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Student enrollment and expenditures per student have been on the rise in sub-Saharan Africa over the past decade. Yet, financing gaps still exist for achieving universal quality education throughout the region, especially in countries with strong demographic pressures. Many African countries are facing a dilemma of how best to balance scarce resources and the growing demands to improve education quality for their children and youth.

On April 27, the Center for Universal Education and the Africa Growth Initiative at Brookings hosted a discussion of the state of education financing in sub-Saharan Africa. Albert Motivans of UNESCO’s Institute for Statistics presented the main findings of a new report "Financing Education in sub-Saharan Africa," which focuses on the new challenges related to expanding access, equity and quality education. Shantayanan Devarajan of the World Bank and Brookings Senior Fellow Jacques van der Gaag provided commentary, and Senior Fellow Mwangi Kimenyi, director of the Africa Growth Initiative, moderated the discussion.

After the discussion, the panelists took audience questions.

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• Africa’s Education Financing Challenge

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• Motivans UNESCO presentation (.pdf)
• Financing Education in Sub-Saharan Africa (.pdf)

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2016 Richard C. Holbrooke Forum

On February 5, the Foreign Policy program at Brookings hosted the American Academy in Berlin for the 2016 Richard C. Holbrooke Forum for a two-part public event focusing on the global refugee crisis. Brookings Isaiah Berlin Senior Fellow in Culture and Policy Leon Wieseltier delivered featured remarks on the moral dimensions of the refugee crisis. Wieseltier is currently completing an essay on certain moral, historical, and philosophical dimensions of the refugee crisis. Michael Ignatieff, Edward R. Murrow professor of practice at the Harvard Kennedy School, moderated a question and answer session following Wieseltier’s remarks.

The second panel featured experts addressing the first-step policies needed to ameliorate the crisis. Bruce Katz, Brookings centennial scholar, Tamara Wittes, director of Brookings’s Center for Middle East Policy, Elizabeth Ferris, research professor at Georgetown University and Brookings nonresident senior fellow, spoke to the multiple aspects of the refugee crisis. Brookings Executive Vice President Martin Indyk moderated the panel discussion.

Bruce Jones, vice president and director for the Foreign Policy program, provided introductory remarks.

Join the conversation on Twitter using #RefugeeCrisis

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• The global refugee crisis: Moral dimensions
• The global refugee crisis: Practical solutions

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• The global refugee crisis: Moral dimensions and practical solutions

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Editors’ Note: In a recent interview with Foreign Policy Interrupted, Tamara Wittes was asked about how the situation in the Middle East has changed since she published her 2008 book Freedom’s Unsteady March. Five years after the Arab uprisings and the start of the Syrian civil war, and a year and a half after the Islamic State captured Mosul (along with the world’s attention), Tamara says that many of the same fundamental dynamics in the Middle East are still at work.

The situation in the region has changed so dramatically since then, but I think that the fundamental insights that informed that book remain true. The underlying drivers of change in the Middle East are still there in terms of the demographic drivers, the economic drivers, the technological drivers that I described in the book; they are all still present.

Although there’s a lot of disorder and a lot of violence, and that leads people on the ground to prioritize security and to search for security in different ways, that doesn’t mean that they’re going to be satisfied. It doesn’t mean that the, “well, at least it’s not ISIS” line is going to suffice for governments in the Middle East for very long.

The underlying drivers of change are still present, the pressure for change is still present, and a lot of those pressures are about the simple fact of individual empowerment. Expectations shifted, and people, individuals, have the ability to act in ways that they didn’t before. States and governments have to accommodate that. It’s affecting politics all over the world, and the Middle East is not immune.

So the question becomes: how are governments going to learn to accommodate that and turn it into a strength? I think that the United States does have a really important role to play there. There were mistakes that the Bush administration made—setting aside his vision of Iraq, which has of course been very thoroughly discussed and assessed. But even in terms of non-military intervention to try to advance reform, the critique I made in the book is that the Bush administration was overly focused on political process and elections in particular. I think that one of the other lessons that has come of recent years is that the United States and other Western countries get very focused on political institutions and think, well, if we set up a judicial system, and we set up a parliament, and a constitution, then the gears in the machine sort of start to turn, the states start to function. Look at the rebuilding efforts in Afghanistan, for example.

But what we see in the Middle East today is that formal institutions aren’t enough. People have to have trust in the institutions, and people and communities have to have sufficient agreement on the basic rules of the game to make those institutions legitimate and authoritative. And that’s what’s missing in a lot of places around the region right now, that there isn’t enough dialogue and debate and ultimately negotiated agreement on the basic rules of the game. So I think that the challenge for the United States and others who care about stability in the Middle East going forward is how to help cultivate platforms for that kind of dialogue, and how to help cultivate the skills and the mechanisms for resolving very fundamental questions about how government should be organized and what should be the role of religion and politics, and what’s the balance between individual rights and collective identity.

These are big, big, questions, and right now, in too many places, they are being fought over violently. But the questions still have to be answered, and so the challenge is helping develop ways to do that, to do it peacefully.

       

       

       

       

First it was the Europeans who sought an escape from the tragic realities of power that had bloodied their 20th century. At the end of the Cold War, they began to disarm themselves in the hopeful belief that arms and traditional measures of power no longer mattered. A new international system of laws and institutions would replace the old system of power; the world would model itself on the European Union—and if not, the U.S. would still be there to provide security the old-fashioned way.

But now, in the wake of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, it is the U.S. that seems to be yearning for an escape from the burdens of power and a reprieve from the tragic realities of human existence.

Until recent events at least, a majority of Americans (and of the American political and intellectual classes) seem to have come close to concluding not only that war is horrible but also that it is ineffective in our modern, globalized world. "There is an evolving international order with new global norms making war and conquest increasingly rare," wrote Fareed Zakaria of CNN, borrowing from Steven Pinker of Harvard, practically on the eve of Russia's invasion of Ukraine and the Islamic State's march across Syria and Iraq. Best-selling histories of World War I teach that nations don't willingly go to war but only "sleepwalk" into them due to tragic miscalculations or downright silliness.

For a quarter-century, Americans have been told that at the end of history lies boredom rather than great conflict, that nations with McDonald's never fight one another, that economic interdependence and nuclear weapons make war among great powers unlikely if not impossible. Recently added to these nostrums has been the mantra of futility. "There is no military solution" is the constant refrain of Western statesmen regarding conflicts from Syria to Ukraine; indeed, military action only makes problems worse. Power itself isn't even what it used to be, argued the columnist Moisés Naím in a widely praised recent book.

History has a way of answering such claims. The desire to escape from power is certainly not new; it has been the constant aspiration of Enlightenment liberalism for more than two centuries.

The impossibility of war was conventional wisdom in the years before World War I, and it became conventional wisdom again—at least in Britain and the U.S.—practically the day after the war ended. Then as now, Americans and Britons solipsistically believed that everyone shared their disillusionment with war. They imagined that because war was horrible and irrational, as the Great War had surely demonstrated, no sane people would choose it.

What happened next, as the peaceful 1920s descended into the violent and savage 1930s, may be instructive for our own time. Back then, the desire to avoid war—combined with the surety that no nation could rationally seek it—led logically and naturally to policies of appeasement.

The countries threatening aggression, after all, had grievances, as most countries almost always do. They were "have-not" powers in a world dominated by the rich and powerful Anglo-Saxon nations, and they demanded a fairer distribution of the goods. In the case of Germany, resentment over the Versailles peace settlement smoldered because territories and populations once under Germany's control had been taken away to provide security for Germany's neighbors. In the case of Japan, the island power with the overflowing population needed control of the Asian mainland to survive and prosper in competition with the other great powers.

So the liberal powers tried to reason with them, to understand and even accept their grievances and seek to assuage them, even if this meant sacrificing others—the Chinese and the Czechs, for instance—to their rule. It seemed a reasonable price, unfortunate though it might be, to avoid another catastrophic war. This was the realism of the 1930s.

Eventually, however, the liberal powers discovered that the grievances of the "have-not" powers went beyond what even the most generous and conflict-averse could satisfy. The most fundamental grievance, it turned out, was that of being forced to live in a world shaped by others—to be German or Japanese in a world dominated by Anglo-Saxons.

To satisfy this grievance would require more than marginal territorial or economic adjustments or even the sacrifice of a small and weak state here or there. It would require allowing the "have-not" powers to reshape the international political and economic order to suit their needs. More than that, it would require letting those powers become strong enough to dictate the terms of international order—for how else could they emerge from their unjust oppression?

Finally, it became clear that more was going on than rational demands for justice, at least as the Enlightenment mind understood the term. It turned out that the aggressors' policies were the product not only of material grievances but of desires that transcended mere materialism and rationality.

