Today's New York Times Magazine asks a good water policy question. Climate change may reduce the supply of available water in the U.S West (i.e Las Vegas, Los Angeles, Phoenix) at the same time that regional migration and income growth is increasing the demand to live and work in such areas. Is a water shortage crisis on the horizon?

You would think that economists would be useful people to talk to for such a piece but Dr. Gertner chose not to talk to any. Did we give no useful quotes? Were we too optimistic for his tastes? Did he think we'd have nothing useful to say?

A key parameter here is the shape of household and business demand curves for water. As the price of water goes up, will people continue to have lawns in Los Angeles? Will the golf courses be covered with green grass? If people switched their outdoor consumption to "less artificial" uses, how much would this reduce aggregate water consumption?

If people switched to more efficient toliets and showers (in the face of higher prices), how much would consumption per-capita decline by ? Could consumption per-capita decline by enough to offset population growth? You would think that economists would have something useful to say. In my book , I quote Chris Timmins of Duke on this very subject.

Leading economists are working on property rights and the transfer of water from farmers to urbanites. Efficiency says that the resource (water) should be sold to the consumer who values it the most. Farmers will sell some of their asset to urbanites and everyone will be made better off but will there be a crisis? Gertner could have spoke to Gary Libecap of UCSB and Michael Hanemann of UC Berkeley and this piece would have been much stronger.

My cynical theory is that pessimism sells and neo-classical economists are naturally optimistic that certain "crises" will not be crises if we anticipate them act ahead of time. Since journalists anticipate our "optimism", they don't call us and the public suffers from being handed a slightly slanted piece of journalism.



October 21, 2007
The Future Is Drying Up
By JOE GERTNER

Scientists sometimes refer to the effect a hotter world will have on this country’s fresh water as the other water problem, because global warming more commonly evokes the specter of rising oceans submerging our great coastal cities. By comparison, the steady decrease in mountain snowpack — the loss of the deep accumulation of high-altitude winter snow that melts each spring to provide the American West with most of its water — seems to be a more modest worry. But not all researchers agree with this ranking of dangers. Last May, for instance, Steven Chu, a Nobel laureate and the director of the Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory, one of the United States government’s pre-eminent research facilities, remarked that diminished supplies of fresh water might prove a far more serious problem than slowly rising seas. When I met with Chu last summer in Berkeley, the snowpack in the Sierra Nevada, which provides most of the water for Northern California, was at its lowest level in 20 years. Chu noted that even the most optimistic climate models for the second half of this century suggest that 30 to 70 percent of the snowpack will disappear. “There’s a two-thirds chance there will be a disaster,” Chu said, “and that’s in the best scenario.”

In the Southwest this past summer, the outlook was equally sobering. A catastrophic reduction in the flow of the Colorado River — which mostly consists of snowmelt from the Rocky Mountains — has always served as a kind of thought experiment for water engineers, a risk situation from the outer edge of their practical imaginations. Some 30 million people depend on that water. A greatly reduced river would wreak chaos in seven states: Colorado, Utah, Wyoming, New Mexico, Arizona, Nevada and California. An almost unfathomable legal morass might well result, with farmers suing the federal government; cities suing cities; states suing states; Indian nations suing state officials; and foreign nations (by treaty, Mexico has a small claim on the river) bringing international law to bear on the United States government. In addition, a lesser Colorado River would almost certainly lead to a considerable amount of economic havoc, as the future water supplies for the West’s industries, agriculture and growing municipalities are threatened. As one prominent Western water official described the possible future to me, if some of the Southwest’s largest reservoirs empty out, the region would experience an apocalypse, “an Armageddon.”

One day last June, an environmental engineer named Bradley Udall appeared before a Senate subcommittee that was seeking to understand how severe the country’s fresh-water problems might become in an era of global warming. As far as Washington hearings go, the testimony was an obscure affair, which was perhaps fitting: Udall is the head of an obscure organization, the Western Water Assessment. The bureau is located in the Boulder, Colo., offices of the National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration, the government agency that collects obscure data about the sky and seas. Still, Udall has a name that commands some attention, at least within the Beltway. His father was Morris Udall, the congressman and onetime presidential candidate, and his uncle was Stewart Udall, the secretary of the interior under Presidents John F. Kennedy and Lyndon Johnson. Bradley Udall’s great-great-grandfather, John D. Lee, moreover, was the founder of Lee’s Ferry, a flyspeck spot in northern Arizona that means nothing to most Americans but holds near-mythic status to those who work with water for a living. Near Lee’s Ferry is where the annual flow of the Colorado River is measured in order to divvy up its water among the seven states that depend on it. To many politicians, economists and climatologists, there are few things more important than what has happened at Lee’s Ferry in the past, just as there are few things more important than what will happen at Lee’s Ferry in the future.

The importance of the water there was essentially what Udall came to talk about. A report by the National Academies on the Colorado River basin had recently concluded that the combination of limited Colorado River water supplies, increasing demands, warmer temperatures and the prospect of recurrent droughts “point to a future in which the potential for conflict” among those who use the river will be ever-present. Over the past few decades, the driest states in the United States have become some of our fastest-growing; meanwhile, an ongoing drought has brought the flow of the Colorado to its lowest levels since measurements at Lee’s Ferry began 85 years ago. At the Senate hearing, Udall stated that the Colorado River basin is already two degrees warmer than it was in 1976 and that it is foolhardy to imagine that the next 50 years will resemble the last 50. Lake Mead, the enormous reservoir in Arizona and Nevada that supplies nearly all the water for Las Vegas, is half-empty, and statistical models indicate that it will never be full again. “As we move forward,” Udall told his audience, “all water-management actions based on ‘normal’ as defined by the 20th century will increasingly turn out to be bad bets.”

A few weeks after his testimony, I flew to Boulder to meet with Udall, and we spent a day driving switchback roads high in the Rockies in his old Subaru. It had been a wet season on the east slope of the Rockies, but the farther west we went, the drier it became. Udall wanted to show me some of the local reservoirs and water systems that were built over the past century, so I could get a sense of their complexity as well as their vulnerability. As he put it, he wants to connect the disparate members of the water economy in a way that has never really been done before, so that utility executives, scientists, environmentalists, business leaders, farmers and politicians can begin discussing how to cope with the inevitable shortages of fresh water. In the American West, whose huge economy and political power derive from the ability of 20th-century engineers to conquer rivers like the Colorado and establish a reliable water supply, the prospect that there will be less water in the future, rather than the same amount, is unnerving. “We have a very short period of time here to get people educated on what this means,” Udall told me as we drove through the mountains. “Then once that occurs, perhaps we can start talking about how do we deal with it.”

Udall suggested that I meet a water manager named Peter Binney, who works for Aurora, Colo., a city — the 60th-largest in the United States — that sprawls over an enormous swath of flat, postagricultural land south of the Denver airport. It may be difficult for residents of the East Coast to understand the political celebrity of some Western water managers, but in a place like Aurora, where water, not available land, limits economic growth, Binney has enormous responsibilities. In effect, the city’s viability depends on his wherewithal to conjure new sources of water or increase the output of old ones. As Binney told me when we first spoke, “We have to find a new way of meeting the needs of all this population that’s turning up and still satisfy all of our recreational and environmental demands.” Aurora has a population of 310,000 now, Binney said, but that figure is projected to surpass 500,000 by 2035.

I asked if he had enough water for that many people. “Oh, no,” he replied. He seemed surprised that someone could even presume that he might. In fact, he explained, his job is to figure out how to find more water in a region where every drop is already spoken for and at a moment when there is little possibility that any more will ever be discovered.

Binney and I got together outside Dillon, a village in the Colorado Rockies 75 miles from Aurora and just a few miles west of the Continental Divide. We met in a small parking lot beside Dillon Reservoir, which sits at the bottom of a bowl of snow-capped mountains. Binney, a thickset 54-year-old with dark red hair and a fair complexion, had driven up in a large S.U.V. He still carries a strong accent from his native New Zealand, and in conversation he comes across as less a utility manager than a polymath with the combined savvy of an engineer, an economist and a politician. As we moved to a picnic table, Binney told me that we were looking at Denver’s water, not Aurora’s, and that it would eventually travel 70 miles through tunnels under the mountains to Denver’s taps. He admitted that he would love to have this water, which is pure snowmelt. To people in his job, snowmelt is the best source of water because it requires little chemical treatment to bring it up to federal drinking standards. But this water wasn’t available. Denver got here before him. And in Colorado, like most Western states, the rights to water follow a bloodline back to whoever got to it first.

One way to view the history of the American West is as a series of important moments in exploration or migration; another is to consider it, as Binney does, in terms of its water. In the 20th century, for example, all of our great dams and reservoirs were built — “heroic man-over-nature” achievements, in Binney’s words, that control floods, store water for droughts, generate vast amounts of hydroelectric power and enable agriculture to flourish in a region where the low annual rainfall otherwise makes it difficult. And in constructing projects like the Glen Canyon Dam — which backs up water to create Lake Powell, the vast reservoir in Arizona and Utah that feeds Lake Mead — the builders went beyond the needs of the moment. “They gave us about 40 to 50 years of excess capacity,” Binney says. “Now we’ve gotten to the end of that era.” At this point, every available gallon of the Colorado River has been appropriated by farmers, industries and municipalities. And yet, he pointed out, the region’s population is expected to keep booming. California’s Department of Finance recently predicted that there will be 60 million Californians by midcentury, up from 36 million today. “In Colorado, we’re sitting at a little under five million people now, on our way to eight million people,” Binney said. Western settlers, who apportioned the region’s water long ago, never could have foreseen the thirst of its cities. Nor, he said, could they have anticipated our environmental mandates to keep water “in stream” for the benefit of fish and wildlife, as well as for rafters and kayakers.

