Explaining the last ten years

The Great Recession was larger than any previous post WWII recession. But that is not what it will be mainly remembered for. Unlike previous recessions, it appears to have led to, or coincided with, a permanent reduction in the productive potential [1] of the economy relative to previous trends. As unemployment today in the US and UK is not very different from pre-recession levels, then another way of saying the same thing is that growth in labour productivity and real wages over the last seven years has been much lower than pre-recession trends. (As employment has not yet recovered in Europe, I will focus on the US and UK here.)

I have posted charts showing this for the UK many times, so here is something similar for the US. It plots the log of real GDP (green) against the CBO’s (Congressional Budget Office) estimate of potential output (yellow). Unlike the UK, potential growth in the US does not appear constant from 1955, but the CBO has potential output growth between 3 to 3.5% in most years between 1970 and the early 2000s. The break created by the Great Recession is clear: potential growth fell to as low as 1% immediately after the recession, is currently running at 1.5%, and the CBO hopes it will recover to 2% by 2020.

US Actual (green) and Potential (yellow, source CBO) Output, logged. Source: FRED.

There seem to be two ways of thinking about this decline in potential output growth. One is that the slowdown in productivity growth was happening anyway, and has nothing to do with the global financial crisis and recession. This seems unlikely to be the major story. For the UK we have to rewrite the immediate pre-recession years as boom periods (a large positive output gap), even though most indicators suggests they were not. A global synchronised slowdown in productivity growth seems improbable, as some countries are at the technological frontier and others are catching up. As Ball notes, “in the countries hit hardest by the recession, the growth rate of potential output is much lower today than it was before 2008.” However the coincidence story is the one that both the OECD and IMF assume when they calculate output gaps or cyclically adjusted budget deficits. The CBO numbers for the US shown above adopt the coincidence theory to some extent, reducing potential growth from 3.5% in 2002 to 2.0% by the end of 2007.

If we stick to the more plausible idea that this is all somehow the result of the financial crisis and recession, we can again split explanations into two types: those that focus on the financial crisis and argue that crises of this type (rather than other types of recession) impact on potential output, and those that look at the impact of the recession itself. The distinction is important in understanding the impact of austerity. If the length and depth of the recession has permanently hit potential output, as Fatas and Summers suggest, then the cost of austerity is much greater than we could have imagined.

Looking at previous financial crises in individual countries, as Nick Oulton has done for example, does suggest a permanent hit to potential, but I have noted before that this result leans heavily on experience in Latin American countries, and Sweden’s recovery from its 1990 crisis suggests a more optimistic story. Estimates based on OECD countries alone suggest more modest impacts on potential output, of around only 2%.

What about the impact of the recession itself? Here it is helpful to go through the textbook story of how a large negative demand shock should impact the global economy. Lower demand lowers output and employment. Workers cut wages, and firms follow with price cuts. The fall in inflation leads the central bank to cut real interest rates, which restores demand, employment and output to its pre-recession trend.

We know why this time was different: monetary policy hit the zero lower bound (ZLB) and fiscal policy in 2010 went in the wrong direction. Yet employment has recovered to a considerable extent (although less so in the US than the UK). A recovery in employment but not output (relative to pre-recession trends) means by definition a decline in labour productivity growth. How could this happen?

The table below shows the rate of growth of real and nominal wages in the UK and US in pre and post recession periods.

US	2002-7	2008-15
Annual wage growth (1)	3.8%	2.1%
Annual price growth (2)	2.5%	1.5%
Difference	1.3%	0.6%
UK
Annual wage growth	4.5%	1.7%
Annual price growth	2.8%	2.1%
Difference	1.7%	-0.4%

1. Compensation per employee, source OECD Economic Outlook
2. GDP deflator, source OECD Economic Outlook

Nominal wage growth followed the textbook story. But price inflation did not fall to match, implying steadily falling real wages, particularly in the UK. This could just reflect the decline in productivity, which occurred either coincidentally or as a result of the financial crisis and recession.

