Massive student-loan forgiveness is now a mainstream idea: Even Al Jazeera is on board

Around 45 million Americans owe a total of $1.6 trillion in student loans, and approximately 20 million of those debtors are not paying them back.  Betsy DeVos, President Trump's Education Secretary, admitted more than a year ago that only one out of four student borrowers was paying down principal and interest on their federal loans. "In the commercial world," DeVos observed, "no bank regulator would allow this portfolio to be valued at full, face value."  

So why not just forgive all this festering debt--debt that is preventing struggling Americans from buying homes, having children, or saving for their retirement?

That notion is now a mainstream idea in American politics. Senator Bernie Sanders got the ball rolling when he called for wiping out all this debt.  Senator Elizabeth Warren proposed something slightly less radical--forgiving student debt up to $50,000.  And Joe Biden, the Democrats' presumptive nominee for the Presidency, wants to forgive all debt owed by individuals who attended a public university or a historically black college (HBCU).

Even Al Jazeera, an Arabic-focused news organization, based in Qatar, wants to forgive all federal student loan debt.  America is experiencing its worst economic crisis since the 1930s, Al Jazeera reporters pointed out, and the U.S. needs to prioritize relief  for "people, not profit." Al Jazeera calls for canceling all student loan debt, which would "help those hit hard by the coronavirus pandemic to "rebuild their futures."

Writing off all federal student debt is not a crazy idea, especially, as I just said, a bunch of it isn't being paid back anyway. But does Congress have the political will to do it? I don't think so.

After all, the straightforward solution to this crisis would be to simply allow overwhelmed debtors to discharge their student loans in bankruptcy. Bills have been introduced in Congress that would accomplish just that, but those bills have gotten nowhere. 

I've said this before, and I will repeat it. Congress should allow insolvent Americans to file for bankruptcy and discharge their student loans like any other consumer debt: credit cards, car loans, and business obligations. 

And all Congress needs to do to accomplish this sweeping reform is to remove two words from the U.S. Bankruptcy Code: "undue hardship." It is the "undue hardship" language, after all, that the federal courts have interpreted so harshly, and which has denied bankruptcy relief to millions of honest student-loan debtors.

Of course, if Congress abolished the "undue hardship" standard, it would need to appoint a lot more bankruptcy judges to deal with a torrent of bankruptcy filings. And the judges would need to make sure that people who have the financial wherewithal to repay their loans don't fraudulently apply for bankruptcy relief.

In my view, calls to wipe out all student debt are irresponsible because politicians know this is never going to happen. Bankruptcy reform provides an orderly and fair way to give unfortunate student debtors a fresh start while guarding against fraud. 

Coronavirus bailouts for the casinos but nothing for harried student-loan debtors: Let'em eat cake!

Congress turned on the money spigot last month and spewed out cash to millions of people and businesses that were hurt by the coronavirus pandemic.

The airlines are getting bailout money, the casinos are eligible for aid, and corporations are accepting loans they don't need. AutoWeb, for example, got a $1.4 million federal loan and gave its CEO a $1.7 million bonus one week later.

Meanwhile, millions of Americans are burdened by federal student loans they can't repay.  More than a year before the coronavirus outbreak, Education Secretary Betsy DeVos publicly admitted that only one out of four student borrowers were paying down both principal and interest on their federal loans.  One out of five borrowers, DeVos disclosed, were delinquent on their debts or in default.

Now, with the unemployment rate hovering near 15 percent, and millions of hourly workers out of a job, college-loan debtors are struggling more than ever.

And what has the Department of Education done to assist harried student debtors? Not much.

DOE is giving college-loan borrowers a six-month deferment from making their monthly payments, and it won't assess interest on outstanding loans during that time. DOE has also temporarily stopped seizing wages, Social Security benefits, and tax refunds of people who defaulted on their federal student loans.

In other words, the Trump administration is shoveling big bucks to corporations, while it throws a few crumbs to college-loan borrowers.

Here's an illustration that shows just how meaningless the Trump administration's response to the student-loan crisis has been.

Laurina Bukovics borrowed $20,000 more than 30 years ago to obtain a bachelor's degree from Wisconsin University. Through the years, she made regular monthly loan payments except during times when DOE gave her deferments or forbearances due to her financial difficulties.