The West’s predicament, though, isn’t just a matter of limited capacity, bigger populations and environmental regulations. It’s also a distributional one. Seventy-five years ago, cities like Denver made claims on — and from the state of Colorado received rights to — water in the mountains; those cities in turn built reservoirs for their water. As a result, older cities have access to more surface water (that is, water that comes from rivers and streams) than newer cities like Aurora, which have been forced to purchase existing water rights from farmers and mining companies. Towns that rely on groundwater (water pumped from deep underground) face an even bigger disadvantage. Water tables all over the United States have been dropping, sometimes drastically, from overuse. In the Denver area, some cities that use only groundwater will almost certainly exhaust their accessible supplies by 2050.

The biggest issue is that agriculture consumes most of the water, as much as 90 percent of it, in a state like Colorado. “The West has gone from a fur-trapping, to a mining, to an agricultural, to a manufacturing, to an urban-centric economy,” Binney explained. As the region evolved, however, its water ownership for the most part did not. “There’s no magical locked box of water that we can turn to,” Binney says of cities like Aurora, “so it’s going to have to come from an existing use.” Because the supply of water in the West can’t really change, water managers spend their time looking for ways to adjust its allocation in their favor.

Binney knew all this back in 2002, when he took the job in Aurora after a long career at an engineering firm. Over the course of a century, the city had established a reasonable water supply. About a quarter of its water is piped in from the Colorado River basin about 70 miles away; another quarter is taken from reservoirs in the Arkansas River basin far to the south. The rest comes from the South Platte, a lazy, meandering river that runs north through Aurora on its way toward Nebraska. Binney says he believes that a city like his needs at least five years of water in storage in case of drought; his first year there turned out to be one of the worst years for water managers in recorded history, and the town’s reservoirs dropped to 26 percent of capacity, meaning Aurora had at most nine months of reserves and could not endure another dry spring. During the summer and fall, Binney focused on both supply and demand. He negotiated with neighboring towns to buy water and accelerated a program to pay local farmers to fallow their fields so the city could lease their water rights. Meanwhile, the town asked residents to limit their showers and had water cops enforce new rules against lawn sprinklers. (“It’s interesting how many people were watering lawns in the middle of the night,” Binney said.)

Water use in the United States varies widely by region, influenced by climate, neighborhood density and landscaping, among other things. In the West, Los Angelenos use about 125 gallons per person per day in their homes, compared with 114 for Tucson residents. Binney’s customers generally use about 160 gallons per person per day. “In the depths of the drought,” he said, “we got down to about 123 gallons.”

Part of the cruelty of a Western drought is that a water manager never knows if it will last 1 year or 10. In 2002, Binney was at the earliest stages of what has since become a nearly continuous dry spell. Though he couldn’t see that at the time, he realized Aurora faced a permanent state of emergency if it didn’t boost its water supplies. But how? One option was to try to buy water rights in the mountains (most likely from farmers who were looking to quit agriculture), then build a new reservoir and a long supply line to Aurora. Obvious hurdles included environmental and political resistance, as well as an engineering difficulty: water is heavy, far heavier than oil, and incompressible; a system to move it long distances (especially if it involves tunneling through mountains or pumping water over them) can cost billions. Binney figured that without the help of the federal government, which has largely gotten out of the Western dam-and-reservoir-building business, Aurora would be unwise to pursue such a project. Even if the money could be raised, building a system would take decades. Aurora needed a solution within five years.

Another practice, sometimes used in Europe, is to drill wells alongside a river and pull river water up though them, using the gravel of the riverbank as a natural filter — sort of like digging a hole in the sand near the ocean’s edge as it fills from below. Half of Aurora’s water rights were on the South Platte already; the city also pours its treated wastewater back into the river, as do other cities in the Denver metro area. This gives the South Platte a steady, dependable flow. Binney and the township reasoned that they could conceivably, and legally, go some 20 or 30 miles downstream on the South Platte, buy agricultural land near the river, install wells there and retrieve their wastewater. Thus they could create a system whereby Aurora would use South Platte water; send it to a treatment plant that would discharge it back into the river; go downstream to recapture water from the same river; then pump it back to the city for purification and further use. The process would repeat, ad infinitum. Aurora would use its share of South Platte water “to extinction,” in the argot of water managers. A drop of the South Platte used by an Aurora resident would find its way back to the city’s taps as a half-drop in 45 to 60 days, a quarter-drop 45 to 60 days after that and so on. For every drop the town used from the South Platte, over time it would almost — as all the fractional drops added up — get another.

Many towns have a supply that includes previously treated water. The water from the Mississippi River, for instance, is reused many times by municipalities as it flows southward. But as far as Binney knew, no municipality in the United States had built the kind of closed loop that Aurora envisioned. Water from wells in the South Platte would taste different, because of its mineral and organic content, so Binney’s engineers would have to make it mimic mountain snowmelt. More delicate challenges involved selling local taxpayers on authorizing a project, marketed to them as “Prairie Waters,” that would capitalize on their own wastewater. The system, which meant building a 34-mile-long pipeline from the downstream South Platte riverbanks to a treatment facility in Aurora, would cost three-quarters of a billion dollars, making it one of the most expensive municipal infrastructure projects in the country.

When Binney and I chatted at the reservoir outside Dillon, he had already finished discussions with Moody’s and Fitch, the bond-rating agencies whose evaluations would help the town finance the project. Groundbreaking, which would be the next occasion we would see each other, was still a month away. “What we’re doing now is trading high levels of treatment and purification for building tunnels and chasing whatever remaining snowmelt there is in the hills, which I think isn’t a wise investment for the city,” he told me. “I would expect that what we’re going to do is the blueprint for a lot of cities in California, Arizona, Nevada — even the Carolinas and the Gulf states. They’re all going to be doing this in the future.”

Water managers in the West tend to think in terms of “acre-feet.” One acre-foot, equal to about 326,000 gallons, is enough to serve two typical Colorado families for one year. When measurements of the Colorado River began near Lee’s Ferry in the early 1920s, the region happened to be in the midst of an extremely wet series of years, and the river was famously misjudged to have an average flow of 17 million acre-feet per year — when in fact its average flow would often prove to be significantly less. Part of the legacy of that misjudgment is that the seven states that divided the water in the 1920s entered into a legal partnership that created unrealistic expectations about the river’s capacity. But there is another, lesser-known legacy too. As the 20th century progressed, many water managers came to believe that the 1950s, which included the most severe drought years since measurement of the river began, were the marker for a worst-case situation.

But recent studies of tree rings, in which academics drill core samples from the oldest Ponderosa pines or Douglas firs they can find in order to determine moisture levels hundreds of years ago, indicate that the dry times of the 1950s were mild and brief compared with other historical droughts. The latest research effort, published in the journal Geophysical Research Letters in late May, identified the existence of an epochal Southwestern megadrought that, if it recurred, would prove calamitous.

When Binney and I met at Dillon Reservoir, he brought graphs of Colorado River flows that go back nearly a thousand years. “There was this one in the 1150s,” he said, tracing a jagged line downward with his finger. “They think that’s when the Anasazi Indians were forced out. We see drought cycles here that can go up to 60 years of below-average precipitation.” What that would mean today, he said, is that states would have to make a sudden choice between agriculture and people, which would lead to bruising political debates and an unavoidable blow to the former. Binney says that as much as he believes that some farmers’ water is ultimately destined for the cities anyway, a big jolt like this would be tragic. “You hope you never get to that point,” he told me, “where you force those kinds of discussions, because they will change for hundreds of years the way that people live in the Western U.S. If you have to switch off agriculture, it’s not like you can get back into it readily. It took decades for the agricultural industry to establish itself. It may never come back.”

An even darker possibility is that a Western drought caused by climatic variation and a drought caused by global warming could arrive at the same time. Or perhaps they already have. This coming spring, the United Nations’ Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change will issue a report identifying areas of the world most at risk of droughts and floods as the earth warms. Fresh-water shortages are already a global concern, especially in China, India and Africa. But the I.P.C.C., which along with Al Gore received the 2007 Nobel Peace Prize earlier this month for its work on global-warming issues, will note that many problem zones are located within the United States, including California (where the Sierra Nevada snowpack is threatened) and the Colorado River basin. These assessments follow on the heels of a number of recent studies that analyze mountain snowpack and future Colorado River flows. Almost without exception, recent climate models envision reductions that range from the modest to the catastrophic by the second half of this century. One study in particular, by Martin Hoerling and Jon Eischeid, suggests the region is already “past peak water,” a milestone that means the river’s water supply will now forever trend downward.

Climatologists seem to agree that global warming means the earth will, on average, get wetter. According to Richard Seager, a scientist at Columbia University’s Lamont Doherty Earth Observatory who published a study on the Southwest last spring, more rain and snow will fall in those regions closer to the poles and more precipitation is likely to fall during sporadic, intense storms rather than from smaller, more frequent storms. But many subtropical regions closer to the equator will dry out. The models analyzed by Seager, which focus on regional climate rather than Colorado River flows, show that the Southwest will ultimately be subject to significant atmospheric and weather alterations. More alarming, perhaps, is that the models do not only concern the coming decades; they also address the present. “You know, it’s like, O.K., there’s trouble in the future, but how near in the future does it set in?” he told me. “In this case, it appears that it’s happening right now.” When I asked if the drought in his models would be permanent, he pondered the question for a moment, then replied: “You can’t call it a drought anymore, because it’s going over to a drier climate. No one says the Sahara is in drought.”