Their leaders, and to a great extent their publics, rejected liberal notions of progress and reason. They were moved instead by romantic yearnings for past glories or past orders and rejected Enlightenment notions of modernity. Their predatory or paranoid rulers either fatalistically accepted (in the case of Japan) or positively welcomed (in the case of Germany) armed conflict as the natural state of human affairs.

By the time all this became unmistakably obvious to the liberal powers, by the time they realized that they were dealing with people who didn't think as they did, by the time they grasped that nothing short of surrender would avoid conflict and that giving the aggressors even part of what they demanded—Manchuria, Indochina, Czechoslovakia—only strengthened them without satisfying them, it was too late to avoid precisely the world war that Britain, France, the U.S. and others had desperately tried to prevent.

This searing experience—not just World War II but also the failed effort to satisfy those who couldn't be satisfied—shaped U.S. policy in the postwar era. For the generations that shared this experience, it imposed a new and different sense of realism about the nature of humankind and the international system. Hopes for a new era of peace were tempered.

American leaders and the American public generally if regretfully accepted the inescapable and tragic reality of power. They adopted the posture of armed liberalism. They built unimaginably destructive weapons by the thousands. They deployed hundreds of thousands of troops overseas, in the heart of Europe and along the rim of East Asia, to serve as forward deterrents to aggression. They fought wars in distant and largely unknown lands, sometimes foolishly and sometimes ineffectively but always with the idea—almost certainly correct—that failure to act against aggressors would only invite further aggression.

In general, except for a brief bout of fatalism under President Richard Nixon and former Secretary of State Henry Kissinger, they were disinclined to assuage or even acknowledge the grievances of those who opposed them. (President Harry Truman and Secretary of State Dean Acheson, the architects of armed liberalism, never had much interest in bargaining with the Soviets, while President Ronald Reagan was interested chiefly in bargaining over the terms of their surrender.)

Behind the actions of the U.S. architects of containment lay the belief, based on hard experience, that other peoples couldn't always be counted on to value what the liberal world valued—prosperity, human rights or even peace—and therefore the liberal world had to be constantly on its guard, well-armed and well-prepared against the next stirring of the non-liberal, atavistic urges that were a permanent feature of humankind.

How much easier it was to maintain this tragic vigilance while the illiberal, conflict-based ideology of communism reigned across more than half of the Eurasian continent—and how much harder has it been to sustain that vigilance since the fall of communism seemingly ushered in a new era of universal liberalism, and with it the prospect, finally, of a Kantian peace in a world dominated by democracy.

For a time in the 1990s, while the generations of World War II and the early Cold War survived, the old lessons still guided policy. President George H.W. Bush and his national security adviser, Brent Scowcroft, sent half a million American troops to fight thousands of miles away for no other reason than to thwart aggression and restore a desert kingdom that had been invaded by its tyrant neighbor. Kuwait enjoyed no security guarantee with the U.S.; the oil wells on its lands would have been equally available to the West if operated by Iraq; and the 30-year-old emirate ruled by the al-Sabah family had less claim to sovereign nationhood than Ukraine has today. Nevertheless, as Mr. Bush later recalled, "I wanted no appeasement."

A little more than a decade later, however, the U.S. is a changed country. Because of the experiences in Iraq and Afghanistan, to suggest sending even a few thousand troops to fight anywhere for any reason is almost unthinkable. The most hawkish members of Congress don't think it safe to argue for a ground attack on the Islamic State or for a NATO troop presence in Ukraine. There is no serious discussion of reversing the cuts in the defense budget, even though the strategic requirements of defending U.S. allies in Europe, Asia and the Middle East have rarely been more manifest while America's ability to do so has rarely been more in doubt.

But Americans, their president and their elected representatives have accepted this gap between strategy and capability with little comment—except by those who would abandon the strategy. It is as if, once again, Americans believe their disillusionment with the use of force somehow means that force is no longer a factor in international affairs.

In the 1930s, this illusion was dispelled by Germany and Japan, whose leaders and publics very much believed in the utility of military power. Today, as the U.S. seems to seek its escape from power, others are stepping forward, as if on cue, to demonstrate just how effective raw power really can be.

Once again, they are people who never accepted the liberal world's definition of progress and modernity and who don't share its hierarchy of values. They are not driven primarily by economic considerations. They have never put their faith in the power of soft power, never believed that world opinion (no matter how outraged) could prevent successful conquest by a determined military. They are undeterred by their McDonald's. They still believe in the old-fashioned verities of hard power, at home and abroad. And if they are not met by a sufficient hard-power response, they will prove that, yes, there is such a thing as a military solution.

This lesson won't be lost on others who wield increasing power in other parts of the world and who, like Vladimir Putin's autocratic Russia and Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi's fanatical Islamic State, have grievances of their own. In the 1930s, when things began to go bad, they went very bad very quickly. Japan's invasion of Manchuria in 1931 exposed the hollow shell that was the League of Nations—a lesson acted upon by Hitler and Mussolini in the four years that followed. Then Germany's military successes in Europe emboldened Japan to make its move in East Asia on the not unreasonable assumption that Britain and the U.S. would be too distracted and overstretched to respond. The successive assaults of the illiberal aggressors, and the successive failures of the liberal powers, thus led to a cascade of disasters.

The wise men and women of our own time insist that this history is irrelevant. They tell us, when they are not announcing America's irrevocable decline, that our adversaries are too weak to pose a real threat, even as they pile victory upon victory. Russia is a declining power, they argue. But then, Russia has been declining for 400 years. Can declining powers not wreak havoc? Does it help us to know that, in retrospect, Japan lacked the wealth and power to win the war it started in 1941?

Let us hope that those who urge calm are right, but it is hard to avoid the impression that we have already had our 1931. As we head deeper into our version of the 1930s, we may be quite shocked, just as our forebears were, at how quickly things fall apart.

This piece was originally published by Wall Street Journal.

      

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The U.S.-led international order faces three simultaneous challenges—a rising power in East Asia, a declining but aggressive power in Eastern Europe and the unraveling of regional order in the Middle East. Left unchecked, events in Ukraine, the East China Sea and Iraq and Syria have the potential to seriously undermine an international system that has helped to guarantee peace and stability since the end of World War II.

On October 2, the Project on International Order and Strategy and the Center for 21st Century Security and Intelligence at Brookings co-hosted an event on these growing threats and the policies or strategy the United States needs to meet these challenges. The event brought together scholars from across the Brookings Foreign Policy Program with a range of regional and functional expertise.

The first panel focused on the range of threats the international order faces and whether (and how) the United States should prioritize these challenges and threats. The second panel asked whether the United States needs new regional strategies or a new grand strategy, how the United States can deter and rollback acts of revisionism and how the campaign against the Islamic State can fit into a broader Middle East strategy. Both panels sought to address the question of whether or not the United States can ultimately restore the international order to good health.

Join the conversation on Twitter using #InternationalOrder

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• The International Order Under Siege

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• Uncorrected Transcript (.pdf)

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Politics follows geopolitics, or so it has often seemed throughout history. When the Athenian democracy’s empire rose in the fifth century B.C.E., the number of Greek city-states ruled by democrats proliferated; Sparta’s power was reflected in the spread of Spartan-style oligarchies. When the Soviet Union’s power rose in the early Cold War years, communism spread. In the later Cold War years, when the United States and Western Europe gained the advantage and ultimately triumphed, democracies proliferated and communism collapsed. Was this all just the outcome of the battle of ideas, as Francis Fukuyama and others argue, with the better idea of liberal capitalism triumphing over the worse ideas of communism and fascism? Or did liberal ideas triumph in part because of real battles and shifts that occurred less in the realm of thought than in the realm of power?

These are relevant questions again. We live in a time when democratic nations are in retreat in the realm of geopolitics, and when democracy itself is also in retreat. The latter phenomenon has been well documented by Freedom House, which has recorded declines in freedom in the world for nine straight years. At the level of geopolitics, the shifting tectonic plates have yet to produce a seismic rearrangement of power, but rumblings are audible. The United States has been in a state of retrenchment since President Barack Obama took office in 2009. The democratic nations of Europe, which some might have expected to pick up the slack, have instead turned inward and all but abandoned earlier dreams of reshaping the international system in their image. As for such rising democracies as Brazil, India, Turkey, and South Africa, they are neither rising as fast as once anticipated nor yet behaving as democracies in world affairs. Their focus remains narrow and regional. Their national identities remain shaped by postcolonial and nonaligned sensibilities—by old but carefully nursed resentments—which lead them, for instance, to shield rather than condemn autocratic Russia’s invasion of democratic Ukraine, or, in the case of Brazil, to prefer the company of Venezuelan dictators to that of North American democratic presidents.

