Justin Fox: No, Elon Musk hasn’t ‘discovered’ fraud at Social Security

posted in: Politics | 0

Last year, it suddenly fell to me to manage the affairs of a couple of ailing and now deceased elderly people (my parents-in-law). As anyone who has been through this ordeal knows, it involves spending lots and lots of time on the phone and online communicating with banks, insurers, medical billing departments and other service providers.

The experience offers a useful perspective on the efficiency and responsiveness of various institutions. The worst were, big surprise, a cable company and a health-plan administrator. Banks varied in their customer service, with small banks generally more pleasant to deal with than big ones, although I did find it endearing of big bank Capital One that I could always tell my question was about to be answered or problem solved when my call was finally transferred to someone with a Southern accent.

One organization stood out from the rest for its sheer, ruthless efficiency: the Social Security Administration. I called only once, and with a predicted wait time of more than an hour opted for a callback. A representative did and informed me that the thing I wanted to ask her to do (adjust benefits to reflect the death of a spouse) had already been taken care of.

The SSA summarily pulled just-deposited payments out of bank accounts (because the recipient had died), in one case before I even had death certificates in my hands. But it also followed up quickly after the second of those removals, acknowledging that it now owed a little money and asking for details of next of kin to send it to.

So when newly minted government-efficiency expert Elon Musk hints — without providing any evidence — that there is serious fraud at the Social Security Administration, I must say I’m extremely dubious.

Sure, checks sometimes go out to recipients who shouldn’t receive them, with the SSA estimating that it made $13.6 billion in overpayments in the 2023 fiscal year. But that was out of $1.3 trillion in disbursements. Even if the actual overpayment amount is several times larger, it’s still not much relative to the huge scale of Social Security.

It is true that administering Social Security’s main program, Old-Age and Survivors Insurance, doesn’t involve a lot of judgment calls or customer input. You’re either old enough to qualify for benefits or you’re not, and you’re either alive or you’re not. But its efficiency is still impressive. OASI administrative costs amount to just 0.4% of total spending, down from 1.6% half a century ago. General and administrative expenses at Musk’s Tesla Inc. — not an apples-to-apples comparison, of course, but still interesting to note — are 4.6% of revenue.

Social Security’s smaller Disability Insurance program involves more judgment calls, higher administrative costs and greater potential for fraud and error, and the even smaller Supplemental Insurance program even more so.

But much of the fraud that takes place appears to be of the small change, one-person-at-a-time sort — in contrast to the larger-scale continuing fraud issues at Medicaid and Medicare, and the big pandemic frauds involving unemployment insurance and Paycheck Protection Program loans. And the flip side of cracking down too hard on potential Social Security fraud is that you probably end up denying benefits to many people who have earned them.

The White House Office of Management and Budget keeps track of agency estimates of “improper” and “unknown” payments back to 2004 at its PaymentAccuracy.gov website. The totals aren’t necessarily all fraud, and there may be fraudulent payments that agencies think are legitimate. But clearly, payments to health-care providers offer the biggest fraud opportunities (Medicaid, the health-care program for the poor, ranks No. 1, but that’s only because Medicare, the health-care program for the elderly, is broken up into three parts).

Medicare and Medicaid fraud are well-known problems, the subject of congressional hearings, Government Accountability Office reports and much other scrutiny. They can certainly stand even more scrutiny and, who knows, maybe Musk and his team of coders will turn up something useful. What Musk has said so far about Social Security, though, does not give much confidence.

His statement on X that that he had “just learned that the social security database is not de-duplicated, meaning you can have the same SSN many times over,” was met with widespread derision online from software engineers who said de-duplication doesn’t mean that at all (it apparently refers to a process to free up storage space). And his claim in the Oval Office last week that “we’ve got people in there that are 150 years old” was, while possibly accurate, neither (1) news nor (2) necessarily indicative of a significant problem.

In 2023, Social Security’s inspector general reported that as of 2020 Social Security’s “Numident” file of each person issued a Social Security number contained 18.9 million entries for people born in 1920 or earlier with no death information, while the Census Bureau estimated there were only 86,000 Americans that old. Only 44,000 of these centenarians were actually receiving Social Security benefits, though.

The other records were almost all people who died before the automated reporting system that so rapidly registered my in-laws’ deaths was put in place. The inspector general recommended that the Social Security Administration add presumed death information to the inactive records, but the ever-frugal SSA objected that the benefits of doing so wouldn’t be worth the estimated cost of $5.5 million to $9.7 million.

