“Obamacare’s a ‘Bailout’ Now?”: Conservative Critics Are Getting Desperate
Conservatives used to say Obamacare is socialized medicine. Now they say it is a “government bailout” of insurers.
The new claim is just as misleading and cynical as the old one.
The latest conservative playing thing is a pair of previously obscure Obamacare features: “reinsurance” and “risk corridors.” Their mechanisms are a bit complicated to explain. (Read here if you want the details.) What matters is their shared purpose, which is to reimburse insurance companies that end up taking heavy losses—say, because the new marketplaces don’t attract enough young, healthy subscribers. Remember, insurers depend on premiums from people in good health to subsidize the costs of the sick. Without the right mix, the premiums insurers collect won’t be sufficient to cover the cost of clams. They’ll lose money, raise premiums in the future, drop out of the market altogether, or some combination of the three. In short, bad stuff will happen.
To Obamacare supporters, reinsurance and risk corridors are tools for stabilizing the insurance market and easing the transition from the old system to the new. (That’s why I’ve been calling them “shock absorbers.”) But the provisions started attracting scrutiny from the right in the fall, when policy watchers like David Freddoso of Conservative Intelligence Briefing first wrote about it. Now reinsurance and risk corridors are getting more sustained attention from the Weekly Standard, Fox News, and the conservative movement writ large. Republican Senator Marco Rubio has sponsored a bill to repeal the risk corridors. “Why should taxpayers have to bail out health insurance companies in the increasingly likely event that ObamaCare leaves them with financial losses?” Rubio wrote this week, in an op-ed for the Fox website. “This is government favoritism and corporate cronyism at its worst, and it’s taxpayers that will pay the price unless we stop it.” Insurers are sufficiently spooked that, as Buzzfeed’s Kate Nocera has reported, they are undertaking a lobbying campaign to keep the provisions in place.
The bailout analogy is potent. And it’s certainly accurate to say that, under Obamacare, some insurers may collect payments from the government to help offset losses. But the analogy breaks down after that.
Bailouts typically start with companies taking egregiously irresponsible actions and end with the government forking over mind-boggling sums of money to save them. Think of the savings and loans institutions misleading the public about the state of their finances in the 1980s—or the financial industry making those bad home loans and risky investments a decade ago. Each of those involved grievous management errors, frequently skirting the limits of legality. The federal outlays to save those banks were in the hundreds of billions of dollars.
With Obamacare, the situation is different. Projecting future insurance costs inevitably involves a little guesswork. With a brand new program like Obamacare, it inevitably involves a lot of guesswork. Even the smartest, most responsible actuaries might not get the numbers right, for reasons Sy Mukherjee of ThinkProgress explains:
Insurance companies were sort of shooting in the dark when they set premiums for Obamacare’s first year. They had to approximate how many people would enroll, how old the customers would be, how sick they would be, how much insurers would have to pay out in claims — but the whole enterprise was, ultimately, a series of educated guesses.
Will the guesses prove wrong? Humana officials told investors last week that the risk pools look a little worse than they had anticipated. But, as Sarah Kliff of the Washington Post just reported, officials at Wellpoint say their risk pools seem ok while the CEO of Aetna described the demographics as “better than I thought they would have been.”
Truth is, no insurer will be sure about its beneficiaries for many months, until the open enrollment period ends and the newly insured have a few months in which to file claims. That makes it impossible to know what kinds of losses, if any, insurers will take. But even if the losses are significant, the taxpayers won’t be in for another Wall Street-style bailout.
For one thing, the reinsurance money comes from the insurers themselves, who pay a tax on each beneficiary. It’s basically a transfer of funds, from all carriers to those companies inside the Obamacare marketplaces that end up with unusually unhealthy members. In this sense, it’s an insurance policy for the insurers—and one they more or less finance on their own.
