David Wessel’s book, In Fed We Trust: Ben Bernanke’s War on the Great Panic, is the definitive chronicle of the 2007-2009 financial crisis, but it is much more.  The book gives us an inside view of how policy making took place in response to the striking events. Wessel provides insights into the key players and decision makers, and conveys a very real sense of what they were thinking as those events unfolded.  In doing so, however, his account triggers serious questions about the Treasury/Federal Reserve decision-making process.  Here, we emphasize three serious flaws in the policy-making process that Wessel describes: the consistent lack of a plan and short-time horizon of the decisions, the insularity of the decision makers, and the apparent disregard for FOMC information-security rules governing meetings and associated documents.  We conclude by noting some oversights in Wessel’s account of the Great Depression and the Panic of 1907.

Lack of a Plan

The insider’s view of the policy making is the unabashed strength of this book, and Wessel provides an extensive chronology of how the crisis unfolded.  It is not a pretty picture.  His most telling observation is that the principals seem to have lurched from event to event without a plan, even after it should have been apparent that one was needed.

The discussions among key participants – namely Chairman Bernanke, Secretary Paulson, then-president Geithner, and Governors Kohn and Warsh – seem rushed, from Wessel’s descriptions of them.  The policy discussions tended to focus on short-term problems, pushing off potential longer-run consequences of the policy responses as a matter of expediency.  The sense is that the participants expected each decision to be sufficient to return markets to normalcy; but of course, they were not.  The ad hoc, short-term nature of policy process, as described in the book, carried with it the risk that not all decisions would be good and would carry with them unintended consequences.  For example, the problems of exiting from many of the policies are now significant and have yet to be addressed.

Wessel alleges that the policy makers continually underestimated the crisis and that there was no long-range planning undertaken from the time that the crisis initially erupted.  This should come as no surprise to anyone reading closely the financial press throughout the crisis, and yet it remains disappointing.  It is important to note that not all the decisions had the time constraints that surrounded the issue of the Lehman failure in the fall of 2008.  That event was preceded by almost a year of financial turmoil, serial reports of losses, failures or mortgage related institutions, and market disruptions that should have signaled to policy makers that something serious was at hand and that they weren’t simply facing a short-term liquidity problem.

By now, it is apparent that the crisis was misdiagnosed as a liquidity problem when in fact it was a solvency crisis.  Funds didn’t suddenly dry up and markets did not stop functioning because there were no funds available.  Rather, because of the trail of losses and preceding events, financial markets finally became wary of the solvency of key counterparties, as the Bear Stearns episode clearly demonstrated.  This was long before the problems in Lehman Brothers emerged.  Market participants’ concerns, as subsequent events proved, were well-founded.  It took policy makers too long to recognize the capital deficiencies relative to the risk exposures of major primary dealers, which then left them with insufficient time to design resolution plans.  Most of the largest financial institutions – both domestic and international – proved to have inadequate capital.  Some failed, and many were bailed out by their respective governments.

Wessel’s description of the decision-making process reminds one of a perpetual Chinese fire drill rather than a considered, analytic approach to the problems as they unfolded over time.  The latter implies a systematic plan, and the former implies a sequence of ad hoc responses to unrelated shocks. Even if an initial plan proved inadequate, the experience would have permitted corrections as events evolved.  And lacking a plan, it is harder to see if and when a decision was wrong.

Delegated and Concentrated Decision Making

The second issue that emerges from Wessel’s account is the insular and concentrated nature of the decision-making process, which excluded many members of the Board of Governors and FOMC.  Three governors and the president of the NY Fed apparently took on the decision-making responsibility for the central bank in the midst of the crisis. From the narrative, it seems as if this core group effectively froze out the remaining two members of the Board and FOMC members from both decision making and access to key real-time information.

Why did it happen?  Under what authority did this happen?  One plausible answer is that the core group felt that the existing structure was too cumbersome to effectively coordinate policy among so many principals, and so they simply exploited a loophole in the law governing open and closed meetings of government agencies.  Let us explain.  Normally, there are seven members of the Board of Governors, so that a gathering of four would constitute a majority and could officially make decisions.  According to the 1976 Government in the Sunshine Act, which sets out the rules meetings of  federal governmental agencies, official Federal Reserve Board meetings in which policies are considered must be announced in advance and,  at a minimum, an agenda must be provided,.  For this reason, only three governors can get together in the same room without it constituting a “meeting”  and invoking the provisions of the Sunshine Act.   But during the entire crisis there have only been five governors on the Board, with two vacancies.  (David Kotok has written extensively on this issue in previous commentaries.)  Thus, the gathering of the three governors in the meetings that Wessel describes meant that while not technically meeting the legal requirement for a meeting, the three de facto constituted a majority of the sitting governors and could actually make decisions.  Coordinating policy with the entire FOMC would have been more cumbersome and likely would have also required that a written transcript be prepared.  It could be that the core principals felt that a smaller group would make decisions more quickly, and the sense of such a desire for quick decisions comes across in the narrative.  Nevertheless, one can’t help but feel that it might have been beneficial to have been able to tap the broader experience and expertise of the Federal Reserve Bank presidents, especially since so many of the key principals making the crucial decisions were relatively new to their jobs.

The Sanctity of FOMC Meetings

From the perspective of former senior officials of the Federal Reserve System, the details that Wessel reports about specific material in confidential FOMC documents and discussions that took place during FOMC meetings are especially discomforting.  FOMC security is governed by the FOMC’s Program for Security of FOMC Materials, which is a classified program that defines the security levels and handling of FOMC-classified documents.  The Program also sets out rules for how many people can have access to such documents.  At one time, only 10 people at each reserve bank (with the exception of New York and the Board) could have access to the Bluebooks, which contain the policy options presented by the staff to the FOMC.  The Bluebooks receive the highest level of  security classification.  The procedures also require detailed record keeping and govern storage and delivery of both hard-copy and electronic documents.

Most importantly, it is also clear in the Program to every attendee that what goes on in that board room at the Board of Governors stays in that room until the transcripts are made public five years later.  In the past there have been a few leaks.  When that happened, staff who attended the meetings, as well as bank presidents, and presumably Governors, were interviewed under oath by the FBI in one case and by a representative of the Board’s Inspector General in another case in an attempt to smoke out the source of the leaks.  The penalties for divulging classified information are extremely severe and might even include criminal charges.

Against that background, the kinds of candid conversations that Wessel had and divulged in his book are indeed surprising.  There are at least a dozen revelations of what went on at various FOMC meetings, who said what, and even what was substantively covered, that rise to a level of severity far above that which triggered investigations by the FBI and Inspector General during the Greenspan era.  One might deduce by simply examining historical Bluebook documents released on the Board’s website that the staff typically offers three policy options for FOMC consideration at each meeting.  So in describing that process Wessel is merely drawing on public information. However, Wessel indicates that in one meeting during the crisis there were actually four options presented, and he describes what some of those options were.  Either there have been significant revisions in the Program for Security of FOMC Materials in the past couple of years or there is now blatant disregard, for whatever reason, of the rules and sanctity of the meetings.  One could view this as another example of how the rules are now being bent at the Fed.  In the near term, these revelations may further damage the credibility of both the FOMC and the Federal Reserve.  It certainly weakens the Federal Reserve’s arguments against additional Congressional auditing of Federal Reserve activities.  After all, if FOMC participants can freely talk to the press in violation of their own security rules, surely Congress has a right to know what is going on as well.

Prior Financial Crises: 1907; The Great Depression vs. Depression 2.0

Wessel devotes Chapter 2 to describing what he believes are parallels between financial crises of the past and present.  In the interest of historical accuracy, even if it appears that we are nitpicking,  it appropriate to point out a couple of factual oversights.  In the second chapter of the book Wessel mischaracterizes key events during the Panic of 1907.  Specifically, he notes that the suspension of Knickerbocker Trust on October 22, 1907, after several days of depositor withdrawals, was the catalyst for the onset of that crisis. Wessel refers to the Knickerbocker Trust as the “Bear Stearns” of its day, claiming that Knickerbocker had lent heavily to the copper speculators, who failed in an attempt to corner that market and brought that firm down, just as Bear Stearns’ mortgage activities brought it down.  But in fact, such allegations about Knickerbocker have never been substantiated, and Wessels may have drawn upon a flawed analogy.  Bear Sterns’ problems were of its own making and not due to the actions of its borrowers.  In discussing Knickerbocker’s failure, Wessels also suggests that Benjamin Strong, then a Morgan employee who was asked by Morgan to inspect the books of the trust company, said that Knickerbocker Trust was insolvent.  Rather, Strong said that he was unable to determine whether it was solvent or not, a subtle but important difference.  That uncertainty parallels the uncertainty that market participants apparently felt about counterparties during the current crisis.  Finally, in contrast to Bear Stearns, which was rescued, Knickerbocker Trust suspended operations but eventually reopened as a going concern in March of 1908.  Ironically, the corrected analogy is likely a closer parallel than the one Wessel draws.  It is precisely the lack of clarity about financial-market solvency in 1907 that parallels the opacity that existed in 2007-2008.

