in the time of coronavirus

Today’s Inflation Won’t be Solved by the Fed

(This post originally ran as an opinion piece in Barron’s.)

The U.S. today is experiencing inflation. This is not controversial. But what exactly does it mean?

In the textbook, inflation is a rise in all prices together, caused by an excessive increase in the money supply. But when we measure it, inflation is just a rise in the average price of goods and services. That average might reflect a uniform rise in prices due to excessive money creation. Or, as today, it might instead be the result of big rises in the prices of a few items, for their own reasons.

Over the past year, prices have risen by 7.5%, far above the usual 2% target set by the Federal Reserve. But 70% of that 5.5 points of excess inflation has come from two categories that make up just 15% of the consumption basket: energy (2 points) and new and used cars (1.9 points). Used cars alone make up barely 4% of the consumption basket, but accounted for a third of the excess inflation.

Some commentators have argued that inflation is just a matter of too much money. If that were true, it’s hard to see why so much of it would be flowing to cars. (And before you say cheap financing: Rates on auto loans were lower through most of the 2010s.)

In recent months, vehicle and energy prices have begun to stabilize, while food and housing prices have picked up. These price increases hit family budgets harder. A car purchase can usually be put off, but not rent or groceries. But this is still a story about specific sectors following their own dynamics.

Energy prices are global, and their periodic rise and fall depends mostly on the politics of oil-producing regions (as we are being reminded today). As recently as the summer of 2014, gas prices were higher than they are now, before falling precipitously. No doubt they will fall again, but in the short run there is not much to do about them—though it may be possible to shield people from their impact. In the longer run, decarbonization will leave us less vulnerable to the gyrations of the oil market.

As for vehicles, it’s no mystery why prices soared. Early in the pandemic, automakers expected a long period of depressed demand, and cut back production plans. When the economy bounced back rapidly, automakers found themselves short of key inputs, especially semiconductors. Combine this with a pandemic-induced shift in demand from services to goods, and you have a formula for rapid price increases. The effect was strongest for used cars, whose supply is essentially fixed in the short run.

Housing has made a smaller contribution so far—0.6 of the 5.5 points of excess inflation—but given the way the Bureau of Labor Statistics measures them, housing prices are likely to rise sharply over the coming year. This is a problem. But, it was also a big problem before the pandemic, when rents were rising by nearly 4% annually. Housing affordability is a serious issue in the U.S. But if the question is why inflation is higher today than in 2018 or 2019, housing is not the answer.

Finally, there are food prices, which have contributed about 0.7 points to excess inflation over the past year, and more in recent months. Food prices, like energy prices, are famously volatile; there’s a reason they are both excluded from the Fed’s measure of “core” inflation. They’re also an area where market power may be playing a major role, given the high concentration in food processing. Monopolies may be reluctant to fully exploit their power in normal times; price increases elsewhere in the economy give them a chance to widen their margins.

The great majority of the excess inflation over the past year has come from these four areas. Other sectors—including labor-intensive services where prices have historically risen more quickly—have contributed little or nothing.

The point is not that these price increases don’t matter. Food, housing and energy are necessities of life. People are naturally unhappy when they have to pay more for them. The point is that current price rises are not symptoms of economy-wide overheating.

Some of these prices, like autos, will come back down on their own as supply-chain kinks work themselves out. Others, like housing, will not, and call for a policy response. But that response is not raising interest rates, which would only make the problem worse. The main reason why housing costs are rising is that the U.S. does not build enough of it, especially in the expensive metro areas where employment opportunities are concentrated. Construction is one of the most interest-sensitive sectors of the economy. Rate hikes will cause supply to fall further short of demand.

Some might say that the Fed still controls the overall level of spending in the economy. If people spent less on used cars, wouldn’t they spend more on something else? This ignores the existence of balance sheets. Households hold cash, and finance many purchases—including cars—with debt. Lower used-car prices wouldn’t mean higher prices elsewhere, but higher household savings and less debt.

An inability to build housing where people want to live, dependence on fossil fuels, fragile supply chains and the monopolization of key industries: These are all serious economic problems. But they are not monetary-policy problems. Looking at them through the lens of a textbook story of inflation will not get us any closer to solving them.

“Inflation is bad. But mass unemployment would have been worse.”

(Lauren Melodia and I had an op-ed in the Nov. 21 Washington Post, challenging the idea that today’s inflation means that the stimulus measures of the past year and half were too large. I’m posting it here as well.)

As we think about rising prices today, it’s important not to lose sight of where we were not so long ago. In the spring of 2020, much of the economy abruptly shut down. Schools and child-care centers closed. Air travel fell below 100,000 people a day, compared with 2.5 million daily passengers in a normal year. No one was staying in hotels or going to the gym. About 1.4 million small businesses shut their doors in the second quarter of the year.