The financial crisis could have reduced productivity growth if a ‘broken’ financial sector had stopped financing high productivity investment projects, or kept inefficient firms going through ‘pretend and extend’ lending. The recession could have reduced productivity growth by reducing investment, and therefore embodied [2] technical progress. Perhaps this loss of embodied technical progress occurs in all recessions, but we do not notice it because recoveries are quick and complete.

However the causality could be the other way around. Falling real wages led firms to switch production techniques such that they employed more labour per unit of capital. Workers priced themselves into jobs. The big question then becomes why did firms let this happen? Why did firms not take advantage of lower wage increases to reduce their own prices, and choose instead to raise their profit margins?

One story involves a secular increase in firms’ profit margins (Paul Krugman’s robber barons idea), either because of a reduction in goods market competition (profit margins are sometimes called the degree of monopoly), or a rise in rent seeking as Bob Solow suggests (HT DeLong). [3] However it is not obvious why this should be connected to the recession. If it is not, it is like the coincident and exogenous productivity decline. We will not get back to the earlier productivity growth path without reversing whatever caused this secular rise in profit margins.

Another, in some ways more optimistic, story involves different degrees of nominal rigidity: nominal wages are less sticky than nominal prices. As a result nominal wages led prices in reacting to the recession, but now prices are ‘catching up’ and profit margins will fall back. That would fit nicely with inflation continuing below target for some time, and real wages and productivity recovering. It is an optimistic story, because an additional demand stimulus would increase wage but not price inflation, and we would see rapid growth in labour productivity as firms reversed their earlier labour for capital substitution.

Unfortunately recent data suggests this is not happening. Instead core inflation is now above target in the US and rising to target in the UK.    

So is there some other way that a large recession in itself can cause a large reduction in potential output? Macroeconomists group such explanations under a general heading called ‘hysteresis mechanisms’: mechanisms whereby recent history can have permanent effects. Ball summarises the three main types of mechanism that economists have identified: “it appears that recessions sharply reduce capital accumulation, have long-term effects on employment (largely through lower labour force participation), and may slow the growth of total factor productivity.” If technical progress is embodied, we can link the first and last. That will be the subject of a later post.  

[1] For those not familiar with the term, a traditional way of thinking about potential output is that it is what output and incomes could have been if we had avoided booms and recessions, or equivalently if we had avoided domestically induced variations in inflation. Potential output can increase either because the labour force increases, or because labour productivity increases due to either technical progress and investment.

[2] Embodied technical progress is greater labour productivity brought about through new machinery i.e. it needs investment for it to happen.

[3] Postscript (just): Here is Martin Sandbu on the same issue   

Reform and revolution in macroeconomics

Mainly for economists

Paul Romer has a few recent posts (start here, most recent here) where he tries to examine why the saltwater/freshwater divide in macroeconomics happened. A theme is that this cannot all be put down to New Classical economists wanting a revolution, and that a defensive/dismissive attitude from the traditional Keynesian status quo also had a lot to do with it.

I will leave others to discuss what Solow said or intended (see for example Robert Waldmann). However I have no doubt that many among the then Keynesian status quo did react in a defensive and dismissive way. They were, after all, on incredibly weak ground. That ground was not large econometric macromodels, but one single equation: the traditional Phillips curve. This had inflation at time t depending on expectations of inflation at time t, and the deviation of unemployment/output from its natural rate. Add rational expectations to that and you show that deviations from the natural rate are random, and Keynesian economics becomes irrelevant. As a result, too many Keynesian macroeconomists saw rational expectations (and therefore all things New Classical) as an existential threat, and reacted to that threat by attempting to rubbish rational expectations, rather than questioning the traditional Phillips curve. As a result, the status quo lost. [1]

We now know this defeat was temporary, because New Keynesians came along with their version of the Phillips curve and we got a new ‘synthesis’. But that took time, and you can describe what happened in the time in between in two ways. You could say that the New Classicals always had the goal of overthrowing (rather than improving) Keynesian economics, thought that they had succeeded, and simply ignored New Keynesian economics as a result. Or you could say that the initially unyielding reaction of traditional Keynesians created an adversarial way of doing things whose persistence Paul both deplores and is trying to explain. (I have no particular expertise on which story is nearer the truth. I went with the first in this post, but I’m happy to be persuaded by Paul and others that I was wrong.) In either case the idea is that if there had been more reform rather than revolution, things might have gone better for macroeconomics.

