Tag Archives: Economics

Global Tax Code

Okay. I’ve had it. This has been stewing in my mind long enough. I’m just going to say it.

Here’s the deal:  There’s a global market, but there’s no global polity. The UN is a forum for discussion, but not a re-distributor of wealth. It can’t systematically ensure justice. Cosmetically, maybe. As a band-aid polity, at best. But it’s not a polity.  It’s not a government.

Government, among other things, aims to ensure the fair distribution of resources. We live in a world where those in power agree that markets–and their careful political management–are the best way to distribute resources. This dogma is fine, I guess. Whether or not we like it, it’s not going anywhere.

But we need to think more politically in a global market context. Polity must catch up with markets. Injustice reigns otherwise.

We need a global tax code. We can’t have countries going around doing whatever the hell they want without paying into some kind of institution that at least aims to ensure equal distribution of the global social product.

Nations do this, sort of. Unfortunately, in terms of markets, nations haven’t meaningfully existed for some time. The global nation, whose only common culture is price fluctuation and exchange, has existed for a long time, but we haven’t given the strength it needs to play its proper role.

It’s not a question of whether this global nation exists. It’s a question of making it functional so we don’t destroy each other.

What’s does a polity look like for a nation whose culture is price and exchange? A tax code.

Here’s my proposal. It’s called “The Average is Best.”

Using some globally recognized measure of asset value (GDP is probably best), countries should be taxed according to their asset value’s variance from the world median average of that value.

The country with the median GDP pays no taxes. Countries that have more than the median pay a credit to the global polity proportionate to that excessive variance (the difference between the median GDP and the country’s GDP). Countries that have less than the median go into debt to the global polity proportionate to that deficient variance (again, same proportion, only this time it’s a debt, not a credit).

Wealth is redistributed according to the credits and debts: the money that countries over the median GDP pay to the global polity goes toward the debts of the countries under the median GDP. The global polity determines what amounts go to what countries based on other dimensions of need, such as those reported in the Human Development Index. Countries under the median use that money to pay back their debt by the next global fiscal year. If they don’t, the debt rolls over to the next year. Etc.

For example, here is the CIA World Factbook list of GDP by country from 2010. There are 216 countries reporting GDP on this list. The 108th country is Nepal, with a GDP  of US$15,840. The first country is the U.S. with a GDP of US$14,660,000. Here’s how much the U.S. would pay the global polity:

14660000 – 15,840 = US$14,644,160

The second country is China, with a GDP of US$5,878,000. They’d pay the global polity US$5,862,160.

On the opposite end of the spectrum is the last country, Niue. They’re GDP is US$10. Here’s what they owe the global polity:

15840 – 10 = US$15, 830.

Niue owes the global polity $15, 830. The amount collected by the polity from the countries in excess of the median will be funneled to Niue, and countries like it, in order that they may pay their debt. If they can’t pay it by the end of the next fiscal year, their debt rolls over. Whatever they couldn’t pay goes back to the polity. They try again.

There. I said it. What does anyone think?

How did this happen?

Okay. So I’ve taken a break from literary stuff recently to focus on literacy. My own literacy. About finance. The 2008 financial crisis and OWS and everything has gotten me into the general ugliness of bureaucratic things and I want to fucking write about it. I’ve been studying history and economics with a small group of OWSers and at our last meeting we decided to each bring something to the group that relates to the question “how did this happen?” I’m going to bring this blog post. Consider it a term paper. Or something.The first thing we read in our group was part of the 2010 Senate subcommittee report on the financial crisis that came out of Carl Levin’s office. It’s awesome. Particularly the introduction. It says there (among other things) that banks and other financial companies treated their own clients as fucking counter-parties. They took people’s money, said “oh yeah, we’ll help you” and then used it to bet against them to make more money for themselves.Counterparties.

Turns out we encourage this: experiencing other people’s pain as pleasure. Some sadistic shit. Like, your mom gets cancer, can’t work, can’t pay her mortgage, and some meathead in a skyscraper is betting other meatheads (actually, the meathead is watching a machine bet other meatheads’ machines) that your mom won’t make her mortgage payment. The meathead is also buying insurance from other meatheads for himself just in case she does so that even if he loses his bet that your mom’s life will be fucked he’ll be in the black.

Always be in the fucking black. Always.