Over 25 years, Bukovics repaid $29,000 on her student loans—140 percent of what she borrowed. Nevertheless, by the time she showed up in bankruptcy court, her student-loan debt had grown to $80,000—four times what she had received from the federal loan program.

How much relief does a six-month moratorium on loan payments give to people like  Ms. Bukovics, who have been burdened by student debt for their entire adult lives and have seen their loan burdens double, triple, or even quadruple?

Hardly any relief at all.  The federal government has poured out trillions to alleviate the financial crisis that was triggered by the COVID-19 virus.  But much of this money has gone to corporations and businesses. 

When corporations ask the feds for money to help them get through the coronavirus pandemic, the government responds by saying, "Where do we send the check?"

On the other hand, when beaten-down student-loan debtors try to discharge their student debt in bankruptcy, the federal government almost always opposes relief. Ms. Bukovics, for example, was unemployed while she was in bankruptcy and living temporarily with a friend. She had no car, and she was so impoverished that she qualified for food stamps and Medicaid.

And what was the response by the Department of Education's debt collector to Ms. Bukovics's plight?  ECMC opposed bankruptcy relief because it believed Bukokvics was spending too much money on food.

Betsy DeVos's summer home

Laurina Bukovics v. ECMC: An Illinois woman took out $20,000 in student loans, paid back $29,000 and still owed $80,000

Laurina Kim Bukovics enrolled as a freshman at the University of Wisconsin in 1985 and graduated five years later. She took out about $20,000 in student loans to finance her studies. Over the years, she paid back $29,000--almost 140 percent of the principle. 

Nevertheless, 25 years after she graduated, Bukovics owed $80,000 on her student loans--four times what she borrowed.  Even though she had made 99 loan payments between 1999 and 2015—equivalent to more than eight years of twelve monthly payments-- her college-loan debt had quadrupled due to accumulating interest.

In 2015, Bukovics sought bankruptcy relief. Two years later, she filed an adversary proceeding to discharge her student loans. In 2018, while her adversary proceeding was pending, Bukovics lost her job.

Educational Credit Management Corporation, the federal government's ever-diligent debt collector, opposed a discharge of Bukovics's student-loan debt. ECMC argued that Bukovics could not meet the "undue hardship" test because she had not tried to maximize her income and not lived frugally.

In particular, ECMC accused Bukovics of spending too much money on food and not being diligent enough in looking for work.  Her job search was too narrow, ECMC claimed. 

In deciding Ms. Bukovics's case, Bankruptcy Judge Jack Schmetterer applied the three-part Brunner test to determine whether Bukovics could repay her student loans while still maintaining a minimal standard of living.  After conducting an extensive analysis of Bukovics's financial history, Judge Schmetterer ruled in her favor.

Clearly, Judge Schmetterer concluded, Bukovics could not maintain a minimal standard of living if she were forced to repay her student loans. After all, Bukovics was unemployed, temporarily living rent-free with a friend, receiving government nutritional assistance (food stamps), and getting her health care through Medicaid.

"Put simply, Judge Schmetterer wrote, given Bukovics's "frugal lifestyle and overall significant budget shortfalls, including the lack of money to provide for even basic needs, she would be unable to maintain a minimal standard of living if required to repay her student loan" (Bukovics v. ECMC, p. 189).

Judge Schmetterer rejected ECMC's arguments that Bukovics had spent too much money on food. On the contrary, he commented, spending $360 for sustenance over two to three months was not excessive.

In any event, Judge Schmetterer observed, ECMC's position "misses the point" (p.188). In the judge's opinion, ECMC was inappropriately looking for pennies that Bukovics might save when it was evident that her income was inadequate to meet her basic human needs.

Judge Schmetterer also rejected ECMC's claim that Bukovics had not looked hard enough for a job.  The judge pointed out that she had applied for over 200 positions over sixteen months and that several applications had led to job interviews (p. 187). Although the judge acknowledged that Bukovics voluntarily gave up her last job, she had testified that she had been pressured to quit and that her position had been eliminated after she terminated her employment.

Implications of the Bukovics decision

The Bukovics opinion is remarkable not so much because Laurina Bukovics won her case but for the fact that ECMC, the Department of Education's designated representative, would oppose her.

