Tag: lost in fiscal space

At Barron’s: With the Debt Ceiling Deal, the Administration Takes a Step Backward

(I write a monthly-ish opinion piece for Barron’s. This is my most recent one. You can find earlier ones here.)  

Since the onset of the pandemic, policy makers in the U.S. and elsewhere have embraced a more active role for government in the economy. The extraordinary scale and success of pandemic relief, the administration’s embrace of the expansive Build Back Better program, and the revived industrial policy of the Inflation Reduction Act and the Chips and Science Act all stand in sharp contrast with the limited-government orthodoxy of the past generation. 

The debt ceiling deal announced this weekend looks like a step back from this new path – albeit a smaller one than many had feared. Supporters of industrial policy and more robust social insurance have reason to be disappointed – especially since the administration, arguably, had more room for maneuver than it was willing to use. 

To be fair, the agreement in part merely anticipates the likely outcome of budget negotiations. Regardless of the debt ceiling, the administration was always going to have to compromise with the House leadership to pass a budget. The difference is that in a normal negotiation, most government spending continues as usual until a deal is reached. Raising the stakes of failure to reach a deal shifts the balance in favor of the side more willing to court disaster. Allowing budget negotiations to get wrapped up with the debt ceiling may have forced the administration to give up more ground than it otherwise would. 

The Biden team’s major nonbudget concession was to accept additional work requirements for some federal benefits. The primary effect of work requirements, with their often onerous administrative burdens, will be to push people off these programs. This might be welcome, if you would prefer that they not exist in their current form at all. But it’s a surprising concession from an administration that, not long ago, was pushing in the other direction. 

In a bigger sense this change directly repudiates one of the main social-policy lessons of recent years. Pandemic income-support programs were an extraordinary demonstration of the value of simple, universal social insurance programs, compared with narrowly targeted ones. The expiration of pandemic unemployment benefits gave us the cleanest test we are ever likely to see of the effect of social insurance and employment. States that ended pandemic benefits early did not see any faster job growth than ones that kept it longer – despite the fact that these programs gave their recipients far stronger incentives against work than those targeted in the budget deal. 

These compromises are all the more disappointing since there were routes around the debt ceiling that the administration, for whatever reason, chose not to explore. The platinum coin got a healthy share of attention. But there were plenty of others. 

The Treasury Department, for example, could have looked into selling debt at a premium. The debt ceiling binds the face value, or principal, of federal debt. There is no reason that this has to be equal to the amount the debt sells for – this is simply how auctions are currently structured. For much of U.S. history, government debt was sold at a discount or premium to its face value. Fixing an above-market interest rate and selling debt at more than face value would allow more funds to be raised without exceeding the debt ceiling. 

The administration might also have asked the Federal Reserve to prepay future remittances. In most years, the Fed makes a profit, which it remits to the Treasury. But it can also report a loss, as it has since September. When that happens, the Fed simply creates new reserves to make up the shortfall, offsetting these with a “deferred asset” representing future remittances. (Currently, the Fed is carrying a deferred asset of $62 billion.) The same device could be used to finance public spending without issuing debt. In a report a decade ago, Fed staff suggested that deferred assets could be used in this way to give the Treasury department “more breathing room under the debt ceiling.” (To be clear, they were not saying that this was a good idea, just noting the possibility.) 

Another route around the debt ceiling might come from the fact that about one-fifth of the federal debt – some $6 trillion – is held by federal trust funds like Social Security, rather than by the public. (Another $5 trillion is held by the Federal Reserve.) This debt has no economic function. It is a bookkeeping device reflecting the fact that trust fund contributions to date have been higher than payments. Retiring these bonds, or replacing them with other instruments that wouldn’t count against the ceiling, would have no effect on either the government’s commitment to pay scheduled benefits or its ability to do so. But it would reduce the notional value of debt outstanding. 

None of these options would be costless, risk-free, or even guaranteed to work. But there is little evidence they were seriously considered. This is a bit disheartening for supporters of the administration’s program. It’s hard to understand why you would go into negotiations with one hand tied behind your backs, and not have a plan B in case negotiations break down.

Tellingly, the one alternative the Biden team did consider was invoking the 14th Amendment to justify issuing new debt in defiance of the ceiling. The amendment refers specifically to the federal government’s debt obligations. But of course, hitting the debt ceiling would not only endanger the government’s debt service. It would threaten all kinds of payments that are legally mandated and economically vital. The openness to the 14th Amendment route, consistent with other public statements, suggests that decision-makers in the administration saw the overriding goal as protecting the financial system from the consequences of a debt default – as opposed to protecting the whole range of public payments. 

What looks like a myopic focus on the dangers to banks recalls one of the worst failures of the Obama administration. 

In the wake of the collapse of the housing market, Congress in 2009 authorized $46 billion in assistance for homeowners facing foreclosure through the Home Affordable Modification Program. But the Obama administration spent just a small fraction of this money (less than 3%) in the program’s first two years, helping only a small fraction of the number of homeowners originally promised. 

The failure to help homeowners was not due to callousness or incompetence. Rather, it was due to the overriding priority put on the stability of the banking system. As Obama’s Treasury Secretary Timothy Geithner later explained, they saw the primary purpose of HAMP not as assisting homeowners, but as a way to “foam the runway” for a financial system facing ongoing mortgage losses.

Geithner and company weren’t wrong to see shoring up the banks as important. The problem was that this was allowed to take absolute priority over all other goals — with the result that millions of families lost their homes, an important factor in the slow growth of much of the 2010s.

One wouldn’t want to push this analogy too far. The debt ceiling deal is not nearly as consequential – or as clear a reflection of administration priorities – as the abandonment of underwater homeowners was. But it does suggest similar blinders: too much attention to the danger of financial crisis on one side, not enough to equally grave threats from other directions.

It’s clear that Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen and the rest of the Biden administration are very attuned to the dangers of a default. But have they given enough thought to the other dangers of failing to reach a debt-ceiling deal — or of reaching a bad one? Financial crises are not the only crises. There are many ways that an economy can break down.

 

The Politics of Pay-Fors: A Simple Framework

One of the central economic debates among progressives is over the necessity or desirability of accompanying new public spending with similar-sized tax increases. In recent years perhaps the most visible, or at least the most heated, instances of this debate have been around Modern Mone(tar)y Theory. But the debate itself is broader and older.

These debates are in part about economic questions — both what the constraints on issuing new public-sector liabilities (“borrowing”) are in principle, and of how close we are to those constraints in practice. But a second and arguably more important dimension of the debate is political: In a public or legislative debate, what are the advantages and disadvantages of linking proposals for public spending with proposals for increased taxes?

I think it’s useful to think of this second question in terms of the grid of possibilities below. Some of this may seem obvious, but I find it’s sometimes helpful to spell out even obvious points.

On the horizontal axis we have spending relative to the baseline, from less to more. This axis also describes the political priority of the new spending — if there is to be only a small increase in spending, it will presumably go to items that are deemed highest value by the budget authorities, while greater overall spending allows for lower value items. Assuming that we think the priorities of the political process at least somewhat reflect social value, points at the far right can be thought of as socially useless or “waste”.

The vertical axis shows tax increases relative to the baseline, from less to more. Again, this also has a qualitative dimension. Modest tax increases can be targeted, for instance on higher incomes or on socially undesirable products or activities (Pigouvian taxes). But in order to raise large amounts of revenue, broad-based taxes are needed.1 The upper left corner, then, represents the status quo; the diagonal line coming down from it represents proposals that are fully paid for, that leave the expected fiscal balanced unchanged. Points below the line represent shifts toward fiscal surpluses, while points above it represent shifts toward deficit. If you think that spending to some degree pays for itself through Keynesian and/or supply side effects, you can imagine the slope of the diagonal line being flatter.

Remember: This is just a conceptual diagram, useful for organizing the debate. It doesn’t imply any substantive claims about what particular forms of spending will be prioritized by the political process, or what particular taxes should be seen as desirable for their own sake. And “status quo” here just means the null, what will happen if nothing happens, which might or might not be a continuation of current spending and tax policies.

Since I want to focus on the political question here, let’s stipulate that the budget balance itself isn’t economically important. So we can assess our preferred spending and tax proposals independently. We will want whatever progressive and Pigouvian taxes are desirable for their own sake, indicated by the blue bar on the left of the figure. And we will want whatever level of spending is required to meet urgent social needs, indicated by the blue bar at the top of the figure. Both of these will be modified based on current macroeconomic conditions — unemployment calls for more spending and/or lower taxes, while sustained inflation calls for less spending and/or higher taxes. (That’s why they are ranges rathe than points.) Thus the social optimal mix of spending and taxes will fall in the region marked with blue dotted lines.2

The question is now, what is the effect of linking spending changes with revenue changes — of requiring that new spending be “paid for”?

In general, it is to shift the policy debate away from the upper right and toward the lower left. This is shown by the various red arrows in the the figure, all of which represent trajectories from budget deficit toward surplus. The different arrows reflect the extent to which the pay-for requirement is  felt more strongly on the expenditure side (the flatter arrow) or the tax side (the steeper arrow), and what kinds of proposals you think are likely to be put forward in the absence of such a requirement.

Independently of where you think the socially optimal region is located, your judgement about the desirability of pay-for requirements will depend on what mix of spending cuts and revenue increases you think will result from it; what outcome you expect in its absence; and how you prioritize getting close to the optimum on the expenditure side versus on the revenue side. The argument of this post is that where people fall on paying for public spending depends more on these political judgments than on disagreements about economics. 

