Category Archives: Neoliberalism

Inequality gap widens as 42 people hold same wealth as 3.7bn poorest – Larry Elliott.

Oxfam calls for action on gap as wealthiest people gather at World Economic Forum in Davos.

The development charity Oxfam has called for action to tackle the growing gap between rich and poor as it launched a new report showing that 42 people hold as much wealth as the 3.7 billion who make up the poorest half of the world’s population.
In a report published on Monday to coincide with the gathering of some of the world’s richest people at the World Economic Forum in Davos, Oxfam said billionaires had been created at a record rate of one every two days over the past 12 months, at a time when the bottom 50% of the world’s population had seen no increase in wealth. It added that 82% of the global wealth generated in 2017 went to the most wealthy 1%.

The charity said it was “unacceptable and unsustainable” for a tiny minority to accumulate so much wealth while hundreds of millions of people struggled on poverty pay. It called on world leaders to turn rhetoric about inequality into policies to tackle tax evasion and boost the pay of workers.

Mark Goldring, Oxfam GB chief executive, said: “The concentration of extreme wealth at the top is not a sign of a thriving economy, but a symptom of a system that is failing the millions of hardworking people on poverty wages who make our clothes and grow our food.”

Booming global stock markets have been the main reason for the increase in wealth of those holding financial assets during 2017. The founder of Amazon, Jeff Bezos, saw his wealth rise by $6bn (£4.3bn) in the first 10 days of 2017 as a result of a bull market on Wall Street, making him the world’s richest man.

Oxfam said it had made changes to its wealth calculations as a result of new data from the bank Credit Suisse. Under the revised figures, 42 people hold as much wealth as the 3.7 billion people who make up the poorer half of the world’s population, compared with 61 people last year and 380 in 2009. At the time of last year’s report, Oxfam said that eight billionaires held the same wealth as half the world’s population.

The charity added that the wealth of billionaires had risen by 13% a year on average in the decade from 2006 to 2015, with the increase of $762bn (£550bn) in 2017 enough to end extreme poverty seven times over. It said nine out of 10 of the world’s 2,043 dollar billionaires were men.

Goldring said: “For work to be a genuine route out of poverty we need to ensure that ordinary workers receive a living wage and can insist on decent conditions, and that women are not discriminated against. If that means less for the already wealthy then that is a price that we – and they – should be willing to pay.”

An Oxfam survey of 70,000 people in 10 countries, including the UK, showed support for action to tackle inequality. Nearly two-thirds of people – 72% in the UK – said they want their government to urgently address the income gap between rich and poor in their country.

In the UK, when asked what a typical British chief executive earned in comparison with an unskilled worker, people guessed 33 times as much. When asked what the ideal ratio should be, they said 7:1. Oxfam said that FTSE 100 bosses earned on average 120 times more than the average employee.

Goldring said it was time to rethink a global economy in which there was excessive corporate influence on policymaking, erosion of workers’ rights and a relentless drive to minimise costs in order to maximise returns to investors.

Mark Littlewood, director general at the Institute of Economic Affairs, said: “Oxfam is promoting a race to the bottom. Richer people are already highly taxed people – reducing their wealth beyond a certain point won’t lead to redistribution, it will destroy it to the benefit of no one. Higher minimum wages would also likely lead to disappearing jobs, harming the very people Oxfam intend to help.”

The Guardian

Reclaiming the State. A Progressive Vision of Sovereignty for a Post-Neoliberal World –  William Mitchell and Thomas Fazi. 

Introduction: 

Make the Left Great Again 

The West is currently in the midst of an anti-establishment revolt of historic proportions. The Brexit vote in the United Kingdom, the election of Donald Trump in the United States, the rejection of Matteo Renzi’s neoliberal constitutional reform in Italy, the EU’s unprecedented crisis of legitimation: although these interrelated phenomena differ in ideology and goals, they are all rejections of the (neo) liberal order that has dominated the world –and in particular the West –for the past 30 years. 

Even though the system has thus far proven capable (for the most part) of absorbing and neutralising these electoral uprisings, there is no indication that this anti-establishment revolt is going to abate any time soon. Support for anti-establishment parties in the developed world is at the highest level since the 1930s –and growing. At the same time, support for mainstream parties –including traditional social-democratic parties –has collapsed. 

The reasons for this backlash are rather obvious. The financial crisis of 2007–9 laid bare the scorched earth left behind by neoliberalism, which the elites had gone to great lengths to conceal, in both material (financialisation) and ideological (‘the end of history’) terms. 

As credit dried up, it became apparent that for years the economy had continued to grow primarily because banks were distributing the purchasing power –through debt –that businesses were not providing in salaries. To paraphrase Warren Buffett, the receding tide of the debt-fuelled boom revealed that most people were, in fact, swimming naked

The situation was (is) further exacerbated by the post-crisis policies of fiscal austerity and wage deflation pursued by a number of Western governments, particularly in Europe, which saw the financial crisis as an opportunity to impose an even more radical neoliberal regime and to push through policies designed to suit the financial sector and the wealthy, at the expense of everyone else. 

