Fixing the debt ceiling with a trillion dollar platinum coin

Make a silly demand, get a silly concession.

It's always interesting seeing an idea whose time has come, and today's seems to be the "platinum coin option" for the US.

America will, in two months, hit the debt ceiling. Again. The federal government will be denied, by law, the money it has been ordered to spend, by law. The three options facing it, in conventional wisdom, are a total government shut-down, a default on its loans, or the raising of the ceiling.

Since the first two are, frankly, unthinkable, the last is the only thing the administration can do. The Republicans know this, and are prepared to leverage their image as an unhinged party which would metaphorically kill the hostages to gain policy concessions.

But there is actually a fourth option. It's leveraging a quirk in the laws of the nation, but it is, by any reading of those laws, entirely legal. United States law says:

31 USC § 5112 (k) The Secretary [of the Treasury] may mint and issue platinum bullion coins and proof platinum coins in accordance with such specifications, designs, varieties, quantities, denominations, and inscriptions as the Secretary, in the Secretary’s discretion, may prescribe from time to time.

That is: at any time, the Treasury Secretary – Tim Geithner – can mint platinum coins in any denomination.

The other important aspect is how government spending is actually accounted for. The Treasury has a "bank account" at the Federal Reserve. When it pays someone, it's the Fed which hands the money over. When it needs money to put in that bank, it sells bonds at auction.

The debt ceiling is, in that simple version of the story, basically a ban on the Treasury selling any more bonds. As a result, it's bank account will run dry, and all hell will break loose.

But if Geithner mints a trillion dollar platinum coin, he can just waltz over to the Fed, deposit that, and the government's ability to spend is restored.

The plan sounds too good to be true, but it's really not. Joe Weisenthal has a bumper post debunking the biggest myths about it, but the trick to understanding it is to think of it as a legal, not monetary, trick. In terms of the real economy – outside of strange intragovernmental transfers designed to get around bizarre anachronistic limits – nothing has changed. The state is still taking money in through borrowing and taxing, and still putting money out through spending. It's just some of the borrowing is transferred from the Treasury, which does it under the authority it has to raise the national debt, to the Federal Reserve, which does it under the authority it has to borrow against assets it holds. Like, for instance, a trillion dollar coin.

This plan has been knocking around for years, now. It was first suggested during the last showdown, in 2011, by Pragmatic Capitalist's Cullen Roche. Weisenthal jumped on board, and then slowly so did others.

But in the last couple of days, there has been a White House petition calling for the President to do it, discussions in Congress, Paul Krugman mulling over the idea and a Huffington Post front page on it.

But the best argument has been Josh Barro's in Bloomberg. Barrow takes the legal quirks of the situation, and applies them to a political analysis. After all, although the President has the power to do it, doesn't mean it wouldn't be extremely politically damaging to actually go ahead with it. Barro's solution:

Hitting the debt ceiling isn't an option. It's no way to run the country, and Republicans know that. So, a debt-ceiling increase shouldn't count as a "concession," and it's nutty for Obama to have to give substantive policy ground to get one.

Monetizing deficits through direct presidential control of the currency, in lieu of borrowing, is also no way to run a country. It's silly, and it's perfectly legal. Agreeing not to do so is therefore the ideal "concession" for Obama to offer in return for Republicans agreeing to end the threat of a debt-default crisis.

Make a silly demand, get a silly concession. Perfect!

A non-platinum, single dollar coin. Photograph: Getty Images

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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The Tories' aim is to put Labour out of business for good

Rather than merely winning again, the Conservatives are seeking to inflict permanent damage on the opposition. 

The Conservatives are numerically weak but politically strong – that is the peculiarity of their position. Their majority is the smallest of any single-party government since October 1974. Yet, to MPs at the Tory conference in Manchester, it felt like “2001 in reverse”: the year of Tony Blair’s second election victory. Then, as now, the opposition responded to defeat by selecting a leader, Iain Duncan Smith, who was immediately derided as unelectable. Just as Labour knew then that it would win in 2005, so the Conservatives believe that they have been gifted victory in 2020. David Cameron has predicted that the party’s vote share could rise from 37 per cent to a Thatcherite 43 per cent.

