the continuing crisis – Page 4

The Nonexistent Rise in Household Consumption

Did you know that about 10 percent of private consumption in the US consists of Medicare and Medicaid? Despite the fact that these are payments by the government to health care providers, they are counted by the BEA both as income and consumption spending for households.

I bet you didn’t know that. I bet plenty of people who work with the national income accounts for a living don’t know that. I know I didn’t know it, until I read this new working paper by Barry Cynamon and Steve Fazzari.

I’ve often thought that the best macroeconomics is just accounting plus history. This paper is an accounting tour de force. What they’ve done is go through the national accounts and separate out the components of household income and expenditure that represent cashflows received and made by households, from everything else.

Most people don’t realize how much of what goes into the headline measures of household income and household consumption does not actually correspond to any flow of money to or from households. In 2011 (the last year covered by the paper), personal consumption expenditure was given as just over $10 trillion. But of that, only about $7.5 trillion was money spent by households on goods and services. Of the rest, as of 2011:

– $1.2 trillion was imputed rents on owner-occupied housing. The national income and product accounts treat housing on the principle that the real output of housing should be the same whether or not the person living in the house happens to be the same person who owns it. So for owner-occupied housing, they impute an “owner equivalent rent” that the resident is implicitly paying to themselves for use of the house. This sounds reasonable, but it conflicts with another principle of the national accounts, which is that only market transactions are recorded. It also creates measurement problems since most owned residences are single-family homes, for which there isn’t a big rental market, so the BEA has to resort to various procedures to estimate what the rent should be. One result of the procedures they use is that a rise in hoe prices, as in the 2000s, shows up as a rise in consumption spending on imputed rents even if no additional dollars change hands.

– $970 billion was Medicare and Medicaid payments; another $600 billion was employer purchases of group health insurance. The official measures of household consumption are constructed as if all spending on health benefits took the form of cash payments, which they then chose to spend on health care. This isn’t entirely crazy as applied to employer health benefits, since presumably workers do have some say in how much of their compensation takes the form of cash vs. health benefits; tho one wouldn’t want to push that assumption that too far. But it’s harder to justify for public health benefits. And, justifiable or not, it means the common habit of referring to personal consumption expenditure as “private” consumption needs a large asterix.

– $250 billion was imputed bank services. The BEA assumes that people accept below-market interest on bank deposits only as a way of purchasing some equivalent service in return. So the difference between interest from bank deposits and what it would be given some benchmark rate is counted as consumption of banking services.

– $400 billion in consumption by nonprofits. Nonprofits are grouped with the household sector in the national accounts. This is not necessarily unreasonable, but it creates confusion when people assume the household sector refers only to what we normally think of households, or when people try to match up the aggregate data with surveys or other individual-level data.

Take these items, plus a bunch of smaller ones, and you have over one-quarter of reported household consumption that does not correspond to what we normally think of as consumption: market purchases of goods and services to be used by the buyer.

The adjustments are even more interesting when you look at trends over time. Medicare and Medicaid don’t just represent close to 10 percent of reported “private” consumption; they represent over three quarters of the increase in consumption over the past 50 years. More broadly, if we limit “consumption” to purchases by households, the long term rise in household consumption — taken for granted by nearly everyone, heterodox or mainstream — disappears.

By the official measure, personal consumption has risen from around 60 percent of GDP in the 1950s, 60s and 70s, to close to 70 percent today. While there are great differences in stories about why this increase has taken place, almost everyone takes for granted that it has. But if you look at Cynamon and Fazzari’s measure, which reflects only market purchases by households themselves, there is no such trend. Consumption declines steadily from 55 percent of GDP in 1950 to around 47 percent today. In the earlier part of this period, impute rents for owner occupied housing are by far the biggest part of the difference; but in more recent years third-party medical expenditures have become more important. Just removing public health care spending from household consumption, as shown in the pal red line in the figure, is enough to change a 9 point rise in the consumption share of GDP into a 2 point rise. In other words, around 80 percent of the long-term rise in household consumption actually consists of public spending on health care.

In our “Fisher dynamics” paper, Arjun Jayadev and I showed that the rise in debt-income ratios for the household sector is not due to any increase in household borrowing, but can be entirely explained by higher interest rates relative to income growth and inflation. For that paper, we wanted to adjust reported income in the way that Fazzari and Cynamon do here, but we didn’t make a serious effort at it. Now with their data, we can see that not only does the rise in household debt have nothing to do with any household decisions, neither does the rise in consumption. What’s actually happened over recent decades is that household consumption as a share of income has remained roughly constant. Meanwhile, on the one hand disinflation and high interest rates have increased debt-income ratios, and on the other hand increased public health care spending and, in the 2000s high home prices, have increased reported household consumption. But these two trends have nothing to do with each other, or with any choices made by households.

There’s a common trope in left and heterodox circles that macroeconomic developments in recent decades have been shaped by “financialization.” In particular, it’s often argued that the development of new financial markets and instruments for consumer credit has allowed households to choose higher levels of consumption relative to income than they otherwise would. This is not true. Rising debt over the past 30 years is entirely a matter of disinflation and higher interest rates; there has been no long run increase in borrowing. Meanwhile, rising consumption really consists of increased non-market activity — direct provision of housing services through owner-occupied housing, and public provision of health services. This is if anything a kind of anti-financialization.

The Fazzari and Cynamon paper has radical implications, despite its moderate tone. It’s the best kind of macroeconomics. No models. No econometrics. Just read the damn tables, and think about what the numbers mean.

The Cash and I

Martin Wolf in the FT the other day:

The third challenge is over the longer-term sources of demand. I look at this issue in terms of the sectoral financial balances – the balances between income and spending – in the household, business, external and government sectors. The question, then, is where expansion will come from. In the first quarter of this year the principal offset to fiscal contraction was the declining household surplus.

What is needed, as well, is a big swing towards surplus in the US current account or a jump in corporate investment, relative to retained profits. Neither seems imminent, though the second seems more likely than the first. The worry is that the only way to balance the economy will be via big new bubbles. If so, this is not the fault of the Fed. It is the fault of structural features of the domestic and global economies…

This is a good point, which should be made more. If we compare aggregate expenditure today to expenditure just before the recession, it is clear that the lower level of demand today is all about lower consumption. But maybe that’s not the best comparison, because during the housing boom period, consumption was historically high. If we take a somewhat longer view, what’s unusually low today is not household consumption, but business investment. Weak demand is about I, not C.

This is especially clear when we compare investment by businesses to what they are receiving in the form of profits, or, better cashflow from operations — after-tax profits plus depreciation. [1] Here is the relationship over the past 40 years:

Corporate Investment and Cashflow from Operations as Fraction of Total Assets, 1970-2012

The graph shows annualized corporate investment and cashflow, normalized by total assets. Each dot is data from one quarter; to keep the thing legible, I’ve only labeled the fourth quarter of each year. As you can see, there used to be a clear relationship between corporate profitability and corporate investment. For every additional $150, more or less, that a corporation took in from operations, it would increase capital expenditures by $100. This relationship held consistently through the 1960s (not shown), the 1970s, the 1980s and 1990s.

But now look at the past ten years, the period after 2001Q4. Corporate investment rates are substantially lower throughout this period than at any earlier time (averaging around 3.5% of total assets, compared with 5% of assets for 1960-2001). And the relationship between aggregate profit and investment rates has simply disappeared.

Some people might say that the problem is in the financial system, that even profitable businesses can’t borrow because of a breakdown in intermediation, a shortage of liquidity, an unwillingness of risk-averse investors to hold their debt, etc. I don’t buy this story for a number of reasons, some of which I’ve laid out in recent posts here. But it at least has some certain prima facie plausibility for the period following the great financial crisis. Not for for the whole decade-plus since 2001. Saying that investment is low today because businesses can’t find anyone to buy their bonds is merely wrong. Saying that’s why investment was low in 2005 is absurd.