Here are some cases, corresponding to the arrows in the picture:

Arrow a reflects a view that the main effect of pay-for requirements is to impose priorities on spending. In this view, the normal outcome of the legislative process when large spending increases are proposed is to increase them even further, with items of limited or negative social value. So the main effect of fiscal constraints, in this view, is to force the budget authorities to focus on higher-priority items.3 This is reflected in an arrow that moves mainly to the left out of the “waste” region, toward the social optimum. This, I think, captures the view of the Obama team in 2009 and of prominent Obamanauts still in public life.

Arrow b is even flatter, and starts further to the left. This reflects a similar judgement that the main effect of pay-for requirements is to limit spending, but also that the bias of the political system is toward too little spending and that tax increases are politically very difficult. In this view, the main effect of a pay-for requirement is to make it likely that socially valuable spending will not take place. This is the view of most people in the progressive macro space today, as far as I can tell. Here is a version of this argument from some of my colleagues at the Roosevelt Institute.

Arrow c is steeper, moving directly toward the balanced-budget line. This reflects a judgement that a pay-for requirement will result in a mix of spending cuts and tax increases. Unlike the first two lines, which clearly move toward and away from the social optimum, respectively, this one is ambiguous on that point. This arrow, I think, captures where a lot of people around the Biden administration are right now. There is a range of views about what kind of fiscal position is appropriate in current conditions, and no significant commitment to balanced budgets as such. But there is, or has been, a strong view that it’s not possible to pass further large deficit-financed spending increases through Congress, in which case it’s important to preemptively move the debate (in the terms of the diagram) towards the diagonal. There’s also a view — reflected in the position of the arrow — that even if a pay-for requirement means the loss of some useful spending, the revenue raisers it encourages may be socially desirable for their own sake.

Finally, arrow d is even steeper, and starts higher up. This reflects a judgement that the main effect of pay-for requirements is to create pressure for higher taxes, and that this is a good thing. In this view, the main effect of “Keynesian” deficit financing is to allow the rich to escape the burden of paying for public spending, spending which will take place one way or the other. This is a minority but not fringe position on the left. It’s especially pronounced among MMT critics who attribute the school’s prominence to the fact that rich people welcome an excuse not to be taxed.

Broadly then, we have views that pay-for requirements are: politically helpful, because they reduce wasteful spending; politically harmful, because they reduce valuable spending; an unfortunate necessity, because deficit increases are politically harder than raising revenue; and politically helpful, because they motivate taxes on the rich. 

Again, all of this may seem a bit obvious. But I think it’s worth spelling out, because there’s some avoidable confusion that comes from treating as economic disagreements what are actually differing judgements about the contours of political possibility.

Between the two “left” positions (b and d), for example, you could put it this way: If we’re looking at a big expansion of public spending, what’s the effect of adding a requirement that it be paid for? Relative to the case without the requirement, it is more likely that we will get both the spending and a progressive tax increase. But it is also more likely that we won’t get the spending at all, or get less of it. How you trade these off against each other depends not just on your assessment of the relative likelihood, but also the relative importance you assign to the two goals. If you think that income inequality and the political power of the rich is the existential problem of our times, and progressive taxes are the only tool to rein it in, it’s not unreasonable to, in effect, hold public spending hostage in order to win them. If you think that other problems or more important, or there are other tools, you’ll feel differently.

My purpose here is not to say that any of these views is right or wrong. I’m just trying to clarify what’s being argued about. 

That said, here is the news story that prompted me to finally sit down and write this post. It’s a Financial Times article with the eye-catching headline “‘A Humiliating Climbdown’”:

This week Richard Neal, a Massachusetts Democrat and the leading tax writer in the House of Representatives, released his plan for $2.9tn in tax increases to fund Biden’s $3.5tn package… Neal’s proposal includes an increase in the top individual income tax rate from 37 per cent to 39.6 per cent, yet shies away from more aggressively targeting taxes on capital gains, the source of a huge share of wealth for millionaires and billionaires.

… The changes to Biden’s tax plan proposed in the House highlight the extent of the backlash among Democratic donors, lobbyists and constituents who have balked at the president’s efforts to tax wealth — especially capital gains.

\The point is, in this case at least, the link to tax increases seems to be making House Dems less likely to vote for something that includes them, not more likely. And this is especially true for the progressive income and wealth taxes that are central to the progressive case for pay-fors.

Even more than to the intra-left debate I just mentioned, the article speaks to the pragmatic mainstream case for pay-fors. One sometimes hears people say, ok, you’re right, there isn’t any real economic argument for matching spending and revenue. With interest rates on public debt still well below anything seen in US history before 2020, it’s hard to argue with a straight face that financial markets limit the US government’s ability to borrow. But, they say, there are still political constraints — at some point Congress is not going to pass more spending financed with debt.

In the view in which pay-fors are politically helpful, the space of political possibility slopes downward from upper right to lower left. The less borrowing you ask people to vote for, the easier it is. By committing to fully paying for all new spending, you are more likely to end up with a package that can make it past all the various veto points. But things like the FT article suggests that this isn’t the case — that the gradient of political feasibility instead slopes from bottom to top. The less revenue you need, the easier. 

In Arjun Jayadev’s and my piece on MMT and mainstream economics, we argued that differences between the two schools mostly “involve practical judgement about policy execution rather than any fundamental difference about how policy works in principle.” We continued:

We suspect that most in the mainstream macroeconomic policy world reject a functional finance rule not because they believe that it would not work if followed, but because they believe it would not in fact be followed. There is a widely shared though not always explicitly theorized presumption in mainstream policy discussions that macroeconomic policy in democratic polities suffers from a systematic bias toward deficits and inflation… Conversely, many MMT advocates believe that policymakers operating under a conventional assignment consistently err in the direction of accepting unemployment higher than required to maintain stable prices. … These judgements about the most likely direction of policy error are quite important for evaluating alternative policy rules, but they do not depend on any difference in strictly economic analysis.

That still seems right to me.

So which, then, seems more plausible? “Congress can’t pass something that will raise the deficit, so we need to find revenues to offset our spending,” versus “Congress hates raising taxes, so we need to be ready to accept higher deficits if we want higher spending.” 

Or again, which seems more plausible? “In the absence of some kind of financial constraint — even an artificial or imaginary one — we’ll see a wave of wasteful or even socially harmful spending,” versus, “Even in the absence of financial constraints, any expansion of the public sector has to overcome all kinds of hurdles and resistance.”  

I am arguing against my own interest as an economist here. But I suspect that clarifying what we believe — and why — on these kinds of questions would at this point advance the conversation around paying for public spending more than more narrowly economic analysis would.

The American Rescue Plan as Economic Theory

So, this happened.

Some people are frustrated about the surrender on the minimum wage, the scaled-back unemployment insurance, the child tax credit that should have been a universal child allowance, the fact that most of the good things phase out over the next year or two.

On the other side are those who see it as a decisive break with neoliberalism. Both the Clinton and Obama administrations entered office with ambitious spending plans, only to abandon or sharply curtail them (respectively), and instead embrace a politics of austerity and deficit reduction. From this point of view, the fact that the Biden administration not only managed to push through an increase in public spending of close to 10 percent of GDP, but did so without any promises of longer-term deficit reduction, suggests a fundamental shift.

Personally, I share this second perspective. I am less surprised by the ways in which the bill was trimmed back, than by the extent that it breaks with the Clinton-Obama model. The fact that people like Lawrence Summers have been ignored in favor of progressives like Heather Boushey and Jared Bernstein, and deficit hawks like the Committee for a Responsible Federal Budget have been left screeching irrelevantly from the sidelines, isn’t just gratifying as spectacle. It suggests a big move in the center of gravity of economic policy debates.

It really does seem that on the big macroeconomic questions, our side is winning. 

To be clear, the bill did not pass because some economists out-argued other economists. It was a political outcome that was driven by political conditions and political work. Most obviously, it’s hard to imagine this Biden administration without the two Sanders campaigns that preceded it. (In the president’s speech after signing the bill, Bernie was the first second person credited.) If it’s true, as reported, that Schumer kept expanded unemployment benefits in the bill only by threatening Manchin that the thing would not pass the House without them, then the Squad also deserves a lot of credit.

Still, from my parochial corner, it’s interesting to think about the economic theory implied by the bill. Implicitly, it seems to me, it represents a big break with prevailing orthodoxy.

Over the past generation, macroeconomic policy discussions have been based on a kind of textbook catechism that goes something like this: Over the long run, potential GDP grows at a rate based on supply-side factors — demographics, technological growth, and whatever institutions we think influence investment and labor force participation. Over the short run, there are random events that can cause actual spending to deviate from potential, which will be reflected in a higher or lower rate of inflation. These fluctuations are more or less symmetrical, both in frequency and in cost. The job of the central bank is to adjust interest rates to minimize the size of these deviations. The best short-term measure of how close the economy is to potential is the unemployment rate; at any given moment, there’s a minimum level of unemployment consistent with price stability. Smoothing out these fluctuations has real short run benefits, but no effects on long-term growth. The government budget balance, meanwhile, should not be used to stabilize demand, but rather should be kept at a level that ensures a stable or falling debt ratio; large fiscal deficits may be very costly. Finally, while it may be necessary to stabilize overall spending in the economy, this should be done in a way that minimizes “distortions” of the pattern of economic activity and, in particular, does not reduce the incentive to work.

Policy debates — though not textbooks — have been moving away from this catechism for a while. Jason Furman’s New View of Fiscal Policy is an example I often point to; you can also see it in many statements from Powell and other Fed officials, as I’ve discussed here and here. But these are, obviously, just statements. The size and design of ARPA is a more consequential rejection of this catechism. Without being described as such, it’s a decisive recognition of half a dozen points that those of us on the left side of the macroeconomic debate have been making for years.