Regardless of perspective, we do not really know how close the financial market came to collapse in 2008.  Whether letting Lehman Brothers fail was good policy or not, it is clear that timely resolution is critical when systemic issues are of concern.  If policy makers, present and future, draw their insights from past attempts to alleviate crises, they should distinguish the successes from the failures during those episodes.  Allowing Knickerbocker Trust to fail was likely a mistake, and one that arose from the lack of timely information about its solvency to the existing lender of last resort at the time (Morgan).

In another section, Wessel suggests that the Federal Reserve System’s creation was largely based on an earlier plan written by investment banker Paul Warburg.  The statement overlooks the overarching point that the Federal Reserve Act was not the work of one person, but was in fact the outcome of several years of careful research, discussion, and debate.  In particular, the National Monetary Commission and its proposal for banking reform, named the National Reserve Association, did incorporate many of Warburg’s ideas.  But Wicker (2005) emphasizes that the Federal Reserve Act bore a striking resemblance to the National Reserve Association legislation.  More importantly, the process was completed nearly five years after the Aldrich-Vreeland Act created the commission to study the reform of the monetary system.  The larger point about the time taken to appropriately reform the financial and monetary system is especially relevant today, as the Congress seems to be in a great rush to reform our financial regulatory system in response to the current crisis.

Wessel’s treatment of the Great Depression era is essentially in accord with the standard views regarding that period.  There are two minor points of difference, however.  First, some of the Reserve Bank presidents (governors, as they were then called), most particularly Eugene Robert Black of Atlanta, were consistently supporting the extension of liquidity, rather than policies to enforce the gold standard.  It was this policy that Friedman and Schwartz document and that resulted in a one third contraction in the U.S. money supply, thereby exacerbating the depression.

Bottom Lines

Wessel’s book confirms that the process of saving the financial system was, to no one’s surprise, ad hoc.  Further, the decisions were imperfectly informed by the principals’ perceptions of what was actually occurring.  Clearly, Chairman Bernanke understood the big risk of a financial meltdown and made bold moves to ensure that we didn’t experience another Great Depression.  President Geithner, now Treasury Secretary Geithner, is described as an interventionist whose main concern was the short run and who was willing to deal with the unintended consequences as they arose. Finally, Secretary Paulson seems to have been solely a markets person, long on the bravado associated with a deal maker and short on the analytics required to formulate good policy.

Whether all the actions taken were necessary we will never know, because we can’t observe what might have been had other policies been followed.  But it is clear that the process of dealing with the crisis might have benefited from additional inputs and analysis by people who held responsible positions within the Federal Reserve, but who, for whatever reasons, were not actively involved in the policy-framing process.  Perhaps in the debate that surrounds regulatory reform of the financial markets, the basic management issues of decision-making process design and planning should become a priority.  If not, then we may in the words of Yogi Berra experience déjà vu all over again.

Federal Reserve Chairman Ben S. Bernanke’s efforts to stoke a U.S. economic recovery may be undermined by the central bank’s other goal of restoring the banking system to health.

The Federal Open Market Committee, at the conclusion tomorrow of a two-day meeting, will probably maintain its assessment that “tight” bank credit is impeding growth, said economists including former Fed Governor Lyle Gramley. Lending contracted for five straight weeks through Sept. 9, a drop that in part reflects Fed orders to banks to raise more capital and toughen lending standards, analysts say.

A failure to restore the flow of bank credit carries the risk that the economic recovery will be slower than the Fed anticipates, or even that the U.S. lapses into another recession, economists say. That would make it more likely the Fed will keep its main interest rate close to zero for a longer period.

————

“Even though from a technical perspective the recession is very likely over at this point, it’s still going to feel like a very weak economy for some time,” Bernanke said in response to a question after a speech in Washington. Fed officials in June predicted that GDP will expand 2.1 percent to 3.3 percent next year after shrinking 1.5 percent to 1 percent this year, according to the central tendency of their forecasts.

Banks have plenty of reasons to hold back on lending, analysts say.

Americans fell behind on their mortgage payments at a record pace in the second quarter, with delinquencies rising to 9.24 percent, according to an August report by the Mortgage Bankers Association.

“Consumers aren’t necessarily that creditworthy a proposition right now,” said John Ryding, chief economist and founder of RDQ Economics LLC in New York.

Falling values of commercial real estate are also a problem for banks, with an “uncertain degree of losses” to come, said Ryding, a former Fed researcher. Loans made for commercial property will probably sour and lenders will need to raise more capital to cover credit losses, Mike Mayo, a banking analyst at CLSA Ltd., said today at a conference in Hong Kong.

Read the full article here

Central bankers have no clue. In the first place, the financial crisis was not a black swan. It was perfectly predictable. They ignored the phenomenal buildup in leverage since 1980. They acted like airline pilots who’d never heard of hurricanes.

After finishing The Black Swan, I realized there was a cancer. The cancer was a huge buildup of risk-taking based on the lack of understanding of reality. The second problem is the hidden risk with new financial products. And the third is the interdependence among financial institutions.

…Today we still have the same amount of debt, but it belongs to governments. Normally debt would get destroyed and turn to air. Debt is a mistake between lender and borrower, and both should suffer. But the government is socializing all these losses by transforming them into liabilities for your children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. What is the effect? The doctor has shown up and relieved the patient’s symptoms – and transformed the tumour into a metastatic tumour. We still have the same disease. We still have too much debt, too many big banks, too much state sponsorship of risk-taking. And now we have six million more Americans who are unemployed – a lot more than that if you count hidden unemployment.

…Ben Bernanke saved nothing! He shouldn’t be allowed in Washington. He’s like a doctor who misses the metastatic tumour and says the patient is doing very well. The first thing I would tell Chinese officials is, how can you buy U.S. bonds as long as Larry Summers is there? He’s a textbook case of overconfidence. Look what happened to Harvard’s finances. They took a lot of risk they didn’t understand, and it was a disaster. That’s the Larry Summers mentality.

Read the full interview here

You can read the article below:

Enough of the world has already fallen so far into pre-deflation conditions that any misjudgment by the big central banks from now risks setting off a chain-reaction that may prove very hard to stop.

CPI inflation has dropped to –2.2pc in Japan (a modern record), -2.1pc in the US, -1.8pc in China, -1.4pc in Spain, -0.7pc in France, and -0.6pc in Germany.

This was not anticipated by the authorities anywhere, so we should be wary of their assurances now that we face nothing more than a brief dip in prices before rising energy costs bring inflation back into familiar and safe territory. No doubt prices will rebound as the “base effect” of oil prices kicks in. But by how much; for how long?

The sum of economists in the world (outside Japan) familiar with the cultural and psychological dynamics of deflation can fit into one London bus, and most are historians of the 1930s.

If PIMCO guru Bill Gross and hedge fund manager Paul Tudor Jones are right in fearing that the US economy will tip back into a “W-shaped” recession as the sugar rush of fiscal stimulus fades, we may wake up to find that we have baked deep deflation into the pie for 2010 and 2011. The G20′s talk of “exit strategies” and rate rises will seem surreal.

White House aides are already mulling another blast of spending. It won’t fly. We have hit the political limits of such extravagance almost everywhere. The fiscal crutches of recovery are going to be knocked away, with outright tightening in a slew of states nearing the danger point of debt-compound spirals. This will occur in a world where excess capacity is already at post-War highs. It reeks of deflation.

Irving Fisher explained why the self-correcting mechanism of economies breaks down in his Debt Deflation Theory of Great Depressions in 1933: “Over indebtedness to start with, and deflation following soon after”. Most of the West has exactly that, but worse – debt is much higher.

He coined the term “swelling dollar” to describe how falling prices and incomes raise the real burden of debts, leading to asphyxiation. There is a “swelling yen” in Japan today. Earnings were down 4.8pc in July from a year earlier. Bonuses fell 11pc. Wholesale prices fell a record 8.5pc.