(And remember, these are aggregates, so they mainly reflect the largest corporations, the ones that should have the least problems borrowing.)

So what’s a better story?

I am going to save my full answer for another post. But regular readers will not be surprised that I think the key is a shift in the relationship between corporations and shareholders. I think there’s a sense in which the binding constraint on investment has changed from the terms on which management can get funds into the corporation, from profits or borrowing, to the terms are on which they can keep them from going out, to investors. But the specific story doesn’t matter so much here. You can certainly imagine other explanations. Like, “the China price” — even additional capacity that would be profitable today won’t be added if it there’s a danger of lower-cost imports entering that market.

The point of this post is just that corporate investment is historically low, both in absolute terms and relative to profitability. And because this has been true for a decade, it is hard to attribute this weakness to credit constraints, or believe that it will be responsive to monetary policy. (This is even more true when you recall that the link between corporate borrowing and investment has also essentially disappeared.) By contrast, household consumption remains high. I have the highest respect for Steve Fazzari, and agree that high income inequality is a key metric of the fucked-upness of our economy. But I don’t think it makes sense to think of the current situation in terms of a story where high inequality reduces demand by holding down consumption.

Consumption is red, on the right scale; investment is blue, on the left. Both as shares of GDP.

As I say, I’ll come back in a future post to my on preferred explanation for why a comparably profitable firm, facing comparable credit conditions, will invest less today than 20 or 30 years ago.

In the meantime, one other thing. That first graph is a nice tool for showing how a Marxist thinks about business cycles.

If you look at the graph carefully, you’ll see the points follow counterclockwise loops. It’s natural to see this as cycles. Like this:

Start from the bottom of a cycle, at a point like 1992. A rise in profits from whatever source leads to higher investment, mainly as a source of funds and but also because it raises expectations of future profitability. That’s the lower right segment of the cycle. High investment eventually runs into supply constraints, typically in the form of a rising wage share.[1] At that point profits begin to fall. Investment, however, continues high for a while, as the credit system allows firms to bridge a growing financing gap. That’s the upper right segment of the cycle. Eventually, though, if profits don’t recover, investment will follow them downward. This turning point often involves a financial crisis and/or abrupt fall in asset values, like the collapse of tech stocks in 2000. This is the upper left segment of the cycle. Finally, in the lower left, both profits and investment are low. But after some time the conditions for profitability are restored, and we move toward the right and begin a new cycle. This last step is less reliable than the others. It’s quite possible for the economy to come to rest at the lower left and wobble there for a while without any sustained change in either profits or investment. We see this in 2002-2003 and in 1988-1991.

(I think the investment boom of the late 70s and the persistent slump of the early 1990s are two of the more neglected episodes in recent economic history. The period around 1990, in particular, seems to have all the features that are supposed to be distinctive to the current macroeconomic conjuncture. At the time, people even called it a balance-sheet recession!)

For now, though, we’re not interested in the general properties of cycles. We’re interested in how flat and low the most recent two are, compared with earlier ones. That is the structural feature that Martin Wolf is pointing to. And it’s not a new feature of the post financial crisis period, it’s been the case for a dozen years at least, only temporarily obscured by the housing bubble.

UPDATE: In comments, Seth Ackerman asks if maybe using total assets to normalize investment and profits is distorting the picture. It’s a good question, but the answer is no. Here’s the same thing, with trend GDP in the denominator instead:

As you can see, the picture is basically the same. Investment in the 200s is still visibly depressed compared with earlier decades, and the relationship between profits and investment is much weaker. Of course, it’s always possible that current high profits will lead an investment boom in the next few years…

[1] Cash from operations is better than profits for at least two reasons. First, from the point of view of aggregate demand, we are interested in gross not net investment. A dollar of investment stimulates demand just as much whether it’s replacing old equipment or adding new. So our measure of income should also be gross of depreciation. Second, there are major practical and conceptual issues with measuring depreciation. Changes in accounting standards may result in very different official depreciation numbers in economically identical situations. By combining depreciation and profits, we avoid the problem of the fuzzy and shifting line between them, making it more likely that we are comparing equivalent quantities.

[2] A rising wage share need not, and often does not, take the form of rising real wages. In recent cycles especially, it’s more likely to combine flat real wages with a rising relative cost of wage goods.

Tell Me About that “Safe Asset Shortage” Again

From today’s FT:

US Junk Debt Yield Hits Historic Low

The average yield on US junk-rated debt fell below 5 per cent for the first time on Monday, setting yet another milestone in a multiyear rally and illustrating the massive demand for fixed income returns as central banks suppress interest rates.

Junk bonds and equities often move in tandem, and with the S&P 500 rising above 1,600 points for the first time and sitting on a double digit gain this year, speculative rated corporate bonds are also on a tear. … With corporate default rates below historical averages, investors are willing to overlook the weaker credit quality in exchange for higher returns on the securities, analysts said. … The demand for yield has become the major driver of investor behaviour this year, as they downplay high valuations for junk bonds and dividend paying stocks.

“Maybe the hurdles of 6 per cent and now 5 per cent on high-yield bonds are less relevant given the insatiable demand for income,” said Jim Sarni, managing principal at Payden & Rygel. “People need income and they are less concerned about valuations.”

In other words, the demand for risky assets is exceptionally high, and this has driven up their price. Or to put it the other way, if you are a high-risk corporate borrower, now is a very good time to be looking for a loan.

Here’s the same thing in a figure. Instead of their absolute yield, this shows the spread of junk bonds over AAA:

Difference between CCC- and AAA bond yields

See how high it is now, over on the far right? Yeah, me neither. But if the premium for safe assets is currently quite low, how can you say that it is a shortage of safe assets that is holding back the recovery? If financial markets are willing to lend money to risky borrowers on exceptionally generous terms, how can you say the problem is a shortage of risk-bearing capacity?

Now, the shortage-of-safe-assets story does fit the acute financial crisis period. There was a period in late 2008 and early 2009 when banks were very wary of holding risky assets, and this may have had real effects. (I say “may” because some large part of the apparent fall in the supply of credit in the crisis was limited to banks’ unwillingness to lend to each other.) But by the end of 2009, the disruptions in the financial markets were over, and by all the obvious measures credit was as available as before the crisis. The difference is that now households and firms wished to borrow less. So, yes, there was excess demand for safe assets in the crisis itself; but since then, it seems to me, we are in a situation where all markets clear, just at a lower level of activity.

This is a perfect illustration of the importance of the difference between the intertemporal optimization vision of modern macro, and the income-expenditure vision of older Keynesian macro. In modern macro, it is necessarily true that a shortfall of demand for currently produced goods and services is equivalent to an excess demand for money or some other asset that the private sector can’t produce. Or as DeLong puts it:

If you relieve the excess demand for financial assets, you also cure the excess supply of goods and services (the shortfall of aggregate demand) and the excess supply of labor (mass unemployment).

Because what else can people spend their (given, lifetime) income on, except currently produced stuff or assets? If they want less of one, that must mean they want more of the other.

In the Keynesian vision, by contrast, there’s no fixed budget — no endowment — to be allocated. People don’t know their lifetime income; indeed, there is no true expected value of future income out there for them to know. So households and businesses adjust current spending based on current income. Which means that all markets can clear at a various different levels of aggregate activity. Or in other words, people can rationally believe they are on their budget constraint at different levels of expenditure, so there is no reason that a decline in desired expenditure in one direction (currently produced stuff) has to be accompanied by an increase in some other direction (safe assets or money).

