deserts

Economist Paul Krugman recently decried “zombie economics,” policies advocated by “free-market fundamentalists [who] have been wrong about everything yet now dominate the political scene more thoroughly than ever.” I share his chagrin, but suggest that the problem is that Krugman was wrong to also assert that “economics is not a morality play.” In fact, I believe that defeating the zombie-like resilience of laissez faire capitalism will require directly refuting the moral belief in the inherent fairness of free market outcomes. Consider a recent suggestion by Harvard economist Greg Mankiw, former Chairman of George W. Bush’s Council of Economic Advisors, that tax policy should be based on a ” Just Deserts Theory ” under which “people should get what they deserve.” This principle, a restatement of Equity Theory, proposed by psychologist John Adams in 1963 to explain how people evaluated distributional fairness, has long played a central role in tax debates , and is one that I, like many liberals, heartily endorse. Indeed, I think that widespread support for free markets is based more on belief in their inherent morality than on belief that they promote economic growth, potentially explaining the religious fervor of free-market fundamentalists defending their faith despite the considerable counter-evidence provided by recent events. Mankiw concisely summarizes the theory underlying the ethical argument for market capitalism: “under a standard set of assumptions… the factors of production [i.e., workers] are paid the value of their marginal product… One might easily conclude that, under these idealized conditions, each person receives his just deserts.” Mankiw’s long-standing opposition to higher taxes on the wealthy suggests that he thinks these conditions usually pertain in the real world, too. Consider me skeptical. The list of “standard assumptions” open to question is long, but two are particularly problematic (Northwestern economist Jonathan Weinstein has critiqued several others). First, how can we be sure that marginal productivity is the same as social contribution? A safe cracker in a criminal gang may indeed receive loot equal to his marginal productivity, but this doesn’t mean that he is creating social wealth. Thus, financial industry profits accounted for over 40 percent of all corporate profits in 2004-5 , but does anyone seriously contend that Wall Street created (rather than redistributed) 40 percent of wealth during that period? The second problem is one that Mankiw himself acknowledges when he comments that the dramatic growth in income at the very top of the economic pyramid might be thought of as a lottery, with a few lucky winners reaping the lion’s share of rewards. As economists Robert Frank and Philip Cook point out in their book The Winner Take All Society , technological change and ever-larger markets have caused small differences in ability, effort or luck to translate into large differences in income. Economic theory says that such “tournament rewards” create an incentive for individuals to exert maximal effort, consistent with just deserts as long as you don’t mind that “losers” get much less despite trying nearly (or just) as hard. But theory also says that tournament rewards create an incentive for people to sabotage the efforts of others and to take on as much risk as possible. Given the role that excess risk played in Wall Street’s meltdown, this is hardly a ringing endorsement for the fairness (or efficiency) of free market outcomes. So Mankiw’s “easy” conclusion that markets deliver just deserts depends critically on his own moral intuition about what is just. Given humanity’s well-known ability to convince ourselves that what is in our own self-interest is fair, it is hardly surprising that wealthy conservatives like Mankiw would believe that free market capitalism delivers fair outcomes. But it is noteworthy that in one real-world situation with