Dude, Where's My Subsidy?

If you ever took an economics class you probably learnt a lot about subsidies, tariffs and quotas and drew dorky supply-demand charts to show the theoretical impact of these on consumers, producers and the economy. But few of us were ever told stories about the actual effect of subsidies, tariffs and things like that, on real people.

Well, now may be a good time to find out.
I have been closely following the current debate in the U.S. Congress over government programs that have been assisting farmers in America for years.

Here are some facts:

The U.S. government’s farm subsidy program (i.e. financial support to farmers in America) in effect deny millions of people in poor countries a chance to survive in the global economy. U.S. farm policies have been around since the Depression era when farmers really did need the help. But due to sheer government negligence in upgrading policies for changing times, as well as due to the power of some fierce agricultural lobbies, these subsidies have remained to this day.

So how do they affect people in poor countries?

When subsidies are given to U.S. farmers, they are able to produce more rice, sugar, cotton or wheat than they would normally be able to produce given the regular prices of inputs. As a result, over-production takes place, and the world prices of these commodities are artificially lowered (remember that as supply goes up, prices goes down!), which means that farmers in poor countries like Mali, Laos or Cambodia are not able to get a fair price for these same products when they are sold on the world market.

Quite obviously, the governments of these tiny countries also don’t have the same-sized war chest as the U.S. government that would enable them to help their own farmers with subsidies. As a result, farmers in poor countries suffer, or even get priced out of the market.

The primary justification given by the U.S. government for providing support to farmers is that it is necessary to protect small-holder farming families which are unable to deal with the high costs of inputs, such as tractors, pesticides etc.

However, the facts show that subsidies overwhelmingly go to the largest farmers and agribusinesses in the United States. According to the Environmental Working Group, between 1995 and 2005, the largest 4 percent of farms garnered half of farm subsidy payments, while the largest 10 percent pulled in 73 percent.

Important note: these large agribusinesses are also important contributors to the political campaigns of elected officials from farm states.

Although the domestic rice market in the United States is saturated, the U.S. government continues to subsidize rice that the U.S. sells in the world market. Rice producers are among the biggest beneficiaries of the U.S. farm program.

Meanwhile, rice is a staple in the diets of half the world, in countries like Cambodia, Bangladesh and other countries, and an important symbol of rural self-sufficiency and national identity. Subsidized rice provides a deathblow to farmers in Asia that don’t stand a chance against the mighty U.S. Treasury.

Several groups, under the banner of Alliance for Sensible Agricultural Policies (ASAP), including fiscal conservatives, anti-poverty activities and nutritionists, are fighting to get rid of the subsidies that distort the market once and for all. Let us hope they are successful.

Seeing Ourselves

“Where are you frrrom??” is a common question asked of me by taxi drivers in the city. The next question that often follows: “Are you Muslim??” For some reason, this usually sends my eyes darting searchingly for their IDs, which are on display above them. This lets me know that they are Muslim.

Although by now I should be accustomed to this sort of interrogation, both the direct verbal form by cab drivers, and occasionally by restaurant waiters, as well as the indirect, visual form by airport officials when they see my last name (and right before X-tra screening), the question still jolts my senses.

Some of us, who relish living in a society organized around liberal principles do not enjoy being queried in this manner by utter strangers. Coming from acquaintances, it may be a different matter. For a while I assumed that the source of my discomfort was in the fact that there is a certain tone of judgement in the way the query is conducted. It may be relevant to note here that I don’t wear hijab.

But my unease is wrapped in some other feelings that, for a while, I couldn’t quite get to.
In his recent book about identity politics, Amartya Sen remarkably arrived at the root of these feelings. He explained how the “solitarist approach” to human identity, where individuals are seen as members of only one group, can often lead to bewilderment.

“Bewildered.” The word that most accurately describes my status in these situations.
Sen’s view is that we are happiest when the myriad identities within us are recognized. (He also goes on wonderfully about how the narrow perception and manipulation of identity can be used to instigate violence etc etc etc, but this is not a book review.)

Sen was in Washington last October. I sat in awe as he spoke about how communitarian notions of identity have sometimes corrupted policy, and diminished the scope for individual freedom. Each of his words rang true to me. They reminded me of scenes from my daily life, where at different times I wanted to be different things, but was assigned…some other identity.
Last week, in a cab somewhere between McPherson Square and Dupont Circle I found myself being pointedly asked again by the driver: “Are you Muslim?” I glanced at his dubious-looking brows in the rearview mirror for a second before replying: “Yes.”

