greeninvestment Blog

Sa

12

Dez

2009

We simple don't know

We simply do not know!

John Gray

  • Animal Spirits: How Human Psychology Drives the Economy, and Why It Matters for Global Capitalism by George Akerlof and Robert Shiller
    Princeton, 230 pp, £16.95, February 2009, ISBN 978 0 691 14233 3

The last two years, in which capitalism has suffered one of its periodic shocks, have given John Maynard Keynes a new lease of life. Events have demonstrated the limits of the theory that economies can be relied on to be stable if they are lightly regulated and otherwise left to themselves. There is now much talk of the paradox of thrift, whereby the rational choices of individuals can prove collectively ruinous, and of the need for government to counteract the inherently anarchic tendencies of markets. Keynes has been revived because he understood that markets are very often irrational. Unfortunately, few of those who urge that we go back to him seem to have understood why he believed this.

Apart from a brief postscript to one of the chapters and a few remarks in the preface, George Akerlof and Robert Shiller’s Animal Spirits was written before the current crisis. Yet, based on research undertaken over many years, it can be read as prefiguring the current disillusionment with economics. The trouble with prevailing theories, in Akerlof and Shiller’s view, is that they assume human beings are more rational than they actually are. ‘This book, which draws on an emerging field called behavioural economics, describes how the economy really works,’ they claim. ‘It accounts for how it works when people really are human, that is, possessed of all-too-human animal spirits.’

They point to five different ways in which these ‘animal spirits’ can affect economic behaviour. First, the state of the economy depends on the level of confidence we feel about the future, but confidence ‘is not just a rational prediction. It is the first and most crucial of our animal spirits.’ Second, a concern for fairness ‘can trump economic motivations’: elementary economics teaches that a rise in demand for shovels after a snowstorm should result in higher prices for shovels; but most people – 82 per cent of correspondents in a survey conducted by two behavioural economists – believe that raising the price would be unfair. Third, the actions of predatory corporations can have an impact on the entire economy: the belief that Enron had acted in bad faith led to people being ‘fed up with financial markets in general’, a shift of a kind that is ‘clearly within the realm of pure animal spirits’. Fourth, people make many of their economic decisions without taking account of inflation: instead of acting to maximise their real (inflation-adjusted) income, they succumb to ‘money illusion’. Finally, human behaviour is heavily influenced by stories, narratives with a dramatic logic that drives people to action. The internet boom at the start of the millennium was not just a response to the development of a new technology; it expressed a view of the world, including the belief that a new era had arrived in which the economic cycles of the past had ceased to operate.

As Akerlof and Shiller represent them, each of these manifestations of animal spirits shows behaviour being driven by forces other than reason. None of them offers rational grounds for action in any sense that most economists would recognise. Even so, the authors insist, these responses must enter into any account of how economies actually work. If economists have failed to explain repeated crises, it is because they have interpreted economic activity through an unreal model of rational decision-making. Thinking of human behaviour in this way allows them to claim a high degree of precision for their discipline, which is presented as a kind of applied mathematics. But they have left psychology out of their equations.

A cogent critique of the theoretical excesses of mainstream economics, Animal Spirits is well argued and also – no small virtue among economists – pleasingly written. At the same time, it is hardly the revolution in thinking that its authors claim. The observation that markets are prone to violent swings of emotion, recurrent illusions and powerful stories is a piece of perennial wisdom that was summarised in Charles Mackay’s Memories of Extraordinary Popular Delusions and the Madness of Crowds, published in 1841. More recently, George Soros has insisted that market behaviour is a reflexive process intrinsically liable to lead to cycles of boom and bust, as the beliefs and decisions of participants are reinforced by a desire to go with the trend until the market becomes unsustainable.