Our group discussed that for awhile. But then we got interested in how this happened historically. How did this moral horseshit become legal?

A friend mentioned a bill called the Glass-Steagall Act and sent us an article on it. Basically, our economy already went through this whole financial wasteland about 100 years ago (oh yeah, 1929, right…) when banks got into insurance and securities trading and became so big and interconnected with everyone’s money that it was dangerous for everyone. Glass-Steagall, passed in 1933, made it illegal for banks to get into that stuff. Put banking, securities, and insurance in “separate rooms.” But we couldn’t handle that. No. Over the next 60 years we picked at the scab, trying to let banks get big again and make more fucking money. There were commies! Chinese! We had to compete! Buy! Sell! Go! Now! Ahhhhh!

More fucking money. We need that shit. Seriously. Can’t breathe without it.

We finally ripped the rest of the scab off in 1999 when Phil Gramm, voted one of the 25 people to blame for the crisis, got a 90-8 vote in the Senate and a 362-57 vote in the House to full undo Glass-Steagall. He wanted to “modernize” our financial institutions. He wanted to deregulate. So banks could compete.

A few senators had their shit together at the time and basically prophesized what would happen. Byran Dorgan was the most badass, saying that the government would need to bail the bankers out and the public would lose all kinds of money just because some people wanted to make money. He gave this fucking incredible example from the 1987 Savings and Loans crisis:

Let me describe the ultimate perversion, the hood ornament of stupidity. The U.S. government owned nonperforming junk bonds in the Taj Mahal Casino. Let me say that again. The U.S. Government ended up owning nonperforming junk bonds in the Taj Mahal casino in Atlantic City. How did that happen? The savings and loans were able to buy junk bonds. The savings and loans went belly up. The junk bonds were not performing. And the U.S. Government ended up [having to buy] those junk bonds.

Fucking casinos. We have government casinos.
Dorgan went on to say that, around ten years from that moment (1999) we’d probably have to do the same damn thing and it would be the public paying for it…

Now imagine this: as tax dollars are spent buying casinos, hundreds of bank lobbyists pull up to Capitol Hill, the security guards checking their credentials. Citbank lobbyists and Bank of America lobbyists. Merrill Lynch and Morgan Stanley. All in all, $187.2 million from 1989-1999 went to legislators from people who wanted Gramm’s bill to pass. Russell Feingold said, “Lobbyists lined the halls outside the room where the conference met to reconcile the House and Senate versions of bill…that is standard procedure on Capitol Hill.”

Lo and behold, the bill passed 90-8 in the Senate, 362-57 in the house. That’s not just the number of people who took lobbying money and/or cowed to political threats from their PACs and parties and/or thought it was a nice idea to deregulate. That’s all the people in this country who elected these people to do all these things. Those numbers are everyone deciding all together to screw ourselves and everyone else to make some cash. And, let me say, it was the liberals that wanted to keep the old policies in place. Be conservative, said the progressives.

What the fuck does anything mean anymore.

So yeah, the conservative-progressives were right. Ten years went by and we had huge banks getting huger, taking on more risk, and fucking growing until no one knew what the fuck anyone was thinking anymore and the housing crisis happened. The government–which, by the way, is just you and me and everyone we know–bailed them out. And we basically handed Europe a hot steaming bowl of shit and said “Enjoy!” Now the commies really will bring us down. They own so much of our debt–the socialist-commie bastards–that if they fail then so do we.

It’s like we want to fucking die. Reading about this shit makes me think of people who want to kill themselves.

We’re getting to the end of this, I promise. Our OWS group discussed the history behind this ‘counterparty’ stuff with Glass-Steagall, but we still wanted to know: what’s the big idea here? What’s the ideology that makes this policy real? It’s not just legal. It’s not just lawmakers and lobbyists getting together and perpetually thinking to themselves “let’s just try to make a shit ton of money and fuck ourselves and our friends in the process.” There’s a fucking zeitgeist at work here.

The book that I think speaks the truth about the history of capitalism is Karl Polanyi’s The Great Transformation. It fucking rocks. There’s a part in there called “The Birth of the Liberal Creed” where he talks about a debate in the 1830s in England. (England invented all this shit, bee tee dubs.)

