Economics & Finance – Page 15

The glorious irrelevance of Paul Krugman

The economic crisis that started in 2007 exposed deep flaws in conventional macroeconomics. This was wonderfully exposed by Adair Turner, as I have posted before. But many of the macroeconomics’s big beasts seem to plough on regardless. Most shameless of these is Nobel Laureate and New York Times columnist Paul Krugman. This has become apparent in the latest kerfuffle to take the world of macroeconomists: the idea of “secular stagnation”.

This can get very technical very quickly (indeed the technicality of it is something of a hiding place), and I will try to spare my readers of these technical details. The idea of secular stagnation that is the natural rate of interest in many developed economies is less than zero, and has been for some time; since about 2003 according to some, or the 1990s to others. The natural rate of interest is that which is required to balance the supply of savings with their consumption in investment projects. If this rate is negative, then actual interest rates are doomed to be above this rate, and hence not enough investment happens. And because of this, growth rates are dragged down to stagnation levels, while the surplus savings are pumped into assets, creating bubbles, or else excessive debt-fuelled consumption occurs. If you want to read more about there is this excellent article by Gavyn Davies in the FT. This is behind the FT paywall. More accessible in is the speech by Larry Summers, another big beast of old macroeconomics, that set the whole fuss off, which is on YouTube. Unfortunately this takes quite a bit of reading between the lines to understand its implications. And then there is Mr Krugman, who weighs in after the speech with this blog post. This much the most accessible article in all senses – Mr Krugman is one of the best people at explaining economics ideas there is.

Mr Krugman says that his idea encapsulates what he has being saying or feeling for years; and having read him for years, I have no reason to doubt him on that. mr Krugman’s main interest is in an old battle: that between his own liberal-inclined system of “Neo-Keynesian” theory, and the “Neo-Classical” approach favoured by conservatives. To him the crisis and its aftermath simply proves that the Neo-Classicists were wrong. He is right there, but that’s a very old story.

The interesting point is that neo-Keynesianism failed too. It failed for two main reasons. First was that it ignored the implications of the financial system, and levels of debt, in particular. And second it stuck to a theory of money and monetary policy that had barely moved on from the days when most transactions were settled in notes and coins. This blinded them to the scale of the crisis that was building, and blinds them still to the effectiveness of different policy options. In particular they place too much faith in the usefulness of a loose monetary policy, and an obsession with the rate of inflation. Their support for loose fiscal policy is much better grounded. There is not a hint of these problems in Mr Krugman’s writing.

There is something very striking about Mr Krugman’s article. He doesn’t seem that bothered about the forces that driving the economic statistics. There is a bit of speculation that it is something to do with an aging population, but no attempt to get behind the implications of this. Instead he obsesses with good old-fashioned fiscal and monetary policy: the idea being that we need to fix short term problems, and that the more fundamental, structural issues, such as inequality, finance and the efficiency of government, can be fixed in due course later. His signature policy idea is that the rate of inflation should be raised deliberately so that negative real interest rates can rise, which will then help the economy back to growth. Mr Krugman has long advocated just such a policy for Japan and feels entirely vindicated that the Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe is now following his advice.

This insouciance towards the details of what is happening to economies is quite wrong-headed, though. He is right that growth rates in the developed world are stagnating, and that this problem dates back to well before the crisis of 2007. But we need to have a better idea of why. If it is for fundamental reasons, such as demographics and the changed nature of technological innovation, what is the point trying to take the economy to a place that it cannot go sustainably? And surely policy solutions must be sensitive to the complexities of an evolving economy? If labour markets work in a very different way, thanks to technological change and globalisation, then the old assumptions about inflation could be wrong. We are in danger of misreading the implications of a low inflation rate, and policies designed to increase its level could have malign effects. In Japan, employers are refusing to raise wages in the face of increased inflation expectations, so Mr Abe’s policy is starting to unravel.

Mr Krugman comes through as gloriously irrelevant to modern policymakers. Right some of the time, wrong on other occasions, and with nothing to say on many crucial questions, his ideas are so disconnected from the realities of the modern economy that they have become quite useless. Macroeconomics needs to learn and move on. The likes of Mr Krugman and Mr Summers should either embrace new ideas or bow out.

What is neoliberalism? The left’s muddle does not help reverse its progress

Political movements tend to be united by what they oppose, rather than any positive things they stand for. Today the political left unite against a universal enemy, which they name “neoliberalism”. The word is bandied about much as “socialism” is by the political right. But what is it? And is it a useful descriptive term? I believe it is, but that the left is muddled by what it is and is not.

According to Wikipedia neoliberalism started its life in the 1930s as a middle path between classical liberalism on the one hand, and the state planning ideologies of fascism and communism on the other. Classical liberalism advocated a minimal state, and, in practice, a world in which big capitalist corporations could thrive. It was widely blamed for the economic catastrophe that followed 1929 in capitalist economies. Neoliberalism stood for something called a “social market”, backed by a strong state. Nowadays, the left make no real distinction between classical liberalism and neoliberalism. This speech by Susan George in 1999, and posted recently on Facebook by a friend, illustrates this quite well – a lot of what she rails at should in fact be defined as classical liberalism. This is interesting, and not necessarily wrong. Neoliberal ideas have provided cover for a lot of classical liberal ideas – and neoliberals have seen state socialism as their main enemy, rather than unfettered capitalism.

I think it is best to understand neoliberalism in terms of three core ideas:

Markets are an unbeatable information exchange. Markets are idolised, because they are seen as the most efficient possible way of reconciling the masses of information that modern societies require to keep moving. This idea of the market as an information exchange, famously advanced by Freidrich Hayek, is a very powerful one, and an advance on the rather abstracted ideas of classical economists.
People respond to incentives. Pretty much all human behaviour, good or bad, can be understood as a response to external incentives. This is often developed into the idea of all people being independent agents rationally responding to the opportunities around them according to a set of pre-defined preferences – often referred to as homus economicus. However, the idea is deeper and stronger than this theoretically convenient way of looking at things.
Direct state management is inefficient. This actually follows from the previous two ideas, but takes on a life of its own in the minds of its followers. The state is incapable of processing information about people’s wants and needs with the efficiency of a market; the state’s officers generally respond to their personal incentives, often simply to secure a stable and easy job. Result: gross inefficiency. When any of the known theoretical weaknesses of markets are presented to neoliberal advocates, their response is often to accept them, but to point out that to try and solve them through a state managed solution would make things even worse.