The fact that markets are flawed seems novel only in the context of the economic orthodoxy that prevailed between the wars, and in the run-up to the recent crisis. It is wrong to imply, as Akerlof and Shiller do, that the classical economists believed otherwise. ‘Just as Adam Smith’s invisible hand is the keynote of classical economics,’ they write, ‘Keynes’s animal spirits are the keynote to a different view of the economy – a view that explains the underlying instabilities of capitalism.’ Here they are endorsing the caricature of Smith propagated by neoliberal ideologues anxious to confer a distinguished patrimony on an illegitimate intellectual offspring. Certainly, the ‘invisible hand’ is one of Smith’s central ideas, but he never saw it as working in a mechanical fashion. A network of hidden adjustments whereby conflicting interests could be reconciled, in a complex process that always involved human emotions, the invisible hand was neither all-powerful nor uniformly benign. It could be thwarted by collusion among businessmen, and when given free rein its social effects could be seriously harmful. Like other thinkers of the Scottish Enlightenment, Smith understood the imperfectability of human institutions. He was concerned about the ways in which free markets detached people from communities, and some of these worries fed into the theory of alienation developed by that other celebrated classical economist, Karl Marx.

If Akerlof and Shiller’s grip on the history of economic thought is shaky, they also fail to grasp why Keynes rejected the idea that markets are self-stabilising. Throughout Animal Spirits they portray him as reintegrating psychology with economic theory. No doubt this was one of Keynes’s goals, but it is not his most fundamental revision of economic orthodoxy. Among his other accomplishments he was the author of A Treatise on Probability (1921), in which he tried to develop a theory of ‘rational degrees of belief’. By his own account he failed, and in his canonical General Theory of Employment, Interest and Money (1936) he concluded that there was no way anyone could make forecasts. Future interest rates and prices, new inventions and the likelihood of a European war cannot be predicted: there is no ‘basis on which to form any calculable probability whatever. We simply do not know!’ For Keynes, markets are unstable less because they are driven by emotion than because the future is unknowable. To suggest that the source of market volatility is unreason is to imply that if people were fully rational markets could be stable. But even if people were affectless calculating machines they would still be ignorant of the future, and markets would still be volatile. The root cause of market instability is the insuperable limitation of human knowledge.

Later economists have made much of a distinction between risk, which can be assessed in terms of quantifiable likelihood, and uncertainty, where probabilities cannot be attached to possible outcomes. The trouble is that when attempting to forecast the course of the economy we often cannot confidently distinguish between the two. Even our list of possible outcomes may turn out to have omitted the ones that are most important in shaping events. Such an omission was one of the factors that led Long-Term Capital Management, a highly leveraged hedge fund set up by two Nobel Prize winning economists, to fail in 1998-2000. The information used in applying the formula did not include the possibility of such events as the Asian financial crisis and Russia’s default on its sovereign debt, which destabilised global financial markets and helped destroy the fund. The orthodoxy that came unstuck with the collapse of LTCM was not faulty because it neglected the vagaries of human moods; its mistake was to think that the unknown future could be turned into a set of calculable risks and, in effect, conjured out of existence, which was impossible. Several centuries earlier, Pascal – one of the founders of probability theory – had come to the same conclusion, when in the Pensées he asks ironically: ‘Is it probable that probability brings certainty?’

The central flaw of the economic orthodoxy against which Keynes fought in the 1930s was to imagine that an insoluble problem – human ignorance of the future – had been solved. The error was repeated in the 1990s, when economists came to believe that complex mathematical formulae could tame uncertainty in the murky world of derivatives. Steeped in history as they were, this was a delusion that none of the classical economists entertained. It began to shape economics only towards the end of the 19th century, with the rise of Positivism, according to which the natural sciences are the only legitimate repository of human knowledge. It was the formative influence of this philosophy on the Chicago School that enabled the orthodoxy of the 1930s to re-emerge triumphant, and the result was an immense boost to the prestige of economics as a discipline. Economists could claim to be scientists, who with the aid of their mathematical magic could pierce the veil that conceals the future.