Government computer systems are full of legacy quirks like this, and upgrading and updating them is a huge and often-fraught endeavor. Social Security also has serious looming funding problems that are the product of its design and the aging of the US population, not its operations. Do Musk and his Department of Government Efficiency have ideas for dealing with either of those issues? So far they’ve given no sign of it.

Justin Fox is a Bloomberg Opinion columnist covering business, economics and other topics involving charts. A former editorial director of the Harvard Business Review, he is author of “The Myth of the Rational Market.”

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Skywatch: Absolute perfection

posted in: Adventure | 0

Whenever you gaze upon the stars and constellations it’s easy to forget you’re seeing a three-dimensional picture. The constellations seem to be set against a black canvas for all of us to enjoy for the ages, but that’s simply not the case. The stars you see that make up the constellations are all at varying distances from Earth, from tens of light -years to thousands of light-years away. There’s no way you can travel in a spaceship to the constellation Orion the Hunter or Ursa Major the Big Bear. So you must be even more impressed when you see remarkable alignments of stars, like the three stars in a row that make up Orion’s belt. I know I am.

Another wonderful “accidental” alignment of stars is the Winter Triangle. It’s a perfect equilateral triangle made up of three bright stars from three separate constellations. What are the chances of that? It’s available in the southern evening skies these February evenings, and all three stars are bright enough to see even in light-polluted skies.

(Mike Lynch)

At the upper left-hand corner of the Winter Triangle is the super red giant star Betelgeuse, the second-brightest star in Orion the Hunter. In English, Betelgeuse roughly translates into “armpit of the great one.” That’s right, Betelgeuse marks Orion’s armpit. You can easily see that Betelgeuse has a distinct orange-reddish hue.

Astronomically, the star Betelgeuse is simply one of the biggest single things you’ve ever seen! It’s a humongous star that pulsates like a giant celestial heart. It goes from a diameter of over 600 million miles to almost a billion miles. By comparison, our sun is a super wimpy star, less than a million miles in diameter. Our own Earth is less than 8,000 miles across. One of these nights, sometime within the next million years, Betelgeuse will put on the ultimate fireworks show. It will explode as a colossal supernova that will be so bright that it may not be safe to look at, like a giant halogen beam attacking your optic nerves from over 600 light years away. It should be quite a show as Betelgeuse blows up, a fate awaiting all super giant stars.

The next star in the Winter Triangle is Sirius, which happens to be the brightest star in the night sky and the brightest star in the constellation Canis Major, Orion’s big hunting dog. Sirius marks an eye on the big doggy’s head. As you can see in the diagram, it’s at the bottom of the Winter Triangle. Just use Orion’s three belt stars as a pointer down and to the left, and you’ll hit Sirius dead on.

Sirius is the brightest star in our night sky mainly because it’s so close, at least relatively. It’s a little over eight light-years away, which equates to about 50 trillion miles. It’s a large star but nowhere near the size of the goliath Betelgeuse. Sirius’ diameter is about twice that of the sun and cranks out more than 25 times more light than our sun. Sirius is a Greek name that translates to English as “the scorcher.” Way back when, many civilizations believed that when Sirius was close to the sun in the sky during the late summer, it physically teamed up with the sun to make for some really hot days.

The third star in the Winter Triangle is Procyon, the brightest star in the constellation Canis Minor, the little dog. To find it, look for the next brightest star to the upper left of Sirius. Procyon is a little farther away than “the scorcher,” at about 11 light years away. It’s a little larger than Sirius, with a diameter of just over 2 million miles. Procyon resides in one of the poorest excuses for a constellation that I know. About all there is to the Little Dog is Procyon and the fainter star Gomeisa, just above and a little to the right of Procyon. At my star parties, I often call Canis Minor the little wiener dog of the winter heavens.

That’s it, the Winter Triangle, three stars from three different constellations that physically have nothing to do with each other. But yet, from our view on Earth, they form an absolutely perfect triangle. I consider all of us lucky and blessed to see it!

Mike Lynch is an amateur astronomer and retired broadcast meteorologist for WCCO Radio in Minneapolis/St. Paul. He is the author of “Stars: a Month by Month Tour of the Constellations,” published by Adventure Publications and available at bookstores and adventurepublications.net. Mike is available for private star parties. You can contact him at mikewlynch@comcast.net.