(This is one reason why fundamental uncertainty is important to the Keynesian system.)

For income-expenditure Keynesians, it may well be true that the financial meltdown triggered the recession. But that doesn’t mean that an ongoing depression implies an ongoing credit crisis. Once underway, a low level of activity is self-reinforcing, even if financial markets return to a pristine state and asset markets all clear perfectly. Modern macro, on the other hand, does need a continued failure in financial markets to explain output continuing to fall short of potential. So they imagine a “safe asset shortage” even when the markets are shouting “safe asset glut.”

EDIT: I made this same case, more convincingly I think, in this post from December about credit card debt. The key points are (1) current low demand is much more a matter of depressed consumption than depressed investment; (2) it’s nonsense to say that households suffer from a shortage of safe assets since they face an infinitely-elastic supply of government-guaranteed bank deposits, the safest, most liquid asset there is; (3) while it’s possible in principle for a safe-asset shortage to show up as an unwillingness of financial intermediaries to hold household debt, the evidence is overwhelming that the fall in household borrowing is driven by demand, not supply. The entire fall in credit card debt is accounted for by defaults and reduced applications; the proportion of credit card applications accepted, and the average balance per card, have not fallen at all.

Deleveraging by Default

The new Household Credit and Debt Report came out last week from the New York Fed. Fun!

The stuff about student debt got the scary headlines, and with reason — especially once you notice that the 17 percent delinquency rate on student debt, bad enough, understates the problem, since that figure includes debt on which no payment is due:

when we remove the estimated 44 percent of all borrowers for whom no payment is due or the payment is too small to offset the accrued interest, the delinquency rate rises to over 30 percent.

Student debt is not really my beat, though, so I want to call attention to something which has gotten less attention: how much household “deleveraging” is really about defaults, rather than reduced borrowing.

The Credit and Debt Report is based on the New York Fed’s Consumer Credit Panel, with the underlying data from the credit bureau Equifax. It’s unique, as far as I know, in its comprehensive coverage of the various flows that make up changes in household liabilities. The Flow of Funds, by contrast, sees household debt only from the creditors’ side, and doesn’t directly observe flows, only changes in stocks of debt. So with this data we can see much more clearly what’s actually driving the fall in household debt-to-income ratios. [1] And here’s what we find:

The heavy lines are the year-end ratios of mortgage and total household debt, respectively, to disposable personal income. The dotted lines are the path these ratios would have followed if defaults were held fixed at their pre 2007 levels. So we see that total household debt peaked at 119 percent of income at the end of 2007, and has since fallen to 100 percent, a substantial decline. But when we break out the various factors accounting for changes in debt — new borrowing, repayment, and default — we find that the fall is entirely the result of higher defaults. If households had continued defaulting on debt at the same rate after 2007 as before, household debt would not have fallen at all. (It is true that since 2009, there has been some deleveraging even net of defaults, but even over those two years two-thirds of the fall in debt-income ratios is due to elevated default rates.) Mortgage debt follows the same pattern: If default rates had continued at their 2003-2006 level, mortgage debt would have been greater, relative to income, at the end of 2011 than at the end of 2007.

It’s interesting to compare the debt writeoffs reported by households with the writeoffs reported by commercial banks. The biggest difference between the two series is that banks report their net losses, i.e. after recoveries. But both show the same dramatic rise in the Great Recession.

As we can see, the two series move more or less together. It’s noteworthy, though, that before the crisis the amount of debt discharged by default was consistently about five times greater than banks’ default losses; after 2007, this ratio dropped to more like like two to one. This represents some mix of lower recovery rates — underwater homes are worth less than their mortgages — and a worse default performance among mortgages owned by entities other than commercial banks.

So why does all this matter? Well, the obvious reason is that we want to get the story of the recent past right. The usual debate about falling debt is how much it’s due to banks’ unwillingness to lend, and how much to households’ unwillingness to borrow. If it’s really due largely to higher default rates, our stories of the financial crisis and its aftermath should reflect that. But they seldom do. Richard Koo, just to pick one example at random, treats changes in household liabilities as simply a measure of household borrowing.

A couple other reasons to care. For one, the role of defaults is further evidence against the idea that demand is being constrained by a lack of access to credit.

More broadly, it’s evident that the relationship between defaults and changes in income is nonlinear. Over a normal business cycle, household defaults are stable and fairly low. (This is not true of business and especially commercial real-estate defaults.) It takes an exceptionally deep fall in income to produce a noticeable rise in household defaults. The macroeconomic significance of this is that defaults, like Koo-style deleveraging, weaken the link between current income and current expenditure; in both cases, a higher share of changes in income show up as changes in the flow of payments to creditors, rather than changes in spending on currently produced goods and services. This dampening of the income-expenditure link helps put a floor under demand fluctuations, as discussed in the previous post (provided that defaults don’t limit other units’ access to credit — this is an important difference between the recent crisis and 1929-1933.) But by the same token it also weakens demand dynamics in the recovery; if a major margin on which households adjust to changes in incomes is changes in payments to creditors, rising incomes will do less to raise demand for current output.

The central importance of defaults in the deleveraging process to date also is a reminder of the importance of the terms on which debt can be discharged. Laws and norms that make default relatively easy can evidently serve as an escape valve that helps prevent the debt deflation process from taking hold.

Looking forward, this is further evidence of how difficult it is to reduce leverage just through lower expenditure. It’s noteworthy here that since 2007, the household sector has had large primary surpluses (i.e. new borrowing is less than interest payments), but in the current environment of slow growth, relatively high real interest rates, and low inflation, this has not been sufficient on its own to produce any fall in leverage. So if lower debt-income ratios are a precondition for sustained growth, more systematic debt writedowns may be necessary. From the conclusion of Arjun’s and my paper:

A recent IMF staff report (Gottschalk et al., 2010) notes that for public sector debt, defaults are most likely to lead a long-term improvement in the fiscal position (and have generally occurred historically) in countries with small primary deficits, or primary surpluses. In such cases unsustainable debt growth is driven by the interaction of high effective interest rates with a large existing debt stock; a one-time reduction in the debt stock can change an unsustainable path to a sustainable one, even if the interest rates on new borrowing rise as a result. A similar logic might apply to private sector debt. If so, some form of systematic debt forgiveness may be the logical, and eventually unavoidable, solution to the problem of excessive household leverage.

Finally, the importance of defaults over the past five years is a reminder that a crisis is precisely a situation when inconsistent expectations cannot be ignored. By definition, in a crisis not all contractual commitments can be fulfilled, and it’s always ultimately a political question which are honored and which are not.

[1] The published report doesn’t include writeoffs, only the fraction of debt that is currently delinquent. To get annual household debt writeoffs, we have to combine the report with the numbers reported by the New York Fed in its Liberty Street blog.

Did We Have a Crisis Because Deficits Were Too Small?

In comments to the previous post on fiscal policy, Steve Roth points to a couple posts from his own (excellent) blog pointing to a similar argument by Randy Wray, that falling ~~federal debt-GDP ratios~~ nominal volumes of government debt have consistently preceded financial crises historically.

Also in comments, Chris Mealy asks,

Isn’t the idea that sufficient government debts will prevent phony safe assets and the financial crises they lead to?

Right, exactly!