More than 20 million Americans lost their jobs in the early days of the pandemic, and there was a very real possibility that many would face hunger, eviction and poverty. Many economists predicted a deep downturn comparable to the Great Recession that followed the financial crisis of 2007-08, if not the Great Depression of the 1930s.

Even at the start of this year, as Congress was debating the American Rescue Plan, it was far from clear that we were out of danger. In January, there were 10 million fewer jobs than a year earlier. Covid-related deaths were running at 30,000 per week — the highest rate at any point in the pandemic. No one knew how fast vaccines could be rolled out. There was still a real risk that the economy could tip into depression.

Thanks to stimulus measures, including the $2.2 trillion Cares Act, signed by President Donald Trump in March 2020, and the $1.9 trillion American Rescue Plan, signed by President Biden in March 2021, that didn’t happen. People who lost their jobs in restaurants, airports, hotels and elsewhere continued to pay their rent and put food on the table.

For much of 2020 and 2021, all the uncertainty — and the risks associated with vacationing, dining out and so on — meant households held back on spending, and savings piled up. Now, with the economy reopening and the worst of the pandemic (let’s hope) behind us, people are rushing to make use of those savings. Unfortunately, businesses can’t adjust production as fast as people can spend money, resulting in the inflation we’re seeing now: Prices rose 0.9 percent from September to October 2021 and are up 6.2 percent since October 2020.

It would be nice if there were a way to avoid economic catastrophe during the year-plus of pandemic restrictions while also avoiding rising prices today. But in the real world, there probably wasn’t. The pandemic imposed costs on the economy that had to be paid one way or another.

Think of it this way. When a restaurant shuts down for public health reasons, two things happen: Its services are not available for purchase, and the people who work there lose their incomes. If the government does nothing, aggregate demand and supply will remain in rough balance, but the displaced workers will be unable to pay their bills. Alternatively, the government can step in to maintain the incomes of the displaced workers. In this case, the spending that consumers might have done in restaurants will spill over into the rest of the economy — if not right away, then eventually. In a sense, the rising costs we’re seeing today are a result of economic production that didn’t happen last year.

In economics textbooks, the level of demand that brings the economy to full employment will also cause stable inflation — an assumption labeled “the divine coincidence.” But here on Earth, things don’t always work out so neatly. The level of spending required to replace incomes lost in the pandemic, combined with the disruptions to production and trade, meant there was no way to get an adequate recovery without some increase in inflation, especially given the bumps on the road to controlling the coronavirus. As the spread of the delta variant and some Americans’ resistance to getting a vaccine have held back spending on services, demand has spilled over into goods. And as it turns out, our global supply chains are unable to handle a rapid rise in demand for goods — especially because many manufacturers had expected a deep downturn and planned accordingly.

Today’s inflation has surprised many people, including us. We had been more worried about sustained high unemployment. One of us even gave a talk a year ago called “The Coronavirus Recession Is Just Beginning.” We were wrong about that. But then, so was almost everyone. In the summer of 2020, the Congressional Budget Office was predicting that the unemployment rate in late 2021 would be 8 percent; in fact, it has fallen to 4.6 percent. Many private forecasters were similarly gloomy. Under the circumstances, policymakers were absolutely right to prioritize payments to families.

The economist Larry Summers has been making the case since February that the government’s stimulus programs were larger than required and ran the risk of “inflationary pressures of a kind we have not seen in a generation.” Fiscal conservatives are claiming that Summers has been vindicated because inflation is higher than most supporters of the most recent relief package expected. But the economic data doesn’t match the scenario he described.

Summers predicted that the cumulative stimulus impact would be larger than the country’s output gap — the difference between actual and potential gross domestic product. Today, despite the stimulus, both real and nominal GDP remain significantly below the pre-pandemic trend. So unless you think the economy was operating above potential before the pandemic, there’s no reason to think it is above potential now. To the extent that domestic conditions are contributing to inflation, it’s not because spending has surpassed the economy’s capacity but because there has been a rapid shift in demand from services to goods.

In any case, most of the inflation we’re seeing is due not to domestic conditions but to the worldwide spike in food, energy and shipping costs. Perhaps we could have had inflation of 5 percent instead of 6 percent if the stimulus had been smaller. The cost of that trade-off would have been material hardship for millions of families and the risk of tipping the economy into a downturn. And that, fundamentally, is why today’s inflation is not a sign that the stimulus was too large: It has to be weighed against the risks on the other side.

After 2007, the United States experienced many years of high unemployment and depressed growth, thanks in large part to a stimulus that most now agree was too small. Policymakers belatedly learned that lesson, and as a result, the United States is making a rapid recovery from the most severe economic disruption in modern history. Yes, inflation is a real problem that needs to be addressed. In a recent Roosevelt Institute brief, we suggested that rather than raise interest rates, the best way to control inflation is to address supply constraints in the sectors where prices are climbing. But as bad as inflation is, mass unemployment is much worse. Given the alternatives, policymakers made the right choice.

