A society intent on giving caring attention to its young children would, in addition, acknowledge that parenting isn’t just a private role but also an important social responsibility. Any parent who decided to remain at home with a child under the age of three would be eligible for financial support equaling half the nation’s median income. Such support could come in the form of a refundable tax credit.
Reverse the sorting mechanism.
The sorting mechanism is at its most pernicious when it comes to schools, whose quality now largely depends on the incomes of the families residing in the school district. Because families are sorting by income into different townships, and because about half of school funding still comes from local property taxes, families whose children are most at risk of failing in the new economy cannot afford the schools they most need. A society intent on reaping the advantages of economic dynamism while minimizing its social injustices would shift school financing away from local property taxes. One option would be to replace local property taxes by a national education trust fund, financed by a small tax on the net worth of all citizens.
School vouchers might improve the quality of schools, but we would need to guard against the possibility that the poorest children with the biggest learning or behavioral problems would get sorted together into the least desirable schools. One way to avoid this would be to make the size of the voucher proportional to family needs. Children from the very poorest families would have the largest and most valuable vouchers, thereby making the children sufficiently attractive for good schools to want to compete for them.
A way to break up high concentrations of poverty would be to give all poor families housing-assistance vouchers, enabling them to afford homes in higher-income communities. Preliminary evidence suggests that poor children of families who have the opportunity to move to higher-income neighborhoods do better than the children who remain behind in the poor ones.
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In addition, we could require that housing developers include in their plans for upscale communities a certain proportion of low-income residences. “Inclusionary zoning” like this has met with considerable success in specific places around the nation. And we could bar private insurers from imposing higher-risk premiums on people because of where they live, what they earn, or their genetic makeup.
We could seek many other opportunities for different communities of race, income, and age to interact with one another. In fact, such bridging could become an overarching goal of community-based nonprofit organizations. Faith-based institutions would seem uniquely qualified to reach across such divides. Universities could link up with poor high schools and grammar schools in their region; their undergraduates could tutor in such schools, university faculty could teach occasional classes and keep the faculties of the schools apprised of new research, and promising high-school seniors could be given university scholarships.
P
ROPOSALS
such as these are points of departure rather than a full agenda of reform. They are merely a sampling of what might be done, fodder for debate about what should be done. The basic idea common to all of them is this: Rather than preserve and protect the old, or go to the opposite extreme and let rip with the new, a balanced society would ease the economic transitions and bring most of its people along, so that citizens’ lives could be materially better, more cohesive and equitable, and psychologically saner. Although this path won’t be paved cheaply, a dynamic economy can well afford the cost; and I believe the cost is worth accepting for the sake of social and personal tranquillity.
Some will argue that the better-off members of society should not be required to foot most of the bill for initiatives like these, and that they will refuse to do so if they are asked. In a pinch, they’ll move themselves and their personal fortunes to the Netherlands Antilles, or to any other comfortable retreat around the world. But I think this view is far too cynical. The sorting mechanism is a powerful force, to be sure, but the vast majority of better-off citizens feel allegiance to their society, and want to keep it from becoming further fractured and stratified. In fact, the sorting mechanism may itself have discouraged some people from taking a more active role, since any singular sacrifice on their part—say, moving into a poorer community than they could afford to live in, or sending their children to one of its schools—would impose a larger burden on them than would be the case if richer and poorer were better mingled to begin with.
Sorting may also have blinded the better-off to the conditions in which the less fortunate actually live, allowing the better off to pretend that almost everyone else is “like them.” Reversing the sorting mechanism would help restore a sense of common ground. In addition, the better off will be more willing to contribute if they understand that the likely alternative is an eventual backlash against economic dynamism—including trade protections and neo-Luddite controls on technology—that will be far more costly to them in the long run. A yawning gap between rich and poor threatens the peace and stability of society, including its better-off members. Finally, it seems likely that some of the better off would prefer more economic security in their own lives, and a lower risk that they or their families might suddenly lose economic ground.
THE THREE CONVERSATIONS
We stand at the precipice of a new era. The economic and technological forces that have been building for more than two decades are about to crest, and thereby change our personal and social lives even more profoundly than they have been affected so far. There is no turning back to the old jobs and the old securities, to the old families and the old communities. So where do we turn? We delight in the terrific deals of the new economy. We stand in awe of its technological prowess. We are dazzled by the instant opportunities it presents for vast wealth. Yet where is the moral anchor? To what do we attach ourselves, our loyalties and our passions? Where do our friends, families, and communities come in? In what do we invest our integrity? How, in the end, shall we measure success—our own, as well as our society’s?
The measure of a successful life surely goes beyond what we can acquire or the extent of our net worth; the test of a successful society extends beyond its gross national product. Success depends on our spiritual grounding, the richness of our relationships, the sturdiness of our families, and the character of our communities. Yet most of us are racing into this new era with remarkable insouciance—blindness, perhaps—toward what it means for our lives beyond our roles as consumers and investors.