A couple years ago, VoxEU ran several good pieces making exactly this argument — that it was the lack of sufficient government debt that spurred the growth of mortgage securitization. Here is one:

The increased demand for US government debt by emerging economy central banks led to lower yields, thus forcing those savers in the OECD countries who would normally have held government assets to frantically “search for returns”. … The AAA tranches on securitised US mortgages … seemed to provide the safety plus a “yield pick up” without any risk…

The key technology that permitted the transformation of US mortgages into safe liquid assets was securitisation. … The massive buying of US government paper by emerging market central banks had displaced other investors whose preference previously had been for safe, short-term, liquid assets. … The excess demand for short-term, safe, liquid assets created by emerging economies’ accumulation of reserves could not have been satisfied by the securitisation of US mortgages (and consumer credit) without massive credit and liquidity “enhancements” by the banking system. …

Looking forward, this analysis implies that the current (smaller but still sizeable) US current account deficit should not lead to similar asset supply and demand mismatches since US households are now starting to save and it is the US government which is running the deficit, thus supplying exactly the kind of assets needed…

And here is another, from an impeccably mainstream author:

The entire world had an insatiable demand for safe debt instruments – including foreign central banks and investors, but also many US financial institutions. This put enormous pressure on the US financial system… The financial sector was able to create micro-AAA assets from the securitisation of lower quality ones, but at the cost of exposing the system to a panic… In this view, the surge of safe-asset demand was a key factor behind the rise in leverage and macroeconomic risk concentration in financial institutions… These institutions sought the profits generated from bridging the gap between this rise in demand and the expansion of its natural supply. …

[Once the crisis began], the underlying structural deficit of safe assets worsened as the … triple-A assets from the securitisation industry dried up and the spike in perceived uncertainty further increased demand for these assets. Safe interest rates plummeted to record low levels. … Global imbalances and their feared sudden reversal never played a significant role for the US during this deep crisis. In fact, the worse things became, the more domestic and foreign investors ran to US Treasuries for cover and treasury rates plummeted (and the dollar appreciated). …

One approach to addressing these issues prospectively would be for governments to explicitly bear a greater share of the systemic risk. … If the governments in asset-producing countries were to do it directly, then they would have to issue bonds beyond their fiscal needs.

The logic is very clear and, to me at least, compelling: For a variety of reasons (including but not limited to reserve accumulation by developing-country central banks) there was an increase in demand for safe, liquid assets, the private supply of which is generally inelastic. The excess demand pushed up the price of the existing stock of safe assets (especially Treasuries), and increased pressure to develop substitutes. (This went beyond the usual pressure to develop new methods of producing any good with a rising price, since a number of financial actors have some minimum yield — i.e. maximum price — of safe assets as a condition of their continued existence.) Mortgage-backed securities were thought to be such substitutes. Once the technology of securitization was developed, you also had a rise in mortgage lending and the supply of MBSs continued growing under its own momentum; but in this story, the original impetus came unequivocally from the demand for substitutes for scarce government debt. It’s very hard to avoid the conclusion that if the US government had only issued more debt in the decade before the crisis, the housing bubble and subsequent crash would have been much milder.

While we’re at it, I can resist reposting the old post where I first mentioned this stuff:

A focus on cyclical stabilization assumes that there is no systematic long-term divergence between aggregate supply and aggregate demand. But Keynes believed that there was a secular tendency toward stagnation in advanced capitalist economies, so that maintaining full employment meant not just using public expenditure to stabilize private investment demand, but to incrementally replace it.

Another way of looking at this is that the steady shift from small-scale to industrial production implies a growing weight of illiquid assets in the form of fixed capital. There is not, however, any corresponding long-term increase in the demand for illiquid liabilities. If anything, the sociological patterns of capitalism point the other way, as industrial dynasties whose social existence was linked to particular enterprises have been steadily replaced by rentiers. The whole line of financial innovations from the first joint-stock companies to the recent securitization boom have been attempts to bridge this gap. But this requires ever-deepening financialization, with all the social waste and instability that implies.

It’s the government’s ability to issue liabilities backed by the whole economic output that makes it uniquely able to satisfy the demands of wealth-holders for liquid assets. In the functional finance tradition going back to Lerner, modern states do not possess a budget constraint in the same way households or firms do. Public borrowing has nothing to do with “funding” spending, it’s all about how much government debt the authorities want the banking system to hold. If the demand for safe, liquid assets rises secularly over time, so should government borrowing.

From this point of view, one important source of the recent financial crisis was the surpluses of the 1990s, and insufficient borrowing by the US government in general. By restricting the supply of Treasuries, this excessive fiscal restraint spurred the creation of private sector substitutes purporting to offer similar liquidity properties, in the form of various asset-backed securities. But these new financial assets remained at bottom claims on specific illiquid real assets and their liquidity remained vulnerable to shifts in (expectations of) the value of those assets.

The response to the crisis in 2008 then consists of the Fed retroactively correcting the undersupply of government liabilities by engaging in a wholesale swap of public for private liabilities, leaving banks (and liquidity-demanding wealth owners) holding government liabilities instead of private financial assets. The increase in public debt wasn’t an unfortunate side-effect of the solution to the financial crisis, it was the solution.

Along the same lines, I sometimes wonder how much the huge proportion of government debt on bank balance sheets — 75 percent of assets in 1945 vs. 1.5 percent in 2005 — contributed to the financial stability of the immediate postwar era. With that many safe assets sloshing around, it didn’t take financial engineering or speculative bubbles to convince banks to hold claims on fixed capital and housing. But as the supply of government debt has dwindled the inducements to hold other assets have had to grow increasingly garish.

From which I conclude that ever-increasing government deficits may in fact be better Keynesianism – theoretically, historically and pragmatically – than countercyclical demand management.

(What’s striking to me, rereading this now, is that when I wrote it I had not read any Leijonhufvud. Yet the argument that capitalism suffers from a chronic oversupply of long, illiquid assets is one of the central messages of Keynesian Economics and the Economics of Keynes — “no mortal being can hold land to maturity,” etc. I got the idea from Minsky, I suppose, or maybe from Michael Perelman, who are both very clear that the specific institutions of capitalism are in many ways in deep tension with the development of long-lived capital goods.)

UPDATE: Hey look, The Economist agrees. I think that means it’s time to move on.

UPDATE 2: So does Joe Weisenthal at the The Business Insider. His argument (and Stephanie Kelton’s) is different from the one here — it focuses on the fact that net savings across sectors have to sum to zero, as opposed to the government’s advantage in providing liquidity. But the fundamental point is the same, that the important thing about the government fiscal position is the implications it has for private balance sheets.

UPDATE 3: Steve R. points out that I misread his posts — Wray’s argument is about the nominal volume of federal debt outstanding, not the debt-GDP ratio. Hmm. I’m not sure I buy that relationship as evidence of anything … but it’s still good to see that Wray is asking this question. Steve also points to this paper, which looks very interesting.

Credit Cards and the Corridor

I don’t know if most people realize how much credit card debt fell during and after the Great Recession. It fell by a lot! Credit card debt outstanding today is about $180 billion, or 21 percent, lower than it was at the end of 2007. This is a 50 percent larger fall than in mortgage debt in percentage terms — though the fall in mortgages is of course much bigger in absolute dollars.

This fall in credit card debt is entirely explained by the drop in the number of credit card accounts, from about 500 million to 380 million. The average balance on open credit card accounts is about the same today as it was when the recession began.

The obvious question is, is this fall in consumer credit due to supply, or demand? Are banks less willing to lend, or are households less eager to borrow?

Here’s some interesting data that helps shed light on this question, from the Fed’s most recent Quarterly Report on Household Credit and Finance.