The point I want to discuss here is not about Keynesian economics, but about even more fundamental things: how evidence is treated in macroeconomics. You can think of the New Classical counter revolution as having two strands. The first involves Keynesian economics, and is the one everyone likes to talk about. But the second was perhaps even more important, at least to how academic macroeconomics is done. This was the microfoundations revolution, that brought us first RBC models and then DSGE models. As Paul writes:

“Lucas and Sargent were right in 1978 when they said that there was something wrong, fatally wrong, with large macro simulation models. Academic work on these models collapsed.”

The question I want to raise is whether for this strand as well, reform rather than revolution might have been better for macroeconomics.

First two points on the quote above from Paul. Of course not many academics worked directly on large macro simulation models at the time, but what a large number did do was either time series econometric work on individual equations that could be fed into these models, or analyse small aggregate models whose equations were not microfounded, but instead justified by an eclectic mix of theory and empirics. That work within academia did largely come to a halt, and was replaced by microfounded modelling.

Second, Lucas and Sargent’s critique was fatal in the sense of what academics subsequently did (and how they regarded these econometric simulation models), although they got a lot of help from Sims (1980). But it was not fatal in a more general sense. As Brad DeLong points out, these econometric simulation models survived both in the private and public sectors (in the US Fed, for example, or the UK OBR). In the UK they survived within the academic sector until the latter 1990s when academics helped kill them off.

I am not suggesting for one minute that these models are an adequate substitute for DSGE modelling. There is no doubt in my mind that DSGE modelling is a good way of doing macro theory, and I have learnt a lot from doing it myself. It is also obvious that there was a lot wrong with large econometric models in the 1970s. My question is whether it was right for academics to reject them completely, and much more importantly avoid the econometric work that academics once did that fed into them.

It is hard to get academic macroeconomists trained since the 1980s to address this question, because they have been taught that these models and techniques are fatally flawed because of the Lucas critique and identification problems. But DSGE models as a guide for policy are also fatally flawed because they are too simple. The unique property that DSGE models have is internal consistency. Take a DSGE model, and alter a few equations so that they fit the data much better, and you have what could be called a structural econometric model. It is internally inconsistent, but because it fits the data better it may be a better guide for policy.

What happened in the UK in the 1980s and 1990s is that structural econometric models evolved to minimise Lucas critique problems by incorporating rational expectations (and other New Classical ideas as well), and time series econometrics improved to deal with identification issues. If you like, you can say that structural econometric models became more like DSGE models, but where internal consistency was sacrificed when it proved clearly incompatible with the data.

These points are very difficult to get across to those brought up to believe that structural econometric models of the old fashioned kind are obsolete, and fatally flawed in a more fundamental sense. You will often be told that to forecast you can either use a DSGE model or some kind of (virtually) atheoretical VAR, or that policymakers have no alternative when doing policy analysis than to use a DSGE model. Both statements are simply wrong.

There is a deep irony here. At a time when academics doing other kinds of economics have done less theory and become more empirical, macroeconomics has gone in the opposite direction, adopting wholesale a methodology that prioritised the internal theoretical consistency of models above their ability to track the data. An alternative - where DSGE modelling informed and was informed by more traditional ways of doing macroeconomics - was possible, but the New Classical and microfoundations revolution cast that possibility aside.

Did this matter? Were there costs to this strand of the New Classical revolution?

Here is one answer. While it is nonsense to suggest that DSGE models cannot incorporate the financial sector or a financial crisis, academics tend to avoid addressing why some of the multitude of work now going on did not occur before the financial crisis. It is sometimes suggested that before the crisis there was no cause to do so. This is not true. Take consumption for example. Looking at the (non-filtered) time series for UK and US consumption, it is difficult to avoid attaching significant importance to the gradual evolution of credit conditions over the last two or three decades (see the references to work by Carroll and Muellbauer I give in this post). If this kind of work had received greater attention (which structural econometric modellers would almost certainly have done), that would have focused minds on why credit conditions changed, which in turn would have addressed issues involving the interaction between the real and financial sectors. If that had been done, macroeconomics might have been better prepared to examine the impact of the financial crisis.