The hegemony of Positivism in economics obscured Keynes’s scepticism about probabilistic knowledge, his most important contribution to the discipline. G.L.S. Shackle set Keynes’s argument out systematically in his neglected masterpiece Epistemics and Economics: A Critique of Economic Doctrines (1972). Shackle is probably the only significant economist to have been influenced both by Keynes and by his arch-rival, F.A. Hayek. He knew both of them well, but argued that neither had digested the full implications for economics of our ignorance of the future. Hayek said that governments could never know enough to plan the economy successfully – a claim vindicated by the miserable record of central planning in Communist countries. At the same time, he attributed near omniscience to markets, and never doubted that if left to its own devices the economy would liquidate mistaken investments and return to equilibrium. Against this, Keynes had shown that there is no market mechanism that ensures revival; economic contraction can be self-reinforcing, and only government action can then create a way out.

Shackle took Keynes’s argument a step further, and showed that no economic policy can ensure economic stability indefinitely. ‘Keynesian’ policies are no exception to this rule. Deficit financing and monetary expansion may have worked well in the conditions that existed after the Second World War. It is not clear that they will be so effective today, when globalisation has brought a freedom of capital movements that did not exist then. The lesson of Shackle is that we must be resourceful in devising new remedies, while not losing sight of the fact that none of them works for long.

Akerlof and Shiller claim that their account of the role of psychology helps to explain the financial crisis. ‘Our theory of animal spirits,’ they say, ‘provides an answer to a conundrum: why did most of us utterly fail to foresee the current economic crisis? How can we understand this crisis when it seems to have come out of the blue with no cause?’ They are right that part of the answer lies in an intellectual default within economics, but they seem oblivious of the role of ideology in producing this default. The deformation of economics was not the result only of factors internal to the discipline, it was also part of the short-lived Western triumphalism that followed the end of the Cold War.

Those were the years when slackers throughout the world were enjoined to submit themselves to the rigours of ‘the Washington consensus’ – a mix of dogmatic policy prescriptions and hypocritical rhetoric that enjoyed the support of the great majority of economists. According to that consensus, the market regime that was installed in Britain, the US and a few other countries from the 1980s onwards could not only ensure stability and promote steady growth there but was a model – the only possible model – for countries everywhere. The one truly rational economic regime, free market capitalism, was also the most productive. As such it was bound to drive every other system out of existence, and would eventually be adopted worldwide. This faith in the universal spread of free markets animated much of the thinking of the American-led institutions overseeing the world economy, such as the IMF. Along with economists in university departments in much of the world, these institutions succumbed to a quasi-religious belief that the free market was the germ of a single, universal economic system.

Not everyone swallowed this creed. It was not accepted in China, which then as now displayed a well-founded contempt for Western advice – an attitude that has much to do with its astonishing economic success. Whether in the face of global recession China can continue to grow at the same rate is unclear – as Keynes would have put it, we simply don’t know. Nonetheless, its emergence as an economic superpower poses questions for economics that are harder to answer than is generally recognised. Economists do not always take the neoliberal party line, according to which growth can be sustained only in a regime of deregulated capitalism; the evidence of history precludes any such simple-minded view. Liberal capitalism has achieved striking results (though in the US, often against the background of trade protection), but so have many varieties of dirigisme, from rapid growth in late tsarist Russia to Asian market economies in the decades after 1945. Economic historians whose minds are not befogged by ideology accept that there are many routes to growth. At the same time, nearly all Western-trained economists insist that sustained growth is impossible in the absence of a legal system that allows the independent rule of law and secure rights to private property. Without this framework, they believe, there will not be the incentives required for long-term saving and investment.

But China has achieved the largest and fastest industrialisation in history without having such a legal system. Until recently, Western economists, along with other Western observers, were adamant that China would continue to be successful only to the extent that it mimicked Western practice. Now that Western economies are in trouble this confidence has been shaken, and China is once again being perceived as alien and dangerous. There is no real attempt to try to understand the sources of its success. Like other branches of the study of society, economics remains culturally parochial, and its underlying concepts based on a few centuries of Western experience.