The payouts from risk corridors are a little different, in the sense that those dollars come directly from government funds and have no actual limit. But the risk corridors also build up government funds—in effect, by claiming some of the profits from insurers who reap unexpected windfalls. The Congressional Budget Office, in its overall cost estimates for the Affordable Care Act, assumed that the inflow and outlfow would be roughly the same, so that the risk corridor program as a whole would be budget neutral. Even if CBO’s prediction is wrong, and the government ends up spending more than it raises, the difference is likely to be modest. The formula for payouts calls merely for government to share in high losses or gains, not to take them on completely. It’s enough to protect the insurers, the thinking goes, but not enough to cause a massive outlay. Meanwhile, lower-than-expected premiums are likely to save the government much more money than the risk corridors would ever pay out.
Conservatives might object to reinsurance and risk corridors on principle, regardless of amounts involved. That would be a perfectly legitimate argument, except for one thing: Reinsurance and risk corridors are already a feature of some government programs, most prominent among them Medicare Part D. The reinsurance and risk corridors in Obamacare and Medicare Part D are remarkably similar, except that Obamacare’s are temporary and Medicare Part D’s are permanent—which is to say, they are still part of the program.
What’s that? You haven’t heard Republicans attacking Medicare Part D as an insurer bailout? Maybe that’s because of one other, obvious difference between Part D and the Affordable Care Act. Only one of them was signed into law by a guy named Barack Obama.
Update: The Rubio bill would repeal only the risk corridors. Originally, I wrote that it would repeal both provisions. My apologies for the error.
By: Jonathan Cohn, The New Republic, January 16, 2014
A “Steel Skeleton In The Closet”: Mitt Romney, Bain Capital And The $44 Million Bailout
It was funny at first.
The young men in business suits, gingerly picking their way among the millwrights, machinists and pipefitters at Kansas City’s Worldwide Grinding Systems steel mill. Gaping up at the cranes that swung 10-foot cast iron buckets through the air. Jumping at the thunder from the melt shop’s electric-arc furnace as it turned scrap metal into lava.
“They looked like a bunch of high school kids to me. A bunch of Wall Street preppies,” says Jim Linson, an electronics repairman who worked at the plant for 40 years. “They came in, they were in awe.”
Apparently they liked what they saw. Soon after, in October 1993, Bain Capital, co-founded by Mitt Romney, became majority shareholder in a steel mill that had been operating since 1888.
It was a gamble. The old mill, renamed GS Technologies, needed expensive updating, and demand for its products was susceptible to cycles in the mining industry and commodities markets.
Less than a decade later, the mill was padlocked and some 750 people lost their jobs. Workers were denied the severance pay and health insurance they’d been promised, and their pension benefits were cut by as much as $400 a month.
What’s more, a federal government insurance agency had to pony up $44 million to bail out the company’s underfunded pension plan. Nevertheless, Bain profited on the deal, receiving $12 million on its $8 million initial investment and at least $4.5 million in consulting fees.
PROFITABLE FAILURES
In his campaign for president, Romney has championed free markets and vowed to shrink the role of government. The Republican has argued that his business acumen makes him the best candidate to fix the nation’s economy and bring down the stubbornly high unemployment rate. Romney’s opponents point to his business career as evidence that he is willing to cut jobs and benefits.
The story of Bain’s failed investment in the Kansas City mill offers a perspective on a largely overlooked chapter in Romney’s business record: His firm’s brush with a U.S. bailout.
His supporters say the pension gap at the Kansas City mill was an unforeseen consequence of a falling stock market and adverse market conditions. But records show that the mill’s Bain-backed management was confronted several times about the fund’s shortfall, which, in the end, required an infusion of funds from the federal Pension Benefits Guarantee Corp.
Romney’s career at Bain included both successes and failures. That is not unusual in the private equity business, where investors buy troubled companies and try to turn them around, often through aggressive use of debt.
“Bain Capital invested in many businesses,” Romney spokesman Ryan Williams said in a written statement. “While not every business was successful, the firm had an excellent overall track record and created jobs with well-known companies like Staples, Dominos Pizza and Sports Authority.”
Bain showed a remarkable knack for turning a profit. A prospectus from the year 2000 obtained by the Los Angeles Times shows that the buyout firm delivered an average annual return on investment of 88 percent between its founding in 1984 and the end of 1999.
Romney headed the firm for that entire period, except for a hiatus in 1990 to 1992, when he returned to Bain Capital’s sister consulting firm, Bain & Co. In 1999 he left the business to run the Winter Olympics in Salt Lake City.