There is a general view, supported by Ms George’s speech, that neoliberalism took hold in the 1980s, under Britain’s Margaret Thatcher and America’s Ronald Reagan’s political leadership, and the economist Milton Freidman providing theoretical heft. From these beginnings it developed into an orthodoxy across the developed world that, according to the left, still grips the political establishment today. The financial crisis of 2007-09 has not drained it of power, as the left thinks it should have done.

There is some puzzlement on the left as to how this neoliberal takeover happened. Ms George paints a glowing picture of the Keynesian consensus that preceded it, and derides any idea that neoliberal ideas had any real persuasive power in their own right. She resorts to a sort of conspiracy theory of coordinated and determined vested interests. Well, I was there, and voted for Mrs Thatcher in 1979 (though not afterwards), and find the rise of neoliberal ideas entirely unsurprising. Britain, in particular, was in a miserable state: and the “Keynesian” consensus was an evident failure. It had failed to respond to the changed world that followed the oil crisis, resulting in unemployment and inflation. We were surrounded by national bureaucracies and nationalised industries of an inefficiency that today people would find unbelievable. Much of what they said, especially about state directed solutions, rang true. Many politically powerful vested interests opposed the change – but the neoliberals were pushing at an open door in the world of ideas.

Trying to put all this in perspective is made harder by the following things that have accompanied the rise of neoliberalism:

There has been a dramatic change to the industrial and economic base to developed societies since 1945 (well since long before that, of course). In the first phase manufacturing industry advanced, in such a way that much of the capacity built to support the war effort could be readily redeployed (in contrast to what followed the 1914-18 war); this was the basis of an unambiguous economic miracle that lifted many out of poverty. In the second phase, from the 1980s, manufacturing industry became much more efficient, while the appetite for its production hit saturation; the economy switched to services. This has created huge dislocation, and, more recently, the disappearance of mid level jobs. It has driven overall growth in wealth, but also tended to increase inequality. Neoliberal policies have helped this transition forward, but were not the underlying cause of it.
Capitalist corporations have remained as strong as ever, and have grown increasingly able to press forward their interests in the political system, especially in America. They are not fundamentally neoliberal in outlook (their aim is to rig markets and not empower them, but they usually camouflage their lobbying in neoliberal terms. We should be careful not to exaggerate their power though. The corporations have not had it all their own way: their life expectancy has dramatically reduced over the period. Neither are these faceless corporations entirely managed for the benefit of a small elite; they have also benefited armies of employees, and their institutional shareholders are often pension funds that likewise transmit their gains to ordinary people.
A lot of theoretical economists have got carried away with their models based on homus economicus, and these have become a soft target for neoliberalism’s critics. But often these criticisms amount to criticising the tactics and not the strategy: about how people respond to incentives, and not the idea that incentives drive behaviour.

Ms George manages to be muddled by all of these things, leading to a speech that can only be called paranoid. I suspect many on the left share her views, though, and feel that they have been vindicated by the events of the decade and a half since. This muddle, and their failure to clear identify and advocate alternative approaches to the neoliberal consensus, means their persuasiveness is doomed to be very limited.

Meanwhile political centrists seem to be trying to recover something of the original neoliberal outlook: the social market. The use of market mechanisms within a society that is still dominated by the state. As somebody who tends to the political centre I would like to say that this offers the most constructive way forward. But I have to point out that the great financial crisis of 2007-09 resulted from the collapse of just such a middle way philosophy, in the world of finance and banking. While the left blames it on rampant capitalism and greed, cack-handed state intervention was just as much of a problem, and the combination was lethal. It was a neoliberal project in the original sense of the word.

Where does that leave us? A lot of what neoliberals say is true. We need to grow up and recognise that. But a lot of it isn’t; and its failures are currently more important that its successes. Our societies’ institutions have not kept pace with the changed nature of society and the economy. But it will require a large dose of state direction, especially in education and housing, to fix this.

The Twitter launch tells you all you need to know about financial markets

Yesterday Twitter launched itself onto the financial markets by offering a small proportion of its share for sale. The company sold them for $26 each. By the close of the day they were being sold for $44; during the day they had been even higher. Last week The Economist carried out a sober assessment of what they thought the shares were worth. They thought that investors should not pay more than $18. So what is going on?

No new information was revealed last week that might raise the share valuations. Instead we get a lot candyfloss arguments about why investors should buy the shares: arguments that taste sweet but disappear as soon as you try to digest them. There is talk of growth potential and strategic value – but studious avoidance of how much these are already built into the price. For those of us brought up to believe that share values reflect the discounted value of future cash flows this sobering. But serious money is behind the price movements. Who is buying at these stupid prices?

The answer is that people are buying because they think they will increase in value in the short term, and that they can sell out at a profit before any trouble starts. They are not watching long term value; they are watching the other guy. This logic may make some sense for an individual investor (or perhaps more correctly “trader”), but collectively it is madness. It simply leads to asset price bubbles. And there is a lot of it about.

This leads to a massive source of instability at the heart of the world’s financial system. But what to do about it? The first thing to say is that the world’s central bankers should stop treating asset price bubbles as a minor aberration of the system whose damaging effects can be contained. They are the big deal: a more important source of instability than the consumer price inflation that they still tend to focus on. Such policies as quantitative easing should be assessed in that light.