Yes, Japan rebounded in the second quarter as shipping finance came back from the dead. The free fall has stopped. That is all. Industrial output was still down 23pc in July year-on-year.

What matters for debt service is that Japan’s economy has shrunk by a tenth. Debt has not shrunk. It is rising. The public debt will rocket to 215pc this year.

China is in better shape but it is remarkable that there should be any deflation at all in a year when banks have let rip on credit, doubling lending to $1.1 trillion in the first six months.

The money has leaked into property and the Shanghai stock market; or worse, it has been spent building yet more excess plants to produce goods the world cannot yet absorb. This is much like the late phase of America’s Roaring Twenties when asset prices reached their crescendo even as the underlying economy – burdened with over-capacity – tipped into deflation.

Beijing is at last tightening credit, mostly by stealth. We will learn soon whether Market Maoists are better at pricking asset bubbles than Ben Strong’s Fed in the 1920s, or Ben Bernanke’s Fed today.

I suspect that Dr Bernanke is more worried about deflation than he dares to let on. His ex-colleague Frederic Mishkin let slip last month that the Fed would be showering more money on the economy (buying US Treasuries), not less, were it not for market angst over the monetization of US deficits.

Bernanke is learning that he cannot in fact administer the anti-deflation medicine he talked about so confidently seven years ago. He can act only if and when the danger is so blindingly obvious that resistance crumbles.

There are three ways out of our mess. We can pursue 1930s liquidation that purges debt through mass default. Such Calvinist destruction cannot be imposed on a modern democracy.

We can devalue debt by deliberate inflation. This will backfire as bond vigilantes boycott government debt – unless rigged by capital controls or “administrative measures”. You see where this leads.

Or we can try to right the ship by paying down our debts, very slowly, by sweat and toil, navigating a treacherous course between the Scylla and Charybdis of the twin-flations, for as long as it takes. This is the only responsible course left we as we face the devastating consequences of our own credit delusions. Are we up it?

Below is an excerpt:

As I see it, the economics profession went astray because economists, as a group, mistook beauty, clad in impressive-looking mathematics, for truth. Until the Great Depression, most economists clung to a vision of capitalism as a perfect or nearly perfect system. That vision wasn’t sustainable in the face of mass unemployment, but as memories of the Depression faded, economists fell back in love with the old, idealized vision of an economy in which rational individuals interact in perfect markets, this time gussied up with fancy equations. The renewed romance with the idealized market was, to be sure, partly a response to shifting political winds, partly a response to financial incentives. But while sabbaticals at the Hoover Institution and job opportunities on Wall Street are nothing to sneeze at, the central cause of the profession’s failure was the desire for an all-encompassing, intellectually elegant approach that also gave economists a chance to show off their mathematical prowess.

Unfortunately, this romanticized and sanitized vision of the economy led most economists to ignore all the things that can go wrong. They turned a blind eye to the limitations of human rationality that often lead to bubbles and busts; to the problems of institutions that run amok; to the imperfections of markets — especially financial markets — that can cause the economy’s operating system to undergo sudden, unpredictable crashes; and to the dangers created when regulators don’t believe in regulation.

It’s much harder to say where the economics profession goes from here. But what’s almost certain is that economists will have to learn to live with messiness. That is, they will have to acknowledge the importance of irrational and often unpredictable behavior, face up to the often idiosyncratic imperfections of markets and accept that an elegant economic “theory of everything” is a long way off. In practical terms, this will translate into more cautious policy advice — and a reduced willingness to dismantle economic safeguards in the faith that markets will solve all problems.

I. MISTAKING BEAUTY FOR TRUTH

It’s hard to believe now, but not long ago economists were congratulating themselves over the success of their field. Those successes — or so they believed — were both theoretical and practical, leading to a golden era for the profession. On the theoretical side, they thought that they had resolved their internal disputes. Thus, in a 2008 paper titled “The State of Macro” (that is, macroeconomics, the study of big-picture issues like recessions), Olivier Blanchard of M.I.T., now the chief economist at the International Monetary Fund, declared that “the state of macro is good.” The battles of yesteryear, he said, were over, and there had been a “broad convergence of vision.” And in the real world, economists believed they had things under control: the “central problem of depression-prevention has been solved,” declared Robert Lucas of the University of Chicago in his 2003 presidential address to the American Economic Association. In 2004, Ben Bernanke, a former Princeton professor who is now the chairman of the Federal Reserve Board, celebrated the Great Moderation in economic performance over the previous two decades, which he attributed in part to improved economic policy making.

Last year, everything came apart.

Few economists saw our current crisis coming, but this predictive failure was the least of the field’s problems. More important was the profession’s blindness to the very possibility of catastrophic failures in a market economy. During the golden years, financial economists came to believe that markets were inherently stable — indeed, that stocks and other assets were always priced just right. There was nothing in the prevailing models suggesting the possibility of the kind of collapse that happened last year. Meanwhile, macroeconomists were divided in their views. But the main division was between those who insisted that free-market economies never go astray and those who believed that economies may stray now and then but that any major deviations from the path of prosperity could and would be corrected by the all-powerful Fed. Neither side was prepared to cope with an economy that went off the rails despite the Fed’s best efforts.

And in the wake of the crisis, the fault lines in the economics profession have yawned wider than ever. Lucas says the Obama administration’s stimulus plans are “schlock economics,” and his Chicago colleague John Cochrane says they’re based on discredited “fairy tales.” In response, Brad DeLong of the University of California, Berkeley, writes of the “intellectual collapse” of the Chicago School, and I myself have written that comments from Chicago economists are the product of a Dark Age of macroeconomics in which hard-won knowledge has been forgotten.

What happened to the economics profession? And where does it go from here?

As I see it, the economics profession went astray because economists, as a group, mistook beauty, clad in impressive-looking mathematics, for truth. Until the Great Depression, most economists clung to a vision of capitalism as a perfect or nearly perfect system. That vision wasn’t sustainable in the face of mass unemployment, but as memories of the Depression faded, economists fell back in love with the old, idealized vision of an economy in which rational individuals interact in perfect markets, this time gussied up with fancy equations. The renewed romance with the idealized market was, to be sure, partly a response to shifting political winds, partly a response to financial incentives. But while sabbaticals at the Hoover Institution and job opportunities on Wall Street are nothing to sneeze at, the central cause of the profession’s failure was the desire for an all-encompassing, intellectually elegant approach that also gave economists a chance to show off their mathematical prowess.

Unfortunately, this romanticized and sanitized vision of the economy led most economists to ignore all the things that can go wrong. They turned a blind eye to the limitations of human rationality that often lead to bubbles and busts; to the problems of institutions that run amok; to the imperfections of markets — especially financial markets — that can cause the economy’s operating system to undergo sudden, unpredictable crashes; and to the dangers created when regulators don’t believe in regulation.

It’s much harder to say where the economics profession goes from here. But what’s almost certain is that economists will have to learn to live with messiness. That is, they will have to acknowledge the importance of irrational and often unpredictable behavior, face up to the often idiosyncratic imperfections of markets and accept that an elegant economic “theory of everything” is a long way off. In practical terms, this will translate into more cautious policy advice — and a reduced willingness to dismantle economic safeguards in the faith that markets will solve all problems.

II. FROM SMITH TO KEYNES AND BACK

The birth of economics as a discipline is usually credited to Adam Smith, who published “The Wealth of Nations” in 1776. Over the next 160 years an extensive body of economic theory was developed, whose central message was: Trust the market. Yes, economists admitted that there were cases in which markets might fail, of which the most important was the case of “externalities” — costs that people impose on others without paying the price, like traffic congestion or pollution. But the basic presumption of “neoclassical” economics (named after the late-19th-century theorists who elaborated on the concepts of their “classical” predecessors) was that we should have faith in the market system.

This faith was, however, shattered by the Great Depression. Actually, even in the face of total collapse some economists insisted that whatever happens in a market economy must be right: “Depressions are not simply evils,” declared Joseph Schumpeter in 1934 — 1934! They are, he added, “forms of something which has to be done.” But many, and eventually most, economists turned to the insights of John Maynard Keynes for both an explanation of what had happened and a solution to future depressions.

Keynes did not, despite what you may have heard, want the government to run the economy. He described his analysis in his 1936 masterwork, “The General Theory of Employment, Interest and Money,” as “moderately conservative in its implications.” He wanted to fix capitalism, not replace it. But he did challenge the notion that free-market economies can function without a minder, expressing particular contempt for financial markets, which he viewed as being dominated by short-term speculation with little regard for fundamentals. And he called for active government intervention — printing more money and, if necessary, spending heavily on public works — to fight unemployment during slumps.