To their credit, Akerlof and Shiller do discuss how motives not normally regarded as economic have contributed to China’s growth. An appeal to patriotism helped persuade villagers to contribute to the regime’s plans for economic growth in the 1970s, so that ‘a national story began to grip the imagination of the people of China, a story of individual effort and sacrifice.’ One may doubt whether this is the whole story, but it is suggestive, because it illustrates the unreality of the notion that the behaviour of markets is governed by strictly ‘economic’ motivations. Much of Akerlof and Shiller’s analysis is an implicit criticism of this notion, and yet – in conformity with the narrow explanatory model of market behaviour they aim to criticise – they invoke it whenever they suggest that deviations from economic rationality account for instability in markets. They don’t appear to realise that the assumption of a categorical distinction between ‘economic’ and ‘non-economic’ motives is one of the chief reasons recent economic theory has been so consistently remote from reality.

Keynes and the classical economists before him knew that there is no realm of market exchange that obeys laws of the kind that can be formulated in the natural sciences. Economics and politics are not separate branches of human activity, and economic life cannot be studied independently of social divisions and political conflicts among populations, along with their cultures and religions. Familiar to Keynes and most of the economists of his generation, these truisms have been forgotten, or rejected, by many economists today. The result is an economic imperialism that tries to explain every human activity in terms of a conception of rational action that does not work even when applied to the behaviour of markets.

Of course, there is a standard response to these observations, which is that unrealism in economic theories doesn’t matter. As developed by Milton Friedman, among others, this is in effect a version of instrumentalism, a tenable position in the philosophy of science. For instrumentalists, the goal of science is not a true representation of the world; it is to organise our observations into a theoretical framework that serves practical goals, such as prediction and control. But what practical goals have been served by the type of economics dominant over the past two decades? It has been useful neither in making predictions nor in responding to unforeseen developments.

Akerlof and Shiller intend their analysis to contribute to an intellectual reformation in economics, as a consequence of which the discipline will become more useful to policy-makers. It must be doubted, though, that the authors will succeed in persuading economists of the inadequacy of the conception of rational action. The profession is one of the few areas of human activity in which that conception is applicable. In its intra-academic varieties, at any rate, economics is insulated from the world not only by its narrow explanatory methodology but also because it rewards the mathematical modelling that resulted in nearly all of its members failing to anticipate the financial crisis. As institutionalised in universities, the notion of rational decision-making is self-perpetuating. Economics as currently practised may have only a slight grip on market behaviour, but it seems to be powerfully predictive of the behaviour of economists.

 

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Fr

23

Okt

2009

Repowering

Michael Müller: Städte, Gemeinden und Industrie profitieren bei Erneuerungen von Windparks

Durch Repowering werden Flächen effizienter genutzt und Anwohnerbelange stärker berücksichtigt


Das Bundesumweltministerium unterstützt den Austausch älterer Windräder durch neue, leistungsstärkere Anlagen - im Fachjargon als "Repowering" bezeichnet. "Repowering eröffnet Städten und Gemeinden die Chance, Fehlentwicklungen der Vergangenheit zu korrigieren und am wirtschaftlichen Boom der Windenergie teilzuhaben", sagte der Parlamentarische Staatssekretär im Bundesumweltministerium Michael Müller heute in Duisburg vor Wissenschaftlern, Vertretern von Windenergie-Unternehmen und dem Städte- und Gemeindebund. Durch eine Neuordnung der Standorte könnten vorhandene Flächen effizienter genutzt und die Belange von Anwohnern noch stärker berücksichtigt werden.