1. The official unemployment rate is an unreliable guide to the true degree of labor market slack, all the time and especially in downturns. Most of the movement into and out of employment is from people who are not officially counted as unemployed. To assess labor market slack, we should also look at the employment-population ratio, and also at more direct measures of workers’ bargaining power like quit rates and wage increases. By these measures, the US pre-pandemic was still well short of the late 1990s.  More broadly, there is not a well defined labor force, but a  smooth gradient of proximity to employment. The short-term unemployed are the closest, followed by the longer-term unemployed, employed people seeking additional work, discouraged workers, workers disfavored by employers due to ethnicity, credentials, etc. Beyond this are people whose claim on the social product is not normally exercised by paid labor – retired people, the disabled, full-time caregivers – but might come to be if labor market conditions were sufficiently favorable. 

2. The balance of macroeconomic risks is not symmetrical. We don’t live in an economy that fluctuates around a long-term growth path, but one that periodically falls into recessions or depressions. These downturns are a distinct category of events, not a random “shock” to production or desired spending. Economic activity is a complex coordination problem; there are many ways it can break down or be interrupted that result in a fall in  spending, but not really any way it can abruptly accelerate. (There are no “positive shocks” for the same reason that there are lots of poisons but no wonder drugs.) It’s easy to imagine real-world developments that could causes businesses to abruptly cut back their investment plans, but not that would cause them to suddenly and unexpectedly scale them up. In real economies, demand shortfalls are much more frequent, persistent and damaging than is overheating. And to the extent the latter is a problem, it is much easier to interrupt the flow of spending than to restart it. 

3. The existence of hysteresis is one important reason that demand shortfalls are much more costly than overshooting. Overheating may have short-term costs in higher inflation, inflated asset prices and a redistribution of income toward relatively scarce factors (e.g. urban land), but it also is associated with a long-term increase in productive capacity — one that may eventually close the inflationary gap on its own. Shortfalls on the other hand lead to a reduction in potential output, and so may become self-perpetuating as potential GDP declines. Hysteresis also means that we cannot count on the economy returning to its long-term trend on its own — big falls in demand may persist indefinitely unless they are offset by some large exogenous boost to demand. Which in turn means that standard estimates of potential output understate the capacity of output to respond to higher spending. 

4. A full employment or high pressure economy has benefits that go well beyond the direct benefits of higher incomes and output. Hysteresis is part of this — full employment is a spur to innovation and faster productivity growth. But there are also major implications for the distribution of income. Those who are most disadvantaged in the labor market, are the ones who benefit most from very low unemployment. The World War II experience, and the subsequent evolution of the racial wage gap, suggests that historically, sustained tight labor markets have been the most powerful force for closing the gap between black and white wages.

I’m not sure how much people in the administration and Congress were actually making arguments like these in framing the bill. But even if they weren’t explicitly argued for, some mix of them logically follows from the willingness to pass something so much larger than the conventional estimates of the output gap would imply. Some mix of them also must underly the repeated statements that we can’t do too much, only too little, and from the recognition that the costs of an inadequate stimulus in 2009 were not just lower output for a year or two, but  an extended period of slow growth and stagnant wages. When Schumer says that in 2009, “we cut back on the stimulus dramatically and we stayed in recession for five years,” he is espousing a model of hysteresis, even if he doesn’t use the word.

On other points, there’s a more direct link between the debate over the bill and the shift in economic vision it implies.

5. Public debt doesn’t matter. Maybe I missed it, but as far as I can tell, in the push for the Rescue Plan neither the administration nor the Congressional leadership made even a gesture toward deficit reduction, not even a pro forma comment that it might be desirable in principle or in the indefinite long run. The word “deficit” does not seem to have occurred in any official statement from the president since early February — and even then it was in the form of “it’s a mistake to worry about the deficit.” Your guide to being a savvy political insider suggests appropriate “yes, buts” to the Rescue Plan — too much demand will cause inflation, or alternatively that demand will collapse once the spending ends. Nothing about the debt. Things may change, of course, but at the moment it’s astonishing how completely we have won on this one.

6. Work incentives don’t matter. For decades, welfare measures in the US have been carefully tailored to ensure that they did not broaden people’s choices other than wage labor. The commitment to maintaining work incentives was strong enough to justify effectively cutting off all cash assistance to families without anyone in paid employment — which of course includes the poorest.  The flat $600 pandemic unemployment insurance was a radical departure from this — reaching everyone who was out of work took priority over ensuring that no one was left better off than they would be with a job. The empirical evidence that this had no effect on employment is informative about income-support programs in general. Obviously $300 is less than $600, but it maintains the priority of broad eligibility. Similarly, by allowing families with no wages to get the full benefit, making the child tax credit full refundable effectively abandons work incentives as a design principle (even if it would be better at that point to just make it a universal child allowance.) As many people have pointed out, this is at least directionally 180 degrees from Clinton-era “welfare reform.” 

7.  Direct, visible spending is better than indirect spending or spending aimed at altering incentives. For anyone who remembers the debates over the ARRA at the start of the Obama administration, it’s striking how much the Rescue Plan leans into direct, visible payments to households. The plan to allow the child tax credit to be paid out in monthly installments may have some issues (and, again, would certainly work better if it were a flat allowance rather than a tax credit) but what’s interesting here is that it reflects a view that making the payments more salient is a good thing, not a bad thing.

In other areas, the conceptual framework hasn’t moved as far as I would have hoped, though we are making progress:

8. Means testing is costly and imprecise. As Claudia Sahm, Matt Bruenig and others have forcefully argued, there’s a big disconnect between the way means testing is discussed and the way it actually operates. When the merits of income-based spending are talked about in the abstract, it’s assumed that we know every household’s income and can assign spending precisely to different income groups. But when we come to implement it, we find that the main measure of income we use is based on tax records from one to two years earlier; there are many cases where the relevant income concept isn’t obvious; and the need to document income creates substantial costs and uncertainties for beneficiaries. Raising the income thresholds for things like the child tax credit is positive, but the other side of that is that once the threshold gets high enough it’s perverse to means-test at all: In order to exclude a relatively small number of high-income families you risk letting many lower-income families fall through the cracks. 

9. Weak demand is an ongoing problem, not just a short-term one. The most serious criticism of the ARPA is, I think, that so many of its provisions are set to phase out at specific dates when they could be permanent (the child tax credit) or linked to economic conditions (the unemployment insurance provisions). This suggests an implicit view that the problems of weak demand and income insecurity are specific to the coronavirus, rather than acute forms of a chronic condition. This isn’t intended as a criticism of those who crafted the bill — it may well be true that a permanent child tax credit couldn’t be passed under current conditions.

Still, the arguments in support of many of the provisions are not specific to the pandemic, and clearly imply that these measures ought to be permanent. If the child tax credit will cut child poverty by half, why would you want to do that for only one year? If a substantial part of the Rescue Plan should on the merits be permanent, that implies a permanently larger flow of public spending. The case needs to be made for this.

10. The public sector has capacities the private sector lacks. While Biden’s ARPA is a big step forward from Obama’s ARRA in a lot of ways, one thing they have in common is a relative lack of direct public provision. The public health measures are an exception, of course, and the aid to state and local governments — a welcome contrast with ARRA — is public spending at one remove, but the great majority of the money is going to boost private spending. That’s not necessarily a bad thing in this specific context, but it does suggest that, unlike the case with public debt, the institutional and ideological obstacles to shifting activities from for-profit to public provision are still formidable. 

My goal in listing these points isn’t, to be clear, to pass judgement on the bill one way or the other. Substantively, I do think it’s a big victory and a clear sign that elections matter. But my interest in this particular post is to think about what it says about how thinking about economic policy is shifting, and how those shifts might be projected back onto economic theory.

What would a macroeconomics look like that assumed that the economy was normally well short of supply constraints rather than at potential on average, or was agnostic about whether there was a meaningful level of potential output at all? What would it look like if we thought that demand-induced shifts in output are persistent, in both directions? Without the assumption of a supply-determined trend which output always converges to, it’s not clear there’s a meaningful long run at all. Can we have a macroeconomic theory that dispenses with that?

One idea that I find appealing is to think of supply as constraining the rate of growth of output, rather than its level. This would fit with some important observable facts about the world — not just that demand-induced changes in output are persistent, but also that employment tends to grow (and unemployment tends to fall) at a steady rate through expansions, rather than a quick recovery and then a return to long-run trend. The idea that there is a demographically fixed long-run employment-population ratio flies in the face of the major shifts of employment rates within demographic groups. A better story, it seems to me, is that there is a ceiling on the rate that employment can grow — say 1.5 or 2 percent a year — without any special adjustment process; faster growth requires drawing new people into the labor force, which typically requires faster wage growth and also involves various short run frictions. But, once strong growth does generate a larger labor force, there’s no reason for it to revert back to its old trend. 

More broadly, thinking of supply constraints in terms of growth rates rather than levels would let us stop thinking about the supply side in terms of an abstract non monetary economy “endowed” with certain productive resources, and start thinking about it in terms of the coordination capabilities of markets. I feel sure this is the right direction to go. But a proper model needs to be worked out before it is ready for the textbooks.

The textbook model of labor markets that we still teach justifies a focus on “flexibility”, where real wages are determined by on productivity and a stronger position for labor can only lead to higher inflation or unemployment. Instead, we need a model where the relative position of labor affects real as well as nominal wages, and  in which faster wage growth can be absorbed by faster productivity growth or a higher wage share as plausibly as by higher prices.