Meanwhile, insofar as there is energy in the international system, it comes from the great-power autocracies, China and Russia, and from would-be theocrats pursuing their dream of a new caliphate in the Middle East. For all their many problems and weaknesses, it is still these autocracies and these aspiring religious totalitarians that push forward while the democracies draw back, that act while the democracies react, and that seem increasingly unleashed while the democracies feel increasingly constrained.

It should not be surprising that one of the side effects of these circumstances has been the weakening and in some cases collapse of democracy in those places where it was newest and weakest. Geopolitical shifts among the reigning great powers, often but not always the result of wars, can have significant effects on the domestic politics of the smaller and weaker nations of the world. Global democratizing trends have been stopped and reversed before.

Consider the interwar years. In 1920, when the number of democracies in the world had doubled in the aftermath of the First World War, contemporaries such as the British historian James Bryce believed that they were witnessing “a natural trend, due to a general law of social progress.”[1] Yet almost immediately the new democracies in Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, and Poland began to fall. Europe’s democratic great powers, France and Britain, were suffering the effects of the recent devastating war, while the one rich and healthy democratic power, the United States, had retreated to the safety of its distant shores. In the vacuum came Mussolini’s rise to power in Italy in 1922, the crumbling of Germany’s Weimar Republic, and the broader triumph of European fascism. Greek democracy fell in 1936. Spanish democracy fell to Franco that same year. Military coups overthrew democratic governments in Portugal, Brazil, Uruguay, and Argentina. Japan’s shaky democracy succumbed to military rule and then to a form of fascism.

Across three continents, fragile democracies gave way to authoritarian forces exploiting the vulnerabilities of the democratic system, while other democracies fell prey to the worldwide economic depression. There was a ripple effect, too—the success of fascism in one country strengthened similar movements elsewhere, sometimes directly. Spanish fascists received military assistance from the fascist regimes in Germany and Italy. The result was that by 1939 the democratic gains of the previous forty years had been wiped out.

The period after the First World War showed not only that democratic gains could be reversed, but that democracy need not always triumph even in the competition of ideas. For it was not just that democracies had been overthrown. The very idea of democracy had been “discredited,” as John A. Hobson observed.[2] Democracy’s aura of inevitability vanished as great numbers of people rejected the idea that it was a better form of government. Human beings, after all, do not yearn only for freedom, autonomy, individuality, and recognition. Especially in times of difficulty, they yearn also for comfort, security, order, and, importantly, a sense of belonging to something larger than themselves, something that submerges autonomy and individuality—all of which autocracies can sometimes provide, or at least appear to provide, better than democracies. 

In the 1920s and 1930s, the fascist governments looked stronger, more energetic and efficient, and more capable of providing reassurance in troubled times. They appealed effectively to nationalist, ethnic, and tribal sentiments. The many weaknesses of Germany’s Weimar democracy, inadequately supported by the democratic great powers, and of the fragile and short-lived democracies of Italy and Spain made their people susceptible to the appeals of the Nazis, Mussolini, and Franco, just as the weaknesses of Russian democracy in the 1990s made a more authoritarian government under Vladimir Putin attractive to many Russians. People tend to follow winners, and between the wars the democratic-capitalist countries looked weak and in retreat compared with the apparently vigorous fascist regimes and with Stalin’s Soviet Union.

It took a second world war and another military victory by the Allied democracies (plus the Soviet Union) to reverse the trend again. The United States imposed democracy by force and through prolonged occupations in West Germany, Italy, Japan, Austria, and South Korea. With the victory of the democracies and the discrediting of fascism—chiefly on the battlefield—many other countries followed suit. Greece and Turkey both moved in a democratic direction, as did Brazil, Argentina, Peru, Ecuador, Venezuela, and Colombia. Some of the new nations born as Europe shed its colonies also experimented with democratic government, the most prominent example being India. By 1950, the number of democracies had grown to between twenty and thirty, and they governed close to 40 percent of the world’s population.

Was this the victory of an idea or the victory of arms? Was it the product of an inevitable human evolution or, as Samuel P. Huntington later observed, of “historically discrete events”?[3] We would prefer to believe the former, but evidence suggests the latter, for it turned out that even the great wave of democracy following World War II was not irreversible. Another “reverse wave” hit from the late 1950s through the early 1970s. Peru, Brazil, Argentina, Bolivia, Chile, Uruguay, Ecuador, South Korea, the Philippines, Pakistan, Indonesia, and Greece all fell back under authoritarian rule. In Africa, Nigeria was the most prominent of the newly decolonized nations where democracy failed. By 1975, more than three-dozen governments around the world had been installed by military coups.[4] Few spoke of democracy’s inevitability in the 1970s or even in the early 1980s. As late as 1984, Huntington himself believed that “the limits of democratic development in the world” had been reached, noting the “unreceptivity to democracy of several major cultural traditions,” as well as “the substantial power of antidemocratic governments (particularly the Soviet Union).”[5]

But then, unexpectedly, came the “third wave.” From the mid-1970s through the early 1990s, the number of democracies in the world rose to an astonishing 120, representing well over half the world’s population. What explained the prolonged success of democratization over the last quarter of the twentieth century? It could not have been merely the steady rise of the global economy and the general yearning for freedom, autonomy, and recognition. Neither economic growth nor human yearnings had prevented the democratic reversals of the 1960s and early 1970s. Until the third wave, many nations around the world careened back and forth between democracy and authoritarianism in a cyclical, almost predictable manner. What was most notable about the third wave was that this cyclical alternation between democracy and autocracy was interrupted. Nations moved into a democratic phase and stayed there. But why?

The International Climate Improves

The answer is related to the configuration of power and ideas in the world. The international climate from the mid-1970s onward was simply more hospitable to democracies and more challenging to autocratic governments than had been the case in past eras. In his study, Huntington emphasized the change, following the Second Vatican Council, in the Catholic Church’s doctrine regarding order and revolution, which tended to weaken the legitimacy of authoritarian governments in Catholic countries. The growing success and attractiveness of the European Community (EC), meanwhile, had an impact on the internal policies of nations such as Portugal, Greece, and Spain, which sought the economic benefits of membership in the EC and therefore felt pressure to conform to its democratic norms. These norms increasingly became international norms. But they did not appear out of nowhere or as the result of some natural evolution of the human species. As Huntington noted, “The pervasiveness of democratic norms rested in large part on the commitment to those norms of the most powerful country in the world.[6]

The United States, in fact, played a critical role in making the explosion of democracy possible. This was not because U.S. policy makers consistently promoted democracy around the world. They did not. At various times throughout the Cold War, U.S. policy often supported dictatorships as part of the battle against communism or simply out of indifference. It even permitted or was complicit in the overthrow of democratic regimes deemed unreliable—those of Mohammad Mossadegh in Iran in 1953, Jacobo Arbenz in Guatemala in 1954, and Salvador Allende in Chile in 1973. At times, U.S. foreign policy was almost hostile to democracy. President Richard Nixon regarded it as “not necessarily the best form of government for people in Asia, Africa, and Latin America.”[7] 

Nor, when the United States did support democracy, was it purely out of fealty to principle. Often it was for strategic reasons. Officials in President Ronald Reagan’s administration came to believe that democratic governments might actually be better than autocracies at fending off communist insurgencies, for instance. And often it was popular local demands that compelled the United States to make a choice that it would otherwise have preferred to avoid, between supporting an unpopular and possibly faltering dictatorship and “getting on the side of the people.” Reagan would have preferred to support the dictatorship of Ferdinand Marcos in the 1980s had he not been confronted by the moral challenge of Filipino “people power.” Rarely if ever did the United States seek a change of regime primarily out of devotion to democratic principles.

Beginning in the mid-1970s, however, the general inclination of the United States did begin to shift toward a more critical view of dictatorship. The U.S. Congress, led by human-rights advocates, began to condition or cut off U.S. aid to authoritarian allies, which weakened their hold on power. In the Helsinki Accords of 1975, a reference to human-rights issues drew greater attention to the cause of dissidents and other opponents of dictatorship in the Eastern bloc. President Jimmy Carter focused attention on the human-rights abuses of the Soviet Union as well as of right-wing governments in Latin America and elsewhere. The U.S. government’s international information services, including the Voice of America and Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty, put greater emphasis on democracy and human rights in their programming. The Reagan administration, after first trying to roll back Carter’s human-rights agenda, eventually embraced it and made the promotion of democracy part of its stated (if not always its actual) policy. Even during this period, U.S. policy was far from consistent. Many allied dictatorships, especially in the Middle East, were not only tolerated but actively supported with U.S. economic and military aid. But the net effect of the shift in U.S. policy, joined with the efforts of Europe, was significant.

