Frozen Economy

The polar ice cap may be melting, but the U.S. economy is frozen, starting right here in my small town. Gradually rising levels of dismay at the gas pump and in the supermarket gave way to paralytic shock last week when "lock-in" notices from the local fuel company arrived. This year's advance price for home heating oil is nearly twice what people paid last year. A collective gasp of disbelief from my tough, resourceful Maine neighbors echoed across the meadows and up the rocky coast. Many claimed they would never sign the contract. "What's your alternative?" I asked a friend.

"I don't have one,"

In the days that followed, a new quality of dread settled over the place like soot, as people weighed their options. Heat or food? Gas or electricity? Medicine or mortgage payments? What to give up? What to cut back? The conversations were everywhere. In the supermarket, I heard one man tell another: "When I was a kid, you woke up, went into the bathroom, and broke up the ice in the toilet. Now my kids will have to do the same. America is moving backward."

My neighbors are like deer caught in the headlights: frozen in fear as something sinister, implacable, and wholly unanticipated lurches toward them.

The economic crisis has been triggered by what economists call "structural shifts" in the global supply and demand for commodities, coupled with the meltdown in the mortgage markets and the ensuing credit squeeze. But this crisis is now moving into a whole new gear, creating a new set of economic conditions that have yet to be named. Call it "the frozen economy."

Running Scared

"What about the next President?" I asked. "Will he be able to help?" They all looked at me with a mix of tenderness and pity, as if I had just spit up on my clean shirt. "The government should assist us," Arlie said, "but we've given up on that. They want to pacify us, not help us."

We are living in the frozen economy, where paralysis reigns at every level. Psychologists have long observed a curvilinear relationship between anxiety and performance. Without anxiety, there is apathy. A good dose of anxiety motivates peak performance. But more anxiety and the whole thing morphs into paralysis. The way I see it, we've blown right past anxiety into brand-new territory, where people can't make choices because there aren't any good choices to make. They are paralyzed—frozen in place.

General Motors (GM) executives, having squandered these past decades on shamelessly obstructing the development of fuel-efficient engines, now see their share price at a 50-year low. Their solution? Lay off other employees…again. No peak performance there.

The G8 leaders appear powerless and irrelevant. At the U.S. Federal Reserve, the curtain has been ripped aside, and the once omniscient wizard looks startled and uncertain. Keep rates low to support growth? Raise rates and try to stem inflation? You know the banking sector has seized up when federal funds lend at 325 basis points less than a year ago, while 30-year mortgages are two full percentage points higher. Frozen.

Every aspect of the economy seems to be caught between fiercely opposing forces, leaving no good choices but plenty of ice. Prices are up: Dairy products and bread have jumped 15% over last year, eggs 26.7%, and poultry 73%, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics. Gasoline is 36.7% more than a year ago, according to the Energy Information Administration. Health insurance premiums have increased 91% since 2000, according to the Commonwealth Fund. Meanwhile, real hourly earnings are falling—down 0.8% from a year ago

There are more opposing forces: Consumer borrowing is up, while home values have fallen precipitously and mortgage delinquency rates are reaching record levels. The U.S. trade deficit continues to rise, while the cost of shipping a standard container from China has tripled since 2000, and many goods now cost more to transport and distribute than to produce. GDP is rising slightly, but the amount we can afford to buy with what we produce is growing at a pace that's even slower, by a full percentage point, than real GDP, according to the Dallas Fed. Home prices have fallen back, but the Conference Board indicates that the number of people intending to purchase a home in the next six months is at a 25-year low.

Americans are not alone in their shock and bewilderment. Demonstrations and riots over the rising cost of food and fuel are spreading from Asia and Africa across Europe.

The promise of Ronald Reagan's candidacy, and of every President and Congress since, has been to humor our fears with a message of eternal sunshine—that everything is as it has always been. We've been lulled into escapism by opportunistic leaders. We chose to be pacified. Now decades have been lost while we've kept our heads in the sand. Most Americans alive today cannot recall the Depression—the last great shattering of our economic life—and what it felt like to be frozen. Will the economy mark the onset of our lingering decline, or will it finally rally us from denial?