By Kevin D. Williamson
Sunday, January 29, 2017
If you have spent much time in the more rarefied corners
of California, one thing will be obvious: The lifestyle associated with urban
progressivism can be very comfortable — if you can afford it. If you can’t —
well, the view from Santa Monica is very different from the view from Friant,
just as the view from Tribeca is very different from the view from Elmira in upstate
New York. Progressivism in the United States used to be a school of political
action, but today it is mainly a highly refined lifestyle — one that
Republicans may be on the verge of making a little more expensive.
It’s time for a blue-state tax hike.
Congressional Republicans and the Trump administration
will disagree about many things, but it is rare to find a Republican of almost
any description who will turn his nose up at a tax cut of almost any
description. As Robert Novak put it: “God put the Republican Party on earth to
cut taxes. If they don’t do that, they have no useful function.” And tax cuts
are coming. But there are two proposals in circulation that would constitute
significant tax increases — tax increases that would fall most heavily on
upper-income Americans in high-tax progressive states such as California and
New York. The first is a proposal to reduce or eliminate the mortgage-interest
deduction, a tax subsidy that makes having a big mortgage on an expensive house
relatively attractive to affluent households; the second is to reduce or
eliminate the deduction for state income taxes, a provision that takes some of
the sting out of living in a high-tax jurisdiction such as New York City (which
has both state and local income taxes) or California, home to the nation’s
highest state-tax burden.
Do not hold your breath waiting for the inequality
warriors to congratulate Republicans for proposing these significant tax
increases on the rich. Expect lamentations and the rending of garments, instead.
Slate economics
editor Jordan Weissmann, who is not exactly Grover Norquist on the question of
taxes, describes the mortgage-interest deduction as “an objectively horrible
piece of public policy that should be reformed,” and it is difficult to
disagree with him. It distorts the housing market in favor of higher prices,
which is great if you are old and rich and own a house or three like Bernie
Sanders but stinks if you are young and strapped and looking to buy a house. It
encourages buyers to take on more debt at higher interest rates than they
probably would without the deduction, and almost all of the benefits go to
well-off households in the top income quintile. It is the classic example of
upper-class welfare. And it has a nasty side, too: Those sky-high housing
prices in California’s most desirable communities serve roughly the same
function as the walls of a gated community or the tuition at Choate: keeping
the riff-raff out. Pacific Heights is famous for its diversity: They have all
kinds of multimillionaires there.
Geographically, those mortgage subsidies are not randomly
distributed. The mortgage-interest deduction is much more important to rich
people in San Francisco, where the median home price exceeds $1 million, than
it is to middle-class people in Tulsa, where the median home price is about
$110,000. In San Francisco, the median home costs 10.2 times the median
household income; in Houston, the median home costs 4.3 times the median
household income, a fact that probably will be of some interest if the
deduction is eliminated and housing prices readjust.
The current arrangement means, among other things, that
taxpayers outside the expensive, Democratic-leaning coastal metros are much
more likely to simply take the standard deduction than to itemize their taxes.
Put another way, the mortgage-interest deduction is a lot more important to
Nancy Pelosi’s constituents than to Mac Thornberry’s. Both Trump’s campaign tax
plan and reforms under discussion in the House call for raising the standard
deduction, which would make the mortgage-interest giveaway irrelevant to an
even larger majority of taxpayers. Trump’s plan also calls for putting a cap on
deductions — not just for mortgage interest but for all itemized deductions —
at $100,000. (The mortgage-interest deduction already is capped at a very
generous level, applying to interest on loans up to $1 million.) Eliminating or
reducing deductions is intended both to simplify the tax code and to offset some
of the revenue losses associated with other tax-reform ideas under discussion,
especially reducing the number of brackets and lowering the rates in those
brackets.
The best course of action would be to eliminate the
mortgage-interest deduction entirely over a relatively short period of time,
say five years. The National Association of Realtors (a.k.a. The
Committee to Re-Inflate the Bubble), the members of which make their
livings on sales commissions and which therefore favors higher housing prices
at all times, will howl. But it is difficult to make a compelling case that
subsidizing Lena Dunham’s mortgage on her $5 million Brooklyn apartment (or
helping out whoever took that $4.2 million Trump apartment off Keith
Olbermann’s hands) needs to be a top national policy priority.
The state-tax deduction is a slightly stranger beast.
In principle, there is something in state taxes that
federalism-minded conservatives should like: Most of us would prefer if the
main tax collectors in Americans’ lives were located in Austin or Tallahassee —
or even Sacramento — rather than in Washington. Fifty states with 50 different
tax regimes and 50 different ways of spending the money provide Americans with
lots of choices, lots of interstate competition, and 50 laboratories of
democracy in which to test different approaches to social problems. The question
of the California model vs. the Texas model need not ultimately be an issue of
right and wrong but simply one of different preferences: There are Oakland
people and there are Odessa people, and there is no reason to think that they
should have to live in the same way or that they should want to.
The problem is that allowing for the deduction of state
taxes against federal tax liabilities creates a subsidy and an incentive for
higher state taxes. California in essence is able to capture money that would
be federal revenue and use it for its own ends, an option that is not
practically available to low-tax (and no-income-tax) states such as Nevada and
Florida. It makes sense to allow the states to compete on taxes and services,
but the federal tax code biases that competition in favor of high-tax
jurisdictions. There is a certain kind of partisan Democrat who likes to sneer
that the rich blue states subsidize the poor red ones (which isn’t exactly
true; there’s a reason that there isn’t a big, expensive Air Force base in
Manhattan), but there is a great deal of cross-subsidy, too. Tax handouts such
as the state-tax deduction and the mortgage-interest deduction interact in
complex ways with state and local policies (the nice liberals in San Francisco
practice utterly ruthless economic segregation) to partly shift the burdens of
the progressive model away from the residents of our progressive metros.
The more you look at it, the more the parts of the
Republican tax mantra not having to do with rates
per se — simpler, fairer, flatter — appear to be wise. Of course, it would be
wiser still to cut federal spending down to the level of federal revenue (my
first choice) or to raise taxes enough to cover spending (second choice), but
nobody is going to talk seriously about that until there isn’t another option.
For the moment, though, Republicans give every indication
that they are loading up a big tax hike on the rich — one that the Democrats
will not enjoy very much at all. As someone once said, “Elections have
consequences.”
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