After they pretty much fabricated the three basic commodities–land, labor, capital–by looking at the world and saying “Oh yeah, I’m gonna use you real good,” they had things like unemployment and poverty to deal with. They also had these factories that they called the Satanic Mills. Yeah. Satanic Mills.
Anyway, the question in 1830 was: do we keep legislation to help protect people from the market? Is it better to threaten people with starvation and poverty or should we provide some kind of safety net? Should government be a mommy or a daddy?

Thing is, they’d tried that one time. Back in 1782 they tried giving out bread and subsidizing farmlands that got hit hard by price fluctuations. It was called the Speenhamland system. It didn’t work so well. So Edmund Burke and David Ricardo and a bunch of utilitarians cited that failure in the 1830 debate and they decided to be daddies. No protection. No safety net. They conjured images of Robinson Crusoe. Rugged individualism and all that. They amended the Poor Laws to help the “victims of improvement” (poor people) get back on their feet. How?

By not having any Poors Laws and telling them: if you don’t find a job and work and make money for yourself, no one will be here to help you. Sorry.

Polanyi says this was the birth of the ‘bootstraps’ mentality. It’s still around, you know. When people like Phil Gramm try to “modernize” our institutions by deregulating them and unleashing market forces on us while we’re just trying to get through our fucking lives every day–that’s the utilitarians speaking from 1830, being our Cultural Daddy, saying “No one is going to help you. You have to do it yourself. Being human means surviving and taking what you can when you can to provide for yourself and who you care about and fuck everyone else…” Of course this idea goes back to Adam Smith, who said that the division of labor and the social product are what’s most important when running a society; that regulation causes real disorder; that markets and exchanging are “natural” for humans…blah blah blah. The big idea is: it’s better in the long run for everyone if no one helps or cares about anyone unless they make you money.

Anyway. This has gone on too long already–both what you’re reading (if you’re still reading) and what it’s about. I’m still trying to fucking figure it out. If you have any ideas, let me know.

The Reason America Won’t Change (with thanks to W.H. Auden)

In Europe the rich man and the poor man were thought of as being two different kinds of men; the poor man might be an inferior kind but he was a man: but here the poor man was not, as such, a man, but a person in a state of poverty from which, if he were a real man, he would presently extricate himself. The newly arriving poor…were treated by their predecessors, it seems like freshman by upperclassmen, i.e, subject to a process of ‘hazing’ so as to toughen their character and stiffen their determination to rise to a position of immunity.–W.H. Auden, Preface to Anzia Yezierska’s Red Ribbon on a White Horse

The reason America won’t change
because 1%  of people own everything
is because our country is like high school
the poor are like freshmen
and they see the seniors
who get so many privileges
just because they worked hard for a little while
and waited and suffered
the unpleasantness of beginning
with the hope of someday achieving
the promise
for freshmen it’s graduating
and senior skip day and prom, etc
and for the poor it’s wealth
it’s having that 1%
it’s being a king
because ours is the only country
where anyone can be a king
–not everyone, that’s statistically impossible–
but anyone that wants and suffers
can make it to senior year.

Why would freshmen ever give up
the chance to be seniors?

Reading the Credit Crisis: Securitization

One of TLC’s most popular songs in the 90′s was “Waterfalls.” The chorus is:

Don’t go chasing waterfalls/ please stick to the rivers and the lakes that you’re used to. /I know that you’re gonna have if your way or nothing at all/ but I think you’re moving too fast.

I thought of this song today while reading the Senate’s report on the credit crisis. Today I finally understood something about “securitization,” and I realized that the song’s chorus is pretty wise.

At first the report’s explanation of securitization is very, very confusing:

Securitization. To make home loans sales more efficient and profitable, banks began making increasing use of a mechanism now called securitization. In a securitization, a financial institution bundles a large number of home loans into a loan pool, and calculates the amount of mortgage payments that will be paid into that pool by the borrowers. The securitizer then forms a shell corporation or trust, often offshore, to hold the loan pool and use the mortgage revenue stream to support the creation of bonds that make payments to investors over time. Those bonds, which are registered with the SEC, are called residential mortgage backed securities (RMBS) and are typically sold in a public offering to investors.  (p.18)

This didn’t make much sense to me. I understand that homeowners take out loans from banks to pay for houses. I understand that some banks saw a potential profit in offering loans to people who might not be able to pay off that loan. But how do you bundle a home loan? What’s the function of the offshore trust? How do bonds make payments to investors? Finally, how could any of this be sold to anyone?