“Earnings Shocks and Stabilization During COVID-19”

The other day, I put up a post arguing, on the basis of my analysis of the income data in the Current Population Survey, that the economic disruptions from the pandemic had not led to any reduction in real income for the lowest-income families. This is the opposite of the Great Recession, and presumably earlier recessions, where the biggest income losses were at the bottom. The difference, I suggested, was the much stronger fiscal response this time compared with previous downturns.

My numbers were rough — tho I think informative — estimates based on a data set that is mainly intended for other purposes. Today I want to call attention to an important paper that reaches similar conclusions on the basis of far better data.

The paper is “Earnings Shocks and Stabilization During COVID-19” by Jeff Larrimore, Jacob Mortenson and David Splinter.¹ If you’re following these debates, it’s a must-read.

The question they ask is slightly different from the one I did. Rather than look at the average change in income at each point in the distribution, they ask what fraction of workers experienced large declines in their incomes. Specifically they ask, for each point at the distribution of earnings in a given year, what fraction of workers had earnings at least 10 percent lower a year later? They include people whose earnings were zero in the second year (which means the results are not distorted by compositional effects), and do the exercise both with and without unemployment insurance and — for the most recent period — stimulus payments. They use individual tax records from the IRS, which means their sample is much larger and their data much more accurate than the usual survey-based sources.

What they find, first of all, is that earnings are quite volatile — more than 25 percent of workers experience a fall in earnings of 10 percent or more in a typical year, with a similar share experiencing a 10 percent or more increase. Looking at earnings alone, the fraction of workers experiencing large falls in income rose to about 30 percent in both 2009 and 2020; the fraction experiencing large increases fell somewhat in 2009, but not in 2019. See their Figure 1 below.

Turning to distribution, if we look at earnings alone, large falls were more concentrated at the bottom in 2020 than in 2009. This is shown in their Figure 2. (Note that while the percentiles are based on earnings plus UI benefits, the vertical axis shows the share with large falls in earnings alone.) This pattern is consistent with the concentration of pandemic-related job losses in low-wage sectors.

But when you add unemployment insurance in, the picture reverses. Now, across almost the whole lower half of the distribution, large falls in earnings were actually less common in 2020 than in 2019. And when you add in stimulus payments, it’s even more dramatic. Households in the bottom 20 percent of the distribution were barely half as likely to experience a larger fall in income in the crisis year of 2020 as in they were in the normal year of 2019.

The key results are summarized in their Table 1, below. It’s true that the proportion of low-wage households that experienced large falls in earnings during 2020 was greater than the proportion of high-wage households. But that’s true in every year — low incomes are just much more volatile than high ones. What’s different is how much the gap closed. Even counting the stimulus payments, households in the top fifth of earnings were somewhat more likely to experience a large fall in earnings in 2020 than in 2019. But in the bottom fifth, the share experiencing large falls in income fell from 43 percent to 27 percent. Nothing like this happened in 2009 — then, the frequency of large falls in income rose by the same amount (about 6 points) across the distribution.

One thing this exercise confirms is that the more favorable experience low-income households in the pandemic downturn was entirely due to much stronger income-support programs. Earnings themselves fell even more disproportionately at the bottom than in the last recession. In the absence of the CARES Act, income inequality would have widened sharply rather than narrowed.

The one significant limitation of this study is that tax data is only released well after the end of the year it covers. So at this point, it can only tell us what happened in 2020, not in 2021. It’s hard to guess if this pattern will continue in 2021. (It might make a difference whether the child tax credit payments are counted.) But whether or not it does, doesn’t affect the results for 2020.

While the US experienced the most rapid fall in economic activity in history, low-wage workers experienced much less instability in their incomes than in a “good” year. This seems like a very important fact to me, one that should be getting much more attention than it is.

It didn’t have to turnout that way. In most economic crises, it very much doesn’t. People who are saying that the economy is over stimulated are implicitly saying that protecting low-wage workers from the crisis was a mistake. When the restaurant workers should have been left to fend for themselves. That way, they wouldn’t have any savings now and wouldn’t be buying so much stuff. When production is severely curtailed, it’s impossible to maintain people’s incomes without creating excess demand somewhere else. But that’s a topic for another post.

The point I want to make — and this is me speaking here, not the authors of the paper — is that the protection that working people enjoyed from big falls in income in 2020 should be the new benchmark for social insurance. Because the other thing that comes out clearly from these numbers is the utter inadequacy of the pre-pandemic safety net. In 2019, only 9 percent of workers with large falls in earnings received UI benefits, and among those who did, the typical benefit was less than a third of their previous earnings. You can see the result of this in the table — for 2009 and 2019, the fraction of each group experiencing large falls in earnings hardly changes when UI is included. Before 2020, there was essentially no insurance against large falls in earnings.