It’s important to understand that Keynes did much more than make bold assertions. “The General Theory” is a work of profound, deep analysis — analysis that persuaded the best young economists of the day. Yet the story of economics over the past half century is, to a large degree, the story of a retreat from Keynesianism and a return to neoclassicism. The neoclassical revival was initially led by Milton Friedman of the University of Chicago, who asserted as early as 1953 that neoclassical economics works well enough as a description of the way the economy actually functions to be “both extremely fruitful and deserving of much confidence.” But what about depressions?

Friedman’s counterattack against Keynes began with the doctrine known as monetarism. Monetarists didn’t disagree in principle with the idea that a market economy needs deliberate stabilization. “We are all Keynesians now,” Friedman once said, although he later claimed he was quoted out of context. Monetarists asserted, however, that a very limited, circumscribed form of government intervention — namely, instructing central banks to keep the nation’s money supply, the sum of cash in circulation and bank deposits, growing on a steady path — is all that’s required to prevent depressions. Famously, Friedman and his collaborator, Anna Schwartz, argued that if the Federal Reserve had done its job properly, the Great Depression would not have happened. Later, Friedman made a compelling case against any deliberate effort by government to push unemployment below its “natural” level (currently thought to be about 4.8 percent in the United States): excessively expansionary policies, he predicted, would lead to a combination of inflation and high unemployment — a prediction that was borne out by the stagflation of the 1970s, which greatly advanced the credibility of the anti-Keynesian movement.

Eventually, however, the anti-Keynesian counterrevolution went far beyond Friedman’s position, which came to seem relatively moderate compared with what his successors were saying. Among financial economists, Keynes’s disparaging vision of financial markets as a “casino” was replaced by “efficient market” theory, which asserted that financial markets always get asset prices right given the available information. Meanwhile, many macroeconomists completely rejected Keynes’s framework for understanding economic slumps. Some returned to the view of Schumpeter and other apologists for the Great Depression, viewing recessions as a good thing, part of the economy’s adjustment to change. And even those not willing to go that far argued that any attempt to fight an economic slump would do more harm than good.

Not all macroeconomists were willing to go down this road: many became self-described New Keynesians, who continued to believe in an active role for the government. Yet even they mostly accepted the notion that investors and consumers are rational and that markets generally get it right.

Of course, there were exceptions to these trends: a few economists challenged the assumption of rational behavior, questioned the belief that financial markets can be trusted and pointed to the long history of financial crises that had devastating economic consequences. But they were swimming against the tide, unable to make much headway against a pervasive and, in retrospect, foolish complacency.

III. PANGLOSSIAN FINANCE

In the 1930s, financial markets, for obvious reasons, didn’t get much respect. Keynes compared them to “those newspaper competitions in which the competitors have to pick out the six prettiest faces from a hundred photographs, the prize being awarded to the competitor whose choice most nearly corresponds to the average preferences of the competitors as a whole; so that each competitor has to pick, not those faces which he himself finds prettiest, but those that he thinks likeliest to catch the fancy of the other competitors.”

And Keynes considered it a very bad idea to let such markets, in which speculators spent their time chasing one another’s tails, dictate important business decisions: “When the capital development of a country becomes a by-product of the activities of a casino, the job is likely to be ill-done.”

By 1970 or so, however, the study of financial markets seemed to have been taken over by Voltaire’s Dr. Pangloss, who insisted that we live in the best of all possible worlds. Discussion of investor irrationality, of bubbles, of destructive speculation had virtually disappeared from academic discourse. The field was dominated by the “efficient-market hypothesis,” promulgated by Eugene Fama of the University of Chicago, which claims that financial markets price assets precisely at their intrinsic worth given all publicly available information. (The price of a company’s stock, for example, always accurately reflects the company’s value given the information available on the company’s earnings, its business prospects and so on.) And by the 1980s, finance economists, notably Michael Jensen of the Harvard Business School, were arguing that because financial markets always get prices right, the best thing corporate chieftains can do, not just for themselves but for the sake of the economy, is to maximize their stock prices. In other words, finance economists believed that we should put the capital development of the nation in the hands of what Keynes had called a “casino.”

It’s hard to argue that this transformation in the profession was driven by events. True, the memory of 1929 was gradually receding, but there continued to be bull markets, with widespread tales of speculative excess, followed by bear markets. In 1973-4, for example, stocks lost 48 percent of their value. And the 1987 stock crash, in which the Dow plunged nearly 23 percent in a day for no clear reason, should have raised at least a few doubts about market rationality.

These events, however, which Keynes would have considered evidence of the unreliability of markets, did little to blunt the force of a beautiful idea. The theoretical model that finance economists developed by assuming that every investor rationally balances risk against reward — the so-called Capital Asset Pricing Model, or CAPM (pronounced cap-em) — is wonderfully elegant. And if you accept its premises it’s also extremely useful. CAPM not only tells you how to choose your portfolio — even more important from the financial industry’s point of view, it tells you how to put a price on financial derivatives, claims on claims. The elegance and apparent usefulness of the new theory led to a string of Nobel prizes for its creators, and many of the theory’s adepts also received more mundane rewards: Armed with their new models and formidable math skills — the more arcane uses of CAPM require physicist-level computations — mild-mannered business-school professors could and did become Wall Street rocket scientists, earning Wall Street paychecks.

To be fair, finance theorists didn’t accept the efficient-market hypothesis merely because it was elegant, convenient and lucrative. They also produced a great deal of statistical evidence, which at first seemed strongly supportive. But this evidence was of an oddly limited form. Finance economists rarely asked the seemingly obvious (though not easily answered) question of whether asset prices made sense given real-world fundamentals like earnings. Instead, they asked only whether asset prices made sense given other asset prices. Larry Summers, now the top economic adviser in the Obama administration, once mocked finance professors with a parable about “ketchup economists” who “have shown that two-quart bottles of ketchup invariably sell for exactly twice as much as one-quart bottles of ketchup,” and conclude from this that the ketchup market is perfectly efficient.

But neither this mockery nor more polite critiques from economists like Robert Shiller of Yale had much effect. Finance theorists continued to believe that their models were essentially right, and so did many people making real-world decisions. Not least among these was Alan Greenspan, who was then the Fed chairman and a long-time supporter of financial deregulation whose rejection of calls to rein in subprime lending or address the ever-inflating housing bubble rested in large part on the belief that modern financial economics had everything under control. There was a telling moment in 2005, at a conference held to honor Greenspan’s tenure at the Fed. One brave attendee, Raghuram Rajan (of the University of Chicago, surprisingly), presented a paper warning that the financial system was taking on potentially dangerous levels of risk. He was mocked by almost all present — including, by the way, Larry Summers, who dismissed his warnings as “misguided.”

By October of last year, however, Greenspan was admitting that he was in a state of “shocked disbelief,” because “the whole intellectual edifice” had “collapsed.” Since this collapse of the intellectual edifice was also a collapse of real-world markets, the result was a severe recession — the worst, by many measures, since the Great Depression. What should policy makers do? Unfortunately, macroeconomics, which should have been providing clear guidance about how to address the slumping economy, was in its own state of disarray.

IV. THE TROUBLE WITH MACRO

“We have involved ourselves in a colossal muddle, having blundered in the control of a delicate machine, the working of which we do not understand. The result is that our possibilities of wealth may run to waste for a time — perhaps for a long time.” So wrote John Maynard Keynes in an essay titled “The Great Slump of 1930,” in which he tried to explain the catastrophe then overtaking the world. And the world’s possibilities of wealth did indeed run to waste for a long time; it took World War II to bring the Great Depression to a definitive end.

Why was Keynes’s diagnosis of the Great Depression as a “colossal muddle” so compelling at first? And why did economics, circa 1975, divide into opposing camps over the value of Keynes’s views?

I like to explain the essence of Keynesian economics with a true story that also serves as a parable, a small-scale version of the messes that can afflict entire economies. Consider the travails of the Capitol Hill Baby-Sitting Co-op.

This co-op, whose problems were recounted in a 1977 article in The Journal of Money, Credit and Banking, was an association of about 150 young couples who agreed to help one another by baby-sitting for one another’s children when parents wanted a night out. To ensure that every couple did its fair share of baby-sitting, the co-op introduced a form of scrip: coupons made out of heavy pieces of paper, each entitling the bearer to one half-hour of sitting time. Initially, members received 20 coupons on joining and were required to return the same amount on departing the group.

