.


    Thus corporations have little incentive to invest workers' retirement savings wisely. If a bet wins big, a corporation can add that money to the pension plan and keep the funds it would otherwise have been required to contribute. If it loses big, the government will bail it out.


    Congress is doing its best to make financial catastrophe more likely. In April, it passed a law that changed accounting rules to make it easier for companies to underfinance pensions. It also gave some companies in the two industries with the worst pension problems - airlines and steel - a two-year waiver from the usual requirement that they close their pension gaps with their own money and allowed them to defer some payments.


    Unsurprisingly, they are taking advantage of the opportunity. Continental Airlines, for example, recently announced it would not make a contribution this year to its employees' pension plan. If these corporations declare bankruptcy and default on their pensions, the government bailout will need to be that much larger. According to the pension agency, this law could reduce company contributions by more than $80 billion.


    Congress should not be making it easier for corporations to shirk their pension obligations - and neither President Bush nor Senator John Kerry should remain silent when they do. (While Mr. Bush signed the bill into law, neither Mr. Kerry nor his running mate, John Edwards, were present the day the bill passed in the Senate.) If Washington were truly concerned about workers, it would ensure that the pension agency remains solvent. One step in the right direction would be to have the agency charge higher premiums for corporations that make risky investments.


    In the meantime, workers with old-style pensions should know that they are at risk of losing a great deal - a prospect that has become all too real for many employees in the airline industry, who frequently gave up wage increases in part for the promise of more generous pensions. Those pensions will be greatly reduced if the pension agency takes over.


    It may be too late for many such employees to rescue their pensions. But it's not too late for Congress to act to ensure that employers, not taxpayers, pay more to protect the retirement of working Americans.



    Austan Goolsbee is a professor of economics at the University of Chicago Graduate School of Business.



September 29, 2004











  • Posted on Tue, Sep. 28, 2004



    Stressed out: Under pressure

    STUDIES, ACTIVITIES TO IMPRESS COLLEGES TAKE TOLL ON TEENS

    Read This! Writer

    You've felt it. The last-minute panic as you furiously cram for a big test, the ubiquitous pressure to get into a ``good'' college, the disappointment when you don't score as high as you would have liked on the SAT.


    Stress. It's everywhere, especially in high school.


    Students seem to be under increasing pressure to do well in school not for their own enrichment but as a stepping stone toward that elusive college dream.


    They take advanced placement or international baccalaureate courses to impress colleges. Some participate in activities such as journalism, debate, sports and volunteer services not to enjoy themselves or learn a new activity but to pad applications.


    Striving to be the best


    ``The question becomes, `How many APs can I take and how much can I raise my GPA?' '' says Tracy Chou, a senior at St. Francis High School in Mountain View.


    And it's not just to placate their parents or counselors. While a fair amount of pressure comes from both of these sources, even more emanates from the students themselves, who strive to outperform classmates.


    ``My parents do put some pressure on me,'' says Chou, who recently made the news for earning the highest possible scores on several key tests: SAT, ACT and several AP exams. ``But now it's mostly just me wanting to do better. I don't feel comfortable taking it easy and goofing off when I'm surrounded by all these people trying to boost their GPAs and get good grades.''


    Susan Drake, a guidance counselor at Gunn High School in Palo Alto, agrees. ``It's driven by the community we live in. They think that if they're not doing what their friends are doing, they won't have a chance.''


    Many are not even sure why they are working toward this goal.


    ``Students have lost sight of their ultimate goal because of the way colleges package their information,'' Drake says. ``They take a cookie-cutter approach to admission rather than finding their own individual voice.''


    The pressure builds


    While students tend to place the blame on external sources, including parents and peers, or on their own drive to do well, many also procrastinate and become even more stressed by the last-minute work.


    ``As a high school student you do eight hours of work a day and you don't want to come home and do more, so you procrastinate,'' says Monica Alba, a senior at Presentation High School in San Jose. ``Don't procrastinate. If you do things on time, you'll find yourself much happier.''


    That stress can start building from an early age -- as early as kindergarten, according to an 2002 article on WebMD, a health-news Web site. When a teen finally gets to the high-pressure environment of high school, the stress can be even more intense.


    And what exactly happens when, suddenly, everything is too much?


    ``Right now -- three weeks into school -- I'm already seeing three kids that are having actual physical problems because of stress,'' says Cindy Gowen, a student advocate who works at Fremont High School in Sunnyvale. ``At some point, it just becomes overwhelming.''


    ``Sometimes there's just so much I want to do, and so much I'm excited to be doing,'' says Hannah Friedman, a junior at Fremont High, ``that I end up just sitting there and not having the energy to do anything except think about what I don't have the energy to do.''


    The consequences can stretch beyond the inability to juggle activities, making the mental pressure a huge issue.


    Teens can internalize that pressure, Gowen says, ``and it becomes a voice in their head.''


    The big picture


    Some students, however, see the bigger picture, picking extracurricular activities that cater to their passions and goals -- instead of just filling a spot on a college application.


    ``I understand that I'm choosing to do these activities. It comes to a point where you have to choose between extracurriculars or homework,'' Alba says.


    Although she is applying to several top colleges, Alba also does not feel pressured to get into a certain university.


    ``I'm not expected to get into a name-brand school. It'll be OK with me and my parents if I don't end up wearing a Harvard sweatshirt,'' she says.


    ``I'm working toward getting into a college that I can help build a foundation for the career that I want to build. I'm working toward doing what I love.''






    Ragini Kathail is a junior at Pinewood School in Palo Alto. Read This! writer Anna Westendorf, a senior at Fremont High School in Sunnyvale, contributed to this report.




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September 26, 2004






  • Skip Gates
    Henry Louis Gates Jr. will remain as chair of the Afro-American Studies Department and director of the W.E.B. Du Bois Institute. Gates commented, 'I have been deeply touched by the outpouring of support and affection from my colleagues on the faculty, students at Harvard, President Summers, and Dean Kirby.' (Staff photo by Justin Ide)


     


    Henry Louis Gates Jr. to continue at Harvard:


    Renowned scholar will continue as chair of Afro-American Studies Department and director of W.E.B. Du Bois Institute


    Lawrence H. Summers, president of Harvard University, and William C. Kirby, dean of the Faculty of Arts and Sciences (FAS), announced today that W.E.B. Du Bois Professor of the Humanities Henry Louis "Skip" Gates Jr., will continue as chair of the Afro-American Studies Department and director of the W.E.B. Du Bois Institute for Afro-American Research at Harvard University.



    "Harvard University is committed to remaining pre-eminent in Afro-American Studies. I am delighted that Professor Gates will continue his leadership of our Department of Afro-American Studies and of the W.E.B. Du Bois Institute for Afro-American Research," Summers said.


    "I look forward to working with Skip and his colleagues and with those who will join the department and the Du Bois Institute in the months and years ahead. The important issues surrounding the African-American experience deserve Harvard's fullest attention. Skip brings unsurpassed commitment, energy, and creativity to these critical questions, and we are very pleased that he will continue his significant work here at Harvard," Summers concluded.


    Dean Kirby said, "I am very pleased to announce that Professor Gates will remain at Harvard, and that he will continue to lead us from strength to strength, building an even better department and W.E.B. Du Bois Institute for Afro-American Research. His extraordinary scholarship, vision, and commitment have helped to make Harvard's Afro-American Studies department pre-eminent in the nation. His charisma, leadership, and unbounded energy have touched the lives of faculty and students across the Faculty of Arts and Sciences and, indeed, the entire University."


    "With the unfortunate departure of Anthony Appiah and Cornel West, the department is in a period of transition. Because of my devotion to the department and the Du Bois Institute, I felt it crucial that I remain here and join my colleagues in this exciting process of rebuilding. In the last few months, we have attracted significant talent to the department, including renowned scholar Evelynn M. Hammonds, and we have the opportunity to bring more people here," Gates said.


    "I have been deeply touched by the outpouring of support and affection from my colleagues on the faculty, students at Harvard, President Summers, and Dean Kirby," Gates continued. "And, I have no doubt that the administration is committed to maintaining our status as the number one department in our field. Therefore, despite an extremely appealing opportunity to join Professor Appiah and Professor West in building Afro-American studies at Princeton, I have decided to remain on the faculty at Harvard. But, there is no doubt that Princeton has emerged as a major center of Afro-American studies. And, I applaud the leadership and vision of President Tilghman and Provost Gutmann because we need multiple centers of excellence in our field, and Princeton is one of these."


    With 40 honorary degrees, Gates is a world-renowned scholar and teacher of African and African-American history and culture. He has authored seven books and written numerous essays and reviews on a broad range of African and African-American issues, including slavery, race, feminism, dialect, and identity. In 1989 he won the American Book Award for "The Signifying Monkey: A Theory of Afro-American Literary Criticism." And, he recently completed his second major documentary, "America Beyond the Color Line," to be aired in 2003.


    In 2000, Gates authored, along with Cornel West, the widely acclaimed "The African American Century: How Black Americans Have Shaped Our Century." That came on the heels of the authoritative and groundbreaking "Africana: The Encyclopedia of the African and African American Experience," a collaboration with K. Anthony Appiah. It was also published on a CD-ROM as "Encarta Africana" by Microsoft.


    Gates, who has been a leading scholar of African-American studies for nearly three decades, began his tenure at Harvard in 1991 after having worked on the faculties of such distinguished universities as Duke, Cornell, and Yale. He is a 1973 summa cum laude, Phi Beta Kappa graduate of Yale, and earned his M.A. and Ph.D. (1979) from Clare College, The University of Cambridge. He burst into the view of many Americans in 1983 when he discovered and published "Our Nig; or Sketches From the Life of a Free Black, In a Two Story White House, North. Showing that Slavery's Shadows Fall Even There." The slim volume was, at the time, the earliest known novel by an African-American female author. More recently, he authenticated the first novel by a female fugitive slave, "The Bondwoman's Narrative" by Hanna Crafts.


    Gates has received dozens of awards and honors, including the National Humanities Award presented by President Bill Clinton in 1998, the MacArthur Prize, and the Jefferson Lectureship. He has been named one of the "25 Most Influential Americans" by Time magazine.


    For more information about Afro-American Studies and the W.E.B. Du Bois Institute at Harvard University, please visit: http://www.fas.harvard.edu/~afroam/About_Afro-Am/about_afro-am.html.


     


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    Getting to Average


    By HENRY LOUIS GATES JR.





    When black policy types let themselves dream about racial uplift, they dream about getting to average. The fantasy isn't that inequality vanishes; it's that inequality in black America catches up with inequality in white America. And, for the moment, a fantasy is all it is. Since the 1968 assassination of Martin Luther King Jr., the black middle class has increased significantly, yet the percentage of black children living in poverty has hovered between 30 and 40 percent.


    "Look at what we could achieve if we got to be average!" Franklin Raines, the C.E.O. of Fannie Mae, told me. "We don't need to take everybody from the ghetto and make them Harvard graduates. We just need to get folks to average, and we'd all look around and say, 'My God, what a fundamental change has happened in this country.' "


    How big a change? He's done the math. "If America had racial equality in education and jobs, African-Americans would have two million more high school degrees, two million more college degrees, nearly two million more professional and managerial jobs, and nearly $200 billion more income," he pointed out in a speech. "If America had racial equality in housing, three million more Americans would own their own homes. And if America had racial equality in wealth, African-Americans would have $760 billion more in equity value, $200 billion more in the stock market, $120 billion more in their retirement funds and $80 billion more in the bank." Total: Over $1 trillion.