The steel company declared bankruptcy in 2001. Romney continued receiving dividends from Bain after his departure. He accumulated a personal fortune of between $190 million and $250 million, according to campaign disclosure forms.
Steven Kaplan, a University of Chicago professor of entrepreneurship and finance, describes Bain’s track record under Romney as “fantastic,” even if some ventures ended in failure.
“You don’t do this by just squeezing out costs. Those kinds of returns only come from growth,” he said. “Yes, they had some bad investments, I guess in the same way presidents make some bad calls.”
CASHING IN
Overall, Bain made at least $12 million on the steel company it created by merging the Kansas City mill with another in South Carolina before the new entity declared bankruptcy in 2001. Bain also collected an additional $900,000 a year through 1999 for management consulting services, public filings show.
Some analysts say Bain should not be blamed for the company’s failure, noting that a wave of cheap imports forced nearly half of the U.S. steel industry into bankruptcy during that period. Another company set up around the same time, in which Bain took a minority stake, Steel Dynamics in Fort Wayne, Indiana, thrived.
“GS and Steel Dynamics were about as different as it gets,” industry analyst Michelle Applebaum said. GS’s core products were vulnerable to competition while Steel Dynamics became “one of the country’s lowest-cost manufacturers of steel sheet,” a product with more staying power. Steel Dynamics was also a non-union shop.
Former company executives say they were generally satisfied with Bain’s leadership, but they say the firm would have been better equipped to weather tough times had it not been saddled with such a heavy debt load.
They also fault Bain for putting inexperienced managers in place and spurning a buyout offer from a competitor. Workers say efforts to cut corners often backfired, driving costs higher.
The Kansas City millworkers, meanwhile, are still fuming, after being left with no health benefits and a reduced pension check.
“Romney cost me lots and lots of sleepless nights and lots and lots of money,” said Ed Stanger, who worked at the plant for nearly 30 years.
A GOOD LIVING
Since opening in 1888 as The Kansas City Bolt and Nut Co., the steelworks that sprawl along the Blue River valley in the city’s northeast corner provided a steady and prestigious living for thousands of men. It was hard, dirty, dangerous work. The plant kept two surgeons on site in case of accidents, and death on the job was not unknown.
When summer temperatures would top 100 degrees, workers wore long johns under their protective suits so their sweat could offer some relief.
Still, it wasn’t easy to get a job at the mill. The pay was good, lifting countless families into the middle class. Workers bought houses and cars and sent their kids to college.
“Hard work is supposed to pay off,” said John Cottrell, who spent decades working with molten metal. White burn marks crisscross his massive forearms, and years of asbestos exposure have left him short of breath. Sitting at his kitchen table in the working class suburb of Independence, he looks a decade older than his 64 years.
At its peak in 1970, the Kansas City plant, then owned by Armco Steel Corp, employed 4,500 people. Poor market conditions forced a wave of layoffs in the early 1980s and led the company to prune its product line. By the early 1990s, the plant focused on two items: wire for products such as mattress springs and tires; and high-carbon balls and rods used by the mining industry to pulverize rocks.
It was around that time that the mill workers started noticing the kids in suits.
Armco wanted to sell its Kansas City plant to concentrate on other aspects of its business. Jack Stutz and a few of the other Armco managers were looking for backers to help them buy it. They spoke to GE Capital, which, in turn, contacted Bain Capital because it had earned a sterling reputation for turning companies around.
The risks were obvious. The mill’s equipment was out of date and it faced stiff competition from Nucor Corp, which also made grinding balls.
Nevertheless, Bain and its partners decided to buy the mill for $75 million. Bain put up about $8 million to gain majority control of the company, renamed GS Technologies Inc. GE Capital, former Armco executives and Leggett & Platt, a major customer for the mill’s wire rods, chipped in the rest of the equity.
As part of the deal, Armco agreed to cover employee pension obligations if the plant closed within five years — a $120 million liability, according to the Kansas City Business Journal.
THE BIG DIVIDEND
Bain got its money back quickly. The new company issued $125 million in bonds and paid Bain a $36.1 million dividend in 1994.
