November 22, 2024

Economix Blog: Uwe E. Reinhardt: The Debt of Medical Students

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Uwe E. Reinhardt is an economics professor at Princeton. He has some financial interests in the health care field.

In debates on health work force policy, it is frequently argued that medical education is a public good, because it benefits society as a whole.

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The implication is that tuition charges at medical schools should be zero or close to zero. Many nations in the industrialized world follow that policy, although they have also kept tuition low for most college students.

Most economists disagree with characterizing higher education as a public good. Only the individual receiving a professional education – including the M.D. degree — owns the human capital that the graduation documents certify to exist.

Medical graduates can use their human capital any way they wish. They can treat patients, do medical research or use their knowledge as business consultants to health-related companies or as financial analysts in the financial markets, as some of them do.

There may be some positive spillover for society as a whole from having this privately owned human capital produced, and these effects (called externalities by economists) might warrant some public subsidies toward the production of that human capital. That argument could be extended to many other forms of human capital, as well — e.g., engineers, scientists, nurses.

According to a fact sheet published by the American Association of Medical Colleges, annual tuition and fees at public medical schools in 2011-12 amounted to $30,753, and the total cost of attendance was $51,300. The comparable averages for private medical schools were $48,258 and $69,738. To most Americans, these will seem staggering amounts.

Which brings me to the sizable debt with which, almost uniquely in the world, American medical students now graduate. The association routinely collects data on these debts. A good summary of the most recent data, for 2010, can be found on the previously identified fact sheet, and I created this table from that source.

American Association of Medical Colleges

As the table shows, some of the students’ accumulated debt by time of graduation from medical school was incurred to finance a liberal arts undergraduate education. The $18,000 shown in the table is actually on the low side. According to the Project on Student Debt, college seniors who graduated in 2010 had an average debt of $25,250, with a range among campuses of $950 to $55,250 a student. Individual students at private colleges may have even larger debts. And debt collectors are doing a thriving business collecting these debts.

Amortization of the large debt accumulated by medical students will clearly take a bite of the income they will earn in medical practice. But at least there will be a sizable future income stream to absorb the hit. Many other college graduates have much smaller incomes or are in even direr straits.

The table below conveys a rough indication of what the amortization of medical-school debt might mean for individual students.

In this table I have assumed that the student modeled here had average debt of $161,300 upon graduation from medical school. From that debt I deducted $24,400, the amount to which $18,000 of debt upon graduation from a liberal arts college would grow in four years at a compound interest rate of 7.9 percent (that’s at the high end of the interest rate medical students are charged on debt). The remainder is debt related strictly to the medical education of the student.

I assume that after residency, the practicing physician has a starting net income (after practice costs) of $150,000 or $300,000, and that these incomes will grow at an annual compound growth rate of 3.5 percent over time. Physician incomes vary considerably across specialties and even within specialties.

To get a feel for the data, readers may want to look at several surveys of doctors’ pay.

According to the association’s fact sheet, students pay an interest rate of 6.8 percent on Stafford loans; for lower-income students, the rate is a subsidized 3.4 percent. For Direct Plus loans, students or their parents pay a rate of 7.9 percent, the rate I used in the table.

Finally, I assume two distinct amortization models. Under one, students pay back their debt with flat annual (or monthly) payments over 20 years. That payment is $13,840 a year. Under the alternative approach, the annual amortization payment rises in step with the assumed annual increase in physician income. The first annual payment in that approach is $10,659.

The data in the table represent these annual debt-amortization payments as a percentage of physician net income in years one, 10 and 20 of medical practice.

Clearly, these payments are a noticeable burden, even over 20 years. For amortization over 10 years, they would naturally be higher. On the other hand, the numbers would decline sharply with reductions in the interest rate charged. The table below illustrates the sensitivity of the first-year payment to interest rates and amortization horizon for the payment stream that increases in step with assumed increases in practice income.

The annual amortization payments would be particularly burdensome for primary care physicians, with their relatively lower incomes. That fact is a potential policy lever Congress might employ if it took seriously people’s lament that America is suffering from an acute shortage of primary care physicians.

I shall muse about that and other options in a future post.

Article source: http://economix.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/09/14/the-debt-of-medical-students/?partner=rss&emc=rss

Economix: Producing More Primary-Care Doctors

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Uwe E. Reinhardt is an economics professor at Princeton. He has some financial interests in the health care field.

In “Why Medical School Should Be Free,” a recent commentary in The New York Times, Peter B. Bach, M.D., and Robert Kocher, M.D., proposed that medical school be tuition-free for all students.