    Recently, I asked a few experts on poverty in black America about how we might get to average. I heard a lot of deep breaths. When they picture black America, they see Buffalo - a boarded-up central city and a few lakefront mansions. The glory days for the black working class were from 1940 to 1970, when manufacturing boomed and factory jobs were plentiful. But when the manufacturing sector became eclipsed by the service economy, black workers ended up - well, stuck in a demographic Buffalo.


    My colleague William Julius Wilson, the sociologist, thinks better manpower policies would help. Once black workers moved to where the jobs were; they need to do it again. Instead of trying to turn ghettos into boomtowns, then, we ought to provide workers with relocation assistance, and create "transitional public sector jobs" for those who haven't yet found a private-sector gig. Oh, and - since we're dreaming - fixing the schools would be nice, including "school-to-work transition programs," to place high school grads in the job market.


    Raines, as you might expect, considers homeownership to be crucial to wealth generation. "The average person develops more wealth in their home than they do in the stock market. Next to a job, it's the most important thing in a family's lives." Blacks, he notes, are considerably less likely to own their own homes than whites.


    How to afford one, though? "The whole new service economy is fundamentally based on communications, the Internet, electronics," he told me. "That infrastructure is going to need people who can manage it, and those jobs are going to move from very high tech to being service jobs, just the way it happened at the telephone company. You used to have to be a scientist to operate a phone, and then it became a blue-collar job."


    But maybe, as the economist Glenn Loury suggests, we need to aim lower. "There doesn't seem to be an end in sight to the vast, disproportionate overrepresentation of African-Americans in prison or jails," he told me. "It's our deepest problem." Job training for willing prisoners would be a good start.


    Loury considers welfare reform a success: "We ask a lot more of mothers, and they have given us a lot more, and they and we are both better off for our having asked." When it comes to education, though, he advocates "equal expenditures per kid, no matter where they live." In fact, he'd spend more money on inferior school districts, at least over the short run, to bring them up to standard.


    Would any of these initiatives really make much of a difference in an age of offshoring? As everyone I spoke to agreed, we're unlikely to find out. There just isn't the political will, in either party. The White House has relegated its costly experiments in social engineering to Iraq. And so the 60's generation now seems to be presiding over the permanent entrenchment of a vast black underclass.


    Has average really become too much to ask for?



    Henry Louis Gates Jr. is a guest columnist through September. Thomas L. Friedman is on book leave.



    E-mail: hlgates@nytimes.com




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September 24, 2004


  •  


    The Old College Try



    October 8, 2003
     
    A s this year's batch of college aspirants undergoes the traditional rites of test-taking, application writing, and anxious waiting, the Atlantic's November issue seeks, with its first annual "College-Admissions Survey," to offer some much-needed perspective. Five articles by James Fallows and others shed light on such factors as the increasingly chaotic and commercialized manner in which colleges select students and vice versa, the myths versus the realities about what makes a college good, and what happens to applicants who don't get in anywhere.

    The goal of this package, the editors explain, is to tease out the "real admissions system" from the needlessly stressful and counterproductive "trophy admissions system," and to reassure those now in the throes of the process that finding the right school can be a far simpler and more rewarding matter than clawing one's way into somebody else's idea of the "best":


    Admissions is a battlefield in a brutal competition for prestige. Everyone in America's college-aspirant class understands how this works. "Going Ivy" is a win. Being stuck at a safety school is a loss. The real admissions system is creative in finding room for everyone. The trophy admissions system is a you-versus-me competition for a limited number of spaces at a handful of schools. The real system emphasizes how many places a student might be happy. The trophy system emphasizes how few. The real system puts its greatest stress on what a student will do after he or she starts college. The trophy system cares only where he or she gets in....

    The more clearly students and their parents understand how many choices they have, and how hard the real system will try to find the right match for them, the more confident they should be.

    Today's preoccupation with the college-admissions process, of course, is hardly a new development. Indeed, as a number of Atlantic articles (ranging from the recent to the distant past) attest, who gets in where—and why—has been a matter of debate for more than a century.

    In his September 2001 cover story
    "The Early-Decision Racket," James Fallows argued that early-decision admissions, an option now offered by many colleges, is an unfortunate practice that artificially boosts colleges' "selectivity," heightens the anxiety level of high-school students, and offers unfair advantages to wealthy applicants. In a related feature, "Confessions of a Prep School College Counselor," Caitlin Flanagan, a former college advisor at a California private school, reported on the seemingly irrational and incomprehensible crazes that make one elite school more popular than another, and reviewed a sampling of the many guidebooks that claim to offer the inside scoop on getting in. Flanagan suggested that neuroses about college admissions have worsened of late, and her anecdotal evidence about differences in attitude between today's beleaguered high school students and their parents—who recount their own much more laid-back approach to college selection—supported that contention.

    In
    "The Organization Kid" (April 2001), a discourse on the pliant character of today's youth, David Brooks implied a strong connection between today's intensity of concern about getting into the right college and the slavishly conformist perfectionism which he argued now characterizes too many young people.


    Kids of all stripes lead lives that are structured, supervised, and stuffed with enrichment....

    The world they live in seems fundamentally just. If you work hard, behave pleasantly, explore your interests, volunteer your time, obey the codes of political correctness, and take the right pills to balance your brain chemistry, you will be rewarded with a wonderful ascent in the social hierarchy. You will get into Princeton.... There is a fundamental order to the universe, and it works. If you play by its rules and defer to its requirements, you will lead a pretty fantastic life.

    Other articles have taken aim not at the applicants themselves, but at colleges trying too hard to woo them. In a March 1998 review of Michael S. McPherson and Morton O. Schapiro's The Student Aid Game, Donald Kennedy described how more and more colleges are using financial incentives to attract students. Second-tier colleges, he explained, frequently lure rich achievers by offering them free rides, while offering little or nothing to disadvantaged students whose clear enthusiasm for a particular college suggests that they will find a way to attend anyway. Kennedy argued that "need-blind" admissions policies (whereby qualified students are admitted, and aid is distributed afterward based on need) better serve both individual students and society at large.


    Higher education should be accessible to students of high aptitude and accomplishment without regard to their ability to pay. It reflects both the meritocratic conviction that society needs the best minds and the egalitarian view that the opportunity to be at the top of the merit heap should be open to all.

    Twenty years earlier, in "The Marketing of the Colleges" (October 1979), Edward B. Fiske, the author of The Fiske Guide to Colleges, warned that, in response to a decrease in the number of college-age kids, many schools were going to extravagant—and ethically questionable—lengths to attract enough students to stay in business.


    Colleges run free bus trips to the campus or stage songfests, magic shows, and juggling acts in shopping centers. One midwestern college sends unsolicited letters to high school seniors which begin, "Congratulations! You've been accepted." At the last minute Northern Kentucky University canceled plans to release hundreds of balloons in a park in downtown Cincinnati, some containing scholarship offers which totaled $26,000....

    Before we reach the point where Harvard is advertising on matchbook covers, we should probably consider whether selling education is significantly different from selling cars or soap.

    Still other articles have considered the validity of tests purporting to measure the relative fitness of applicants for college admission. In "The Tests and the 'Brightest': How Fair Are the College Boards?" (February 1980), James Fallows argued that the Scholastic Aptitude Test has not turned out to be the agent of meritocracy its creators intended: studies show that it in effect serves more as a measure of standardized test-taking skill and of exposure to upper-middle-class culture than as a measure of general academic ability.


    Standardized tests, created to offset one kind of privilege, have merely enshrined a different kind. The tests measure something, probably something of value—but whatever it is, it's clearly a symptom of social advantage.

    Finally, in a May, 1892, article entitled "The Present Requirements for Admission to Harvard College," James Jay Greenough attempted to assure concerned readers that recent efforts to shift the focus of Harvard's admissions tests from surveys of memorized knowledge to dynamic assessments of reasoning ability, along with the abandonment of Ancient Greek as a strict requirement for admission, did not in fact mean that "Harvard has lowered her standards" or "has made it easier to enter her doors."

    These days, of course, the worry is not low admissions standards, but high ones—that is, how difficult it is to get into the few dozen or so most selective schools. Given the extent to which the college a person attends is thought to shape one's chances for success in life, it is unsurprising that the college-admissions system remains such a significant source of anxiety and concern. Regardless of how the process evolves and what reforms are implemented, college admissions will undoubtedly continue to preoccupy Americans for years to come.


    —Sage Stossel


     

     

     

     

    The Atlantic Monthly | September 2001 

     

    The Early-Decision Racket




    Early-decision programs—whereby a student applies early to a single school, receives an early answer, and promises to attend if accepted—have added an insane intensity to middle-class obsessions about college. They also distort the admissions process, rewarding the richest students from the most exclusive high schools and penalizing nearly everyone else. But the incentives for many colleges and students are as irresistable as they are perverse
     
    by James Fallows
     
    .....
     


    In 1978 Willis J. Stetson, known as Lee, became the dean of admissions at the University of Pennsylvania. The new job was quite a challenge. Penn at the time was in a weak position. In an era when big-city crime rates were still rising, its location in West Philadelphia was a handicap. Its promotional efforts took pains to point out that despite its name, the University of Pennsylvania was a private university and a member of the Ivy League, like Yale and Harvard, not of a state system, like the University of Texas. But within the Ivy League, Penn had acquired the role of backup or safety school for many applicants. "I would estimate that in the 1970s maybe forty percent of the students considered Penn their first choice," Stetson told me recently. For the rest, Penn was the place that had said yes when their first choice had said no.

    Stetson's job, and that of the Penn administration in general, was to make the school so much more attractive that students with a range of options would happily choose to enroll. Through the next decade the campaign to make Penn more desirable was a success. As urban life became safer and more alluring, Penn's location, like Columbia's, became an asset rather than a problem. Stetson and his staff traveled widely to introduce the school to potential applicants. When Stetson first visited the Harvard School, a private school for boys in California's San Fernando Valley, he found that few students had even heard of Penn. The school is now coed and known as Harvard-Westlake, and of the 261 seniors who graduated last June, more than a quarter applied to Penn. The Lawrenceville School, in New Jersey, and Phillips Exeter Academy, in New Hampshire, have in recent years sent more students to Penn than to any other college. Colleges may complain bitterly about rankings of their relative quality, especially the
    "America's Best Colleges" list that U.S. News & World Report publishes every fall, but a college is quick to cite its ranking as a sign of improvement when its position rises. When U.S. News published its first list of best colleges, in 1983, Penn was not even ranked among national universities. Last year it was tied with Stanford for No. 6—ahead of Dartmouth, Columbia, Cornell, and Brown in the Ivy League, and of Duke and the University of Chicago.

    Penn's improvement through the 1980s was due largely to its shrewd recruitment and marketing efforts. Then, in the early 1990s, like all other colleges, it encountered a "baby bust"—a drop in the total number of college applicants, caused by a fall in birth rates eighteen years before. Penn coped with that change by investing in its curriculum, faculty, and physical plant. It also made unusually effective use of the most controversial tactic in today's elite-college admissions business: the "early decision" program.