Or again, how do we think about public debt and deficits once we abandon the idea that a constant debt-GDP ratio is a hard constraint? One possibility is that we think the deficit matters, but debt does not, just as we now think think that the rate of inflation matters but the absolute price level does not.  To earlier generations of economists, the idea that prices could just rise forever without limit, would have seemed insane. But today we find it perfectly reasonable, as long as the rise over any given period is not too great. Perhaps we’ll come to the same view of public debt. To the extent that we do care about the debt ratio, we need to foreground the fact that its growth over time depends as much on interest, inflation and growth rates as it does on new borrowing. For the moment, the fact that interest rates are much lower than growth rates is enough to convince people past concerns were overblown. But to regard that as a permanent rather than contingent solution, we need, at least, to get rid of the idea of a natural rate of interest. 

In short, just as a generation of mainstream macroeconomic theory was retconned into an after-the-fact argument for an inflation-targeting central bank, what we need now is textbooks and theories that bring out, systematize and generalize the reasoning that justifies a great expansion of public spending, unconstrained by conventional estimates of potential output, public debt or the need to preserve labor-market incentives. The circumstances of the past year are obviously exceptional, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be made the basis of a general rule. For the past generation, macroeconomic theory has been largely an abstracted parable of the 1970s, when high interest rates (supposedly) saved us from inflation. With luck, perhaps the next generation will learn macroeconomics as a parable of our own time, when big deficits saved us from secular stagnation and the coronavirus.

The CBO Just Handed Us Two Trillion Dollars

Anyone who follows the DC budget game at all knows that the Congressional Budget Office (CBO) is supposed to be its referee. Any proposal that involves new spending or revenue is scored by the CBO for its impact on the federal debt over the next ten years. That score normally sets the terms on which the proposal will be debated and voted on. This ritual is sufficiently established that most spending proposals are described in terms of their cost over the next ten years – the CBO’s scoring window.

The CBO doesn’t only assess individual bills, it also gives a baseline, producing regular forecasts of major economic variables and the path of the debt under current policy. In a sense, these forecasts are the playing field on which budget proposals compete. So it ought to be a big deal when the CBO changes the shape of the field.

In their most recent 10-year budget and economic forecast, the CBO made a big change, reducing their long-run forecast of the interest rate on government bonds by almost a full percentage point, from 3.7 to 2.9. (See Table 2.6 here.)

Most directly, the new, lower interest rate reduces expected debt payments over the next decade by $2.2 trillion. It also significantly reduces the expected debt-GDP ratio. Under the assumptions the CBO was using at the start of this year, the debt ratio under existing policy would reach 120 percent by 2040. Using the new interest rate assumption, it reaches only 106 percent. With one change of assumptions, a third of the long-run rise in the federal debt just disappeared.

Debt-GDP Ratio with CBO Interest Forecasts of January vs August 2019

While this downward revision is exceptionally large, it’s hardly the first time the CBO has adjusted its interest rate forecasts. In April 2018, they raised their estimate of the long-run rate on 10-year bonds from 3.1 percnet to 3.8 percent. But that upward move is an exception; for most of the past decade, the CBO has been steadily adjusting its interest rate frecasts downward, adapting — like most other macroeconomic forecasters — to the failure of the economy to return to pre-recession trends. As recently as February 2014, they were predicting a long-run rate of 5 percent. And it’s likely the interest-rate forecast will continue to decline; the current 10-year Treasury rate is less than 1.8 percent.

The newest forecast was released in August, and as far as I can tell the change in the interest-rate assumption has gotten almost no attention in the two months since then. But it really should.

At the very least, this means that anyone arguing that federal debt is a climate-change-level threat to humanity needs to update their talking points. The claim that federal debt “will be close to 150% of GDP by 2050” is, as of August, not even close to correct. With the new interest assumptions, the figure is less than 120 percent.

To be fair, an argument that doesn’t go beyond “oooh, big number, scary” isn’t likely to be much affected by this revision. But the new interest estimate has broader implications.

If the term “fiscal space” means anything, lower expected interest rates have to mean that there is more of it. That $2 trillion in interest savings the new CBO estimate has handed us, could presumably be used for something else. As a downpayment on single-payer health coverage, say, or as public investment in decarbonization as part of a Green New Deal. Whatever spending we think most urgent or politically practical, we could borrow an extra percent of GDP or so a year to pay for it, and leave the long-term debt picture looking no worse than before.

Whatever level of federal spending you thought would keep the debt on a reasonable path a year ago, you should think that number is $2 trillion higher today. 

To be clear, CBO scoring doesn’t actually work this way. Budget proposals are evaluated relative to the baseline, wherever that happens to be. So the change in the interest assumption will have only a marginal effect on the score for individual bills. But if there is any rational content to the CBO scoring ritual, it has to involve some sort of judgement about what level of debt is reasonable, relative to GDP. If you take CBO debt forecasts seriously – as almost everyone in the policy world at least claims to – then lower interest rates mean more space for new borrowing.

Lower future interest rates also have  implications for stabilization policy. They mean that in the next recession, whenever it comes, there will be even less space for the Federal Reserve to lower rates to boost demand, and a correspondingly greater need for fiscal policy – a point that, fortunately, members of the House Budget Committee seem to understand.

There’s one more, even broader, implication of the new forecast. What does it mean that the CBO keeps revising its forecasts of future interest rates downward, even as federal debt itself continues to rise?  Obviously there is not the tight relationship between a high debt-GDP ratio and rising interest rates that austerity-promoting economists like to predict. Which should raise a question for anyone interested in macroeconomic policy or public budgets: If high federal debt doesn’t have any reliable effect on interest rates, then what exactly is its economic cost supposed to be?

 

(Cross-posted from the Roosevelt Institute blog.)

 

In The American Prospect: The Collapse of Austerity Economics

(This review is coauthored with Arjun Jayadev, and appears in the Fall 2019 issue of the The American Prospect. The version below includes a few passages that were cut from the published version for space reasons.)

Review of Albert Alesina, Carlo Faverro and Francesco Giavazzi,  Austerity: When It Works and When It Doesn’t
With Arjun Jayadev

A decade ago, Alberto Alesina was one of the most influential economists in the world. His theory of ‘expansionary austerity’ – the paradoxical notion that reducing public expenditure would lead to an increase in economic activity — was one of the hottest ideas in macroeconomics. He claimed to have shown that government surpluses could actually boost growth, but only if they were achieved via spending cuts rather than tax increases. At a moment when many governments were seeking Keynesian remedies to a global recession, his work (along with fellow Harvard economist Silvia Ardagna) reassured conservatives that there was no conflict between keeping up demand in a crisis, and the longer-term goal of reining in the public sector.

Not surprisingly, his ideas were taken up by right-wing politicians both in Europe and in the US, where he was widely cited by the Republicans who took control of the House in 2010. Along with the work of Reinhart and Rogoff on the supposed dangers of excessive government debt, Alesina’s work provided one of the key intellectual props for the shift among elite policymakers towards fiscal consolidation and austerity.

 Right from the outset, other economists pointed to serious flaws in the case for expansionary austerity, and challenged virtually aspect of the statistical exercises underlying it. A partial list of criticisms includes: using inappropriate measures of fiscal balance; misapplying lessons from boom times to periods of crisis; misclassifying episodes of fiscal expansion as austerity; and generalizing from the special conditions of small open economies, where exchange rate moves could cushion the effects of austerity. Even the most cherished result— that expenditure based austerity worked better than tax-based austerity — has been convincingly challenged.

In 2009, Alesina suggested that Europe was likely to see faster growth because it was cutting public spending in response to the crisis, while the US had embraced conventional Keynesian stimulus. He was right about the difference in responses to the crisis; about economic growth, not so much. The US recovery was weak by historical standards, but in Europe there was hardly a recovery at all. In the countries that cut public spending the most, such as Spain, Portugal, and Ireland, GDP remained below its 2008 peak four, five, even six years after the crisis. By 2013 the financial journalist Jim Tankersley could offer an unequivocal verdict: “No advanced economy has proved Alesina correct in the wake of the Great Recession.”  

Macroeconomic debates have moved on since then. A large new empirical literature on fiscal policy has emerged over the past decade, the great majority of it confirming the old Keynesian wisdom that in a depressed economy, increased public spending can raise output by perhaps $1.50 for each dollar spent. New questions have been raised about central banks’ ability to stabilize the economy, whether with conventional monetary policy or with new tools like forward guidance and quantitative easing. The seemingly permanent reality of low interest rates has changed the debate over the sustainability of government finances, with prominent mainstream economists suggesting that public debt no longer poses the dangers it was once thought to. The revived idea of secular stagnation has suggested that economic stimulus may not be a problem for occasional downturns, but an ongoing necessity. And the urgency of climate change has created big new tasks for the public sector. 

It’s a very different conversation from a decade ago. Can Alesina’s ideas adapt to this new environment? 

That’s the challenge for his new book, Austerity: When It Works and When It Doesn’t, which offers a summing-up of work on government budgets that goes back now almost three decades. Through the years, Alesina has had a rotating case of co-authors, often from Bocconi University in Italy; this book is co-authored with Carlo Ferro and Francisco Giavazzi, both professors there. Given the way that the book has been advertised and promoted (“towering”, a “counterblast”), one might expect a thorough response to the new arguments that have developed over the past decade about aggregate demand management and the appropriate size of the public sector.