Climate models tend to be more accurate at predicting temperature than precipitation. Still, it’s hard to avoid the conclusion that “something is happening,” as Peter Binney gently puts it. Everyone I spoke with in the West has noticed — less snow, earlier spring melts, warmer nights. Los Angeles this year went 150 days without a measurable rainfall. One afternoon in Boulder, I spent some time with Roger Pulwarty, a highly regarded climatologist at the National Oceanographic Atmospheric Administration. Pulwarty, who has spent the past few years assessing adaptive solutions to a long drought, has a light sense of humor and an air of optimism about him, but he acknowledged that the big picture is worrisome. Even if the precipitation in the West does not decrease, higher temperatures by themselves create huge complications. Snowmelt runoff decreases. The immense reservoirs lose far more water to evaporation. Meanwhile, demand increases because crops are thirstier. Yet importing water from other river basins becomes more difficult, because those basins may face shortages, too.

“You don’t need to know all the numbers of the future exactly,” Pulwarty told me over lunch in a local Vietnamese restaurant. “You just need to know that we’re drying. And so the argument over whether it’s 15 percent drier or 20 percent drier? It’s irrelevant. Because in the long run, that decrease, accumulated over time, is going to dry out the system.” Pulwarty asked if I knew the projections for what it would take to refill Lake Powell, which is at about 50 percent of capacity. Twenty years of average flow on the Colorado River, he told me. “Good luck,” he said. “Even in normal conditions we don’t get 20 years of average flow. People are calling for more storage on the system, but if you can’t fill the reservoirs you have, I don’t know how more storage, or more dams, is going to help you. One has to ask if the normal strategies that we have are actually viable anymore.”

Pulwarty is convinced that the economic impacts could be profound. The worst outcome, he suggested, would be mass migrations out of the region, along with bitter interstate court battles over the dwindling water supplies. But well before that, if too much water is siphoned from agriculture, farm towns and ranch towns will wither. Meanwhile, Colorado’s largest industry, tourism, might collapse if river flows became a trickle during summertime. Already, warmer temperatures have brought on an outbreak of pine beetles that are destroying pine forests; Pulwarty wonders how many tourists will want to visit a state full of dead trees. “A crisis is an interesting thing,” he said. In his view, a crisis is a point in a story, a moment in a narrative, that presents an opportunity for characters to think their way through a problem. A catastrophe, on the other hand, is something different: it is one of several possible outcomes that follow from a crisis. “We’re at the point of crisis on the Colorado,” Pulwarty concluded. “And it’s at this point that we decide, O.K., which way are we going to go?”

It is all but imposible to look into the future of the Western states without calling on Pat Mulroy, the head of the Southern Nevada Water Authority. Mulroy has no real counterpart on the East Coast; her nearest analog might be Robert Moses, the notorious New York City planner who built massive infrastructure projects and who almost always found a way around institutional obstructions and financing constraints. She is arguably the most influential and outspoken water manager in the country — a “woman without fear,” as Pulwarty describes her. Pulwarty and Peter Binney respect her willingness to challenge historical water-sharing agreements that, in Mulroy’s view, no longer suit the modern West (meaning they don’t suit Las Vegas). According to Binney, however, Nevada’s scant resources give Mulroy little choice. She has to keep her city from drying out. That makes hers the most difficult job in the water business, he told me.

Las Vegas is almost certainly more vulnerable to water shortages than any metro area in the country. Partly that’s a result of the city’s explosive growth. But the state of Nevada has the historical misfortune of receiving a smaller share of Colorado River water (300,000 acre-feet annually) than the other six states with which it signed a water-sharing compact in the 1920s. That modest share, stored in Lake Mead along with water destined for Southern California, Arizona and northern Mexico, now means everything to Las Vegas. I traveled to Lake Mead on a 99-degree day last June. The narrow, 110-mile-long lake, which at full capacity holds 28 million acre-feet of water (making it the largest reservoir in the United States), was at 49 percent of capacity. When riding into the valley and glimpsing it from afar — an astonishing slash of blue in the desert — my guide for the day, Bronson Mack of the Southern Nevada Water Authority, remarked that he had never seen it so low. The white bathtub ring on the sides of the canyon that marks the level of full capacity was visible about 100 feet above the water. “I have a photograph of my mother on her honeymoon, standing in front of the lake,” Mack, a Las Vegas native, said. That was in 1970. “It was almost that low, but not quite.”

Over the past year, it has become conceivable that the lake could eventually drop below the level of the water authority’s intake pipes, the straws that suck the water out for the Las Vegas Valley. The authority recently hired an engineering firm to drill through several miles of rock and create a deeper intake pipe near the bottom of the lake. To say the project is being fast-tracked is an understatement. The day after visiting Lake Mead, I met with Mulroy in her Las Vegas office. “We have everything in line to get it running by 2012,” she said of the new intake. But she added that she is looking to cut as much time off construction as possible. Building the new intake is a race against the clock, or rather a race against a lake that keeps going down, down, down.

Mulroy is not gambling the entire future of Las Vegas on this project. One catchphrase of the water trade is that water flows uphill toward money, which is another way of saying that a city with ample funds can, at least theoretically, augment its supplies indefinitely. In a tight water market like that of the West, this isn’t an absolute truth, but in many instances money can move rivers. The trade-off is that new water tends to be of lower quality (requiring more expensive purification) or far away (requiring more expensive transport). Thanks to Las Vegas’s growth — the metro area is now at 1.8 million people — cost is currently no object. The city’s cash reserves have made it possible for Mulroy to pay Arizona $330 million for water she can use in emergencies and to plan a controversial multibillion-dollar pipeline to east-central Nevada, where the water authority has identified groundwater it wants to extract and transport. Wealth allows for the additional possibility of a sophisticated trading scheme whereby Las Vegas might pay for a desalination plant on the Pacific Coast that would transform seawater into potable water for use in California and Mexico. In exchange, Nevada could get a portion of their Colorado River water in Lake Mead.

So money does make a kind of sustainability possible for Las Vegas. On the other hand, buying water is quite unlike buying anything else. At the moment, water doesn’t really function like a private good; its value, which Peter Binney calls “infinite,” is often only vaguely related to its price, which can vary from 50 cents an acre-foot (what Mulroy pays to take water from Lake Mead) to $12,000 an acre-foot (the most Binney has paid farmers in Colorado for their rights). Moreover, water is so necessary to human life, and hence so heavily subsidized and regulated, that it can’t really be bought and sold freely across state lines. (Enron tried to start a water market called Azurix in the late 1990s, only to see it fail spectacularly.) The more successful water markets have instead been local, like one in the late 1980s in California, where farmers agreed to reduce their water use and sell the savings to a state water bank. Mulroy and Binney each told me they think a true free-market water exchange would create too many winners and losers. “What you would have is affluent communities being able to buy the lifeblood right out from under those that are less well heeled,” Mulroy said. More practical, in her mind, would be a regional market that gives states, cities and farmers greater freedom to strike mutually beneficial agreements, but with protections so that municipalities aren’t pitted against one another.

More-efficient water markets might ease shortages, but they can’t replace a big city’s principal source. What if, I asked Mulroy, Lake Mead drained nearly to the bottom? Even if drought conditions ease over the next year or two, several people I spoke with think the odds are greater that Lake Powell, the 27-million-acre-foot reservoir that supplies Lake Mead, will drop to unusable levels before it ever fills again. Mulroy didn’t immediately dismiss the possibility; she is certain that the reduced circumstances of the two big Western reservoirs are tied to global warming and that Las Vegas is this country’s first victim of climate change. An empty Lake Mead, she began, would mean there is nothing in Lake Powell.

“It’s well outside probabilities,” she said — but it could happen. “In that case, it’s not just a Las Vegas problem. You have three entire states wiped out: Arizona, California and Nevada. Because you can’t replace those volumes with desalted ocean water.” What seems more likely, she said, is that the legal framework governing the Colorado River would preclude such a dire turn of events. Recently, the states that use the Colorado reached a tentative agreement that guarantees Lake Mead will remain partly full under current conditions, even if upstream users have to cut back their withdrawals as a result. The deal supplements a more fundamental understanding that dates to the 1920s. If the river is failing to carry a certain, guaranteed volume of water to Lee’s Ferry, which is just below Lake Powell, the river’s lower-basin states (Nevada, Arizona and California) can legally force the upper-basin states (Colorado, Wyoming, New Mexico and Utah) to reduce or stop their water withdrawals. This contingency, known as a “compact call,” sets the lower-basin states against the upper, but it has never occurred; it is deeply feared by many water managers, because it would ravage the fragile relationship among states and almost certainly lead to a scrum of lawsuits. Yet, last year water managers in Colorado began meeting for the first time to discuss the possibility. In our conversations, Mulroy denied that there would be a compact call, but she pointed out that Las Vegas’s groundwater and desalination plans were going ahead anyway for precautionary reasons.