The red line shows the number of credit card accounts closed over the preceding 12 months, while the blue line shows the number opened. So the gap between the blue and red lines equals the change in the number of accounts. The spike in the red line is mostly write-offs, or defaults. I’ll return to those in a subsequent post; for now let’s look at the blue and green lines. The green line shows the number of inquiries, that is, applications for new cards by consumers. The blue line, again, shows the number issued. As we can see, the number of new accounts tracks the number of inquiries almost exactly. [1] What do we conclude from this? That the fall in the rate at which new credit cards are issued is entirely a matter of reduced demand, not supply. And given that balances on outstanding credit cards have not fallen, it’s hard to avoid the conclusion that banks’ reduced willingness to lend played little or no role in the fall in consumer credit.

Of course one figure isn’t dispositive, and mortgage debt is much more important quantitatively than credit card debt. But Dean Baker has been making a similar argument about mortgages for several years now:

the ratio of applications to [home] sales has not risen notably in this slump, indicating that the inability of potential homebuyers to get mortgages has not been a big factor in the housing downturn.

As a matter of fact, after reading that post (or one of Dean’s many others making the same point), I tried to construct a similar ratio for credit cards, but I wasn’t able to find the data. I didn’t realize then that the Fed publishes it regularly in the household credit report.

Needless to say, the ratio of applications to contracts is hardly the last word on this question, and needless to say there are plenty of more sophisticated attempts out there to disentangle the roles of supply and demand in the fall in borrowing. Rather than get into the data issues in more detail right now, I want to talk about what is at stake. Does it matter whether a fall in borrowing is more driven by the supply of credit or the demand for it? I think it does, both for theory and for policy.

One important question, of course, is the historical one: Did the financial crisis straightforwardly cause the recession by cutting off the supply of credit for nonfinancial borrowers, or were other factors more important? I admit to being agnostic on this question — I do think that credit constraints were dragging down fixed investment in the year or so before the recession officially began, but I’m not sure how important this was quantitatively. But setting aside the historical question, we also need to ask, is the availability of credit the binding constraint on real activity today?

For monetarists and New Keynesians, the answer has to be Yes almost by definition. Here’s DeLong:

There is indeed a “fundamental” configuration of asset prices–one that produces full employment, the optimal level of investment given the time preference of economic agents and the expected future growth of the economy, and the optimal division of investment between safe, moderately risky, and blue-sky projects.

However, right now the private market cannot deliver this “fundamental” configuration of asset prices. The aftermath of the financial crisis has left us without sufficient trusted financial intermediaries … no private-sector agent can create the safe securities that patient and prudent investors wish to hold. The overleverage left in the aftermath of the financial crisis has left a good many investors and financial intermediaries petrified of losing all their money and being forced to exit the game–hence the risk tolerance of the private sector is depressed far below levels that are appropriate given the fundamentals… Until this overleverage is worked off, the private marketplace left to its own will deliver a price of safe assets far above fundamentals … and a level of investment and thus of employment far below the economy’s sustainable and optimal equilibrium.

In such a situation, by issuing safe assets–and thus raising their supply–the government pushes the price of safe assets down and thus closer to its proper fundamental equilibrium value.

In other words, there is a unique, stable, optimal equilibrium for the macroeconomy. All agents know their expected lifetime income and preferred expenditures in that equilibrium. The only reason we are not there, is if some market fails to clear. If there is a shortfall of demand for currently produced output, then there must be excess demand for some asset the private sector cannot produce. In the monetarist version of the story, that asset is money. [2] In DeLong’s version, it’s “safe assets” more generally. But the logic is the same.

This is why DeLong is so confident that continued zero interest rates and QE must work — that it is literally impossible for output to remain below potential if the Fed follows its stated policy for the next three years. If the only reason for the economy to be off its unique, optimal growth path is excess demand for safe assets, then a sufficient increase in the supply of safe assets has to be able to get us back onto it.

But is this right?

Note that in the passage above, DeLong refers to a depressed “level of investment and thus of employment.” That’s how we’re accustomed to think about demand shortfalls, and most of the time it’s a reasonable shorthand — investment (business and residential) generally does drive fluctuations in demand. But it’s not so clear that this is true of the current situation. Here, check this out:

We’re looking at output relative to potential for GDP and its components; I’ve defined potential as 2.5 percent real annual growth from the 2007Q4 peak. [3] What we see here is investment and consumption both fell during the recession proper, but since 2010, investment has recovered strongly and is almost back to trend. The continued output gap is mainly accounted for by the failure of consumption to show any signs of returning to trend — if anything, consumption growth has decelerated further in the recovery.

You can’t explain low household consumption demand in terms of a shortage of safe assets. The safest, most liquid asset available to households is bank deposits, and the supply of these is perfectly elastic. I should note that it is possible (though not necessarily correct) to explain falling consumption this way for the early 1930s, when people were trying to withdraw their savings from banks and convert them into cash. The private sector cannot print bills or mint coins. But classical bank runs are no longer a thing; people are not trying to literally hoard cash; it is impossible that a lack of safe savings vehicles for households is what’s holding down consumption today.

So if we are going to explain the continued consumption shortfall in DeLong’s preferred terms, households must be credit-constrained. It is not plausible that households are restricting consumption in order to bid up the price of some money-like asset in fixed supply. But it is plausible that the lack of trusted financial intermediaries makes investors less willing to hold households’ debt, and that this is limiting some households’ ability to borrow and thus their consumption. In that case, it could be that increasing the supply of safe assets will provide enough of a cushion that investors are again willing to hold risky assets like household debt, and this will allow households to return to their optimal consumption path. That’s the only way DeLong’s story works.

It’s plausible, yes; but is it true? The credit card data is evidence that, no, it is not. If you believe the evidence of that first figure, the fall in consumer borrowing is driven by demand, not supply; continued weakness in consumption is not the result of unwillingness of investors to hold household debt due to excess demand for safe assets. If you believe the figure, investors are no less willing to hold consumer debt than they were before the recession; it’s households that are less willing to borrow.

Again, one figure isn’t dispositive. But what I really want to establish is the logical point: The shortage-of-safe-assets explanation of the continued output gap, and the corollary belief in the efficacy of monetary policy, only makes sense if the weakness in nonfinancial units’ expenditure is due to continued tightness of credit constraints. So every additional piece of evidence that low consumption (and investment, though again investment is not especially low) is not due to credit constraints, is another nail in the coffin of the shortage-of-safe-assets story.

So what’s the alternative? Well, that’s beyond the scope of this post. But basically, it’s this. Rather than assume there is a unique, stable, optimal equilibrium, we say that the macroeconomy has multiple equilibria and/or divergent adjustment dynamics. More specifically, we emphasize the positive feedback between current income and expenditure. For small deviations in income, people and businesses don’t adjust their expenditure, but use credit and and/or liquid assets to maintain it at its normal level. But for large deviations, this buffering no longer takes place, both because of financing constraints and because true lifetime income is uncertain, so people’s beliefs about it change in response to changes in current income.

In other word’s Axel Leijonhufvud’s “corridor of stability”. Within certain bounds (the corridor), the economy experiences stabilizing feedback, based on relative prices; beyond them, it experiences destabilizing feedback based on the income-expenditure link. Within these bounds, the multiplier is weak; outside them, it is “strong enough for effects of shocks to be endogenously amplified. Within the corridor, the prescription is in favor of ‘monetarist,’ outside in favor of ‘fiscalist’, policy prescriptions.”

I’m going to break that thought off here. The important point for now is that if you think that the continued depressed level of real economic activity is due to excess demand for safe assets, you really need evidence that the expenditure of households and businesses is limited by the unwillingness of investors to hold their liabilities, i.e. that they face credit constraints. And this credit card data is one more piece of evidence that they don’t. Which, among other things, makes it less likely that central bank interventions to remove risk from the balance sheets of the financial system will meaningfully boost output and employment.