Unfortunately, it turned out that the co-op’s members, on average, wanted to hold a reserve of more than 20 coupons, perhaps, in case they should want to go out several times in a row. As a result, relatively few people wanted to spend their scrip and go out, while many wanted to baby-sit so they could add to their hoard. But since baby-sitting opportunities arise only when someone goes out for the night, this meant that baby-sitting jobs were hard to find, which made members of the co-op even more reluctant to go out, making baby-sitting jobs even scarcer. . . .

In short, the co-op fell into a recession.

O.K., what do you think of this story? Don’t dismiss it as silly and trivial: economists have used small-scale examples to shed light on big questions ever since Adam Smith saw the roots of economic progress in a pin factory, and they’re right to do so. The question is whether this particular example, in which a recession is a problem of inadequate demand — there isn’t enough demand for baby-sitting to provide jobs for everyone who wants one — gets at the essence of what happens in a recession.

Forty years ago most economists would have agreed with this interpretation. But since then macroeconomics has divided into two great factions: “saltwater” economists (mainly in coastal U.S. universities), who have a more or less Keynesian vision of what recessions are all about; and “freshwater” economists (mainly at inland schools), who consider that vision nonsense.

Freshwater economists are, essentially, neoclassical purists. They believe that all worthwhile economic analysis starts from the premise that people are rational and markets work, a premise violated by the story of the baby-sitting co-op. As they see it, a general lack of sufficient demand isn’t possible, because prices always move to match supply with demand. If people want more baby-sitting coupons, the value of those coupons will rise, so that they’re worth, say, 40 minutes of baby-sitting rather than half an hour — or, equivalently, the cost of an hours’ baby-sitting would fall from 2 coupons to 1.5. And that would solve the problem: the purchasing power of the coupons in circulation would have risen, so that people would feel no need to hoard more, and there would be no recession.

But don’t recessions look like periods in which there just isn’t enough demand to employ everyone willing to work? Appearances can be deceiving, say the freshwater theorists. Sound economics, in their view, says that overall failures of demand can’t happen — and that means that they don’t. Keynesian economics has been “proved false,” Cochrane, of the University of Chicago, says.

Yet recessions do happen. Why? In the 1970s the leading freshwater macroeconomist, the Nobel laureate Robert Lucas, argued that recessions were caused by temporary confusion: workers and companies had trouble distinguishing overall changes in the level of prices because of inflation or deflation from changes in their own particular business situation. And Lucas warned that any attempt to fight the business cycle would be counterproductive: activist policies, he argued, would just add to the confusion.

By the 1980s, however, even this severely limited acceptance of the idea that recessions are bad things had been rejected by many freshwater economists. Instead, the new leaders of the movement, especially Edward Prescott, who was then at the University of Minnesota (you can see where the freshwater moniker comes from), argued that price fluctuations and changes in demand actually had nothing to do with the business cycle. Rather, the business cycle reflects fluctuations in the rate of technological progress, which are amplified by the rational response of workers, who voluntarily work more when the environment is favorable and less when it’s unfavorable. Unemployment is a deliberate decision by workers to take time off.

Put baldly like that, this theory sounds foolish — was the Great Depression really the Great Vacation? And to be honest, I think it really is silly. But the basic premise of Prescott’s “real business cycle” theory was embedded in ingeniously constructed mathematical models, which were mapped onto real data using sophisticated statistical techniques, and the theory came to dominate the teaching of macroeconomics in many university departments. In 2004, reflecting the theory’s influence, Prescott shared a Nobel with Finn Kydland of Carnegie Mellon University.

Meanwhile, saltwater economists balked. Where the freshwater economists were purists, saltwater economists were pragmatists. While economists like N. Gregory Mankiw at Harvard, Olivier Blanchard at M.I.T. and David Romer at the University of California, Berkeley, acknowledged that it was hard to reconcile a Keynesian demand-side view of recessions with neoclassical theory, they found the evidence that recessions are, in fact, demand-driven too compelling to reject. So they were willing to deviate from the assumption of perfect markets or perfect rationality, or both, adding enough imperfections to accommodate a more or less Keynesian view of recessions. And in the saltwater view, active policy to fight recessions remained desirable.

But the self-described New Keynesian economists weren’t immune to the charms of rational individuals and perfect markets. They tried to keep their deviations from neoclassical orthodoxy as limited as possible. This meant that there was no room in the prevailing models for such things as bubbles and banking-system collapse. The fact that such things continued to happen in the real world — there was a terrible financial and macroeconomic crisis in much of Asia in 1997-8 and a depression-level slump in Argentina in 2002 — wasn’t reflected in the mainstream of New Keynesian thinking.

Even so, you might have thought that the differing worldviews of freshwater and saltwater economists would have put them constantly at loggerheads over economic policy. Somewhat surprisingly, however, between around 1985 and 2007 the disputes between freshwater and saltwater economists were mainly about theory, not action. The reason, I believe, is that New Keynesians, unlike the original Keynesians, didn’t think fiscal policy — changes in government spending or taxes — was needed to fight recessions. They believed that monetary policy, administered by the technocrats at the Fed, could provide whatever remedies the economy needed. At a 90th birthday celebration for Milton Friedman, Ben Bernanke, formerly a more or less New Keynesian professor at Princeton, and by then a member of the Fed’s governing board, declared of the Great Depression: “You’re right. We did it. We’re very sorry. But thanks to you, it won’t happen again.” The clear message was that all you need to avoid depressions is a smarter Fed.

And as long as macroeconomic policy was left in the hands of the maestro Greenspan, without Keynesian-type stimulus programs, freshwater economists found little to complain about. (They didn’t believe that monetary policy did any good, but they didn’t believe it did any harm, either.)

It would take a crisis to reveal both how little common ground there was and how Panglossian even New Keynesian economics had become.

V. NOBODY COULD HAVE PREDICTED . . .

In recent, rueful economics discussions, an all-purpose punch line has become “nobody could have predicted. . . .” It’s what you say with regard to disasters that could have been predicted, should have been predicted and actually were predicted by a few economists who were scoffed at for their pains.

Take, for example, the precipitous rise and fall of housing prices. Some economists, notably Robert Shiller, did identify the bubble and warn of painful consequences if it were to burst. Yet key policy makers failed to see the obvious. In 2004, Alan Greenspan dismissed talk of a housing bubble: “a national severe price distortion,” he declared, was “most unlikely.” Home-price increases, Ben Bernanke said in 2005, “largely reflect strong economic fundamentals.”

How did they miss the bubble? To be fair, interest rates were unusually low, possibly explaining part of the price rise. It may be that Greenspan and Bernanke also wanted to celebrate the Fed’s success in pulling the economy out of the 2001 recession; conceding that much of that success rested on the creation of a monstrous bubble would have placed a damper on the festivities.

But there was something else going on: a general belief that bubbles just don’t happen. What’s striking, when you reread Greenspan’s assurances, is that they weren’t based on evidence — they were based on the a priori assertion that there simply can’t be a bubble in housing. And the finance theorists were even more adamant on this point. In a 2007 interview, Eugene Fama, the father of the efficient-market hypothesis, declared that “the word ‘bubble’ drives me nuts,” and went on to explain why we can trust the housing market: “Housing markets are less liquid, but people are very careful when they buy houses. It’s typically the biggest investment they’re going to make, so they look around very carefully and they compare prices. The bidding process is very detailed.”

Indeed, home buyers generally do carefully compare prices — that is, they compare the price of their potential purchase with the prices of other houses. But this says nothing about whether the overall price of houses is justified. It’s ketchup economics, again: because a two-quart bottle of ketchup costs twice as much as a one-quart bottle, finance theorists declare that the price of ketchup must be right.

In short, the belief in efficient financial markets blinded many if not most economists to the emergence of the biggest financial bubble in history. And efficient-market theory also played a significant role in inflating that bubble in the first place.

Now that the undiagnosed bubble has burst, the true riskiness of supposedly safe assets has been revealed and the financial system has demonstrated its fragility. U.S. households have seen $13 trillion in wealth evaporate. More than six million jobs have been lost, and the unemployment rate appears headed for its highest level since 1940. So what guidance does modern economics have to offer in our current predicament? And should we trust it?