Um Städte und Gemeinden beim Repowering zu unterstützen hat das Bundesumweltministerium einen praxisorientierten Leitfaden erarbeiten lassen, der insbesondere Kommunen Hinweise zur planungsrechtlichen Absicherung und Entwicklung einer geeigneten Repowering-Strategie gibt. Darüber hinaus gibt er umfassend Auskunft zu anlagentechnischen Fragen, zu Fragen der Akzeptanz und zu Naturschutzbelangen.

Müller: "Mit der Novelle des erfolgreichen Erneuerbare-Energien-Gesetzes hat die Politik stabile rechtliche Rahmenbedingungen geschaffen und gezielte wirtschaftliche Anreize für das Repowering gesetzt. Jetzt müssen wir auch die letzten Hürden nehmen." Beispielsweise müssten unnötige Lichtsignale auf den Anlagen verschwinden und durch eine moderne, bedarfsorientierte Befeuerungstechnik ersetzt werden. Zudem dürfe überholte militärische Technik, wie Radaranlagen aus den 70er-Jahren, den Strukturwandel in der Energieversorgung nicht behindern. "Auch Verkehrs- und Verteidigungsministerium müssen sich ihrer Verantwortung für den Klimaschutz stellen", forderte Müller.

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Di

17

Mär

2009

Makro Argumentation MIT Prof.

Vulgar Keynesians
A penny spent is not a penny earned?

By Paul Krugman
(1,799 words; posted Thursday, Feb. 6; to be composted Thursday, Feb. 13)

       Economics, like all intellectual enterprises, is subject to the law of diminishing disciples. A great innovator is entitled to some poetic license. If his ideas are at first somewhat rough, if he exaggerates the discontinuity between his vision and what came before, no matter: Polish and perspective can come in due course. But inevitably there are those who follow the letter of the innovator's ideas but misunderstand their spirit, who are more dogmatic in their radicalism than the orthodox were in their orthodoxy. And as ideas spread, they become increasingly simplistic--until what eventually becomes part of the public consciousness, part of what "everyone knows," is no more than a crude caricature of the original.
       Such has been the fate of Keynesian economics. John Maynard Keynes himself was a magnificently subtle and innovative thinker. Yet one of his unfortunate if unintentional legacies was a style of thought--call it vulgar Keynesianism--that confuses and befogs economic debate to this day.
       Before the 1936 publication of Keynes' The General Theory of Employment, Interest, and Money, economists had developed a rich and insightful theory of microeconomics, of the behavior of individual markets and the allocation of resources among them. But macroeconomics--the study of economy-wide events like inflation and deflation, booms and slumps--was in a state of arrested development that left it utterly incapable of making sense of the Great Depression.

Illustration by Robert Neubecker        So-called "classical" macroeconomics asserted that the economy had a long-run tendency to return to full employment, and focused only on that long run. Its two main tenets were the quantity theory of money--the assertion that the overall level of prices was proportional to the quantity of money in circulation--and the "loanable funds" theory of interest, which asserted that interest rates would rise or fall to equate total savings with total investment.
       Keynes was willing to concede that in some sufficiently long run, these theories might indeed be valid; but, as he memorably pointed out, "In the long run we are all dead." In the short run, he asserted, interest rates were determined not by the balance between savings and investment at full employment but by "liquidity preference"--the public's desire to hold cash unless offered a sufficient incentive to invest in less safe and convenient assets. Savings and investment were still necessarily equal; but if desired savings at full employment turned out to exceed desired investment, what would fall would be not interest rates but the level of employment and output. In particular, if investment demand should fall for whatever reason--such as, say, a stock-market crash--the result would be an economy-wide slump.
       It was a brilliant re-imagining of the way the economy worked, one that received quick acceptance from the brightest young economists of the time. True, some realized very early that Keynes' picture was oversimplified; in particular, that the level of employment and output would normally feed back to interest rates, and that this might make a lot of difference. Still, for a number of years after the publication of The General Theory, many economic theorists were fascinated by the implications of that picture, which seemed to take us into a looking-glass world in which virtue was punished and self-indulgence rewarded.
       Consider, for example, the "paradox of thrift." Suppose that for some reason the savings rate--the fraction of income not spent--goes up. According to the early Keynesian models, this will actually lead to a decline in total savings and investment. Why? Because higher desired savings will lead to an economic slump, which will reduce income and also reduce investment demand; since in the end savings and investment are always equal, the total volume of savings must actually fall!
       Or consider the "widow's cruse" theory of wages and employment (named after an old folk tale). You might think that raising wages would reduce the demand for labor; but some early Keynesians argued that redistributing income from profits to wages would raise consumption demand, because workers save less than capitalists (actually they don't, but that's another story), and therefore increase output and employment.