[1] For some reason, inquiries are given over the past six months while the other two series are given over the past year. This implies that about half of all inquiries result in a new account being opened. The important point for our purposes is that this fraction did not change at all during the financial crisis and recession.

[2] To be fair, you can also find this story in the General Theory — “unemployment develops because people want the moon,” etc. But it’s not the only story you can find there. And, I would argue, Keynes really intends this as a story of how downturns begin, and not why they persist.

[3] Yes, it would be more “correct” to use the BEA’s measure of potential output. But the results would be qualitatively very similar, and I don’t think there’s nearly enough precision in measures of potential output to make the few tenths of a point difference meaningful.

LATE UPDATE: Here is a similar graph for the previous recession & recovery.

In Which I Dare to Correct Felix Salmon

Felix Salmon is my favorite business blogger — super smart, cosmopolitan and impressively unimpressed by the Masters of the Universe he spends his days observing. In general, I’d expect him to be much more on top of current financial data than I am. But in today’s post on the commercial paper market, he makes an uncharacteristic mistake — or rather, uncharacteristic for him but highly characteristic of the larger conversation around finance.

According to Felix:

The commercial paper market has to a first approximation become an entirely financial market, a place for banks and shadow banks to do their short-term borrowing while the interbank market remains closed.

According to David S. Scharfstein of Harvard Business School, who also testified last week, of the 50 largest issuers of debt to money market funds today, only two are nonfinancial firms; the rest are banks and other financial companies, many of them foreign.

Once upon a time, before the financial crisis, money-market funds were a mechanism whereby individual investors could make safe, short-term loans to big corporates, disintermediating the banks. But all that has changed now. For one thing, says Davidoff, “about two-thirds of money market users are sophisticated finance investors”. For another, the corporates have evaporated away, to be replaced by financials. In the corporate world, it seems, the price mechanism isn’t working any more: either you’re a big and safe corporate and don’t want to run the refinancing risk of money-market funds suddenly drying up, or else you’re small enough and risky enough that the money market funds don’t want to lend to you at any price.

I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s right.

Reading Felix, you get the clear impression that before the crisis, or anyway not too long ago, most borrowers in the commercial paper market were nonfinancial corporations. It has only “become an entirely financial market” relatively recently, he suggests, as nonfinancial borrowers have dropped out. But, to me at least, the real picture looks rather different.

Source: Flow of Funds

The graph shows outstanding financial and nonfinancial commercial paper on the left scale, and the financial share of the total on the right scale. As you can see the story is almost the opposite of the one Felix tells. Financial borrowers have always dominated the commercial paper market, and their share has fallen, not risen, in the wake of the financial crisis and recession. Relative to the economy, nonfinancial commercial paper outstanding is close to where it was at the peak of the past cycle. But financial paper is down by almost two-thirds. As a result, the nonfinancial share of the commercial paper market has doubled, from 7 to 15 percent — the highest it’s been since the 1990s.

Why does this matter? Well, of course, it’s important to get these things right. But I think Felix’s mistake here is revealing of a larger problem.

One of the most dramatic features of the financial crisis of fall 2008, bringing the Fed as close as it got to socializing the means of intermediation, was the collapse of the commercial paper market. But as I’ve written here before, it was almost never acknowledged that the collapse was largely limited to financial commercial paper. Nonfinancial borrowers did not lose access to credit in the way that banks and shadow banks did. The gap between the financial and nonfinancial commercial paper markets wasn’t discussed, I believe, because of the way the crisis was seen entirely through the eyes of finance.

I suspect the same thing is happening with the evolution of the commercial paper market in the past few years. The Flow of Funds shows clearly that commercial borrowing by nonfinancial borrowers has held up reasonably well; the fall in commercial paper lending is limited to financial borrowers. But that banks’ problems are everyone’s problems is taken for granted, or at most justified with a pious handwave about the importance of credit to the real economy.

And that’s the second assumption, again usually unstated, at issue here: that providing credit to households and businesses is normally the main activity of finance, with departures from that role an anomalous recent development. But what if the main action in the financial system has never been intermediating between ultimate lenders and borrowers? What if banks have always mostly been, not to put too fine a point on it, parasites?

During the crisis of 2008 one big question was if it was possible to let the big banks fail, or if the consequences for the real economy would be prohibitively awful. On the left, Dean Baker took the first position while Doug Henwood took the second, arguing that the alternative to bailouts could be a second Great Depression. I was ambivalent at the time, but I’ve been moving toward the let-them-fail view. (Especially if the counterfactual is that governments and central banks putting comparable resources into sheltering the real economy from collapsing banks, as they have into propping them up.) The evolution of the commercial paper market looks to me like one more datapoint supporting that view. The collapse of interbank lending doesn’t seem to have affected nonbank borrowers much.

(Which brings us to a larger point, of whether the continued depressed state of the real economy is due to a lack of access to credit. Obviously I think not, but that’s beyond the scope of this post.)

An insidious feature of the world we live in is an unconscious tendency to adopt finance’s point of view. This is as true of intellectuals as of everyone else. An anthropologist of my acquaintance, for instance, did his fieldwork on the New York financial industry. Nothing wrong with that — he’s got some very smart things to say about it — but you really can’t imagine someone doing a similar project on any other industry, apart from high-tech internet stuff. In our culture, finance is just interesting in a way that other businesses are not. I’m not exempting myself from this, by the way. The financial crisis and its aftermath was the most exciting time in memory to be thinking about economics; I’m not going to deny it, it was fun. And there are plenty of people on the left who would say that a tendency, which I confess to, to let the conflict between Wall Street and the real economy displace the conflict between labor and capital in our political language, is a symptom — a kind of reaction-formation — of the same intellectual capture.

But that is perhaps over-broadening the point, which is just this: That someone as smart as Felix Salmon could so badly misread the commercial paper market is a sign of how hard we have to work to distinguish the state of the banks, from the state of the economy.

(How) Was the Problem of Depression-Prevention Solved?

Krugman says that Friedman-style monetarism is really just a special case of postwar Keynesian analysis. I agree. (New Keynesianism in turn is just another name for monetarism.) To get monetarist conclusions out of an ISLM-type model, all you need is an income-elasticity of money demand that is both (a) stable and (b) large relative to the interest-elasticity of money demand.

Of course, for this to work the “money” that’s demanded has to be the same as the “money” that the central bank supplies, which requires a particular, and now largely vanished, kind of financial structure, as we’ve been discussing below. But that’s not what I want to talk about here. Rather, it’s this other bit:

This time the Fed did all that Friedman denounced it for not doing in the 1930s. The fact that this wasn’t enough amounts to a refutation of Friedman’s claim that adequate Fed action could have prevented the Depression.

Do we think this is right? It doesn’t seem right to me. If unemployment in the 1930s had peaked at below 10%, instead of 25%; if industrial production had fallen by one eighth, instead of by over half; if fixed investment had fallen by 20%, instead of by 80% (yes, business investment halted almost entirely in the early 30s); if we’d had one or two quarters of deflation, instead of four years; — then I think we would say that the Depression had indeed been prevented. Krugman is implicitly assuming here today’s economy couldn’t collapse the way it did in the 1930s, but how do we know that’s true?

We always ask, why was the Great Recession so deep? But you could just as well turn the question around and ask why, despite initial appearances, did it turn out to be not nearly as deep as the Depression?

I can think of four families of answers. One is the one that Krugman is implicitly rejecting — that policy was better this time. I think most people who tell this story — including some on the left — would emphasize the rescue of the banking system. Disgusting as it is to see the same smug assholes who caused the crisis handed truckloads of money, if nature had taken its course and the big banks had been allowed to fail, we might really have had a Depression. That’s one story. You might also mention fiscal policy, which, while inadequate, has clearly helped, but it’s hard to see that explaining more than a few points of the difference.