Disappointingly, this is not the case. There has been no marking of beliefs to market. For the most part, the book restates the same arguments that were made a decade ago: countries with high public debt must adopt austerity, and this will not hurt growth if it takes the form spending cuts rather than tax increases. Alesina and his coauthors do make some effort to respond to specific methodological criticisms of the earlier work. But they don’t engage with – or even acknowledge – the larger shifts in the landscape. Tellingly, all the book’s formal analysis and almost all of its text (as well as the online data appendix) stop in 2014. For what is supposed to be a definitive statement, it’s an odd choice. Why ignore everything we might learn about austerity and government budgets from the experiences of the past five years?

The book also operates at an odd mix of registers, which makes it hard to understand who the audience is. Exoteric chapters seemingly intended for a broad readership are interspersed with math-heavy esoteric chapters that will be read only by professional economists. You get the feeling this is mostly material that sat in a drawer for a long time before being fished out and stapled together into a book.

To be fair, there are some advances from the previous iterations. Alesina’s earlier work had been criticized for ignoring problems of causality – when high growth and government surpluses are found together, how do we know which is causing which?  Now, instead of relying on purely statistical measures of association, there is more extensive attention given to what has been called the “narrative” approach, with periods of austerity defined by the stated intentions of policy makers rather than simply by changes in the budget position. This approach– pioneered by Romer and Romer to understand US policy actions and expanded by economists at the IMF — does have advantages over the naive statistical approach. By including only tax increases and spending cuts made for reasons other than current economic conditions, it avoids, in principle at least, the problem of fiscal adjustments resulting from changes in economic activity, rather than causing them. But it is still no substitute for a real historical analysis that considers the whole complex of factors influencing both budget positions and growth. Gesturing towards the need for more substantive narrative, the later chapters include several case studies on various OECD countries which undertook austerity measures. These are rather thin and have a Wikipedia air about them; in any case the great bulk of the argument is still based on statistical exercises.

Those who are not convinced by the econometrics in Alesina’s earlier work will not be convinced here either. Even people who share the authors’ commitment to rolling back the public sector may suspect that they are in the presence of what is politely called motivated reasoning. 

To those who don’t share that commitment, it is clear from the opening pages that we are dealing with ideological fiction, not objective analysis. Per Alesina and co, most austerity episodes reflect countries persistently spending beyond their means, with debt rising until a tipping point is reached. But in Europe – surely ground zero in any discussion of contemporary austerity – this story lacks even superficial plausibility. On the eve of their crises, Ireland, Spain and even Portugal had debt-GDP ratios below that of unscathed France; Spain and Ireland were well below Germany. (The fact that Germany consistently ran large deficits in the decade before the crisis is not mentioned here.) Indeed, until 2011 Ireland, now an austerity poster child, had the lowest debt ratio of any major Western European country.

The book asserts that episodes of austerity triggered by outside pressures – as opposed to a government’s own mismanagement of its finances – are rare exceptions. But in Europe they were the rule. The crisis came first, then the turn to austerity; the rising debt ratios came last, driven mainly by falling GDP; budget deficits were an effect, not a cause. Even Greece, perhaps the one country where public finances were a genuine problem before the crisis, is a case in point: From 2010 to 2015, deep cutbacks in public services successfully reduced public debt by about $15 billion euros, or 5 percent — but the debt-GDP ratio still rose by 30 points, thanks to a collapse in GDP.

It would be easy to debate the book point by point. But it’s more useful to take a step back, and think about the larger argument. While the book shifts erratically in tone and subject, underlying all of its arguments – and the larger pro-austerity case – is a rigid logical skeleton. First, a government’s fiscal balance (surplus or deficit) over time determines its debt-GDP ratio. If a country has a high debt to GDP, that is “almost always … the result of overspending relative to tax revenues.” (2) Second, the debt ratio leads markets to be confident in the government’s debt – private investors do not want to buy the debt of a country that has already issued too much. Third, the state of market confidence determines the interest rate the government faces, or whether it can borrow at all. Fourth, there is a clear line where high debt and high interest rates make debt unsustainable; austerity is the unavoidable requirement once that line is passed. And finally, when austerity restores debt sustainability that contributes – via lower interest rates and “confidence” more broadly – to economic growth, especially if the austerity involves spending cuts. 

Individually, these claims are in keeping with the conventional wisdom of the business press and the maxims of “sound finance.” Together, they make a causal story that’s a one-way track with no side branches: Any problems that a government encounters with debt are the result of its fiscal choices in the past. And any solution must involve a different set of fiscal choices – higher taxes or, better, less public spending. 

If you accept the premises, the conclusions follow logically. Even better, they offer the satisfying spectacle of public-sector hubris meeting its nemesis. 

But real-world debt dynamics don’t run along such well-oiled tracks. At every step, there are forks, sidings and roundabouts, that leave the link from fiscal misconduct to well-deserved austerity much less direct than the book suggests.

First of all, as a historical matter, differences in growth, inflation and interest rates are at least as important as the fiscal position in determining the evolution of the debt ratio over time. Where debt is already high, moderately slower growth or higher interest rates can easily raise the debt ratio faster than even very large surpluses can reduce it – as many countries subject to austerity have discovered.

Conversely, rapid economic growth and low interest rates can lead to very large reductions in the debt ratio without the government ever running surpluses, as in the US and UK after World War II. More recently, Ireland reduced its debt-GDP ratio by 20 points in just five years in the mid-1990s while continuing to run substantial deficits, thanks to very fast growth of the “Celtic tiger” period. In situations like the European crisis, extraordinary actions like public assumptions of private debt or writedowns by creditors (as in Cyprus and Greece) can also produce large changes in the stock of debt, without any changes in spending or taxes. Ireland again is an example: The decision to assume the liabilities of private banks catapulted its debt-GDP ratio from 27 percent to over 100 percent practically overnight. Cases like this make a mockery of the book’s central claim that a country’s debt burden reliably reflects its past fiscal choices.

At the second step, market demand for government clearly is not an “objective” assessment of the fiscal position, but reflects crowd psychology, self-confirming conventional expectations, and all the other pathologies of speculative markets. The claim that the interest rates facing a country are directly and reliably linked to the state of its public finances is critical to the book’s argument; rising interest rates are the channel by which high debt creates pressure for austerity, while falling interest rates are the channel by which austerity supports renewed growth. But the claim that interest rates reflect the soundness or otherwise of public budgets runs up against a glaring problem: The financial markets that recoil from a country’s bonds one day were usually buying them eagerly the day before. The same markets that sent interest rates on Spanish, Portuguese and Greek bonds soaring in 2010 were the ones snapping up their public and private debt at rock-bottom rates in the mid-2000s. And they’re the same markets that are setting interest rates for those countries at historical low levels today (Greece now pays less to borrow than the US!), even as their debt ratios, in many cases, remain extremely high.

The authors get hopelessly tangled on this point. They want to insist both that post-crisis interest rates reflect the true state of public finances, and that the low rates before the crisis were the result of a speculative bubble. But they can’t have it both ways: If low rates in 2005 were not a sign that the state of public finances was sound, then high rates in 2010 can’t be a sign that they were unsound.

If the analysis had extended beyond 2014, this problem would only have gotten worse. What’s really striking about interest rates in Europe in recent years is how uniformly they have declined. Ireland, which has managed to reduce its debt ratio by 50 points since 2010, today borrows at less than 1 percent. But so does Spain, whose debt ratio increased by 40 points over the same period. The claim that interest rates are mainly a function of a country’s fiscal position just doesn’t fit the historical experience. It’s hard to exaggerate how critical this is for the whole argument. Rising interest rates are the only cost Alesina and his coauthors ever mention for high debt, and hence the only reason for austerity; and reducing interest costs is the only intelligible mechanism they offer for the supposed growth-boosting effects of austerity – vague invocations of “confidence” don’t count.

And this brings us to the third step. One of the clearest macroeconomic lessons of the past decade is that market confidence doesn’t matter: A determined central bank can set interest rates on public borrowing at whatever level it chooses. In the years before 2007, there were endless warnings that if the US did not get its fiscal house in order, it would be faced with rising interest rates, a flight from the dollar and eventually the prospect of default. (In 2005, Nouriel Roubini and Brad Setser were bold enough to predict that unsustainable deficits would lead to a collapse in the dollar within the next two years.) Today, with the debt much higher than even the pessimistic forecasts of that period, the federal government borrows more cheaply than ever in history. And there hasn’t been even a hint of the Fed losing control of interest rates.

Similar stories apply around the world. Perhaps the clearest illustration of central banks’ power over financial markets came in 2011-2012, when a series of interventions by the European Central bank – culminating in Mario Draghi’s famous “whatever it takes” — stopped the sharp spike in southern European interest rates in its tracks. With an implicit guarantee from their central banks – which other developed countries like the US and UK also enjoy – governments simply don’t need to worry about losing access to credit. To the extent that governments like Greece remained locked out of the markets after Draghi’s announcement, this was a policy choice by the ECB, not a market outcome. 

If countries can face financial crises even when their debt ratio is low, and can enjoy ultra-low interest rates even when they are high, then it’s hard to see why the debt ratio should be a major object of policy. Alesina and colleagues’ central question – whether expenditure-based or tax-based austerity is better for growth – is irrelevant, since there’s no good reason for austerity at all. 

In a world of chronically low interest rates and active central banks, government debt just isn’t a problem. At one point, this was a fringe position but today it’s been accepted by economists with as impeccable mainstream credentials as Olivier Blanchard, Lawrence Summers and Jason Furman – the former chief economist of the IMF, Treasury Secretary and chair of the Council of Economic Advisors, respectively. But not by Alesina, who just goes on singing the same old songs.

The pro-austerity arguments in this book will therefore face more of a headwind than they did when Alesina made them a decade ago. “Sound finance” is no longer the pillar of elite opinion it once was. As we write this, Christine Lagarde, the new head of the European Central Bank, is calling for European governments to spend more during downturns – something hard to imagine when Alesina’s ideas were in vogue. In the US, meanwhile, concerns about the federal debt seem almost passe.