    Early decision has helped not only Penn. It holds so many advantages for so many colleges that its use has grown steadily over the past decade and mushroomed in the past five years. But the advantages it gives these institutions are outweighed by the harm it does to most students and to the college-selection process. In the view of many high school counselors, it has added an insane intensity to parents' obsession about getting their children into one of a handful of prestigious colleges. Everyone involved with the early-decision process admits that it rewards the richest students from the most exclusive high schools and penalizes nearly everyone else.

    The rise of early decision has coincided with, and may have contributed to, the under-reported fact that the Scholastic Aptitude Test, or SAT, is becoming more rather than less influential in determining who gets into college—despite continual criticism of the SAT's structure and effects, and despite the proposal this year from Richard Atkinson, the head of the vast University of California system, that UC campuses no longer consider SAT scores when assessing applicants. The increased use of early decision shows the strong drive for colleges to make themselves look better statistically. The increased emphasis on SAT scores shows the same thing.

    Today's high school students and their parents have no choice but to adapt their applications strategies to the way early decision has changed the nature of college admissions. Tomorrow's students should hope that the increasingly obvious drawbacks of the system will lead to its elimination.




    How Early Decision Works



    High school college-admissions counselors often describe their work as a matchmaking process. What they mean to suggest is the great diversity of potential partners, the need to find a match that suits each student, and the reality that if things don't click with one partner, there are many other candidates.

    Early decision, or ED, is an arranged marriage: both parties gain security at the expense of freedom. But the loss is asymmetrical, constraining the student much more than the institution. That is why many counselors view ED as a device promoted by colleges for their own purposes, with incidental benefits to other institutions and companies—but not to students. Seppy Basili, a vice-president of Kaplan, Inc., the test-prep firm formerly known as Stanley Kaplan, says that an emphasis on earlier applications and admissions has been a boon for his company. "We're seeing kids come to us earlier, prepare earlier, prepare more, and from a business aspect that's great," he says. The most experienced counselors at private schools and strong public high schools can also turn ED programs to their advantage, he says, because they know how to exploit the opportunities the system has created. "It would be naive to think we could ever come up with a system that would not allow someone to play games," Basili says, "but it seems like this one is built for people to play games."

    Here is how the game is played. In the regular decision process, which most students still follow, students spend the first semester of their senior year deciding on the group of colleges—four, six, thirty-three in one extreme case I heard about—to which they wish to apply. Regular applications are generally due by January 1. The colleges take three months to consider the applications, and respond by early April. Students have until May 1—the single deadline in this cycle adhered to by most colleges—to send a deposit to the school they want to attend and a "No, thanks" to any other that has accepted them. The colleges tally the returns and adjust the size of their incoming classes by accepting students on their waiting lists.

    In ED programs students start their senior year ready to choose the one college they would most like to attend, and having already taken their SATs. An early applicant is allowed to make only one ED application, and it is due in the beginning or the middle of November. The college has about a month to deliberate and responds by mid-December. If the answer is no, the student has two weeks to send out regular applications to schools on his or her backup list. If the answer is yes, the process is over, because by virtue of applying early, the student has promised to attend the college if accepted. How is this enforced? Mainly through counselors, who know when a student has been admitted ED and agree not to send official transcripts to other schools.

    A similar-sounding but different program is called early action, or EA. The similarity is that students' applications are due in November and they get a response by December. The difference is that the EA agreement is not binding: even after getting a yes, the student can apply to other places in the regular way and wait until May to make a choice. Six years ago Yale and Princeton switched from early action to binding early decision, and Stanford, which had previously resisted all early programs, instituted a binding ED plan. For this fall's applications Brown has switched from EA to binding ED. The remaining major colleges that still offer nonbinding EA plans include Cal Tech, the University of Chicago, Georgetown, Harvard, MIT, and Notre Dame.

    Below this formal structure lies a crucial reality, which Penn is almost alone in forthrightly disclosing: students have a much better chance of being admitted if they apply early decision than if they wait to join the regular pool.

    For instance, when selecting its class of 2004, which entered college last fall, Yale admitted more than a third (37 percent) of the students who applied early and less than a sixth (16 percent) of those who applied regular. The most extreme difference among major colleges was at Columbia, where 40 percent of the earlies and 14 percent of the regulars were accepted. Amherst accepted 35 percent of the earlies and 19 percent of the regulars. Hamilton College, in upstate New York, took 70 percent of the earlies and 43 percent of the regulars. At the University of Pennsylvania 47 percent of early applicants and 26 percent of regular applicants were admitted.

    These comparisons obviously count for something. The chance of being lost in the shuffle was presumably less among Princeton's 1,825 ED applicants last year, of whom 31 percent (559) were accepted, than among its 11,900 regulars, of whom about 11 percent got in. But these simple comparisons make the early advantage look larger than it really is. At very selective schools like Princeton students in the ED pool have better grades and higher test scores than regular applicants, so it could be called fair and logical that a higher proportion of them get in. Harvard admits more than a quarter of its nonbinding early-action applicants and only a ninth of its regular pool. William Fitzsimmons, Harvard's director of admissions, says that standards applied to its early and regular applicants are identical: the difference in acceptance rate, he claims, comes purely from the fact that so many students with a good chance of being admitted apply early, whereas the regular pool contains a larger proportion of long shots. "We put on our 'spring hats,'" he told me recently, "and if there is someone we are absolutely sure we will admit in the spring, we make the offer in the fall. We are very comfortable with these decisions."

    The real question about the ED skew is whether the prospects for any given student differ depending on when he or she applies. Last fall Christopher Avery, of Harvard's Kennedy School of Government, and several colleagues produced smoking-gun evidence that they do. The authors analyzed five years' worth of admissions records from fourteen selective colleges, involving a total of 500,000 applications, and interviewed 400 college students, sixty high school seniors, and thirty-five counselors. They found that at the ED schools an early application was worth as much in the competition for admission as scoring 100 extra points on the SAT. For instance, a student with a combined SAT score of 1400 to 1490 (out of 1600) who applied early was as likely to be accepted as a regular-admission student scoring 1500 to 1600. An early student scoring 1200 to 1290 was more likely to be accepted than a regular student scoring 1300 to 1390.

    The equivalent of a 100-point increase in SAT scores makes an enormous difference in an applicant's chances, especially for a mid-1400s candidate. Indeed, the difference is so important as to be a highly salable commodity. A gain of roughly 100 points is what The Princeton Review guarantees students who invest $500 and up in its test-prep courses. The Avery study's findings were the more striking because what admissions officers refer to as "hooked" applicants were excluded from the study. These are students given special consideration, and therefore likely to be admitted despite lower scores, because of "legacy" factors (alumni parents or other relatives, plus past or potential donations from the family), specific athletic recruiting, or affirmative action.

    A counselor at a private school that has long sent many of its graduates to Penn showed me a list of the students from that school who had applied to Penn last year. The students were listed in order of their high school grade-point average—usually the strongest single factor in college admissions—with indications of whether they had applied early or regular and whether they had been accepted or not. Some students far down in the class who applied early were accepted; some students thirty or forty places above them in class rank who applied regular were denied. The counselor did not stop to calculate exactly how much an early decision was "worth" in terms of grade-point average, but it clearly made a difference.



    What's in It for the Colleges?



    The more selective the college, the harder it is for outsiders to determine why any particular student was or was not accepted. Were too many kids applying from the same school? (At most colleges each admissions officer is responsible for screening applications from a certain group of schools: the advantage is that the officers become very sophisticated about the strengths of each school, and the disadvantage is that they inevitably compare each school's applicants with one another and send only the relatively strongest along.) Was the college recruiting for a certain athletic or musical skill? Was this boy admitted because of a legacy preference? Would that girl have gotten in if her parents had been more consistent donors?

    When pressed for explanations, admissions officers usually avoid discussing specific cases and talk instead about the varied interests they must try to balance in "crafting" each freshman class. But under the unusually candid Lee Stetson, Penn has exposed some of the inner workings of the black box that is the admissions process. "We have had a policy in place for close to thirty years that legacy applications are given special consideration only during early decision," Stetson told me last spring. The reasoning, he explained, is that if a legacy candidate is not sure enough about coming to Penn to apply ED, then Penn has no real stake in offering preferential consideration later on. "Years ago many children of alums were not viewing Penn as their first choice, so they didn't apply early," he said. "We said we were willing to give them a measure of preference, but only if they were serious about coming." It made sense, he added, for Penn to extend the policy to applicants in general: if they are extra serious about Penn, Penn will make an extra effort for them. "We've been very direct about it," Stetson told me. "Everybody likes to be loved, and we're no exception. Everybody likes to see a sign of commitment, and it helps in the selection process." Bruce Poch, the admissions director at Pomona College, in California, is generally a critic of an overemphasis on early plans, but he agrees that they can help morale. "It's worth something to the institution to enroll kids who view the college as their first choice," he says. "Fewer people are whining about transferring from Day One. They turn out to be a lot of the campus leaders." This was part of Penn's strategy in pushing its binding ED plan. "I would say that these days eighty percent of our students view Penn as their first choice," Lee Stetson concluded. "You can't overstate what that does for the mood of the campus."

    It does something else as well, which is understood by every college administrator in the country but by very few parents or students. The more freshmen a college admits under a binding ED plan, the fewer acceptances it needs from the regular pool to fill its class—and the better it will look statistically. That statistical improvement can have significant consequences.


    The natural tendency to esteem what is rare—a place in, say, an Ivy League freshman class—has been dramatically reinforced by the growth of journalistic rankings of colleges. The U.S. News list ranks national universities from 1 through 50, national liberal-arts colleges from 1 through 50, and other institutions in other ways. It remains the best known of the rankings, but many other publications now provide similar features. (I was the editor of U.S. News from 1996 to 1998.)

    College administrators dispute both the technical basis on which these rankings are compiled and the larger idea that institutions with very different purposes can be considered better or worse than one another. Cal Tech, for example, is so different from Yale that whether it is better or worse depends on an individual student's aims. But everyone involved with college admissions and administration recognizes that the rankings have enormous impact. They affect the number of students who apply to a school, donations from alumni, pride and satisfaction among students and faculty members, and even the terms on which colleges can borrow money in the financial markets. Like getting to the Final Four in college basketball or winning a prominent post-season football game, moving up in the college rankings makes everything easier for a college's administrators.

    When the U.S. News rankings began, they were based purely on a reputational survey, similar to polls of coaches for college-football standings: college administrators were asked to list the institutions they considered best, and from these figures U.S. News compiled its list. Year by year U.S. News added more variables to its ranking formula, such as financial resources, graduation rate, and student-faculty ratio. Most of these variables are difficult for a college to change over the short term. Indeed, the only ones guaranteed to change year by year are those involving the admissions office: the number of students who apply, the proportion who are accepted, the SAT scores of those who are admitted, and the proportion of those accepted who ultimately enroll. "Institutions of higher education are much more competitive with each other on a whole variety of measures than you would think," says Karl Furstenberg, the dean of admissions at Dartmouth. "Because it is an annual activity, admissions is one aspect of university life where you can have a more immediate impact on the character of an institution than you can in the long-term process of building academic programs."


    The statistical measures that matter here are a college's selectivity and its yield. They are related, and both are taken as indicators of a school's desirability. Selectivity measures how hard a school is to get into. A school that accepts one applicant out of four, like the University of California at Berkeley, is more selective than one that accepts two out of three, like UC Davis. To the extent that college admission is seen as a trophy, the more applicants a given college rejects, the happier those it accepts—and their parents—will be.