“Paying distributions with debt is not uncommon,” said Campbell Harvey, a finance professor at Duke University. “The only thing that strikes me as a bit unusual is the size of the dividend. There would be logic in them saving some cash for a downturn.”
Looking back on the dividend payout, Stutz and another former GS Technologies officer, Mario Concha, believe it weakened the mill’s financial position.
“At the time they paid that dividend, they felt that the financials justified it,” Stutz said.
GS announced plans for a $98 million plant modernization and Kansas City officials agreed to a tax break worth about $3 million, according to press accounts.
In 1995 Bain merged GS with another wire rod maker in Georgetown, South Carolina, to form one of the largest mini-mill steel producers in the U.S. The new company issued another $125 million in bonds to pay for the merger. Bain doubled down, reinvesting $16.5 million of its earlier dividend.
The new company, dubbed GS Industries Inc., would have annual revenues of $1 billion and employ 3,800 people.
Already, though, there were warning signs that the company was not on a sustainable course. Concerned about the level of debt, which totaled $378 million in 1995 on operating income less than a tenth of that amount, the merged company’s new CEO, Roger Regelbrugge, negotiated a clause in his contract that would allow him to retire at the end of 1997.
Regelbrugge said he was concerned that the company would have to go through a painful restructuring if it had not sold shares through an initial public offering (IPO) by then.
Regelbrugge had done one restructuring in the 1980s at the South Carolina mill, laying off workers and haggling with creditors. He did not want to go through that painful process again.
“Unless we had plans to go public at that time, I did not want to carry that debt load ad infinitum,” he said.
Over the next two years, GS Industries completed its upgrade of the Kansas City plant and laid the groundwork for an IPO to pay down some of the debt.
Meanwhile, managers struggled to forge a cohesive whole from two companies that made similar products but had different corporate cultures, different manufacturing processes and different labor contracts.
“I guess the two cultures never really got together,” Stutz said.
ON STRIKE
In 1997, with Armco’s pension guarantees set to expire in one year, the United Steelworkers local at the Kansas City plant was worried that GS was not setting aside enough money to cover pension obligations and other benefits in the event of a shutdown.
David Foster, the negotiator for the union, said labor talks were typically more tense at companies owned by private equity firms because the high level of debt left managers with less flexibility.
Contract talks foundered and the union went on strike in April 1997. The first standoff since 1959 quickly turned nasty. Workers shot bottle rockets at security guards, tossed nails in the roadways to flatten the tires of nonunion trucks and pounded on the windows of vehicles as they left the plant.
After 10 weeks, the two sides reached a deal that boosted pensions and ensured that workers would get health and life insurance in the event of a shutdown.
The workers put down their picket signs, but the equipment upgrades weren’t delivering productivity gains as quickly as hoped. At the end of 1997, Regelbrugge decided to retire rather than stick around for an IPO that wasn’t going to materialize.
Shortly after that, an industry competitor offered “a whole lot of money” to buy GS, according to Regelbrugge, but Bain turned it down. A company insider said the suitor was the global behemoth Mittal Steel Company, but added that no formal offer was ever made.
As GS Industries sought to cut costs, it hired line managers with no experience in the steel industry, workers said. One had worked at Walmart; many others came straight out of the military.
“He would come up with some of the stupidest damn ideas that you ever seen,” the former steelworker Linson said of one supervisor, a retired Air Force colonel.
Paperwork proliferated. Cost-cutting efforts backfired. Managers skimped on purchases of everything from earplugs to spare motors and scaled back routine maintenance. Machines began to break down more often, and with parts no longer in stock a replacement could take days to arrive.
Labor costs spiked as managers revamped work schedules with little understanding of how the plant actually operated. Linson says he picked up an entire shift of overtime each week because his managers didn’t realize that a furnace needed a full eight hours to heat up to operating temperature.
“That didn’t work to their advantage,” he said. “I made a lot of money.”
Daily life at the plant was also growing more dangerous. Veteran crane operator Ed Mossman says he was ordered to pick up a load of steel that was 50 percent above the recommended weight limit – a prospect that could have toppled the crane and sent Mossman plunging to his death. When he refused, he says, he was fired after putting in 29 years at the mill.