VI. THE STIMULUS SQUABBLE

Between 1985 and 2007 a false peace settled over the field of macroeconomics. There hadn’t been any real convergence of views between the saltwater and freshwater factions. But these were the years of the Great Moderation — an extended period during which inflation was subdued and recessions were relatively mild. Saltwater economists believed that the Federal Reserve had everything under control. Fresh­water economists didn’t think the Fed’s actions were actually beneficial, but they were willing to let matters lie.

But the crisis ended the phony peace. Suddenly the narrow, technocratic policies both sides were willing to accept were no longer sufficient — and the need for a broader policy response brought the old conflicts out into the open, fiercer than ever.

Why weren’t those narrow, technocratic policies sufficient? The answer, in a word, is zero.

During a normal recession, the Fed responds by buying Treasury bills — short-term government debt — from banks. This drives interest rates on government debt down; investors seeking a higher rate of return move into other assets, driving other interest rates down as well; and normally these lower interest rates eventually lead to an economic bounceback. The Fed dealt with the recession that began in 1990 by driving short-term interest rates from 9 percent down to 3 percent. It dealt with the recession that began in 2001 by driving rates from 6.5 percent to 1 percent. And it tried to deal with the current recession by driving rates down from 5.25 percent to zero.

But zero, it turned out, isn’t low enough to end this recession. And the Fed can’t push rates below zero, since at near-zero rates investors simply hoard cash rather than lending it out. So by late 2008, with interest rates basically at what macroeconomists call the “zero lower bound” even as the recession continued to deepen, conventional monetary policy had lost all traction.

Now what? This is the second time America has been up against the zero lower bound, the previous occasion being the Great Depression. And it was precisely the observation that there’s a lower bound to interest rates that led Keynes to advocate higher government spending: when monetary policy is ineffective and the private sector can’t be persuaded to spend more, the public sector must take its place in supporting the economy. Fiscal stimulus is the Keynesian answer to the kind of depression-type economic situation we’re currently in.

Such Keynesian thinking underlies the Obama administration’s economic policies — and the freshwater economists are furious. For 25 or so years they tolerated the Fed’s efforts to manage the economy, but a full-blown Keynesian resurgence was something entirely different. Back in 1980, Lucas, of the University of Chicago, wrote that Keynesian economics was so ludicrous that “at research seminars, people don’t take Keynesian theorizing seriously anymore; the audience starts to whisper and giggle to one another.” Admitting that Keynes was largely right, after all, would be too humiliating a comedown.

And so Chicago’s Cochrane, outraged at the idea that government spending could mitigate the latest recession, declared: “It’s not part of what anybody has taught graduate students since the 1960s. They [Keynesian ideas] are fairy tales that have been proved false. It is very comforting in times of stress to go back to the fairy tales we heard as children, but it doesn’t make them less false.” (It’s a mark of how deep the division between saltwater and freshwater runs that Cochrane doesn’t believe that “anybody” teaches ideas that are, in fact, taught in places like Princeton, M.I.T. and Harvard.)

Meanwhile, saltwater economists, who had comforted themselves with the belief that the great divide in macroeconomics was narrowing, were shocked to realize that freshwater economists hadn’t been listening at all. Freshwater economists who inveighed against the stimulus didn’t sound like scholars who had weighed Keynesian arguments and found them wanting. Rather, they sounded like people who had no idea what Keynesian economics was about, who were resurrecting pre-1930 fallacies in the belief that they were saying something new and profound.

And it wasn’t just Keynes whose ideas seemed to have been forgotten. As Brad DeLong of the University of California, Berkeley, has pointed out in his laments about the Chicago school’s “intellectual collapse,” the school’s current stance amounts to a wholesale rejection of Milton Friedman’s ideas, as well. Friedman believed that Fed policy rather than changes in government spending should be used to stabilize the economy, but he never asserted that an increase in government spending cannot, under any circumstances, increase employment. In fact, rereading Friedman’s 1970 summary of his ideas, “A Theoretical Framework for Monetary Analysis,” what’s striking is how Keynesian it seems.

And Friedman certainly never bought into the idea that mass unemployment represents a voluntary reduction in work effort or the idea that recessions are actually good for the economy. Yet the current generation of freshwater economists has been making both arguments. Thus Chicago’s Casey Mulligan suggests that unemployment is so high because many workers are choosing not to take jobs: “Employees face financial incentives that encourage them not to work . . . decreased employment is explained more by reductions in the supply of labor (the willingness of people to work) and less by the demand for labor (the number of workers that employers need to hire).” Mulligan has suggested, in particular, that workers are choosing to remain unemployed because that improves their odds of receiving mortgage relief. And Cochrane declares that high unemployment is actually good: “We should have a recession. People who spend their lives pounding nails in Nevada need something else to do.”

Personally, I think this is crazy. Why should it take mass unemployment across the whole nation to get carpenters to move out of Nevada? Can anyone seriously claim that we’ve lost 6.7 million jobs because fewer Americans want to work? But it was inevitable that freshwater economists would find themselves trapped in this cul-de-sac: if you start from the assumption that people are perfectly rational and markets are perfectly efficient, you have to conclude that unemployment is voluntary and recessions are desirable.

Yet if the crisis has pushed freshwater economists into absurdity, it has also created a lot of soul-searching among saltwater economists. Their framework, unlike that of the Chicago School, both allows for the possibility of involuntary unemployment and considers it a bad thing. But the New Keynesian models that have come to dominate teaching and research assume that people are perfectly rational and financial markets are perfectly efficient. To get anything like the current slump into their models, New Keynesians are forced to introduce some kind of fudge factor that for reasons unspecified temporarily depresses private spending. (I’ve done exactly that in some of my own work.) And if the analysis of where we are now rests on this fudge factor, how much confidence can we have in the models’ predictions about where we are going?

The state of macro, in short, is not good. So where does the profession go from here?

VII. FLAWS AND FRICTIONS

Economics, as a field, got in trouble because economists were seduced by the vision of a perfect, frictionless market system. If the profession is to redeem itself, it will have to reconcile itself to a less alluring vision — that of a market economy that has many virtues but that is also shot through with flaws and frictions. The good news is that we don’t have to start from scratch. Even during the heyday of perfect-market economics, there was a lot of work done on the ways in which the real economy deviated from the theoretical ideal. What’s probably going to happen now — in fact, it’s already happening — is that flaws-and-frictions economics will move from the periphery of economic analysis to its center.

There’s already a fairly well developed example of the kind of economics I have in mind: the school of thought known as behavioral finance. Practitioners of this approach emphasize two things. First, many real-world investors bear little resemblance to the cool calculators of efficient-market theory: they’re all too subject to herd behavior, to bouts of irrational exuberance and unwarranted panic. Second, even those who try to base their decisions on cool calculation often find that they can’t, that problems of trust, credibility and limited collateral force them to run with the herd.

On the first point: even during the heyday of the efficient-market hypothesis, it seemed obvious that many real-world investors aren’t as rational as the prevailing models assumed. Larry Summers once began a paper on finance by declaring: “THERE ARE IDIOTS. Look around.” But what kind of idiots (the preferred term in the academic literature, actually, is “noise traders”) are we talking about? Behavioral finance, drawing on the broader movement known as behavioral economics, tries to answer that question by relating the apparent irrationality of investors to known biases in human cognition, like the tendency to care more about small losses than small gains or the tendency to extrapolate too readily from small samples (e.g., assuming that because home prices rose in the past few years, they’ll keep on rising).

Until the crisis, efficient-market advocates like Eugene Fama dismissed the evidence produced on behalf of behavioral finance as a collection of “curiosity items” of no real importance. That’s a much harder position to maintain now that the collapse of a vast bubble — a bubble correctly diagnosed by behavioral economists like Robert Shiller of Yale, who related it to past episodes of “irrational exuberance” — has brought the world economy to its knees.

On the second point: suppose that there are, indeed, idiots. How much do they matter? Not much, argued Milton Friedman in an influential 1953 paper: smart investors will make money by buying when the idiots sell and selling when they buy and will stabilize markets in the process. But the second strand of behavioral finance says that Friedman was wrong, that financial markets are sometimes highly unstable, and right now that view seems hard to reject.

Probably the most influential paper in this vein was a 1997 publication by Andrei Shleifer of Harvard and Robert Vishny of Chicago, which amounted to a formalization of the old line that “the market can stay irrational longer than you can stay solvent.” As they pointed out, arbitrageurs — the people who are supposed to buy low and sell high — need capital to do their jobs. And a severe plunge in asset prices, even if it makes no sense in terms of fundamentals, tends to deplete that capital. As a result, the smart money is forced out of the market, and prices may go into a downward spiral.

