Medicaid Expansion Brings Missouri to a Constitutional Crossroads

Missouri’s House Budget Committee took a historic step this week by voting down the bill that would fund Medicaid expansion. Writers across the state were quick to lambaste the legislature for “denying the will of the voters,” but there is much more to the story.

When Missourians voted on Medicaid expansion this past August, they were told the initiative would save the state billions of dollars. I wrote repeatedly at the time about how wrong those estimates would prove to be; expansion was then approved by a narrow margin.

With Medicaid expansion set to go into effect in a few months and Missouri’s Legislature now putting together next year’s budget, the true price tag for Medicaid expansion has finally come into focus. The state’s most recent estimates suggest that the first year will require more than $1.5 billion in new spending, which includes a significant portion of federal funding and a state share of approximately $100 million. Where will the legislature find these funds? Instead of searching for the money elsewhere in the budget, the House Budget Committee is questioning whether they need to fund expansion at all.

Of course, Missouri voters did approve the petition to expand Medicaid eligibility, but the issue is whether the constitutional amendment requires the legislature to come up with the funds. Our state’s constitution, like the U.S. Constitution, gives the legislature the “power of the purse”—the responsibility of authorizing all state spending. The constitution also provides that amendments cannot impose a new cost without outlining how that cost would be paid for. Unfortunately, the Medicaid expansion amendment, which will have an enormous cost, included no such funding mechanism.

The House Budget Committee’s stance is that without such a mechanism, the legislature is under no obligation to include funding for Medicaid expansion in next year’s budget. The committee’s move is just the first step of many if the legislature wants to avoid appropriating the funds necessary for expansion. But if the eventual budget does not include funding for expansion, the issue would probably be challenged in court.

While discussions on this topic are just beginning and will likely continue for the remainder of this legislative session, it’s important to recognize what’s happening here. There are legitimate constitutional questions being asked here, and despite what you may hear, this is about more than simply the politics of Medicaid expansion.

Some St. Louis School Districts Are Responding to Parents

Apparently, parents like options, and school districts like keeping students. What a concept. This past year has forced public school districts to realize that some—but not all—students excel when they can learn virtually. Other students are more successful when they learn in person. One size does not, in fact, fit all.

Nationally, there are several indicators that learning remotely works for a lot of families. The number of homeschooled students doubled this year. An NPR/Ipsos poll found that nearly 30 percent of families were considering sticking with virtual learning next year. Another tracking poll found that 45 percent of parents want a virtual and in-person hybrid approach next year.

Missouri families who prefer virtual learning have the option of enrolling in the Missouri Course Access and Virtual School Program. But their assigned public school district has to cover their cost. It’s not surprising, therefore, that several school districts in the St. Louis region are going to continue their virtual programs for students who want them. One local superintendent was quoted as saying that extending virtual learning programs will “prevent” students from leaving for the statewide program. Not exactly—parents can still choose either. In fact, a poll of Missouri parents in December found that nearly a quarter graded their children’s remote learning experience as a “D” or an “F.” Regardless, districts are apparently feeling a little heat from the competition.

As the dust settles from the great COVID education disruption, we will discover more about how the experience affected families and learning. I suspect that traditional public school districts will be forced to recognize that the power shift from school administrators to parents is not going to reverse itself any time soon.

Who Will Speak For the Family Businesses They Shut Down?

Late last night and into the wee hours of today, the Missouri Senate debated a bill that sought to rein in many of the local government COVID excesses of the last year, including requiring local elected officials to vote on whether entire classes of businesses should be closed for extended periods of time. After hours of filibuster, the bill failed—with several members of the majority party voting against the measure.

I have to say I am disturbed. During last night’s debate, the conversation seemed to make it clear that some senators have more common cause with local political officials than they do with the people who elected them. The role of the legislature isn’t to simply defend bad local decisions. The role of the legislature is to defend constituents—the people who elected them in the first place—against bad local decisions.

Keep in mind it wasn’t long ago that the state stopped local officials from banning plastic bags. The state was also okay with stopping local officials from hiking their minimum wages locally, for fear of the business-destroying effects the higher wage requirement might have.

But straight up banning entire categories of legal businesses from operating for indeterminate periods of time?

The state senate is A-OK with that.

How excruciatingly unserious.

State elected officials are elected by the public, not by local bureaucrats, and it’s the interests of those regular Missourians that the legislature is duty-bound to prioritize. State officials need to realize now, not later, that they are elected to be a check on local officials. Their job is not to rubber stamp business-destroying decisions simply because a local official did it. Their job is to fight those decisions and protect their constituents from them.