This is progress, from our point of view. The intellectual case for austerity has collapsed, and this book will do little to rebuild it. But that has not yet led to an expansion of public spending – let alone one large enough to restore genuine full employment and meet the challenge of climate change and other urgent social needs. The austerity machinery of the euro system and IMF still churns away, grinding out misery and unemployment across southern Europe and elsewhere, even if it no longer commands the general assent that it once did. At the level of ideas, Keynesian economists can point to real gains in the decade since the crisis. At the level of concrete policy, the work has barely begun.

Can We Afford a Green New Deal?

[I was at an event the other night bringing together people from the economic-policy and climate activism worlds. I was asked to talk about the macroeconomic case for a Green New Deal, and the question of “how do we pay for it?” Here is a somewhat extended and edited version of my remarks.]

Most of the Democratic candidates now have plans for major public investment programs to deal with the challenge of climate change. These involve spending on the order of 2 percent of GDP on average, ranging from half a percent for Beto O’Rourke up to 4 percent for Bernie Sanders.  

A question that will get asked about any of these plans is, how do we pay for it? Can we afford it?

We might simply reject the question, on the grounds that what we cannot afford is to continue dumping carbon into the atmosphere. Any plan to substantially reduce carbon emissions will pass any reasonable cost-benefit test.

But I think we should answer the “pay for it” question. It has a good answer!

The question is really two questions:

– How can federal government finance it? – what new money coming in will match the new money going out?

– Are the real resources available, or will we have to sacrifice production in other areas?

On first question, given that low interest rates now seem to be a permanent feature of our world, it is very hard to make a an argument that additional borrowing on the scale of 2, 3 or even 4 percent of GDP would be economically costly. When interest rates are below GDP growth rates, the debt-to-GDP ratio stabilzies on its own, even if you run deficits forever. Unlike in the 1980s and 1990s, when interest rates were higher, today it is impossible for public debt to snowball out of control.

If it has no effect on growth, additional debt-financed spending of 2 percent of GDP would bring the debt-GDP ratio to about 105 percent in 2030. Debt-financed spending of 4 percent of GDP would bring the ratio to 125 percent. Looking around the world, or at history, there is just no evidence that debt at that level has any economic costs. The US ended World War II with a debt ratio of about 120 percent of GDP, the UK over 200 percent. Japan today has a debt ratio of 250 percent of GDP, while France and Belgium have debt ratios around 100 percent. None of these countries have seen any of the negative consequences – spiking interest rates, rising inflation, a collapsing exchange rate — that are supposed to follow from excessive government debt. Quite the opposite, in fact.

And if there is any boost to growth from additional spending – any role for what economists call called hysteresis — then the debt ratio would be even smaller. If we take a standard estimate of the multiplier — the boost to GDP from an additional dollar of public spending — of 1.5, and assume half of that effect is permanent, then debt-financed public spending can actually leave the debt ratio lower than it would be otherwise. In which case the new spending would fully pay for itself, even without any new revenue. Of course there is a lot of uncertainty around these questions – I wouldn’t promise an effect on growth that large. But it doesn’t seem crazy to think that a program public investment could substantially raise the economy’s productive potential. 

If we do want to raise revenue, there is also plenty of space for taxes on very high incomes and wealth, or a carbon tax, or other taxes that are socially desirable for their own sake, to finance some substantial portion of a decarbonization program. A recent very thorough study of the space for high-end income and wealth taxes by a couple of professors at NYU identified taxes that could raise over 2 percent of GDP on a very targeted base of the highest incomes. A wealth tax, again targeted at the very richest households, could raise another 2 percent or so. These are taxes we would like to raise anyway, because great concentrations of income and wealth are bad for our democracy and for our society. (There’s even evidence they are bad for our health.) So if we can finance decarbonization this way, we shouldn’t see it as a cost.

We often hear that it’s a fantasy to say that decarbonization will be economically costless, that it isn’t realistic to talk about spending on this scale without broad-based tax increases, without sacrifices by the middle class households. But this is crackpot realism. Of course there will be costs in particular carbon-intensive sectors of the economy. But the notion that investing in decarbonization necessarily requires sacrifices by working people in general, or painful choices about the federal budget, is just not borne out by the numbers. 

On the real resources side, the critical point is that by any measure, the US economy has operated below potential for the large majority of the time in recent decades. Taking official statistics at face value, since 1980 there have been 192 months when the unemployment rate was more than one point above the NAIRU – the unemployment rate targeted by the Fed. There have been only 18 months when it was more than one point below. It took a full seven years after the last downturn for output to return to official estimate of potential. The total shortfall equaled 25 percent of GDP. 

Even the most ambitious climate plan would have been barely enough spending to fill that gap.

And there are lots of reasons to think that these official measure understates economic potential. GDP today is more than 10 percent below what was forecast a decade ago. Labor force participation still significantly down from a decade, even among those 25-54 – prime working-age adults. Inflation is still below target. Wage growth is still slow. Almost any alternative measure you can think of suggests that the economy is running well below potential even today, and that there is enough slack for a substantial program of public investment without the need to reduce production of anything else.

Even if we think the economy is operating at normal capacity today, there are major social benefits to letting demand push up against capacity – to running the economy hot. There is strong evidence that the only way you get a rise in the wage share and especially a rise in wages at the lower end, is with sustained very low unemployment – what people call a high-pressure economy. Consistent with that, we’ve begun to see some recovery in wages at the bottom of the distribution in the past couple years. This is welcome, but it’s nowhere enough to make up for losses in previous years. For that, we still need more spending, stronger demand.

And that’s today. In a few years, we are likely to want more spending much more. 

Today many people are talking about the possibility of recession within next year or so. Nobody except for a few cranks is talking about a sudden surge of inflation, or sudden takeoff of wages.

If there is a recession, the ability of the Fed and other central banks to offset a fall in demand is gong to be even more limited this time than it was in the last recession. In past recessions, the Fed has typically reduced rates by 5 points, and this has still not been enough to stabilize demand. Now we will be starting from a federal funds rate of only 2 percent, giving room for only 2 points of cuts. And there is good reason to think that the economy is less sensitive to changes in the policy rate than we used to believe. Central bankers themselves are quite clear that we will need more public spending in a recession. When Fed chair Jay Powell testified before Congress earlier this summer, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez asked him what he would do in the event of another deep recession. He said monetary policy would not be enough, that the Fed would need help from fiscal policy – from the federal government spending more. Christine Lagarde, in her first public comments after being appointed head of the European Central Bank, said the same thing, that governments in the eurozone needed to spend more to boost demand. The central bank can’t be “the only game in town,” she said.

One of the big lessons of the stimulus debates in the last recession is that it is very hard to ramp up public spending in a hurry. There are not a lot of “shovel ready” projects out there waiting for someone to just start writing checks. So if we think we are going to need a big boost to public spending in the near future, we had better begin ramping it up now. 

Many discussions of the cost of responding to climate change start from the idea that we are fully using our resources. If this were true, we’d have to ask how much consumption is worth giving up today in order to maintain a habitable planet in the future. Obviously the answer should be: A lot! But we don’t have to ask the question, because it isn’t true. We are living in a world where we are not using all our real resources, because of a lack of demand. Some people call this secular stagnation.  We are living in a world where the central macroeconomic problem is that there is too little spending to fully utilize the economy’s productive potential – not just occasionally in recessions, but all the time, or at least on average. 

Some people will say to this: Ok, we agree that the economy is running below capacity. We agree there is space to add more federal debt, and to raise taxes on the rich. Still, you could use that space for anything. It’s not a case for Green New Deal specifically.

This sounds superficially reasonable, but I don’t think it’s right. Because the evidence of recent history suggests that we won’t use that space.

Almost everyone today agrees that stimulus in last recession was too small — and that even if it might have been big enough in the abstract, it was offset by massive anti-stimulus at the state-local level. The situation in Europe is even worse, with deep austerity almost everywhere, with the result that countries like Italy have lower GDP than a decade ago. Even when mainstream economists say there is actually a case for deficit spending and not to worry about balanced budgets, it turns out to be very hard to get the political system to listen.

If we don’t use our productive capacity and our financial capacity for a Green New Deal, it’s very likely we won’t use it for anything.

The discussion  of public budgets, among economists and much of the media and policy world, has not caught up to reality. We still talk about governments being subject to deficit bias – that’s a term of art in the macroeconomics literature, used to justify all kinds of rules to restrict government spending. We have this idea that without some sort of hard external constraint, elected officials are going to declare it’s Christmas every day and shovel money out the door on anything popular. We assume that you need some sort of disciplining device to force policymakers to make hard choices, or else they will just try to spend without limit. But governments today don’t suffer from deficit bias. On the contrary: The problem is austerity bias. For whatever reason governments refuse to spend even when the economic case for it is overwhelming. 

This isn’t just a wasted opportunity for all sorts of valuable public spending. It imposes real costs in slower growth, fewer jobs, lower wages. And slow growth and low employment and wages have political costs too, as we know. 

In this environment, it’s wrong to think about tradeoffs and making hard choices. This may sound strange coming from an economists, but it’s wrong to think about opportunity costs. The question is not, why should we do this rather than that? The question is, how do we break through the logjam that stops us from doing anything at all?

One of the unique things about climate change is that it may be a crisis urgent enough to overcome the entrenched austerity bias of governments, and to push public spending up toward the level needed to get true full employment. It may be the only thing urgent enough other than a major war — which we certainly do not want. 