It is not just Keynesian economics where reform rather than revolution might have been more productive as a consequence of Lucas and Sargent, 1979.

[1] The point is not whether expectations are generally rational or not. It is that any business cycle theory that depends on irrational inflation expectations appears improbable. Do we really believe business cycles would disappear if only inflation expectations were rational? PhDs of the 1970s and 1980s understood that, which is why most of them rejected the traditional Keynesian position. Also, as Paul Krugman points out, many Keynesian economists were happy to incorporate New Classical ideas. 

The F story about the Great Inflation

Here F could stand for folk. The story that is often told by economists to their students goes as follows. After Phillips discovered his curve, which relates inflation to unemployment, Samuelson and Solow in 1960 suggested this implied a trade-off that policymakers could use. They could permanently have a bit less unemployment at the cost of a bit more inflation. Policymakers took up that option, but then could not understand why inflation didn’t just go up a bit, but kept on going up and up. Along came Milton Friedman to the rescue, who in a 1968 presidential address argued that inflation also depended on inflation expectations, which meant the long run Phillips curve was vertical and there was no permanent inflation unemployment trade-off. Policymakers then saw the light, and the steady rise in inflation seen in the 1960s and 1970s came to an end.

This is a neat little story, particularly if you like the idea that all great macroeconomic disasters stem from errors in mainstream macroeconomics. However even a half awake student should spot one small difficulty with this tale. Why did it take over 10 years for Friedman’s wisdom to be adopted by policymakers, while Samuelson and Solow’s alleged mistake seems to have been adopted quickly? Even if you think that the inflation problem only really started in the 1970s that imparts a 10 year lag into the knowledge transmission mechanism, which is a little strange.

However none of that matters, because this folk story is simply untrue. There has been some discussion of this in blogs (by Robert Waldmann in particular - see Mark Thoma here), and the best source on this is another F: James Forder. There are papers (e.g. here), but the most comprehensive source is now his book, which presents an exhaustive study of this folk story. It is, he argues, untrue in every respect. Not only did Samuelson and Solow not argue that there was a permanent inflation unemployment trade-off that policymakers could exploit, policymakers never believed there was such a trade-off. So how did this folk story arise? Quite simply from another F: Friedman himself, in his Nobel Prize lecture in 1977.

Forder discusses much else in his book, including the extent to which Friedman’s 1968 emphasis on the importance of expectations was particularly original (it wasn’t). He also describes how and why he thinks Friedman’s story became so embedded that it became folklore. The reason I write about this now is that I’m in the process of finishing a paper on the knowledge transmission mechanism and the 2010 switch to austerity, and I wanted to look back at previous macroeconomic crises.

If it wasn’t a belief in a long run inflation unemployment trade-off, what was it that allowed inflation to gradually rise during those two decades? Forder has a lot to say on this, but the following is my own take. I think two things were critical: the idea that demand management was primarily designed to achieve full employment, and that full employment had primacy over the objective of price stability. Although more and more economists over that period began to see the policy problem within a Phillips curve framework, many still hoped that other measures like prices and incomes policies (in the UK in particular but also in the US) could override the Phillips curve logic. The primacy of the full employment objective meant the problem was often described as ‘cost-push inflation’ rather than a rise in the natural rate of unemployment.

If you find this hard to imagine, think about historians discussing the current period in a possible future in 2050. By then nonlinearities in the Phillips curve and the power the inflation target had in anchoring inflation expectations were firmly entrenched in mainstream thinking. Imagine that partly as a result in 2050 the inflation target has been replaced by a level of nominal income target. With the benefit of hindsight these historians were amazed to calculate the extent to which resources were lost decades earlier because policy had become fixated by a 2% inflation target and budget deficits. They will recount with amusement at the number of economists and policymakers who thought that the way to deal with deficient demand was by ‘structural reform’. Rather than construct folk tales, they will observe that even when most economists realised what was required to avoid being misled again policymakers were extremely reluctant to change the inflation target.