TIF and the Pandemic, Part Two

In my previous post on the struggle of county health departments during the pandemic, I touched on funding levels for health departments before the pandemic. Even before COVID hit, were funding levels too low?

The Post-Dispatch article states that Missouri spends less state money on public health than any other state. That certainly seems to indicate that public health expenditures are too low in our state. But what if many other states collect public health money at the state level, while here in Missouri we collect it at the city and county level? As long as services are provided, would it really matter who collected the money first? I don’t think so.

Another comparison ranks Missouri rather high nationally in public health spending (ninth) and properly notes that most Missouri public health money is raised and spent at the local level. Most Missouri counties have a local property tax dedicated to funding their health departments. Many of our larger cities do also. So, we ought to realize that the reason the state may rank so low is that we fund public health at the local level while other states seem to fund more of it at the state level. I don’t think there is anything wrong with that, but I think people need the full picture of funding services like this before making judgments.

TIF and the Pandemic, Part 1

The St. Louis Post-Dispatch reported recently on the struggles of county health departments in Missouri during the Covid pandemic. We all recognize the vital services public health workers have provided over the past year to our communities. The article describes the myriad issues county health departments and their employees have faced in the past year, including funding levels.

Are the funding levels from state and county taxes (more on that in a subsequent post) enough to provide the right level of public health services? Federal emergency funds sent to the state stabilized funding issues for many departments during this crisis, but are we properly funding public health efforts in Missouri aside from that?

Well, I don’t know what the proper level of public health funding is, but I do know that the rampant abuse of tax-increment financing (TIF) and other tax abatement programs takes a very large bite out of local public health funding. Local governments in Missouri have given out over $7 billion worth of subsidies for TIF alone over the past few decades. Most of those subsidies come from property taxes, the precise taxes used to primarily fund our local health departments. If you add in property tax abatements and other types of tax subsidies, the number would be substantially higher.

I don’t know what percentage of that $7 billion in TIF would have gone to local health departments (both past, present, and future subsidies), but while it would likely be a low percentage, a low percentage of $7 billion is still a lot of money.

So, on top of all the economic, fiscal, social, and environmental damage TIF has caused, we can add in reduced public health funding during a pandemic. We can’t pass massive subsidy reform in Missouri fast enough.

Gas Tax Bill Undergoes Several Changes

A bill in the Missouri Legislature that would raise Missouri’s fuel tax has undergone several important changes.

Instead of raising the fuel tax by 2 cents per gallon each year for five years, the bill would raise the fuel tax 2.5 cents per gallon each year for five years. If it were to become law, Missouri’s fuel tax would be raised from 17 cents per gallon now to 29.5 cents per gallon in 2025. The bill’s sponsors estimate that, once the increases are fully phased in, these measures would raise an additional $462 million per year starting in 2026.

The tax increase would eventually cover a little more than half of the annual $745 million MoDOT claims it needs for high-priority road and bridge needs. Increased transportation funding is needed, Show-Me analysts and other organizations have pointed out.

There’s another new wrinkle added to the bill: residents can claim an exemption and refund for the additional tax amounts they paid as a result of the fuel tax increase. This exemption would only apply to vehicles that weigh less than 26,000 pounds, effectively ruling out commercial trucking companies from receiving the refund. The recordkeeping and reporting requirements for the exemption and refund are onerous particularly if you have more than one vehicle. Under the current draft of the legislation, the claim for a refund shall at a minimum include:  (1) Vehicle identification number of the motor vehicle into which the motor fuel was delivered; (2) Date of sale; (3) Name and address of purchaser; (4) Name and address of seller; (5) Number of gallons purchased; and (6) Number of gallons purchased and charged Missouri fuel tax, as a separate item.

It’s hard to know how many Missourians would take advantage of this refund mechanism, but available evidence suggests that most won’t. The fuel tax refund is modeled after South Carolina’s fuel tax rebate, and only $3.4 million in rebates were issued out of over $500 million raised.

Perhaps the most interesting change is that the bill would establish an Electric Vehicle Task Force to study how to ensure drivers of electric vehicles (EVs) adequately pay for the damage they cause to roads. As more people use EVs and don’t fuel their cars with gasoline, this will become a salient question for future legislation. The task force would also study how the charging of EVs will impact the state electric system, the role of utilities and the Public Service Commission in overseeing charging stations, and ensuring that electric customers without EVs don’t end up subsidizing those who do.