You can’t and shouldn’t stop people speculating on financial assets with their own money. Ultimately this leads to more realistic prices. What fuels bubbles is when people speculate with other people’s money: “leverage” in the jargon. Banks and financial institutions should lend money for proper investment projects, and a modest amount for purchases of existing property for people to live in or use productively. They should not be lending to speculators. Since 2008 people are more aware of the dangers. Alas we have a long, long way to go.

What went wrong with economics?

It is commonplace to suggest that economics, as taught in our schools and universities, badly failed prior to the great financial crisis of 2007/08. But beyond this, things get a lot less clear. People tend to pipe up and attack aspects of the discipline that they have never liked; in the circles I move this tends to be the “neoliberal” ideas of well-functioning markets. This does not seem to be based on any real analysis, though. And universities plough on teaching the same old stuff as if nothing had happened, no doubt because nothing particularly coherent has replaced the old models. It is worth looking at the substance behind the remarkable failure of this discipline, which attracts so much intellectual heft in our era.

The failure of economics, and the imperious discipline of macroeconomics in particular, has been described brilliantly by Adair Turner in a recent lecture. I have already referred to this in an earlier post, but now I have been able to lay my hands on a copy of the text. It’s a challenge to read the 38 pages if you don’t have an academic economics training; but it’s well worth a try if you are not too daunted by this.

My personal perspective comes from the fact that I was a mature student on the BSc undergraduate course in Economics at UCL in the years 2005-08, just as the boom years were coming to an end, and the crisis started to develop, though before the seminal bankruptcy of Lehman Brothers, and the full blown crisis that followed in its wake. We were taught the standard macroeconomic model, referred to as the neo-Keynesian model, which nearly comprised a consensus at the time, although our lecturers were not beyond a little healthy scepticism.

Three related failures stand out. The first was an indifference to the potential macroeconomic impact of finance, and debt in particular. The fact that debt levels were exploding did not affect the models at all. You may think that economists are obsessed with money, but they treat it as a veil, and they try to see through it to a “real” economy of people and things. Finance is just tactics; a means to and which should not bother the imperial-level grand strategists too much. Besides, debt is two sided; for every debtor there is a creditor, and it all cancels out. If Matthew lends Mark £100, who in turn lends it to Luke, who in his turn lends it to John, who actual invests it in something, what has happened? £100 of debt has turned into £300 but there is still only £100 of investment. The bottom line is that Matthew lent £100 and John spent it; Mark and Luke are where they were beforehand. Do the machinations of intermediaries really matter?

This was much too complacent. Suppose Matthew, Mark, Luke and John are financially stretched, and a £100 loss will push them over the edge. If John’s investment fails, and he goes bust; he can’t pay Luke, who can’t pay back Mark, who can’t pay back Matthew. All four go bust, whereas just two would have done if Matthew had lent directly to John. The more overall levels of debt ramp up, the more likely it is that such contagion effects occur. I remember British policymakers expressing disbelief that a little trouble in the U.S. subprime property market could possibly have such a big global impact. And it isn’t just bankruptcy that is the issue; financial difficulties could simply cause a reduction in consumption – which would cause excessive saving in the economy at large, with bad macroeconomic effects, which can be very widespread from a rather small proximate cause.

The second problem was the fact that so little of the borrowing was invested in new investment projects, as theory supposed, with the majority being directed towards buying existing assets, and some to support additional consumption based on increased asset values. Hyman Minsky long ago pointed out that this type of investment simply led to asset price bubbles. And even if it had been directed towards “proper” investment, a similar bubble effect can occur. The latter was a point made by Friedrich Hayek. In spite of these warnings, the possibility of asset price bubbles, and what to do about them, was widely ignored.

The third problem centred on monetary policy. Economists used a theory of money that had scarcely moved on from the use of notes and coins. They assumed that bank money works in an equivalent way; that banks only lend money that has already been deposited, and that the whole money creation process is controlled by the central bank. Over a century ago the Swedish economist, Knut Wicksell pointed out the absurdity of this. Commercial banks effectively have the power to create money out of nowhere. And in any case, it really isn’t possible to distinguish the “transaction money” on which the theory depends, from other sorts of money, for example that being held just for safekeeping. I have frequently blogged about this blindness of conventional economists, shown by their frequent references to non-existent printing presses, and talk of throwing bundles of banknotes out of helicopters. This is almost as nonsensical as a metaphor as it is literally, and shows an utter failure of imagination.

The outcome of these failures was that most economists thought that high levels of debt, and the possibility of asset price bubbles, were just details that should not detain the grand strategist, and that the main thing was for central banks to watch consumer price inflation, while finance ministers should simply keep budget deficits small.

So, as the world’s finance sector boomed, finding ever cleverer ways to hide slimmer margins by increasing leverage, and debt levels exploded in many developed economies, the world’s policymakers looked on without too much concern. Inflation and budget deficits looked fine; everything else would sort itself out in due course. Indeed, since the world economy was delivering steady growth, many thought they had found the answer to life, the world and everything. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. And many economists made a fortune from the finance boom. Most of the students on my course chose it as a path to get rich via investment banking or management consultancy.

It is, incidentally, easier to say that economists were wrong, than it is to say that the disaster was their fault. If more economists had piped up to sound warnings, the political pressures to ignore them would have been overwhelming. If they had been heeded, then maybe banking would have been a bit less out of control. But there were other factors driving the instability, including the huge export surpluses of China and oil exporters – which pumped money into the developed world financial system, creating near-on insoluble problems. The situation would have been a bit like global warming – strong awareness from the academic community quite unable to stop overwhelming global political forces and the power of sheer human greed.

Still, the discipline of economics has been left in a sorry state. As Lord Turner points out, in the 1950s they had all the knowledge and insights needed to take it in a less blinkered direction. Wicksell, Hayek and Minsky were all highly respected economists; Maynard Keynes highlighted all the issues lucidly in his General Theory. But instead economists went up a forty year blind alley, becoming more sophisticated with the detail even as the fundamentals became more and more unrealistic. East coast liberals were as badly off track as Chicago supply-siders. It’s no wonder that so many are still in denial and still teaching the discredited models, as if only a few details here and there need to fixed. How can you discard such a huge volume of thinking in one go?

