Health care has been a big debating issue in the United States for much
longer than I can remember, and this year it's consumed even more
public discourse bandwidth than usual. Rare is the day I hear or read
no arguments about health care, and I don't even seek them out.
Observing these discussions, I've learned nothing about health care but
quite a bit about debate.
There's very little rationality to be
found in these conflicts, which tend to devolve into emotional,
ideological shouting matches. Rather, there's typically a couple grains
of rationality, but no more; participants seem to refuse to think
critically about every aspect of the situation. As a result, there's a
lot of talking past one another, and even less gets accomplished than
in regular political arguments, which don't accomplish much.
My
low-res description of these health care debates breaks the debaters
into two sides: "pro-market" and "anti-market," depending upon their
preferred means of health care delivery. (Others argue on behalf of
whatever configuration happens to obtain in their own country, but that
appears to be little more than sublimated nationalism.) The labels
represent not extreme ends of a spectrum — practically nobody in the
mainstream plumps for thoroughgoing privatization or nationalization —
but humps of a bimodal graph. Here are the lessons I've taken from
their debates:
If you profess to be for or against a concept, know more about that concept than its name.
There are sound reasons to condemn socialism if you know what socialism
is. If you don't, there aren't. The same goes for free markets, where
capitalism's war of all against all and redness in tooth and claw have
sunk into the realm of desperate rhetorical cliché. And don't forget
the important question of whether what you're talking about actually is socialism or a free market, which brings me to implore you...
Do not confuse abstractions with realities, and vice versa.
Neither straight-on socialism nor pure free markets really exist in the
United States, so it's not exactly a rich field for examples of either.
Some anti-market debaters hold up the U.S.'s ad hoc health care
structure as an example of what's wrong with free health care markets,
but few of its observable mechanisms suggest anything like a truly
libertarian free market. It's similarly misleading to invoke the
"socialism" of a Sweden or a Finland or what have you while leaving
"socialism" undefined. I tend to agree with Paul Graham on this count:
I
think the fundamental question is not whether the government pays for
schools or medicine, but whether you allow people to get rich.
[ ... ]
Any
country that makes this choice ends up losing net, because new
technology tends to be developed by people trying to make their
fortunes. It's too much work for anyone to do for ordinary wages. Smart
people might work on sexy projects like fighter planes and space
rockets for ordinary wages, but semiconductors or light bulbs or the
plumbing of e-commerce probably have to be developed by entrepreneurs.
Life in the Soviet Union would have been even poorer if they hadn't had
American technologies to copy.
Finland is sometimes given as an
example of a prosperous socialist country, but apparently the combined
top tax rate is 55%, only 5% higher than in California. So if they seem
that much more socialist than the US, it is probably simply because
they don't spend so much on their military.
Americans on the anti-market side also display a persistent drift between, say, Sweden itself and their idea
of Sweden. A professor of mine once said to his class that Sweden
"offers free medical care to its citizens, of the highest quality." I
think he made more empirical (and empirically testable) claims in that
statement than he realized. We have much to learn from northern Europe,
but an unacceptable amount of anti-market people's claims about the
region have passed, unchecked, into cant.
Watch your analogies. Sweden is often the x in a common anti-market lament: "x developed country has universal health care, so why doesn't the United States?" (France also pops up as x,
though its system isn't quite what's normally thought of as "universal
health care.") As any analogy, this one presumes that its subjects are
comparable. But are the tiny, near-homogeneous nation and the gigantic,
ultradiverse, relatively ahistorical superstate really alike on any
meaningful dimension? A U.S.-France comparison is vaguely ludicrous; a
U.S.-Sweden becomes highly abstract almost immediately.
The idea of "American exceptionalism" gets dismissed as jingoistic nonsense, but it's not the idea that America is exceptionally awesome;
it's the idea that America is, by the standards of the world's
nation-states, starkly, observably different. (Which could mean worse,
if you're into that.) You should take as much care recommending the
transplantation of one country's institutions to America as you would
recommending the transplantation of one species' organs into another.
Your great data are not convincing.
If you find yourself winging histograms at your interlocutor, the
campaign for heart and mind is probably lost, no matter how much they
support your point. I realize, data wonks, that this isn't how you
think it should be, but cast back in your memory to the no doubt
countless times you've seen someone — anyone — convinced that way. Your
only hope is to perform your conversions in an extra-debate setting,
where all participants aren't primed to shield their ideological
identities as they would their scrota.
That said, most of the
data I see wielded doesn't actually address opponents' concerns.
Numbers about spending won't matter to someone who cares only about
quality, numbers about insurance coverage won't matter to someone who
cares only about delivery speed and numbers about R&D won't matter
to someone who cares only about universality.
We do not live in a morality play.
The useless concept of desert sees a lot of action in health care
debates. Depending upon which accusatory screeds you read,
anti-marketers believe that everyone everywhere deserves health care
and pro-marketers believe that people only deserve the health care they
can pay for. While I doubt that many on either side actually hold those
explicit beliefs, that's not my point: desert is so objectively
unrootable that discussions about it don't devolve into shouting
matches, they effectively begin as shouting matches. Claim that
a group does or does not deserve health care and your evidence
necessarily amounts to nothing more than "says me." The rebuttal will
be no better.
Your tragedies are anecdotes. It's hardly rare for a health care debate to feature sob stories presented as support. Hell, even Malcolm Gladwell did it in the New Yorker.
But are someone's uninsured grandmother's death from an untreated gum
infection or a freeloader cousin's overuse of the emergency room
relevant data points to a discussion of public policy? Maybe if the
public consists of five people. Otherwise this anecdotal strategy is a
naked stab at emotion, terribly intellectually insulting to those you
try to use it on. If the debate is about your cousin or grandmother, fine. If it's not, leave them out of it.
You do not have the hand of god. The first of the four horsemen of futility
frequents health care debates like they were singles bars. "Should the
United States have single-payer health care?" and "Should the United
States had a totally free health care market?" are questions at such a
distance from reality as to not be worth asking. If two omnipotent
superbeings who actually possess the power to instantiate these
conditions by pure will are the ones debating, different story. But
brother, we ain't omnipotent superbeings. (My recommendation, not that
you asked for one, is to discuss possible changes at the margin
instead.)
Don't appeal to your imagination. The second
horseman has a taste for the health care speakeasy as well. He goes in
for more pedestrian stuff, though: made-up disaster scenarios,
libertopias, the aforementioned fantasy Swedens.
Begin debating at step one, not step ten.
The most offputting characteristic of health care debates is their
tendency to skip important establishing steps. As a result,
foundational questions such as "Why do you regard health care as
different from other consumer goods like food or water?" are never
addressed, rendering the conflict insoluble. The key with any
discussions of this kind is to begin from a common set of premises,
however basic; otherwise, you'll never identify the real nature of the
disagreement.