When one of my sons does something unexpected, I like to joke: “Who are you and what have you done with my son?” After reading Elizabeth Warren’s three books on politics, I had the same question about her.
The
first, The Two-Income Trap (TT) in 2003,
is moderate or even conservative. Some of her arguments on public policy consequences
are so well-reasoned that it brings a tear to an economist’s eye. But really, the
book is what you’d expect from an academic—thorough work, thoughtful analysis, and
careful conclusions.
Warren’s
thesis: when financial troubles come, life often falls apart—even for two-income
families who “play by the rules”. Higher household incomes could have meant
more savings and less risk. But household spending increased as well. With both
parents working, a family has less flexibility—thus, “the two-income trap”.
Warren
notes that most of the increased spending came from housing. And she rightly
saw a connection between housing prices, K-12 school quality, and neighborhood safety.
This led her to advocate greatly expanded school choice—vouchers, charters, and
so on—to break the link between housing and schools.
The
policy prescriptions in TT are mild, compared with her later books and her
proposals today. This stemmed from her understanding of how subsidies distort
markets and inflate prices: “America simply cannot afford mass subsidies for
its middle class to buy housing. Besides, direct subsidies are likely to add
more ammunition to the already ruinous bidding wars, ultimately driving home
prices even higher.”
She
made similar arguments to criticize subsidies for day care. But her analysis
and prescriptions were not always impressive. She complains about inflation in
higher education without noting the impact of its massive subsidies. And her level
of trust toward consumers, particularly the poor and certain minority groups,
is not very high.
Unfortunately,
the impressive things about Warren went out the proverbial window when she became
a politician. It’s easy to see when you compare TT to her other two political books:
A Fighting Chance (FC) in 2014 and This Fight Is our Fight (FF) in 2017. Both
move toward rhetoric, biography, and boilerplate—and away from careful
analysis.
New
policy preferences emerge which look like a crass grab for political power. And
beyond grand plans that can’t possibly be financed through wealth and income taxes,
Warren’s avid embrace of wide-ranging and extensive subsidies—for college, student
loan forgiveness, child care, and health care—makes no sense and has no
apparent cause.
So,
here’s the most amazing story in Warren’s books: Her research on bankruptcy
leads to political influence. She gets the opportunity to meet with First Lady
Hillary Clinton and argue against a bill penned by industry lobbyists. Congress
and President Bill Clinton support the law. But Elizabeth persuades Hillary—who
persuades Bill to veto the bill.
But
here’s the kicker: The bill is reintroduced in Congress the next Spring. “This
time, freshman Senator Hillary Clinton voted in favor of the bill…The bill was
essentially the same but Hillary Rodham Clinton was not…Her husband was a lame
duck at the time he vetoed the bill; he could afford to forgo future campaign
contributions. As New York’s newest senator, however, it seems that Hillary
Clinton could not afford such a principled position.” Ouch!
Eleven
years later, Warren tells the story again in FC. This time, she shares
Hillary’s role in persuading Bill to veto the bill, but does not mention
Hillary’s affirmative vote in 2001. Of course, Warren’s redacted re-telling is
a smart political move. But it is also indicative of her emergence as a
political animal in her own right.
Her
flips on public policy are staggering enough—from one who knew better and
opposed to someone who pretended not to know better and supported. The
hypocrisy is even worse because she crushed Hillary for the exact same move—and
Warren’s own sins in this regard are far worse.
So,
what happened to Elizabeth? I heard Rod Dreher speak at the 2019 Touchstone
Conference on “The Benedict Option”. Dreher had been a devoted Catholic, but
“lost his faith” as he investigated the Catholic sexual abuse scandal for The New York Times. He started to obsess
on the important work he was doing. He began to imagine that he was
indispensible. He didn’t take steps to ground his work in something greater. In
Christian terms, “the good fight” became an idol—and idols always fail.
When
Dreher used the term “fight” to describe his crusade, it immediately brought
Warren’s last two books to mind—with “fight” in both titles and “fighting” as her
most prominent metaphor to paint her own efforts. My best guess—and I think,
the most gracious interpretation of her hypocritical flips—is that she has
traveled a similar path to Dreher.
Hopefully,
Warren will not get to enforce her preferred version of society and her
hypocrisies on others. And as Dreher eventually learned, hopefully Warren will
find that there are things much more important than “the fight”. When the ends
justify the means, it’s never ultimately good for those who misunderstand—or
those they try to influence and control.
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