The spread of the current financial crisis seemed almost like an object lesson in the perils of financial instability. And the general ideas underlying models of financial instability have proved highly relevant to economic policy: a focus on the depleted capital of financial institutions helped guide policy actions taken after the fall of Lehman, and it looks (cross your fingers) as if these actions successfully headed off an even bigger financial collapse.

Meanwhile, what about macroeconomics? Recent events have pretty decisively refuted the idea that recessions are an optimal response to fluctuations in the rate of technological progress; a more or less Keynesian view is the only plausible game in town. Yet standard New Keynesian models left no room for a crisis like the one we’re having, because those models generally accepted the efficient-market view of the financial sector.

There were some exceptions. One line of work, pioneered by none other than Ben Bernanke working with Mark Gertler of New York University, emphasized the way the lack of sufficient collateral can hinder the ability of businesses to raise funds and pursue investment opportunities. A related line of work, largely established by my Princeton colleague Nobuhiro Kiyotaki and John Moore of the London School of Economics, argued that prices of assets such as real estate can suffer self-reinforcing plunges that in turn depress the economy as a whole. But until now the impact of dysfunctional finance hasn’t been at the core even of Keynesian economics. Clearly, that has to change.

VIII. RE-EMBRACING KEYNES

So here’s what I think economists have to do. First, they have to face up to the inconvenient reality that financial markets fall far short of perfection, that they are subject to extraordinary delusions and the madness of crowds. Second, they have to admit — and this will be very hard for the people who giggled and whispered over Keynes — that Keynesian economics remains the best framework we have for making sense of recessions and depressions. Third, they’ll have to do their best to incorporate the realities of finance into macroeconomics.

Many economists will find these changes deeply disturbing. It will be a long time, if ever, before the new, more realistic approaches to finance and macroeconomics offer the same kind of clarity, completeness and sheer beauty that characterizes the full neoclassical approach. To some economists that will be a reason to cling to neoclassicism, despite its utter failure to make sense of the greatest economic crisis in three generations. This seems, however, like a good time to recall the words of H. L. Mencken: “There is always an easy solution to every human problem — neat, plausible and wrong.”

When it comes to the all-too-human problem of recessions and depressions, economists need to abandon the neat but wrong solution of assuming that everyone is rational and markets work perfectly. The vision that emerges as the profession rethinks its foundations may not be all that clear; it certainly won’t be neat; but we can hope that it will have the virtue of being at least partly right.

Paul Krugman is a Times Op-Ed columnist and winner of the 2008 Nobel Memorial Prize in Economic Science. His latest book is “The Return of Depression Economics and the Crisis of 2008.”

People know that this institution has an important job to do in managing the nation’s money supply, and they hear the head of the Fed testify to Congress, citing complex data, making predictions, and attempting to intimidate anyone who would take issue with them. One would never suspect from their words that there is any mismanagement taking place. The head of the Fed always postures as master of the universe, someone completely knowledgeable and completely in control.

Read the whole chapter here

An interesting article by Simon Johnson and James Kwak:

If innovation must be good, then financial innovation should be good, too. If finance is the lifeblood of our economy, then figuring out new ways to pump blood through the economy should foster investment, entrepreneurialism, and progress. Right? This, in any case, has been the mantra throughout three decades of deregulation and expansion of the financial sector.

And yet today, financial innovation stands accused of being complicit in the financial crisis that has created the first global recession in decades. The very innovations that were celebrated by former Federal Reserve Chairman Alan Greenspan—negative-amortization mortgages, collateralized debt obligations (CDOs) and synthetic CDOs, and credit default swaps, among countless others—either amplified or caused the crisis, depending on your viewpoint. The journalist Michael Lewis recently argued that the credit default swaps sold by A.I.G. brought down the entire global financial system—and found that the A.I.G. traders he talked to completely agreed.

Recent financial innovation is not without its defenders, of course. As current Fed Chairman Ben Bernanke said in a speech in May:

We should also always keep in view the enormous economic benefits that flow from a healthy and innovative financial sector. The increasing sophistication and depth of financial markets promote economic growth by allocating capital where it can be most productive. And the dispersion of risk more broadly across the financial system has, thus far, increased the resilience of the system and the economy to shocks.

Intellectual conservatives and bankers have mounted an even more fervent defense of financial innovation. Niall Ferguson has claimed, “We need to remember that much financial innovation over the past 30 years was economically beneficial, and not just to the fat cats of Wall Street.” Bernanke and Ferguson are being too generous. For the past 30 years, financial innovation has increased costs and risks for both individual consumers and the global economy. To take the most obvious example, consumers bought houses they could not otherwise have bought using new mortgages they had no hope of repaying, creating a housing bubble, while new derivatives helped hide the risk of those mortgages, creating a securities bubble. The collapse of those bubbles has shaken the world for the last year. Today’s challenge is to rethink financial innovation and learn how to separate the good from the bad.

Financial innovation is different from what we traditionally think of as innovation, which, in recent years, has occurred most visibly in the field of information technology. Certainly, the financial services industry has taken advantage of technological innovation; you can now access your financial statements and pay your bills online, for example. However, these innovations do not affect the core function of the financial sector, which is financial intermediation—moving money from one place where it is not needed to another place where it is worth more.

The classic example of financial intermediation is the community savings bank. Ordinary people put their excess cash into savings accounts; the bank accumulates that money by paying interest and loans it out at a slightly higher rate as mortgages or commercial loans. Savers earn interest, households can buy homes without having to save for decades, and entrepreneurs can start or expand businesses.

The main purpose of financial innovation is to make financial intermediation happen where it would not have happened before. And that is what we have gotten over the last 30 years. As Ferguson said, “New vehicles like hedge funds gave investors like pension funds and endowments vastly more to choose from than the time-honored choice among cash, bonds, and stocks. Likewise, innovations like securitization lowered borrowing costs for most consumers.” But financial innovation is good only if it enables an economically productive use of money that would not otherwise occur. If a family is willing to pay $300,000 for a new house that costs $250,000 to build (including land), and they could pay off a loan comfortably over 30 years, then that is an economically productive use of money that would not occur if mortgages did not exist. But the mortgage does not make the world better in and of itself; that depends on someone else having found a useful way to employ money.

In addition, financial innovation can go too far much more easily than innovation in other sectors. Financial intermediation creates value by making credit more available to people who can use it effectively. But it is possible for the economy to be in a state where people have too much access to credit. With the benefit of hindsight, it is easy to see how the U.S. housing sector passed this point earlier this decade. With negative-amortization mortgages (where the monthly payment was less than the interest, causing the principal to go up) and stated-income loans (where the loan originator did not verify the borrower’s income), virtually anyone could buy a new house, leading developers to build tens of thousands of houses that are now rotting empty, their current value far less than their cost of construction. In short, excess financial intermediation, the result of hyperactive financial innovation, destroys value by causing people to make investments with negative returns. Put another way, we cannot say that innovation is necessarily good simply because there is a market for it. The fact that there was a market for new houses does not change the fact that building those houses was a spectacularly destructive waste of money. Therefore, when it comes to financial innovation, we must distinguish beneficial financial intermediation from excessive, destructive financial intermediation.

In the early 1970s, Mohammed Yunus lent $27 to 42 female basket weavers in a village in Bangladesh; they repaid the loan, with interest, from the proceeds of their sales. In 1976, he founded Grameen Bank to make small loans to poor villagers, often to fund startup costs for small ventures. Grameen Bank was the first modern provider of microcredit. Yunus’s innovation was to recognize that poor people could be good borrowers but had been ignored by a traditional banking sector that refused to or was unable to serve them. In other words, he found an economically productive use of money that was not otherwise occurring. How does recent financial innovation in the developed world compare?

Defenders of unfettered financial innovation depict the alternative as a stale, constricted market. As Bernanke said in April, “I don’t think anyone wants to go back to the 1970s. Financial innovation has improved access to credit, reduced costs, and increased choice. We should not attempt to impose restrictions on credit providers so onerous that they prevent the development of new products and services in the future.” However, as finance blogger Ryan Avent pointed out on Portfolio.com, Bernanke’s examples of beneficial innovation–credit cards, the Community Reinvestment Act, and securitization—all date back to the 1970s or earlier. True, securitization—the transformation of large, chunky loans into small pieces that can be easily distributed among many investors—was a beneficial innovation, because it expanded the pool of money available for lending. And securitization on its own, before the new products of the late 1990s and 2000s, did not produce the colossal boom and bust we have just lived through.