Later on, in the section about credit rating agencies and “structured finance,” the report offers helpful imagery. It talks about waterfalls.

Among the oldest types of structured finance products are RMBS securities. To create these securities, issuers–often working with investment banks–bundle large number of home loans into a pool, and calculate the revenue stream coming into the loan pool from the individual mortgages. They then design a “waterfall” that delivers a stream of revenues in sequential order to specified “tranches.” The first tranche is at the top of the waterfall and is typically the first to receive revenues from the mortgage pool. Since that tranche is guaranteed to be paid first, it is the safest investment in the pool. The issuer creates a security, often called a bond, linked to that first tranche…its revenue stream is the most secure. (p.28)

This is an image I can understand. Think of a waterfall. There’s a water source at the top of it, like a lake. The lake overflows and follows the contours of a slope downward, creating a stream. In some cases there’s a cliff and the water falls over it.

The beginning of the water is the top of the cliff. Just over the edge of the cliff, on the rock’s face, is a space between it and the waterfall. The waterfall gets that part of the cliff wet–and usually every other part of it, including the very bottom of the cliff.

That space is a tranche. The tranche at the top of the cliff gets wet. It’s chances of getting really wet are pretty good since it’s at the source of the water. The tranche at the bottom gets has the least chance of getting wet since it’s farthest from the source. And all the tranches in between the top and bottom have certain likelihoods of getting wet accordingly.

This is all an analogy for securitization. Getting back to the homeowners, they pay a mortgage to their bank, which takes a profit. That movement or action–a bunch of people paying mortgages–can be “bundled” together and sold for a profit. The profit made from this sale is based on how much the people pay into their mortgages and how reliably they do so. If you want to, you could derive your own profit from these habits. This is a derivative, I think.

Back to the waterfall analogy. Imagine a bundle of homeowners and their payment habits. Their money sitting in the bank is like a lake of water. If you want to, you can go to that lake, chop a big hole in the side of it, and watch the water flow out. This is creates a derivatives market, because now people can make or lose money depending on whether or not the people living in the houses pay or don’t pay their mortgages.

But how do we know they’re going to pay? How can we be sure that we’ll make money from them?

Imagine the mortgage-payments flowing downward like a stream over a cliff. There’s a waterfall now. Since certain tranches are more likely to “get wet” (tap into the flow of profit), securitizers set up bonds. The word “bond” makes sense, I guess, since the securitizers are linking investors to the profit flow.

The word “security” makes sense, too. In a derivatives market, it’s hard to know whether you’ll make or lose money on someone else making or losing money. But if I buy a security in the form of a bond, that means I know, with a degree of certainty, that I will make money.  I feel secure that money will come in.

There are lot of different kinds of derivatives markets, I guess, all with their own securities markets. Pretty much any behavior that involves buying and selling can be securitized: corn, computers, petroleum, etc. This includes mortgages.

So what do securitizers do?

They sell a sense of certainty about making money from other people who make and lose money. Specifically, related to the credit crisis, RMBS securitizers sell a sense of certainty about making money off the mortgage paying habits of people living in houses.

Before the credit crisis, people securitized a lot and did it really fast. So TLC (whose name, ironically, also stands for Tender Love and Care) was right. One lesson in all of this is: don’t go chasing waterfalls.

DISCUSSION

I get the feeling that most structured financial products are just ways to make money when other people are making or losing money. This is why, before the 1970s, securities markets were taboo. It was too much like gambling. It’s like going to a horse race and betting on whether or not a certain horse will win.

But then two economists, Fisher Black and Myron Scholes, invented a formula called Black-Scholes that made it possible to know with greater certainty whether or not you could make or money when someone else was losing or making money.

Black and Scholes won the Nobel prize in economics for that formula in 1997. It sounds bad at first, but the report says that securities markets like RMBS were actually good business until some banks like Washington Mutual realized they could make a lot of money selling subprime loans. (Remember ‘subprime’ just means ‘bad’.) Imagine a horse that was supposed to be terrible coming from behind and winning the race. If you had a gadget that could calculate with a degree of certainty that such a horse would win, you’d probably use it to bet on the horse the gadget told you. You could make a lot of money, particularly if the horse was a bad horse.

The same thing happened for subprime loans.  These were high-risk and had the potential to make more money if the homeowners beat the odds set against them and paid off their mortgages.

