By Greg Rushford
May 22, 2020
NOTE TO READERS: This text is the second of three lectures I presented via Zoom to students at the Wakefield Country Day School in Huntly, VA, earlier in May. For the first lecture, click here, or return to the main page and click on the link. I will post the third lecture in a couple of days.
Welcome to the second of three classes on what international-trade economists call Political Economy. This is the same basic presentation that I’ve made over the years in college economics classrooms. But if it sounds rather daunting to present college-level material to high school students, it shouldn’t be.
As you would know from last week’s class, the fundamental concepts are not difficult. Anyone can get this, simply by understanding a few simple economic definitions, and by looking around at what’s in their daily lives.
For sure, looking around us here in Rappahannock County, Virginia, doesn’t immediately suggest that global trade flows touch our lives at all. We are in the boonies, tucked away in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains — only 70 miles west of downtown Washington, D.C., but in the middle of nowhere.
Rappahannock County is about the same size as Singapore, but instead of nearly six million people, there are only about 7,300 of us. Why, we don’t even have one stop light on our quiet country roads!
But look more closely — look to the Virginia Inland Port, about twenty minutes to our north, just outside the little town of Front Royal. You’d be surprised at the amount of international cargo that goes through Customs at this inland port. The Front Royal port handles twice the cargo traffic as do the major U.S. southern seaports of Miami and Jacksonville, combined.
Many of the goods come into Front Royal’s customs zone from nearby Dulles International Airport, an hour’s drive from the East, on Interstate Highway I-66.
The imports also come into Front Royal — by rail and interstate highways — from the international terminals at Norfolk, VA, the big U.S. deep-water seaport some 220 miles to our southeast. And then they are sent on to other major cities whose economies also depend upon international trade: Atlanta to the south, Chicago to the west, and so on. And of course, the same international products are here in Rappahannock County.
My wife and I often look around our American-made home and marvel at how the international marketplace is at our front door. Literally. That door comes from mahogany that was harvested in Honduras and finished in Costa Rica. Our cherry-wood floors come from Brazil. We’ve got lights made in China. A granite kitchen countertop from India. Some fixtures in our bathrooms come from Italy — and much more.
So, if trade is obviously so important to our lives, why do many Americans believe it is “unfair?”
The heart of the matter begins to be seen in just two economic definitions that are in Economics 101 college textbooks. The first is Price Discrimination. Second: International Price Discrimination. The terms are presented in a rather dry fashion. But they aren’t dry to those who understand the politics that fuel the antagonisms toward trade.
Price Discrimination involves products that are sold at lower prices in some markets than others. Widgets might be sold at cheaper prices in, say, South Dakota than in Manhattan, based on calculations that New Yorkers might pay more.
Or they even might be sold below their costs of production. You’ve perhaps noticed so-called “loss leaders” in your supermarkets: items priced so cheaply that they entice shoppers into the stores. This is often called cutthroat pricing. Economists tend to praise such ruthless pricing wars, as they encourage healthy competition.
Only if Price Discrimination becomes predatory, in the legal antitrust sense of the term, do economists frown. Predation happens when, say, a large corporation with deep financial reserves deliberately prices products so low as to drive the little guys out of business. Then the big guys are left with so-called “market power,” or monopoly power — so they can raise prices on helpless consumers who don’t have a choice. The antitrust laws are meant to police such uncompetitive economic behavior.
An automobile could be made in Detroit, and then sold more cheaply to Americans who live in Alabama, for example. But what if the Canadians make automobiles, and export them to Americans at prices that are lower than in Canada? Now we’re talking about International Price Discrimination.
International Price Discrimination is the same as domestic Price Discrimination. Except here, the goods cross international borders and are considered as having been “dumped,” and politically “unfair.”
Such “unfairly dumped” goods can be taxed, with high tariffs. Here in the United States, this happens a lot. Domestic concerns that can’t match the prices of their foreign competitors find themselves good lawyers. Those lawyers then file “anti-dumping” lawsuits with the U.S. government, which investigates and decides whether to tax the “unfair” imports with tariffs.
(Those “anti-dumping” cases are considered by the U.S. Commerce Department and the International Trade Commission, each of which has bureaucracies to consider various aspects of anti-dumping complaints by looking at the costs of production.)
Domestic advocates of the anti-dumping laws frame their arguments using antitrust-like language of predatory pricing. Politicians often misleadingly call International Price Discrimination “Illegal Dumping.” It’s in fact not illegal — or unfair — to price, say, automobiles or bicycles, you-name it, at lower prices in some countries than the home market. The item to which International Price Discrimination is applied, again, is just subject to being taxed. The rationale is more political than economic. And over the years, the cries of “unfair trade” have landed at the heart of the debate over whether international trade is a good thing, or not.
Here’s how this works.
I first began to understand the emotional world of anti-dumping litigation almost exactly thirty-six years ago to this week, around Mother’s Day, 1984. American flower growers were upset that Colombia was exporting roses to U.S. markets at low prices. Prices that rose growers in, say, Michigan, couldn’t match. That was unfair, the American rose lobby complained.
So the U.S. rose growers hired lawyers to petition the federal government to put high tariffs on the import competition from Colombia.
Tariffs, of course, are taxes imposed on American businesses that import foreign products. American consumers who buy the foreign goods are taxed again when importers pass along their extra costs in the form of higher prices. The American rose growers hoped that higher tariffs on Colombian roses would allow them to keep prices high.
I took the roses story to the CBS Evening News in May of 1984: The Rose you Buy for Mother’s Day is Part of an International Trade War. That was when I realized that economics could be easily explained to normal Americans who have never heard of price discrimination.