“The first 15 years, I had the best job in the United States, as far as I was concerned,” Mossman said. “The last five years down there got to be pure hell.”
Meanwhile, a wave of cheap imports from Asia drove steel prices down sharply, while costs for natural gas and electricity rose. The Asian financial crisis lowered demand for mined metals, which hit the company’s grinding-ball business.
The company, along with other steelmakers, successfully petitioned the U.S. International Trade Commission for tariff rate quotas on imported wire rods and also entered the federal loan guarantee program for troubled steel companies — two remedies at odds with a free-market stance. Romney now says it was a mistake for the government to try to protect the steel industry.
Nevertheless, net losses at the company grew to $52.9 million in 1999 from $16.1 million in 1997, while operating income dropped to $9.6 million from $37.9 million over the same period — not enough to sustain the firm’s debt and obligations for long.
THE BLAME GAME
Charles Bradford, an analyst at Bradford Research, blames the union, in part, for the failure of GS Industries to survive in the new global marketplace.
“If you look at the steel companies that went under at the time, all of them were unionized,” he said. “I’m not saying this was the only factor — these firms faced other headwinds such as cheap labor and a strong dollar … but the unions held them back.”
Union officials blame the Bain managers for saddling the company with too much debt for a capital-intensive, cyclical industry such as steel. “They look at ways to try to leverage the financial resources of the company during an uptick in the markets, stream money out of it and leave wreckage behind them,” said the union’s Foster.
Regelbrugge blames his successor, Mark Essig, for installing senior managers who did not know the business. “I have no question that the company would have survived under different management,” he said. Essig did not return calls seeking comment.
A spokesman for Bain Capital said: “Over $100 million and many thousands of hours were invested in GSI to upgrade its facilities and make the company more competitive during a 7-year period when the industry came under enormous pressure and 44 U.S. steel companies went into bankruptcy. In the same period, we worked to turn around GSI, we helped launch and grow an innovative business called Steel Dynamics that is today a $6 billion global leader…. Our focus remains on building great companies and improving their operations.”
GS Industries declared bankruptcy on February 7, 2001, and said it would shut down the Kansas City plant, eliminating 750 jobs. In a press release, the company said the bankruptcy was triggered in part by “the critical need to restructure the company’s liabilities.”
Workers soon found out what that meant. In April, GS said it was shedding the guarantees it had promised its workers in the event of a plant closure – the severance pay, health insurance, life insurance and pension supplements that had been negotiated during the 1997 strike.
Workers could buy health insurance through the company’s plan, but the company would no longer share its costs. For many who were struggling with asbestosis or other ailments contracted during their years of work, the cost was prohibitive.
“The wife and I, we just held our breath and prayed a lot,” said Stanger, the ex-millworker. He was quoted a price of $1,800 per month – more than his pension payment.
FEDERAL AID
The U.S. Pension Benefit Guaranty Corp, which insures company retirement plans, determined in 2002 that GS had underfunded its pension by $44 million. The federal agency, funded by corporate levies, stepped in to cover the basic pension payments, but not the supplement the union had negotiated as a hedge against the plant’s closure.
For Joe Soptic, who worked at the plant for 28 years, that meant a loss of $283 per month, about 22 percent of his pension. Others lost up to $400 per month, according to documents supplied by the union.
Comparatively, the GS bailout was one of the pension guarantor’s smaller hits. The federal fund swung from a $7.7 billion surplus to a $3.6 billion deficit that year as it struggled to cover bankruptcies in the steel and transportation industries. The failure of LTV Steel, for example, cost the agency $1.9 billion.
The agency’s woes prompted Congress in 2006 to require companies to contribute more toward their pensions. Press accounts said this change accelerated the shift away from pension plans toward 401(k)s and other defined-contribution retirement plans that offer less security for workers.
Many of the older workers at the Kansas City mill were just a few years away from Social Security and Medicare, but younger workers didn’t have that safety net. Even with $600,000 earmarked by the U.S. Labor Department for job retraining, many had trouble finding work.
“They give you a year’s worth of training, you’re 50-something years old, nobody wants to hire you,” said Steve Morrow, who retrained in the field of heating and air conditioning.