The second answer would be that the sheer size of government makes a Depression-scale collapse of demand impossible, regardless of policy. In 1929, with government final demand only a couple percent of GDP, autonomous spending basically was investment spending, especially if we think at the global level so exports wash out. Today, by contrast, G is significantly larger than I (about 20 vs 15 percent of GDP), so even if private investment had collapsed at the same scale as in 1929-1933, the percentage fall in autonomous demand would have been much less. (And of course that fact alone helped keep private investment from collapsing.) Interestingly, despite Hyman Minsky’s association with stories about finance, this, and not anything to do with the financial system, was why his answer to the question Can “It” Happen Again was, No. Policy is secondary; big government itself is the ballast that stabilizes the economy.

Third would be that the shock in 1929 was greater than the shock in 2007. Of course that would require that you specify the shock, and assumes that you think the causes of the crises were basically exogenous. We could compare a story of the 1920s about radically changed trade patterns as a result of WWI, or about the transition agriculture to industry, to a story for the more recent crisis about the housing bubble, or global imbalances, or the transition from industry to services. If you believe a story like that, there’s no reason you couldn’t argue that their exogenous shock was bigger than our exogenous shock, and that’s the real difference.

Last, you could argue that private demand is inherently more stable today than it was before WWII. Price stickiness, say, usually cast as a villain in macroeconomic stories, could have prevented outright deflation; and greater debt-financing of consumption, again usually seen as part of the problem, could have helped stabilize consumption demand in the face of falling incomes. Or financial markets are less subject to short-term fluctuations in sentiment. (Haha. I crack myself up.)

Personally, I would lean toward door number two. But the important thing is just to reframe the question — not why was the recession so bad, but why wasn’t it worse? If someone ever did an IGM-style survey of economists, but of the good guys, it would be a good thing to ask.

Davies on the Disorder in Europe

My friend Jen writes about informal labor markets in South Africa. She was telling me the other day about street vendors who make their living buying packs of a dozen pairs of socks and selling them pair by pair. In that same spirit of finding a niche in the very last step of the distribution network, I thought I would pass on some material from a talk I attended last week by Sir Howard Davies. It’s below the fold, with occasional comments from me in brackets. A lot may seem familiar, but enough was new to me — and Davies is high enough up in this world; he’d had dinner the night before with Charles Dallara — that I think it’s worthwhile to put down my notes in full.

There are six and half questions to ask about the Euro system. Is the crisis over? Why did anyone think it would work? Why did it take so long to fall apart? Are the responses to date sufficient? What more is needed? Why even bother? And the half question, what’s it all mean for the UK?

To question 1, no surprise, the answer is No. “The ECB has been making really good policy for a country that doesn’t exist.” The fundamental problem of pan-European banks with no pan-European regulator or lender of last resort is no closer to being resolved; “some sticking-plaster has been applied,” that’s all.

On question 2, there were three reasons:

Some people said, “Yes, you will need a fiscal authority, but it will happen.” Europe policy in general has developed through a process of leap forward, then retrofit. And after all, it says right in the treaty “Ever closer union.”

Other people thought the stability and growth pact would ensure appropriate policy.

A third group of people, including Davies, believed something like, “Yes, these economies are very different, with different labor market institutions and so on, but without the option of devaluation they will be forced to converge.” Periodic devaluations had allowed southern European countries to avoid structural reform, but now everyone would have to behave like the Germans.

Well, all these views were wrong. Why? Three reasons:

– Maastricht turned out to be the high point of enthusiasm for federalism. Every single vote on additional federalism has said, No.

– The SGP turned out to be both too tight, in that it didn’t leave enough space for countercyclical fiscal policy, and too loose, in that it had no enforcement mechanism. [So it sounds like Davies would be on board with John Quiggin’s “hard Keynesianism.”]

– Lower interest rates were not used for fiscal consolidation. [This seems wrong to me, at least for Italy and Spain.] And there was no convergence to German levels of productivity.

On question 3, the first answer was that the first decade of the euro was, in Mervyn King’s unfelicitous coinage, NICE — Non-Inflationary with Consistent Expansion. And the ECB, while prohibited from buying government bonds directly, bought them in secondary markets at equal rates, meaning there was no pressure for fiscal discipline on member states. [Again, I’m resistant to this story, except for Greece and maybe Portugal.] Davies recalls talking to a Morgan Stanley bond dude, explaining how he marketed Greek debt: “A Greek bond is just like a German bund, except with an extra three points of interest.” There was a real market failure here, says Davies, and the banks that ended up holding this stuff (all European, by the way, American institutions have successfully elimianted almost all their exposure) deserve their haircuts.

[It would be interesting to explore the idea that an unsustainable current account deficit is precisely one that can only be financed with an interest rate premium.]

Question 4, the adequacy of the response. “The problem is that they are focused on the last crisis and the next crisis, but not on the current crisis.” By which he means that they are putting in place rules that would have helped if they’d already been in place years ago, while ignoring the ways in which “responsible” fiscal policy will exacerbate the current downturn. The problem right now is that austerity just makes the growth picture worse, and that the European “rescue capacity” is too small.

Question 5, what more is needed. In the short run, a better firewall is needed to prevent contagion from the worst-hit countries and institutions. In the longer run, Europe needs (a) some system for Europe-wide public borrowing (one idea would be for debt up to, but not above, the SGP levels to be backed by the community as a whole); and (b) a pan-European bank regulator and lender of last resort. But the Germans won’t go for it.

Which brings us to Question 6. Wouldn’t some countries be better off leaving? Greece’s departure is probably inevitable, he said. But it poses major challenges — even if you had an agreed-on procedure for converting Greek euros to the new Greek currency, which euros are the Greek ones? “If the coin says Greece, no problem. Greek government bonds, ok, those are Greek. And if you are living in Greece and have an account in a Greek bank, then that is probably a Greek euro. But, I have a boat in Greece and an account at Barclay’s in Athens. Are those Greek euros? I hope not. How about someone living in Athens but with a bank account in London, is that a Greek euro?” And beyond those technical problems, there are even worse political problems, that should make exit the last possible resort. Because, who will benefit from the failure of the euro, politically? In France, the fascists — Marie le Pen based her whole campaign around it. “In Greece, it would be the anarchists and the communists, they’re the only ones who have been against the euro.” [OH NOES the anarchists.] The communists in Hungary, Sinn Fein in Ireland, etc. “Only in the UK can you say that the Euro-skeptics are not mad people.”

Nonetheless, Greek exit is probably unavoidable. “My hunch is that Greece will not make it,” because they lack social capital. The Irish are stoic, they will accept lower pay and higher taxes. They say, ah well, we had a good few years but it had to end. Not the Greeks, they won’t pay taxes. [There was a shaggy-dog story in here about local officials in Spain and Greece competing to see who can waste more EU money.] Gas costs $6 a gallon in Greece because it’s almost the only thing the government can reliably tax. “Latvia could make austerity work because they’d been in the USSR for 50 years, they were used to unpleasant and dramatic things happening. The population would accept incredible privation.” The Greek population, sadly, will not.

And on the last half question: If the solution is “more Europe,” that will be a big problem for the UK. Cameron is a Euro-skeptic; it’s not just because he’s responding to popular opinion, but nonetheless popular opinion is heading that way. The UK is going to face increasing pressure to detach itself from the EU.

And a few other observations, from the Q&A:

“You can’t imagine Italy having an unelected government for long, but they are urgently engaged in some necessary reforms that would otherwise be impossible.”

There has never been a referendum in favor of the euro.