But the economic disaster is too big to be glossed over. Whether or not economic theory has caught up, policymakers understand that the banking system is a major problem, and that you can have too much debt. The last time such a disaster hit economics was in the stagflation era of the 1970s; let’s hope economists’ response to this crisis is more robust than that one!

Are the Muslims right about debt?

The Biblical invocation against usury, making loans for interest, has been discarded by the two older Abrahamic religions, the Jews and the Christians, though it persists in Islam. I used to think the prohibition was another obsolete idea, based on a misunderstanding of the usefulness of finance. But as time goes by, the more I come to see that the biblical fathers, or God if you prefer, were on to something. The dysfunctional nature of financial markets is one of the modern world’s most pressing problems.

This reflection comes on the fifth anniversary of the collapse of Lehman Brothers, which was the point at which the current financial crisis broke out into the open. This has lead to a flurry of newspaper comment. I was most drawn to an article by Gillian Tett in the FT, covering a talk given by Adair Turner, the former head of Britain’s financial regulator, the FSA. Unfortunately this behind the FT paywall, and I cannot find coverage anywhere else. Lord Turner produced a blog, but this only covers part of the subject matter, and not the most interesting bit reported by Ms Tett. Lord Turner says that we have not really come to grips with the failure of financial markets that became evident with the Lehman episode.

The most eye-catching thing about financial markets, which is the main point made in the blog, is the explosion of private sector debt. In 1960, according to Lord Turner, household debt in the UK was just 15% of total income; by 2008 it has risen to 200%. If you start to add up loans made by financial institutions to each other, then even that figure looks pretty tame (837% according to this rather good Economist School’s Brief on the subject – though this suggests a little confusion in Lord Turner’s numbers on household debt). But the statistic that hit me most forcibly was the claim that only 15% of the money that flows into financial products actually gets invested in proper wealth-creating projects.

Macroeconomists have long been dismissive of the significance of debt and financial markets in their imperious declarations about the state of national and global economies. These are just means to an end, and they all cancel out – one person’s debt is another’s asset; what matters is the real world of what is produced and consumed. Economists are reluctantly having to rethink this, though most would still rather divert the discussion into conventional subjects about austerity and money supply. Lord Turner’s 15% statistic, however, should translate the issue into one which even an old-fashioned macroeconomist can understand. There is a massive gap between what people set aside to save, and what is actually invested. Financial markets are meant to be the channel by which savings are turned into investments – but instead they are simply a smokescreen hiding a black hole, as it were.

Let’s pause for breath, and look at the problem from another angle. One of the critical points of economics, too often forgotten, is that money and financial assets have no intrinsic value. They are simply useful tools by which we can coordinate the process of producing work and consuming its output. You can think of it as being a bit like electricity. You cannot store it. If people want work now, and consume later at leisure, the simple act of putting aside money won’t do the trick. You have to persuade other people to be around to do the work for you when you want to do your consumption. The wider purpose behind financial products is to help us to do this, to balance our over-production now (i.e. saving) with over-consumption later, or vice versa. Theses activities depend on coordination with people who want to do the opposite, and that is what financial markets are meant to do. How? Through investment. Investment is work that is done now to produce things that can be consumed later. This allows production without consumption in money terms to be balanced by a real world equivalent. Maynard Keynes’s great breakthrough was understanding that the failure of the money and real worlds to match was the main cause of recessions.

So if 85% of savings are not actually invested, there is a problem. Where does the money go? There seem to be two main places. Firstly a lot of it consumed by intermediaries – those fat-cat salaries included – to no real purpose. Secondly a lot of it goes into inflating the prices of assets, real estate or financial assets, that exist already. In other words it is a colossal waste of time which simply serves to make a lucky few rich. And meanwhile huge volumes of debt are being created, much of which can never be repaid. Or, to put it another way, we have manufactured vast banks of financial assets which are not worth anything like what we think.

This spells trouble ahead, as this situation will only resolve itself through, one way or another, debt being forgiven and assets written down. The owners of those assets show no sign that they understand this; or if they do, they simply assume that it is somebody else that will pay. Meanwhile the best we can do is not to make things worse. Amongst other things that means continuing to make life miserable for the banks and the financial sector, and hope that, as they shrink, they concentrate on the more socially useful aspects of it work.

What those old Jewish and Christian fathers understood, and Islamic scholars still understand, is that debt creates moral problems by dehumanising the relationship between debtor and creditor. Financial assets are in fact human relationships between real people, which we are attempting to abdicate responsibility for. Alas though, it is unthinkable that our current economic system, with its manifold benefits, can be created or sustained without them. But we would all be better off if we understood the moral and personal implications, and consequent limitations, of financial assets and the markets through which we acquire them.

Positive linking: what do networks mean for public policy?

I ndependent and identically distributed. This assumption about data subject to statistical analysis is so routine that most students reduce it to the acronym “IID”. It means that the data follows a normal distribution and a routine set of analytical tools becomes available for the calculation of such things as confidence levels. Most of the evidence used by economists and other social scientists to support their theories is based on this type of analysis, and an IID assumption in the data. And yet human societies do not behave in accordance with this assumption; most of the choices we make are based on choices that other people have made, and are not independent. They are subject to network effects. It is a problem that most academic economists would rather not acknowledge. But the implications are profound.

This reflection comes to me after reading the book Positive Linking by Paul Ormerod. In this book Mr Ormerod attempts to show that all modern economics is deeply flawed because it ignores network effects, and that in future public policy should promote “positive linking”: promotion through network connections, rather than simply the design of incentives. He is only tangentially concerned with my worry over statistical analysis: he is more focused with the models built by economists based on rational people (or agents in the jargon) making independent choices based on an analysis of their options and preferences. These theoretical models lie behind the bulk of modern economic analysis, such how people might respond to taxes or changes to interest rates.