Ms. Bukovics borrowed $20,000 to obtain a bachelor's degree from a well-respected public university. She repaid $29,000 by making almost 100 monthly payments. Although financial circumstances forced her to skip monthly payments from time to time, the Department of Education acknowledged her hardship by granting her 10 deferments or forbearances.

Thirty years after graduating, Bukovics had reduced her debt by one dime. In fact, she owed four times what she borrowed. She was in her early fifties and out of a job.

What reasonable person would argue that Laurina Bukovics should not be freed of debt she can never repay?  And yet ECMC, representing the United States government, made that argument.

Today, the American economy is crippled by the coronavirus pandemic, and the nation's unemployment rate is 15 percent. Millions of people are living in circumstances similar to those of Ms. Bukovics.  Surely we need a more compassionate and efficient way of freeing destitute Americans from unmanageable debt than applying the outdated and callous Brunner test that examines how much an unemployed person spends on food.

References

Bukovics v. Educational Credit Management Corporation, 612 B.R. 174 (Bankr. N.D. 2020).

Judge Jack Schmetterer: ECMC missed the point

Living in the Long Emergency, by James Howard Kunstler: A book review

James Howard Kunstler, prolific blogger, novelist, and social commentator, has written a new book titled Living in the Long Emergency. You should read it. America's economy and social order are careening toward the abyss, and Kunstler explains why.

Living in the Long Emergency is an update of The Long Emergency, which Kunstler published in 2005. In his earlier book, Kunstler predicted the collapse of America's industrial economy due to the world's rapidly depleting supply of recoverable petroleum. 

In Living in the Long Emergency, Kunstler reiterates his earlier thesis and explains why the so-called fracking miracle for extracting shale oil has not altered his predictions. Fracking is far more expensive than traditional methods of extracting oil, Kunstler writes, and is only viable when it can be financed through low-interest rates and high oil prices.  Moreover, it is a short-term phenomenon that does not alter the fundamental reality of dwindling petroleum reserves.  

As Kunstler summarized the matter:

The shale oil "miracle," therefore, was a very impressive financial and technological stunt. In practical terms, it provided a means to pull forward from the future the last dregs of recoverable oil, so the US could live large for a few years longer. As [an] independent oil analyst . . . put it: Shale is a retirement party for the oil industry."

Kunstler's new book also includes a brutal analysis of contemporary American culture, which our oil-dependent economy helped foster. His assessment of American life is unrelievedly bleak. A casual survey of American culture, Kunstler writes, "reveals shocking degrees of neuroticism, delusion, dishonesty, and functional failure in culture."

Suburbia, made possible by cheap gasoline, has "produced yawning ugliness on the landscape, an epidemic of loneliness, family dysfunction, and a dismal cavalcade of mass shootings in public schools." In America's heartland, what we now call flyover country, Kunstler sees traditional American values eroded by opiate addiction, suicide, obesity, and unemployment.

Kunstler is particularly hard on American higher education. "The thinking class," he writes, squanders its waking hours on a quixotic campaign to destroy every remnant of American common culture and, by extension, a reviled Western civilization . . . ."

I've spent a good deal of my life shuffling around in American universities, including a three-year stretch in Harvard's re-education camp (cleverly disguised as Harvard's Graduate School of Education). Kunstler's summation of American higher education is spot on. 

Rather than try to summarize Kunstler's cogent analysis, I'll simply quote him:

It case you haven't been paying attention to the hijinks on campus—the attacks on reason, fairness, and common decency, the kangaroo courts, diversity tribunals, assaults on public speech and speakers themselves, the denunciation of science—here is the key takeaway: It is not about ideas or ideologies anymore. Instead, it's purely about the pleasure of coercion, of pushing other people around, of telling them what to think and how to act.

Kunstler's book includes a lot more provocative ideas and social analysis than I have touched on here. My brief review doesn't do it justice. But I fully endorse his fundamental conclusion, which I think is this: America has crapped in its own mess kit and doesn't have the money or the moral energy to repair the damage it has inflicted on itself.

A hundred years from now, I believe people will still be reading James Howard Kunstler's work to understand how America went so wrong. In my mind, he is one of the very few people who comprehend what has happened to us.