tournament rewards — lotteries — society typically imposes taxes in excess of 50 percent, since winners pay regular income taxes on earnings already halved by the governmental sponsor’s share of the pot. Moreover, a large body of laboratory research investigating moral intuitions regarding the division of a pool of money has demonstrated the powerful appeal of an equal split , a preference consistent with anthropological evidence that hunter-gatherer groups are remarkably and consistently egalitarian. While a handful of studies have demonstrated that preferences for equality in the laboratory are (slightly) reduced when subjects have to earn the money at stake, this involves experimenters (who provide the money in the first place) making it clear that they consider the earner to have made a commensurate contribution in the laboratory setting. So, sure, people like just deserts when there is compelling evidence that they are indeed just. But the egalitarianism of hunter-gatherers, whose groups undoubtedly included considerable and obvious variation in individual abilities, suggests that the standard of proof for justifying inequality can be quite high. I therefore think it likely that conservative icon Joe the Plumber favors lower taxes not simply because his own personal experience suggests that smarter and harder-working plumbers (granted, he isn’t actually a plumber ) tend to provide better services and to have proportionately higher incomes as a result, but also because authorities like Mankiw assert that a complicated mathematical theory says that this intuition is true throughout the economic system. To be sure, populist Joe might claim to disdain elite theory, but as Keynes once observed, “practical men, who believe themselves to be quite exempt from any intellectual influence, are usually the slaves of some defunct economist.” Thus, Tea Party advocates sustain their belief in the market’s fairness by blaming the government for bailing out Wall Street and interfering with the market’s ethical magic , explaining why their initial targets were Republicans who supported the bailout ( like Mankiw ). Meanwhile, Democrats have completely failed to link higher taxes on the wealthy to populist anger at those who prospered while driving the economy into a ditch. To regain the initiative, I believe, progressives must directly challenge the claim that unfettered markets create just deserts. This won’t be easy. Free market fundamentalists have the advantage of a simple message — ending bailouts will deliver just deserts — and of nearly limitless funds from rich folks who benefited from the bailout but are happy to claim that it should never happen again. Let me therefore suggest one way to start: replace the estate tax with an inheritance tax. Republicans use the term “death” tax to imply that society is confiscating a lifetime of just deserts wealth. But if taxes are to be based on Mankiw’s proposal that those “who contribute more to society deserve a higher income that reflects those greater contributions,” then inheritors who have contributed nothing themselves should pay substantially higher rates (full disclosure: I am myself an inheritor). I believe a debate about inheritance taxes will allow us to distinguish two arguments that appear similar but are critically different. The claim that people should get their just deserts is tricky to implement, but offers a valid moral principle to guide public debate. But the closely related argument that government should “keep its hands off my money” represents pure selfishness by people who refuse to acknowledge that public goods like education and defense are essential for the creation and protection of private wealth. Progressives have to make clear that the attempt to eliminate taxes on inheritors suggests that conservatives believe that all-you-can-eat socialism is fine for the rich as long as there is just-deserts capitalism for everyone else.

