Two items in Tuesday’s newspapers remind us of the often unseen costs of regulation and also of the often unseen benefits of market processes. In the Wall Street Journal, Prof. Todd Zywicki examines the likely consequences of a law to limit credit card interest rates and the fees they charge to merchants:
Card issuers might also reduce the quantity and quality of credit cards by restricting credit availability and cutting back on product innovation or ancillary card benefits. This is exactly what happened when Australian regulators imposed price controls on interchange fees in 2003: Annual fees increased an average of 22% on standard credit cards and annual fees for rewards cards increased by 47%-77%. Card issuers also reduced the generosity of their reward programs by 23%. Innovation, especially in terms of improved security and identity‐theft protection, was stalled. Card issuers also increased their efforts to attract higher‐risk customers who generate interest and penalty fees to offset lower interchange revenues from lower‐risk transactional users.
Those are the kinds of unseen costs that most of us wouldn’t anticipate (that’s why economists talk about “unanticipated [or unintended] consequences” of action). Only after the fact were economists able to identify the specific costs of the regulation. It seemed like a good idea — limit the cost of something that consumers (voters) want. Did anyone predict the consequences? People probably predicted that annual fees would rise to compensate for the lost revenue from interchange fees. But did they anticipate a slowdown in innovation in security and identity‐theft protection? Did they anticipate that card issuers would work harder to get higher‐risk customers? Such regulation always impedes the optimal working of market processes, and thus inevitably delivers sub‐optimal results.
Meanwhile, we often observe conditions in the marketplace that don’t seem to make sense to us. So we assume something is wrong, maybe even corrupt. An article in the Washington Post written in a sober yet hysterical style raised the problem of “medical salesmen in the operating room.” Then, in a letter to the Post, Dr. Mark Domanski explains why it makes sense to have medical salesmen in the operating room. A Post article on the topic had been full of anecdotes about a salesman who “began his career selling hot dogs” hanging out in operating rooms and doctors who expressed outrage. If only they had thought to ask a surgeon in distant Arlington, Virginia:
I found David S. Hilzenrath’s Dec. 27 Business article, “The salesman in the operating room,” to be one‐sided.
Of course, medical sales representatives work along doctors in operating rooms. As a surgeon, I always want a company rep in the operating room.
So, if you were having surgery that involved a complicated piece of equipment, wouldn’t you like somebody from the manufacturer to be there? I know I would.
Remember when you tried to assemble that desk you bought from a furniture store? We all know how to use a screwdriver, but when something is off, it’s nice to know there is a number to call. What if you needed to put that desk together quickly because you needed it for something important? It would be nice if the company sent someone to make sure all the parts were there and in good order. That’s what a good rep does.
As the surgeon, I make the diagnosis and decide the treatment. No company representative tells me how to use a knife. But many products in the operating room are complex and change almost every year; they are getting better that fast.
When I am using a complex product, such as a plating system for fixing a jaw fracture, having the rep in the room ensures that the system is functional. I know all the parts will be there. I know that the right screw and plate will be handed to me at the right time.
Sometimes we call in the rep for an operation, and it turns out that the fracture does not need to be plated. No rep has ever suggested that I plate a fracture that didn’t need to be plated.
Members of Congress and activists are constantly reading articles about apparent problems and rushing off to propose legislation. These examples and countless more should remind us to think carefully before we coercively interfere in the decisions that millions, billions, of people make every day.