After nearly 30 years as a steelworker, Joe Soptic found a job as a school custodian. The $24,000 salary was roughly one-third of his former pay, and the health plan did not cover his wife, Ranae.
When Ranae started losing weight, “I tried to get her to the doctor and she wouldn’t go,” Soptic said. She ended up in the county hospital with pneumonia, where doctors discovered her advanced lung cancer. She died two weeks later.
Soptic was left with nearly $30,000 in medical bills. He drained a $12,000 savings account and the hospital wrote off the balance.
“I worked hard all my life and played by the rules, and they allowed this to happen,” Soptic said.
By: Andrew Sullivan and Greg Roumeliotis, Reuters, January 6, 2012
State Loan Program That Rick Perry Touted Had To Be Bailed Out
Gov. Rick Perry has anchored his presidential campaign to his claims of creating jobs.
With no business record of his own, Perry must contrast his ability to create jobs with public money against the records of two front-runners, Mitt Romney and Herman Cain, who tout credentials as private employers.
His GOP opponents already have sniped at his gubernatorial record, saying Perry inflates his job-creation numbers and takes credit for a business climate he inherited. Perry’s efforts to create jobs and spur agribusinesses as the state’s agriculture commissioner during the 1990s might provide even more fodder for the opposition.
Over his eight years as Texas’ farmer-in-chief, Perry oversaw a loan guarantee program with so many defaults that the state had to stop guaranteeing bank loans to startups in agribusiness and eventually bailed out the program with taxpayer money.
The state auditor panned Perry’s claims of creating jobs and criticized Perry and his fellow board members at the Texas Agricultural Finance Authority for not following their own lending guidelines.
In some instances, the auditor said, Perry and the authority guaranteed loans to applicants with a negative net worth or too much debt. Citing growing debts, the auditor finally suggested that state officials consider dismantling the program.
Even as the first alarms were sounded, Perry defended the program, saying no taxpayer money was at risk, blaming others and claiming he had fixed it.
It only got worse.
By 2002, Perry’s successor, Agriculture Commissioner Susan Combs, a Republican, stopped making loans as the percentage of bad loans neared 30 percent.
By 2009, her successor, Agriculture Commissioner Todd Staples, also a Republican, asked the Legislature to pay off the loan guarantees with a $14.7 million appropriation. The finance authority could no longer afford the $541,000 to cover the annual interest on the bad debts, almost all of which dated back to Perry’s tenure.
“It’s bad,” Staples told the American-Statesman at the time. “Unfortunately, taxpayers are on the hook for something that happened as long ago as 1987.”
In effect, Perry, as governor, signed his own government bailout when he approved the 2009 appropriations bill.
The Perry campaign did not respond to questions about whether Perry, as president, would use public money in economic development programs and what lessons he learned from his experience guaranteeing risky business loans with public money.
Mired in partisan politics
When the Legislature created the Texas Agricultural Finance Authority in 1987, the intent was to boost the state’s agricultural economy by selling state-backed bonds to guarantee bank loans to entrepreneurs who could not get commercial loans. The goal was to create small businesses and jobs by processing — rather than simply growing — Texas agricultural products.
The program immediately got mired in partisan politics, with Agriculture Commissioner Jim Hightower, a Democrat, on one side, and the Republican members of the finance authority appointed by Gov. Bill Clements on the other.
The impasse ensured that no loans were made during Hightower’s term.
In 1990, Perry campaigned on a promise to create jobs and expand the rural economy by making loans to agribusiness startups that would process the state’s agricultural products.
Clements’ appointees to the finance authority board gave Perry, a board member, sole authority to guarantee loans before newly elected Gov. Ann Richards, a Democrat, could replace them.
Under the program, the state would guarantee 90 percent of a lender’s loan — up to a maximum of $5 million — to an applicant.
Entrepreneurs lined up for money to spin cotton into yarn, process meats, develop cotton insulation, market canna bulbs to wholesale nurseries and sell pinto beans as a ready-to-eat frozen meal, to name a few.
‘This has not cost Texans money’
Perry had made four loan guarantees for $5.8 million by the time the attorney general ruled that he had to share that authority with his fellow board members. Even then, Perry and his staff drove the decisions.