To be sure, the tax data doesn’t tell us how many of those with big falls in earnings lost their jobs and how many voluntarily quit. But the fact that someone leaves their job voluntarily doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be protected from the loss of income. Social Security is, in a sense, a form of (much more robust) unemployment insurance for a major category of voluntary quits. The paid family and medical leave that, it seems, will not be in this year’s reconciliation bill but that Democrats still hope to pass, is another.

Back in the spring, people like Jason Furman were arguing that if we had a strong recovery in the labor market then we would no longer need the $400/week pandemic unemployment assistance. But this implicitly assumes that we didn’t need something like PUA already in 2019.

I’d like to hear Jason, or anyone, make a positive argument that before the pandemic, US workers enjoyed the right level of protection against job loss. In a good year in the US economy, 40 percent of low-wage workers experience a fall in earnings of 10 percent or more. Is that the right number? Is that getting us the socially optimal number of evictions and kids going to bed hungry? Is that what policy should be trying to get us back to? I’d like to hear why.

A C-Shaped Recovery?

The coronavirus crisis has been different from normal recessions in many ways, but one of the most important is the scale of the macroeconomic response to it.

Thanks to the stimulus payments, the pandemic unemployment insurance, the child tax credit, and a raft of other income support measures, this is the first recession in history in which household income actually rose rather than fell, and households ended up in a stronger financial position than before — with bankruptcies, for instance, running at half their pre-pandemic rates. It’s this that’s allowed spending to come back so quickly as the pandemic recedes. It wasn’t written in stone that the economic problem at the end of 2021 would be labor “shortages” and inflation, rather than double-digit unemployment and mass immiseration. The rising wave of hunger, homelessness and bankruptcies that people feared at the start of the pandemic hasn’t shown up. But that doesn’t mean that it couldn’t have. Without the stimulus measures of the past year and a half, it most likely would have.

This extraordinary success story is the missing context for today’s macroeconomic debates. It’s somehow becoming conventional wisdom that the economy is “overstimulated,” as if the economic disruptions of the pandemic could have been managed some other way. As Claudia Sahm observed last week, the choice facing policymakerswas either to repeat the mistakes of the Great Recession or to go big. Fortunately, they went big.

The aggregate dimension of this story is familiar, even it’s sometimes forgotten these days. But I’ve seen much less discussion of the distributional side. Disposable income has held up overall, but what about for people at different income ranges?

For detailed statistics on this, we will have to wait for the American Community Survey produced by the Census. The ACS comes out annually; the first data from 2020 will be released in a month or so, and 2021 numbers will take another year. For real-time data we depend on the Current Population Survey, from the Bureau of Labor Statistics. This is the source for all the headline numbers on unemployment, wages and so on.

The CPS is mainly focused on labor-market outcomes, but it does have one question about income: “What was the total combined income of all members of your family over the past 12 months?”¹ The answer is given as one of 15 ranges, topping out at $150,000 or higher.

Compared with what we get from the ACS (or other more specialized surveys like the Survey of Consumer Finances or the Survey of Income and Program Participation) that’s not very much information. But it’s enough to get the big picture, and it has the major advantage of being available in close to real time.

I have not seen anyone use the CPS to look at how real (inflation-adjusted) income changed across the distribution during the pandemic, compared with in the previous recession. So I decided to look at it myself. The results are shown in the figure nearby.

What I’ve done here is construct a household income measure by distributing households evenly within their buckets. Then I adjusted that income for inflation using the CPI. Then I compared family income at each point in the distribution in September 2021 — the most recent available — with September 2019, and then did the same thing for September 2009 and September 2007. I used the CPI for the inflation adjustment because the PCE index isn’t available yet for September.² Using two-year periods ending in September seemed like the best way to make an apples-to-apples comparison and avoid seasonal effects.³ The idea is to see what happened to income across the distribution during the pandemic as compared to a similar time period during the Great Recession.

What you see here, for instance, is that a household at the 10th percentile — that is, whose income was higher than 10 percent of households and lower than 90 percent — had an income 4 percent higher in September 2021 than in September 2019. Over the 2007-2009 period, by contrast, real income at the 10th percentile fell by 8 percent. Real income the 80th percentile, on the other hand, fell by about 3 percent in both periods.⁴

As the figure makes clear, the difference between this recession and the previous one is not not just that disposable income fell last time but has been stable this time. The two crises saw very different patterns across income levels. The overall stability of personal income over the past two years is the result of substantial gains at the bottom combined with modest falls in the upper two-thirds. Whereas the fall in aggregate income during the Great Recession — as in most recessions — combines a much larger fall at the bottom with relative stability at the top.

This seems to me like a very important and very under-appreciated fact about the past two years. This is not just the first recession in which household income didn’t fall. It’s the first recession — in modern times, if not ever — that hit higher income families harder than low-income ones. So far, it looks less like a K-shaped recovery than a C-shaped one.