I asked if limiting the growth of the Las Vegas metro area wouldn’t help. Mulroy bristled. “This country is going to have 100 million additional people in it in the next 25 to 30 years,” she replied. “Tell me where they’re supposed to go. Seriously. Every community says, ‘Not here,’ ‘No growth here,’ ‘There’s too many people here already.’ For a large urban area that is the core economic hub of any particular area, to even attempt to throw up walls? I’m not sure it can be done.” Besides, she added, the problem isn’t growth alone: “We have an exploding human population, and we have a shrinking clean-water supply. Those are on colliding paths. This is not just a Las Vegas issue. This is a microcosm of a much larger issue.” Americans, she went on to say, are the most voracious users of natural resources in the world. Maybe we need to talk about that as well. “The people who move to the West today need to realize they’re moving into a desert,” Mulroy said. “If they want to live in a desert, they have to adapt to a desert lifestyle.” That means a shift from the mindset of the 1930s, when the federal government encouraged people to settle in the West, plant water-intensive crops and make it look like the East Coast. It means landscapes of parched dirt. It means mesquite bushes and palo verde trees for vegetation. It means recycled water. It means gravel lawns. It is the West’s new deal, she seemed to be saying, and I got the feeling that for Mulroy it means that every blade of grass in her state would soon be gone.

The first impulse when confronted with the West’s water problems may be to wonder how, as scarcity becomes more acute, the region will engineer its way back to health. What can be built, what can technology accomplish, to ease any shortages? Yet this is almost certainly the wrong way to think about the situation. To be sure, construction projects like a pipeline from east-central Nevada could help Las Vegas. But the larger difficulty facing Pat Mulroy and Peter Binney, as they describe it, is re-engineering the culture and conventions of the West before it becomes too late. Whether or not there is enough water in the region for, say, the next 30 or 50 years isn’t necessarily a question with a yes-or-no answer. The water managers I spoke with believe the total volume of available water could be great enough to sustain the cities, many farms and perhaps the natural flow of the area’s rivers. But it’s not unreasonable to assume that if things continue as they have — with so much water going to agriculture; with conservation only beginning to take hold among residents, industry and farmers; with supplies diminishing slowly but steadily as the Earth warms; with the population growing faster than anywhere else in the United States; and with some of our most economically vital states constricted by antique water agreements — the region will become a topography of crisis and perhaps catastrophe. This is an old prophecy, dating back more than a century to one of the original American explorers of the West, John Wesley Powell, who doubted the territory could support large populations and intense development. (Powell presciently argued that river basins, not arbitrary mapmakers, should determine the boundaries of the Western states, in order to avoid inevitable conflicts over water.) An earlier explorer, J. C. Ives, visited the present location of Hoover Dam, between Arizona and Nevada, in 1857. The desiccated landscape was “valueless,” Ives reported. “There is nothing there to do but leave.”

Roger Pulwarty, for his part, rejects the notion of environmental determinism. Nature, in other words, isn’t inexorably pushing the region into a grim, suffering century. Things can be done. Redoubling efforts to prevent further climate change, Pulwarty says, is one place to start; another is getting the states that share the Colorado River to reach cooperative arrangements, as they have begun to discuss, for coping with long-term droughts. Other parts of the solution are less obvious. To Peter Gleick, head of the Pacific Institute, a nonprofit based in Oakland, Calif., that focuses on global water issues, whether we can adapt to a drier future depends on whether we can rethink the functions, and value, of fresh water. Can we can do the same things using less of it? How we use our water, Gleick believes, is considerably more complex than it appears. First of all, there are consumptive and nonconsumptive uses of water. Consumptive use, roughly speaking, refers to water taken from a reservoir that cannot be recovered. “It’s embedded in a product like a liter of Coca-Cola, or it’s contaminated so badly we can’t reuse it,” Gleick says. In agriculture, the vast majority of water use is also consumptive, because it evaporates or transpires from crops into the atmosphere. Evaporated water may fall as rain 1,000 miles away — that’s how Earth’s water cycle works — but it is gone locally. A similar consumptive process characterizes the water we put on our lawns or gardens: it mostly disappears. Meanwhile, most of the water used by metropolitan areas is nonconsumptive. It goes down the drain and empties into nearby rivers, like Colorado’s South Platte, as treated wastewater.

Gleick calls the Colorado River “the most complicated water system in the world,” and he isn’t convinced it will be easy, or practical, to change the laws that govern its usage. “But I think it’s less hard to change how we use water,” he says. He accepts that climate change is confronting the West with serious problems. (He was also one of the country’s first scientists, in the mid-1980s, to point out that reductions in mountain snowpack could present huge challenges.) He makes a persuasive case, however, that there are immense opportunities — even in cities like Las Vegas, which has made strides in conservation — to reduce both consumptive and nonconsumptive demand for water. These include installing more low-flow home appliances and adopting more efficient irrigation methods. And they include economic tools too: for example, many municipalities have reduced consumption by making water more expensive (the more you use, the higher your per-gallon rate). The United States uses less water than it did 25 years ago, Gleick points out: “We haven’t even paid too much attention to it, and we’ve accomplished this.” To go further, he says he believes we could alter not only demand but also supply. “Treated wastewater isn’t a liability, it’s an asset,” he says. We don’t need potable water to flush our toilets or water our lawns. “One might say that’s a ridiculous use of potable water. In fact, I might say that. But that’s the way we’ve set it up. And that’s going to change, that’s got to change, in this century.”

Among Colorado’s water managers, Peter Binney’s Prairie Waters project is considered both innovative and important not on account of its technology but because it seems to mark a new era of finding water sources in the drying West. It also proves that the next generation’s water will not come cheap, or come easy. In late July, I went to Aurora to meet up again with Binney. It was the groundbreaking day for Prairie Waters, which had been on the local television news: Binney and several other officials grinned for the cameras and signed a section of six-foot steel pipe, the same kind that would transport water from the South Platte wells to the Aurora treatment facility. That evening, Binney and I had dinner together at a steakhouse in an Aurora shopping mall. When he remarked that we may have exceeded what he calls the “carrying capacity” of the West, I asked him whether our desert civilizations could last. Binney seemed dubious. “Not the way we’ve got it set up,” he said. “We’ve decoupled land use from water use. Water is the limiting resource in the West. I think we need to match them back together again.” There was a decent amount of water out there, he went on to explain, but it was a false presumption that it could sustain all the farms, all the cities, all the rivers. Something will have to give. It was also wrong to assume, he said, that cities could continue to grow without experiencing something akin to a religious awakening about the scarcity of water. Soon, he predicted, we would talk about our “water footprint” just as we now talk about our carbon footprint.

Indeed, any conversations about the one will in short order expand to include the other, Binney went on to say. Many water managers have known this for a while. The two problems — water and energy — are so intimately linked as to make it exceedingly difficult to tackle one without the other. It isn’t just the matter of growing corn for ethanol, which is already straining water supplies. The less water in our rivers, for instance, the less hydropower our dams produce. The further the water tables sink, the more power it takes to pump water up. The more we depend on coal and nuclear power plants, which require huge amounts of water for cooling, the larger the burden we place on supplies.

Meanwhile, it is a perverse side effect of global warming that we may have to emit large volumes of carbon dioxide to obtain the clean water that is becoming scarcer because of the carbon dioxide we’ve already put into the atmosphere. A dry region that turns to desalination, for example, would need vast amounts of energy (and money) to purify its water. While wind-powered desalination could perhaps meet this challenge — such a plant was recently built outside Perth, Australia — it isn’t clear that coastal residents in, say, California would welcome such projects. Unclear, too, is how dumping the brine that is a by-product of the process back into the ocean would affect ecosystems.

Similar energy challenges face other plans. In past years, various schemes have arisen to move water from Canada or the Great Lakes to arid parts of the United States. Beyond the environmental implications and construction costs (probably hundreds of billions of dollars), such continental-scale plumbing would require stupendous amounts of electricity. And yet, fears that such plans will resurface in a drier, more populous world are partly behind current efforts by the Great Lakes states to certify a pact that protects their fresh water from outside exploitation.

Just pumping water from the Prairie Waters site to Aurora will cost a small fortune. Binney told me this the day after the groundbreaking, as we drove north from Aurora to the site. Along the 45-minute journey, Binney narrated where his pipeline would go — along the edge of the highway here, over in that field there and so on. Eventually we turned off the highway and onto a small country road, and Binney slowed down so I could take in the surroundings. “Here’s where you see it all coming together and all of it coming into conflict,” he told me. To him, it was a perfect tableau of the West in the 21st century. There was a housing development on one side of the road and fields of irrigated crops on the other. Farther ahead was a gravel pit, a remnant of the old Colorado mineral-extraction economy.

He drove on, and soon we turned onto a dirt road that bisected some open fields. We rumbled along for a quarter mile or so, spewing dust and passing over the South Platte in the process. Binney parked by a wire fence near a sign marking it as Aurora property. We got out of the truck, hopped over a locked gate and walked into a farm field.

For miles along the highway, we passed barren acreage that formerly grew winter wheat but was now slated for new houses. The land we stood on once grew corn, but tangles of weeds covered it now. As we walked, Binney explained that the collection wells on the South Platte would soon be dug a few hundred yards away; that water would be pumped into collection basins on this field, where sand and gravel would purify it further. Then it would be pumped back to the chemical treatment plants in Aurora before being piped to residents. “We’re standing 34 miles from there,” Binney said.

It was a location as ordinary as I could have imagined, an empty place, far from anything, and yet Binney saw it as something else. Earlier, when we crossed over the gravel banks of the South Platte, I found the river disappointing: broad and shallow, dun-colored and slow-moving, its unimpressive flow somehow incorporating water Aurora had already used upstream. James Michener, in writing about this region years ago, was dead-on in calling it “a sad, bewildered nothing of a river.” Still, the South Platte was dependable. It was also Aurora’s lifeline, buying the city 20 or 30 years of time. “What I really like about it,” Binney said, smiling as we walked from the field back to his truck, “is that it’s wet.”