Such paradoxes are still fun to contemplate; they still appear in some freshman textbooks. Nonetheless, few economists take them seriously these days. There are a number of reasons, but the most important can be stated in two words: Alan Greenspan.
       After all, the simple Keynesian story is one in which interest rates are independent of the level of employment and output. But in reality the Federal Reserve Board actively manages interest rates, pushing them down when it thinks employment is too low and raising them when it thinks the economy is overheating. You may quarrel with the Fed chairman's judgment--you may think that he should keep the economy on a looser rein--but you can hardly dispute his power. Indeed, if you want a simple model for predicting the unemployment rate in the United States over the next few years, here it is: It will be what Greenspan wants it to be, plus or minus a random error reflecting the fact that he is not quite God.

Illustration by Robert Neubecker
But putting Greenspan (or his successor) into the picture restores much of the classical vision of the macroeconomy. Instead of an invisible hand pushing the economy toward full employment in some unspecified long run, we have the visible hand of the Fed pushing us toward its estimate of the noninflationary unemployment rate over the course of two or three years. To accomplish this, the board must raise or lower interest rates to bring savings and investment at that target unemployment rate in line with each other. And so all the paradoxes of thrift, widow's cruses, and so on become irrelevant. In particular, an increase in the savings rate will translate into higher investment after all, because the Fed will make sure that it does.
       To me, at least, the idea that changes in demand will normally be offset by Fed policy--so that they will, on average, have no effect on employment--seems both simple and entirely reasonable. Yet it is clear that very few people outside the world of academic economics think about things that way. For example, the debate over the North American Free Trade Agreement was conducted almost entirely in terms of supposed job creation or destruction. The obvious (to me) point that the average unemployment rate over the next 10 years will be what the Fed wants it to be, regardless of the U.S.-Mexico trade balance, never made it into the public consciousness. (In fact, when I made that argument at one panel discussion in 1993, a fellow panelist--a NAFTA advocate, as it happens--exploded in rage: "It's remarks like that that make people hate economists!")

What has made it into the public consciousness--including, alas, that of many policy intellectuals who imagine themselves well informed--is a sort of caricature Keynesianism, the hallmark of which is an uncritical acceptance of the idea that reduced consumer spending is always a bad thing. In the United States, where inflation and the budget deficit have receded for the time being, vulgar Keynesianism has recently staged an impressive comeback. The paradox of thrift and the widow's cruse are both major themes in William Greider's latest book, which I discussed last month. (Although it is doubtful whether Greider is aware of the source of his ideas--as Keynes wrote, "Practical men, who believe themselves quite exempt from any intellectual influence, are usually the slaves of some defunct economist.") It is perhaps not surprising that the same ideas are echoed by John B. Judis in the New Republic; but when you see the idea that higher savings will actually reduce growth treated seriously in Business Week ("Looking for Growth in All the Wrong Places," Feb. 3), you realize that there is a real cultural phenomenon developing.
       To justify the claim that savings are actually bad for growth (as opposed to the quite different, more reasonable position that they are not as crucial as some would claim), you must convincingly argue that the Fed is impotent--that it cannot, by lowering interest rates, ensure that an increase in desired savings gets translated into higher investment.