    A college's yield is the proportion of students offered admission who actually attend. If selectivity measures how frequently a college rejects students, yield measures how frequently students accept a college. In practice yield measures "takeaways"; if Georgetown gets a student who was also admitted to Duke, Boston College, and Northwestern, it scores a takeaway from each of the other schools. The higher the yield and the larger the number of takeaways, the more desirable the school is thought to be. "In a typical year Stanford would let in twenty-five hundred kids to get a class of fifteen hundred," says Jonathan Reider, a former admissions officer at Stanford who is now the college-admissions director at University High School, a private school in San Francisco. "One thousand would say no. Of them, about four hundred went to Harvard, a hundred and fifty to Yale and Princeton each—that's 700 right there. Fifty to Berkeley, fifty to UCLA. For a number of years we looked at that Harvard takeaway number and wanted it to go down, but it never did."

    It is important to mention a reality check here, which is that American colleges as a whole are grossly unselective. Of the country's 3,000-plus colleges, all but about a hundred take most of the students who apply. Nonetheless, anxiety about admission to the remaining schools affects a significant part of upper-level American society. Without it the test-prep industry, private schools, and suburban housing patterns would all be very different.

    From a college's point of view, the most important fact about early decision is that it provides a way to improve a college's selectivity and yield simultaneously, and therefore to move the school up on national-ranking charts. It will take a few paragraphs' worth of figures to explain how colleges weigh early and regular applicants and who therefore does or does not get in at which point.

    Suppose a college needs to enroll 2,000 students in its incoming class. Suppose it receives roughly 12,000 applications each year in the regular admissions cycle—a realistic estimate for a prestigious, selective school. Suppose, finally, that its normal yield for students admitted in the regular cycle is 33 percent—that is, for each three it accepts, one will enroll. This, too, is a realistic figure for most top-tier schools. So to end up with 2,000 freshmen on registration day, a college relying purely on a regular admissions program would send "We are pleased to announce" letters to 6,000 applicants and hope that the usual 33 percent decided to enroll. A regular-only admissions policy would thus mean that the college's selectivity rate—6,000 acceptances for 12,000 applicants—was an unselective-sounding 50 percent.

    Now suppose that the college introduces an early-decision plan and admits 500 applicants, a quarter of the class, that way. Suddenly its statistics improve. It is very likely to receive at least as many total applications as before—say, 1,000 in the ED program and 11,000 regulars. But now it will have to send out only 5,000 acceptance letters—500 earlies plus 4,500 to bring in 1,500 regular students. Therefore its selectivity will improve to 42 percent from the previous 50, and its yield will be 40 percent rather than the original 33, because all those admitted early will be obliged to enroll.

    Finally, suppose that the college decides to admit fully half the class early, as some selective colleges already do. It will need to send out only 4,000 offers to get 2,000 students. Its selectivity will become an impressive 33 percent and its overall yield will be 50 percent. With no change in faculty, course offerings, endowment, or characteristics of the entering class, the college will have risen noticeably in national rankings.

    That is how Penn used an aggressive early-decision policy to drive up its rankings—and not just Penn. Swarthmore's yield for regular applicants, the so-called open-market yield rate, is 30 percent. Because of its binding ED program it can report an overall yield of 40 percent. Amherst has a 34 percent open-market yield, but it can report a 42 percent yield because of binding ED. For Columbia the percentages are 41 and 58, for Yale 55 and 66.

    The long-term financial viability of a college can be influenced simply by its reported yield. "I was flabbergasted when we were having our college bonds evaluated by Moody's and S&P," Bruce Poch, of Pomona, told me. "These bond raters were obsessing about our yield! They were chastising me because Pomona's yield was not as high as Williams's and Amherst's, because they took more of their class early. We explained that our regular-decision yield was quite high, and finally got a triple-A bond rating. Obviously there were other considerations, but this saved the college millions in interest." One admissions dean at a selective school proudly told me that his school's yield had risen from 50 to 60 percent in just three years. He didn't add what his college's own figures show: the yield for regular admissions had been steady in that time. The difference came from the school's having taken more students early.

    The average SAT score of the admitted class is another important element in ranking. The admissions office can affect this directly, by giving SAT scores extra weight in its decisions—and surprising new evidence suggests that many offices are doing so. The main professional organization in this field, the
    National Association for College Admission Counseling, reported last February that the one factor that had become more important in admissions decisions over the past decade was SAT scores. "College presidents see these U.S. News rankings," Mark Davis, a college counselor at Phillips Exeter Academy, told me recently, "and they tell the deans of admission, 'Keep those SAT scores up! Not because we think they're that relevant but because we don't want to slip in the rankings.'"

    The most intriguing twist on the SAT emphasis is applied at Georgetown, one of a handful of schools still offering nonbinding early action. Whereas Harvard knows that nearly all the students admitted EA will enroll, Georgetown knows that most of the academically strongest candidates it admits early will end up at Yale or Stanford if they get in. Georgetown sticks with EA in part because Charles Deacon, its dean of admissions, is a prominent critic of the increased use of binding programs and the sense of panic and scarcity they create among students. (My wife, Deborah, worked for him in Georgetown's admissions office for two years.) But Georgetown also benefits from the fact that its nonbinding program attracts applications from some talented students who start out considering the university a "safety school" but end up deciding to enroll. Because colleges often highlight the average SAT scores of the students they admit, not just the ones who enroll, a policy like Georgetown's can make a school look better.



    The Three Ages of Early Decision



    Today's ED programs are relics of an entirely different era in academic history—actually, two eras. The first rough precursors of today's early system appeared in the 1950s, when Harvard, Yale, and Princeton applied what was known as the ABC system. Their admissions officers would visit Exeter, Groton, Andover, and the other traditional feeder schools. They would chat with students, talk with counselors, and look at transcripts, and then issue advisory A, B, or C ratings to the students. A was a likely admission, B was possible, C was unlikely. "It was a system that gave students from certain backgrounds a lot of access," Karl Furstenberg says. "It reflected the privileged relationships that existed."

    By the late 1950s smaller New England colleges had come up with the first early-decision plans, as a way to make inroads with these same students. Amherst, Bowdoin, Dartmouth, Wesleyan, and Williams, allied at the time as "the Pentagonals," offered what has become the familiar bargain: better odds on admission in return for a binding commitment to attend. "What's interesting is that from the start competitive considerations among colleges seem to have been the driving force," Karl Furstenberg, of Dartmouth, says. Soon after, other colleges began to adopt early decision.

    The next distinct phase came during the baby bust of the 1980s, when binding commitments were a way to fill dormitory beds. With fewer students applying each year, even proud, strong schools found themselves digging deep into their waiting lists to fill their freshman classes. Smaller, weaker colleges could barely make their numbers and pay their bills—no matter how deep they dug. "It's not shameful to go to the waiting list, but you don't want to make yourself look needy," says Jonathan Reider, formerly of Stanford. "For an institution like Stanford, taking sixty would be a lot."

    During the baby bust news swept through the small-college ranks that Swarthmore had not been able to fill its class without nearly using up its waiting list. "I think that got people really worried," says Edward Hu, who was then an admissions officer at Occidental College and is now a counselor at the Harvard-Westlake school. "If Swarthmore was having these problems ..." In the early 1990s the main computer in Brown's admissions office broke down: the office had been using a three-digit code for places on the waiting list, and anxious admissions officers were packing so many names onto the list that they had exceeded the 999-name limit in the database system.

    In the mid-1990s Baby Boomers' children began applying to college, and the long years of prosperity expanded the pool of people willing and able to pay tuition for prep schools and private colleges. More bodies and more money were coming into the college system at just the moment when American colleges were going through their version of economic globalization. Fred Hargadon, formerly the dean of admissions at Stanford and now in the same position at Princeton, says, "A generation ago most students stayed within two hundred miles of their home town when looking at colleges." Now, in education as in other fields, customers from around the country and the world were bidding for the same limited resources.

    The economists Robert Frank, of Cornell, and Philip Cook, of Duke, have called this the "winner take all" phenomenon, in that it multiplies the rewards for those at the top of the pyramid and puts new pressure on those at the bottom. Frank has used the example of the market for opera. A century ago dozens of cities had their own opera houses, providing work for hundreds of singers. Now everyone buys CD recordings of the same few world-famous sopranos. Similar effects are visible in the college market. A worldwide sense that U.S. higher education was pre-eminent, and a growing perception within America that a clear hierarchy of "best" colleges existed, made top schools relatively more attractive than they had been before. Harvard, Yale, and Princeton became more sought after relative to other very selective schools. Harvard became clearly the first among equals, on the basis of the selectivity and yield statistics that are stressed in rankings. Harvard's open-market yield is now above 60 percent, which when combined with the near 90 percent yield from its nonbinding early-action program gives Harvard an overall yield of 79 percent. Few colleges have an open-market yield of even 50 percent.

    Meanwhile, schools less well known or well positioned were applying a version of Penn's strategy, deliberately using the early option to improve their numbers and allure. "In general it's the smaller liberal-arts colleges that need to encourage applications, so that they'll remain 'selective,'" says John Katzman, the head of The Princeton Review. Katzman says that it's unfair to name any schools that pursue this strategy, because "it's like naming people who jaywalk in New York." But the counselors I spoke with volunteered some examples of smaller, mainly private schools that had placed increasing emphasis on early plans to lock up their freshman class. These included Brandeis, Connecticut College, Emory, Tufts, Washington University in St. Louis, and Wesleyan. The Claremont Colleges, in southern California, were often cited as an exception to the trend.

    Tulane is one of several schools that have been inventive with early plans. It now offers both early-action and early-decision plans. Last year it sent a mailing to all students in Louisiana and to high-scoring students from across the country. The mailing included admissions forms already filled out with basic data about each student, which Tulane had bought from the Educational Testing Service and the College Board. Admissions fees were waived for students who used the form. Because of the new forms and other factors that made Tulane more attractive, applications went up by 30 percent. It therefore became more "selective."



    The High Road



    There is a case to be made for the rise of early-decision programs, and Fred Hargadon enjoys making it. Hargadon resisted early programs of any sort during the fifteen years he was the admissions director at Stanford; six years ago he oversaw Princeton's switch to a binding ED plan. He takes great and eloquent offense at the idea that admissions policies should be described as a matter of power politics among colleges rather than as efforts to find the best match of student and school. When I met with him at Princeton recently, I mentioned that high school counselors often describe the increase in early programs as an "arms race" in which no one can afford to back down. That night I got a lengthy e-mail from him saying that the analogy reminded him of "how narrow and shallow are the frames of reference often used by people in order to give an immediate response or reaction to one or another happening in higher education."

    Hargadon's argument for a binding ED policy is in part positive: ED gives an admissions office the best chance to assemble some of the diverse talents, range of backgrounds, and personalities necessary to make up a well-rounded class. "If we need a quarterback for the football team and we've admitted two of them early, we don't need to take a third in the spring," he says. "If you're doing it in the spring, you have no idea who's actually going to show up." And his case is in part negative, or at least defensive. When it had a nonbinding early plan, Princeton could end up wasting its decision-making time and, worse, its scarce admission slots on students who were hoping to get into Yale or Harvard. "To put it as bluntly as I can," Hargadon said in a long note he had prepared before our talk,

    Early Decision seems to me to be the most "rational" part of the admissions process these days. To be able to admit precisely the kinds of students we seek from among those who have decided that Princeton is where they want to be is far more "rational" than the weeks we spend in late March making hairline decisions among terrific kids without the slightest knowledge of who among them really wants the particular opportunities provided by Princeton and who among them could care less or, worse, who among them is simply collecting trophies.