Jon Gertner is a contributing writer for the magazine.
  1. Dear Readers, In recent months, I have posted my public writing to my free Substack. I have such fond memories of Google Blogspot, thus it deeply surprises me that Google's search engine does a terrible job in helping those who search to find past blog posts. This deeply surprises me. As I age, I'm trying to post more dignified material to my Substack. I am sticking to what I know based on my ongoing research in microeconomics. Thanks very much for reading my posts. Best Regards, Matthew E. Kahn
  2. I have moved my blog over to Substack (and I've lost many readers). Please join me there. Here is a recent column. The Wall Street Journal has published an important piece about how the high heat is reducing economic activity in Houston. The piece has a pessimistic tone that the heat melts the city’s infrastructure and shaves off economic activity as people don’t want to go outside. When microeconomists study consumer expenditure dynamics as people buy cars, go out to dinner and buy groceries. During hot spells, people are less likely to go out for dinner or to play multiple rounds of golf. A microeconomist would say that this evidence indicates that people have “state dependent preferences”. In English, this means that how much we enjoy a steak dinner at an outdoor restaurant depends on whether it is 75 degrees outside or 95 degrees outside (this is the “state of the world”). I certainly believe that hot and humid Houston is in a type of “macroeconomic Siesta” right now and this reduces economic activity. But, permit me to make some counter-points. #1 The money people in Houston do not spend on the hot July 28th 2023 is still in their bank account and they can spend it on a cooler November 5th 2023 day. Note this intertemporal substitution. The media focuses on the direct effect of the heat (that high heat is reducing economic activity today) but my counter-hypothesis is that it displaces expenditure to the future when it will be cooler later this year in Houston. So, will the New York Times write a piece saying that high summer heat causes a fall boom in Houston? I don’t think so. This type of cross-elasticity is ignored by the “climate crisis” focused media. #2 The WSJ interviewed a few people who want to leave Houston. As always, they are free to choose. As more workers can engage in WFH, those who hate the high heat will leave the city in summer. If they own a home, they can AirBNB it. WFH is a climate adaptation strategy as it makes people more geographically footloose. I discuss this in my 2022 book. #3 We have to live somewhere. Is Houston becoming more miserable to live in summer than other cities? If the answer is “yes”, then its home prices will fall. Here are some data from Zillow.
    Even with higher interest rates, I don’t see a collapse here in the Zillow index. Are you going to sell short Houston homes as your strategy to get rich? Incumbent home owners form a strong interest group to invest in adaptation strategies to protect their asset’s value. WHAT are possible adaptation strategies? #1 Road construction materials can be re-evaluated to reduce the urban heat island effect. Read this report. The City has strong incentives to embrace the cost-effective strategies discussed here. #2 Golf courses can open up part of the area and charge people to enter on hot days to use them as private parks. #3 Here are personal cooling strategies. On a personal level, of course the city needs access to strong air conditioning. Firms that make them and repair them will enjoy a boom. The Electricity GRID must remain reliable. The Climatopolis logic is that Houston competes with other cities to attract successful people and firms. The system of cities and the fear of brain drain gives Houston’s leaders and land owners strong incentives to be pro-active in adapting to climate change. Such efforts will be messy as there will be fights over who pays for such local public goods but the end result will be a more resilient Houston where the high heat causes less economic damage in the short term and medium term. This is the climate change adaptation hypothesis.
  3. The New Economic Geography of WFH Matthew E. Kahn Over the last three years, companies from all over the world have learned valuable information about how their firm’s productivity and worker satisfaction is affected when workers can engage in Work from Home (WFH) on at least a part-time basis. Each firm faces fundamental tradeoffs in not requiring workers to return full time to the office. On the one hand, WFH accommodates worker lifestyles and responsibilities at home. WFH workers gain from commuting less often and some may choose to live further from their place of work because they commute in on fewer days. Firms with happier workers are less likely to face retention challenges and will pay less retraining workers. Given that WFH is a non-taxed perk, firms that offer this job amenity can be less generous in giving workers pay raises. Firms located in expensive areas can economize on expensive commercial real estate. If a firm requires that workers be in the office just half the week, then a firm can reduce its space requirements by 50%! On the other hand, firms benefit from face to face communication. Younger workers gain more from such mentoring. Building up the firm’s culture and monitoring worker effort is easier to do if workers are on site. Each company has a strong incentive to experiment with different workplace practices to learn what works best for their organization. The pursuit of profit actually accelerates this learning process. Economists are always looking for new ways to study firm dynamics. The rise of the WFH economy opens up many questions related to what types of firms will encourage their workers to engage in WFH. Famous executives such as Elon Musk at Tesla and Jamie Dimon at JP Morgan have been encouraging workers to return to the office. Why? Up until now, a lack of data has hindered the systematic analysis of what types of firms prioritize allowing workers to engage in WFH on at least a part-time basis. The newly released Flex Index provides a unique opportunity for researchers. As an urban economist, I am especially interested in the geographic determinants of why different firms engage in hybrid-WFH. The Flex Index provides data on each firm’s headquarters’ location. I focus on those that are based in the United States. I use data for 2528 of them. For this set of firms, I merged in three geographic variables. The first variable is the Zillow Median Home Price Index. Zillow uses a repeat home price index methodology to create a standardized “apples to apples” measure of home prices that can be compared across cities at a point in time or within a given city over time. In the analysis I present below I use Zillow data from December 2022. The second variable I merge in to the Flex Index is the percent of voters in the Headquarters State that voted for Joe Biden in the 2020 Presidential Election. The third variable I merge in from the Zillow data base is the city’s size. So, New York City is the first ranked city in the nation because it is the largest city. I use these data to test two hypotheses; Hypothesis #1: All else equal, firms are more likely to engage in WFH work if home prices are higher in the HQ City. Hypothesis #2: All else equal, firms are more likely to engage in WFH in more Progressive states. To test these hypotheses, I use a linear multivariate regression framework. To standardize the firms, I include industry fixed effects (this variable is in the Flex Index database). The dependent variable is a dummy variable that equals one if the firm’s workers all work on site. In the database, 39% of the firms report having the workers work fully on site. Table One reports four regressions with each column reporting a separate regression. I use the regression output to test the hypotheses presented above. Main Results All else equal, firms are more likely to engage WFH work if home prices are higher in the Headquarter (HQ) City. Based on the results in columns (1) and (3), I find that for the full set of industries and for the Healthcare and Biotechnology industry that workers are more likely to be engaging in WFH if home prices are higher in the HQ’s city. Based on the results in column (2), a doubling of home prices is associated with a log(2)*-.088 = -.06 or a six percentage point reduction in workers working solely on site. This effect is even larger for the Health Care industry. For this subset of firms, a doubling of local home prices is associated with a 12.7 percentage point increase in WFH. For the other two industries, I fail to reject the hypothesis that firms are not more likely to allow workers to engage in WFH as a function of local home prices. All else equal, firms are more likely to engage in WFH in more Progressive states. The test of this hypothesis is based on the coefficient on the 2020 Joe Biden vote share. Across all four specifications presented in Table One, I find consistent evidence that firms are more likely to allow their workers to engage in WFH when the HQ is located in a more liberal state. A ten percentage point increase in Joe Biden’s vote share is associated with a 3 percentage point increase in the probability that a firm allows its workers to engage in WFH on at least a part-time basis. Conclusion The Flex Index is a terrific new data source that allows empirical researchers to study how different firms are incorporating WFH into their work routines. In my 2022 Going Remote book, I hypothesized that the rise of WFH would benefit workers in high home price areas. The evidence presented here supports this hypothesis. Here, I also find a Red State/Blue State divide such that firms located in Blue States are more likely to allow their workers to engage in WFH. Future research should explain why we observe this fact. Are such firms in progressive states more concerned about work/life balance and gender equality issues? There are many open questions that improved data access will allow for us to provide credible answers.
  4. A majority of American adults live in owner occupied housing. As an economist, I celebrate the logic of revealed preference. While many poor people are renters, many non-poor people reveal that the benefits of ownership exceed the costs. In this entry, I would like to delve into the details here. Up front, let me say that I don’t want to discuss the tax code and the nitty gritty of mortgage interest deductions, the GSEs, etc. Instead, I want to talk about why people gain life satisfaction from ownership and what are some of the hidden costs of ownership under our current “rules of the game”. As an urban economist, I want to contrast the private benefits to an adult of owning a home and the local social benefits conveyed to a community when it consists of home owners. Portfolio Risk from Home Ownership Let’s start with a personal example. Back in 2000, We purchased a home in Belmont, MA (a Boston suburb), we paid 1/2 in cash and got a loan for the rest. The cash we invested in the home had a next best alternative. We could have invested in a diversified portfolio of assets rather than making a place based bet. By buying this home, we were raising our migration costs for moving away from Boston and thus were losing some option value if the local economy performed worse than the rest of the nation. A strange feature of the housing market is that owners hold an undiversified portfolio. Imagine an alternative world where I could own 36% of my Belmont home and own 2% of 32 other homes scattered around the United States. This would be a more diversified portfolio. Of course there would be contracting issues in designing this contract. My friend and co-author Joe Tracy co-authored a MIT Press book on implementing these contracts. The Past Rate of Return on Housing for African-Americans In 2021, I released an NBER Working Paper where I use several data sets to make a simple point. Here is my paper’ abstract: “The racial and ethnic composition of home buyers varies across geographic locations. For example, Asians and Hispanics are much more likely to buy homes in California than Blacks and Blacks are more likely to buy homes in Georgia than other demographic groups. Home prices grow at different rates across geographic units such as counties or zip codes. Hedonic bundling inhibits buyers from purchasing shares of different homes and forming a spatially diversified housing portfolio. Spatial variation in purchases suggests that the average rate of return to housing varies across racial and ethnic groups. To test this claim, I construct a geographic shift-share index by combining Zillow geographic specific home price index data with HMDA micro data. The shift share calculations yield the average rate of return to home ownership by purchase year, and sale year for different demographic groups. Over the years 2007 to 2020, Blacks earned a lower rate of return on home purchases than Asians and Hispanics and the sample average. Within geographic areas, average loan differences across racial and ethnic groups are very small.” Let’s unpack this. Over the last 25 years, cities such as San Francisco, Boston, Portland, Seattle, San Jose, Malibu, and Santa Monica have boomed. None of these