Recession or Depression? The people who make things are out of work while the people who do very little are still getting paid

What is the difference between a recession and an economic depression?

According to one adage, a recession occurs when a lot of people are thrown out of work. But a depression happens when you lose your job.

Based on those definitions, part of America is experiencing a recession due to the coronavirus pandemic, and another part is suffering through a severe economic depression.  By and large, the people who make things or provide services--factory workers, construction workers, mechanics, and restaurant employees--are unemployed. Many of these folks can't pay their rent or make their mortgage payments, and a lot of them have lost their health insurance.

But the media stars and politicians are still getting paid. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez said yesterday that unemployed people should boycott the economy and refuse to go back to work after the coronavirus shutdown ends.  That's easy for her to say. She's got a sweet gig as a congresswoman.

And then there's Don Lemon, the CNN reporter who mocked the Michigan protestors who lost their jobs due to the COVID-19 pandemic.  They're upset because they can't get a haircut, Lemon sneered.

Yeh, Don. Make fun of the unemployed. You aren't missing any meals.

It is clear to me that the political class and the media elites have no idea what is going on in America.  More than 20 million people are out of work, and millions more will be unemployed by the end of the summer.

And what does Congress do? It passes a relief bill that includes cash for the Kennedy Performing Arts Center and National Public Radio.

College students, who borrowed money to pay their tuition bills, are sent home in mid-semester; and what's the government response?  A brief respite from making student-loan payments. Meanwhile, Congress creates the Higher Education Emergency Relief Fund and distributes $14 billion to the nation's universities.

And it's not just the politicians and media who have insulated themselves from our Great Depression. People who hold government jobs are still getting paid even though many of them are doing very little. The Baton Rouge airport lost 90 percent of its passenger traffic due to the COVID-19 pandemic, but no airport worker has been furloughed. The feds sent the airport $8.4 million, which helps pay the salaries of people who have virtually nothing to do.

All the colleges and universities shut down this spring. Still, the presidents, vice presidents, associate vice presidents, deans, assistant deans, and Title IX compliance officers have seen no drop in their standard of living.

The professors are still getting paid as well, even though their classrooms are empty. They claim to be doing a bang-up job teaching online, but that's mostly bullshit. Students have sued five universities, demanding to get their tuition money back. They know they've been shortchanged.

A massive chasm separates the people who have lost their jobs from the people who are still working. And it will be no consolation for anyone when the unemployment rate hits 30 percent, and the suffering class becomes larger.

The day is coming, and it is coming soon when people who thought their jobs were secure will be unemployed. Even some tenured professors, who believe they enjoy bulletproof job security, will soon be applying for food stamps.

AOC: Don't go back to work, America! 

Coronavirus is a black swan event for regional public colleges: Many will be forced to close

A black swan event is an unexpected occurrence that has potentially devastating consequences. For higher education, the coronavirus pandemic is a black swan event.

Even before COVID-19 forced a shutdown of the national economy, American colleges were suffering from enrollment declines. Declining birthrates have led to a shrinking number of college-age individuals in recent years. Small liberal arts colleges and for-profit institutions were particularly hard hit.

Regional public colleges are also suffering. In Pennsylvania, for example, the state's system of public universities saw an enrollment decline of 20 percent between 2010 and 2019. One small public college, Cheyney University of Pennsylvania, saw its student body shrink by 61 percent to less than 1,000 students. Lock Haven University, another Pennsylvania public school, experienced an enrollment drop of 42 percent.

Thanks in large part to the coronavirus pandemic, the Pennsylvania State System of Higher Education projects that its 14 public universities will lose between $70 million and $100 million this spring. Some state legislators are calling for the system's small colleges to close.

Several Ohio public universities have also seen enrollment declines. Ohio University, Kent State University, the University of Toledo, and the University of Akron all lost students in 2019.

The University of Wisconsin's 26 two- and four-year institutions have recorded enrollment drops as well. UW's two-year colleges experienced a shocking 49 percent drop between 2010 and 2019.  One institution, UW-Plattville at Richland, a satellite campus of UW-Plattville, lost 58 percent of its students in just one year.  As reported by the Wisconsin State Journal, the University of Wisconsin's branch campuses had fewer students in 2019 than they did in 1973.