Let’s look at it another way. Between December 2007 and December 2009 — the period of the Great Recession — the share of households who reported a total income under $30,000 rose from 26.3 percent to 28.6 percent. Incomes rose over the next decade, so that by December 2019, a similar roughly one-quarter share of households reported total income of under $35,000. But over the next two years, this share fell by almost two points, from 25.7 to 23.9 percent. The fraction reporting incomes under $30,000 fell from 20.5 to 18.8 percent, while the fraction reporting incomes under $20,000 fell from 16.3 percent to 14.6 percent. This suggests a substantial decline in the number of families facing serious material hardship.

You might say: But real income did fall across most of the distribution. That is true.⁵ But think about it: We have just lived through a pandemic that, among other things, caused the most rapid fall in economic activity in US history. 20 million jobs disappeared overnight, and millions of them still have not come back. Of course income fell! What’s surprising is that it didn’t fall by more — that the short-term disruption was followed by a rapid bounce back rather than the long jobless recovery we’ve had after previous crises. What’s also a departure from previous downturns is whose incomes fell and whose didn’t.

Because the CPS income data is top-coded at $150,000 — about 15% of US households are above this — and the bucket below that is quite wide, the CPS isn’t informative about income at the top end. That’s why the figures cut off at the 80th percentile. I don’t see any obvious reason why high-income families should have had very different experiences in the two recessions, but we will have to wait for other data to be released to find out for sure.

There are certainly problems with measuring income with a single question. It’s not always clear what households are counting as income, especially at the low end where transfers make up a higher portion of the total. But it’s the same question in all four years. I find it hard to believe that the contrasting shifts in the numbers don’t reflect a genuine difference in the experience of low-income families over the two periods.

After all, this is consistent with what we know from other sources. Wage gains have been stronger at the bottom than at the top, by a growing margin. In the Household Pulse survey that the Census has been conducting regularly since the start of the pandemic, the dog that didn’t bark is the lack of any increase in most measures of material deprivation. In the most recent survey, for example, 9 percent of families reported that in the past week, they sometimes or often didn’t have enough to eat. That’s a shockingly high number — but it is a somewhat lower number than in April 2020. And of course, what’s all the talk about labor shortages but complaints — sometimes in so many words — that people no longer feel they have to accept underpaid drudge work out of sheer desperation?

Maintaining or improving access to necessities for the most vulnerable through an economic catastrophe is a major accomplishment. Yet what’s striking about the current moment is how little anyone is taking credit for it.

Of course there are reasons why the focus is where it is. It’s easier to talk about the problems we are actually facing than the much worse crisis we didn’t have. (There ought to be a name for the fallacy where a timely response to head off some danger is retroactively treated as a sign there was no danger in the first place.) Conservatives obviously don’t want to acknowledge the success of a massive public spending program, especially when Democrats are in office (and don’t necessarily approve of making poor people less poor in the first place.) Progressives are more comfortable criticizing bailouts than celebrating economic success stories. (And of course there is plenty to criticize.) And with the Build Back Better agenda on the line, one might worry that talking about how the measures of the past year and a half have raised up the bottom will feed a dangerous complacency, a sense that we’ve done enough already.

As it happens, I’m not sure that last worry is justified. Back when I did political work, one of things that came though most clearly talking to organizers, and to people at doors myself, is that for most people the biggest obstacle to political engagement isn’t satisfaction with the way things are, but doubt that collective action can change them. Most people,I think, are quite aware that, as we used to say, “Shit is fucked up and bullshit.” What they lack is a sense of the connection of politics and policy with the concrete problems they face. Even among political professionals, I suspect, doubt that things can be very different is often a more powerful conservative force than a positive attachment to things as they are. Remembering how policymakers made the choice go big during the pandemic might, then, strengthen, rather than undermine, the case for going big today.

Be that as it may, if it is in fact the case that during a period when unemployment spiked to 15 percent, incomes at the bottom end actually rose, that seems like an important fact about the world that someone ought to be talking about.

UPDATE:

Some people have asked whether the apparent rise in incomes at the bottom might be due to changes in family size — maybe more people moved in together and pooled their income during the pandemic? To address that, here’s another version of the figure, this one showing the change in real income divided by household size.

As it turns out, average household size actually shrank slightly over 2019-2021. This was not the case in 2007-2009, so adjusting for household size makes the recent performance look a bit better relative to the previous one. But as you can see, the broad picture is essentially the same.

A Few Followup Links

The previous post got quite a bit of attention — more, I think, than anything I’ve written on this blog in the dozen years I’ve been doing it.

I would like to do a followup post replying to some of the comments and criticisms, but I haven’t had time and realistically may not any time soon, or ever. In the meantime, though, here is some existing content that might be relevant to people who would like to see the arguments in that post drawn out more fully.

Here is a podcast interview I did with some folks from Current Affairs a month or so ago. The ostensible topic is Modern Mone(tar)y Theory, but the conversation gave me space to talk more broadly about how to think about macroeconomic questions.