The economic principle in the Colombian flowers “dumping” case was what the famous economic theorist David Ricardo — you’ll hear his name in your first college economics course — called comparative advantage. Rough translation: Countries export products that they are better at making than their trading partners. They import products that others make better.
This isn’t rocket science. In the roses case, the Colombians’ comparative advantage was — sunshine. Simply tropical sunshine that nourished rose beds, for free. By contrast, rose growers in places like Michigan had to pay the high costs of electricity necessary to heat greenhouses in cold weather. The American rose growers thought that was unfair. They thought that the rest of us should pay far higher prices to keep them in business.
The American petitioners lost the rose-dumping case in 1984. It’s easy to argue that that was a sensible economic outcome; just go into your local grocery store and see those wonderful flowers from Central America, offered at affordable prices. And trade is a two-way street: Colombian buy American machinery, cereals, various electrical and electronic goods, and more.
Fast forward from the 1980s, and today there are hundreds of such “dumping” cases in which globally uncompetitive American industries have successfully sought high tariffs on too many products to mention here.
Many of these mini-trade wars have involved various types of steel: pipes, tubes, wire, hot-rolled steel, cold-rolled steel, and so on. There have been anti-dumping fights over bicycles, pencils, nails, bedroom furniture, candles, softwood lumber, manhole movers — and even something called extruded rubber thread, which is the rubber-like stuff that puts the snap in your underwear.
Seafood products including crawfish, catfish, salmon, and shrimp have their own anti-dumping politics.
American catfish farmers from states such as Mississippi and Arkansas were upset that they couldn’t compete with catfish from Vietnam — so upset that they persuaded the U.S. Congress to make it illegal to call catfish from Vietnam, “catfish.” When you go into the seafood section of your supermarket, check out “swai,” or “basa,” or “tra” — ways to say “catfish” in Vietnamese.
The idea was to make the affordable Southeast Asian catfish look perhaps too scary to eat. That didn’t work, as “Basa” sounded, well, exotic and interesting, to American consumers.
Then the word was spread that foreign catfish is unhealthy. When nobody got sick, the American catfish lobby’s lawyers persuaded the U.S. government to hit the tasty foreign fish with anti-dumping tariffs. While the Vietnamese exports to America then slowed for awhile, the Chinese saw an opening and started to sell us their catfish. Economists call that: trade diversion. Erect high tariff walls on imports from one country, and exporters in other countries will take the advantage.
Or take shrimp. Americans catch wild shrimp off coastlines that stretch down the Atlantic Ocean from the Carolinas to Florida, and then onto Louisiana and Texas along the Gulf of Mexico. Problem is, they can’t harvest enough shrimp even to supply one national U.S. grocery chain such as Costco. There isn’t enough American wild-caught shrimp to supply Red Lobster restaurants nationwide, or any other nationwide restaurant chain.
It takes foreign shrimp, mostly of it grown on farms in twenty-some countries around the world, to supply the shrimp you buy in your grocery stores. When I was young, living in a small city in Illinois, I didn’t get fresh shrimp until our family took a vacation to Florida when I was about eight. Now, thanks to international freight services, fish dealers all across the United States sell fresh imported seafood from everywhere to Americans, every day.
That’s what trade does when free markets work properly. It creates winners.
But that’s only one side of this story.
International trade also creates losers.
Never forget this. We’re talking about people with real lives here. People who lose their jobs through no fault of their own, but because they had worked in industries that no longer could compete globally.
We could talk all day. Tell a steelworker in Ohio or Pennsylvania whose mill is shut down to praise economic efficiency and just move on with his life. Tell those steelworkers whose factories move to Mexico to appreciate the economic efficiencies.
Tell women who have worked for generations in textile mills in the Carolinas that they should go to community college or enter various training programs where they would learn to do something else. Tell catfish farmers in the Mississippi Delta that they should realize that their competitors in the Mekong Delta in Southeast Asia can offer the same fish to Americans, at lower prices. You won’t get far. Change may be necessary, but it’s often wrenching.
The losses from global competition can shake entire communities. I’ve been in declining steel towns in Pennsylvania and West Virginia to see Stand up for Steel rallies. Angry people came for miles around: the unemployed workers, their families, high-school bands, mayors, and even preachers who railed against foreign steel.
(But then again, even that story wasn’t so simple. One CEO of the local steel mill in Wheeling, West Virginia, stirred the crowd by shouting that the foreigners could take their steel and “shove it where the sun don’t shine.” But when I later went to his office, it turned out the same CEO had also been busy doing profitable business with his Korean steel-making partner. In political economy, where people fight over money and jobs, things are often not quite what they appear.)
We are talking about a political-economic problem that nobody has ever been able to answer satisfactorily. The Luddites in the 19th century tried to prevent new machinery being brought into their mills that would throw some workers out in the streets. The blacksmiths were trapped when automobiles began to replace horses. Whenever there is rapid progress in technology and science that demands change, the lives of decent people will be upended. Not everyone will be able to cope, without help.
Next week in Class Three, we’ll talk about how these fights over money and jobs are handled in the World Trade Organization, the international institution based in Geneva, Switzerland. The WTO presides over the rules of international trade. This institution’s smooth functioning is absolutely crucial to the health of the global economy. And it is currently in danger, thanks to parochial politics in key WTO member countries.
So bring your thinking caps next week, as there are big issues here. They will be with you for the rest of your lives. Hopefully these classes that introduce International Political Economy will help you think them through yourselves.