$31,500, Part 2

Of course it's ridiculous that A.I.G. employees received $165 million in "retention bonuses" while working for a company that, in usual circumstances, would be the world's biggest failure. (Unfortunately, there are plenty of competitors these days.) The bonuses are indicative of a pay structure in the financial sector, especially on Wall Street, that is irretrievably broken. Bankers, top executives, et al were paid based on the quantity of deals they made and money they moved, not whether their investments were wise, profitable ones in the long run. They were paid handsomely, bought lots of expensive things and, often, left the company they were crippling. It's hard not to be angry when those bonuses, individually, are 10 times larger than my annual salary.

Nonetheless, I consistently find the arguments for why the bonuses should be paid in full far more compelling than those proposing to snatch them back, such as the 90 percent tax passed by the House 10 days ago. The Times' columnists Andrew Ross Sorkin and Joe Nocera offered the most lucid explanations.

Ross-Sorkin's now-(in)famous column is exactly correct: We, the U.S., don't want to live in a country where the government breaks legal contracts in response to whatever deafening roar the latest news cycle and populist opinion have created. Long-term business growth will end. The federal government has already effectively nationalized some of the country's signature corporations -- for example, keeping Pandit and ousting Wagoner -- which is acceptable, considering how broken they are. But through it all, the government needs to remain consistent about what the parameters of the game are. No "average homeowner" or "average union member" would want to see the contracts governing their important assets changed without warning or say, either.

Nocera, among many good points, correctly describes the furor as "destabilizing." Congress and the Obama administration need to create consistent policy that establishes the path to light at the tunnel's end, not turning the economy into an 8-ball. 90 percent taxes help achieve this about as much as saying A.I.G. executives should commit suicide or saying Justice Bader Ginsburg is months away from dying (both comments uttered by Republicans, if I may add). In short, it doesn't help at all. Being enraged at A.I.G. is easy and perhaps cathartic, but it doesn't solve any problem. Thankfully, President Obama appears to realize this.

I even found myself sympathizing with Jake DeSantis, the executive vice president of A.I.G.'s financial products unit, aka the unit that killed the company, who resigned via a lengthy letter in the Times' op-ed page. As he describes himself, he's a person from a very modest family who wasn't part of the unit responsible for the debacle; wants to work honorably to help unwind the company; and in addition to his anger at his boss betraying him, fears for his future, considering the rage directed at all A.I.G. employees. These are all compelling things to write, and demonstrate perhaps the greatest lesson I've learned as a reporter: Things are never easily solved; rarely is someone wholly wrong and someone else wholly right; almost everyone has a reason for doing the things they do and a perspective that deserves to be heard. (Side note: I certainly wonder what it's like being a parent who's with DeSantis at their kids' basketball game these days. What do you say to him?)

However, DeSantis' letter also demonstrates what is probably the other great lesson I've learned as a reporter: There is no agency or responsibility in 21st-century institutions. The system dominates all. Whenever I ask a question about something awry, sources always answer in the passive tense. They don't say, "I decided to stop paying the town's water bill." They say, "It was decided to stop paying the town's water bill." See the difference?

DeSantis worked in the unit that killed A.I.G, yet he was never involved in any of it. In fact, no "more than a handful of the 400 current employees of A.I.G.-F.P." were, he writes. Well, then, who exactly was? Obviously, many have been fired, but who were those people? Can we at least know who those people are, or are they so anonymous and unremarkable that it will only be a gigantic letdown when we find out? Many people in many places were making lots of bad decisions and we don't know who any of those people are. They say they followed the company's plan, their boss' directions, etc, etc, until we reach the point that executives say they were working to return value to shareholders. And who are they? Millions of people. Responsibility is diluted to the point that it's meaningless.