Dr. Bach, director of the Center for Health Policy and Outcomes at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center, was a senior adviser at the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services in 2005-6; Dr. Kocher is a guest scholar at the Brookings Institution and was a special assistant to President Obama on health care and economic policy in 2009-10.

The two estimate that the annual tuition for medical students would be roughly $2.5 billion, given current tuition levels that average about $38,000 a year — although these vary among medical schools and are lower at public universities than at private universities.

The authors would not, however, burden taxpayers with that $2.5 billion, trivial though that sum may be at 0.017 percent of our gross domestic product of $15 trillion.

Instead, they would raise the $2.5 billion by forcing medical-school graduates who choose residency training in specialties other than primary care to forgo much or all of their annual salary – currently about $50,000 – during their residency training, which may span four years or more. Residents in primary-care specialties would continue to receive their salaries.

The goal of this proposal is to alleviate the much-lamented shortage of primary-care physicians in many parts of the nation. It would do so by relieving all medical graduates of their heavy, accumulated debt burden after medical school –- estimated at about $200,000 a graduate –-and by providing powerful financial incentives to steer them to primary care rather than other specialties.

Would hard-working residents in the non-primary specialties hold still for this forfeiture of their salaries? They might.

First, the forfeiture would be offset to some extent, although not wholly, by the waiver of medical-school tuition. More importantly, any medical-school graduate bent upon becoming a specialist would have little choice — because any resident is, in effect, an indentured laborer, a circumstance that society has long exploited to its advantage.

By the time someone graduates from medical school and enters residency training, he or she already has made a huge investment of time, effort and money. From the perspective of many medical students, tuition tends to be the smaller part of the total monetary cost of attending medical school.

The much larger part, often double or triple the level of tuition, is the forgone income that medical students might have earned had they taken a job right after graduating from college.

It is reasonable to assume, for example, that given their intelligence and drive, college graduates able to gain acceptance to an American medical school could find a lucrative job elsewhere, perhaps in finance – maybe even in what millions of undergraduates now seem to view as the apex of human existence, trading derivatives at Goldman Sachs.

Fortunately for humanity – and especially for the sick — monetary reward is not the only factor, or the main one, that drives occupational choice among young people. If it were, few bright college graduates today would choose a medical career.

Given the huge investment of time and money that medical students have sunk into their chosen careers by the time they complete medical school, the only way they can reap the financial and non-pecuniary rewards from that huge investment is to undergo the arduous apprenticeship called “graduate medical education” or “residency.”

In this boot camp through which all doctors must pass, residents can be made to work long hours at very low pay, making them among the cheapest forms of labor in any teaching hospital.

For years, medical educators have tried to rationalize these long hours on pedagogic grounds. I am not persuaded. Teaching hospitals have also argued for years that residency programs cost them money. Congress seems persuaded by that argument, currently bestowing on teaching hospitals $10 billion a year in subsidies toward graduate medical education.

But at least some economists, including me, are not persuaded by that argument, either.

A more plausible theory is that residents themselves amply reimburse teaching hospitals for the cost of training by the long hours they work at wages far below what these residents add to the hospitals’ revenue. With proper managerial accounting, I maintain, residency programs would be found to produce net profits at teaching hospitals — as the hospitals would quickly learn if they had to replace the labor of residents with regular, similarly skilled employees.

To be sure, teaching hospitals probably use the profits from residency programs to subsidize the charity care they routinely render the low-income uninsured. So I see the indentured-labor story as one in which society exploits residents to finance health care for the poor that society does not wish to pay for up front. The teaching hospitals merely function as a vehicle for that exploitation. (There must come in the life of every resident the moment when, exhausted, she or he exclaims: “Where is Karl Marx when we need him?”)

If, by law, teaching hospitals were prohibited from paying residents in some specialties any stipends, these residents might view the need to borrow $50,000 or so annually for living expenses as a sound investment, at least in theory.

Drs. Bach and Kocher appear to believe that an adequate number of medical-school graduates would see it that way — but also that some now choosing specialty training would opt for primary-care training instead.

But such forfeiture of their salaries for several years might alter the attitudes these specialists would subsequently bring to medical practice — and the fees they might charge for services and care. In medical parlance, the Bach-Kocher treatment might have unintended and untoward side effects. It behooves policy makers to think of them.

In the meantime, we may all ponder whether simpler solutions are available to address the shortage of primary-care physicians. I am eager to hear the ideas of others, and I will return to this issue in a while.

Article source: http://feeds.nytimes.com/click.phdo?i=5b5c0e6d5ed4f3fd2288699fc27fecf8