The post at Marginal Revolution by Sure, who appears to be a surgeon, denotes architectural flaws in the health care system that hinder the most productive delivery of services. I asked Claude to compare the complaints listed there with the complaints about the state-level governance system, which led to an exorbitant amount of fraud in Minnesota. The post about fraud, When Everyone Had the Power to Act, No One Did, is at the end.
CLAUDE: Excellent connection! Both pieces describe the same fundamental phenomenon: systemic dysfunction created not by incompetence, but by rational actors optimizing for their immediate incentive structures rather than system integrity. Let me draw out the key parallels:
The Core Parallel: Legibility Over Efficiency
The surgeon’s most devastating line mirrors your Minnesota fraud analysis perfectly:
“Separate, disjointed, billing through bureaucratic negotiation is legible. It is legible to the courts, to regulators, and to malpractice insurers.”
Just as Minnesota’s fraud prevention failed because every actor optimized for social legibility (being seen as empathetic, progressive, inclusive) rather than institutional integrity, healthcare pricing is deliberately complex because it optimizes for regulatory and legal legibility rather than economic efficiency or patient welfare.
Multiple Loci of Discretion, All Pointing the Wrong Way
In Minnesota:
- Politicians could have pulled contracts → didn’t (social cost)
- Bureaucrats could have slow-walked applications → didn’t (ideological pressure)
- Prosecutors could have investigated → didn’t (pendulum had swung)
- Reporters could have investigated → didn’t (narrative concerns)
- Community leaders could have raised alarms → didn’t (social networks)
In Healthcare:
- Hospitals could negotiate bundled prices → can’t (inducement laws)
- Surgeons could arrange volume discounts with labs → can’t (kickback regulations)
- Providers could simplify billing → can’t (fraud prevention requirements)
- Cash-only practices could expand → can’t (post-ACA restrictions)
In both cases, the locus of discretion at every level is constrained—not by incompetence, but by meta-level incentives that make the dysfunction rational.
The Fear Factor: What Drives the Perverse Incentives?
Minnesota (your piece): Fear of being seen as unsympathetic, backward, or out of step with progressive consensus
Healthcare (surgeon’s comment): Fear of being charged with a crime, accused of kickbacks, or sued for malpractice
Both systems are optimized to avoid attribution of specific harms (one death that regulation could prevent, one person denied compassionate treatment) even if it creates massive unattributable harms (2x costs and 100 deaths, $250M in fraud).
The Legibility Trap
The surgeon explains why healthcare resists market solutions:
“People are terrified of physician abuse. Most folks, even other physicians, have a very hard time knowing if their physician is taking them for a ride. So they turn to something powerful to regulate physicians.”
This is the exact dynamic in Minnesota—people were terrified of racial bias or lack of empathy in fraud prevention, so they turned to powerful social and institutional norms to regulate that concern. But those norms, like healthcare regulations, can’t distinguish between legitimate and illegitimate activity, so they end up regulating the wrong things.
The “If Only” Fantasy
Your conclusion about Minnesota:
“The Minnesota fraud case reveals what happens when that balance is lost, when the locus of discretion at every level points in the same direction: away from the uncomfortable work of saying no.”
The surgeon’s conclusion about healthcare:
“But there is an evergreen fantasy that … if only … then we could reduce prices. You can’t.”
Both pieces critique the same magical thinking: that we can achieve better outcomes without accepting tradeoffs or empowering someone to make hard discretionary judgments.
The Principal-Agent Problem Squared
The surgeon identifies the core issue:
“The patient has a wildly different incentive structure than the collective payer (insurance or government) and American healthcare is insanely deferential to the patient compared to alternatives.”
In Minnesota, the fraudsters had wildly different incentives than taxpayers, and Minnesota’s system was insanely deferential to “community voices” and “empathy” compared to alternatives.
Both systems suffer from principal-agent problems where the people with knowledge and proximity to the problem (surgeons, bureaucrats) can’t act on it because distant principals (regulators, social consensus) have tied their hands with rules designed to prevent the last war’s abuses.
The Synthesis: State Capacity Through Impossible Constraints
Both pieces reveal that modern American institutions increasingly suffer from state capacity constrained by its own complexity. We’ve created systems where:
- Accountability is distributed to the point of invisibility (no one person decides anything meaningful)
- Legibility requirements prevent efficient action (everything must be documented, justified, defended)
- Fear of specific attributable harms creates massive unattributable ones
- Social/regulatory consensus makes dissent professionally dangerous
- The “locus of discretion” at every level has been optimized away
The surgeon can’t bundle his billing. The Minnesota bureaucrat can’t ask hard questions. Both have been robbed of discretion in the name of preventing abuse, and the result is systemic abuse that no one can be held accountable for.