It is not enough to argue that interest rates are only one of several influences on investment. That is like saying that my pressure on the gas pedal is only one of many influences on the speed of my car. So what? I am able to adjust that pressure, and so my car's speed is normally determined by how fast I think I can safely drive. Similarly, Greenspan is able to change interest rates freely (the Fed can double the money supply in a day, if it wants to), and so the level of employment is normally determined by how high he thinks it can safely go--end of story.
       No, to make sense of the claim that savings are bad you must argue either that interest rates have no effect on spending (try telling that to the National Association of Homebuilders) or that potential savings are so high compared with investment opportunities that the Fed cannot bring the two in line even at a near-zero interest rate. The latter was a reasonable position during the 1930s, when the rate on Treasury bills was less than one-tenth of 1 percent; it is an arguable claim right now for Japan, where interest rates are about 1 percent. (Actually, I think that the Bank of Japan could still pull that economy out of its funk, and that its passivity is a case of gross malfeasance. That, however, is a subject for another column.) But the bank that holds a mortgage on my house sends me a little notice each month assuring me that the interest rate in America is still quite positive, thank you.
       Anyway, this is a moot point, because the people who insist that savings are bad do not think that the Fed is impotent. On the contrary, they are generally the same people who insist that the disappointing performance of the U.S. economy over the past generation is all the Fed's fault, and that we could grow our way out of our troubles if only Greenspan would let us.

Let's quote the Feb. 3 Business Week commentary:

Some contrarian economists argue that forcing up savings is likely to slow the economy, depressing investment rather than sparking it. "You need to stimulate the investment decision," says University of Texas economist James K. Galbraith, a Keynesian. He would rather stimulate growth by cutting interest rates.

       So, increasing savings will slow the economy--presumably because the Fed cannot induce an increase in investment by cutting interest rates. Instead, the Fed should stimulate growth by cutting interest rates, which will work because lower interest rates will induce an increase in investment.
       Am I missing something?

To read the reply of "Vulgar Keynesian" James K. Galbraith, in which he explains green cheese and Keynes, click here.


 Links

Here is a biography of the revered Keynes, complete with a photo. The Great Depression home page analyzes the causes of the Depression from a Keynesian perspective. Check out the Web page of the "visible hand," the Federal Reserve. If you have any doubt that Alan Greenspan is near-omnipotent, see the text of his subtle speech that sent stocks crashing and an article explaining the mayhem. Decide whether you believe NAFTA will affect the employment rate in the United States: The NAFTA net page has the text of the agreement as well as several sources of information on it.

Paul Krugman is a professor of economics at MIT whose books include The Age of Diminished Expectations and Peddling Prosperity.

Illustrations by Robert Neubecker

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Di

10

Mär

2009

Slash and burn

 

Stockmarkets and dividends

Slash and burn

Mar 5th 2009
From The Economist print edition

Stockmarkets grapple with savage reductions in companies’ dividends

 

Illustration by Claudio Munoz

IT FELT like death by a thousand cuts. Already this month has seen plenty to rattle stockmarkets, from dreadful economic news to the continuing bloodshed at American International Group, an insurer. Commodity firms were given a reprieve on March 4th by hopes of a big stimulus package in China—though all they got was reaffirmation of the country’s 8% growth target. Meanwhile, a new fear haunts the markets: the mounting number of firms slashing their dividends.

That banks and insurance companies will chop their payments is now understood, but the pain has spread. General Electric (GE) has cut its dividend for the first time in 71 years, Dow Chemical for the first time since 1912. In Europe previously reliable payers like Telecom Italia and Anglo-American, a mining firm, have reduced their payouts, and even BP has said it cannot increase its dividend at today’s oil prices. Income investors were left to ponder Eurotunnel, the operator of the rail link between France and Britain, which will pay the first dividend since its creation in 1986. Its $9m may buy a few tissues for those mourning the loss of $9 billion of annual payouts from GE alone.