    Richard Shaw, the admissions dean at Yale, defends his institution's ED policy in similar terms. Under the old system, he told me, trophy-hunting students would "collect a lot of admissions from places that were not their first choice, and would take up the space that might have gone to other students." It was fairer, he said, to reserve the institutions' scarce decision-making time for students who really wanted to attend Yale.

    High school counselors, most of whom take a dim overall view of early decision (but also master its nuances in order to get the right edge for their students), admit that for some students in some circumstances it can work just right. Yet not one of the more than thirty public and private school counselors I spoke with argued that because the early system is good for particular students, or because they had learned how to work it, it is beneficial overall. On the contrary, they had three basic complaints: that it distorts the experience of being in high school; that it worsens the professional-class neurosis about college admission; and that in terms of social class it is nakedly unfair.

    Early decision distorts high school mainly by foreshortening the experience. With early applications due in the fall of senior year, students know that the end of junior year is the last part of their high school record that "counts." The other dates on the college-prep calendar must also be moved up. In the past five years the Kaplan company has seen a 60 percent rise in demand for its courses in the PSAT, the warm-up for the SAT. "These kids need to get started so they can get their SATs finished by the end of their junior year," Seppy Basili, of Kaplan, says.

    "With this speeded-up process there's pressure on kids to be perfect from ninth grade on," says Josh Wolman, the director of college counseling at Sidwell Friends School, in Washington, D.C. "We've got colleges saying 'Well, we don't know, he had a C in biology in ninth grade.' I wish colleges had a better understanding of what it's like to work with ninth-graders. If they think all ninth-graders can get As—that all ninth-grade boys can get As!—they're crazy."

    "A hallmark of adolescence is its changeability," says Cigus Vanni, formerly an assistant dean at Swarthmore. "To say that kids should be ready a year ahead of time to make these decisions goes against everything we've learned in the past hundred years." Tom Parker, the admissions director at Amherst, oversees an ED plan but nonetheless says that too many colleges are taking too many students early: "My own fundamental belief is that eight to twelve months in a seventeen-year-old's life is a very long time. For us it's a blink of an eye. Kids may begin the year with the idea of going to a large urban university and end up very happy to come to Amherst. They do so as a result of insight, growth, challenge, and family dynamics, and we really need to allow those things to play out. An awful lot of kids are making the decision too early because they feel that they can't get in if they don't."

    I spoke with students at a variety of high schools about how the college-admissions process had affected them. By the end of the process most of them were battle-hardened and blasé, and not really interested in talking about what they had been through. The answer I remember best came from a sophomore at Harvard-Westlake, Tom Newman, a curly-haired, open-faced boy. How early did students start worrying about college?

    "Oh, yeah, for us as sophomores, it's here," he said. "Especially at a school like this, to a very large extent we start feeling the pressure of getting ready for college from ninth grade on. It's on our minds that tenth grade and eleventh grade count. So there's always the big stress level. They start talking to us about colleges before sophomore year starts—I think we had an orientation in late summer after our freshman year. They sat us down and said, 'This is it. The life you're going to be living for the next few years.'"

    I asked if he thought he would apply early decision when his time came. "Most people are for that, to be perfectly honest. They say you have a better chance. Most of the seniors I know have done early admission, and most of the sophomores are thinking about it."

    Then I asked Newman if he thought the early focus on college had helped or hurt his high school experience. He laughed. "Are you serious? Maybe for a very small percentage it might help them do better. But for the great majority, no. It makes things more stressful, more painful. You go around the school and see the kids look tired. Very few students get enough sleep. They get either too much or not enough exercise. We don't go for moderation—you can't, because the hype is so high." He was saying this not in a whiny, tortured-youth fashion but as an observer of his culture.

    Candace Andrews, a college counselor at the Polytechnic School, in Pasadena, California, says that she tries not to speak to freshmen or sophomores about college at all, but the parents are always at her. "I tell the parents, 'You want your kid to go to Stanford? Then let your kid have a real Poly life. Engage here.'" In theory that's how high school, not to mention life in general, is supposed to work. But Andrews says that the pressure to get kids on the college chute has become too great. (She is leaving the counseling business to enter a more relaxed field—nuclear-weapons control.)

    At the schools I visited—strong suburban public schools and renowned private schools—half of all seniors, on average, applied under some early plan. Of those, typically half applied under binding early-decision plans, and half under nonbinding early action. All the counselors I spoke with said that if it were up to the parents alone, the overall total would be much higher. This was true even at Scarsdale High, in New York, where 70 percent of the seniors applied under some early program. "They're scared," Cigus Vanni says, referring mainly to parents. "The sense is that New York, say, has a lot of high-scoring, high-achieving kids, and if they wait for the regular pool, the students will eliminate one another." At Harvard-Westlake, Edward Hu and his colleagues keep the early proportion to 50 percent by insisting that students and parents work through a checklist. Sample question: "Have you visited the college that you like more than any other college? Yes or No. If Yes, continue. If No, stop. You are not applying early."

    This question alone suggests the most glaring defect of the early programs: how much they are biased toward privileged students. It makes perfect sense that students should see a college before making a binding commitment to attend. A school like Harvard-Westlake, on the West Coast, can assume that its students will have made the East Coast college tour before their senior year. Counselors at the Los Angeles public schools cannot—that is, if they even have a moment to think about which of their students should apply early. At the typical private school or prosperous suburban public high school one counselor may serve forty to sixty students. At Redlands High, the public high school I attended in southern California, each counselor is responsible for several hundred students. Rich and poor students alike may be free to benefit from today's ED racket—but only the rich are likely to have heard of it.

    "You can always argue for taking one more kid in the early stage," Jonathan Reider says, referring to his time as an admissions officer at Stanford. "There's always room to go from four hundred and fifty to four fifty-one. So you'd end up with four eighty. One year we went over five hundred. But you get to March, and you generally know what the yield on the regular kids will be, and you simply can't take another kid." Students who haven't heard of early decision are shouldered out.

    Others who are left out are those whose parents wonder how they're going to pay for college, which is to say average Americans. A student who applies under the regular system can compare loans, grants, and work-study offers from a variety of schools. A student who is accepted early decision has to take whatever aid the college offers. Colleges swear that in making need-based aid calculations they don't discriminate against early applicants. That may well be true at the richest two or three schools. But even when that is the case, a student with only one offer on the table cannot know what might have been available elsewhere.

    Charles Deacon, of Georgetown, says, "A cynical view is that early decision is a programmatic way of rationing your financial aid. First, the ED pool is more affluent, so you spend less money"—that is, give less need-based aid—"enrolling your class. And then there is absolutely no need to compete on financial packages. I am dealing with a very attractive candidate right now, admitted in our nonbinding program, who is comparing our aid package with"—and here he named a famous East Coast school that has a binding early-decision plan. That school, he said, had just come up with an offer that was all grant, no loan. "If she had applied there early decision, they wouldn't have had to do that."

    "The whole early-decision thing is so preposterous, transparent, and demeaning to the profession that it is bound to go bust," says Tom Parker, of Amherst. "I can't think of one secondary school counselor who sees the benefit of the program."




    The Rules of the Game—How to Work Them and How to Reform Them



    For students now entering their senior year in high school, and for their parents, changing the ED system is a moot point. The system exists, and it rewards those who are willing to play the game. The main strategy is this: a student who is in the right position to make an early commitment has every reason to do so.

    For a student, being in that position means being absolutely certain by the start of the senior year that Wesleyan or Bates or Columbia is the place one wants to attend, and that there will be no "buyer's remorse" later in the year when classmates get four or five offers to choose from. It means having strong grades and SAT scores by the end of junior year and not thinking that one's record needs to be rounded off or enriched by senior-year performance. It means that one's family has enough money to be unaffected by the possibility of competitive financial offers. It means that one has decided not to apply for the extraordinary full-tuition "merit" scholarships—including the Trustee Scholar program at the University of Southern California and the Morehead scholarships at the University of North Carolina—that are increasingly being used to attract talented students to less selective schools. It means that one is emotionally prepared to deal with a rejection if necessary and then to rush regular applications into the mail right away.

    Anyone so positioned should go right ahead. Those who aren't should take their time. There are, of course, nuances. Students hoping for but not confident of Princeton or Stanford in the regular cycle, for instance, should apply early to Georgetown—what is there to lose? Those thinking seriously of Harvard might as well apply early: there is no evidence that it's easier to get in then, but with most of the class being admitted early, it's a way to resolve uncertainties ahead of time. Anyone hoping to use legacy preference or athletic talent for an extra edge should apply early.

    Those are some of the ways to work the system. What about changing it? One approach would be simple reform—accepting the inevitability of ED programs but trying to modify them so as to reduce the attendant pressure and paranoia. For instance, colleges could agree to abandon the practice sometimes called sophomore search, whereby the Educational Testing Service sells mailing lists of high school sophomores to colleges so that the schools can begin their marketing mailings in the junior year. High school counselors could agitate for a commitment from colleges that financial-aid offers would be consistent for early and regular applicants; the National Association for College Admission Counseling (NACAC) could carefully monitor trends to see that colleges honored the pledge. High schools and colleges alike could agree to report either more or less data than they currently do.

    If more, then colleges would carefully distinguish between early and regular applicants when reporting their selectivity and yield rates. This would reduce the pressure to take more early applicants in order to improve statistics. U.S. News should ask for, and separately report, early and regular totals for selectivity and yield. If a school refuses to provide a breakdown, the magazine should omit selectivity and yield from the school's listing.

    If less, then colleges could reduce the detailed information they release about admissions trends. Fred Hargadon, of Princeton, says he dreams of returning to the days when not even students were informed of their SAT scores and when colleges didn't advertise the median test scores of their entering classes. Barbara Leifer-Sarullo and Marjorie Jacobs, of Scarsdale High, have for years declined to give local papers lists of the colleges Scarsdale graduates will be attending. "If we did that," Leifer-Sarullo says, "the school next door would be under that much more pressure about its graduates—and school results are what keep up real-estate prices." Scarsdale's strong reputation means that it can afford not to be on lists of schools with the most Ivy League admissions.

    To begin thinking about proposals for reform is to realize both how difficult the changes would be to implement and how indirect their effects might be. One such proposal could be called the "anti-trophy-hunting rule." At Scarsdale High students who have been accepted to very selective colleges under early action may submit at most one other application during the regular cycle. This avoids swamping the system in general and crowding out other applicants from the same secondary school. (In practice it largely keeps people with an early acceptance at Harvard from clogging the system at Princeton, Yale, and Stanford.) Edward Hu, of Harvard-Westlake, proposes another idea. He says that no student should apply to college until after high school graduation, with the expectation that most would spend the next year working, traveling, or volunteering. Great idea—good luck!

    Two other proposals sound sensible but also indicate the limits of reform. One is that colleges voluntarily do what Stanford does now and hold early admissions to no more than 25 percent of the incoming class. "I really would find it problematic to give out more than a quarter of our admissions decisions early," Robin Mamlet, the admissions dean at Stanford, says, voicing a view different from Hargadon's. "Certainly I feel that when you pass a third, you limit your ability to maneuver as an institution, and it's not healthy on a national level." Some counselors told me they support such a ceiling because they support anything that will reduce the volume of early acceptances. Others think a widely accepted ceiling could actually make things worse, by enforcing the idea that early admission is a sign of super-elite status.