All these enrollment drops took place before the coronavirus pandemic showed up. And enrollment declines will surely accelerate in the wake of statewide stay-at-home orders that have triggered staggering drops in state tax revenues.

In the years to come, regional publ colleges all over the United States will be forced to close. Many states have far too many regional campuses. As public revenues decline in the wake of the COVID-19 crisis, the states simply can't afford to keep them open.

Moreover, increased opportunities for online learning are making regional campuses obsolete. If students are going to take their classes from home computers, there is no need to have a brick-and-mortar campus in their neighborhood.

College-bound high school graduates who decide to enroll at a public university in their home state should make every effort to get admitted to their state's flagship public university.  By and large, the flagships are seeing an uptick in their enrollments and can offer broader course offerings and student services than the regionals.

A few regional public institutions are thriving and maintaining their enrollment levels. The University of Louisiana at Lafayette, where I taught until I retired, is poised to remain viable even if the economic downturn persists. ULL has a nursing school, engineering programs, and computer-science offerings that make its degrees attractive in Louisiana's job market.

But in Louisiana and in most states, the small, marginal public colleges that were often their community's largest employer will be shutting down. For most students, it will not make sense to attend a regional school that may disappear before they pay off their student loans.

Growing up poor in western Oklahoma: The Kool-Aid years

My parents grew up in the Dust Bowl during the Great Depression. And when I say Dust Bowl, I'm not talking about the generic, dust-parched Midwest. 

I'm talking about THE Dust Bowl--the epicenter of an ecological disaster that struck the Texas panhandle, northwestern Oklahoma, and southeastern Colorado. Topsoil disappeared, wheat crops blew away, and cattle herds had nothing to eat.

More than 300,000 Oklahomans fled to California in the thirties, but my mother and father's families stayed put.  My mother went hungry from time to time. She saw her father's cattle shot by government agents who paid him a dollar per cow for the carcasses. 

The Depression went away when World War II started, but the war did not heal the Dust Bowl. As a child in the 1950s, I remember seeing sand dunes piled so high on the dirt road to my grandfather's farm that our family's 1950 Chevy could not get through.

When I was growing up in the 1950s, my family was still poor, as evidenced by the food we ate. My mother purchased margarine, never butter. We bought Miracle Whip because it was cheaper than mayonnaise, and we made grilled cheese sandwiches with Velveeta, not cheddar.

And we drank Kool-Aid for a treat--lots of Kool-Aid.  We favored a red flavor and mixed the powder with water and refined sugar. In those days, Kool-Aid only cost a nickel a packet. Hey, who needs Coca Cola?

Over time, my mother and father clawed their way into the middle class. My father had a government job with the Bureau of Indian Affairs, and his wages gradually crept up. He also farmed on the side and had a small lawngrass growing business.  He grew bermudagrass in a field at the Wichita Indian Agency, which he sold to people putting in new lawns. No one seemed to mind that he was running a private enterprise on federal property. 

But although we entered the middle class, my parents never got over the Great Depression. My mother's childhood was so seared by poverty that she remained convinced until the day she died that the next Depression was right around the corner. She was a modest food hoarder and had an impressive collection of vintage Jello boxes at the time of her death.

My father never went to the doctor. If he felt poorly, he treated himself from veterinarian supplies he kept on hand for his cattle.  He would cut off a piece of a three-inch-long bovine penicillin tablet and pop it into his mouth. 

As a youth, I scoffed at my parents' attitudes about money, their mystical belief in the value of hard work, and their deep disapproval of neighbors who lived more lavishly than they did. Who needs to drive a Mercury, they asked? After all, a Chevrolet is a perfectly respectable car. Who needs a color television when our Halicrafter black-and-white works just fine?

And now America faces another Great Depression.  Twenty-two million workers filed for unemployment over the past three weeks, and millions more will soon join them. And this time, when the bottom drops out from under our economy, we will be burdened with student loans, credit card debt, and 72-month car loans.

In short, we are going to suffer just like our parents and grandparents did in the 1930s. God grant us the grace to suffer in good spirits, to come to the aid of our family members and neighbors, and to keep our sense of humor.  We will be more cash-strapped in the years to come, but who knows? Life might be just as rich and satisfying even when there are no credit cards in our wallets.

Who needs Coca Cola?