So when we look at the cost of the climate proposals out there against today’s macroeconomic background, the question should not be, are they too expensive? The question should be: Are they expensive enough? 

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

(EDIT: It’s not sufficiently clear in the original post, but I wrote this as a sort of compendium of arguments one might use in response to claims that the federal debt is a binding constraint on new spending. I’m not saying these are the best or only reasons to reject the idea that federal government cannot borrow more. I’m saying that these are arguments that seem to have some traction in the mainstream policy world, such that you could use them in a newspaper op-ed or conversation with a congress member’s staff. Also, a premise here is that there are urgent needs we want the public sector to spend more on. Apart from the last couple, these are not arguments for more public dbet as an end in itself.)

 

Why might larger budget deficits be ok?

There are a number of reasons why economists, policymakers and advocates believe that increased public borrowing is not something to be afraid of. As I’ll discuss below, the fundamental factor linking most of these reasons is the idea that the US economy is generally operating below capacity.

When we think about the fiscal balance – the difference between government spending and government revenue – we always have to keep in mind that it has two sides: the real side and the financial side. Whenever the government increases spending, it has two kinds of effects. First, all else equal, it increases the amount of government debt in circulation. And second, it increases demand for goods and services, both directly when the government buys them and indirectly as government spending creates incomes for private businesses and households. 

To put it another way, for government to successfully raise spending without raising taxes, two things have to be true. First, someone – banks, wealthy families, foreign countries – has to be willing to hold the additional debt that the government issues. And second, someone has to be prepared to sell whatever it is that the government is trying to buy. If we are asking what kinds of limits there might be to deficit spending, we have to think about both sides. A government’s spending may face financial constraints, if people are unwilling to hold more of its debt; or real constraints, if the economy cannot produce the additional goods and services it is trying to buy.

Some people who think higher deficits are not a problem – particularly those associated with Modern Monetary Theory – believe that the US federal government never faces financial constraints, so only the real constraints matter. Others believe that the federal government might in principle face financial constraints, but there are good reasons to think that they are not an issue today. For policy purposes, the difference between these positions may not be very important.

On the real constraint side, the essential question is how close the economy is to potential output, or full employment. (The two terms are used interchanegably.) In an economy operating at potential, government can only increase its spending f the private sector reduces its spending. This “crowding out” is the real cost of increased public spending. In an economy below potential, on the other hand, the goods and services purchased by increased public spending come from mobilizing unused productive capacity, so there is no crowding out. In. fact, if the fiscal multiplier is big enough (greater than one) then increased purchases of goods and services by the public sector will result in more goods and services being purchased by the private sector as well.

Below, I lay out a baker’s dozen of related arguments for why, from a macroeconomic perspective, we should welcome increased debt-financed public spending. Some people who believe in greater public borrowing would accept all of these arguments; some only some of them. 

Real-economy arguments for more public borrowing

1. The economy generally operates below potential. Over the past 30 years, there have been three recessions, each followed by a long period of weak growth and high unemployment. By official measures, in 10 of the past 30 years GDP has been at least two points below potential; there have been only six months when it was more than two points above potential. And there has been no periods of high inflation. This suggests that in general, the economy is not running at full capacity; there is additional productive potential that could be mobilized by higher public spending, without crowding out private spending. In that sense, there is no real cost to higher public spending, and no need top offset it with higher taxes. Even better, higher public spending will help close the output gap and raise private spending as well.

2. There are long run forces pushing down demand. Larry Summers famously reintroduced into the economic conversation the idea of secular stagnation – that there is a long-run tendency for private spending to fall short of the economy’s productive potential. There are many reasons we might expect private spending to be lower, relative to national income, in the future than in the past. Among these: increased monopoly power; the shift toward information-based rather than resource-intensive production; increased shareholder power; a more unequal distribution of income; slower population growth; and the satiation of demand for market consumption, in favor of leisure and nonmarket activities. (The first three of these factors tend to reduce investment spending, the last  three consumption spending.)  If this idea is correct, the demand shortfalls of the past thirty years are not an anomaly, and we should expect them to grow larger in the future.

3. Potential output is mismeasured; we are still well below it. Even by the conventional measures of unemployment and potential output, the US economy has spent far more time in recent decades below target than above it. But if the target is mismeasured, the problem may be even worse. There are good reasons to think that both productivity and laborforce growth over the past decade have been depressed by weak demand. If this is the case, the US economy even at the height of a supposed boom, may in fact be operating well below potential today. The fact that  even with measured unemployment below 4 percent wage growth has accelerated only modestly, and inflation has not accelerated at all, is important evidence for this view.

4. Recessions and jobless recoveries have occurred repeatedly in past, will occur again in the future. Whether or not the US economy is at potential today, the current expansion will not continue forever. Recessions have occurred in the past and will occur in the future. Many forecasts believe there is a high risk of recession is likely in the relatively near future; the fact that the Fed is moving toward cutting rates suggests that they share this view. When thinking about what fiscal balance is appropriate, we need to consider not just where the economy is today but where it is likely to be in coming years.

5. Monetary policy is not effective at maintaining full employment. In the past, weak demand and recessions weren’t considered an argument for more public spending because it was assumed that a central bank following the correct policy rule could quickly return the economy to full employment. But it is increasingly clear that central banks do not have the tools (and perhaps the willingness) to precent extended periods of weak demand. It is increasingly recognized that fiscal policy is also required to stabilize demand. In his July testimony before Congress, Fed chair Jerome Powell said explicitly that in the event of another deep recession, the Fed would need help from fiscal policy. One important reason for this is the problem of the zero lower bound – since the policy interest rate cannot be set below zero, there is a limit to how far the Fed can lower it in a recession.

6. It’s hard to ramp up public spending quickly in recession. Orthodox opinion has long been that fiscal policy is not as effective as monetary policy in a recession because it takes much longer to ramp up public spending than to cut interest rates. While the experience of the Great Recession undermined conventional wisdom on many points, it supported it on this one. The ARRA stimulus bill was supposed to direct spending to “shovel-ready” projects, but in fact the majority of the infrastructure spending funded by the bill came several years after it passed. There are many institutional obstacles to increasing public spending rapidly. This means that if we need higher public spending in a recession, the best thing is to have higher spending all the time. If that leads to an overheating economy in the boom, that is an easier problem for the Fed to solve then a deep recession.

7. The costs of getting demand wrong are not symmetrical. Traditionally policymakers have defined their goal as keeping output as close to potential as possible. But it is increasingly clear that the costs of demand falling short are greater than the costs of demand overshooting potential. One reason for this is the previous point – that conventional policy has an easier time reining in excessive demand than stimulating weak demand. (As the old saying has it, “you can’t push on a string.”) A second reason is that demand has effects that go beyond the level of output. In particular, strong demand and low unemployment redistribute income toward workers from owners, and toward lower-wage workers in particular. Periods of weak demand, conversely, reduce the share of income going to workers. If we think the upward redistribution of income over the past generation is a problem, we should prefer to let demand overshoot potential than fall short of it.

8. Weak demand may have permanent effects on potential output. Traditionally, economists saw the economy’s long-term growth as being completely independent of demand conditions. People spending more money might raise production and employment today, but the long-term growth of potential output depended on structural factors – demographics, technological change, and so on. More recently, however, there has been renewed interest in the idea that weak demand can reduce potential output, an effect known as hysteresis. high unemployment may lead more people to drop out of the laborforce, while low unemployment may lead more people to enter the laborforce (or immigrate from abroad.) Strong demand may also lead to faster productivity growth. If hysteresis is real, then demand shortfalls don’t reduce output and employment this year, but potentially many years in the future as well. This is another reason to be more worried about demand falling short than overshooting, hence another reason to prefer a more expansionary fiscal stance, which normally implies more public borrowing.

Financial arguments for more public borrowing

9. With low interest rates, debt does not snowball. Traditionally, concerns about the financing of government spending have focused on whether debt is “sustainable” – whether debt levels will stabilize as a fraction of GDP, or rise without limit. When interest rates are greater than GDP growth rates, this implies a hard limit to government borrowing – to keep the debt-GDP ratio on a stable path, a deficit in one year must be made up for by a larger surplus in a future year. Otherwise, the interest on the existing debt will imply more and more borrowing, with the debt-GDP ratio rising without limit. But when interest rates on government debt are below growth rates, as they have been for the past 25 years, the debt ratio will stabilize on its own – deficits do not have to be offset with surpluses. This makes much of the earlier concern with debt sustainability obsolete.

10. There is good reason to think interest rates will remain low. There are a number of reasons to think that interest rates on public debt are likely to remain low, even if debt ratios rise considerably higher. First, low interest rates reflect the conditions of chronic weak demand discussed above, for two reasons. First, low investment means less demand for borrowed funds. And second, weak demand means that the interest rate set by the central bank is likely to be low. A second reason to expect low interest rates to continue is that the past ten years have repeatedly falsified predictions of bond vigilantes driving up the rates on government debt. Prior to the financial crisis of 2007-2008, many observers expected a catastrophic flight by investors away from US government debt and the dollar, but in fact, the crisis saw a steep fall interest rates on government debt and a rise in the dollar, as investors all over the world rushed to the safety of Treasury debt. Similarly, in Europe, even in the worst crisis-hit countries like Greece, interest rates are at their lowest point in history. Similarly Japan, with one of the highest debt0-GDP ratios ever recorded (about triple that of the US) continues to borrow at very low rats. Third, the experience of the past ten years have made it clear that even if investors were to demand higher interest rates on government debt, modern central banks can easily overcome this. The most dramatic illustration of this came in the summer of 2012, when a public statement by European Central bank chief Mario Draghi “we will do whatever it takes, and believe me, it will be enough”) reversed the spike in interest rates in countries like Italy, Spain and Portugal practically overnight. Finally, the prices of bonds — with hardly any premium for 30 year bonds over 5 and 10 year maturities — show that private investors do not expect a rise in interest rates any time in the foreseeable future.