    The other proposal is that Harvard be pressured to adopt a binding ED program. The logic here is that Harvard's current nonbinding program is de facto binding, and the fiction that it's not encourages trophy-hunting students to waste the time of admissions officers at half a dozen other schools. But Harvard has no intention of making this change.

    The problem with reform, then, is that most measures would have a very limited effect, and those whose effect might be greater—for instance, a year's delay—are unlikely to be taken. This leads many counselors to dream about a different approach: a basic assault on the current college-admissions mania.



    Immediate Suspension


    Today's professional-class madness about college involves the linked ideas that colleges are desirable to the extent that they are hard to get into; that high schools are valuable to the extent that they get students into those desirable colleges; and that being accepted or rejected from a "good" college is the most consequential fact about one's education.

    Viewed from afar—or from close up, by people working in high schools—every part of this outlook is twisted. The U.S. higher-education network is remarkable precisely for how many people it accommodates, how many different avenues it opens, how many second chances it offers, and how thoroughly it is not the last word on success or failure.

    Obviously there are name and network payoffs from attending the "best" colleges and graduate schools. Four of the nine justices on the current Supreme Court have undergraduate degrees from Stanford. The Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania has a powerful network in finance, the Harvard Crimson in journalism, the USC film school in Hollywood, Stanford's computer-science department in Silicon Valley, The Dartmouth Review among conservative writers, and so on.

    But the positive effects of these networks are certainly far less than the negative effects of not attending the University of Tokyo in Japan or one of the grandes écoles in France. The longer a field is exposed to a continuing market test—of economic profit, of political approval, of performance or innovation—the less academic credentials of any sort seem to matter. The four richest people in America, all of whom made rather than inherited their wealth, are a dropout from Harvard, a dropout from the University of Illinois, a dropout from Washington State University, and a graduate of the University of Nebraska. American Presidents of the past half century have included two from Yale; two from the service academies; one each from Harvard, Southwest Texas State, Whittier, Michigan, Eureka, and Georgetown; and one (Harry Truman) with no college degree. Members of Congress are, on average, unusually wealthy but not from elite-college backgrounds. Rosters of Nobel laureates or top leaders in any industrial field demonstrate that admission to a selective school is not necessary for success. Twenty-fifth-anniversary alumni reports from Harvard, Yale, or Princeton make clear that a degree from one of the Big Three is not sufficient for success or wealth or happiness. A counselor at Scarsdale High asks students to research and write about three to five people they consider genuinely successful—and then stresses to the students how little connection each success has to college background.

    Other things being equal, a degree from a better-known college is a plus—as are good looks, white skin, athletic skill, being raised in an intact family, and other factors that skew the starting line in life. But more than these other variables, the importance of one's college background diminishes rapidly through adulthood: it matters most for one's first job and steadily less thereafter. The old grad who parades his college background does so because that's when he peaked in life. Yes, American parents wanting to give their child a fighting chance should make sure that he or she has some sort of college degree. The wonder is that getting through the admissions gate at a name-brand college should have come to seem the fundamental point of upper-middle-class child-rearing.

    The drive to get children into one of the most selective schools may in fact be economically irrational if parents think that the money they spend on private school tuition will pay off in higher future earnings for those children. For years scholars have attempted to measure the economic impact of attending a selective college versus a less selective one. Isolating that impact has been difficult, because students who go to selective schools tend to have many other things working in their favor. But in a widely quoted 1999
    working paper for the National Bureau of Economic Research, Stacy Berg Dale and Alan B. Krueger found that the economic benefit of attending a more selective school was negligible. (To be specific, they compared a group of students who had enrolled in the most-selective schools that admitted them with another group that had been admitted to similar schools but decided to enroll in less-selective ones. The selectivity of a school made no significant difference in the students' later earnings.) The same study found some payoff to attending expensive schools. But nearly all private colleges, selective or not, cost much more than nearly all public institutions—and there is only a vague connection between out-of-pocket expense for tuition and housing and perceived selectivity.

    So although the pressure for places in the Ivy League and the exclusive liberal-arts colleges does not grow purely from economic rationality, it obviously has economic consequences. Preparing students for SATs and related tests is the basis of The Princeton Review's and Kaplan's success. Private schools remain crowded because so many parents view them more as valuable conduits to selective colleges than as valuable educational experiences.

    Colleges, says Mark Davis, of Exeter, have achieved a miracle of marketing: "The miracle of scarcity. By making themselves harder to get into, they have made themselves 'better' in the public eye." Davis readily admits that elite prep schools like his benefit from this outlook. Many other things, too, are valued largely because they are scarce, but admission to an elite college is different from, say, beachfront property or original artwork, because it can't be bought directly. Thus the intensity with which parents approach the indirect factors that make admission more likely: prep schools, private tutoring for admissions tests, extensive travel, "interesting" summer experiences.


    There is one other hope for dealing with the early-decision problem—a step significant enough to make a real difference, but sufficiently contained to happen in less than geologic time: adopting what might be called the Joe Allen Memorial Policy, suspending early programs of all sorts for the indefinite future.

    Joseph P. Allen, a boyish-looking man then in his mid-forties, became the director of admissions at the University of Southern California in 1993, moving from the same job at UC Santa Cruz. USC, like Penn, was a private institution with an unenviable reputation, because of its location in a dicey part of Los Angeles and because it was seen as a safety school for rich but unmotivated students. Like Penn, USC waged an aggressive campaign to improve its image. Allen was the most visible public ambassador of the drive, traveling the country to recruit talented students, urging the creation of new honors programs, and raising money for scholarships that brought a wider racial diversity to what had been a mainly white student body. By the late 1990s USC had nine times as many applicants as places; the average SAT score of incoming freshman classes had risen by 300 points; and the university had moved up in the U.S. News rankings.

    Allen, who had spent a year in federal prison in the early 1970s for refusing the draft for Vietnam, considered early programs economically unfair, and resisted using them as part of USC's recruiting drive. But as he watched their influence spread, he began to fear that no institution could avoid them in the long run. At a meeting of the
    College Board in February, 1998, he stood up and offered a "modest proposal." For years, he said, he had heard colleagues worry about the effects of early-decision programs. Many people thought that students had to make up their minds far too early. All of them realized that binding ED programs allowed schools to feign a level of selectivity they don't really have. But individual schools felt powerless to do anything about it. "We'd give it up—if everyone else did," Allen had often heard. Therefore, he suggested, why didn't everyone give up early programs altogether? Why not just declare a moratorium? He proposed a three-year ban on all ED and EA programs, during which time colleges and high schools would carefully observe the effects.

    At that meeting some people supported the plan and others said it was impractical. Over the next few years Allen brought up the idea whenever his colleagues began complaining about the effects of ED programs. Then, in March of this year, Allen suffered a stroke while greeting a group of prospective USC students. He was fifty-three years old and apparently vigorous, but he died two weeks later.

    Candace Andrews, of the Polytechnic School, who had known and liked Allen, told me, "In Joe Allen's memory we should give his proposal a try. No one wants to be the first one to take the step, so everyone needs to step back together." She tossed off this idea casually in conversation, but it actually seems more promising than any of the other reform plans. Not every college would agree to it, of course. Fortunately, though, the same hierarchy that skews the system could make a difference here. If the right few colleges agreed, that could be enough. When I asked high school counselors how many colleges it would take to change early programs by agreeing to a moratorium, their answers varied. A few thought that Harvard by itself was enough. "It's all about Harvard, it really is," Mark Davis, of Exeter, told me. "If they didn't have an early program, then others would feel comfortable following suit." Harvard's officials claim that no one college can afford to go it alone. "You've got to understand, the Ivy League is so hypercompetitive that I've heard our faculty members compare it to a loose federation of pirates," William Fitzsimmons says. "If we gave it up, other institutions inside and outside the Ivy League would carve up our class, and our faculty would carve us up." Tom Parker, of Amherst, says, "The places that would have to change are Harvard, Princeton, Columbia, Penn. Those are the four. If they were to drastically reduce the percentage they take early, this would all change in a heartbeat." Joanna Schultz, the director of college counseling at The Ellis School, a private school for girls in Pittsburgh, says, "It might take the Ivy League. If those eight colleges made a decision, others at that level would have to follow." Other counselors and admissions officers had various ideas about the schools necessary to make the difference: Stanford, the University of Chicago, Swarthmore, Amherst, Johns Hopkins, Georgetown, Rice.

    But whatever the difference in details, everyone I spoke with seemed sure that some small group of elite colleges could change the system. And almost all the high school counselors thought that high school students as a whole would be much better off, even if some of their own students would no longer have the inside track.

    So here is my proposal: Take the ten most selective national universities and have them agree to conduct only regular admissions programs for the next five years. No early decision, no early action. Based on percentages of applicants who are admitted (early and regular combined), those ten are Harvard, Princeton, Columbia, Stanford, Yale, Brown, Cal Tech, MIT, Dartmouth, and Georgetown. Collectively their image is secure enough that in the years it might take others to go along, they needn't worry about seeing their classes carved up from below. The desire to emulate them is great enough that other schools could eventually be either shamed or flattered into adopting their policy. These ten are all private schools, so no cumbersome delay would arise from the need for state approval. (The next ten most selective, which include some public universities, are the University of Pennsylvania, Rice, the University of California at Berkeley, Duke, the University of California at Los Angeles, New York University, Northwestern, Tufts, Cornell, and Johns Hopkins.)

    Five years would be long enough to move today's eighth-graders all the way through high school under the expectation of a regular admissions cycle, and then to see how their experience differed. If most of today's high school counselors are right, early plans would soon be clearly seen for what they have become: a crutch for college administrations, and an unfortunate strategy for lower-ranked schools to make themselves look better. If after five years schools for some reason missed the early system, they could return to it with a clearer sense of why they were doing so.

    "In an ideal world we would do away with all early programs," Fitzsimmons said when I asked him about the right long-term direction for admissions systems. "We'd go back to the days when everyone could look at all their options over the senior year. Students, parents, and high schools would be very grateful. Philosophically and in every other way it would be so much better if we all could make the change."

    Because of Harvard's position in today's college pyramid, Fitzsimmons is the most influential person in American college admissions. His "ideal world" is significant news. What holds him back is the need to know that other schools will lower their guns if he lowers his. Are college students wondering what to protest next? The out-of-control ED system is my nominee. Today's students, who survived this distorted game, could do their younger brothers and sisters an enormous favor by pressuring those ten schools to do what they already know is right.



     


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September 23, 2004


  • The War on Drugs:


    Race, Poverty, and Politics


    Abstract: The U.S. government’s War on Drugs causes far more harm than the drugs it claims to be combating. The price of this war is race divisions, poverty, and an overburdened law enforcement and justice system that puts hundreds of thousands of people in prisons who don’t belong there. But there is a more cost-effective, compassionate, and logical alternative: education instead of propaganda and lies, treatment instead of more prisons and civil rights violations, and an end to the merciless treatment of the people of Latin America and other drug-producing regions.


