Singing Keynes' praises

Philip Booth reviews "Masters of Money".

Last night's BBC documentary Keynes in the Masters of Money series will be followed by two others on Hayek and Marx. The first programme was brilliantly presented by Stephanie Flanders, though perhaps it was too strong in its praise of its subject. The uncritical nature of the programme is not necessarily inappropriate as Stephanie Flanders made clear that she was presenting Keynes as a hugely important figure in post-1930s Britain, rather than as being correct on all matters of economics. Perhaps, by way of balance, Hayek will get the same enthusiastic treatment next Monday.

As a person, Keynes was portrayed by his supporters as a "we are all in this together" sort of a chap. Some might find this difficult to square with his support for eugenics. There is a temptation amongst those of a left-leaning persuasion to assume that those who want to use deliberate government intervention to avoid misery are necessarily more concerned for the plight of all the people than those of us who believe in freedom - this is by no means the case.

Similarly, there was much discussion of his supposed internationalism and his efforts to ensure that we had a world monetary order that enabled the weak to prosper alongside the strong. However, in 1933 Keynes said: "I sympathise, therefore, with those who would minimise, rather than with those who would maximise, economic entanglement between nations.[L]et goods be homespun whenever it is reasonably and conveniently possible. I am inclined to the belief that, after the transition is accomplished, a greater measure of national self-sufficiency and economic isolation between countries than existed in 1914 may tend to serve the cause of peace." This was not an isolated statement on such matters.

The issue of whether Keynes was right or wrong on the issues we today call "Keynesian" was skirted round. Apart from my own brief appearances, and criticisms from Kenneth Rogoff and some pertinent comments from David Laws, commentators had few reservations.

Let's take first the issue of the Great Depression. Britain was out of depression long before General Theory was published. Indeed, by 1936, output had almost would soon recover to the point which it would have reached had we seen trend growth from 1929. Britain did so with very tight fiscal policy. Monetary policy was very loose, of course, after coming off gold. But, this is precisely the policy that Keynes said would not work. It was used. It worked.

The US, on the other hand, had her Hoover dams and other major Keynesian projects. They were described in the programme as having created thousands of jobs. Perhaps they did. The point about Keynesian economics is that it is not very good at probing into both the "seen" and the "unseen". Economists should not generalise from the particular. Certainly, in terms of its effects on the economy as a whole, US policy in the Great Depression was an abject failure. Indeed, as Stephanie Flanders said, the US was not out of depression at the outbreak of war. In other words, there were 17 years between 1929 and sustained peacetime growth. Why was this? Perhaps it was something to do with the fact that, even if stimulus policies work in theory (doubtful in itself), they do not work in practice once put in the hands of politicians. Maybe the policy uncertainty created by giving government greater powers keeps those animal spirits low.

Arguably the worst prediction of the night came from Joseph Stiglitz. He said - presumably in March when other interviews were filmed - that we know what will almost certainly happen if the government does not borrow more money: "unemployment will go up." Unemployment has fallen every month since. We have a growth problem but, surely, if Keynes' economics of recession is about anything, it is about rigidities in labour markets rather than the enhancement of productivity necessary for growth. But, prediction is not Stiglitz's strong point. In a co-authored paper with one of President Obama's later Chief Economic Advisors, he said when commenting on the introduction of a new capital standard in 2002: "on the basis of historical experience, the risk to the government from a potential default on GSE [Fannie Mae and Freddia Mac] debt is effectively zero."

Would Keynes be on Stiglitz's side today? Who knows? And this was one issue on which Stephanie Flanders was deliberately equivocal. It is widely thought that Hayek did not review General Theory because he believed that Keynes would change his mind about the issues - as he did with Treatise on Money. Certainly, there is no reason to think that he would have proposed what came to be called Keynesian policies in countries already borrowing eight per cent of national income, where the government is spending 50 per cent of national income, where unemployment is falling and where real wages seem to be adjusting.

