Krugman backs minting a $1trn platinum coin

The real funny story's the debt ceiling.

Paul Krugman, Nobel Laureate and New York Times columnist/blogger, has written that President Obama should be willing to mint a $1trn platinum coin in order to avoid having to compromise over the debt ceiling.

Krugman blogs:

He will, after all, be faced with a choice between two alternatives: one that’s silly but benign, the other that’s equally silly but both vile and disastrous. The decision should be obvious…

It’s easy to make sententious remarks to the effect that we shouldn’t look for gimmicks, we should sit down like serious people and deal with our problems realistically. That may sound reasonable — if you’ve been living in a cave for the past four years. Given the realities of our political situation, and in particular the mixture of ruthlessness and craziness that now characterizes House Republicans, it’s just ridiculous — far more ridiculous than the notion of the coin.

Krugman is… half right. As Felix Salmon notes, it's no surprise that the people most in favour of the platinum coin option are largely economists. From an economic point of view, there really is no reason not to do it. Less informed commentators use basic knowledge of economic theory to warn that minting the coin is "printing money" which will lead to "massive inflation"; but since using the legal quirk to prevent a government shutdown wouldn't lead to an increase in the money supply, those fears are unfounded.

Instead, the problem is the political one. Salmon sums it up:

If you believe that the country is best run by grown-ups, you can’t believe in #mintthecoin, because it simply isn’t a grown-up strategy. If you believe that the House Republicans behave in crazy and illogical ways, then you can’t believe in #mintthecoin, because the threat of minting the coin doesn’t work against someone who’s crazy and illogical. And if you believe that the best way to approach the debt ceiling is to try and abolish it altogether, then you can’t believe in #mintthecoin, because the entire strategy is based on the idea of keeping the ceiling where it is, and then trying to circumvent it.

There are still some economic problems with the idea, which Salmon touches on. The chief ones are to do with the sheer uncertainty of minting the coin. Everyone thinks it is probably legal – but until and unless the Supreme Court affirms that, nobody can be certain it is. Which means that for an indeterminate period, the US economy would be like Schrödinger's Cat, in a superposition between default and creditworthiness. That's not desirable for anyone.

The real reason to carry on talking about minting the coin isn't, as Krugman argues, because it might mean that Obama actually mints it. But nor is it, as Salmon argues, because it might scare the Republicans into backing down. It is, instead, to come up with something Obama can "concede" on without actually having to concede on anything at all. Obama offers to change the law to ban minting the coin, in exchange for also changing the law to end the debt ceiling. It's the argument made by *Bloomberg*'s Josh Barro.

And make no mistake, the debt ceiling is ridiculous. Quite beyond its pernicious effects – it would prove beyond doubt that the American political system is broken, would almost certainly lead to the US defaulting on its international debt payments, and would definitely lead to crippling immediate defaults on *national* debt payments like tax refunds and federal salaries – it is a legal limit which makes no sense, politically or economically. The debt ceiling is a limit, set by congress, on how much the executive branch can borrow. But the executive branch's spending is also set by congress: when it authorises a bill, the president is not allowed to spend a penny over the amount specified, nor a penny under.

The debt ceiling could only ever have one of two effects: either it does nothing, because it is higher than the amount congress has ordered the executive branch to borrow; or it forces the President to break the law, either by ignoring the debt ceiling or by ignoring all of the other bills passed by congress instructing him to spend.

And we're laughing about the platinum coin?

A US platinum coin. Photograph: Wikimedia Commons

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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Why do the words “soup, swoop, loop de loop” come to mind every time I lift a spoon to my lips?

It’s all thanks to Barry and Anita.

A while ago I was lending a friend the keys to our house. We keep spare keys in a ceramic pot I was given years ago by someone who made it while on an art-school pottery course. “That’s er . . . quite challenging,” the friend said of the pot.

“Is it?” I replied. “I’d stopped noticing how ugly it is.”

“Then it’s a grunty,” she said.

“A what?” I asked.

“A grunty. It’s something you have in your house that’s hideous and useless but you’ve stopped noticing it completely, so it’s effectively invisible.”

I was much taken with this idea and realised that as well as “grunties” there are also “gruntyisms”: things you say or do, though the reason why you say or do them has long since been forgotten. For example, every time we drink soup my wife and I say the same thing, uttered in a strange monotone: we say, “Soup, swoop, loop de loop.” How we came to say “soup, swoop, loop de loop” came about like this.

For a married couple, the years between your mid-thirties and your late forties might be seen as the decade of the bad dinner party. You’re no longer looking for a partner, so the hormonal urge to visit crowded bars has receded, but you are still full of energy so you don’t want to stay in at night, either. Instead, you go to dinner parties attended by other couples you don’t necessarily like that much.

One such couple were called Barry and Anita. Every time we ate at their house Barry would make soup, and when serving it he would invariably say, “There we are: soup, swoop, loop de loop.” After the dinner party, as soon as we were in the minicab going home, me and Linda would start drunkenly talking about what an arse Barry was, saying to each other, in a high-pitched, mocking imitation of his voice: “Please do have some more of this delicious soup, swoop, loop de loop.” Then we’d collapse against each other laughing, convincing the Algerian or Bengali taxi driver once again of the impenetrability and corruption of Western society.

Pretty soon whenever we had soup at home, Linda and I would say to each other, “Soup, swoop, loop de loop,” at first still ridiculing Barry, but eventually we forgot why we were saying it and it became part of the private language every couple develop, employed long after we’d gratefully ceased having soupy dinners with Barry and Anita.

In the early Nineties we had an exchange student staying with us for a year, a Maori girl from the Cook Islands in the southern Pacific. When she returned home she took the expression “soup, swoop, loop de loop” with her and spread it among her extended family, until finally the phrase appeared in an anthropological dissertation: “ ‘Soup swoop, loop de loop.’ Shamanistic Incantations in Rarotongan Food Preparation Rituals” – University of Topeka, 2001. 

This article first appeared in the 21 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The English Revolt