The third wave began in 1974 in Portugal, where the Carnation Revolution put an end to a half-century of dictatorship. As Larry Diamond notes, this revolution did not just happen. The United States and the European democracies played a key role, making a “heavy investment . . . in support of the democratic parties.”[8] Over the next decade and a half, the United States used a variety of tools, including direct military intervention, to aid democratic transitions and prevent the undermining of existing fragile democracies all across the globe. In 1978, Carter threatened military action in the Dominican Republic when long-serving president Joaquín Balaguer refused to give up power after losing an election. In 1983, Reagan’s invasion of Grenada restored a democratic government after a military coup. In 1986, the United States threatened military action to prevent Marcos from forcibly annulling an election that he had lost. In 1989, President George H.W. Bush invaded Panama to help install democracy after military strongman Manuel Noriega had annulled his nation’s elections. 

Throughout this period, too, the United States used its influence to block military coups in Honduras, Bolivia, El Salvador, Peru, and South Korea. Elsewhere it urged presidents not to try staying in office beyond constitutional limits. Huntington estimated that over the course of about a decade and a half, U.S. support had been “critical to democratization in the Dominican Republic, Grenada, El Salvador, Guatemala, Honduras, Uruguay, Peru, Ecuador, Panama, and the Philippines” and was “a contributing factor to democratization in Portugal, Chile, Poland, Korea, Bolivia, and Taiwan.”[9]

Many developments both global and local helped to produce the democratizing trend of the late 1970s and the 1980s, and there might have been a democratic wave even if the United States had not been so influential. The question is whether the wave would have been as large and as lasting. The stable zones of democracy in Europe and Japan proved to be powerful magnets. The liberal free-market and free-trade system increasingly outperformed the stagnating economies of the socialist bloc, especially at the dawn of the information revolution. The greater activism of the United States, together with that of other successful democracies, helped to build a broad, if not universal, consensus that was more sympathetic to democratic forms of government and less sympathetic to authoritarian forms.

Diamond and others have noted how important it was that these “global democratic norms” came to be “reflected in regional and international institutions and agreements as never before.”[10] Those norms had an impact on the internal political processes of countries, making it harder for authoritarians to weather political and economic storms and easier for democratic movements to gain legitimacy. But “norms” are transient as well. In the 1930s, the trendsetting nations were fascist dictatorships. In the 1950s and 1960s, variants of socialism were in vogue. But from the 1970s until recently, the United States and a handful of other democratic powers set the fashion trend. They pushed—some might even say imposed—democratic principles and embedded them in international institutions and agreements.

Equally important was the role that the United States played in preventing backsliding away from democracy where it had barely taken root. Perhaps the most significant U.S. contribution was simply to prevent military coups against fledgling democratic governments. In a sense, the United States was interfering in what might have been a natural cycle, preventing nations that ordinarily would have been “due” for an authoritarian phase from following the usual pattern. It was not that the United States was exporting democracy everywhere. More often, it played the role of “catcher in the rye”—preventing young democracies from falling off the cliff—in places such as the Philippines, Colombia, and Panama. This helped to give the third wave unprecedented breadth and durability.

Finally, there was the collapse of the Soviet Union and with it the fall of Central and Eastern Europe’s communist regimes and their replacement by democracies. What role the United States played in hastening the Soviet downfall may be in dispute, but surely it played some part, both by containing the Soviet empire militarily and by outperforming it economically and technologically. And at the heart of the struggle were the peoples of the former Warsaw Pact countries themselves. They had long yearned to achieve the liberation of their respective nations from the Soviet Union, which also meant liberation from communism. These peoples wanted to join the rest of Europe, which offered an economic and social model that was even more attractive than that of the United States. 

That Central and East Europeans uniformly chose democratic forms of government, however, was not simply the fruit of aspirations for freedom or comfort. It also reflected the desires of these peoples to place themselves under the U.S. security umbrella. The strategic, the economic, the political, and the ideological were thus inseparable. Those nations that wanted to be part of NATO, and later of the European Union, knew that they would stand no chance of admission without democratic credentials. These democratic transitions, which turned the third wave into a democratic tsunami, need not have occurred had the world been configured differently. That a democratic, united, and prosperous Western Europe was even there to exert a powerful magnetic pull on its eastern neighbors was due to U.S. actions after World War II.

The Lost Future of 1848

Contrast the fate of democratic movements in the late twentieth century with that of the liberal revolutions that swept Europe in 1848. Beginning in France, the “Springtime of the Peoples,” as it was known, included liberal reformers and constitutionalists, nationalists, and representatives of the rising middle class as well as radical workers and socialists. In a matter of weeks, they toppled kings and princes and shook thrones in France, Poland, Austria, and Romania, as well as the Italian peninsula and the German principalities. In the end, however, the liberal movements failed, partly because they lacked cohesion, but also because the autocratic powers forcibly crushed them. The Prussian army helped to defeat liberal movements in the German lands, while the Russian czar sent his troops into Romania and Hungary. Tens of thousands of protesters were killed in the streets of Europe. The sword proved mightier than the pen.

It mattered that the more liberal powers, Britain and France, adopted a neutral posture throughout the liberal ferment, even though France’s own revolution had sparked and inspired the pan-European movement. The British monarchy and aristocracy were afraid of radicalism at home. Both France and Britain were more concerned with preserving peace among the great powers than with providing assistance to fellow liberals. The preservation of the European balance among the five great powers benefited the forces of counterrevolution everywhere, and the Springtime of the Peoples was suppressed.[11] As a result, for several decades the forces of reaction in Europe were strengthened against the forces of liberalism.

Scholars have speculated about how differently Europe and the world might have evolved had the liberal revolutions of 1848 succeeded: How might German history have unfolded had national unification been achieved under a liberal parliamentary system rather than under the leadership of Otto von Bismarck? The “Iron Chancellor” unified the nation not through elections and debates, but through military victories won by the great power of the conservative Prussian army under the Hohenzollern dynasty. As the historian A.J.P. Taylor observed, history reached a turning point in 1848, but Germany “failed to turn.”[12] Might Germans have learned a different lesson from the one that Bismarck taught—namely, that “the great questions of the age are not decided by speeches and majority decisions . . . but by blood and iron”?[13] Yet the international system of the day was not configured in such a way as to encourage liberal and democratic change. The European balance of power in the mid-nineteenth century did not favor democracy, and so it is not surprising that democracy failed to triumph anywhere.[14] 

We can also speculate about how differently today’s world might have evolved without the U.S. role in shaping an international environment favorable to democracy, and how it might evolve should the United States find itself no longer strong enough to play that role. Democratic transitions are not inevitable, even where the conditions may be ripe. Nations may enter a transition zone—economically, socially, and politically—where the probability of moving in a democratic direction increases or decreases. But foreign influences, usually exerted by the reigning great powers, often determine which direction change takes. Strong authoritarian powers willing to support conservative forces against liberal movements can undo what might otherwise have been a “natural” evolution to democracy, just as powerful democratic nations can help liberal forces that, left to their own devices, might otherwise fail. 

In the 1980s as in the 1840s, liberal movements arose for their own reasons in different countries, but their success or failure was influenced by the balance of power at the international level. In the era of U.S. predominance, the balance was generally favorable to democracy, which helps to explain why the liberal revolutions of that later era succeeded. Had the United States not been so powerful, there would have been fewer transitions to democracy, and those that occurred might have been short-lived. It might have meant a shallower and more easily reversed third wave.[15] 

Democracy, Autocracy, and Power

What about today? With the democratic superpower curtailing its global influence, regional powers are setting the tone in their respective regions. Not surprisingly, dictatorships are more common in the environs of Russia, along the borders of China (North Korea, Burma, and Thailand), and in the Middle East, where long dictatorial traditions have so far mostly withstood the challenge of popular uprisings.

But even in regions where democracies remain strong, authoritarians have been able to make a determined stand while their democratic neighbors passively stand by. Thus Hungary’s leaders, in the heart of an indifferent Europe, proclaim their love of illiberalism and crack down on press and political freedoms while the rest of the European Union, supposedly a club for democracies only, looks away. In South America, democracy is engaged in a contest with dictatorship, but an indifferent Brazil looks on, thinking only of trade and of North American imperialism. Meanwhile in Central America, next door to an indifferent Mexico, democracy collapses under the weight of drugs and crime and the resurgence of the caudillos. Yet it may be unfair to blame regional powers for not doing what they have never done. Insofar as the shift in the geopolitical equation has affected the fate of democracies worldwide, it is probably the change in the democratic superpower’s behavior that bears most of the responsibility.