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Zeynep Tufekci: Here are the digital clues to what Musk is really up to

posted in: News | 0

Watching Elon Musk and his band of young acolytes slash their way through the federal government, many observers have struggled to understand how such a small group could do so much damage in so little time.

The mistake is trying to situate Musk solely in the context of politics. He isn’t approaching this challenge like a budget-minded official. He’s approaching it like an engineer, exploiting vulnerabilities that are built into the nation’s technological systems, operating as what cybersecurity experts call an insider threat. We were warned about these vulnerabilities but no one listened, and the consequences — for the United States and the world — will be vast.

Insider threats have been around for a long time: the CIA mole toiling quietly in the Soviet government office, the Boeing engineer who secretly ferried information about the space shuttle program to the Chinese government. Modern digital systems supercharge that threat by consolidating more and more information from many distinct realms.

That approach has delivered obvious benefits in terms of convenience, access, integration and speed. When the bipartisan Sept. 11 commission described how segmentation of information among agencies had stymied intelligence efforts, the solution was to create integrated systems for collecting and sharing huge troves of data.

Running integrated digital systems, however, requires endowing a few individuals with sweeping privileges. They’re the “sysadmins”, the systems administrators who manage the entire network, including its security. They have “root privileges,” the jargon for highest level of access. They get access to the “God View,” the name Uber gave its internal tool that allowed an outrageously large number of employees to see anyone’s Uber rides.

That’s why when Edward Snowden was at the National Security Agency he was able to take so much information, including extensive databases that had little to do with the particular operations he wanted to expose as a whistleblower. He was a sysadmin, the guy standing watch against users who abuse their access, but who has broad leeway to exercise his own.

“At certain levels, you are the audit” is how one intelligence official explained to NBC News the ease with which a single person could walk off with reams of classified data on a thumb drive. It’s the modern version of one of the oldest problems of governance: “Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?” as the Roman poet Juvenal asked about 2,000 years ago. Who watches the sysadmin?

Consider the outrage that is the federal employee retirement system, a clunky program that Musk recently highlighted. The entire operation runs almost solely on paper, each retirement file hand-processed by hundreds of workers — in a limestone mine 230 feet underground — who ferry pieces of paper between the caverns to put them in the right manila folder. Since there couldn’t be an open flame in the mine, The Washington Post reported in 2014, all the food had to come from the outside. So the pizza guy had a security clearance. Multiple attempts at modernization failed, resulting in a frustratingly sluggish process in which simple searches often take months.

Not so the hiring and firing process at the Office of Personnel Management, where all employment records have been neatly digitized in an uber-human resources department for the entire federal government. That’s why a team from Musk’s so-called Department of Government Efficiency headed straight for OPM, dragging in sofa beds to sleep on so they could be there round the clock. OPM is root access to the entire United States government.

With that kind of access, even a small team can search the entire government for employees whose job titles contain suggestions of wrongthink, or who might resist takeovers or wield bureaucratic tools to slow the pace of change.

In effect, this small DOGE crew has become sysadmins for the entire government. Soon after OPM, they descended on the Treasury Department, where every payment the government has made is stored: root access to the economy (including many companies that are direct competitors to those of Musk). Their efforts expanded recently to the IRS and Social Security Administration, both of which hold extremely personal, sensitive information: root access to practically the entire American population.

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The Atlantic reports that a former Tesla engineer appointed as the director of the Technology Transformation Services — a little-known entity that runs digital services for many parts of the government — has requested “privileged access” to 19 different information technology systems reportedly without even completing a background check, making him less vetted than the person delivering pizza to that mine.

All this has merged with and amplified another kind of insider threat brewing for decades on the political side: the expansion of unchecked executive power.

“With money we will get men, said Caesar, and with men we will get money,” Thomas Jefferson once wrote, to warn against the ways that what he called elective despotism can become a self-feeding cycle. He had feared that an elected authoritarian would not just pulverize the institutions meant to limit his power, but take them over to wield as weapons, thus further entrenching himself.

Even Jefferson couldn’t have imagined a future in which the arsenal being deployed included centralized databases with comprehensive records on every citizen’s employment, finances, taxes and for some, even health status.

After a judge blocked a Trump executive order, Musk shared a post with his more than 200 million followers on his social platform X that included the judge’s daughter’s name, photo and job, allegedly at the Department of Education. There’s no indication he got access to government databases about her, but how would we know if he had, or if he does so in the future?