Mary Webb, a Richards appointee who joined the finance authority as chairwoman in 1992, said the part-time board members had to rely on Perry’s staff at the agriculture department when screening loan applications.
“They did the legwork,” she said. “We looked at the deals to see if they fit with the legislation: Would they create jobs and help the agriculture community?”
By the time Webb left the board in 1995, she said she knew a couple of loans were in trouble. She said she learned only later the scope of the problems with other loans.
The first loan guarantees were financed by selling $25 million in bonds.
Twice, in 1993 and 1995, Perry campaigned for voters to approve more bonding authority.
Perry claimed the first two years of the program had created 4,100 jobs and pumped $390 million into the economy by guaranteeing loans to 47 companies. He predicted more than 40,000 jobs could be created with the additional bonding authority.
He didn’t mention troubled loans as he touted the program’s virtues at a 1993 Capitol press conference: “We think that this Texas Ag Finance Authority is, without a doubt, one of the finest programs that the Texas Legislature, that the citizens of Texas have ever gone forward with.”
At another stop, Perry said, “We can truly say it has not cost the taxpayers of Texas any money.”
Voters turned him down in 1993, but Perry finally won an extra $200 million in bonding authority two years later.
“This is one of the few government programs that truly has worked,” Perry said. “This has not cost Texans money.”
In January 1997, State Auditor Lawrence Alwin first alerted state officials, saying Perry and the board had violated their own lending guidelines.
He said 10 of the 48 companies had defaulted, and six more were in trouble. The first bad loans were written off as uncollectible in 1995, according to records.
Alwin also debunked a $40,000 report by a state-paid consultant claiming the program had created or retained more than 5,000 jobs at a cost of $412 per job as well as contributing $600 million to the economy.
The consultant’s data, which Perry submitted to the Legislature, were “unverifiable, incomplete, untimely, and inconsistent” and based on unrealistic assumptions about job creation, Alwin concluded.
A year later, Alwin warned that the situation had gotten worse. The program was $5.7 million in the red because of bad loans.
The issue hit the newspapers.
Perry and his lieutenants defended the program.
Deputy Agriculture Commissioner Larry Soward told The Dallas Morning News that the audit reflected a number of bad loans made early in the program to farmers and ranchers trying their first business ventures.
“The business acumen of the people behind them might not have been as strong as possible,” Soward said.
But he insisted the program would rebound: “The fact that there is a negative balance does not mean the program is in trouble.”
Perry echoed a similar refrain in a guest column in the Amarillo Daily News.
“By their very nature, TAFA loans are considered higher risk. Because of this, some defaults were inevitable and a negative balance was expected in the early years of the program,” he wrote.
He blamed the problems on “some unfortunate decisions made by the previous TAFA board early in the program.”
Perry promised the problem was fixed. “Today, TAFA is on solid footing with a positive balance projected by 2010,” he wrote.
He reminded readers that the loans were funded by debt — commercial paper: “No taxpayer money has ever been used to make TAFA loans.”
In 1998, Perry was elected lieutenant governor, and Combs succeeded him as agriculture commissioner.
She talked of expanding the loan guarantee program to other borrowers beyond food and fiber processors. But she asked Alwin to do a follow-up audit.
His warning was prescient. He said a program that guaranteed loans to people who typically couldn’t qualify for commercial loans would have a hard time finding enough good loans to generate the income to offset the losses from the bad ones.
In 2002, Combs and the agricultural finance authority bowed to that reality, suspending any new loans.
Twenty-nine of 102 guaranteed loans defaulted, almost all of them during Perry’s tenure, according to the records provided this month by the agriculture department.
While the majority of the loans were in good standing, the majority of the original $25 million — $14.7 million — was bad debt. Just as the auditor warned, the income from the good loans could not generate enough cash to make the program self-sustaining.
“We hit a brick wall,” Staples said in 2009.
By: Laylan Copelin, American-Statesman Staff, Statesman.com, October 22, 2011
Are Members Of Congress Engaged In Insider Trading?
When Congress isn’t sending billions in taxpayer money to bail out Wall Street firms, some of its legislators appear to be using information unavailable to the general public to personally profit on stock trades.