But more recent innovations in securitization led to a new generation of increasingly arcane, increasingly risky products that Bernanke, Ferguson, and others like to overlook. One of the paradigmatic products of the last ten years was the collateralized debt obligation (CDO), in which a structurer combined a pool of assets and sold off the cash flows from those assets to investors. CDOs did promote financial intermediation; those initial assets represent loans to real people and companies, and without the CDO market to absorb them, those loans might never have been made in the first place. But, as with negative-amortization mortgages, the key question is whether those loans should have been made at all.

The magic of a CDO, as explained in the research paper “The Economics of Structured Finance” by Joshua Coval, Jakub Jurek, and Erik Stafford, lies in how CDOs can be used to manufacture “safe” bonds (according to credit rating agencies) out of risky ones. Investors as a group were willing to buy CDOs when they would not have been willing to buy all the assets that went into those CDOs. We don’t have to decide who is to blame for this situation—structurers, credit rating agencies, or investors. The fact remains that at least some CDOs boosted financial intermediation by tricking investors into making investments they would not otherwise have made–because they destroyed value. Another paradigmatic product was the credit default swap, which insured a security (like a CDO) against the risk of default. But by underpricing that risk, it essentially tricked investors into buying securities that they would not otherwise have bought. The losses were borne by the companies that underpriced the credit default swaps, such as A.I.G., and by the government, which had to bail out A.I.G.—leading to the misallocation of capital to value-destroying investments. In other words, while securitization on its own provided real economic benefits, it is harder to defend the very popular, very destructive specific innovations it engendered. Contrary to Bernanke, maybe the regulatory world of the 1970s doesn’t look so bad after all.

The role of financial regulation should be to discourage innovation that produces excessive intermediation and promote innovation that delivers financial services that people need. The key to any successful regulatory regime is therefore discerning the difference between good and bad financial innovation. Right now, ours doesn’t. Unfortunately, the Obama Administration’s financial regulatory reform proposal, despite its improvements over the status quo, follows the old conventional wisdom—that innovation is inherently good, and regulators need only watch out for abnormal excesses or “bad apples.” Instead, the presumption should be that innovation in financial products is costly—it increases transaction costs, the cost of effective oversight, and the risk of unanticipated consequences—and should have to justify itself against those costs.

Instead of a regime where any product is allowed so long as it is sufficiently disclosed, we should consider a regime where only certain types of products are allowed to exist, and they are allowed to vary only along specific dimensions. Georgetown law professor Adam Levitin has argued that all of the “innovation” in the credit card industry has simply been the invention of new, more complicated, and less transparent fee structures, while the underlying product has remained the same for decades. He proposes that regulation should standardize the terms of credit cards, so that charges cannot be hidden in fine print, and issuers should be allowed to compete on the interest rate, the annual fee, and the transaction fee. This would ensure price competition while making it harder for consumers to end up with dangerous products that encourage excessive borrowing.

This model could be applied to a wider range of financial products, even to commercial products such as interest rate swaps and credit default swaps, which baffled a fair number of supposedly sophisticated players during the boom. For example, credit default swaps could be limited to a set of standardized terms—the security being insured, the premium, the length of time, the definition of a default event, the settlement date and mechanism—eliminating the complexity that makes customized CDS difficult to price, difficult to trade, and difficult for regulators to assess. While this could reduce the ability of firms to “perfectly” hedge their risks, it would also reduce transaction costs and, most importantly, reduce the systemic risk created by large, unknown derivatives positions. Customized credit default swaps could still be allowed but should be deterred (through taxation or other means) to ensure that they are only used when “vanilla” swaps are truly inappropriate.

At the same time, regulators should look to promote those forms of financial innovation that the economy sorely needs. One is better ways of providing financial services to the “unbanked” poor and minorities. Today, many inner-city neighborhoods are forced to rely on payday lenders and other high-cost intermediaries for basic banking services. Manuel Pastor of University of Southern California’s Program for Environmental and Regional Equity has shown that traditional banks can succeed in opening ordinary branches and offering ordinary services—savings accounts and accounts, mortgages, among others—in these neighborhoods. In addition to benefiting these communities, this would increase net savings and promote economic development.

Though it is not often thought about in these terms, reforming health insurance—to make it universally accessible and stable in its premiums—would be another financial innovation that would accrue both social and economic benefits. Because individual households’ economic fortunes are volatile, insurance is one of their core financial needs. It is generally possible to buy adequate auto, home, and life insurance, but for most people true long-term health insurance is simply not available. While a majority of Americans get health insurance through their jobs, many would be unable to remain insured should they become unemployed. What they have is subsidized health care during their term of employment; they don’t have true insurance. While there are several ways to do it, making individual health care policies available to everyone (and not subject to an accident of fate like a layoff or divorce) would allow consumers to better plan their economic lives. There could be no better embodiment of positive financial innovation.

Just as importantly, we need innovation in financial education. A large part of our regulatory system relies on consumers being able to make intelligent choices when faced by an ever increasing and ever more complex set of financial choices. The recent crisis has shown that even large and supposedly sophisticated investors, such as municipalities and pension funds, did not fully understand the products they were buying. Economist Robert Shiller has proposed government-subsidized financial advice; this may not be a sufficient solution, but it is a start. Obama’s proposed Consumer Financial Protection Agency (first proposed by Elizabeth Warren in Democracy, Issue #5, “Unsafe At Any Rate”) could also go far in improving consumers’ understanding of their financial options.

Simplifying the landscape of financial products, particularly those sold to consumers, will reduce the opportunities for service providers to generate non-interest fees from customers and will reduce the risk that households will make catastrophic financial decisions. Slowing the tendency toward excess financial intermediation will make it harder for the next credit bubble to form and reduce the severity of the next crisis. In these ways, a more critical eye toward financial innovation will help restore the balance that the American economy needs to produce long-term, sustainable growth.

From FT Alphaville

Pimco’s chief executive (Mohamed El-Erian) comments on Ben Bernanke’s reappointment for a second term at Chairman of the Federal Reserve.

President Obama’s announcement reappointing Fed Chairman Bernanke for a second four-year term does, and should, command broad based support.

Bernanke has played a major role in designing and implementing policies that averted an even larger global destruction of jobs and living standards around the world. Indeed, crisis management has defined Bernanke’s first term. His second term promises to be equally challenging as it will be defined by four major issues.

First, Bernanke will have to navigate the ‘how’ and ‘when’ of exiting from an unprecedented set of unconventional Fed policies. As Nouriel Roubini detailed in Monday’s Financial Times, this is no easy task. Too early an exit would push the US back into recession; and the more likely outcome of overstaying in the current policy regime would risk inflation down the road and undermine the proper functioning of some markets.

Second, Bernanke will have to defend the institutional integrity of the Fed. Politicians have woken up to the fact that the institution has enormous power to conduct the analytical equivalent of fiscal policies that normally fall under the domain of the executive and legislative branches of governments. The natural political tendency today is to limit the future ability of the Fed to respond in this way. While understandable, ill-designed and politically-driven reactions could result in more harm than good.

Third, Bernanke will have to revamp the operational focus of the Fed in the context of a major regulatory reform effort. Up until now, the focus has been on whether, in the balkanized world of US regulators, the institution should be the chief regulator. Bernanke will have to also lead the Fed into an operational regime where asset prices are better incorporated in the design of the policy reaction function. Indeed, if the erosion of the US global standing continues, Bernanke may also have to worry more about the impact of exchange rate changes.

Fourth, Bernanke will have to play an important role in the multi-agency, and hopefully cross-border design of better crisis prevention measures. Together with other policy makers, he will have to strike the right balance between prudential steps that curtail systemic risk and steps that would excessively undermine the channelling of credit to productive activities.

None of these issues is easy to  deal with on a standalone basis; and together they constitute a significant policy challenge. They will define Bernanke’s second term, requiring from him a tremendous degree of intellectual rigor, political savvy, steadfast commitment, and leadership. Based on the achievements of his first term, Bernanke is well placed  to address yet another set of difficult challenges.

Mohamed A. El-Erian is chief executive and co-chief investment officer of PIMCO. His book ‘When Markets Collide’ won the 2008 FT/Goldman Sachs Business Book of the Year. ]]> http://www.alongthemargin.com/archives/bernanke%e2%80%99s-four-point-%e2%80%98to-do%e2%80%99-list/feed 0