How many people are now wondering about private information about themselves or their loved ones? How many companies are wondering if their sensitive financial data is now in the hands of a rival? How many judges are wondering if their family is next?

It didn’t have to be this way. Over the years, expert after expert and organization after organization warned about the dangers of consolidating so much data in the hands of governments (and corporations). As far back as 1975, Jerome Wiesner, then the president of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, warned that information technology puts “vastly more power into the hands of government and private interests” and that “the widespread collection of personal information would pose a threat to the Constitution itself,” risking the rise of an “information tyranny in the innocent pursuit of a more efficient society.”

It’s not a choice between efficiency and manila folders in underground mines. There have been plenty of promising efforts to develop digital technologies that preserve our privacy while delivering its conveniences. They have names like zero-knowledge proofs, federated learning, differential privacy, secure enclaves, homomorphic encryption, but chances are you’ve never heard of any of them. In the rush to create newer, faster, more monetizable technologies — and to enable the kind of corporate empires whose chief executives stood beside Donald Trump at his inauguration — privacy and safety regulations seemed like a bore.

Now we are stuck with a system that offers equal efficiency to those who wish to exercise the legitimate functions of government and those who wish to dismantle it, or to weaponize it for their own ends. There doesn’t even seem to be a mechanism to learn who has gained access to what database with what privileges. Judges are asking and not always getting clear answers. The only ones who know are the sysadmins, and they’re not saying.

Zeynep Tufekci writes a column for the New York Times.

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Review: ‘Becoming Led Zeppelin’ brings riffage and volume but little in the way of fresh insight

posted in: News | 0

There’s pummeling hard rock, yes, and then there’s the nuclear-grade explosion of Shirley Bassey performing the theme to “Goldfinger” — a whole separate beast. In one of pop music’s oddest confluences, future Led Zeppelin members Jimmy Page and bassist John Paul Jones sat in on that 1964 recording session, years before the band came together. The two musicians remember Bassey’s command with smiles on their faces in the new documentary “Becoming Led Zeppelin,” still blown away.

It’s a charming moment in a profile that could have used more of them. In retrospect, it makes sense that backing Bassey would prove formative: So much of Led Zeppelin was about power, poise and drama (or melodrama, if you think of the first album’s overwrought “Babe I’m Going to Leave You”). And putting those elements together into a controlled, disciplined package is what the group would do better than any other before it — and most others since.

Unfortunately, that same level of control has resulted in a timid, far-from-revelatory film, authorized by the three surviving Zeppelin vets and graced by their presence in new interviews that give off the faint scent of impatience: Can we get on with it? Drummer John Bonham, who died in 1980, is represented by recently unearthed audio, also stubbornly uninsightful.

Why are these guys so boring? It’s a mystery that won’t be probed by director Bernard MacMahon and co-writer Allison McGourty, who tick off the usual gigs and recording anecdotes on the rise to fame with a then-this-happened dutifulness. (Performance footage is fun but “Becoming Led Zeppelin” may in fact have more fudged overdubs than “The Song Remains the Same.”) Meanwhile, if ever a project called out for some historical context and a few talking heads to speak to Led Zeppelin’s revolutionary hugeness — something that could be lost on today’s audiences — it’s this one. But no other voices have been allowed, a mistake.

Instead, an intriguing portrait emerges of Page as shrewd Svengali, flying to New York City in 1968 with a completed, self-financed album under his arm to negotiate with Atlantic Records potentate Ahmet Ertegun personally, along with muscle Peter Grant. No singles, the riff-wrangler insisted. Take it or leave it. Oh, for a feature-length documentary on just this business trip alone: “Selling Led Zeppelin.”

Only a hardened viewer with no sense of fun (or ears) will find this music a drag. Almost every track of the band’s first two full-lengths is a miracle and you can hear the rules of metal being forged in songs like “Communication Breakdown” and “Whole Lotta Love.” (Seeing the film in deafening Imax is certainly the way to go.) But as any superfan will tell you, “Becoming Led Zeppelin” ends when things are just about to get interesting: a pivot to acoustic folk, a plunge into drug abuse and bad decisions — and even more terrific music. None of that danger comes through here.

‘Becoming Led Zeppelin’

MPA rating: PG-13 (for some drug references and smoking)

Running time: 2:01

How to watch: Now in theaters

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