cities is known to be an African-American city. African-Americans tend to buy in other cities such as Baltimore, Cleveland and Detroit. What is going on here? (and of course I am telling an Average story —- LeBron James lives close to me in Los Angeles’s Brentwood). African-Americans on average have lower wealth than Whites and are less likely to be able to afford the down payment to buy housing in Superstar Cities. African-Americans are less likely to work in Tech than Whites and Asians and this reduces the likelihood that they are living in the major tech hubs. In the areas where African-Americans have ties, house prices have not appreciated much and this means that the AVERAGE African-American homeowner has earned a lower rate of return on housing over the last 25 years. Going forward (from 2023 to 2040) will Baltimore’s housing market outperform San Jose’s? This is possible. In my recent WFH Going Remote book, I present microeconomic arguments for why this is possible if Baltimore improves its quality of life. In closing this section, I want my readers thinking about opportunity cost. If an African-American family owns housing in Baltimore then that money is not invested in the SP500 stock market index. Opportunity cost for asset investments always exist. What About the Consumption Value of Home Ownership? When we teach Econ 101, we introduce our students to the utility function. This is the economist’s “thermometer” measuring how much pleasure we gain from different consumption bundles such as consuming beer or pizza. The consumer knows herself and knows her budget constraint and makes the right (affordable) consumption choice. Assuming people are consistent over time, we learn about their priorities from the choices they make as market prices and their income changes. With this preamble, why does home ownership raise one’s utility? One hypothesis is “pride of ownership”. But what do these words mean? Economists have struggled with modeling the demand for “status”. Economists have taken Veblen seriously and have sought tests of which subgroups of people seek to own and display luxury goods to signal that they are special. Here is a paper about cars and jewelry ownership. Of course, I understand the desire for status. I continue to submit papers to Top 5 journals and to track my Twitter Follower count! But, the point of this 1/2 joke is that there is an ever increasing number of strategies for producing “status”. As I age, I gain pride by reaching my Google Fit target of 10,000 steps a day. During my life time, I have lived in fancy rental housing in Manhattan, Singapore, and Baltimore. Given the changing demographics of our population, real estate suppliers will offer rental properties if there is demand. Don’t Renters Face Displacement Risk and Gentrification Risk? Yes, but if this is a serious concern then renters can sign longer term contracts up front. Scottie Pippen signed a 10 year contract with the Chicago Bulls at the start of his career because of his fear of injury. In a renter economy, there would be less support for local NIMBYism and real estate developers would build more housing and this would reduce rent rise risk. The ongoing conversion of commercial urban real estate into residential housing also reduces the likelihood of medium term rent spikes. I claim that it is time to visit this important paper by Todd and Nick. Sinai, Todd, and Nicholas S. Souleles. "Owner-occupied housing as a hedge against rent risk." The Quarterly Journal of Economics 120, no. 2 (2005): 763-789. Neighborhood Social Capital Boosts Due to Home Ownership? Ed Glaeser and Denise DiPasquale have posited a positive spillover that when real estate is owner occupied that the owner has the right incentives to maintain the property (to maintain the resale value) and to not free-ride in terms of neighborhood attributes such as safety and neighborhood greenness. Their empirical strategy in their applied research was to use panel data at the individual level and observe how the same person behaves before and after she becomes a home owner. A field experiment researcher would want to go a step further and randomly assign similar people at the baseline to renting versus owning and then observe how their home is treated and how their neighborhood’s quality of life changes over time. I greatly admire their work here but I want to be provocative and argue that their work is out of date due to technological change. I want to return to a paper by Baker, George P., and Thomas N. Hubbard. "Contractibility and asset ownership: On-board computers and governance in US trucking." The Quarterly Journal of Economics 119, no. 4 (2004): 1443-1479. These authors tell the following story. Back in the 1970s, truck drivers bringing stuff from California to Baltimore markets had private information about their routes and effort. The food company gave the truck driver a share of the profits to incentivize them to not shirk with respect to effort. The advent of cheap GPS computers meant that the food company could easily monitor the trucker and could now pay him a fixed wage. The same idea holds in 2023 for rental housing. The big data monitor era allows the property manager to have a very good sense of how the tenant is using the property and what is going on in the local neighborhood. If crime rises, the property manager can hire private guards. If litter increases, a crew can be hired to pick up the trash. Markets substitute for social capital and volunteering! Conclusion The modern Economy’s Big Data revolution and climate change risk both create incentives for more of us to be renters. Going forward if more of us are renters in the year 2040; then we gain the following adaptation benefits; #1; Our assets are less exposed to place based shocks (i.e Hurricane Ian), #2 we hold a real option to move away from areas that turn out to be at greater risk from shocks, #3 There is less lobbying for place based subsidies using national subsidies because “victims” have fewer place based assets at risk (i.e we are each holding a more diversified portfolio). If government steps back from insurance markets, the private sector will step up its game and insurance innovation will further spur the pace of climate change adaptation. If these ideas interest you, read my 2021 Yale Press book Adapting to Climate Change.
  5. Climate change adaptation refers to our individual and collective ability to cope with Mother Nature’s more intense weather punches in terms of extreme heat, drought, fire, flood and many other place based risks. My microeconomics research, as sketched out in my 2010 Climatopolis book and my 2021 Adapting to Climate Change books, argues that capitalism accelerates our ability to adapt as market price signals encourage substitution and innovation. Whether government policy complements the private sector muffles the private sector’s efforts continues to be a major research topic. In my 2010 Climatopolis book, I asked; “If Milton Friedman ran the U.S FEMA (and thus committed to no generous ex-post bailouts to shocked places) how much faster would adaptation occur?” In my ongoing empirical work, I continue to study how extreme weather affects our economy. I see evidence of adaptation progress as the “climate damage function” flattens and this means that the same punches thrown by Mother Nature cause less damage over time. My students are studying this hypothesis in the developing world and investigating what frictions (such as government policy) inhibit adaptation from taking place. An example would be government price supports for agriculture that create a moral hazard effect. See this 2015 paper set in the United States. My Thoughts About the Work by Two Talented New York Times Journalists The New York Times continues to be the paper of record. Two of the leading authors for the Times are Christopher Flavelle and David Wallace-Wells. I link to their work so you can read it on your own. David recently published a huge New York Times Magazine piece that you can read here. I want to keep this entry short but I plan to expand upon the themes I present below. I must acknowledge upfront that I have not interviewed either of them about their climate change adaptation pessimism. My points I present here are based on my reading of their work. How Does a “Climate “Crisis” Emerge? Global greenhouse gas emissions will continue to rise. Read our 2022 NBER paper. We do not know how much global average temperatures will rise due to rising emissions and we do not know what “crazy” weather will emerge because of what we have collectively unleashed. In a series of case studies, Flavelle argues that we have built up billions of dollars of place based capital in increasingly risky areas such as Florida that face more severe disaster risk. He emphasizes the moral hazard effect that the expectation that there will be Federal Bailouts of struck areas encourages more rebuilding in these areas. So, he is telling a story that we do not learn from our mistakes. He does not explain who is the “adult in the room”? Why don’t city urban planners, the mortgage lending industry, the real estate development industry, the insurance industry adopt new “rules of the game” so that new real estate development is nudged to “higher ground” or if we build in risky places that private actors are incentivized to invest in pre-cautions that reduce the damage caused by the next storm. Starting with my Climatopolis book, I have argued that if people make place based bets (such as investing in Miami real estate), then they should flip two sided coins. They get to keep the upside appreciation if local prices rise but they also must “eat” the downside loss if local prices decline because of rising risk and better opportunities in other real estate markets such as Boston or Houston or Buffalo. I do respect his point that the public sector activism in insurance markets is causing an important free market distortion. As the social cost of this distortion rises, economic theory predicts that political reform will take place. Why should tax payers on “higher ground” bail out risk takers over and over again? Why reward “bad behavior”? As we saw with the economy’s reorganization during the COVID crisis of 2020, markets adapt and change when new news occurs if government does not distort price signals. The rise of the Zoom WFH experiment was an amazing example of adaptation. David Wallace-Wells argues that adaptation is costly and will exacerbate existing inequality. A quote “Talk enough about adaptation, and you drift into technical-seeming matters: Can new dikes be built, or the most vulnerable communities resettled? Can crop lands be moved, and new drought-resistant seeds developed? Can cooling infrastructure offset the risks of new heat extremes, and early warning systems protect human life from natural disaster? How much help can innovation be expected to provide in dealing with environmental challenges never seen before in human history? But perhaps the more profound questions are about distribution: Who gets those seeds? Who manages to build those dikes? Who is exposed when they fail or go unbuilt? And what is the fate of those most frontally assaulted by warming? The political discourse orbiting these issues is known loosely as “climate justice”: To what extent will climate change harden and deepen already unconscionable levels of global inequality, and to what degree can the countries of the global south engineer and exit from the already oppressive condition that the scholar Farhana Sultana has called “climate coloniality”?” These are great questions but note that these are economics questions. What is the quality adjusted price of the goods we need to continue to be safe, comfortable and healthy? David Wallace-Wells owns a computer and a cell phone. These products didn’t exist in 1940. Every day they grow cheaper and become of higher quality. This is what market competition does. More poor people in the developing world can afford these products as quality adjusted prices decline. Note that Wallace-Wells is rightly concerned with poverty and the challenges that poor people will face going forward. An economist would reply to his pessimism; “okay, you are not worried about Elon Musk’s ability to adapt to new risks. Let’s rank all of the world’s population with respect to their income. Who are the people who currently do not have the capacity to adapt to the serious challenges that wacky weather is posing? What income growth would give them the opportunity to adapt? Why isn’t this income growth occurring? “ Note that David Wallace-Wells is saying that economic growth in the developing world is the key to adapting to climate change. We need poverty alleviation to help everyone to be able to adapt. Here we agree. Economic growth is the key tool for adapting to climate change. Such economic growth reduces poverty. Here is a study of global poverty alleviation by a leading macro-economist. I recognize that I am positing that national economic growth reduces poverty. Is this a controversial claim?
  6. This has been a very hot summer.  For every person on the planet, what is her willingness to pay to avoid this hot summer?  So, on a day when it s 93 degrees on average --- how much is Sally in Seattle willing to pay for this day to have been 78 degrees instead?