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Eric Schoenberg: Zombie Economics and Just Deserts: Why the Right Is Winning the Economic Debate

Over the next two weeks, Cancun will be in the spotlight for something other than spring break madness. As host of the annual climate summit that once saw such promise in Kyoto in 1997, Cancun in 2010 is framed by the spectacular failure of last year’s Copenhagen talks and by the stark realization that nearly 200 nations simply cannot agree on anything of consequence. No matter how unequivocal the scientific evidence is that climate is changing and human activity is a central factor, nearly 7 billion people loosely represented by a few hundred governments are agreed on nothing. We know the reasons why action on climate is frozen: emerging countries such as China, India and Brazil will not accept limits that stifle their rapid emergence; developed countries such as the United States and the European Union can’t or won’t subsidize efforts abroad; and the U.S. federal government can’t even agree on binding limits for America itself. While everyone shares the sentiment that they do not want to destroy the earth or ruin it for their grandchildren, there is no consensus on how to shift global economic activity in a more sustainable direction. That should be cause for despair, and much of the commentary this week will likely conclude that we are on an inexorable and negative path towards deleterious climate change. But that is only because we collectively focus too much on government and its failings rather than on business and its successes. For many in the self-identified community that identifies climate change as humanity’s greatest challenge, big business is seen as an obstacle to a better future. That attitude is a legacy of the 1970s, when the green movement ranked big business as a culprit that couldn’t be redeemed but might be coerced. Today, however, global businesses aren’t being pulled kicking and screaming to innovate and become more sustainable: they are racing ahead of government and may in the end be the one real hope for the future. They aren’t doing so because management has gone green or awoken to some moral environmental imperative. They’ve done so because of the current imperatives of the market: with the price of raw materials skyrocketing in the face of China rapid industrialization and economic growth in the affluent world flat-lining, companies have ample new markets but no real pricing power. In short, they can sell, but any rising input costs they have to absorb. That is a powerful spur to use less stuff, to become more efficient, and to embrace sustainable growth. My recent book Sustainable Excellence (co-authored with Aron Cramer) charts just how companies are doing that. They are too numerous to list, and range from behemoths such as Walmart (yes, Walmart – which has aggressively pushed for more sustainable products), Unilever, Nike, Marks & Spencer, Nestle, and Shell to newer less familiar companies such as Better Place (which is trying to redefine transportation), Masdar (which is building a carbon-neutral city in the deserts of Arabia), Schneider (which is at the forefront of meters and energy efficiency), ICICI Bank (an Indian financial power that is addressing rural poverty), and hundreds of others. They are addressing consumer needs and recasting global supply chains, and doing so in a way that reduces their costs and thus, their carbon footprint. They are doing so largely in spite of government inaction and inconsistency. And they show no signs of reducing their efforts after the financial crisis of the past two years. If anything, that crisis led to redoubled efforts to use less stuff and enhance efficiency. And so while there will be hand wringing and consternation at what Cancun will not achieve, that should be placed against a backdrop of incredible dynamism in corporate land, driven not by idealism but by the urgency of the market. Costs of everything raw are spiking; that includes food, fertilizer, iron ore, copper, rare earths, oil, and even coal in China. And with costs soaring, innovation is as well. It would be lovely if governments were to find concord, and better for the world. But it won’t happen in the coming weeks, and it may not need to. Humanity has always been in tug-of-war between the ability to destroy life and the inexorable capacity to save it and create it. We don’t know which force will win in the future. But we are here now, and that says something about which has come out on top so far. This post originally appeared at www.time.com at http://curiouscapitalist.blogs.time.com