Unfortunately it is a very disappointing piece of writing. The language flows well enough, but it is full of repetition and digression. This sort of style probably works better orally than on the page, where it is a drag. But it is worse than that. His main concern seems to be to debunk conventional economic analysis rather than to promote a clearer understanding of networks and their implications. This verges on the unhinged sometimes, and you do not get the impression that arguments of the defenders of conventional economics get a fair hearing, and therefore that they are dealt with adequately. There are a lot of illustrations and “evidence”, but these are used anecdotally rather than to build up a coherent logical case. There are many digressions, for example about the rise of Protestantism in Tudor England. These seem to be included because they are good stories rather than taking his argument forward. The debunking of conventional economics is all rather old hat, though, and it has been done more coherently and entertainingly by authors such as Nasim Nicholas Taleb (of Black Swan fame).

The diatribes and digressions leave Mr Ormerod with inadequate space to develop his “twenty-first century model of rational behaviour”. His suggestions about how this might work in practice are left to a few pages at the end, and even this tends to drift into diatribes over how things are done now. For example he claims that sixty years of centralised, big-state social democratic government since the War has been a failure – on the grounds that unemployment is much the same on average as beforehand. But you can easily argue that this is the most successful period of public government in world ever – look at the rise in life expectancy, for example. Neither is it all that clear that everything, or even most things, these governments did was based on conventional economic models of human behaviour. Instead of explaining the religious dynamics of 16th Century England, he could have spent some time and space developing his argument here.

What a pity: because in the end I think he is right, and his suggestions for the way forward are sound. It isn’t that government since the War has failed, it is that its methods have run their course, and its policies now only seem to benefit an elite. Conventional economic analysis has more going for it than he suggests, but they are a blind alley now. But many economists and policy makers are in denial, to judge by the public debate – though some clear network-based ideas, like “nudge” theory are making their presence felt.

But there is a problem at the heart of the new twenty-first century network thinking, which Mr Ormerod acknowledges but dismisses too easily. The new models have weak predictive power. The point about normal distributions and the IID assumption that they are based on is that they produce a relatively tight distribution of data around a mean and few extreme results – “thin tails” in the jargon. There is a sleight of hand here: statisticians’ use of randomised data make their analysis sound more robust than it is; the IID assumption in fact makes the data tightly constrained. Consider a random walk, comprising a series of steps forward and equal steps backward. If the probability that your next step will be forward or backward is always 50% each, and the direction of earlier steps does not affect the direction of the next step, then this is an IID assumption. It sounds truly random. But you are unlikely to get very far from the starting point, which isn’t really very random at all. If your next step was more likely to be in the same direction as your last step than not, then you can end up anywhere. That’s real randomness, but it isn’t IID. There is no normal distribution. What looks like a soft assumption is in fact a hard one.

So it’s not just a question of changing the maths and updating the models. It is about accepting that social systems are fundamentally more unpredictable than we have previously accepted. It is not hard to see why policy makers and social scientists have struggled to accept this. I like to describe this by invoking the idea of “zeitgeist” – the spirit of the time, a ephemeral and unpredictable quality that in fact runs at the heart of everything. This is closely linked to Mr Ormerod’s ideas of networks, since it is networks that sustain the zeitgeist.

What to do? Mr Ormerod offers some useful rules of thumb. He also suggests investing more into research of network effects, which is self-interested but sensible, so long as we do not expect this to yield insights of anything like the theoretical precision of conventional methods. But ultimately his big idea, which he does woefully little to develop, is much greater delegation and localisation of decision making. Amen to that.

Can we learn from the 1930s?

Liberal Democrat conference goers are shaping up to a confrontation in three weeks’ time over economic policy. On the one hand the leadership wants to defend the current coalition government’s record; on the other many activists feel that this policy has been a dismal failure. This confrontation has been brewing for some years. It reflects a wider controversy in the country at large, though one senses that most people are now moving on. In this argument it does not usually take long before the government’s critics refer to the experience of the 1930s recession, or Depression, to back up their case. It’s worth unpicking that a bit.

My main source on this is a pamphlet produced by the think tank Centre Forum: Delivering growth while reducing deficits: lessons from the 1930s by Nicholas Crafts published in 2011. This concentrates on the experience of the UK. The first thing to point out is that the UK experience of the Depression is very different from the US one, though they are often conflated when people refer to the Depression now (just as the current experiences of the UK and US get conflated, especially noticeable when critics of UK policy quote U.S economist Paul Krugman in their support). The U.S. suffered a banking collapse, which then caused a catastrophic collapse in the rest of the economy, with real GDP falling by as much as 36% (hitting bottom in 1931); it only got back to its 1929 level in 1940. Behind the US collapse was a structural transfer of economic activity from agriculture to manufacturing, which it took the war economy to complete. Britain’s crisis was much less severe; it suffered a major loss of exports and economic shrinkage, but no banking collapse. The economy hit bottom also in 1931, just over 7% down from 1929 and was back to 1929 levels in 1933; by 1940 it was over 20% ahead. By comparison with the U.S. the structural move from agriculture to manufacturing was much more advanced when the recession struck. Britain was, however, struggling to adjust to a world where it could not rely on its Empire to drive its economy.

In fact, after flatlining in 1930 and losing over 5% in 1931, the UK made rather a successful recovery from the recession, as Mr Crafts (a professor of economic history at Warwick University) points out. This was achieved in spite the government cutting expenditure and raising taxes – austerity policies in today’s talk. Mr Crafts is very clear as to why: loose monetary policy. Specifically interest rates where kept low, and the authorities persuaded people that inflation would be persistent (at about 4%), giving negative real interest rates, while the pound was allowed to devalue. Something similar happened in the U.S in the New Deal era. Mr Crafts suggests that this formula should be repeated now, if the Bank of England could credibly suggest that inflation would increase to about 4% for the medium term, instead of its 2% target. This is quite topical, as this is almost exactly the strategy of the current Japanese government, the so-called “Abenomics”.