    In a "make versus buy" economy, one can either pay God to not face the 93 degree day in Seattle or one can use a suite of adaptation strategies to cope with the high heat.  Basic economic logic teaches us that one's willingness to pay to avoid the heat is bounded by what it would cost you to adapt to the heat.   This blog post focuses on the microeconomic determinants of adapting to the heat.

    I will argue that at any point in time, this adaptation strategy set is almost infinite dimensional and that the dimensions of the adaptation strategy set grow over time so that it gets ever easier for us to adapt to the high heat.  This means that our willingness to pay to avoid facing the extreme heat actually declines over time because it is getting cheaper for us to adapt on our own to the heat.   In my 2021 Adapting to Climate Change book, I expand on this point that the Social Cost of Carbon can actually decline over time for many people as their adaptation choice set grows.

    Let's start with the marginal cost curve that is familiar to anyone who has taken Econ 101.

    Case #1:   A firm produces pizza using a linear production function such that pizza=10*Labor and the price of Labor = 2 each.

    Given the linear production function, the firm can always make one more pizza if it hires .1 workers. It costs $2 per worker so the marginal cost to the firm of producing an extra pizza =2*.1 = 20 cents and this is a constant function.

    Case #2:   A firm produces pizza using a concave production function such that pizza=10*square root of Labor and the price of labor is .4 each.

    In this case the amount of labor needed to make a pizza can be expressed as =  Pizza*Pizza/100  and the $ expenditure to purchase this labor equals Pizza*Pizza/25  .   This mechanical marginal cost function is convex.

    Given this definition of marginal cost, now let's turn to the marginal cost of avoiding heat.  Consider a person in Spain today confronted with high heat where she currently lives and works.  Here is her strategy set for adapting;

    #1   Move to a cooler place (either outdoors or inside such as below ground).  Such migration can be permanent or temporary in an economy featuring cross-city transportation services and AirBNB short term housing.  

    #2   seek out a shady place with a breeze 

    #3  turn on air conditioning or go to a public place with air conditioning,   A theme in my 2010 Climatopolis book was that if an area is known to face rising summer heat then people will change their durables and their home and work place architecture to be better prepared for the heat. We are not passive victims!!

    #4 wear lighter clothing

    #5  use a damp towel

    #6  drink water

    #7  take a Siesta and stop working during the hottest hours

    #8   Eat lightly

    Each of these adaptation strategies has a financial cost and a time cost.  As Gary Becker taught us the full price equals the financial cost + your wage*time cost.   For example, migrating will require more time and for high value of time people, this will mean incurring a larger cost.  

    I will stop here but note the following.  Taking permutations of these various options yields an almost infinite dimensional adaptation choice set.  Modern climate economics assumes that this choice set is stationary. In truth, it expands on a daily basis as we make progress building higher quality durables such as housing and air conditioning units and as we retire older capital and install newer capital.  Modern economics is weak on capital updating problem.  John Rust wrote a famous bus engine replacement paper but climate economists haven't incorporated this logic into the updating of the spatial capital stock.  My paper with Devin Bunten is one attempt to address this issue.

    Once we acknowledge that we have an ever growing set of adaptation strategies that are becoming cheaper and cheaper to use then one becomes more optimistic about the ability of the rich and the poor to adapt to the new serious challenges we face.

    One example of the rising permutations.  More and more educated people now have the opportunity to engage in Work from Home.  These individuals can now more easily take a Siesta on a hot day.  This is an example of the permutations of the strategy set listed above.  

    My critique of modern climate economics is that so many researchers are content to estimate reduced form empirical regressions of the form;

    Person i's suffering on day j in location q =  constant +  b*Extreme heat on day j in location q +   U

    and take "b" as a physics constant.   Assume that "suffering" is measured by lost income and that this can be measured by the statistician.  

    "b" is an interesting reduced form parameter. It represents a slope that measures at a point in time how much suffering extreme heat has caused to the average person who lives at location q at day j.

    My Point  is that "b" is determined by all of the factors I discussed above.   As society's innovation and urban planning continues;  "b" converges to zero over time and this pace of "b" shrinking from a positive number towards zero over time is a measure of our adaptation progress.

    I want to see more climate economists exploring the microeconomic determinants of when does "b" change over time and when does it remain constant.   Government policies that distort adaptation decisions such as subsidies will likely turn out to be a major determinant of slowing down adaptation.

    As the marginal costs of climate adaptation decline, simple economics predicts that more individuals and firms will engage in adaptation (as they compare the benefits to the costs of adaptation) and as they engage in such self protection, the empirical reduced form researcher will estimate climate damage functions showing an ever declining amount of damage caused by climate change.

    The Climate Change adaptation literature needs to take basic microeconomic logic about rational choice more seriously and then we will make more progress understanding the pace of adaptation and the frictions that slow down adaptation.











  7. Is face to face interaction over-rated?   I am not talking about participating in the service economy (i.e getting a haircut), romance, friends and family interaction. I am talking about workplace face to face interactions and the vaunted "Water Cooler" (WC).  

    The cliche WC story has focused on serendipity and spontaneity that occurs when people casually chat about this and that.   This is not "directed search".  

    POINT #1;   Pessimists claim that the rise of WFH-HYBRID work will tax the Water Cooler such that organizations will become less productive.

    Counter-Point:    The pessimists forget what they learned about self-selection.  Workers know themselves, they know when they want to be social and when they want to be left alone.  Such workers also respond to incentives.  If the boss says; "hey , let's get our creative juices flowing".  Workers will respond and be charming and engage on those days.

    I claim that there is quantity and quality of F2F interactions.  The lazy urban economics productivity literature implicitly assumed that F2F interactions are homogeneous and are just a question of their count. So, if you meet with me 1000 times; the probability we have a breakthrough is 10 times higher than if we only meet 100 times face to face. I reject this.  Anyone who has met me knows that sharp diminishing returns kick in -- -in speaking with me!

    POINT #2;   The Water Cooler is a pre-AI, pre-UBER entity.   I am interested in directed search.  UBER matches drivers and riders to achieve efficiency criteria.  Why can't successful firms introduce a type of UBER AI matching to bring different workers together?  Why can't a boss make some recommendations about such matching?

    Point #3  Given successful within firm AI matching of Water Cooler Workers, why do they have to meet at work? Is the firm afraid of romance?   That would be a funny reason for the persistence of the office!

    Point #4;  Pessimists claim that we will get into a bad Nash Equilibrium such that social workers will go to the office and discover nobody to chat with as everyone else will be engaging in WFH on that day. In this age of AI Matching, can this misallocation really persist?


    So, to summarize this blog post;  The Quality versus Quantity tradeoff always exists.    Organizations have strong incentives to experiment here to see how to maintain their productivity under different organizational rules.  How firms adapt to the new opportunity created by WFH is fascinating.

    FINAL POINT:  Note that I set up this blog post such that the spontaneous face to face interactions occur by workers who work at the same firm. In this case, there is a residual claimant who has an incentive to get the rules of engagement right.

    What happens when workers work at different firms but work in the same city?  I doubt that spontaneous F2F is that important for these folks.  There isn't that much time in the day.   You might say that a Harvard economist and a MIT economist can have coffee and make research magic happen if they both go to work. I accept this example but this is a special example. Do Elon Musk's Tesla engineers hang out at the local bar looking to chat with engineers from other firms?   

    Since urban and labor economists do not have a real understanding of the production function of knowledge firms , we don't understand how the time allocation equilibrium induced by WFH will evolve over time.

    Of course, I do think that small firms will want to agglomerate close to each other for Labor pooling reasons but this is distinct from the gains from F2F interaction.  







  8. Millions of American workers engaged in Work from Home (WFH) during the pandemic.   WFH helped us to adapt to the risk of disease contagion.  Going forward, WFH will also helps us to adapt to the rising climate risks we now face.   Given that global greenhouse gas emissions are likely to continue to rise as the world’s population and per-capita income grows faster than the decarbonization of the world economy (declining GHG emissions per dollar of GNP), the climate change challenge will grow more severe over time. 