A pair of Roosevelt reports (cowritten with Andrew Bossie) on economic policy during World War II are an effort to find relevant lessons for the present moment: The Public Role in Economic Transformation: Lessons from World War II, Public Spending as an Engine of Growth and Equality: Lessons from World War II

Here is a piece I wrote a couple years ago on Macroeconomic Lessons from the Past Decade. Bidenomics could be seen as a sort of deferred learning of the lessons from the Great Recession. So even though this was written before the pandemic and the election, there’s a lot of overlap here.

This report from Roosevelt, What Recovery? is an earlier stab at learning those lessons. I hope to be revisiting a lot of the topics here (and doing a better job with them, hopefully) in a new Roosevelt report that should be out in a couple of months.

If you like podcast interviews, here’s one I did with David Beckworth of Macro Musings following the What Recovery report, where we talked quite a bit about hysteresis and the limits of monetary policy, among other topics.

And here are some relevant previous past posts on this blog:

In The American Prospect: The Collapse of Austerity Economics

A Baker’s Dozen of Reasons Not to Worry about Government Debt

Good News on the Economy, Bad News on Economic Policy

A Demystifying Decade for Economics

A Harrodian Perspective on Secular Stagnation

Secular Stagnation, Progress in Economics

The Coronavirus Recession Is Just Beginning

(A couple days ago I gave a talk — virtually, of course — to a group of activists about the state of the economy. This is an edied and somewha expanded version of what I said.)

The US economy has officially been in recession since February. But what we’ve seen so far looks very different from the kind of recessions we’re used to, both because of the unique nature of the coronavirus shock and because of the government response to it. In some ways, the real recession is only beginning now. And if federal stimulus is not restored, it’s likely to be a very deep and prolonged one.

In a normal recession, the fundamental problem is an interruption in the flow of money through the economy. People or businesses reduce their spending for whatever reason. But since your spending is someone else’s income, lower spending here reduces incomes and employment over there — this is what we call a fall in aggregate demand. Businesses that sell less need fewer workers and generate less profits for their owners. That lost income causes other people to reduce their spending, which reduces income even more, and so on.

Now, a small reduction in spending may not have any lasting effects — people and businesses have financial cushions, so they won’t have to cut spending the instant their income falls, especially if they expect the fall in income to be temporary. So if there’s just a small fall in demand, the economy can return to its old growth path quickly. But if the fall in spending is big enough to cause many workers and businesses to cut back their own spending, then it can perpetuate itself and grow larger instead of dying out. This downward spiral is what we call a recession. Usually it’s amplified by the financial system, as people who lose income can’t pay their debts, which makes banks less willing or able to lend, which forces people and businesses that needed to borrow to cut back on their spending. New housing and business investment in particular are very dependent on borrowed money, so they can fall steeply if loans become less available. That creates another spiral on top of the first. Or in recent recessions, often it’s the financial problems that come first.

But none of that is what happened in this case. Businesses didn’t close because there wasn’t enough money flowing through the economy, or because they couldn’t get loans. They closed because under conditions of pandemic and lockdown they couldn’t do specific things — serve food, offer live entertainment, etc. And to a surprising extent, the stimulus and unemployment benefits meant that people who stopped working did not lose income. So you could imagine that once the pandemic was controlled, we could return to normal much quicker than in a normal recession.

That was the situation as recently as August.

The problem is that much of the federal spending dried up at the end of July. And that is shifting the economy from a temporary lockdown toward a self-perpetuating fall in incomes and employment.

One way we see the difference between the lockdown and a recession is the industries affected. The biggest falls in employment were in entertainment and recreation and food service, which are industries that normally weather downturns pretty well, while construction and manufacturing, normally the most cyclical industries, have been largely unaffected. Meanwhile, employment in health and education, which in previous recessions has not fallen at all, this time has declined quite a bit.¹

If we look at employment, for instance which is normally our best measure of business-cycle conditions, we again see something very different from past recessions. Total employment fell by 20 million in April and May of this year. In just two months, 15 percent of American workers lost their jobs. There’s nothing remotely comparable historically — more jobs were lost in the Depression, but that was a slow process over years not just two months. The post-World War II demobilization was the closest, but that only involved about half the fall in employment. So this is a job loss without precedent.

Since May, about half of those 20 million people have gone back to work. We’re about 10 million jobs down from a year ago. Still, that might look like a fairly strong recovery.

But in the spring, the vast majority of unemployed people described themselves as on temporary layoff — they expected to go back to their jobs. The recovery in employment has almost all come from that group. If we look at people who say they have lost their jobs permanently, that number has continued to grow. Back in May, almost 90 percent of the people out of work described it as temporary. Today, it’s less than half. Business closings and layoffs that were expected to be temporary in the spring are now becoming permanent. So in a certain sense, even though unemployment is officially much lower than it was a few months ago, unemployment as we usually think of it is still rising.