One point of interest in this is the rival claims of “Keynesians”, who advocate fiscal stimulus (extra government expenditure) and monetarists, who advocate loose monetary policy – though quite a few, like Mr Krugman, advocate both. Both groups refer back the Depression for support. In fact fiscal stimulus was not much used in the 1930s, while loose monetary policy was. Fiscal stimulus only came into its own at the end of the 1930s and in the 1940s, when it was led by rearmament and provoked by fears and then the reality of war.

I must admit that I find the parallels with the 1930s, especially in Britain, to be entirely unconvincing. The one clear lesson I would draw is that a banking collapse, as happened in the US in 1929, can be catastrophic. The world’s authorities were absolutely right to head this off in 2008-2009, even if that leaves awkward questions over how we got into the mess in the first place. That lesson was well learned, but there the lessons pretty much end. Further lesson-drawing leans on a species of macroeconomic blindness, a sort inverse of the composition fallacies that macroeconomists like to accuse their critics of. This entails taking false confidence by examining a collection of aggregated statistics, dipping down only selectively into the realities that lie behind them.

Consider some important differences between the world of the 1930s to the 2010s, for Britain in particular:

Britain’s banking sector was in much better shape in the 1930s. It was less dominated by big institutions (there was a thriving building society movement) and these institutions had not overreached in the way they had in 2008. The main barrier to borrowing was lack of demand for loans, which lower real interest rates incentivised.
There were many fewer barriers to house building in the 1930s. The main source of investment in the 1930s recovery was private sector house building. It clearly helped then that there was a severe house shortage, and inflation encouraged people to bring forward building projects. There is a housing shortage now, of course, and to be fair Mr Crafts says that barriers to house building would have to be tackled. But more than planning barriers are involved here. There is the general zeitgeist around the future direction of property prices; this is largely founded on the idea of restricted supply. Currently developers are holding back on many projects not because of finance, or lack planning permission, but because of doubts over the future direction of property prices.
Nowadays we live in a world of highly integrated financial markets and global trade. This has changed the way fiscal and monetary policy work. It is by no means certain (and in my view highly unlikely) that loose monetary policy would work itself out in such a benign way as in the 1930s. Would inflation in fact increase? If it did would wages stay ahead of prices? And if wages did not stay ahead of prices would companies invest their profits so as to boost domestic demand? (There is a fascinating aside in Mr Crafts’s pamphlet here. In the 1930s the Treasury assumed that prices would indeed run ahead of wages, boosting corporate profits, which would boost the economy. In fact wages kept pace with prices and the domestic demand was behind the growth). And bumping up inflation would quite likely cause the price of government gilts to plummet, making it harder to finance the national debt: in this day and age it is not as easy to inflate your way out of debt as many economists assume.

And that’s just the start. The more you investigate and think about the rights or wrongs of different policies, the less relevant the 1930s looks. It is just as bad for fiscal policy. In the 1930s and 1940s rearmament was a useful outlet. It soaked up surplus labour quickly and led to the building of industrial capacity that, as it turned out, could be readily reassigned to more constructive and benign uses. And the threat of war was horribly real, allowing the public to be mobilised behind the dislocation of the civilian economy. I cannot see what the modern equivalent is. Rearmament now, even if you can find a wider justification, would require the wrong skills and capabilities. The building of social housing is a possibility, I think, but would be insufficient in its own right.

Indeed I think the real issue of substance that divides critics of the coalition from its supporters, among Liberal Democrats anyway, is whether there is a pool of £20 billion or so of capital projects that the government can immediately and profitably get in motion. In the 1930s and 1940s it was weapons. In the 2010s it is what?

The Euro does not need a federal superstate to prosper

The Euro crisis is in one of its quiet phases. But few are foolish enough to think that its future is now secure. It is often said that the currency is destined to fail because of a fundamental economic law which means that you cannot operate a successful currency without the full authority and resources of a state behind it. The Euro needs to the apparatus of a federal superstate to survive, it is said. One Tory MP even suggested that the Euro’s promoters were committing fraud to suggest otherwise. But, for all that many in Brussels want it, establishing such a superstate is not politically feasible. And yet it is possible to see emerging the institutional architecture that will allow the Euro to survive and prosper without it. It’s a hard road, but there are enough benefits for the currency’s members to persist with it.

There are four key elements to the architecture. The first is an obvious one: a powerful European Central Bank (ECB), able to do what it takes to ride out the various crises that financial markets will throw at the system. The current ECB has proved up to the task, albeit by pushing at the boundaries of its formal powers, for example by buying the debt of member governments on the secondary market. Confidence that it can handle future crises is growing, adding to the overall stability of the system. And yet this power has its limits; it cannot transfer taxpayer funds from one country to another (referred to as “fiscal transfers” by economists), in the way a federal government could. The Euro has to find a way of existing without the sort of massive fiscal transfers that you see in the United States, for example.

In its place is the second element: provisions for states to default on their debts. This has been resisted tooth and nail by Euro federalists, but at long last it has been implemented for Greece. Alongside this, a crisis infrastructure is emerging, including crisis funds to support governments that are in the process of restructuring their obligations. This whole process needs to go further: publicly held government debt, e.g. that bought by the ECB, needs to be included, for example. Greece will surely need another restructure. But we are seeing the different nations’ bond prices reflecting the risk of default, and this imposes a discipline on government finances. And no government will want to follow the humiliating path of Greece into default, if they can help it.