He continued for a little while….something about our relationship with Allah and our “deen”. At that time I went from being “The Muslim Woman” to “The Woman Looking for Change in her Wallet” so I was only half-listening.

When we reached our destination he turned around in his seat, looked me squarely in the eyes and concluded: “Also, please make sure you marry a Muslim man.”

Bangladesh's Development Syndrome

Also read this at: Addafication

There is an enviable constituency for Africa in the United States. One that is designed to mobilize attention and resources to be directed towards every major issue that plagues the continent. Whether it be the AIDS epidemic, food crisis or human rights violations, NGOs, interest groups, movie-stars and policymakers are leading the fight against them head-on.

Indeed, Africa needs all the attention and help it can get. Whereas a few African countries have made progress in the past 15 years on economic growth, debt reduction and governance, progress in others is still severely inadequate, and the West should help.

What is regrettable though is that when it comes to foreign assistance and/or policy, the U.S. focus on Africa serves to sideline some other very poor countries. Of the 50 UN-designated Least Developed Countries (LDCs), 33 are in sub-Saharan Africa. The rest are largely Asian countries, some of them small island states. Of these, Afghanistan, Bangladesh and Cambodia are the more populous states with pretty incredible development challenges.

The per capita incomes in one or both of these countries are smaller than those of some African LDCs, such as Mauritania, Angola or Lesotho. Despite this, NGOs, policymakers, and the cadre of interested parties mentioned above have a tendency to ignore, or at best minimize, the problems of very poor, but non-African, LDCs such as Bangladesh or Cambodia. (Afghanistan, meanwhile, gets lots of attention due to the urgency of creating an intervention success story.)

The fact is, while Africa is in truly desperate shape, there are far more people living in severe poverty in places like Bangladesh or Cambodia than in some of the African countries combined.
In Bangladesh’s case, recent accomplishments such as the ability to withstand clothing trade competition from China, self-sufficiency in food production, and social innovations such as micro-finance have been a boon. But somehow, they seem to be falsely projecting an image of our nation as one that is no longer in need of foreign attention or help.

Meanwhile, a Reuters newsflash:“Bangladesh has slashed its annual development program for this fiscal year by 15 percent to 220 billion taka (USD 3.18 billion) because of hefty loan repayments and poor aid inflows, officials said Jan. 30.”

My point is not that we should seek to make donor countries and NGOs see us as perpetual victims. Rather that it is important for them to keep things in perspective and see our impressive achievements as examples in their own right, and not as reasons to graduate us (unempirically) from our low-income status.

For example, today at a Washington gathering of international development wizards, a certain speaker, to my great surprise did not hesitate to mention Bangladesh and Chile in the same breath as examples of progress.

Note: While Bangladesh’s growth rates over the past few years have been quite remarkable, Chile’s national income per capita is slightly higher than BRIC countries (or emerging economies) like Brazil or Russia.

Perhaps it is time for Bangladeshis to build a well-oiled machine similar to the constiutuency for Africa

The Story of Our T-shirts

Also read this at Adda-fication

When we throw on our T-shirts, we rarely ever think about all the elements of this piece of garment. Who made it? Where did it come from? If we do ever think about our T-shirts, most us think about how cool we look based on what’s scribbled across the front: “Chicago Bulls,” "I [Heart] NY,” or “Life Sucks” or “I Hate Bush.”

In the nineties, socially conscious college students often gave thought to their T-shirts. Led on by the famous (or infamous, depending on who you ask) anti-sweatshop and anti-child labor movements, they would protest outside libraries, inside student unions, and write fiery letters to Wal-Mart executives to stop buying clothes from poor countries.

By the 2000s, the crescendo over child labor and working conditions in the apparel factories of poor countries like Bangladesh seemed to have calmed down, partly because many things in America operate on a "aajke ase, kaalke nai" basis, i.e. "here today, gone tomorrow", and partly because some apparel companies actually started paying closer attention to labor standards in order to avoid getting lampooned into oblivion. But the issue hasn’t disappeared altogether, and could come back to town any time for another party.

