"New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani held up a bunch of plantains at a press conference on Monday and promised
that New York City shoppers would pay 30 percent less than "typical
retail prices" when the city opens five government-run grocery stores at
a cost to taxpayers of $70 million.
"How are you going to keep people from taking advantage of that deal?" one reporter asked the mayor. "Is there going to be a limit on the number of items that someone can take?"
"Our RFP [Request for Proposals]
makes very clear that this is a program for New Yorkers to be able to
put food on the table, not a program for people to be able to make a
quick buck through reselling," the mayor responded, before turning it
over to Jeanny Pak, the interim president of the New York City Economic
Development Corporation. She said the city was looking into a "library
card-esque" system that would allow the city to "manage who's buying,"
with a focus on "everyday New Yorkers."
The city's plan rests on the assumption that it can control who buys
subsidized goods. Yet Venezuela's experience with government-run grocery
stores suggests that assumption deserves scrutiny.
When Venezuela's socialist president,
Hugo Chávez, created a nationwide network of government-run grocery
stores called "Mercal" in 2003, he faced the same conundrum of how to
control excess demand when prices are set artificially low.
At first, Mercal seemed to work. It quickly became one of Chávez's
most popular social programs. In a 2007 episode of his talk show, Aló Presidente, Chávez compared
Mercal's prices with those at a nearby grocery store. A kilo of sugar
at Mercal cost 740 bolívares, compared with a price of 1,300 bolívares
elsewhere. Chicken sold for 1,900 bolívares instead of 4,550. The
discounts were roughly 43 percent to 62 percent below prices already
regulated by the government. Chávez called Mercal an instrument for
building "socialist commerce."
More than 70 percent of households reported
buying at least one item at Mercal during the program's peak in
popularity in 2005. But eventually artificially low prices led shoppers
to clear out the shelves, and the stores became famous for lines that
would wind around the block. The share of households shopping at Mercal plummeted below 40 percent by 2014.
The gap between Mercal's subsidized prices and prices at other grocery stores created an obvious resale opportunity. There were complaints of diverted goods, fictitious purchases, store clerks allowing their friends and relatives to jump the line, and corruption in procurement and distribution. Hauling food across the border to resell at market prices in Colombia became a booming industry. Black-market reselling even spawned a new profession: bachaqueo.
The government responded to the
shortages with tighter controls. It capped purchases, assigned shoppers a
weekday based on the final digit of their national ID number, and registered sales
by ID and fingerprint. Some stores required shoppers to bring a baby or
present a birth certificate before they could buy diapers.
Centralized procurement created another set of problems. In 2010,
Venezuela's Comptroller General audited the state food distributor and found
unjustified direct awards, food containers stored outdoors, damaged
products, and major discrepancies between inventory and port warehouse
records.
Mercal alone did not cause
Venezuela's food shortages. It operated inside a larger system of
national price and exchange controls, subsidized imports,
expropriations, precarious property rights, monetary financing of
government deficits, and declining oil production.
Thankfully, Mamdani's program is limited to New York City.
New York's experiment is local, far more limited, and therefore, lower-stakes. Private contractors will operate
the stores, while auditors, courts, reporters, and the public can
scrutinize the results. Chávez, by contrast, clamped down on the free
press and suppressed reporting on his failed policies.
New Yorkers will also have plenty of
alternatives. The city's five municipal stores will become part of a
food retail market that includes more than 1,100 grocery stores and 10,000 bodegas.
But the comparison is still useful
because, like Chávez, Mamdani will find that he can't escape the laws of
supply and demand. His evasive response to the reporter's question
suggests that he hasn't given much thought to how the city would manage
high demand for cheap groceries. One way or another, the program will
require quotas. The alternative is to tolerate price-sensitive shoppers
lining up outside stores to buy discount plantains.
The spectacle of food lines would be a public relations disaster for the media-savvy mayor, who has pointed to his policies as evidence that "socialists not only understand economics, just as well as the capitalists who came before." Mamdani's rhetoric evokes Chávez's, who called
Mercal "an instrument" for proving that socialism works and that Adam
Smith's theory of the invisible hand was a capitalist lie.
Like Chávez, Mamdani is a socialist,
an economic populist, and a gifted politician. He understands the
rhetorical power of holding up a bushel of plantains. A government can
dictate the price, but it cannot guarantee that the plantains will still
be there."