So says a study just published in Business and Politics. A portfolio that imitates the stock purchases of House members outperforms the market by more than 6 percent in the course of a year, its authors found. “A previous study of the stock returns of U.S. Senators in a leading finance journal indicates that their portfolios show some of the highest excess returns ever recorded over a long period of time, significantly outperforming even hedge fund managers,” they wrote. “Until now, there has been no similar study of Members of the U.S. House of Representatives.”
Now we know that from 1985 to 2001, the specific interval used to generate the data, senators do the best, House members follow, and the average American investor brings up the rear. In defense of Congress, however, most legislators weren’t exploiting their advantage: on average only 27 percent of senators and 16 percent of House members bought and sold common stock. Interestingly, in the House “by far the most successful traders were those Representatives with the least seniority.” The authors acknowledge that result is counterintuitive, and posit this explanation:
Whereas Representatives with the longest seniority (in this case more than 16 years), have no trouble raising funds for campaigns, junkets and whatever other causes they may deem desirable owed to the power they wield, the financial condition of a freshman Congressman is far more precarious. His or her position is by no means secure, financially or otherwise. House Members with the least seniority may have fewer opportunities to trade on privileged information, but they may be the most highly motivated to do so when the opportunities arise.
So what should be done?
It’s presented as a thorny problem. “To restrain Members from taking personal advantage of non-public information and using their positions for personal gain, Congress has decided that such unethical behavior is best discouraged by the public disclosure of financial investments by Representatives and the discipline of the electoral process,” the authors point out, but “to form a reasonable opinion of a Representative’s conflicts of interest, voters must familiarize themselves with their Representative’s personal asset holdings, the details of each law under consideration in the House and the voting record of the Representative. This could be difficult for any voter.”
That’s why faster disclosure would work best here. Forget filing periodic reports. Just force Members of Congress to be transparent about their stock trades in real time. Voter oversight wouldn’t even be needed — the idea is that self-interested traders would closely monitor the buying and selling of stock by legislators, who’d thereby lose a lot of their ability to get a jump on other investors.
Right?
By: Conor Friedersdorf, The Atlantic, May 27, 2011
Debt Ceiling Warning: Inaction Would Double Interest Rates, Crash Market
Public efforts by both House Speaker John Boehner and President Obama to convince skeptical new Republican House members to add $2 trillion to the nation’s burdensome $14 trillion debt ceiling are being reinforced by dire warnings from business leaders that failing to OK the increase will lead to inflation, an immediate doubling of interest rates and a killer Wall Street crash.
“If they don’t increase the debt, there will be a huge impact on the economy,” a Wall Street executive told Whispers on background. “Interest rates would spike. S&P and Moody’s would downgrade U.S. debt, raising the price of borrowing, there would be a market sell-off, it would be a disaster.”
While Boehner, who yesterday called for a deal that would OK the debt ceiling increase in return for trillions of dollars in spending cuts, Wall Street lobbyists and banking and business leaders are meeting with several of the new Tea Party-backed House members who pledged to stop raising the ceiling to explain the impact of standing pat.
“A lot of freshmen are new to the issue,” said one of those meeting with the new members, some of whom signed pledges not to raise the debt ceiling no matter what.
Among the specifics the sources say they are telling the new members:
— Inflation could jump, though they aren’t giving any percentage growth.
— Interest rates could double if U.S. debt is downgraded. House loans, for example, that are now below 5 percent, could surge to 9-10 percent, killing any chance of fixing the housing slump or cutting the unemployment rate, now at 9 percent.
— The stock market could suffer a 10 percent drop, far more significant than the 778 point thrashing Wall Street took when the House rejected the government’s $700 billion bank bailout plan in September 2008.
“That market sell-off will look small compared to what we’ll see,” said a Wall Street executive.
So far, the campaign to turn the naysayers around is starting to work, say those involved. Helping is the expectations that the debt ceiling won’t actually be breached until August.
While there have been warnings that the vote must come sooner due to expectations that the cap will be breached this month, officials explained that Treasury can make several moves to postpone that until about August 2.
By: Paul Bedard, U. S. News and World Report, May 10, 2011
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