There remains the problem of managing the banking system, which is very much run along national lines. While Greece got into trouble because of a profligate government, Ireland, Spain and Cyprus were brought down by banking crises. At first the response to a banking crisis was for governments to underwrite all banks’ creditors in order to restore confidence. Many applauded the Irish government when they did this early in the crisis; but it is a terrible idea, transferring liabilities from various people who should have known better to taxpayers who could ill afford it. Therefore the third element of the new architecture is to force bank creditors to pay, or at least contribute to, bailing out bust banks, referred to as “bailing in”. This solution was put in place for Cyprus, and hopefully will be the pattern in future. Of course it remains possible for financially strong governments, like Germany’s, to stand behind their own banks – but this should be discouraged. It is essential for discipline to be brought back into banking, and the system whereby bankers keep the profits and pass losses on to taxpayers has to be terminated.

But this approach is undeniably destabilising; it adds to the risk of bank runs. The obvious solution to this is to establish a Europe wide deposit insurance scheme, just as America has its federal scheme. Initially European governments seemed to favour this, but as they grew to understand its full implications, possible taxpayer transfers between states and increased central regulation, they have backed off. This has left us with the fourth and final element of the new architecture: emergency capital controls. This has been implemented for Cyprus, where depositors at Cyprus banks are suffering severe limits to their ability to move money out. It is an ugly process, and represents a big step bank from the integrated ideal of the Euro. The third and fourth elements in particular mean that a Euro held in a German bank is worth more than one held in a Portuguese one, say. But this is better than the alternatives, which attempt to wish financial risks away into an anonymous federal centre.

I believe that these four elements can evolve into a system that will give the Euro long lasting stability, and a better distribution of risk than a federal system would. We must remember that systems of human relations are only in a small part dependent of formal laws and powers, and much more based on expectations of how people should and will behave. This is how the management of the Euro is evolving. In the early days those expectations were wholly unrealistic, and ultimately required some kind of federal system to underwrite them. Now that we know this cannot be, new expectations are evolving. This is a bit like the way the British constitution and Common Law develops.

But is it worth it? Is it a loveless marriage between southern economies locked into permanent austerity, and more dynamic northern ones which are constantly being dragged down by their neighbours? (And France which manages to be on both sides of this equation at once!) If so the enterprise will lose political support and die anyway.

This question deserves a post all to itself, but I believe that all this pain has benefits to both sides. For the southern economies, joining the Euro was all about converging with their rich northern neighbours and their higher standard of living. Unfortunately they at first thought this would be easy. Lower interest rates and hot money from the north created a short term boom, but could not do the trick. Endless tax transfers (like between north and south Italy), are not on offer, and probably wouldn’t work either. In order to raise living standards the southern economies will have to undertake a painful series of reforms, rather in the way Britain did in the 1980s, Sweden in the 1990s, and, to a lesser extent, Germany in the 2000s. The process is starting, and the new disciplines of the Euro zone help this.

And for the northern economies of Germany, the Netherlands and Finland? Being in the Euro gives them a more stable economic environment, at a time when the global economy has been destabilised by the rising of China and other emerging markets. With a lower exchange rate than otherwise they have been able to preserves their exporting industries and maintain a degree of social stability. You only have to look at Britain to see what might have happened otherwise. There a short-term boom and appreciating exchange rate led to a flooding in of cheap imports and a hollowing out of export industries. Living standards grew for a while, but it could not last. The country is still struggling to escape the bust of 2008/09, with exports remaining weak.

The first decade and a half of the Euro has not been a happy experience, taken as a whole. But these are difficult times for developed world economies. In these circumstances the Euro remains a good idea, and indeed eastern European countries are still queuing to join. In the rough, interconnected world that is the modern economy, living with a freely floating currency is much harder than many would have you believe.

The GDP obsession

Today initial estimates of Britain’s quarterly GDP figures have been published. It has become a very silly circus. The BBC Today programme was giving it a lot air time this morning, in spite of not knowing what the crucial number was. Instead they made do with economists’ guesses. This is what they usually do, in spite of the fact that the guesses are often very wrong – though this time they were spot on. A much more informative discussion will be possible once the figures are released, and experts have had a chance to root around the detail. But by then it won’t be news, and the BBC won’t cover it. Meanwhile some even more meaningless political posturing is taking place. I just wish economists, journalists and politicians would show a bit of humility on the topic. As a measure GDP is not all it is cracked up to be.

The first problem is that, although it is quite a simple concept in theory, it is very complex in practice, making the implications of movements difficult to understand. In the UK economists have been puzzling over the fact that the current economic downturn (often trumpeted as being one of the worst in history) has not affected jobs nearly as much as previous downturns. This is often articulated as a “productivity gap”, since if income, and hence production, is falling faster than the number of jobs, productivity (production divided by jobs) must be falling. The Institute of Chartered Accountants’ Economia magazine ran a vey interesting article on this (Measure for Measure), which simply asked a whole series of prominent economists what they thought was going on. It was very revealing. Quite a few took a very superficial view, without probing behind the numbers much, speculating a bit, and then launching into some hobby horse or other, such as the need to stimulate aggregate demand, or let companies go bust more readily. But a number had clearly taken some trouble to get behind the numbers to understand what was going on. And when they did this, they picked up a very complicated picture, and they started to worry that the numbers were at all meaningful or accurate. Several speculated that the official figures were understating the level of GDP because they were not measuring some aspect of the economy properly, usually associated with services and new technology. They further speculated that, though GDP was artificially low now, this would be corrected in due course, when artificially high growth numbers would come through.

Another point that came through was that a large part of the “gap” arose from the fact that North Sea oil and financial services had shrunk. These sectors gave rise to a lot of product (albeit largely fictitious in the case of financial services) but not many jobs. Which leads me to a second problem with GDP: it doesn’t measure economic wellbeing very well. If these two sectors shrank, and it mainly affected a small number of very wealthy people, surely we can take its loss with a bit of a shrug? A big problem with the growth before the downturn in 2007 was that it benefited so few people (especially a problem in the US). Median real incomes and unemployment levels tell you a lot more. (There is an interesting article in todays FT by Richard Lambert on this). And, of course, there is the whole issue of wider wellbeing, which depends on the quality of personal relationships, the environment, and so on.