If that superpower does not change its course, we are likely to see democracy around the world rolled back further. There is nothing inevitable about democracy. The liberal world order we have been living in these past decades was not bequeathed by “the Laws of Nature and of Nature’s God.” It is not the endpoint of human progress.

There are those who would prefer a world order different from the liberal one. Until now, however, they have not been able to have their way, but not because their ideas of governance are impossible to enact. Who is to say that Putinism in Russia or China’s particular brand of authoritarianism will not survive as far into the future as European democracy, which, after all, is less than a century old on most of the continent? Autocracy in Russia and China has certainly been around longer than any Western democracy. Indeed, it is autocracy, not democracy, that has been the norm in human history—only in recent decades have the democracies, led by the United States, had the power to shape the world.

Skeptics of U.S. “democracy promotion” have long argued that many of the places where the democratic experiment has been tried over the past few decades are not a natural fit for that form of government, and that the United States has tried to plant democracy in some very infertile soils. Given that democratic governments have taken deep root in widely varying circumstances, from impoverished India to “Confucian” East Asia to Islamic Indonesia, we ought to have some modesty about asserting where the soil is right or not right for democracy. Yet it should be clear that the prospects for democracy have been much better under the protection of a liberal world order, supported and defended by a democratic superpower or by a collection of democratic great powers. Today, as always, democracy is a fragile flower. It requires constant support, constant tending, and the plucking of weeds and fencing-off of the jungle that threaten it both from within and without. In the absence of such efforts, the jungle and the weeds may sooner or later come back to reclaim the land.

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[1] Quoted in Samuel P. Huntington, The Third Wave: Democratization in the Late Twentieth Century (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1991), 17.

[2] Quoted in John Keane, The Life and Death of Democracy (New York: W.W. Norton, 2009), 573.

[3] Huntington, Third Wave, 40.

[4] Huntington, Third Wave, 21.

[5] Samuel P. Huntington, “Will More Countries Become Democratic?” Political Science Quarterly 99 (Summer 1984): 193–218; quoted in Larry Diamond, The Spirit of Democracy: The Struggle to Build Free Societies Throughout the World (New York: Times Books, 2008), 10.

[6] Huntington, Third Wave, 47.

[7] Odd Arne Westad, The Global Cold War: Third World Interventions and the Making of Our Times (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 196.

[8] Diamond, Spirit of Democracy, 5.

[9] Huntington, Third Wave, 98.

[10] Diamond, Spirit of Democracy, 13.

[11] Mike Rapport, 1848: Year of Revolution (New York: Basic Books, 2009), 409.

[12] A.J.P. Taylor, The Course of German History: A Survey of the Development of German History Since 1815 (London: Routledge, 2001; orig. publ. 1945), 71.

[13] Rapport, 1848, 401–402.

[14] As Huntington paraphrased the findings of Jonathan Sunshine: “External influences in Europe before 1830 were fundamentally antidemocratic and hence held up democratization. Between 1830 and 1930 . . . the external environment was neutral . . . hence democratization proceeded in different countries more or less at the pace set by economic and social development.” Huntington, Third Wave, 86.

[15] As Huntington observed, “The absence of the United States from the process would have meant fewer and later transitions to democracy.” Huntington, Third Wave, 98.

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• Is Democracy in Decline? The Weight of Geopolitics

      

       

       

       

       

Before the international Urban Age conference in Berlin, Bruce Katz argued that if cities are the organizing units of the new global order, then a broad range of policies and practices at the city, national, and supra-national levels need to be reevaluated and overhauled around new spatial realities and paradigms.

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Just weeks ago, Germany formally relinquished its title as the world’s top exporter to China. For 2009, China reported that its exports totaled $1.2 trillion as compared to Germany’s $1.1 trillion. The U.S. lost this title in 2003, when Germany surpassed our exports. What a difference a decade makes.

Even on the heels of their success, Germany has been cringing at the prospect of China surpassing them in total dollars generated by annual exports. In 2005, on the floor of the German Parliament, the state secretary for the Ministry of Transportation argued that Germany’s role in trade will slip without strategic, intermodal interventions to improve the movement of trade. His words highlighted the growing concern over the country’s competitiveness and conveyed that it was the federal government’s role to focus more intensively on freight. “There was a growing sense that freight was increasingly crucial to the country,” shared Johannes Wieczorek, head of freight transport and logistics for the Federal Ministry for Transport. Backed by Chancellor Merkel, Parliament voted overwhelmingly to support the development of a national strategy to strengthen the country’s logistics and freight. Less than two years later, Germany devised a national strategy that integrated all transportation modes, such as rail, roads, and waterways to accelerate the movement of freight across all parts of the country.

None of this was a minor accomplishment. In short order, the national government developed a strategy involving important stakeholders such as state and local leaders, ports, businesses, and environmental groups. 

The freight strategy, while vague on many details, outlines over 30 actions that signal where the federal government is headed: to shift more freight onto rail and waterways; to strengthen logistical gateways (such as ports) with more federal infrastructure money; and to increase funding for combined transport.

Germany’s National Port Concept is just one of these actions. It is essentially a list of priority ports that are to receive federal infrastructure investment funds given their national importance as trade gateways. Modeled after a similar effort for airports, both ports and airports will now use quantitative data to justify transportation funding. This empirically-driven process replaces a highly political one where earmarks are essentially designated by those in power. While it will clearly define who are the winners and losers, the Port Concept has sharpened federal decisionmaking on how and where to use transportation dollars wisely. Today, priority ports and airports will receive funding to create the best and most direct connections to high-speed railways and highways.

We could learn a great deal from Germany’s determination and focus. Although China surpassed Germany, a trend that was impossible to stave off in the long run, Germany is now well positioned to make sure they remain at the top of the list of the world’s top exporters. While we are just waking up to the reality that we need to increase our exports, as President Obama emphasized in his State of the Union Address, we have serious work in first improving our freight infrastructure to move our goods. Just a few days ago, U.S. DOT announced TIGER grants--funds largely focused on freight and ports. While a promising start, these grants are just a drop in the bucket in light of the level of investment needed. We would be wise to follow Germany and devise a national strategy to guide how and where to maximize every dollar for freight.

      

       

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The geography of innovation is shifting and a new model for innovative growth is emerging. In contrast to suburban corridors of isolated corporate campuses, innovation districts combine research institutions, innovative firms and business incubators with the benefits of urban living. These districts have the unique potential to spur productive, sustainable, and inclusive economic development.  

On June 9, the Metropolitan Policy Program at Brookings released “The Rise of Innovation Districts,” a new report analyzing this trend. The authors of the paper, Brookings Vice President Bruce Katz and Nonresident Senior Fellow Julie Wagner, were joined by leaders from emerging innovation districts across the country to discuss this shift and provide guidance to U.S. metro areas on ways to harness its potential.

Join the conversation on Twitter using #InnovationDistricts

Presentation by Bruce Katz

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Bruce Katz, Vice President and Director, Metropolitan Policy Program

Lydia DePillis, John A. Fry, Nicole Fichera, Kofi Bonner, Julie Wagner

The Honorable Andy Berke, Mayor, City of Chattanooga, TN and Bruce Katz

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• What Are Innovation Districts?
• Innovation Districts Aligned With Disruptive Dynamics of Our Era
• Cities are For People
• Boston's District Hall a Living Room for Innovation Economy
• Innovation Happens Anywhere and Everywhere
• Are Innovation Districts Another Form of Gentrification?
• Philadelphia Behind but Competing in Innovation Districts
• Chattanooga Has Fastest, Cheapest Internet in Western Hemisphere
• We Live In an Innovation Century
• The Rise of Innovation Districts - Opening Remarks
• The Rise of Innovation Districts - Presentation by Bruce Katz
• The Rise of Innovation Districts - Panel Discussion
• The Rise of Innovation Districts - Moderated Dialogue

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• The Rise of Innovation Districts: A New Geography of Innovation in America

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Employers continued to boost payrolls in 2015, capping six straight years of job gains. It was the third year in a row in which employment gains topped 210,000 a month. In the 12 months ending in November, public and private payrolls increased 220,000 a month, or about 1.9 percent over the year. Virtually all the growth in payrolls was in the private sector, which added 212,000 jobs a month. The public sector added modestly to its payrolls last year, but the number of government employees remains more than one million (4.4 percent) below the peak level attained in 2010. 

Nearly all major industries except mining contributed to job gains in the past 12 months, though gains in manufacturing were weaker than in any year since the expansion began in 2010.  Payrolls in the mining industry tumbled more than 10 percent, hurt by a steep fall in oil and gas prices and the decline in exploration for new energy reserves. The construction industry continued to add to payrolls last year at about the same pace as in the previous two years, although the level of employment is still about 1.2 million (15 percent) below the peak level achieved in 2006.