This is the dark side of the “rules versus discretion” debate—when we eliminate discretion through process, we don’t eliminate bad outcomes. We just make them unattributable, systemic, and unfixable.
When Everyone Had the Power to Act, No One Did
Victoria Wilson
August 11, 2025
US Attorney General Joe Thompson’s recent assessment of Minnesota’s fraud crisis cuts to the heart of a systemic failure. As he told the Star Tribune: “This fraud crisis didn’t come out of nowhere. It’s the result of widespread failure across nearly every level of leadership in Minnesota: Politicians who turned a blind eye. Agencies that failed to act. Prosecutors and law enforcement who didn’t push hard enough. Reporters who ignored the story. Community leaders who stayed silent. And a public that wanted to believe it couldn’t happen here.”
Thompson is describing something profound: the collapse of state capacity through a thousand small abdications of responsibility.
The Architecture of Inaction
At every decision point—what scholars call the “locus of discretion”—someone could have acted. The architecture of prevention was already in place; what failed was the will to use it.
Politicians possessed both influence and institutional knowledge. Any number could have quietly removed a questionable contractor from consideration or flagged suspicious applications. Career bureaucrats, masters of administrative friction, could have deployed their expertise differently—slowing suspicious applications rather than legitimate ones, demanding additional documentation, or simply doing their jobs by visiting the nonprofit distribution sites that journalists later discovered were empty storefronts.
But the machinery of oversight had been recalibrated around different priorities.
The Pendulum’s Swing
Law enforcement and prosecutors had internalized a new philosophy. Years of concern about overcharging and mass incarceration had created an institutional bias toward restraint. The progressive approach—emphasizing rehabilitation over punishment, empathy over enforcement—had become orthodoxy. This wasn’t necessarily wrong in principle, but it created blind spots in practice.
When the prevailing wisdom holds that harsh enforcement causes more harm than good, the institutional reflexes that might catch sophisticated fraud schemes atrophy. The very skills and instincts that prosecutors once relied upon were now viewed with suspicion, even by the prosecutors themselves.
The Fourth Estate’s Absence
Perhaps most puzzling was the media’s delayed response. Major fraud schemes leave trails—suspicious contracts, questionable nonprofits, patterns of payments that don’t match claimed activities. These stories don’t require deep investigative resources so much as basic skepticism and persistence.
Yet for years, the story went untold. What accounts for this collective editorial blind spot? The same social and ideological currents that affected other institutions likely influenced newsrooms as well. When the dominant narrative emphasizes compassion over skepticism, reporters may unconsciously avoid stories that complicate that narrative.
Social Proof and Professional Risk
The community leaders Thompson mentions—board members, nonprofit executives, civic figures—faced their own constraints. In professional networks where certain viewpoints signal virtue and sophistication, dissent carries social costs. The cocktail party circuit that shapes elite opinion had settled on particular truths about criminal justice, social services, and community empowerment.
Raising uncomfortable questions about fraud prevention or accountability could mark someone as unsympathetic, backward, or worse. When career advancement and social standing depend on maintaining good relationships within ideologically coherent networks, the incentives point toward conformity rather than vigilance.
The Paradox of Distributed Responsibility
This case illustrates a peculiar modern phenomenon: system-wide failure despite individual competence. None of these actors were incompetent or malicious. Politicians understood governance, bureaucrats knew their procedures, prosecutors understood the law, reporters could investigate, and community leaders cared about their communities.
The failure occurred because everyone was optimizing for their immediate institutional and social environment rather than the system’s overall integrity. Each actor made rational decisions given their constraints, yet the collective result was irrational—a massive fraud that continued for years despite numerous opportunities for intervention.
The Cost of Consensus
Thompson’s critique suggests something uncomfortable: that the very social and ideological consensus meant to create a more just society may have created new vulnerabilities. When preventing harm becomes conflated with avoiding enforcement, when empathy becomes synonymous with credulity, the institutions meant to protect public resources become unable to protect them.
This doesn’t argue for a return to punitive excess, but rather for institutional cultures capable of holding multiple values in tension—compassion and accountability, reform and vigilance, trust and verification.
The Minnesota fraud case reveals what happens when that balance is lost, when the locus of discretion at every level points in the same direction: away from the uncomfortable work of saying no.