We can see this even more dramatically if we look at income. Most people don’t realize how large and effective the stimulus and pandemic unemployment insurance programs were. Back in the spring, most people — me included — thought there was no way the federal government would spend on the scale required to offset the hob losses. The history of stimulus in this country — definitely including the ARRA under Obama — has always been too little, too late. Unemployment insurance in particular has historically had such tight eligibility requirements that the majority of people who lose their jobs never get it.

But this time, surprisingly, the federal stimulus was actually big enough to fill the hole of lost incomes. The across-the-board $600 per week unemployment benefit reached a large share of people who had lost their jobs, including gig workers and others who would not have been able to get conventional UI. And of course the stimulus checks reached nearly everyone. As a result, if we look at household income, we see that as late as July, it was substantially above pre-recession levels. This is a far more effective response than the US has made to any previous downturn. And it’s nearly certain that the biggest beneficiaries were lower-wage workers.

We can see the effects of this in the Household Pulse surveys conducted by the Census. Every week since Mach, they’ve been asking a sample of households questions about their economic situation, including whether they have enough money to meet their basic needs. And the remarkable thing is that over that period, there has been no increase in the number of people who say they can’t pay their rent or their mortgage or can’t get enough to eat. About 9 percent of families said they sometimes or often couldn’t afford enough to eat, and about 20 percent of renters said they were unable to pay the last month’s rent in full. Those numbers are shockingly high. But they are no higher than they were before the pandemic.

To be clear – there are millions of people facing serious deprivation in this country, far more than in other rich countries. But this is a longstanding fact about the United States. It doesn’t seem to be any worse than it was a year ago. And given the scale of the job loss, that is powerful testimony to how effective the stimulus has been.

But the stimulus checks were one-off, and the pandemic unemployment insurance expired at end of July. Fortunately there are other federal unemployment supplements, but they are nowhere as generous. So we are now seeing the steep fall in income that we did not see in the first five months of the crisis.

That means we may now be about to see the deep recession that we did not really get in the spring and summer. And history suggests that recovery from that will be much slower. If we look at the last downturn, it took five full years after the official end of the recession for employment to just get back to its pre-recession level. And in many ways, the economy had still not fully recovered when the pandemic hit.

One thing we may not see, though, is a financial crisis. The Fed is in some ways one of the few parts of our macroeconomic policy apparatus that works well, and it’s become even more creative and aggressive as a result of the last crisis. In the spring, people were talking about a collapse in credit, businesses unable to get loans, people unable to borrow. But this really has not happened. And there’s good reason to think that the Fed has all the tools they need if a credit crunch did develop, if some financial institutions to end up in distress. Even if we look at state and local governments, where austerity is already starting and is going to be a big part of what makes this recession severe, all the evidence is that they aren’t willing to borrow, not that they can’t borrow.

Similarly with the stock market — people think it’s strange that it’s doing well, that it’s delinked from the real economy, or that it’s somehow an artificial result of Fed intervention. To be clear, there’s no question that low interest rates are good for stock prices, but that’s not artificial — there’s no such thing as a natural interest rate.

More to the point, by and large, stocks are doing well because profits are doing well. Stock market indexes dominated by a small number of large companies, and many of those have seen sales hold up or grow. Again, so far we haven’t seen a big fall in total income. So businesses in general are not losing sales. What we have seen is a division of businesses into winners and losers. The businesses most affected by the pandemic have seen big losses of sales and profits and their share prices have gone down. But the businesses that can continue to operate have done well. So there’s nothing mysterious in the fact that Amazon’s stock price, for instance, has risen, and there’s no reason to think it’s going to fall. If you look at specific stocks, you see that by and large the ones that are doing well, the underlying business is doing well.

This doesn’t mean that what’s good for the stock market is good for ordinary workers. But again, that’s always been true. Shareholders don’t care about workers, they only care about the flow of profits their shares entitle them to. And if you’re a shareholder in a company that makes most of its sales online, that flow of profits is looking reasonably healthy right now.

So going forward, I think the critical question is whether we see any kind of renewed stimulus. If we do, it’s still possible that the downward income-expenditure spiral can be halted. At some point soon that will be much harder.

Endless austerity, state and local edition

Brian Nichols of the essential Employ America has a useful, if depressing, roundup of the coming wave of state-local austerity. Some highlights: Ohio, Nevada and Pennsylvania have already announced hiring freezes; Ohio is also looking at a 20 percent across the board cut in state spending, while Virginia has canceled planned raises for teachers. Many cities, including New York, St. Paul and New Orleans, are laying off public employees. And as I noted in my last post, New York State is planning to slash $400 million from the hospitals at the front line of the crisis.

This isn’t new. One of the many drawbacks of American federalism is that state and local government spending — which includes the great majority of public sevices that people use on a day to day basis — is distinctly procyclical. Following the 2007-008 crisis, austerity at the state and local level more than offset stimulus at the federal level. And it lasted much longer than the recession itself.