Based on the age composition of the U.S. population, between 65,000-80,000 new jobs are needed every month to keep the unemployment rate from rising. Since late 2010, monthly payroll gains have comfortably exceeded this threshold. As a result, the jobless rate has declined steadily. In the 12 months through November 2015, the unemployment rate dropped another 0.8 percentage point, falling to 5.0 percent. The jobless rate is now within a half percentage point of its level immediately before the Great Recession. Since reaching a peak in the autumn of 2009, the unemployment rate has been cut in half.

We’ve also seen improvement in other indicators of job market distress in the past year. The number of Americans who want full-time jobs but have been forced to take part-time positions fell more than 11 percent in the 12 months through November 2015. About 9 million workers who wanted a full-time job were employed part-time in the middle of 2010. That number has fallen to about 6 million in recent months.  Similarly, the number of Americans in long spells of unemployment continues to shrink. Workers reporting they were unemployed 6 months or longer fell to 2.05 million in November, representing a considerable improvement since 2010. In that year, more than 6 million jobless workers reported they had been looking for work for at least a half a year.

The most welcome news for Americans who hold jobs is that inflation-adjusted wage levels improved last year.  Real average hourly earnings increased 1.8 percent between November 2014 and November 2015, and real weekly earnings climbed 1.6 percent.  These gains represent a considerable improvement compared with earlier years in the recovery, when real wage gains were negligible.  Nonetheless, nominal wage gains in 2015 were only slightly faster than they were in earlier years of the recovery. The reason for the startling turnaround in real wage growth is that consumer prices increased very little over the past year.  In the 12 months ending in November, the CPI edged up just 0.5 percent, almost a full percentage point more slowly than the average rate of consumer inflation in the previous three years.  The slowdown was driven by lower prices for energy and other key commodities.  (The “core” consumer inflation rate, which strips out the effects of price changes in energy and food, was 2.0 percent last year, a bit higher than the rate in the previous year.) 

Back when politicians and voters cared more about inflation than they currently do, Brookings economist Arthur Okun proposed an economic indicator called the “misery index” to summarize the dual hardships of inflation and unemployment. To measure economic misery Okun suggested adding the current unemployment rate and a measure of consumer price inflation.  In Chart 1 below I have added the civilian unemployment rate and the trailing 12-month percentage change in the CPI.  In the 11 months of 2012 through November, the misery index averaged just 5.4, its lowest level since the 1950s and well below its average levels in the 1990s (8.8) and in the period from 2000 to 2007 (7.8). When inflation is benign and has remained subdued for a long time, Americans may forget the pain they feel when price increases are frequent and large. Okun’s misery index fell to an exceptionally low level in 2015, even if a small majority of Americans continues to believe the economy is getting worse.

The good news in 2015 is that unemployment continued to fall and real wages began to rise.  The less welcome news is that key measures of labor force participation failed to improve.  For example, the labor force participation rate of Americans between 25 and 54 was the same in November 2015 as it was in November 2014. More worryingly, it was 2.1 percentage points below its level in November 2007, just before the Great Recession.  So far we have seen no rebound in participation among people in prime working ages, despite abundant signs that it’s easier to land a job. 

Low participation is the main explanation for depressed employment rates among prime-age Americans.  Participation rates are not only low in comparison to levels seen before the Great Recession, they are also now below those in other rich countries.  Charts 2 and 3 compare employment-to-population rates among 25-54 year-olds in seven OECD member countries (Canada, France, Germany, Japan, Sweden, the United Kingdom, and the United States).  The charts show employment rates separately for men and women in two different years, 2000 and 2014.  The countries are ranked, from left to right, by their employment rates in 2014. In 2000 the U.S. had the second highest male employment rate (Chart 2) and the second highest female employment rate (Chart 3) of the seven countries listed.  By 2014, the U.S. had the lowest male and female employment rates among the countries compared.  Although several nations saw declines in their prime-age male employment rate, only the U.S. also experienced a decline in its prime-age female employment rate.  The other six countries all saw increases in female employment.

The main reason for the drop in prime-age U.S. employment was the decline in prime-age participation. An enduring puzzle of the current recovery is the failure of participation rates to rebound, even in the face of steady improvement in the job market.

      

Social Security is the most popular legacy of Franklin Roosevelt's New Deal. Last year almost 60 million Americans received benefits from the program. Payments amounted to over $875 billion, nearly a quarter of all federal spending.  For more than two decades, most discussion of Social Security, at least in Washington, has centered on its funding shortfall. Contributions to the program are not high enough to pay for all benefits scheduled under current law. The Social Security Trust Fund is expected to be depleted around 2030. If Congress does not address the funding problem before reserves are exhausted, monthly payments will have to be cut about one-fifth.

Despite the projected shortfall, Democrats in Congress have begun to argue that Social Security benefits should be expanded rather than cut.  Senators Bernie Sanders and Brian Schatz have offered proposals to boost monthly pensions while at the same time shoring up Social Security finances through tax hikes on high-income Americans. 

That Democratic voters and lawmakers embrace these ideas is not surprising. But opinion polling suggests such reforms also enjoy broad support among self-identified independents and Republicans. For example, 57 percent of Republicans (versus 71 percent of Democrats) favor increasing cost-of-living adjustments in the benefit formula. Forty-eight percent of Republicans (versus 67 percent of Democrats) favor boosting the minimum benefit available to low-wage workers who have contributed for many years to the program.  Seventy-four percent of Republicans (versus 88 percent of Democrats) favor raising taxes in order to protect benefits. These polling numbers were obtained in 2013, but more recent polls show similar opinions. Even if debates among Washington insiders and GOP lawmakers focus on how to trim benefits in order to keep Social Security solvent, poll results suggest Senator Sanders holds views closer to those of the typical voter.

One question for both voters and policymakers is whether the aged population is really the most deserving target for additional government spending.  Much of the discussion of voter disaffection in the current election cycle has focused on the stagnation of middle class incomes and the rise in inequality.  While these represent major problems for families headed by a working-age person, they have not been notably troublesome for the nation’s elderly.  The incomes of the elderly, unlike those of the nonelderly, have increased steadily over the past three or four decades.  For low- and middle-income retirees, incomes have clearly improved. The same cannot be said for the incomes of low- and middle-income working-age families. Income inequality among the elderly has increased, to be sure, but much more slowly than among working-age families.

In new research with my colleagues Barry Bosworth and Kan Zhang, I have examined trends in real incomes and inequality among the nation’s elderly and compared them with the same trends in working-age families. We show that inequality has increased among both the elderly and nonelderly, but it has increased much faster among families headed by prime-age and younger adults than among families headed by someone past age 62.  More to the point, real money incomes have increased much faster among middle- and low-income aged families compared with middle- and low-income working-age families. 

Our estimates of the annual rate of change in real money income are displayed in the chart below. The changes are estimated over the period from 1979 to 2012 based on data reported in the Census Bureau’s annual income survey. The top panel shows changes in families with a head who is less than 62. The bottom panel shows changes in families with a head older than 62.  Each bar shows the annual rate of change in real income at the indicated position of the income distribution, either for nonaged families (in the top panel) or for aged families (in the bottom panel).  At the top of the two income distributions—that is, at the 98^th income percentile—real income gains are virtually the same in the two groups.  Further down the income ladder, the income gains differ noticeably, with bigger differences the further down we go.  Middle- and low-income working-age families have clearly fared much worse than families with an equivalent position in the old-age income distribution.

Estimates of income growth based solely on pre-tax cash incomes, such as the ones in the chart, almost certainly understate the improvement families have seen in their living standards, as I have argued elsewhere (here and here).  However, the understatement is bigger in the case of elderly and low-income Americans than it is for the nonelderly and affluent.  If we adjust family incomes to reflect the taxes families owe and the monetary value of their noncash benefits, the relative improvement in the standard of living of older Americans is even greater than is shown in the chart. Under almost any plausible income definition, the elderly have fared better than the nonelderly, especially at the bottom of the income distribution.

The income statistics do not prove the policy reforms urged by Congressional Democrats are unneeded or undesirable. Their proposals spring from an accurate reading of a long-term trend toward less pension coverage — ironically, a trend that has mainly affected working-age adults.  Whereas workers in the 1950s through the 1970s enjoyed continuous improvement in their access to employer-provided retirement benefits, the improvement ceased after 1980. Since that time, private-sector workers have seen reductions in the coverage and generosity of their employer-sponsored pensions. If the private sector voluntarily provides less retirement protection, it does not seem unreasonable to expect the government to provide more.