Rather than debate the larger trade-offs, we’re engaged in at least three separate conversations. The first is a breathlessly enthusiastic one, about the wonders of the new economy. That economy’s terrific deals are very real, and will vastly improve those aspects of our lives that can be enhanced by what we buy. In a few years, through broadband and wireless Internet connections, as well as advances in molecular and genetic research, today’s terrific deals will be overshadowed by even better ones. Many products and services will be cheaper, faster, more powerful. Some will enable us to live longer, or be more readily entertained, invigorated, stimulated, and interconnected. The dizzying exuberance of the new economy is justified. But the terrific deals alone don’t prove that the price we pay for them with the rest of our lives is worth it.
The second conversation is a fearful one, about the dangers and depredations of unfettered capitalism, the power or greed of global corporations and international finance, and, sometimes, the encroachments of immigrants, foreigners, and ethnic minorities. These concerns can be heard with increasing vehemence on both the left and the right of the political spectrum, in America and elsewhere around the world. Given the scale of the dislocations wrought by the new economy—dislocations and upheavals that are only beginning—it’s entirely understandable that many people will be afraid or disoriented and many others will feel unfairly burdened. For several decades, factory workers in advanced economies have experienced job loss and declining incomes. What happens when many salaried, professional, and service workers experience the same things? But this fearful conversation misplaces the blame. It assumes that the cause of the upheavals lies in corporations, globalization, international capital flows, or in the flows of immigrants and ethnic minorities. It thereby confuses causes with consequences. Corporations, capital flows, and immigrants are responding to the widening range of choice open to consumers and investors around the world, the increasing ease by which all can switch to better deals, and the intensifying competition that results. Some of those who complain loudest are simultaneously reaping great benefits from the new economy.
The third conversation is a private one, about the difficulties of achieving a balanced life in this new era. As we work harder and sell ourselves more intensely, and as we adopt the market-directed (have the “Courage to Be Rich”!) ethos of our age, many of us are anxious about what’s becoming of our families, our friendships, our broader communities, and even our innermost selves. Yet we tend to view this unease in solely personal terms. To the extent that we feel we’re failing in one domain or the other, we blame ourselves for being “inadequate” parents, spouses, workers, friends, or citizens. We thus overlook the larger forces that are making all such personal attempts to achieve “better balance” more difficult or complicated.
These three separate conversations are different responses to the same set of phenomena. Some of us might even be engaged in all three conversations simultaneously without seeing the connections between them. We may delight in the terrific deals we can obtain, while we also fret about what seem like encroachments by global corporations, trade, and immigrants, and at the same time worry about the personal demands our work is exacting from the rest of our lives. But if we are to deal effectively with the larger trade-off before us, we must understand the connections between these three conversations.
It is time for a larger discussion about what combination of economic dynamism and social tranquillity we want for ourselves, our families, and our society; and about the public choices we need to make in order to achieve this balance. What is the proper measure of success in the Age of the Terrific Deal? The new economy confers vast benefits, but it also generates social dislocations and personal stresses. All are intensifying. We will shortly be presented with vastly better deals and greater opportunities. Yet we, and every society, will have to cope with a much greater degree of social upheaval, and to struggle more arduously with the escalating demands of work on the rest of our lives.
This cannot be—it must not be—solely an economic conversation. It is more fundamentally a moral one. We are not mere instruments of the new economy. We are not slaves to its technological trends. And we should not misdirect the blame for its less desirable, more worrisome consequences. As citizens, we have the power to arrange the new economy to suit our needs, and in so doing to determine the shape of our emerging civilization. Every society has the capacity—indeed, the obligation—to make these choices. Markets are structured by them. Families and communities function according to them. Individuals balance their lives within them. It is through such decisions that a society defines itself. The choices will be made, somehow. They cannot be avoided. The question is whether we make the most important of these choices together, in the open, or grapple with them alone and in the dark.
NOTES
INTRODUCTION
ONE: THE AGE OF THE TERRIFIC DEAL
TWO: THE SPIRIT OF INNOVATION
The rise of industrial standards and the importance of standards for spurring innovation during the first decades of the twentieth century have not received the attention they deserve. The best discussions I’ve found are in Robert H. Wiebe,
The Search for Order 1877–1920
(New York: Hill and Wang, 1967); Louis Galambos and Joseph Pratt,
The Rise of the Corporate Commonwealth
(New York: Basic Books, 1988); and Ellis W. Hawley,
The New Deal and the Problem of Monopoly
(Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1966).
THREE: OF GEEKS AND SHRINKS
FOUR: THE OBSOLESCENCE OF LOYALTY