Naked Economics by Wheelan, Charles (spanish books to read .txt) 📕

At the new price, more men—the most healthy of the unhealthy—decide that the policy is a bad deal, so they opt out. The sickest guys cling to their policies as tightly as their disease-addled bodies will allow. Once again the pool changes and now even $1,800 does not cover the cost of insuring the men who sign up for the program. In theory, this adverse selection could go on until the market for health insurance fails entirely.

That does not actually happen. Insurance companies usually insure large groups whose individuals are not allowed to select in or out. If Aetna writes policies for all General Motors employees, for example, then there will be no adverse selection. The policy comes with the job, and all workers, healthy and unhealthy, are covered. They have no choice. Aetna can calculate the average cost of care for this large pool of men and women and then charge a premium sufficient to make a profit.

Writing policies for individuals, however, is a much scarier undertaking. Companies rightfully fear that the people who have the most demand for health coverage (or life insurance) are those who need it most. This will be true no matter how much an insurance company charges for its policies. At any given price—even $5,000 a month—the individuals who expect their medical costs to be higher than the cost of the policy will be the most likely to sign up. Of course, the insurance companies have some tricks of their own, such as refusing coverage to individuals who are sick or likely to become sick in the future. This is often viewed as some kind of cruel and unfair practice perpetrated on the public by the insurance industry. On a superficial level, it does seem perverse that sick people have the most trouble getting health insurance. But imagine if insurance companies did not have that legal privilege. A (highly contrived) conversation with your doctor might go something like this:

DOCTOR: I’m afraid I have bad news. Four of your coronary arteries are fully or partially blocked. I would recommend open-heart surgery as soon as possible.

PATIENT: Is it likely to be successful?

DOCTOR: Yes, we have excellent outcomes.

PATIENT: Is the operation expensive?

DOCTOR: Of course it’s expensive. We’re talking about open-heart surgery.

PATIENT: Then I should probably buy some health insurance first.

DOCTOR: Yes, that would be a very good idea.

Insurance companies ask applicants questions about family history, health habits, smoking, dangerous hobbies, and all kinds of other personal things. When I applied for term life insurance, a representative from the company came to my house and drew blood to make sure that I was not HIV-positive. He asked whether my parents were alive, if I scuba dive, if I race cars. (Yes, yes, no.) I peed in a cup; I got on a scale; I answered questions about tobacco and illicit drug use—all of which seemed reasonable given that the company was making a commitment to pay my wife a large sum of money should I die in the near future.

Insurance companies have another subtle tool. They can design policies, or “screening” mechanisms, that elicit information from their potential customers. This insight, which is applicable to all kinds of other markets, earned Joseph Stiglitz, an economist at Columbia University and a former chief economist of the World Bank, a share of the 2001 Nobel Prize. How do firms screen customers in the insurance business? They use a deductible. Customers who consider themselves likely to stay healthy will sign up for policies that have a high deductible. In exchange, they are offered cheaper premiums. Customers who privately know that they are likely to have costly bills will avoid the deductible and pay a higher premium as a result. (The same thing is true when you are shopping for car insurance and you have a sneaking suspicion that your sixteen-year-old son is an even worse driver than most sixteen-year-olds.) In short, the deductible is a tool for teasing out private information; it forces customers to sort themselves.

Any insurance question ultimately begs one explosive question: How much information is too much? I guarantee that this will become one of the most nettlesome policy problems in coming years. Here is a simple exercise. Pluck one hair from your head. (If you are totally bald, take a swab of saliva from your cheek.) That sample contains your entire genetic code. In the right hands (or the wrong hands), it can be used to determine if you are predisposed to heart disease, certain kinds of cancer, depression, and—if the science continues at its current blistering pace—all kinds of other diseases. With one strand of your hair, a researcher (or insurance company) may soon be able to determine if you are at risk for Alzheimer’s disease—twenty-five years before the onset of the disease. This creates a dilemma. If genetic information is shared widely with insurance companies, then it will become difficult, if not impossible, for those most prone to illness to get any kind of coverage. In other words, the people who need health insurance most will be the least likely to get it—not just the night before surgery, but ever. Individuals with a family history of Huntington’s disease, a hereditary degenerative brain disorder that causes premature death, are already finding it hard or impossible to get life insurance. On the other hand, new laws are forbidding insurance companies from gathering such information, leaving them vulnerable to serious adverse selection. Individuals who know that they are at high risk of getting sick in the future will be the ones who load up on generous insurance policies.

An editorial in The Economist noted this looming quandary: “Governments thus face a choice between banning the use of test results and destroying the industry, or allowing their use and creating an underclass of people who are either uninsurable or cannot afford to insure themselves.” The Economist, which is hardly a bastion of left-wing thought, suggested that the private health insurance market may eventually find this problem intractable,