German wages have not gone up, German property values have not gone up, why should ordinary Germans feel like they are the beneficiaries of the euro and want to do more to save it? [Sounds like an argument for Thomas Jørgensen’s “Drink finer wines, drive nicer cars, and party harder!” platform.]

Most likely, Greece will have a disorderly exit, and that will concentrate the minds of European policymakers to take the necessary steps to prevent a repeat. Avoiding future defaults will require some kind of collective guarantee of Euro-area bonds, but Germans won’t accept that until it’s clear that the altenrative is catastrophe. So, “Greece may have to perform this service.”

The alternative is for Greece to do what Latvia did, structural reforms, get rid of anti-competitive policies. The problem is, you don’t have a full technocratic government in Greece, you still have elected officials with real power. [And that, I think, is what it all comes down to.]

What We Talk About When We Don’t Talk About Demand

There sure are a lot of ways to not say aggregate demand.

Here’s the estimable Joseph Stiglitz, not saying aggregate demand in Vanity Fair:

The parallels between the story of the origin of the Great Depression and that of our Long Slump are strong. Back then we were moving from agriculture to manufacturing. Today we are moving from manufacturing to a service economy. The decline in manufacturing jobs has been dramatic—from about a third of the workforce 60 years ago to less than a tenth of it today. … There are two reasons for the decline. One is greater productivity—the same dynamic that revolutionized agriculture and forced a majority of American farmers to look for work elsewhere. The other is globalization… (As Greenwald has pointed out, most of the job loss in the 1990s was related to productivity increases, not to globalization.) Whatever the specific cause, the inevitable result is precisely the same as it was 80 years ago: a decline in income and jobs. The millions of jobless former factory workers once employed in cities such as Youngstown and Birmingham and Gary and Detroit are the modern-day equivalent of the Depression’s doomed farmers.

This sounds reasonable, but is it? Nick Rowe doesn’t think so. Let’s leave aside globalization for another post — as Stieglitz says, it’s less important anyway. It’s certainly true that manufacturing employment has fallen steeply, even while the US — despite what you sometimes here — continues to produce plenty of manufactured goods. But does it make sense to say that the rise in manufacturing productivity be responsible for mass unemployment in the country as a whole?

There’s certainly an argument in principle for the existence of technological unemployment, caused by rapid productivity growth. Lance Taylor has a good discussion in chapter 5 of his superb new book Maynard’s Revenge (and a more technical version in Reconstructing Macroeconomics.) The idea is that with the real wage fixed, an increase in labor productivity will have two effects. First, it reduces the amount of labor required to produce a given level of output, and second, it redistributes income from labor to capital. Insofar as the marginal propensity to consume out of profit income is lower than the marginal propensity to consume out of wage income, this redistribution tends to reduce consumption demand. But insofar as investment demand is driven by profitability, it tends to increase investment demand. There’s no a priori reason to think that one of these effects is stronger than the other. If the former is stronger — if demand is wage-led — then yes, productivity increases will tend to lower demand. But if the latter is stronger — if demand is profit-led — then productivity increases will tend to raise demand, though perhaps not by enough to offset the reduced labor input required for a given level of output. For what it’s worth, Taylor thinks the US economy has profit-led demand, but not necessarily enough so to avoid a Luddite outcome.

Taylor is a structuralist. (The label I think I’m going to start wearing myself.) You would be unlikely to find this story in the mainstream because technological unemployment is impossible if wages equal the marginal product of labor, and because it requires that output to be normally, and not just exceptionally, demand-constrained.

It’s a good story but I have trouble seeing it having much to do with the current situation. Because, where’s the productivity acceleration? Underlying hourly labor productivity growth just keeps bumping along at 2 percent and change a year. Over the whole postwar period, it averages 2.3 percent. Over the past twenty years, 2.2 percent. Over the past decade, 2.3 percent. Where’s the technological revolution?

Just do the math. If underlying productivity rises at 2 percent a year, and demand constraints cause output to stay flat for four years [1], then we would expect employment to fall by 8 percent. In other words, lack of demand explains the whole fall in employment. [2] There’s no need to bring in structural shifts or anything else happening on the supply side. A fall in demand, plus a stable rate of productivity increase, gets you exactly what we’ve seen.

It’s important to understand why demand fell, but from a policy standpoint, no actually it isn’t. As the saying goes, you don’t refill a flat tire through the hole. The important point is that we don’t need to know anything about the composition of output to understand why unemployment is so high, because the relationship between the level of output and employment is no different than it’s always been.

But isn’t it true that since the end of the recession we’ve seen a recovery in output but no recovery in employment? Yes, it is. So doesn’t that suggest there’s something different happening in the labor market this time? No, it doesn’t. Here’s why.

There’s a well-established empirical relationship in macroeconomics called Okun’s law, which says that, roughly, a one percentage point change in output relative to potential changes employment by one a third to a half a percentage point. There are two straightforward reasons for this: first, a significant fraction of employment is overhead labor, which firms need an equal amount of whether their current production levels are high or low. And second, if hiring and training employees is costly, firms will be reluctant to lay off workers in the face of declines in output that are believe to be temporary. For both these reasons (and directly contrary to the predictions of a “sticky wages” theory of recessions) employment invariably falls by less than output in recessions. Let’s look at some pictures.

These graphs show the quarter by quarter annualized change in output (vertical axis) and employment (horizontal axis) over recent US business cycles. The diagonal line is the regression line for the postwar period as a whole; as you would expect, it passes through zero employment growth around two percent output growth, corresponding to the long-run rate of labor productivity growth.

1960 recession

1969 recession

1980 and 1981 recessions

1990 recession

2001 recession

2007 recession

What you see is that in every case, there’s the same clockwise motion. The initial phase of the recession (1960:2 to 1961:1, 1969:1 to 1970:4, etc.) is below the line, meaning growth has fallen more than employment. This is the period when firms are reducing output but not reducing employment proportionately. Then there’s a vertical upward movement at the left, when growth is accelerating and employment is not; this is the period when, because of their excess staffing at the bottom of the recession, firms are able to increase output without much new hiring. Finally there’s a movement toward the right as labor hoards are exhausted and overhead employment starts to increase, which brings the economy back to the long-term relationship between employment and output. [3] As the figures show, this cycle is found in every recession; it’s the inevitable outcome when an economy experiences negative demand shocks and employment is costly to adjust. (It’s a bit harder to see in the 1980-1981 graph because of the double-dip recession of 1980-1981; the first cycle is only halfway finished in 1981:2 when the second cycle begins.)

There’s nothing exceptional, in these pictures, about the most recent recession. Indeed, the accumulated deviations to the right of the long-term trend (i.e., higher employment than one would expect based on output) are somewhat greater than the accumulated deviations to the left of it. Nothing exceptional, that is, except how big it is, and how far it lies to the lower-left. In terms of the labor market, in other words, the Great Recession was qualitatively no different from other postwar recessions; it was just much deeper.

I understand the intellectual temptation to look for a more interesting story. And of course there are obviously structural explanations for why demand fell so far in 2007, and why conventional remedies have been relatively ineffective in boosting it. (Tho I suspect those explanations have more to do with the absence of major technological change, than an excess of it.) But if you want to know the proximate reason why unemployment is so high today, there’s a recession on still looks like a sufficiently good working hypothesis.

[1] Real GDP is currently less than 0.1 percent above its level at the end of 2007.

[2] Actually employment is down by only about 5 percent, suggesting that if anything we need a structural story for why it hasn’t fallen more. But there’s no real mystery here, productivity growth is not really independent of demand conditions and always decelerates in recessions.

[3] Changes in hours worked per employee are also part of the story, in both downturn and recovery.