    New climate risk modelling firms such as First Street Foundation and Jupiter are mapping the risks of flooding and fire risk that every land parcel may face over the next decades. Of course, these science based models cannot offer certainty about emerging risks but they do play a “Paul Revere” role in educating both firms and workers about new place based climate risks.  You can type in any residential address here and First Street Foundation reports the property's expected fire risk and flood risk for free! Going forward, more and more property buyers will "do their climate risk homework" before making a large $ investment in a property.

    Before 2020, only the super rich and senior citizens were “footloose” and able to move to an area solely based on its amenities (or on its absence of risk).   The rise of WFH allows more and more American workers to live where they want to live as their daily commute to work is no longer looming over where they choose to live.  In our recent past,  the expectation that one would commute to work 5 days a week for 48 weeks a year pinned down a worker and her family to specific locations near the corporate headquarters. 

    Perceptions and concerns about emerging climate risks will influence where workers choose to live. Those who are risk lovers will actually be attracted to risky areas because property prices will be lower there! For those WFH eligible workers who are risk averse, their menu of locational choices will expand as they can live further from where they work. 
    While no two WFH workers are identical,  climate change will influence their locational choices.  For those WFH workers who are especially sensitive to air pollution, they will anticipate that elevated fire risk in the American West will create PM2.5 spikes during summer months.  They will figure out how to avoid these areas at those times.   For those WFH workers who are especially risk averse, they will be willing to pay more for housing in places where climate risk modelers predict that they face less risk.   Those WFH workers with niche preferences for leisure and exercise will have increased opportunity to live where they can engage in their hobby and meet like minded people. 

    As different workers choose their own best “climate niche”, this will improve their mental and physical health and raise their workplace productivity.  Surveys of young people have documented extreme ecological anxiety.  The ability to choose one’s own favorite location that will be likely to attract like minded people will help them to better cope in the face of the new risks we face. 

    If WFH workers choose to cluster in relatively safer parts of the U.S that feature less extreme heat, less drought risk, less flood and fire risk then firms will have an incentive to locate their future HQ2s and HQ3s closer to these areas.  Firms will benefit from lower turnover from less burnout and greater worker satisfaction.  Firms that expect that workers will stay with the firm longer have a greater incentive to mentor and invest in such workers.    Firms will use their corporate data on the location of their workforce and can use this information to decide where to open up HQ2s and HQ3s.    An old idea in urban economics focuses on the “chicken and egg” issue of whether people go where the jobs are or whether jobs move to where the people are.   In our emerging economy where more WFH are footloose, they will increasingly take into account the emerging climate risks and move to relatively higher quality of life areas.  As firms see these spatial clusters, the leadership can open up HQ2s closer to these worker hubs to increase face to face interaction and to buildup the company’s corporate culture. 
    Some worry that the rise of WFH is elitist.   As new WFH clusters form in climate resilient places, there will be an increased local service sector demand. This creates a local multiplier effect.  Well paid WFH workers will need local teachers living nearby, dentists, repair people, and there will be jobs in construction.  This increased local labor demand in a relatively high quality of life area featuring lower rents than in the Superstar Cities offers new opportunities for non-WFH eligible workers.
    Today, more educated people are more likely to work in industries and occupations that are WFH “friendly”.   If WFH facilitates adapting to climate change and facing less climate risk, then this creates an extra imperative for improving American education so that more young people can have the option to engage in WFH when they are older. 
    Before 2020, America’s most productive places were located in areas that face emerging risks.  There are worries about flooding in New York City and wildfire risk affecting the American West.  WFH accommodates our diversity.   Millions of workers will have the personal freedom to live where they want to live and this will reduce their stress during a time of rising risk. 

    Matthew E. Kahn is the Provost Professor of Economics at USC and the author of the New Book Going Remote.  This piece presents some ideas from his new book.  

    A Postscript:  Back in 2016, a prominent University of Chicago economist (who does not have a PHD from Chicago!) told me that snowstorms disrupt Chicago's productivity. I countered that I bet that he is even more productive on those days because he didn't go to work and nobody bugged him on such a day.  He just looked at me.  Flash forward to 2022 and I am even more confident about my 2016 comment.  The WFH option is now available to more and more highly educated people and they can "reoptimize" when a day turns out to be nasty to still be able to "seize the day" and get work done.   Of course a snowstorm can disrupt a dentist appointment but for more and more of the key tasks in the modern economy, these can be done "anywhere" and a footloose population will each make decentralized decisions for how to make the best of that day before the weather goes back to normal.   The reduced form empirical researcher then observes that the same Chicago snowstorm causes less economic damage and this is the empirical benchmark test that adaptation is taking place!  Mother Nature's punches cause less damage over time in an economy enjoying adaptation progress.   



  9.  I joined the USC Economics faculty in 2015 and Romain Ranciere also joined that year.  Permit me to list the impressive scholars who have subsequently joined our faculty.

    Marianne Andries 

    Tim Armstrong

    Vittorio Bassi

    Augustin Bergeron

    Fanny Camara 

    Thomas Chaney

    Pablo Kurlat

    Jonathan Libgober

    Robert Metcalfe

    Monica Morlacco

    Afshin Nikzad 

    Paulina Oliva

    Simon Quah 

    Jeffrey Weaver 

    David Zeke

    In July 2022, a star theorist will join our department as our newest hire.

    USC fascinates many people.  This list highlights that the hype about us is earned.  Note that we continue to build up strength in micro theory, macro, econometrics and applied micro.  A balanced, optimistic department.  

    The next piece of the jigsaw puzzle is to build up a PHD program that trains and places students to achieve their career goals.   

  10. The Los Angeles Times rejected my piece that I present below.  Of course, I'm trying to sell my new 2022 Going Remote book!!

     

    The New New Geography of Jobs


    LeBron James joined the Los Angeles Lakers in 2018.  He wanted to live and work in Los Angeles.   How many of us have compromised as we live in a place because our work is nearby? 

    Going forward, a silver lining of the pandemic is that more and more of us will have the option to live where we want to live as we engage in WFH on either a part-time or full time basis.  How will this new freedom affect our quality of life?

    More educated workers are more likely to be working in occupations and industries that are WFH “friendly”.  While a surgeon cannot work from home, a book author can.  More and more people have learned due to our experience we gained from the COVID lockdown that we can be quite productive while working at home.

    WFH workers reduce their weekly commute time.  The rise of WFH allows for staggered work hours removing many peak commuters off the roads.  The typical WFH worker saves perhaps 5 hours a week in commute time.   Will traffic speeds increase for everyone else?  This depends on whether more drivers take non-work related trips when road speeds increase. 

    WFH workers will have increased freedom in their lives to exercise more, to spend more time with children, to participate in family chores and to co-ordinate their leisure time with their nearby neighbors and friends.   This opens up the possibility of new civic engagement.   On days when a child is sick or bad weather days, the WFH worker can be productive and caring while at home.  This opportunity reduces one’s stress and improves one’s mental health.

    In 2021 and 2022, economists have used U.S Postal Service change of address data to study migration patterns.  We are already spreading out.  People have been moving to the exurbs and bidding up home prices there.   People will move to areas where they want to be now that they are “untethered” and can live where they want to live.  People who love to ski will move to such areas.  Those with an aging mother may move closer to her without facing the same labor market penalty as before the rise of WFH.  The ability to seek out cheaper housing will allow families to achieve their goals.  One economic study argued that when people live in larger housing that this causes them to have more children!

    During this time of deep concern about inequality,  will WFH be elitist such that those who are not WFH eligible will be left behind and housing will become unaffordable in areas far from the cities?   While these are open questions, economic logic offers several insights.  First, with the rise of new WFH communities, there will be a local demand for the service economy as construction workers, teachers and restaurants will be in demand. For those non-WFH workers with a taste for the area’s lifestyle, new opportunities will emerge.  Second, home prices do not have to soar in the medium term if real estate developers are allowed to build new housing in these places that have plenty of land. American’s NIMBYism could be a key constraint on how the rise of WFH affects our nations’ geography.

    Consider California.  Our state is suffering from drought right now and features extremely high home prices.  Farmers consume over 75% of the state’s water.  If some farmland could be rezoned as suburban housing, then water consumption would decrease and the supply of affordable housing would increase as that land is converted into housing.  The rise of WFH helps our state to adapt to climate change and to increase the supply of affordable housing!

    Third, our cities feature many durable buildings. If many WFH workers “head for the hills”, this opens up new possibilities for those who want to live in a San Francisco or a Boston to find housing there. This possibility only grows if commercial real estate in these areas is converted into residential buildings.

    In the medium term, the rise of WFH opens new opportunities for parents of young children. In the past, many women opted out of the workforce to raise children.  WFH opens up the possibility of working part-time for one’s firm while the kids are young.  A firm that anticipates this dynamic will continue to mentor such young female workers and this will close the gender earnings gap.  In the past, women disproportionately entered fields such as being a pharmacist because of the job’s flexibility. WFH opens up the possibility of more flexibility and thus accommodates our diversity.  

    In the past, African Americans were under-represented in the Tech Sector.  Relatively few African-Americans live in tech cities such as San Francisco and Seattle.  Few tech companies have headquarters in Baltimore or Detroit.  The rise of WFH raises the possibility of the “best of both worlds”.  One can live in Baltimore and work and physically appear from time to time at Amazon HQ2 or a future HQ3.  Such tech firms will be able to attract a more diverse workforce and depressed cities such as Baltimore will attract role models who boost the local tax base. 

    A “New” New Geography of Jobs is now emerging.  Those firms that recognize this point will build a stronger, more diverse and more loyal workforce. Those places that compete to attract such workers will enjoy growth and an influx of new blood.’. A stronger America emerges as people can live where they want to live and change their schedules to meet their goals and responsibilities. 

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