By Kevin D. Williamson
Thursday, October 01, 2020
‘Why did the individual mandate fail in its intended
purpose to increase enrollment?”
Chris Pope of the Manhattan Institute asks the question
in his very
insightful National Review column, an essay that has far more of
substance to say about health care than either of the grunting, sneering
buffoons we saw sniffing each other’s butts on Tuesday evening. With California
vs. Texas coming before the Supreme Court in November, the grievously
misnamed Affordable Care Act is once more before us, and its deficiencies — and
the deficiencies in attempts to address those deficiencies — are worth
revisiting not only for the light they shed on the still-critical issue of
health care but also for understanding what ails American government more
broadly.
The ACA individual mandate is a textbook example of bad
program design and implementation. Some people object to such mandates on moral
and constitutional grounds, and those concerns must be given due consideration,
but there is nothing wrong with an individual mandate as a purely pragmatic
matter. In the ACA, the mandate was intended to mitigate the problem of
“adverse selection” created by a different, much more popular mandate — that
insurance companies cover preexisting conditions at no additional cost. To use
the most hackneyed illustration: If you could buy fire insurance after
your house burned down, then you would have no real incentive to buy insurance
earlier. If you can get comprehensive coverage for serious illness after you
get sick for the same price and terms that you would have received had you
purchased the same insurance before getting sick, then you have no incentive to
buy health insurance until you are sick. The preexisting-conditions mandate
transforms health insurance into something other than insurance, which is a
financial product in which insurers charge a fee based on risk calculation and
in exchange offer financial benefits in the case of certain events. Properly
understood, you cannot insure against preexisting conditions, for the
same reason you cannot bet on a football game that already has been played.
The ACA began as an attempt to replicate the highly
regarded health-insurance system of Switzerland in the American context. The
Swiss system offers no reassuring generalities to ideologues: It is both
market-based and heavily regulated; it is not funded by taxes, but the
government lays a heavy hand on certain costs and business practices, notably
by mandating that the minimal insurance policy be offered by all firms on a
nonprofit basis. Consumers have a great deal of choice about what kind of
insurance they want to have, but they do not have any choice at all on the
matter of having it. Like the ACA regime, the Swiss system specifies a minimum
level of benefits, and it ensures that those with preexisting conditions are
neither excluded from coverage nor charged dramatically higher rates —
something that does not come up very often, because Switzerland achieves better
than 99 percent compliance with its individual mandate through a program of
ruthless enforcement. If you fail to sign up for coverage, the Swiss government
signs you up for a policy whether you like it or not, and then your new insurer
charges you for the premiums you would have paid during your period of
noncompliance, plus interest and penalties. Which is to say, the Swiss enforce
their individual mandate the way the U.S. government enforces almost nothing
save tax payments — and Uncle Sam reliably drops the ball on those, too.
The Obama administration, as Chris Pope notes, exempted
people with low incomes and the recently unemployed from the mandate — which is
to say, he exempted almost everybody who doesn’t have insurance already: Out of
the 30 million uninsured, the Obama administration exempted 23 million from the
mandate. The Americans who both 1) lacked insurance and 2) earned enough money
that their penalty would exceed $1,000 a year amounted to about 0.3 percent of
the population — 1.2 million people. And so it is not much of a surprise that
the mandate did not get these people to sign up or that the removal of the
mandate did not seem to have much effect on Americans’ willingness and ability
to purchase insurance. The mandate was toothless.
Because we have an election coming up, some people are
shouting “Health care is a right!”
while others are shouting that federal efforts to make insurance more
affordable are “Socialism!” That
kind of emotionally hyper-charged moralistic language almost always goes along
with policymaking incompetence, and it is put forward as a substitute for
thoughtful program design. It thwarts efforts to achieve consensus.
Consensus is a factor in good program design, too.
Consensus is not about good feelings or being nice to the people on the other
side of the aisle — it is a practical consideration, one that Barack Obama et
al. were, unfortunately, too arrogant to account for in 2009. The ACA system
was never going to be implemented as written, because there was no consensus
supporting the program. There were partisan divisions, obviously, but there
also were divisions within the party coalitions: It was Democratic interest
groups, notably labor unions, that opposed the so-called Cadillac tax and other
revenue-raising measures. It wasn’t Republicans in the pocket of Big Business
who worked so hard to eliminate the medical-devices tax — it was Senator
Elizabeth Warren, who just so happens to have a number of medical-device
manufacturers in her home state. Republicans are split about having the
government negotiate prescription-drug prices, reimportation, and other
marketplace interventions. Even continuing Democratic control of Congress would
not have saved the ACA from years of constant revision, because most Democrats
object to some of what’s in it and many Democrats object to it fundamentally,
preferring instead an NHS-style monopoly system. Democrats cannot even agree
among themselves about whether there should be private health insurance; it is
unlikely that they are going to be able to come to a consensus with more
market-oriented Republicans on the matter of health insurance.
Because we have a federal system with 50 states, a
federal government divided into three branches with the legislative branch
further subdivided, and strong constitutional constraints on government action,
it takes a high degree of consensus to get anything meaningful and stable done
on big national social-policy questions. Even smaller countries with less
social diversity and less robust constitutional constraints run into that
problem: In Sweden, for example, is the archetypal Nordic welfare state, but it
does not really have a national health-care system. It has a series of
regional and municipal programs, locally administered and mostly funded with
local taxes. Think about that: A country known for having effective
public-sector administration and very high taxes still finds it sensible to do
things at the local level, in spite of its having a population smaller than
that of Ohio. It is easier to achieve a relatively high level of consensus and
buy-in at the local level. That is part of the conservative case for federalism
— the United States is big enough to have both Greenwich, Conn., and Las Vegas;
Silicon Valley venture capitalists and Texas cotton farmers. And developing one
model of health-insurance regulation, one model of education, one
model of air-pollution regulation that serves the needs of all those very
different communities and comports with all their social and economic priorities
is close to impossible. The progressive mindset, which is trapped in an
outmoded factory model of society, favors uniformity and homogeneity in policy
and practice because it assumes that the economies of scale that are at work in
a steel mill or oil refinery also apply to education and health care.
Donald Trump missed many opportunities in the debate with
Biden, including the chance to respond intelligently to Biden’s criticism that
the Trump administration does not have a comprehensive national health-care
plan. Of course it doesn’t, so, of course, Trump insisted that it does. The
problem with a habitual, reflexive liar is that he cannot understand when the
truth is on his side. There is no consensus supporting a sweeping new national
health-care program: Republicans and Democrats disagree with one another, and
Republicans disagree with Republicans while Democrats disagree with Democrats.
With Trump in the White House and Nancy Pelosi in the speaker’s chair, there is
not much point in either of them advancing a comprehensive national health-care
plan — which is probably the wrong way to make health-care policy, anyway.
On the other hand, there are real opportunities for
discrete, piecemeal reforms. There is, for example, very broad support for
allowing the reimportation of prescription drugs, a reform for which there is a
pretty good libertarian argument and an idea that was supported by both the
Trump campaign and the Hillary Rodham Clinton campaign in 2016. (Trump
mentioned this in the Tuesday debate.) We could probably take some pressure off
pharmaceutical prices by changing the way Medicare and Medicaid calculate
prescription-drug reimbursements. There are things that can be done.
The individual mandate failed because we never committed
to making it work. Committing to the mandate would have meant committing to
enforcement, committing to a relatively high level of accompanying subsidies
and some form of price control, and more. Putting the words into a bill and
then passing the bill doesn’t solve the problem. It can, as with the ACA, make
things worse.
We could have that conversation, if we wanted to. And,
sooner or later, we will have to.
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