The credit agencies saw that they could make money by giving the subprime loans good credit ratings, and the investment bankers saw they could charge high prices for securitizing large bundles of these loans for investors. The riskiness made it all very profitable.

In my attempt to understand why the financial crisis happened–why some people hurt other people to make money–this helps a lot. Black-Scholes and the securitization process makes it clearer to me.

Losing money hurts most people. We work and work and save and save so we can make a better life for ourselves and our families. This is particularly true with houses. We want nice places to live and raise children. When we lose money, it’s harder to make a better life for ourselves and our families because we can’t afford a nice place to live. Since making a good life for ourselves and the people we love one purpose of livinge, it can be really hurtful when that doesn’t happen.

Securitization, particularly in the last few years, became a business where people know–with certainty–how to make money when other people lose it. Another way of saying this is: sometimes when you securitize you’re profiting from other people’s hurt.

 

A Problem: Polanyi Defeaters

Let’s say there are two ways to understand the world: materially and spiritually.

Material understanding thinks in real, practical, commoditized, gain-oriented, market-going, exchange-valued, utilitized, consequence-based, pragmatic, luxurious, wanting, surplus-seeking, growth-inducing, ambition-promoting, what-can-I-get-for-X terms. Generally, material understanding sees the world economically.

Spiritual understanding thinks in ideal, divine, ascetic, use-valued, subsistence-seeking, need-based, balanced, sustainable, transcendence-promoting, virtuous, appreciation-of-X-for-its-own-sake terms. Generally, spiritual understanding sees the world socially-religiously-aesthetically.

A Polanyi defeater poses an epistemological problem for those that think they can understand spiritual statements. Karl Polanyi argues in The Great Transformation that the market system has been embedded in our social relationships since the Industrial Revolution; literally, that our society is an economy, wherein we interact with one another economically and not socially. If this is true then it seems relevant to wonder if our language, the expression of our social relationships, has been similarly affected by the market system. I think it has.

In a market any statement is understood economically. We explain and understand what we mean when we speak in terms of gain and exchange. If we accept that the market system is embedded in our social relationships, and language is an expression thereof, then we must understand or explain every statement economically. Furthermore if language constitutes our thought in some essential way, then by extension our thought is economic in nature–founded in material gain and exchange.

This is a problem. If it’s true, then I can never truly understand or express, rationally or irrationally, any spiritual statement. For every spiritual explanation I can give of a statement I can produce a Polanyi defeater explaining it materially. Any statement about truth, beauty, friendship, love, virtue, or justice can be expressed in terms of material gain and exchange. I can try to understand a spiritual statement, but since understanding requires thought, and thought is economic, then any attempt to do so will fail. And since language is the expression of social relationships, then this holds for anyone that speaks the language I do.

Granted, language is an historical artifact. Another language may be safe from the Polanyi defeaters depending on its history. But given the extent of globalization from early colonial imperialism up through our own contemporary  neo-colonial cultural imperialism, the chances of finding or generating such a language are slim. Even if I do find such a language there’s little hope, if I translate it into mine–try to understand it in terms of my own–the possibility of spirituality disappears immediately. Materiality is built into the fundament of my thought. The structure of my consciousness is material and market-oriented. No matter what I do, so long as I’m thinking, I can’t be spiritual.

For example: “Lily is my friend because she enjoys my company.”

Whether or not this is true, I cannot know whether the statement refers to some deep, spiritual feeling of friendship that Lily has or if she’s is using me for some end. I have no way of knowing if this is the case.

“The sky is blue.”

Again, whether or not this is true, ‘sky’ and ‘blue’ are linguistic entities. It may be the case that the sky and blueness are transcendent properties of an actually existing, divinely or naturally created world. But these words are subject to the market system and may have been constructed and formed over time to get me to see the world in a particular way for some purpose.

“Philosophy seeks wisdom.”

This, for me, is incredibly problematic. I can produce a Polanyi defeater for it such that the only reason philosophy seeks wisdom is for some kind of material gain. Though Socrates died for the idea that the unexamined life isn’t worth living, it turns out that in our cultural moment–if you’re reading this and understanding it–then we have no way of understanding what he was talking about. We can only think about it in terms of commodity and gain because our thought is economic.