    One of the most volatile issues in the current American political climate is illegal drug use. Drug abuse is intimately related to problems like crime, economic inequality, and race relations, and is therefore a topic of great controversy for a great many Americans. The current national campaign to stamp out illegal drug use has been called a “war on drugs,” because it emphasizes the need to crack down on drug dealers, arrest users, and generally pursue an enormously expensive “tough-on-crime” law enforcement agenda, both internationally and within our borders. But illegal drug use has proven to be a more tenacious problem than expected, and the war on drugs has, although unintentionally, encouraged the perpetuation of economic inequality, especially along racial lines. The billions of dollars spent yearly on the war on drugs should be reallocated to more productive, less punitive anti-drug campaigns, such as education, drug prevention programs, and counseling. Such policies would not have short-term results, but would, in the long run, be more beneficial to the communities, families, and individuals currently wrestling with drugs, getting them out of poverty, rather than into prisons.


    The “war on drugs” is essentially the name given to the United States’ federal drug policy over the past three decades, which has taken an increasingly militant attitude toward the drug crisis. This “war” causes and perpetuates economic inequality by ruining the lives of the people it affects, and by disproportionately targeting racial minorities that are already poverty-stricken. Since 1968, the United States has spent greater and greater amounts of money trying to stop drug use through the criminal justice system: at this point, the total comes to over 40 billion dollars per year.1 Three-fourths of the Federal anti-drug money goes to police, prisons, border patrols, and foreign interdiction efforts,2 i.e., direct-response measures to try to stem illegal drug use through law enforcement agencies. The remaining one-fourth of the budget goes to prevention and treatment measures.3


    This emphasis on law enforcement, as opposed to treatment and prevention, has resulted in an enormous number of arrests. Half a million members of America’s prison population (out of about two million total) are incarcerated for drug-related offenses, and 700,000 people are arrested each year for marijuana possession alone.4 The problem with this policy is that imprisonment is often not the best way to deal with the drug problem in the long run. Senator Orrin Hatch of Utah commented that drug abusers “can get drugs in jail, but there’s no real education in jails, and no treatment.”5 Furthermore, little in the way of effective treatment or prevention programs are available outside of prisons either. Methadone, the most effective drug for the treatment of heroin addiction, is not available through doctors or pharmacies, and there are just 170,000 methadone-maintenance shots available in the U.S.6 While the government does sponsor anti-drug campaigns, such campaigns address drugs on a general level, but do not educate the population about specific issues like overdose prevention, an important part of drug safety that has received no funding from the federal government.7 A lack of proper treatment programs has also taken a toll on society—especially among the lower rungs of the social ladder—by increasing the spread of diseases like AIDS. Over 260,000 cases of AIDS have been traced to infected needles, and of the 40,000 new HIV infections each year, 10,000 are caused, directly or indirectly, by the use of unsafe needles for injecting drugs.8 Yet the federal government provides no funding for needle exchange programs, which are designed to prevent the spread of diseases through infected needles.9


    In addition to imprisoning a large number of people for long periods of time, the war on drugs has disproportionately affected minority populations. African-Americans comprise 12.2% of the population and 13% of drug users, but 38% of those arrested for drug offenses, and 59% of those convicted, are African-American.10 Furthermore, three-fourths of those in prison on drug convictions are members of minorities.11 The higher arrest rates for African-Americans are the result of a law enforcement emphasis on inner city areas, which are more likely to have open-air drug markets and a severe lack of treatment resources.12 It is also the result of differences in sentencing between crack cocaine and powder cocaine. While both drugs have the same active ingredient, crack is sold in less expensive quantities and marketed in lower income communities, usually of color.13 A five-year federal minimum sentence is triggered by selling only five grams of crack, whereas one must sell five hundred grams of powder cocaine to receive the same minimum sentence.14 The result is more small-time, poor, minority dealers in prison for longer periods of time. In 1986, before the enactment of federal minimum sentences for crack cocaine offenses, the average federal drug sentence for an African-American was 11% higher than for a white person, but four years later, that statistic jumped to 49%.15 Young people of color, as well as minority families, are particularly mistreated under the current policy. A National Institute on Drug Abuse survey of high school seniors in the United States for 1998-1999 shows that white students use cocaine and heroin at around seven times the rate of black students, and that white youths of ages 12-17 are about one third more likely to sell drugs than their African-American counterparts.16 In spite of this, there are about 17 black youths arrested on drug charges for every white youth arrested.17 Poor women of color, and the children they are trying to raise, are also harmed by the war on drugs. About one-third of all women in prison are incarcerated for drug crimes, and the rate of imprisonment for black women is eight times that of white women.18 Black women are ten times more likely than white women to be reported to child-welfare agencies for parental drug use,19 causing them to lose vital support in raising their families under low income conditions. Finally, out of 1.5 million minor children who had a parent incarcerated in 1999, African-American children were nearly 9 times more likely than white children to have a parent incarcerated, and Latinos were 3 times more likely.20


    Clearly the war on drugs is taking a toll on low-income, minority families, adding to the obstacles between them and economic success. But the war on drugs has also failed to reduce illegal drug use in the United States. Three decades after the war on drugs began, there are “no fewer drug addicts, but more people in prison for drug crimes than ever before.”21 According to the 1999 National Household Survey on Drug Abuse, 87.7 million Americans had tried an illegal drug in 1999, as opposed to 4 million in 1962.22 Teen marijuana use is up almost 300 percent just since 1992, according to the 1998 National Center on Addiction and Substance Abuse survey.23 Despite attempts by law enforcement agencies to raise street prices by cracking down on dealers, “the fact remains that most illegal drugs remain popular and available.”24 Despite $30 billion spent trying to cut the supply of drugs from abroad, the amount of cocaine and heroin coming into the U.S. from foreign countries is as great as ever.25 Retail cocaine and heroin prices have actually fallen by about a third since 1992.26 Purity is also up; the average THC content of marijuana in the 1970s was 1.5%, but now averages about 7.6%, and heroin purity, which used to range between 1-10%, now averages about 35%.27 In short, the war on drugs has come at a great price, both for taxpayers and minority communities, without getting the kind of results that might justify the war.


    The drug crisis in the United States must be addressed, but there is a more cost-effective, socially progressive alternative to the war on drugs that would help alleviate poverty, rather than encourage it. Such a federal program would include spending more money and time on treatment, both general education and drug education, counseling and after-school programs for poor youths, as well as legislation to legalize some drugs and decriminalize all of them—that is, reduce the crackdown on nonviolent users and small-time dealers. The emphasis of this program would be helping people deal with harmful addictions without imprisoning them. Money currently being spent putting people in prison (and keeping them there) would be siphoned off to pay for free drug treatment clinics, and needle exchange programs would be legalized and funded by the government in order to release the grip of AIDS on poor minority communities.


    Money spent on general education would give poor youths a way of gaining economic and social success other than entering the illegal drug trade, and changing the emphasis of current federal anti-drug advertisement and education programs from “just to say no” to “safety and responsibility” would improve the effectiveness of such programs by reducing the harmful effects of drug use, rather than futilely trying to convince people not to use drugs at all. Funding after-school activities and counseling programs for poor young people would help keep them off the streets and away from harmful influences that could lead them to a life of addiction. Even simple activities like basketball leagues and music lessons would give poor youths something healthy to enjoy in their spare time, and counseling programs could help them deal with the emotional problems so often faced by low-income families through a means other than drugs. Finally, legalizing some drugs, such as marijuana and possibly cocaine, would reduce violence in poorer communities by legitimizing the industry, and would stop the enormous flow of minor drug offenders into prisons.


    This policy change is not only more compassionate to the poor, but is also very practical and realistic from a logistical and financial point of view. Many studies, experts, and historical precedents give evidence for the many strengths of this proposed drug policy. First of all, treatment has been shown to be both effective and inexpensive. As new prisons have been built, treatment programs within them have declined, but the “best hope for controlling illicit drugs” is treatment, rather than punishment.28 Numerous studies have shown that treatment of drug abusers is the “best and cheapest way” to reduce the national “craving” for addictive, illegal drugs.29 Indeed, the Physician Leadership on National Drug Policy estimates that the cost per year for regular outpatient treatment for heroin addicts is $1,800, compared to a staggering $26,000 per year for incarceration.30


    Emphasizing education and after school programs would also be a very effective, realistic way of preventing young people from becoming drug addicts. In “Crack Country,” an article in the New York Times Magazine, author Walter Kirn explains that, in his experience as a young person growing up in a poor, rural environment, “boredom and freedom” are the chief causes for young, poor kids being led into drug abuse.31 Counseling for young students in drug-ridden neighborhoods has also proven effective in improving their school performance and conduct. In East Baltimore, a pilot program of counseling in the juvenile justice system and local schools, which was provided with a grant from an agency of the Federal Department of Health and Human Services, found that almost half the children in these low-income schools needed counseling, and there was drug use in about 70% of the students’ families.32 A sample of report cards from elementary school students who had received counseling under the program showed that 50% of the students, who had gotten unsatisfactory marks at the beginning of the year, had, by the 3rd quarter, achieved satisfactory marks in reading, math, and conduct.33 If studies like this are any indication, counseling is an excellent way of improving the chances of future success for children from drug-using families.


    Legalization is probably the most controversial aspect of the alternative policy proposed here. Legalization would certainly increase drug use, but that could be partially offset by increasing prices through large taxes on producers.34 Furthermore, revenue collected from the taxes on legal drugs could be used to finance other aspects of this plan, such as treatment and education.35 If history provides an accurate precedent, legalization and decriminalization would also reduce the strain on communities and law enforcement agencies by reducing the violent crime associated with the drug trade. The decades with the highest homicide rates in the United States coincide with alcohol prohibition and the war on drugs: in 1933 (the last year of alcohol prohibition), the homicide rate peaked at 9.7 per 100,000 people, then dropped dramatically; in 1980, the murder rate reached 10 per 100,000.36 Reducing violent crime in low-income communities through legalization would help improve poor people’s chances of “getting out of the ghetto.”


    There are certainly some obstacles to overcome if this policy is to be implemented. Most Americans actually wish to end the war on drugs; a 2001 study showed that a record 74% of Americans think the war is failing.37 But it is hard to change the war on drugs because legislators, even those who see the futility of the current policy, don’t want to seem “soft on crime,”38 which at this point, is tantamount to political suicide. It is also difficult to move away from a law enforcement emphasis on inner cities and minority communities. John Timoney, the Police Commissioner of Philadelphia, explained that “The ones who are particularly affected by drugs are the minority communities. We get a lot of pressure to clean up neighborhoods where there are four or five dealers on the block.”39 Furthermore, there are some arguments that support keeping very tight control on illegal drug use. Although legalization would almost certainly reduce the violence caused in gang wars, ONDCP’s 1998 National Drug Control Strategy indicated that domestic violence is often linked to drug abuse: according to this survey, one-fourth to one-half of all incidents of domestic violence are drug-related.40 Furthermore, drug users are less effective as employees. Drug users make more than twice as many workers’ compensation claims, use almost twice the medical benefits, and generally take one-third more leave than non-users.41 Because the alternative program proposed here would almost certainly increase the overall number of drug users, these problems would be likely to increase.