In fact, as my colleague Amanda Page-Hoongrajok points out, inflation-adjusted state and local final expenditure did not return to its 2009 level until 2019.¹ On a per-capita basis, real state and local final expenditure is 5 percent lower today than it was at the bottom of the last recession.

Source

As we face the rising wave of public-service cutbacks, we need to be fighting on all levels. We need to demand a massive package of aid to state and local govrnments as part of Stimulus IV. We need to be pushing the Fed to do more to support municipal finances. We need to keep the pressure up on mayors and governors not to throw their hands up and wait for the feds, but to be creative in working around their fiscal constraints.² And also, we need to keep in mind: As far as state and local spending is concerned, the Great Recession never ended.

Daily News Op-Ed: Why Is Governor Cuomo Still Trying to Cut Medicaid?

(My Roosevelt colleague Naomi Zewde and I have an op-ed in the March 26 Daily News, criticizing Governor Cuomo’s plans to push ahead with cuts to state Medicaid spending despite the epidemic.)

Last week, as the coronavirus shut down much of New York, the state announced a bold plan to drastically cut funding for the state’s hard-pressed health care providers.

That’s right: As the coronavirus crisis escalates across New York State, Gov. Cuomo is proposing to slash funding for those at the frontlines.

Specifically, the cuts come via the Medicaid Redesign Team, appointed last month by the governor with the charge of cutting $2.5 billion from the state’s annual health spending. These cuts will not only mean an even more overstretched health care system; they will mean lost jobs.

For example, $200 million is slated to be cut from Consumer Directed Personal Assistance (CDPA), which allows elderly or disabled New Yorkers to hire their own home care assistants. As a Daily News editorial recently noted, CDPA was responsible for 36,000 new private-sector jobs in New York City in 2019, a lion’s share of all such jobs.

The biggest savings come from across-the-board cuts to health care providers, including $400 million from the state’s hospitals.

Cutting health spending in an epidemic seems like obvious lunacy. But it’s even worse than it seems.

Since the start of this epidemic, nearly one in five American households have had their hours cut or been laid off due to the virus. In New York, Cuomo said that the state has “never seen such volume” of unemployment claims.

As the economy slides over a cliff, we desperately need to keep people employed so that they can pay their bills and keep local businesses running. The proposed cuts will not only kneecap our health care system, but they will also deepen the coming recession.

But don’t we have to do something about out-of-control Medicaid spending? No, we do not. Medicaid spending is already under control.

Over the past five years, Medicaid spending in New York has risen by a steady 4% a year — exactly the same growth rate the state’s economy has had as a whole. And thanks to the Affordable Care Act, the share of total Medicaid costs paid by the state has gone down.

The apparent Medicaid crisis is entirely of the governor’s own making. When an arbitrary “global cap” on Medicaid spending turned out to be unachievable, instead of accepting reality, the state shifted a portion of the bill from fiscal year 2019-2020 to 2020-2021. This created the illusion of a big rise in this year’s costs.

Not only are there no runaway costs to rein in, but health spending is also an important economic stimulus. About 13% of New Yorkers work in health care — more than in manufacturing and finance combined. New York’s hospitals are stable sources of employment in many communities where good jobs are scarce. While many of the state’s traditional industries are in decline, health care promises to be a growth industry in the 21st century — if its growth isn’t cut off by shortsighted cutbacks.

Cutting state Medicaid spending today would be especially perverse, as the federal government appears poised to pick up a larger share of the program’s spending, just as it did in the last recession.

When private sector spending falls in a recession, the role of government is to lean against the wind, and boost public spending to fill the gap. Fiscal stimulus is primarily the responsibility of the federal government, but a state as large and rich as New York should also do its part — especially if leadership in Washington is lacking.

In normal times, trying to balance the budget through Medicaid cuts would be a mistake. Today, it is economic malpractice.

Talk on the Economic Mobilization of World War II

Two weeks ago – it feels much longer now – I was up at UMass-Amherst to give a talk on the economic mobilizaiton of World War II and its lessons for the Green New Deal.

Here is an audio recording of the talk. Including Q&A, it’s about an hour and a half. Here are the slides that I used.

The big three lessons I draw are:

1. The more rapid the economic transformation that’s required, the bigger the role the public sector needs to take, in investment especially, and more broadly in bearing risk.

2. Output can be very elastic in response to stronger demand, much more so than is usually believed. There’s a real danger that over-conservative estimates of potential output will lead us to set our sights too low.

3. Demand conditions have major effects on income distribution. Full employment is an extremely powerful tool to shift income toward the lower-paid and to less-privelged groups, even in absence of direct redistribution.

EDIT: The underlying paper is being revised to update the lessons for the present in light of the fact that “the present” is now an acute public health crisis rather than an ongoing climate crisis. The first part of the new version is here. The rest will be forthcoming in the next couple weeks.

You can also listen to an interview with me on Doug Henwood’s Behind the News here.