11. With hysteresis, higher public borrowing can pay for itself. Even if we are concerned about lowering the debt-GDP ratio, the existence of hysteresis (point 8 above) means that cutting public borrowing is necessarily the right way to get there. In a world where the long-term path of GDP depends on aggregate demand, austerity can be self-defeating even in its own narrow financial terms. If lower public spending reduces demand, then it can lead to lower GDP, potentially raising the debt to GDP ratio even if it succeeds in reducing debt. Greece offers a clear example of this – the fiscal surpluses between 2010 and 2015 succeeded in reducing government debt by 5 percent, but the deep austerity contributed to a fall in GDP of 25 percent. So the debt-GDP ratio actually rose. Similarly, if debt-financed public spending leads to faster growth, the debt-GDP ratio may end up lower than otherwise. 

12. Federal debt is an important asset for financial markets. The points up to now have been arguments for why higher public debt is acceptable. But there is also an argument that increased public debt would be a positive good. Financial markets depend on Treasury debt as a safe, liquid asset. Federal government debt offers an absolutely safe asset that can always be sold quickly and at a predictable price – something that is extremely valuable for banks and other financial institutions. There is a strong argument that the growth of the mortgage-backed security market in the 2000s was fundamentally driven by a scarcity of government debt – many financial institutions wanted (or were compelled by regulation) to hold a substantial amount of ultrasafe, liquid debt, and there was not enough government debt in circulation to meet this demand. So financial markets came up with mortgage-backed securities as a supposed alternative – with disastrous results. Similarly, after the recession, one argument for why the recovery was so slow was a “safe asset shortage” – financial institutions were unwilling to make risky loans without  holdings of ultrasafe assets to balance them. While these concerns have receded today, there is still good reason to expect a “flight to safety” toward Treasury debt in the event of a new crisis, and government debt remains important for settling many financial contracts and pricing other assets. So strange as it may sound, there is a serious argument – made by, among others, Nobel prize winner Jean Tirole in his book on financial liquidity — that increased government borrowing would make the financial system more stable and increase access to credit for other borrowers.

13. Federal debt is an important asset for the rest of the world. Federal debt is an important asset not just for the US financial system, but for the rest of the world. In today’s dollar-based international system, the great majority of international trade and investment is denominated in dollars, and most foreign-exchange transactions involve dollars. As a result, central banks (and private financial institutions) all over the world hold foreign-exchange reserves primarily in the form of dollars. These dollar reserves are mainly held in the form of Treasury debt. Close to half of federal debt is now held abroad, mainly as reserves by foreign governments. These holdings are essential for the stability of the international financial system – without adequate reserves, countries are vulnerable to sudden flows of “hot money” out of their countries. As Barry Eichengreen – perhaps the leading economic historian of the international financial system, — has noted, a deep market for government is an essential requirement for a currency to serve as the global reserve currency. If the US is going to be a responsible partner for the rest of the world — and continue reaping the benefits of being at the center of the global economy — it needs to provide an adequate supply of safe government debt for the rest of the world to hold as reserves.

 (I wrote this document for internal use at the Roosevelt Institute. Figured I might as well put it up here as well. Obviously it would benefit from links to supporting material, which I may add at some point.)

New Piece on MMT

Arjun Jayadev and I have a new piece up at the Institute for New Economic Thinking, trying to clarify the relationship between Modern Monetary Theory (MMT) and textbook macroeconomics. (There is also a pdf version here, which I think is a bit more readable.) I will have a blogpost summarizing the argument later today or tomorrow, but in the meantime here is the abstract:

An increasingly visible school of heterodox macroeconomics, Modern Monetary Theory (MMT), makes the case for functional finance—the view that governments should set their fiscal position at whatever level is consistent with price stability and full employment, regardless of current debt or deficits. Functional finance is widely understood, by both supporters and opponents, as a departure from orthodox macroeconomics. We argue that this perception is mistaken: While MMT’s policy proposals are unorthodox, the analysis underlying them is largely orthodox. A central bank able to control domestic interest rates is a sufficient condition to allow a government to freely pursue countercyclical fiscal policy with no danger of a runaway increase in the debt ratio. The difference between MMT and orthodox policy can be thought of as a different assignment of the two instruments of fiscal position and interest rate to the two targets of price stability and debt stability. As such, the debate between them hinges not on any fundamental difference of analysis, but rather on different practical judgements—in particular what kinds of errors are most likely from policymakers.

Read the rest here or here.

Readings: A Couple New Papers on Fiscal Policy

From the NBER working paper series — essential reading if you want to follow what the mainstream of the profession is up to — here are a couple interesting recent papers on fiscal policy. They offer some genuinely valuable insights, while also demonstrating the limits of orthodoxy.

Geographic Cross-Sectional Fiscal Spending Multipliers: What Have We Learned?
Gabriel Chodorow-Reich
NBER Working Paper No. 23577

Gabriel Chodorow-Reich has a useful new entry in the burgeoning literature on the empirics of fiscal multipliers — a review of the now-substantial work on state-level multipliers. Most of these papers are based on spending under the 2009 stimulus (the ARRA) — since many components of its spending were set by formulas not responsive to local economic conditions, cross-state variation can reasonably be considered exogenous. (Another reason the ARRA features so heavily in these papers is, of course, that the revival of mainstream interest in fiscal multipliers is mostly a post-crisis phenomenon.) Other studies estimate local multipliers based on  other public spending with plausibly exogenous regional variation, such as that involved in a military buildup or response to a natural disaster.

How do these local multipliers translate into the national multiplier we are usually more interested in? There are two main differences, pointing in opposite directions. On the one hand, states are more open than the US as a whole (or than other large countries, though perhaps not more than small European countries). This means more spillover of demand across borders, meaning a smaller multiplier. On the other hand, since states don’t conduct their own monetary policy (and since the US banking system is no longer partitioned by state) the usual channels of crowding out don’t operate at the state level. This implies a bigger multiplier. It’s hard to say which of these effects is bigger in general, but when interest rates are constrained, by the zero lower bound for example, crowding out doesn’t happen by that channel at the national level either. So at the zero lower bound, Chodorow-Reich argues, the national multiplier should be unambiguously greater than the average state multiplier.

Based on the various studies he discusses (including a couple of his own), he estimates a state-level multiplier of 1.8.  He subtracts an arbitrary tenth of a point to allow for financial crowding out even at the ZLB, giving a value of 1.7 as a lower bound for the national multiplier. This is toward the high end of existing estimates. For whatever reason, Chodorow-Reich makes no effort to even guess at the impact of the greater openness of state-level economies. But if we suppose that the typical import share at the state level is double the national import share, then a back-of-the-envelope calculation suggests that a state-level multiplier of 1.7 implies a national multiplier somewhere above 2.0. [1]

It’s a helpful paper, offering some more empirical support for the new view of fiscal policy that seems to be gradually displacing the balanced-budget orthodoxy of the past generation. But it must be said that it is one of those papers that presents some very interesting empirical results and is evidently attempting to deal with a concrete, policy-relevant question about economic reality — but that seems to devote a disproportionate amount of energy to making its results intelligible within mainstream theory. We’ll really have made progress when this kind of work can be published without a lot of apologies for the use of “non-Ricardian agents.”

The Dire Effects of the Lack of Monetary and Fiscal Coordination
Francesco Bianchi, Leonardo Melosi
NBER Working Paper No. 23605

The subordination of real-world insight to theoretical toy-train sets is much worse in this paper. But there is a genuine insight in it — that when you have a fiscal authority targeting the debt-GDP ratio and a monetary authority targeting inflation (or equivalently, unemployment or the output gap), then when they are independent their actions can create destabilizing feedback loops. In the simple case, suppose the monetary authority responds to higher inflation by raising interest rates. This raises debt service costs, forcing the fiscal authority to reduce spending or raise taxes to meet its debt target. The contractionary effect of this fiscal shift will have to be offset by the central bank lowering rates. This process may converge toward the unique combination of fiscal balance and interest rate at which both inflation and debt ratio are at their desired levels. But as Arjun Jayadev and I have shown, it can also diverge, with the interactions the actions of each authority provoking more and more violent responses from the other.

I’m glad to see some mainstream people recognizing this problem. As the authors note, the basic point was made by Michael Woodford. (Unsurprisingly, they don’t cite this recent paper by Peter Skott and Soon Ryoo, which carefully works through the possible dynamics between the two policy rules. [2]) The implications, as the NBER authors correctly state, are, first, that fiscal policy and monetary policy have to be seen as jointly affecting both the output gap and the public debt; and that if preventing a rising debt ratio is an important goal of policy, holding down interest rates and/or allowing a higher inflation rate are useful tools for achieving it. Unfortunately, the paper doesn’t really develop these ideas — the meat of it is a mathematical exercise showing how these results can occur in the world of a representative agent maximizing its utility over infinite time, if you set up the frictions just right.

 

[1] For the simplest case, suppose the multiplier is equal to (1-m)[1/(1-mpc)], where m is the marginal propensity to import and mpc is the marginal propensity to consume. Then if the state level import propensity is 0.4 and the state level multiplier is 1.7, that implies an mpc of 0.65. Combine that with a national import propensity of 0.2 and you get a national multiplier of 2.3.

[2] The paper was published in Metroeconomica in 2016, but I’m linking to the unpaywalled 2015 working paper version.