    Despite these drawbacks, the costs that the current war on drugs exacts on society are utterly devastating, and it especially aggravates existing problems of economic inequality, particularly along racial lines. The United States imprisons a larger percentages of its population for drug-related crimes than European nations do for all offenses combined.42 The nation’s school systems go without proper funding while tax dollars go to building more and more prisons each year.43 The education of low-income people is also threatened by the war on drugs. A depressing fact is that young black males in California are now five times as likely to go to prison as to attend a state university,44 and the Bush administration has begun to enforce an obscure 1998 law that bars financial aid to students who have been convicted of any drug offense, even a minor one,45 thereby keeping desperately needed aid from poor youths. Families are torn apart by the current policy, as well; women in prison risk losing their children, because every state permits terminating prisoners’ parental rights.46 The current war on drugs has helped make AIDS an epidemic of the poor, a crisis that is more sharply divided along racial lines than ever before. Despite “the proven success of needle exchange programs in reducing the spread of HIV, AIDS, and Hepatitis C,” most states do not allow such programs to operate legally.47 According to the Centers for Disease Control, African-Americans account for 37% of AIDS cases in the United States, of which 41% are injection-related, but African-Americans comprise only 12.2% of the population.48 Additionally, Latinos account for 19.2% of of all AIDS cases, and over 44% of those cases are injection-related, but Latinos make up only 11.9% of the total population.49 These particularly frightening statistics show the vast potential for long-term damage to poor, minority communities as a result of the war on drugs.


    The alternative policy presented here would stop some of these alarming trends. In many ways, such an alternative policy would be in line with traditional American values. Freedom and opportunity have always been fundamental American values, and the alternative policy would not only give everybody more freedom to make their own choices about drugs, but would also give more opportunities to minorities and poor people who are currently starved for education and key social programs. On the other hand, the policy would require overcoming certain other aspects of traditional American culture, such as racism—a very basic part of U.S. culture that many Americans are loathe to recognize—and an attitude that people should help themselves achieve economic success without the help of the government. Still, the most basic American values: life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, would be upheld by the alternative policy.


    The fact is that the war on drugs has already been lost. Billions upon billions of taxpayers’ hard-earned dollars have been spent futilely trying to stop illegal drug use while minority and low-income communities, abandoned by the federal government, are left to pay the social price for a militaristic, hard-line policy. Stopping the cycle of poverty and violence will take broad steps toward social responsibility and away from the punitive attitudes so often found in current law enforcement agencies. Americans must come to grips with the fact that punishing and locking away users simply does not work. The ultimate goal of a democracy should be to allow people to make educated choices for themselves, rather than forcing uneducated mobs to do what politicians demand. The war on drugs must be altered to give people the knowledge needed to make their own choices about drugs, so that everybody is given a fighting chance in the even greater war on poverty and economic inequality.


    Endnotes



    1. Jann S. Wenner, “America’s War on Drugs,” Rolling Stone 16 August 2001: 82-98, p. 82.
    2. Wenner, p. 82.
    3. Wenner, p. 82.
    4. Wenner, p. 82.
    5. Wenner, p. 84.
    6. Wenner, p. 96.
    7. Wenner, p. 84.
    8. Wenner, p. 89.
    9. Wenner, p. 89.
    10. “Race and the War on Drugs,” The Lindesmith Center Drug Policy Foundation, March 2001, 28 October 2001, <http://www.lindesmith.org/library/focal_race2.html>.
    11. Wenner, p. 90.
    12. “Race and the War on Drugs.”
    13. “Race and the War on Drugs.”
    14. “Race and the War on Drugs.”
    15. “Race and the War on Drugs.”
    16. Wenner, p. 98.
    17. Wenner, p. 98.
    18. Wenner, p. 91.
    19. Wenner, p. 91.
    20. “Race and the War on Drugs.”
    21. Wenner, p. 82.
    22. “Drug Use in the United States,” Drug Enforcement Administration, 2 November 2001, <http://www.dea.gov/concern/use.htm>.
    23. “Drug Use in the United States.”
    24. Gary S. Becker, “It’s Time to Give up the War on Drugs,” Business Week 17 September 2001: 32, p. 32.
    25. Lewis, Anthony, “A War Against Ourselves (Op-Ed),” New York Times 28 April 2001, late edition (East Coast): A15.
    26. Wenner, p. 87.
    27. “Drug Use in the United States.”
    28. “The Drug War Backfires (Editorial),” New York Times 13 March 1999, late edition (East Coast): A14.
    29. Lewis, p. A15.
    30. Wenner, p. 96.
    31. Walter Kirn, “Crack Country,” New York Times Magazine 13 February 2000: 6.15, p.16. He also points out that, as a recent study showed, young people from low-income families in the country, who have even fewer activities available than inner-city children, are even more likely to abuse drugs.
    32. Dudley Clendinen, “Helping Embattled Children in America’s Cities (Editorial),” New York Times, 31 August 1999, late edition (East Coast): A20.
    33. Clendinen, p. A20.
    34. Becker, p. 32.
    35. Becker, p. 32.
    36. Wenner, p. 95.
    37. Wenner, p. 82.
    38. Lewis, p. A15.
    39. Wenner, p. 83.
    40. “Drug Use in the United States.”
    41. “Drug Use in the United States.”
    42. Becker, p. 32.
    43. “The Drug War Backfires (Editorial),” A14.
    44. “The Drug War Backfires (Editorial),” A14.
    45. Lewis, p. A15.
    46. Wenner, p. 91.
    47. “Race and the War on Drugs.”
    48. “Race and the War on Drugs.”
    49. “Race and the War on Drugs.”

    Bibliography


    Becker, Gary S. “It’s Time to Give up the War on Drugs.” Business Week 17 September 2001: 32.


    Clendinen, Dudley. “Helping Embattled Children in America’s Cities (Editorial).” New York Times 31 August 1999, late edition (East Coast): A20.


    “Drug Use in the United States.” Drug Enforcement Administration. 2 November 2001. <http://www.dea.gov/concern/use.htm>.


    “The Drug War Backfires (Editorial).” New York Times 13 March 1999, late edition (East Coast): A14.


    Kirn, Walter. “Crack Country.” New York Times Magazine 13 February 2000: 6.15.


    Lewis, Anthony. “A War Against Ourselves (Op-Ed).” New York Times 28 April 2001, late edition (East Coast): A15.


    “Race and the War on Drugs.” The Lindesmith Center Drug Policy Foundation. March 2001. 28 October 2001. <http://www.lindesmith.org/library/focal_race2.html>.


    Wenner, Jann S. “America’s War on Drugs.” Rolling Stone 16 August 2001: 82-98.


     


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  • September 23, 2004

    CAMPAIGN 2004: THE BIG ISSUES


    How Not to Save Social Security







    Among the clear-cut policy differences between President Bush and Senator John Kerry is each man's take on Social Security. In his acceptance speech at the Republican convention, Mr. Bush said, "We must strengthen Social Security by allowing younger workers to save some of their taxes in a personal account." Mr. Kerry, in his acceptance speech, said, "I will not privatize Social Security."


    Mr. Kerry is right, and Mr. Bush is wrong. The president's plan would do the opposite of what Mr. Bush claims. It would weaken Social Security, hurt the economy and endanger many workers' retirements by pushing them into unreasonable risks in the stock market. If Mr. Bush were a broker peddling stocks to low-income, uninsured, indebted individuals like many of the Americans who would be included in his plan, he would be violating rules that require brokers to recommend only suitable investments.


    When responsible politicians talk about "fixing" Social Security, what they generally mean is finding a way to guarantee a basic level of financial security for the elderly while closing the gap that will develop over time in the system's finances if nothing is done. Social Security's trustees plan for solvency over 75 years. Currently, the program is projected to come up short in 2042, when it will be able to pay about 70 percent of the promised benefits. That's a lot of money, but the gap can be bridged over the next 38 years with a package of modest reforms, which we will discuss in a future editorial.


    What Mr. Bush proposes - allowing workers to divert some of their Social Security taxes into personal investment accounts in exchange for agreeing in advance to receive a much-reduced guaranteed government benefit when they retire - would neither provide retirement security, nor take care of the solvency of the Social Security system. And it would wreak havoc with the overall federal budget.


    In proposing personal accounts, Mr. Bush has promised to retain the current benefits for today's retirees and for those who are nearing retirement. So for some 40 years, workers would be making deposits into their accounts with tax money that - under the current system - would have been used to pay the benefits of those who are retired. The government would have to make up the difference, and Mr. Bush has no reasonable plan for covering this cost, which is estimated to be at least $1 trillion.


    That leaves three general possibilities: immense government borrowing, draconian cuts in other programs or higher taxes. In a 1997 report by President Bill Clinton's Advisory Council on Social Security, those who favored ample mandatory personal accounts proposed a national sales tax of 1 percent and $1.2 trillion in government borrowing.


    If offsetting steps were not taken immediately, the reduced cash flow in the transition period would drive the Social Security trust fund into the red about 15 years earlier than is currently projected. That, too, would require wrenching fiscal moves - borrowing, spending cuts, tax increases - to avoid default on the government's obligation to retirees.


    When workers in a partly privatized system reached retirement, they would find that higher interest rates caused by huge deficits, reductions in government services or higher taxes had offset some - if not all - of the sums they had accumulated in personal accounts. And they would get smaller government benefits than they would if Social Security had been reformed in a more sensible way.


    However Social Security is reformed, when younger workers retire, their benefits are likely to be smaller than the benefits promised to current retirees. But a partly privatized system would produce a cut that's likely to be bigger and an income that would be far less reliable. That's because the government benefit is cut more deeply under privatization, and how much you can actually accumulate in a personal account would depend on the stock market. Anyone who lived through the 1990's knows that investing in stocks can leave you with less than you started with.


    Privatization would invite overexposure to the stock market - a risk that is not justified by the potential return. Most people who already save for retirement rely heavily on stock investments through 401(k)'s and other savings plans. Even workers who have traditional pensions are more exposed to the stock market than ever, as employers increasingly strive for outsized stock market returns to make up for inadequate contributions to their plans.


    And people without pensions or enough income to save money in retirement plans generally do not belong in the stock market at all. Stock investing makes sense only after you have accumulated an emergency cash reserve, are adequately insured and have paid off consumer debt. Personal accounts within Social Security would perpetuate the wrongheaded notion that the stock market can bail everyone out. It can't. Mr. Bush does everyone a disservice by implying that it will.


    The personal account idea also does nothing about another big reason that Social Security needs reforming: people are living longer. Unless the government mandates that people convert their personal accounts into private annuities, retirees are in danger of outliving their money, leaving them to survive on the meager government benefit. And they would lose the inflation protection built into government benefits, which is increasingly important the longer you live. Those most at risk of impoverishment are old women, who live three years longer than men on average and are far less likely to have private pensions.


    There is a broad social argument against privatization, which is that we all lose if our fellow citizens come up short in their quest for secure retirements. By taking the financial risk out of growing old, Social Security has had remarkable results for society at large. Poverty among the elderly is now 10 percent, down from 30 percent in 1960. Like any sound insurance system, Social Security works by broadly pooling risks. It protects everyone because it includes everyone. Personal accounts move Social Security away from a comprehensive system to one in which it's increasingly every man for himself.


    None of these arguments deter Mr. Bush and other advocates of personal accounts. For them, Social Security is primarily an ideological struggle. Social Security supports retirees by shifting income from the young to the old via taxes, and from the rich to the poor via the formula for calculating benefits. To Mr. Bush and his supporters, taxation and redistribution are anathema, and Social Security is an anticapitalist ploy to squelch initiative and growth. Those same arguments were leveled against Social Security when President Franklin Roosevelt established it in 1935, and when its constitutionality was upheld by the Supreme Court in 1937.


     


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