The bill still faces another vote in the Senate, so things could change once again. Hopefully, we see a final bill that addresses transportation funding issues in Missouri in a fair and equitable way.

SMI Podcast: A Road Map For Education Reform – Bill Mattox

On this episode of the podcast, Bill Mattox joins Susan Pendergrass to discuss what Missouri can learn from Florida’s fight for more educational freedom.

Bill Mattox currently serves as the Director of the J. Stanley Marshall Center for Educational Options at The James Madison Institute. In this role, he works with a wide variety of researchers, policymakers, educators, and parents to promote innovative reforms designed to make it possible for all K-12 students to obtain a high-quality education tailored to their unique needs, interests, aptitudes, and learning styles.

Listen on Apple Podcasts

Return of the Resource Curse: The Trouble That Comes from Too Much Money

Versions of this commentary appeared in the American Spectator and the Columbia Missourian.

Imagine painting yourself into a corner—as someone of limited means who is subject to wacky increases in the cost of something as basic as renting an apartment. I do mean wacky, with this big component in the cost of living not just doubling, but going up no fewer than eight times over the course of a single year.

That happened to me in 1975 as the sole breadwinner in a family of three. I offer this small bit of personal history as something to think about in pondering today’s news.

In the beginning of that long-ago year, I quit my job as a newspaper reporter at the St. Louis Globe-Democrat and moved to Beirut as a self-deployed freelance writer. This was shortly after the OPEC oil embargo and the quadrupling of oil prices in 1974. Thinking the Middle East would experience one of the greatest transfers of wealth in the history of the world, I wanted to be there as an observer.

My wife and I left a three-bedroom, two-bath apartment St. Louis’s Central West End. Our rent was $165 a month. With one young child, the cheapest, somewhat comparable place we could find in Beirut cost $700 a month.

The civil war in Lebanon erupted in early April, shortly after our arrival. By the end of the year, fighting in the streets of Beirut became so fierce it led to a mass evacuation of most of the city’s large expatriate business population. As a result, the Lebanese capital was suddenly “halas” —the Arabic word for finished—as the regional center for business in the Middle East. But the spending spree in Saudi Arabia, Iran, and other countries was just beginning. We resettled in Bahrain, where more sticker shock awaited. We moved into a three-bedroom, two-bath bungalow that cost more than $1,400 a month.

Why would it cost more than eight times as much money to find a place to live in the Middle East as it would in St. Louis?

The Middle East had been bitten by a strange curse—known in economic literature as the “resource curse,” or the paradox of plenty. Resource-rich countries are all too likely to squander the windfall wealth that comes from possession of precious metals or vital resources such as oil. Bubbles develop as people who have benefited the most from a sudden influx of money bid up the price of real estate and other assets that then become increasingly unaffordable for many other people.

I got lucky. I landed a full-time position with Mideast Markets, a high-priced publication that had sprung up to provide ongoing coverage of the fast-changing business scene in the Middle East. My new employer paid the full cost of our move and our housing as well. Bahrain became my jumping-off point for traveling throughout the region over the next three years.

With my own eyes, I saw the inevitability of prodigious waste in places where money was no object. I also saw how the resource curse exacerbates the divide between haves and have-nots. In Bahrain we lived across the street from a Persian family where eight sons—all in their twenties and thirties—were still living with their parents. Though they all had jobs, they had been priced out of the housing market—and this at time when others we knew were making fortunes in speculating in real estate.

Today our own government in Washington, D.C., is acting in much the same way as the governments in the newly oil-rich countries of yesteryear. Since the onset of the pandemic, our government has been passing out “free” money all kinds of reasons—from paying the unemployed to stay unemployed (knowing they would lose money by going back to work) to $3,000-a-child tax credits and $2,800 handouts to households with annual incomes of up to $140,000. And now we are seeing some of the same (if not quite so wild) distortions in housing prices and other asset values I saw in the Middle East.

I am not arguing against a safety net for the truly needy. Nor am I saying that there should be no compensation from governmental entities for government-ordered lockdowns that have forced thousands businesses to close their doors and deprived millions of workers of their livelihoods.

But where is all the money to come from to pay for what looks like a massive and ill-considered increase in the size of the welfare state? Not from current tax revenues or any gain in productive capacity. It is coming from funny money—trillions of dollars of borrowed or newly created money used to grease the wheels of an already strong recovery. If not repudiated through inflation, these financial obligations will have to repaid by American taxpayers in future years.

Good luck with that. How can making people less reliant on doing things for themselves and more dependent on getting checks from the government be a recipe for sound money and future success?

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