The same goes for this blog post. It’s doomed. Tragically. I have no way of understanding if what I’m writing refers to something in the world or, because I’m looking to gain something from what I’m describing, I’m just using this “reality” as a resource for my own material gain.

Does This Concern You?

(1) Common Sense

Sitting across from a friend at dinner, I mind my manners. I’m careful not to be late, to make sure I don’t insult him, to make sure his experience with me is pleasant and fulfilling. I do this because I can’t stand the thought that I would be the cause of someone else’s discomfort. If I do feel as though I have created some discomfort, I’m quick to try to repair it with an apology–either written or spoken or in the form of a gift. This also holds for the people sitting at the tables around us. I’m careful not cause them discomfort either.

In general, I try to make sure that I don’t cause others discomfort. To do this I have to be aware of how my actions or words might cause discomfort, amending what I do and say accordingly. I don’t say or do hurtful things on purpose, and I try to reduce the chances that I will do them unconsciously. Obviously the are times when I fail at this, and when I do, as I said above, I try to repair it.

(2) A Suicide

Earlier this year, a chinese factory worker that produces iPhones committed suicide at work. I have no idea why he killed himself. It could have been because of work, his personal life, or some mixture of the two. Let’s assume that his job–the nature of his work–played a role in his despair.

Everyone trusts statistics. Let’s assume that his work played a 40% role in his despair. Not all of it, but a good chunk of it. In other words, his despair was forty percent composed by his feelings about his work.

(3) How This Concerns Me

In September I purchased an iPhone. I went to the Apple store and gave the attendant money in exchange for it. I’d saved this money from my own salary to make the purchase. I wanted the phone for various reasons, which I rehearsed to myself and others to justify the purchase:

I’d like to know where I’m going with GPS;
I can check email, which is good for work;
it’s cool;
there’s a sale going on;
I can have my music, movies, and reading all in one place;
my friends all have iPhones;
I just want it;
etc.

To what extent am I thinking about people like the man who killed himself? When I want the iPhone I don’t consider the lives of the people who produce it, despite the fact that my purchasing the iPhone actively participates in a production cycle that, among other things, caused forty percent of a man’s suicidal despair.

This concerns me because my desire for the iPhone helps create the conditions that caused 40% of someone’s suicide. This concerns me further when I think about the great care I take not to cause discomfort in others.

(4) Theoretical Interpretation: Butler and Grieveability

I take great care to not cause strangers in a restaurant any discomfort, but yet I helped create the conditions that caused a man to kill himself. Why?

Judith Butler, in an interview at Guernica, writes that

All I really have to say about life is that for it to be regarded valuable, it has to be regarded as grieveable. And I think we can see that entire populations are considered negligible by warring powers, so when they’re destroyed there is no sense that an egregious act has been committed…

She said this in response to a question about war, not economics, but there is a disturbing similarity in its principle that applies to my concern here. When participating as a consumer in a market like the market for iPhones, to what extent do I regard the lives of other participants in that market grieveable? In the example of the iPhone factory worker, a life was destroyed. Forty percent of the force that caused the destruction of that life directly resulted from my purchasing an iPhone. To me, this man’s life–and the lives of his colleagues–are negligible. They’re not grieveable. According to Butler (and I agree) their lives aren’t valuable. When I participate in the market, I don’t value the lives of others in that market. I only value what I can get and how much I can get for it.

(5) How This Concerns You

If this is true for me, then it’s true for you to the extent that you participate in markets as a consumer:

Specifically: if you bought an iPhone and didn’t think about this man and his colleagues, then you don’t value their lives.

Generally: if you buy anything and don’t think about the people (and ecologies) that produce them, then you don’t value their lives.

(6) Half-earnest, Half-rhetorical Question To The Reader

Does this concern you?

 

Yasuní-ITT is signed.

Yesterday official documents were signed by the UNDP and the Ecuadorian government to leave roughly 850 million barrels of oil beneath the Amazon rain forest. This is a great victory and a great step towards a “post-petroleum” world. Here’s a few of the articles covering the news today.

BBCManila Bulletin3 NewsArgus PressABC NewsCanada EastFOX News CB Online

I’ve been following this issue since November of last year, as I was living in Ecuador when it was being batted around in the political discourse. There has been a lot of skepticism, but yesterday confirms that Ecuador will push forward with the initiative, the first of its kind in the world. For a step-by-step news cycle and analysis of the proposal since February, see my old blog.