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Zachary Karabell: Cancun and Climate: Government Won’t Act, But Business Will

Zachary Karabell: Cancun and Climate: Government Won’t Act, But Business Will

November 29, 2010

Over the next two weeks, Cancun will be in the spotlight for something other than spring break madness. As host of the annual climate summit that once saw such promise in Kyoto in 1997, Cancun in 2010 is framed by the spectacular failure of last year’s Copenhagen talks and by the stark realization that nearly 200 nations simply cannot agree on anything of consequence. No matter how unequivocal the scientific evidence is that climate is changing and human activity is a central factor, nearly 7 billion people loosely represented by a few hundred governments are agreed on nothing. We know the reasons why action on climate is frozen: emerging countries such as China, India and Brazil will not accept limits that stifle their rapid emergence; developed countries such as the United States and the European Union can’t or won’t subsidize efforts abroad; and the U.S. federal government can’t even agree on binding limits for America itself. While everyone shares the sentiment that they do not want to destroy the earth or ruin it for their grandchildren, there is no consensus on how to shift global economic activity in a more sustainable direction. That should be cause for despair, and much of the commentary this week will likely conclude that we are on an inexorable and negative path towards deleterious climate change. But that is only because we collectively focus too much on government and its failings rather than on business and its successes. For many in the self-identified community that identifies climate change as humanity’s greatest challenge, big business is seen as an obstacle to a better future. That attitude is a legacy of the 1970s, when the green movement ranked big business as a culprit that couldn’t be redeemed but might be coerced. Today, however, global businesses aren’t being pulled kicking and screaming to innovate and become more sustainable: they are racing ahead of government and may in the end be the one real hope for the future. They aren’t doing so because management has gone green or awoken to some moral environmental imperative. They’ve done so because of the current imperatives of the market: with the price of raw materials skyrocketing in the face of China rapid industrialization and economic growth in the affluent world flat-lining, companies have ample new markets but no real pricing power. In short, they can sell, but any rising input costs they have to absorb. That is a powerful spur to use less stuff, to become more efficient, and to embrace sustainable growth. My recent book Sustainable Excellence (co-authored with Aron Cramer) charts just how companies are doing that. They are too numerous to list, and range from behemoths such as Walmart (yes, Walmart – which has aggressively pushed for more sustainable products), Unilever, Nike, Marks & Spencer, Nestle, and Shell to newer less familiar companies such as Better Place (which is trying to redefine transportation), Masdar (which is building a carbon-neutral city in the deserts of Arabia), Schneider (which is at the forefront of meters and energy efficiency), ICICI Bank (an Indian financial power that is addressing rural poverty), and hundreds of others. They are addressing consumer needs and recasting global supply chains, and doing so in a way that reduces their costs and thus, their carbon footprint. They are doing so largely in spite of government inaction and inconsistency. And they show no signs of reducing their efforts after the financial crisis of the past two years. If anything, that crisis led to redoubled efforts to use less stuff and enhance efficiency. And so while there will be hand wringing and consternation at what Cancun will not achieve, that should be placed against a backdrop of incredible dynamism in corporate land, driven not by idealism but by the urgency of the market. Costs of everything raw are spiking; that includes food, fertilizer, iron ore, copper, rare earths, oil, and even coal in China. And with costs soaring, innovation is as well. It would be lovely if governments were to find concord, and better for the world. But it won’t happen in the coming weeks, and it may not need to. Humanity has always been in tug-of-war between the ability to destroy life and the inexorable capacity to save it and create it. We don’t know which force will win in the future. But we are here now, and that says something about which has come out on top so far. This post originally appeared at www.time.com at http://curiouscapitalist.blogs.time.com