A crucial reason the nation’s elderly population fared better compared with the nonelderly after 1980 is that Social Security and Medicare provided them government protection that was far more generous (and more costly to taxpayers) than the protection available to working-age adults and their youngsters. The gap was especially glaring in the case of families headed by low-wage breadwinners, who have suffered sizeable reductions in pay and employment opportunities. In the years since 1980, their losses have been only modestly compensated through changes in the tax code and expansions of public health insurance.

Changes in the labor market make it important to protect future retirement benefits provided through Social Security. The same labor market developments make it even more urgent to expand the employment opportunities and improve the protections and work supports offered to working-age breadwinners.  In 2016, the weakening of future income protection for the aged is mostly theoretical. In contrast, the sinking fortunes of less skilled working-age adults are anything but theoretical. They are plain to anyone who can read Census and Bureau of Labor Statistics reports. If taxpayers can identify additional resources to pay for major new initiatives, my vote is for programs that improve the prospects of struggling wage earners. The equity arguments for such an initiative seem to me more persuasive than the case for an across-the-board benefit hike targeted on retirees.

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Editor's note: This piece originally appeared in Real Clear Markets. 

      

Ahead of Tuesday’s primary elections in Ohio, Florida and other states, the 2016 presidential candidates have been talking about the future of Social Security and its funding shortfalls.

Over the next two decades, the money flowing into Social Security will be too little to pay for all promised benefits. The reserve fund will be exhausted soon after 2030, and the only money available to pay for benefits will be from taxes earmarked for the program. Unless Congress and the President change the law before the reserve is depleted, monthly benefits will have to be cut about 21%.

Needless to say, office holders, who must face voters, are unlikely to allow such a cut. Before the Trust Fund is depleted, lawmakers will agree to some combination of revenue increase and future benefit reduction, eliminating the need for a sudden 21% pension cut. The question is: what combination of revenue increases and benefit cuts does each candidate favor?

The candidate offering the most straightforward but least credible answer is Donald Trump. During the GOP presidential debate last week, he pledged to do everything within his power to leave Social Security “the way it is.” He says he can do this by making the nation rich again, by eliminating budget deficits, and by ridding government programs of waste, fraud, and abuse. In other words, he proposed to do nothing specifically to improve Social Security’s finances. Should Trump’s deal-making fail to make us rich again, he offered no back-up plan for funding benefits after 2034.

The other three GOP candidates proposed to repair Social Security by cutting future pensions. No one in the debate, except U.S. Sen. Marco Rubio from Florida, mentioned a specific way to accomplish this. Rubio’s plan is to raise the age for full retirement benefits. For many years, the full retirement age was 65. In a reform passed in 1983, the retirement age was gradually raised to 66 for people nearing retirement today and to 67 for people born after 1960. Rubio proposes to raise the retirement age to 68 for people who are now in their mid-40s and to 70 for workers who are his children’s age (all currently under 18 years old).

In his campaign literature, Rubio also proposes slowing the future rate of increase in monthly pensions for high-income seniors. However, by increasing the full retirement age, Rubio’s plan will cut monthly pensions for any worker who claims benefits at 62 years old. This is the earliest age at which workers can claim a reduced pension. Also, it is by far the most common age at which low-income seniors claim benefits. Recent research suggests that low-income workers have not shared the gains in life expectancy enjoyed by middle- and especially high-income workers, so Rubio’s proposed cut could seriously harm many low-income workers.

Though he didn’t advertise it in the debate, Sen. Ted Cruz favors raising the normal retirement age and trimming the annual cost-of-living adjustment in Social Security. In the long run, the latter reform will disproportionately cut the monthly pensions of the longest-living seniors. Many people, including me, think this is a questionable plan, because the oldest retirees are also the most likely to have used up their non-Social-Security savings. Finally, Cruz favors allowing workers to fund personal-account pensions with part of their Social Security contributions. Although the details of his plan are murky, if it is designed like earlier GOP privatization plans, it will have the effect of depriving Social Security of needed future revenues, making the funding gap even bigger than it is today.

The most revolutionary part of Cruz’s plan is his proposal to eliminate the payroll tax. For many decades, this has been the main source of Social Security revenue. Presumably, Cruz plans to fund pensions out of revenue from his proposed 10% flat tax and 16% value-added tax (VAT). This would represent a revolutionary change because up to now, Social Security has been largely financed out of its own dedicated revenue stream. By eliminating the independent funding stream, Cruz will sever the perceived link between workers’ contributions and the benefits they ultimately receive. Most observers agree with Franklin Roosevelt that the strong link between contributions and benefits is a vital source of the enduring popularity of the program. Social Security is an earned benefit for retirees rather than a welfare check.

Gov. John Kasich does not propose to boost the retirement age, but he does suggest slowing the growth in future pensions by linking workers’ initial pensions to price changes instead of wage changes. He hints he will impose a means test in calculating pensions, reducing the monthly pensions payable to retirees who have high current incomes. Many students of Social Security think this a bad idea, because it can discourage workers from saving for retirement.

All of the Republican candidates, except Trump, think Social Security’s salvation lies in lower benefit payouts. Nobody mentions higher contributions as part of the solution. In contrast, both Democratic candidates propose raising payroll or other taxes on workers who have incomes above the maximum earnings now subject to Social Security contributions. This reform enjoys broad support among voters, most of whom do not expect to pay higher taxes if the income limit on contributions is lifted. Sen. Bernie Sanders would immediately spend some of the extra revenue on benefit increases for current beneficiaries, but his proposed tax hike on high-income contributors would raise enough money to postpone the year of Trust Fund depletion by about 40 years. Hillary Clinton is less specific about the tax increases and benefit improvements she favors. Like Sanders, however, she would vigorously oppose benefit cuts.

None of the candidates has given us a detailed plan to eliminate Social Security’s funding imbalance. At this stage, it’s not obvious such a plan would be helpful, since the legislative debate to overhaul Social Security won’t begin anytime soon. Sanders has provided the most details about his policy intentions, but his actual plan is unlikely to receive much Congressional support without a massive political realignment. Cruz’s proposal, which calls for eliminating the Social Security payroll tax, also seems far outside the range of the politically feasible.

What we have learned from the GOP presidential debates so far is that Republican candidates, with the exception of Trump, favor balancing Social Security through future benefit cuts, possibly targeted on higher income workers, while Democratic candidates want to protect current benefit promises and will do so with tax hikes on high-income workers. There is no overlap in the two parties’ proposals, and this accounts for Washington’s failure to close Social Security’s funding gap.

Editor’s note: This piece originally appeared in Fortune.

       

The past few months have seen a flurry of reports on discouraging trends in life expectancy among some of the nation’s struggling populations. Different researchers have emphasized different groups and have tracked longevity trends over different time spans, but all have documented conspicuous differences between trends among more advantaged Americans compared with those in worse circumstances.

In a study published in April, Stanford economist Raj Chetty and his coauthors documented a striking rise in mortality rate differences between rich and poor. From 2001 to 2014, Americans who had incomes in the top 5 percent of the income distribution saw their life expectancy climb about 3 years. During the same 14-year span, people in the bottom 5 percent of the income distribution saw virtually no improvement at all.

Using different sources of information about family income and mortality, my colleagues and I found similar trends in mortality when Americans were ranked by their Social-Security-covered earnings in the middle of their careers. Over the three decades covered by our data, we found sizeable differences between the life expectancy gains enjoyed by high- and low-income Americans. For 50-year old women in the top one-tenth of the income distribution, we found that women born in 1940 could expect to live almost 6.5 years longer than women in the same position in the income distribution who were born in 1920. For 50-year old women in the bottom one-tenth of the income distribution, we found no improvement at all in life expectancy. Longevity trends among low-income men were more encouraging: Men at the bottom saw a small improvement in their life expectancy. Still, the life-expectancy gap between low-income and high-income men increased just as fast as it did between low- and high-income women.

One reason these studies should interest voters and policymakers is that they shed light on the fairness of programs that protect Americans’ living standards in old age. The new studies as well as some earlier ones show that mortality trends have tilted the returns that rich and poor contributors to Social Security can expect to obtain from their payroll tax contributions.

If life expectancy were the same for rich and poor contributors, the lifetime benefits workers could expect to receive from their contributions would depend solely on the formula that determines a worker’s monthly pensions. Social Security’s monthly benefit formula has always been heavily tilted in favor of low-wage contributors. They receive monthly checks that are a high percentage of the monthly wages they earn during their careers. In contrast, workers who earn well above-average wages collect monthly pensions that are a much lower percentage of their average career earnings.