For Cameron and George Osborne, who entered parliament in 2001, this moment is revenge for New Labour’s electoral hegemony. They believe that by applying Blair’s lessons better than his internal successors, they can emulate his achievements. The former Labour prime minister once spoke of his party as “the political wing of the British people”. In Manchester, Cameron and Osborne displayed similarly imperial ambitions. They regard Jeremy Corbyn’s election as a chance to realign the political landscape permanently.

Seen from one perspective, the Tories underperformed on 7 May. They consistently led by roughly 20 points on the defining issues of the economy and leadership but defeated Labour by just 6.5 overall. It was their enduring reputation as the party of the plutocracy that produced this disparity. Those who voted for Labour in spite of their doubts about Ed Miliband and the party’s economic competence may not be similarly forgiving of Corbyn. To maximise their gains, however, the Tories need to minimise their weaknesses, rather than merely exploit Labour’s.

This process began at conference. At a dinner organised by the modernising group the Good Right, Duncan Smith, Michael Gove and the Scottish Tory leader, Ruth Davidson, affirmed their belief that, contrary to Thatcherite orthodoxy, inequality is a problem. Only the Business Secretary, Sajid Javid, an admirer of the libertarian heroine Ayn Rand, insisted that equality of opportunity was the defining metric.

George Osborne’s assured speech was most notable for his sustained appeal to Labour voters. Several opposition MPs told me how unsettled they were by the Chancellor’s declaration that Labour’s new leadership calls “anyone who believes in strong national defence, a market economy and the country living within its means” a Tory. He added, “It’s our job to make sure they’re absolutely right. Because we’re now the party of work, the only true party of labour.” The shadow minister Jonathan Reynolds told me: “We’ve got to be extremely clear that this is not business as usual. This is a real attempt by the Tories to put us out of business – possibly for ever.”

The Conservatives’ aim is to contaminate Labour to the point where, even if Jeremy Corbyn were deposed, the toxin would endure. For those opposition MPs who emphasise being a government-in-waiting, rather than a protest movement, the contrast between the high politics of the Tory conference and Corbyn’s rally appearance in Manchester was painfully sharp. They fear guilt by association with the demonstrators who spat at and abused journalists and Tory delegates. The declaration by a rally speaker, Terry Pullinger, the deputy general secretary of the Communication Workers Union, that Corbyn’s election “almost makes you want to celebrate the fact that Labour lost” was regarded as confirmation that some on the left merely desire to run the party, not the country.

But few Tory MPs I spoke to greeted Corbyn’s victory with simple jubilation. “It’s a great shame, what’s happened to Labour,” one said. “We need a credible opposition.” In the absence of this, some fear the Conservatives’ self-destructive tendencies will reassert themselves. The forthcoming EU referendum and leadership contest are rich in cannibalistic potential. Tories spoke forebodingly of the inevitable schism between European Inners and Outers. As the Scottish experience demonstrated, referendums are almost never definitive. In the event of a close result, the party’s anti-EU wing will swiftly identify grounds for a second vote.

Several cabinet ministers, however, spoke of their confidence in Cameron’s ability to navigate the rapids of the referendum and his pre-announced departure. “More than ever, he’s the right man for these times,” one told me. By this December, Cameron will have led his party for ten years, a reign exceeded in recent history only by Stanley Baldwin, Winston Churchill and Margaret Thatcher. That the Conservatives have so far avoided cataclysm is an underappreciated achievement.

Yet there are landmines ahead. An increasing number of MPs fear that the planned cuts to tax credits could be a foul-up comparable to Gordon Brown’s abolition of the 10p tax rate. Despite the appeals of Boris Johnson and the Sun, Cameron and Osborne have signalled that there will be no backtracking. At such moments of reflection, the Tories console themselves with the belief that, although voters may use Corbyn as a receptacle for protest (as they did Michael Foot, Neil Kinnock and Ed Miliband), they will not elect him. They also acknowledge that the current Labour leader may not be their opponent in 2020. The former paratrooper Dan Jarvis is most often cited as the successor they fear. As with Cameron and Blair, his relative lack of ideological definition may prove to be a strength, one MP suggested.

William Hague is fond of joking that the Tories have only two modes: panic and complacency. If the danger before the general election was of the former, the danger now is of the latter. 

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.