The role of money in creating the Great Depression was not mentioned in the programme - despite the widespread consensus on this issue. The cause was animal spirits, pure and simple. The same cause was cited for the crash of 2008. Indeed, it was even argued that before the crash politicians had been preaching (and it was implied practising) uncritically the doctrine of free markets only to be derailed by animal spirits. No mention of monetary policy and the "Greenspan put". No mention of too big to fail. No mention of Fannie and Freddie or Basel II. No mention of US bankruptcy law. No mention of the policy of encouraging home ownership amongst those who could not afford it. No mention of US deposit insurance which never had the risk-based premiums that were supposed to be levied. No mention of government spending accelerating in countries such as the UK, US, Portugal, Spain and so on. Hopefully, these causes will be presented in next week's programme. A government that follows the above policies and spends nearly twice as much as a proportion of national income as even Keynes thought desirable is not practising a free-market policy.

In a long feature on the euro crisis, it was suggested by the greatest weight of voices that Keynes would today have been warning against strong countries imposing austerity on the weak through government spending cuts and thus causing the violent protests. In fact, although he may well have recommended debt forgiveness, it is certainly not clear what Keynes might have thought on the issue of reducing government spending in countries where it has reached unsustainable levels.

We were also told that our international economic relationships would have been transformed if we had followed his advice and had a fixed exchange rate system where both surplus and deficit countries made adjustments. This may or may not be true, but surely Keynes would have pointed his finger at the deficit countries when Bretton Woods collapsed in the early 1970s, the seeds of which were sown a few years earlier. The problem then was not German deflation (inflation was low but positive) but US and UK inflation (the former caused by government spending on welfare and the Vietnam War, the latter by general indiscipline).

Indeed, famously, when the facts changed, Keynes changed his mind. Perhaps he would have learned to like floating exchange rates, which lead to the beggar-my-neighbour policies the programme criticised becoming an irrelevance. Perhaps Keynes would have seen floating exchange rates and the free movement of capital as the best way to facilitate economic adjustments between very different countries suffering from asymmetric shocks (though not to provide an excuse for endemic inflation).

Stephanie Flanders ended with a paradox. This man who believed in animal spirits and the unpredictability of human nature also believed in governments steering the economy. Next week, perhaps, we will hear that this is not just a paradox, but a contradiction. Perhaps we will hear too that, when people take responsibility for their own financial recklessness and respond to the diverse signals that they see in market prices, the economy can self-correct much more effectively than it can ever be steered by intelligent people in Whitehall - and recessions will be that much shorter.

Philip Booth is Editorial and Programme Director at the Institute of Economic Affairs

Keynes. Photograph: Getty Images

Philip Booth is Editorial and Programme Director at the Institute of Economic Affairs.

 

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How Donald Trump is slouching towards the Republican nomination

There was supposed to be a ceiling above which Trump’s popular support could not climb.

In America, you can judge a crowd by its merchandise. Outside the Connecticut Convention Centre in Hartford, frail old men and brawny moms are selling “your Trump 45 football jerseys”, “your hats”, “your campaign buttons”. But the hottest item is a T-shirt bearing the slogan “Hillary sucks . . . but not like Monica!” and, on the back: “Trump that bitch!” Inside, beyond the checkpoint manned by the Transportation Security Administration and the secret service (“Good!” the man next to me says, when he sees the agents), is a family whose three kids, two of them girls, are wearing the Monica shirt.

Other people are content with the shirts they arrived in (“Waterboarding – baptising terrorists with freedom” and “If you don’t BLEED red, white and blue, take your bitch ass home!”). There are 80 chairs penned off for the elderly but everyone else is standing: guys in motorcycle and military gear, their arms folded; aspiring deal-makers, suited, on cellphones; giggling high-school fatsos, dressed fresh from the couch, grabbing M&M’s and Doritos from the movie-theatre-style concession stands. So many baseball hats; deep, bellicose chants of “Build the wall!” and “USA!”. (And, to the same rhythm, “Don-ald J!”)

A grizzled man in camouflage pants and combat boots, whose T-shirt – “Connecticut Militia III%” – confirms him as a member of the “patriot” movement, is talking to a zealous young girl in a short skirt, who came in dancing to “Uptown Girl”.

“Yeah, we were there for Operation American Spring,” he says. “Louis Farrakhan’s rally of hate . . .”