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Bankers Concoct Liverpudlian Stew Disguising CDO Scraps as Tasty Morsels

February 9, 2010

By Mark Gilbert Feb. 9 (Bloomberg) — Since its inception, the derivatives market has echoed the fairground hawkers’ call to “scream if you want to go faster.” Among the new derivatives, collateralized-debt obligations (CDOs) were particularly hot. To make a CDO, bankers bundle together a package of other kinds of securities, such as corporate bonds, asset-backed securities (ABSs) or credit-default swaps (CDSs) that are tied to company creditworthiness or mortgage performance. By carving the resulting collections into slices of differing quality, the creators can make the riskiest portions absorb any losses on the underlying assets first, thereby cushioning the higher-rated slices. No Clear Idea As with almost every other investment vehicle, CDOs were designed to reward investors according to the amount of risk they took. Those who bought lower-risk securities typically earned a smaller rate of return from successful investments than did those who took bigger risks, who received either a larger payoff if the investment performed well or nothing at all if the investment failed. Trouble was, no one had a clear idea of just how risky any given slice was or any sense of how to quantify and value that risk. In the same way that Liverpudlians disguise overripe meat and vegetables by cooking them to mush in a stew called scouse, investment banks, rating companies and plain old market peer pressure turned the investments inside most CDOs from inedible chunks of the financial markets into bite-size morsels palatable to pension fund trustees. No pension fund — and only a few other investors — would buy a structured transaction whose worth depends on what happens to the stock market and company creditworthiness, which way commodity prices go and whether the wind blows on a Sunday. They did, however, happily purchase CDOs that offered strong credit ratings and the promise of top-flight returns. Risk Appetite For the game to work, everyone involved had to turn a blind eye to the less-than-stellar track record assembled by the rating companies that assessed CDOs. And they did — until CDOs’ poor performance became impossible to ignore. Of the CDOs that started with AAA ratings in January 2002, 16 percent had lost that top grade by November 2004. Almost 14 percent of second-tier (AA-rated) securities were cut, and nearly 17 percent of CDOs with third-tier (A- rated) grades were cut. Those early CDOs, which typically contained vanilla corporate bonds, were hurt by a swift deterioration in average creditworthiness, combined with some hefty one-off defaults, including those of Enron Corp. and WorldCom Inc. Demand Soars Memories, though, proved short, and demand for CDOs soared as credit-rating cuts on corporate debt became rarer. (The economy was growing, and most companies had enough cash to cover their debts.) In 2004 in Europe alone, Moody’s rated $56 billion in European collateralized debt backed by default swaps. That was a 20 percent gain over the previous year, according to figures provided by the company at the start of 2005. By 2006, the derivatives printing presses were stamping out $503 billion of collateralized debt for the rating companies to grade, up from $274 billion in the previous year and $144 billion in 2004. In April 2007, Moody’s announced a fourth-quarter profit increase of 20 percent, as revenue from rating structured- finance transactions leaped to $251.5 million, a 44 percent gain over the same period in 2006. Almost half of Moody’s total 2007 sales of $583 million came from its structured-notes business, dwarfing the $115 million it made by analyzing company creditworthiness. Fatally Flawed Risk appetites increased, and CDOs became even more exotic and complicated. Structured-product specialists worked to broaden their appeal by tying CDO values to a broader range of underlying markets, some even creating theoretical bets that were tied to abstract prices. To grade these new financial instruments, rating companies used methodology that was fatally flawed from the start. It was based on induction, the process of inferring a general law or principle from the observation of particular instances. But the particular instances the rating companies chose did not incorporate the lessons of previous housing booms, nor the nonexistent histories of some new, theoretical bets. Instead, rating companies used the brief price history of the derivatives market as a benchmark to assess its likely future price performance. Indigestion The most egregious example of derivative market excess came with the invention of the constant-proportion debt obligation, known as a CPDO. In June 2006, Dutch bank ABN Amro Holding NV issued a 38-page marketing brochure describing a security called Surf: “the first CPDO; a breakthrough in credit investments.” CPDOs were the credit derivatives market’s hottest alchemical method for transforming plumbous yield premiums into the gold of market-beating returns. The marketing literature and associated research reports suggested that the newfangled securities were the holy grail of investing — heads, you win; tails, you don’t lose. CPDOs were an abstract bet on the likelihood of defaults in the corporate bond market. With their values tied to credit- default-swap indexes, the securities promised to deliver as much as 2 percentage points more than money market rates during their 10-year life spans. That was worth about 5.6 percent at the three-month money market rates that prevailed when CPDOs began attracting attention in November 2006. Alphabet Soup At the time, German government debt, deemed the safest fixed-income investments in the European markets, yielded just 3.7 percent annually. No wonder CPDOs looked irresistible. Those remarkable rates of return were made possible by the magic of derivatives, which leveraged the initial bet by a multiplier of 15. The leverage turned average punters into high rollers with the potential for fantastic gains — and losses. When times were good and a CPDO looked set to meet its payment obligations, sponsoring investment banks could reduce their market bets. When times got tougher, banks increased those wagers to boost the security’s net asset value. Credit-rating companies issued CPDOs top ratings for both interest and principal payments. The alphabet soup cooked up by the derivatives chefs — boil some CDOs, toss in a dash of ABSs and a soupcon of CDSs, season with CPDOs and serve with a garnish of overly optimistic ratings — was sufficiently toxic to poison the entire financial system. Just Deserts Capitalism itself ended up looking sickly and anemic. Belatedly, investors discovered the truth of one of billionaire investor Warren Buffett’s aphorisms: Unraveling a derivatives trade, the so-called Oracle of Omaha had said, was like trying to carry “a cat home by its tail.” Wall Street had invented a machine that could recycle just about anything that generated a cash flow. It had a growing, reliable source of supply from the housing market, sufficient to keep the merry-go-round spinning. And shifts in both the investment banking culture and the investing landscape created a willing coalition of buyers and sellers. To contact the writer: Mark Gilbert in London at magilbert@bloomberg.net

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