I picture the economists who take part in the New York Times guest essays as people wearing loincloths, with painted faces, making their predictions after consulting with the sun king, following three days of fasting in the mountains, whilst feeding only on hallucinogenic mushrooms. The economist of reference there is Paul Krugman, famous for his political activism and scientific sloppiness, but often the others are even more insane than he is, if that is possible. I just read the essay “I’m an Economist. Don’t Worry. Be Happy,” and I fear that Justin Wolfers, its author, is a cross between Paulo Coelho and Nostradamus.
If I understood it correctly, the central thesis of the article is that inflation is an optical illusion. That is, things are not more expensive, simply “the world has a lot more zeros in it, but nothing has really changed.” So you don’t have to worry about anything. Besides, I’m guessing that Wolfers figures that as he was taught at school that zero has no value, it doesn’t matter if you have one zero or 1,000 zeros, because they all amount to nothing.
The professor defends that the state of panic that is settling in the public opinion due to inflation can be put down to some kind of mental disorder. Yes, he believes that those who have economic anxiety should go to their therapist to get help controlling their nervous system. According to the postmodern left, this is how things look: Biden, who has one foot in the grave and one foot in a parallel universe, does not need to see a specialist. Those who have “climate anxiety” are not crazy. Those who consider it reasonable to amputate their testicles to try to change sex do not need the help of a psychologist. On the other hand, the worker or the housewife who can no longer do the shopping they used to do at the supermarket because, quite simply, they cannot afford to thanks to the wild inflation that half the West is experiencing, needs to go to a psychiatrist to be convinced that it is not so bad, that it is just a matter of a few more unimportant zeros.
It was foreseeable that it would come to this. The Left has gone mad to the point of no return. It is no longer enough for them to deny reality, or to mold it to their interests, they need to go one step beyond and, as happens with lunatics and drunks, blame everyone else for their delusions. The truth is that the madness that ails the progressives of our time is unhealthier than that which afflicted past progressives. Traditional crazies, like traditional drunks, used to tell the truth. But the insanity of the left does not involve truth-telling. In fact the New York Times essayist asserts that inflation is unimportant because wages are also going up just as commodities are going up. I bet a glance at your monthly paycheck is enough to disprove such a biased and mutilated assessment of the economic situation. All to avoid telling things like they are: that Biden is failing again and again in his attempts to contain inflation, and that, yes, the U.S. economy, like that of several large European countries that only just manage to survive under socialist or social democratic regimes, is the victim of a silent depression that left-wing governments insist on denying, as if that could change reality.
I miss those madmen and drunks of yesteryear. Those who spoke the truth even if it was politically incorrect. Today’s progressive madness is more like a diabolical possession than a true mental derangement. They act like propaganda armies, they lack critical sense, and their only obsession is to silence the dissenter; and if the dissenter is not flesh and blood but is in fact reality itself (as is the case of supermarket price tags), then they try to silence the truth.
An old Spanish joke, I don’t know if it has versions in other languages, tells of how a drunkard and a woman bump into each other on the street. The inebriated man spits out at her: “You are disgustingly ugly!” And the woman answers him angrily: “You are disgustingly drunk!” And the drunken man settles the dispute: “Yes, but I won’t be tomorrow!” As you can see, it is not so hard to show sanity even when you are crazy, nor to have a moment of lucidity in the middle of a drunken binge. Maybe our friend Wolfers should try it again. “Be happy” is the craziest advice I’ve ever heard from an economist. I wouldn’t be surprised if he read it on a coffee mug somewhere.
Translated by Joel Dalmau.
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