“And you’re a veteran?” she asks. “Thank you so much!”

Three hours will pass. A retired US marine will take the rostrum to growl, “God bless America – hoo-rah!”; “Uptown Girl” will play many more times (much like his speeches, Donald J’s playlist consists of a few items, repeated endlessly), before Trump finally looms in and asks the crowd: “Is this the greatest place on Earth?”

There was supposed to be a ceiling above which Trump’s popular support could not climb. Only a minority within a minority of Americans, it was assumed, could possibly be stupid enough to think a Trump presidency was a good idea. He won New Hampshire and South Carolina with over 30 per cent of the Republican vote, then took almost 46 per cent in Nevada. When he cleaned up on Super Tuesday in March, he was just shy of 50 per cent in Massachusetts; a week later, he took 47 per cent of the votes in Mississippi.

His rivals, who are useless individually, were meant to co-operate with each other and the national party to deny him the nomination. But Trump won four out of the five key states being contested on “Super-Duper Tuesday” on 15 March. Then, as talk turned to persuading and co-opting his delegates behind the scenes, Trump won New York with 60 per cent.

Now, the campaign is trying to present Trump as more “presidential”. According to his new manager, Paul Manafort, this requires him to appear in “more formal settings” – without, of course, diluting “the unique magic of Trump”. But whether or not he can resist denouncing the GOP and the “corrupt” primary system, and alluding to violence if he is baulked at at the convention, the new Trump will be much the same as the old.

Back in Hartford: “The Republicans wanna play cute with us, right? If I don’t make it, you’re gonna have millions of people that don’t vote for a Republican. They’re not gonna vote at all,” says Trump. “Hopefully that’s all, OK? Hopefully that’s all, but they’re very, very angry.”

This anger, which can supposedly be turned on anyone who gets in the way, has mainly been vented, so far, on the protesters who disrupt Trump’s rallies. “We’re not gonna be the dummies that lose all of our jobs now. We’re gonna be the smart ones. Oh, do you have one over there? There’s one of the dummies . . .”

There is a frenzied fluttering of Trump placards, off to his right. “Get ’em out! . . . Don’t hurt ’em – see how nice I am? . . . They really impede freedom of speech and it’s a disgrace. But the good news is, folks, it won’t be long. We’re just not taking it and it won’t be long.”

It is their removal by police, at Trump’s ostentatious behest, that causes the disruption, rather than the scarcely audible protesters. He seems to realise this, suddenly: “We should just let ’em . . . I’ll talk right over them, there’s no problem!” But it’s impossible to leave the protesters where they are, because it would not be safe. His crowd is too vicious.

Exit Trump, after exactly half an hour, inclusive of the many interruptions. His people seem uplifted but, out on the street, they are ambushed by a large counter-demonstration, with a booming drum and warlike banners and standards (“Black Lives Matter”; an image of the Virgin of Guadalupe, holding aloft Trump’s severed head). Here is the rest of the world, the real American world: young people, beautiful people, more female than male, every shade of skin colour. “F*** Donald Trump!” they chant.

After a horrified split-second, the Trump crowd, massively more numerous, rallies with “USA!” and – perplexingly, since one of the main themes of the speech it has just heard was the lack of jobs in Connecticut – “Get a job!” The two sides then mingle, unobstructed by police. Slanging matches break out that seem in every instance to humiliate the Trump supporter. “Go to college!” one demands. “Man, I am in college, I’m doin’ lovely!”

There is no violence, only this: some black boys are dancing, with liquid moves, to the sound of the drum. Four young Trump guys counter by stripping to their waists and jouncing around madly, their skin greenish-yellow under the street lights, screaming about the building of the wall. There was no alcohol inside; they’re drunk on whatever it is – the elixir of fascism, the unique magic of Trump. It’s a hyper but not at all happy drunk.

As with every other moment of the Trump campaign so far, it would have been merely some grade of the cringeworthy – the embarrassing, the revolting, the pitiful – were Trump not slouching closer and closer, with each of these moments, to his nomination. 

This article first appeared in the 28 April 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The new fascism