So, where does that leave any assessment of the current state of the British economy? The first point is that, although GDP numbers may not be as bad as we thought, economic wellbeing is not good for large parts of the population. Pay is not keeping up with prices. It is particularly hard for those with public sector jobs or dependent on benefits. A little bit of confidence is returning, and this will be good if, and only if, it leads businesses to invest more. If ordinary people simply decide to save less, and spend more, we will get a short-term lift to economic wellbeing, but it will not be sustainable.

Well, that is my personal view. Optimists, like the Observer commentator William Keegan, who also writes an article in Economia, think that there is a lot of spare capacity in the economy (people who are underemployed, for example, and working part time) so that any lift in demand will be self-sustaining, and that it doesn’t matter where it comes from – his preferred choice being from government, by cutting VAT and slowing down government cuts. Once this capacity is being used, we will be in a better position to reduce the size of government, if that is what is needed to make the economy sustainable in the long term. You hear a lot of this sort of view from professional economists, even very distinguished ones. To such an extent, indeed, that austerity policies are described as “discredited” by many, on the grounds that they have not delivered the steady GDP growth that these economists say is feasible.

Supporters of austerity are gloomier about the longer term economic outlook. The spare capacity highlighted by Mr Keegan and his friends is illusory: it is mainly in the wrong places. The economy before the crisis was unsustainable: too dependent on borrowing and a trade deficit. Furthermore, there are huge headwinds, in particular from an aging population and a workforce that will shrink (though Britain is not as badly off in this respect as many other economies, thanks in large part to a more liberal view of immigration, which politicians now regret). The economy has to be rebalanced and made more efficient: that means destroying a lot of the less efficient jobs, and creating new ones elsewhere. The wrong sort of economic growth will slow this down and simply create a bigger crisis later. There is no alternative to a slow and painful path of adjustment.

It is an old argument, with resonances of that between Keynes and the Treasury in the 1930s. Keynes is usually held to have been right then: the main problem was lack of demand, and it just needed to be kicked into place by government action. Many economists use this as evidence that we should repeat that prescription this time. But the world was a very different place then; there is no equivalent of the incipient manufacturing revolution to sustain growth now.

And this seems to be the biggest cost to an obsession with GDP. It gives economists the illusion that the issues are much the same, regardless of what is happening in the real economy. It is only when you try to get behind the numbers and ask searching questions, that you can start to understand the real policy options. Today’s figures will tell us very little.

The pensions blind spot

“All in it together? MPs WILL get a payrise worth up to 12%” thunders this morning’s Independent newspaper. While I’m not a big fan of our MPs, this headline has persuaded me that they deserve the payrise that apparently will be proposed by the independent body given the task of setting their pay. If even a supposedly more mature and considered newspaper like the Independent indulges in this kind of vindictive, misleading headlining, then something is clearly wrong.

This headline is revealing about how information is communicated in our society. First of all, no formal announcement has actually been made. The headline is based on a leak, which only reveals a partial picture. And yet by the time the full news is released, it will be old news. Speed trumps accuracy in the world of news media. The 12% figure is also misleading. It compares the proposed salary to be implemented in two years’ time to the current one. 9% is a more accurate number, and indeed this is what other organisations are reporting. Such considerations do not weigh heavily with headline writers.

But there is a further distortion. Apparently the proposal will be to reduce MPs’ pension entitlements at the same time – though the details don’t seem to have been leaked. So the total package will not be as generous as the headline writers make it sound. But here the journalists seem to be at one with the general public: treating pension entitlements as being of little real value, and failing to realise the implications of changes to it. Over the past couple of decades companies have been squeezing their employees’ pension plans hard, so that overall pension provision is now pretty meagre, when it used to be generous. This has barely reached the popular consciousness. Only public sector trade unionists have grasped that this is an fact a steady reduction in what people are paid.

There are in fact sound economic reasons for changes to pension arrangements. The proportion of pensioners to the working population is rising, and this makes pensions less affordable. Unfortunately high rates of pension saving don’t help change this dynamic much: this is one of those things that may work for individuals, but not for society as a whole. Pensions have to become less generous overall, and the collapse of private sector occupational pension plans is just part of that process.

But there is a big problem at the heart of it. Employers are in headlong retreat from pension provision, but individuals are not stepping forward into the breach to save more into personal pension plans. Even where they do, and they are being “nudged” into doing so by opt-out pension schemes, the amount being saved will go nowhere near providing for the scale of pensions the previous generation had been entitled to. This is sometimes offered as an example of irrational economic behaviour. But it isn’t. The transaction costs of saving weigh heavily on all but the very rich, and investment returns are dismal – even without the current regime of very low interest rates. Personal saving is a very inefficient way of delivering a pension for the majority.

It is better if the state steps in. A state-managed pay as you go scheme has comparatively low transaction costs, as well as reducing the risk to individual savers. Reforming the state pension is one of the more impressive achievements of the current Coalition government. It has been led by Lib Dem pensions minister Steve Webb, but it has not been politically contentious – the Conservatives deserve credit for letting him get on with the job – and Labour have not got in the way. Previous governments have changed their pensions ministers every year or so before any reform effort could get going. The focus has been on establishing a good basic pension to which everybody is entitled, which people can then top up through personal savings. Previous state schemes have tried to concentrate entitlement on the most needy, destroying the incentive to save, or to create complex entitlements based on income and contributions, which few understand because of the need not avoid double counting with subsidised private savings.

But the cost of this pension commitment will grow, and this is causing many sage heads to worry. Personally, I think we have to grin and bear it. If it looks as if it will run ahead of the ability to raise taxes, then we have to push the age entitlement back. But this is one of the critical strategic issues that our political leaders must grasp as our demography changes. Paying for the NHS is another.

These are weighty and important matters, which deserve much more attention than they get. They are much more important in the scheme of things than how much our MPs are paid. The country needs more MPs like Steve Webb, with both the intellectual and political skills to push forward difficult reforms like the one on pensions. We have a long way to go on that score.