Lawrence H. Summers is Charles W. Eliot University Professor at Harvard University. He was previously the president of Harvard University. Before that, he was secretary of the U.S. Treasury.
Long before and advanced the notion of the natural rate of unemployment (the lowest rate of unemployment tolerable without pushing up ), policymakers had contented themselves with striving for low, not zero, unemployment. Just what constitutes an acceptably low level of unemployment has been redefined over the decades. In the early 1960s an unemployment rate of 4 percent was both desirable and achievable. Over time, the unemployment rate drifted upward and, for the most part, has hovered around 7 percent. Lately, it has fallen to 5 percent. I suspect that some of the reduction in the apparent natural rate of unemployment in recent years has to do with reduced transitional unemployment, both because fewer people are between jobs and because they are between jobs for shorter periods. Union power has been eroded by domestic regulatory action and inaction, as well as by international . More generally, international competition has restrained wage increases in high-wage industries. Another factor making unemployment lower is a decline in the fraction of the unemployed who are supported by unemployment insurance.
My maternal grandfather, Bob Parham, began his career as a technician for the Federal Aviation Administration, and was held in such esteem by the early seventies that he was asked to spearhead an initiative to recruit and prepare minorities and women for careers in air-traffic control. Bob worked all over the country, but he was based at Philadelphia International Airport, the city the Parhams had called home for five generations. Unexpectedly, Bob became a teacher preparing recruits for the civil-service exam, the first hurdle toward qualifying for training at the F.A.A. Academy, in Oklahoma City. For years, the exam had proved inscrutable to nearly all but white men with either a college education or closely comparable military experience. In the political environment of the day, however, a glaring lack of diversity among public employees had become a liability for federal institutions, legally as well as morally. The Equal Employment Opportunity program that Bob oversaw supported recruits like my dad. Bob, whose distaste for the young man who’d led his daughter astray was now outweighed by the need to provide for a grandson, invited my dad to participate in the E.E.O. program, although my dad was too proud to accept his father-in-law’s help unconditionally.
Mr. Diaz grew up in the neighborhood, and worked intermittently, doing odd jobs. His wife said he was a user, not a dealer, and had turned himself in soon after Mr. Duterte’s election. She still thought it unsafe for him to sleep at home, and told him to stay with relatives. But he missed his nine children, and had returned days before.
The killing disrupts every aspect of life. Family members told me that Benjamin Visda, in the coffin in the above photo, had stepped out of a family birthday party to grab something at a sari sari and was eating cake when eight men grabbed him. Within 20 minutes, his body had been dumped outside a police station.
PATCO viewed the strike as an unfortunate escalation of negotiations toward a long-term agreement with their bosses, the federal government. Of course, the controllers hoped that their actions, debilitating air traffic worldwide at an expense of millions per day, would cause Reagan to meet their demands, pacify them quickly, and kindly invite them back to work. They’d hoped the strike would pass like a brief tantrum. After the strike began, they would have accepted even token concessions to get them back to the bargaining table. Nonetheless, they were prepared to go “the distance,” even though no one knew what that meant.
All of which isn’t to say that Norman Rockwell would have been happy setting up his easel there. Small-town values with a Sodom and Gomorrah twist might be the best way of describing Brentwood’s ethos. A Brentwood Hello, as we’d learn from Nicole’s B.F.F. and sometimes more than, Faye Resnick, who’d publish a memoir during the trial, Nicole Brown Simpson: The Private Diary of a Life Interrupted, was a local specialty: a woman bestowing upon a casual male acquaintance a blowjob. Hey, it was oral sex, not sex sex—two totally different things. Just ask then president .
Reagan, just eight months into his first term in office, treated the strike as a challenge to his authority. By his deadline, August 5th, only thirteen hundred striking controllers had returned to their posts. The President made good on his threat, fired the truant eleven thousand three hundred and forty-five controllers, and banned them from federal employment for life. (Bill Clinton lifted the ban in 1993.)
Officially, my father was the president of the Newark tower branch, or “local,” of PATCO. Given his charisma and penchant for theatrics, however, he was often asked to speak to the press. By default, he became a very public face in the Northeast region. His would be a high-profile arrest. At home, watching the evening news, it was easy for me to picture my dad, heroically defiant, in handcuffs and leg irons, being led across the screen. The image turned fearsome when I thought about what would happen to him after I turned off the television.
We joined the police on numerous stings. We also went on our own to the places where people were killed or bodies were found. The relatives and neighbors we met in those places often told a very different story from what was recorded in official police accounts.
On Saturday, Mr. Duterte said that, in a telephone call the day before, President-elect Donald J. Trump had and invited him to visit New York and Washington. “He said that, well, we are doing it as a sovereign nation, the right way,” Mr. Duterte said in a summary of the call released by his office.
We’re now seeing a preview of what happens when Border Patrol agents feel emboldened to take matters into their own hands. Last month, when Trump signed his executive order barring travel from seven predominantly Muslim countries, it immediately raised questions about implementation: How would green-card holders be treated? And what would happen to travellers taken into custody at airports? The chaos was revealing. One complaint, filed to the inspector general of the D.H.S. by the Center for Constitutional Rights and Cardozo Law School, detailed twenty-six accounts from lawyers and families members who were prevented from seeing clients and relatives being held by C.B.P. agents at airports. When C.B.P. agents were pressed to explain the situation, their answers ranged from “Just following orders” to “Call Mr. Trump.” Invoking the President was their cover.
The chase, which happened 20 years ago this month—June 17, 1994—happened because a woman and a man, Nicole Brown Simpson, 35, and Ronald Lyle Goldman, 25, had been brutally slain. Though nobody knew it at the time, out of that horrifying crime something new was born, or maybe “spawned” is a better word: reality TV.