The latest research findings suggest that growing mortality differences between rich and poor are partly or fully offsetting the redistributive tilt in Social Security’s benefit formula. Even though poorer workers still receive monthly pension checks that are a high percentage of their average career earnings, they can expect to receive benefits for a shorter period after they claim pensions compared with workers who earn higher wages. Because the gap between the life spans of rich and poor workers is increasing, affluent workers now enjoy a bigger advantage in the number of months they collect Social Security retirement benefits. This fact alone is enough to justify headlines about the growing life expectancy gap between rich and poor

There is another reason to pay attention to the longevity trends. The past 35 years have provided ample evidence the income gap between America’s rich and poor has widened. To be sure, some of the most widely cited income series overstate the extent of widening and understate the improvement in income received by middle- and low-income families. Nonetheless, the most reliable statistics show that families at the top have enjoyed faster income gains than the gains enjoyed by families in the middle and at the bottom. Income disparities have gone up fastest among working-age people who depend on wages to pay their families’ bills. Retirees have been better protected against the income and wealth losses that have hurt the living standards of less educated workers. The recent finding that life expectancy among low-income Americans has failed to improve is a compelling reason to believe the trend toward wider inequality is having profound impacts on the distribution of well-being in addition to its direct effect on family income.

Over the past century, we have become accustomed to seeing successive generations live longer than the generations that preceded them. This is not true every year, of course, nor is it always clear why the improvements in life expectancy have occurred. Still, it is reasonable to think that long-run improvements in average life spans have been linked to improvements in our income. With more money, we can afford more costly medical care, healthier diets, and better public health. Even Americans at the bottom of the income ladder have participated in these gains, as public health measures and broader access to health insurance permit them to benefit from improvements in knowledge. For the past three decades, however, improvements in average life spans at the bottom of the income distribution have been negligible. This finding suggests it is not just income that has grown starkly more unequal.

Editor's note: This piece originally appeared in Real Clear Markets.

       

No. We should exempt workers earning the lowest wages.

Social Security faces a serious funding problem. The program takes in too little money to pay all that has been promised to future beneficiaries. Government forecasters predict Social Security’s reserve fund will be depleted between 2030 and 2034. There are two basic ways we can eliminate the funding gap: cut benefits or increase contributions. A common proposal is to increase the age at which workers can claim full retirement benefits. For people nearing retirement today, the full retirement age is 66. As a result of a 1983 law, that age will rise to 67 for workers born after 1959.

When policymakers urge us to raise the retirement age, they are proposing to increase the full retirement age beyond 67, possibly to 70, for workers now in their 30s or 40s. This saves money, but it also cuts monthly retirement benefits by the same percentage for every worker, unless workers delay claiming benefits. The policy might seem fair if workers in future generations could all expect to share in gains in life expectancy. However, new research shows that gains in life expectancy have been very unequal, with the biggest improvements among workers who earn top incomes. Life expectancy gains for workers with the lowest incomes have been small or negligible.

If the full retirement age were raised, future retirees with high lifetime earnings can expect to receive some compensation when their monthly benefits are cut. Because they can expect to live longer than today’s retirees, they will receive benefits for a longer span of years after 65. For low-wage workers, there is no compensation. Since they are not living longer, their lifetime benefits will fall by the same proportion as their monthly benefits. Thus, “raising the retirement age” is a policy that cuts the lifetime benefits of future low-wage workers by a bigger percentage than it does of future high-wage workers.

The fact that low-wage workers have seen small or negligible gains in life expectancy signals that their health when they are past 60 is no better than that of low-wage workers born 20 or 30 years ago. This suggests their capacity to work past 60 is no better than it was for past generations. A sensible policy for cutting future benefits should therefore preserve current benefit levels for workers who have contributed to Social Security for many years but have earned low wages.

Editor's note: This piece originally appeared in CQ Researcher.

       

Jamie Dimon, chief executive of JP Morgan Chase, this week announced a raise for his bank’s lowest pay employees. The company’s worst paid workers currently earn $10.15 an hour. By next February their pay will increase to at least $12 an hour, a jump of 18 percent. Dimon’s announcement follows widely reported wage hikes at Starbucks, Target, Walmart and other employers with sizeable numbers of low-pay workers.

These pay hikes signal further tightening in the nation’s job markets, including the market for low-wage workers. The drop in the unemployment rate below 5 percent has made it harder for employers to fill job vacancies, putting pressure on them to boost pay, both to attract new workers and to retain the ones already on their payrolls. Although highly compensated men have obtained the biggest pay increases in recent years, men and women earning bottom-end pay have fared better in the past year compared with workers in the middle of the earnings distribution.

The good news on the wage front tells us two things. First, the tightening of the job market is finally translating into gains for ordinary workers. More workers who want jobs are finding them. And adults who’ve managed to hang on to jobs are now enjoying faster growth in paychecks. Between 2011 and 2014, hourly pay gains averaged a little less than 2.0 percent a year. Since the end of 2014 they’ve averaged about 2.5 percent. The improvement in nominal pay gains has been magnified by exceptionally slow consumer price inflation. In the two years ending in May, real hourly pay has climbed 1.9 percent a year.

Second, the recent tilt in pay gains in favor of low wage workers shows that increases in the legal minimum wage can have an impact. Even though the federal minimum wage has remained at $7.25 an hour for the past seven years, 29 states have minimum wages above that level; 11 have a minimum equal to or greater than $9.00 an hour. Not surprisingly, low-wage workers in states that have recently raised minimum wages have seen faster gains than those in states that have left minimums unchanged. Since a growing number of states and localities are boosting minimum wage levels, this trend toward faster pay gains at the bottom may continue for a while.

The recovery from the Great Recession has been slow and disappointing, but it has been lengthy. One indicator that has been slowest to recover is wages. At long last wages are climbing, both in the middle and at the bottom of the pay scale.

       

       

       

The support for Bernie Sanders among young people has stirred a debate about the merits of the American style of a market economy versus the European version, and particularly the Nordic version of capitalism seen in Denmark.

Of course, the chances that Sanders will actually become president are remote and the chances of his enacting his program, if he were to become president, are even more remote. Still, the debate is an interesting one. David Brooks (writing in his New York Times column February 12, 2016) says that Denmark and similar economies in Europe are stagnant and lack the dynamism of America. Sanders’ supporters wrote in response, pointing to the strengths of Denmark: the absence of extreme poverty, the guaranty of good quality health care, and the availability of free college education.

Denmark gets a lot of things right. It provides universal health care of high quality at only a fraction of the cost of the U.S. system. Health outcomes are at least as good as in the United States with Danish wait-times similar to those we have here and infant mortality much lower. Denmark also does well in its primary and secondary education and in its labor market programs. They use tough love on those who are out of work, providing generous income support and training, but if they do not find a job or accept one that is found for them, the unemployed lose their benefits. The Danish “flexicurity” system is much admired because it combines a flexible labor market with income security. People are not guaranteed to keep the job they are in, but they are pretty much guaranteed that they can have a job.

Brooks is correct in pointing to the negative impact of very high tax rates on work. In the Nordic economies and in Germany, the employment rate is high but people work a lot fewer hours than workers in the U.S. On average, employed workers work 1,788 hours a year in the U.S. and only 1,438 in Denmark, and even less in Germany at 1,363, according to the OECD. Of course the Europeans are choosing to work shorter hours, but that choice is made in the face of very high taxes. Consider a busy professional couple in Denmark who want a renovation done to their home. They take home only a fraction of their salary after paying taxes and then they pay a plumber or an electrician to work on their house, and each of these tradespeople gets to keep only a fraction of what they charge for their services. The couple may find it is better to forget about the renovation, or hire people off the books to avoid the prohibitive double taxation.

In terms of innovation, Europe does not have the equivalent of Silicon Valley or the innovation hubs around Cambridge, Massachusetts, or the National Institutes of Health in Maryland. These creative centers generate innovations made in the U.S. that spread around the world and benefit everyone. Denmark is too small to sustain such centers by itself, but the problem extends to Europe more broadly, where policymakers struggle to match American innovation. Brooks is also correct about the danger of universal free college education. Those who graduate from four-year colleges will usually be in the upper half of the income distribution and should not expect to get a free ride from taxpayers who are making far less themselves. At the same time, creating broad financial support to allow children from low-income families to attend college while avoiding crippling debts is absolutely the right policy.

The U.S. is an exceptional country with a dynamic and successful economy. Europe would profit from copying the innovation culture of America. American capital markets, notwithstanding the financial crisis, are much more efficient than those in Europe and offer financial support and mentoring to start-up companies. Going the other way, America could learn about ways to retrain workers and avoid the desperate poverty that afflicts too many of our citizens. We could learn about the benefits of negotiating for lower prices from doctors, hospitals and drug companies. Whoever wins the White House should be secure in their belief about America’s strengths and vitality, while admitting that we can learn from what other countries do well.

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Editor's note: This piece originally appeared in Inside Sources.