Throughout the protests in American colleges, throughout the political roller-coaster rides in Bangladesh, and pushing through years of economic plight, Bangladesh continued to make T-shirts. Lots of them. Thanks to our excess supply of workers who are often willing to embrace wearisome manufacturing jobs, our easy access to garment materials, pretty decent industry management, and other factors, the Bangladeshi garment industry has flourished and has gained a strong foothold in the country.The industry now brings in billions of dollars, supplies 75 percent of our export earnings, provides the livelihoods of 2 million young women, and is generally a sunny spot in the country economy.

Yet, few people in the West want to see the Bangladeshi garment industry in this light, and chosen to forget the early economy of the United States when child labor was considered a necessity, and factory conditions weren’t exactly dandy.Some have even launched bizarre “Buy USA” consumer campaigns, pretending that any Western country could, for a second, compete to make T-shirts with any low-wage country where throngs of hungry workers clamor for T-shirt-making jobs to avoid getting pulled into a drilling workshop or into the sex industry. Yes, we are talking about those familiar low-wage countries where people live on less than $2 a day, there is no welfare, no social safety net, and no Democrats to argue for entitlement programs.

Perhaps that is why, in spite of vigorous efforts to shield U.S. apparel-making jobs from poor countries with the help of a quota regime, the numbers of U.S. apparel workers have shrank from 1.4 million to 270,000.

We should, of course, work towards a Bangladesh where young members of families who are below 12 or 14 would no longer need to go to work, and respect for human rights would run through people’s veins. But in the meantime, those of us in the U.S. of A and other Western places who may find ourselves in casual conversations with friends on this topic, need to tell those well-intentioned friends that their efforts are much better spent persuading companies to improve factory conditions, rather than persuading them to stop buying clothes from very poor nations.

At least many of the friends I’ve spoken to, have stopped peeking at T-shirt labels before making buying decisions.

A letter from school

I came across an email in my parents' Inbox that I had sent during my sophomore year. Reading it I remembered that there are things I don’t miss about my college days:

Email dated October 21 1999:

hey, how are you all doing? i am doing very....uh, hot, just at this moment because i am sitting in a heavy sweater in an over-heated room. outside, it's cold.

today is saturday and not much is going on. i woke up, went to work, and gave a campus tour to a giant group of 25 people. i had to be at work before the dining hall opened so didn't really get a chance to eat. so far i've had about 10 chocolate fudge cookies, so now i am feeling a little strange.

this weekend is homecoming weekend, meaning alumni coming to visit campus, so a lot going on. there is a football game and unbelievable crowds. there is also a craft fair going on in the fieldhouse, looked fun when i was over there with my campus tour. but i'll probably curl up and study for a major exam this week. we have just about covered 2400 years of history, so i will need to study quite a bit. and oh, write a paper (aaaarrrgh).

naveem and farzeen are going to visit farheen at Smith this weekend. i'm jealous.

oh, i got my ticket yesterday, and i will mail you he itinerary soon.
i should be reaching dhaka on Dec 23. well i should go and study now, mail me soon.
~malina

Free Booze

Well that title got your attention, didn't it?

I went to get a smoothie today at a place on 17th and L and the guy taking orders asked me if I wanted a "free boost." You see, they give you the option of adding pseudo-nutritional boosts for free to your drink that go by names such as "power-bek," "immuni-bek"and "intelli-bek," and which are cumulatively known as "Robeks." Pretty good marketing idea--and in fact, unknowingly a GENIUS idea because when the guy asked if I wanted a "free boost," I thought he was asking if I wanted free booze(!) Now who is going to say no to that?

In the end I think my free power-bek booze...i mean boost, got me pretty charged up for the rest of the day, though the effect was probably merely psychological (think placebo).

Go Rrrrrobeks!!

Funniest Office Memo

This is by far the most amusing memo sent at my place of work:

"Whoever stuck that %$@!#*&^$%#$* Yankee cap over my Mets cap in my office can come and collect it personally."

Mis--what?

The word in the dictionary for a woman-hater is a misogynist. I just heard it being used the other day and we often hear it being used in common parlance. But what is the word for a man-hater? Apparently in some feminist circles the term "misadronist" is used to describe a man-hater; the Greek word "adro" means man. However, some linguists argue that this usage is flawed: misandronist, if it means anything, means someone who is against the idea of there being rooms or clubs reserved for men, in particular the men’s room in an ancient Greek house into which women could not go.

Therefore, to my astonishment, we have not yet come up with a commonly agreeable term for a man-hater, though I would wager that there are probably more man-haters than
women-haters on the planet.