Thus, the unfinished agenda of privatisation, deregulation and welfare state retrenchment –temporarily interrupted by the financial crisis –was reinstated with even greater vigour. Amid growing popular dissatisfaction, social unrest and mass unemployment (in a number of European countries), political elites on both sides of the Atlantic responded with business-as-usual policies and discourses. 

As a result, the social contract binding citizens to traditional ruling parties is more strained today than at any other time since World War II –and in some countries has arguably already been broken. 

Of course, even if we limit the scope of our analysis to the post-war period, anti-systemic movements and parties are not new in the West. Up until the 1980s, anti-capitalism remained a major force to be reckoned with. The novelty is that today –unlike 20, 30 or 40 years ago –it is movements and parties of the right and extreme right (along with new parties of the neoliberal ‘extreme centre’, such as the new French president Emmanuel Macron’s party En Marche!) that are leading the revolt, far outweighing the movements and parties of the left in terms of voting strength and opinion-shaping. 

With few exceptions, left parties –that is, parties to the left of traditional social-democratic parties –are relegated to the margins of the political spectrum in most countries. 

Meanwhile, in Europe, traditional social-democratic parties are being ‘pasokified’–that is, reduced to parliamentary insignificance, like many of their centre-right counterparts, due to their embrace of neoliberalism and failure to offer a meaningful alternative to the status quo –in one country after another. 

The term refers to the Greek social-democratic party PASOK, which was virtually wiped out of existence in 2014, due to its inane handling of the Greek debt crisis, after dominating the Greek political scene for more than three decades. A similar fate has befallen other former behemoths of the social-democratic establishment, such as the French Socialist Party and the Dutch Labour Party (PvdA). Support for social-democratic parties is today at the lowest level in 70 years –and falling. 

How should we explain the decline of the left –not just the electoral decline of those parties that are commonly associated with the left side of the political spectrum, regardless of their effective political orientation, but also the decline of core left values within those parties and within society in general? 

Why has the anti-establishment left proven unable to fill the vacuum left by the collapse of the establishment left? More broadly, how did the left come to count so little in global politics? Can the left, both culturally and politically, become a major force in our societies again? And if so, how? 

These are some of the questions that we attempt to answer in this book. Though the left has been making inroads in some countries in recent years –notable examples include Bernie Sanders in the United States, Jeremy Corbyn in the UK, Podemos in Spain and Jean-Luc Mélenchon in France –and has even succeeded in taking power in Greece (though the SYRIZA government was rapidly brought to heel by the European establishment), there is no denying that, for the most part, movements and parties of the extreme right have been more effective than left-wing or progressive forces at tapping into the legitimate grievances of the masses –disenfranchised, marginalised, impoverished and dispossessed by the 40-year-long neoliberal class war waged from above. 

In particular, they are the only forces that have been able to provide a (more or less) coherent response to the widespread –and growing –yearning for greater territorial or national sovereignty, increasingly seen as the only way, in the absence of effective supranational mechanisms of representation, to regain some degree of collective control over politics and society, and in particular over the flows of capital, trade and people that constitute the essence of neoliberal globalisation. Given neoliberalism’s war against sovereignty, it should come as no surprise that ‘sovereignty has become the master-frame of contemporary politics’, as Paolo Gerbaudo notes. 

After all, as we argue in Chapter 5, the hollowing out of national sovereignty and curtailment of popular-democratic mechanisms –what has been termed depoliticisation –has been an essential element of the neoliberal project, aimed at insulating macroeconomic policies from popular contestation and removing any obstacles put in the way of economic exchanges and financial flows. 

Given the nefarious effects of depoliticisation, it is only natural that the revolt against neoliberalism should first and foremost take the form of demands for a repoliticisation of national decision-making processes. 

The fact that the vision of national sovereignty that was at the centre of the Trump and Brexit campaigns, and that currently dominates the public discourse, is a reactionary, quasi-fascist one –mostly defined along ethnic, exclusivist and authoritarian lines –should not be seen as an indictment of national sovereignty as such. History attests to the fact that national sovereignty and national self-determination are not intrinsically reactionary or jingoistic concepts –in fact, they were the rallying cries of countless nineteenth- and twentieth-century socialist and left-wing liberation movements.

Even if we limit our analysis to core capitalist countries, it is patently obvious that virtually all the major social, economic and political advancements of the past centuries were achieved through the institutions of the democratic nation state, not through international, multilateral or supranational institutions, which in a number of ways have, in fact, been used to roll back those very achievements, as we have seen in the context of the euro crisis, where supranational (and largely unaccountable) institutions such as the European Commission, Eurogroup and European Central Bank (ECB) used their power and authority to impose crippling austerity on struggling countries. 

The problem, in short, is not national sovereignty as such, but the fact that the concept in recent years has been largely monopolised by the right and extreme right, which understandably sees it as a way to push through its xenophobic and identitarian agenda. It would therefore be a grave mistake to explain away the seduction of the ‘Trumpenproletariat’ by the far right as a case of false consciousness, as Marc Saxer notes; the working classes are simply turning to the only movements and parties that (so far) promise them some protection from the brutal currents of neoliberal globalisation (whether they can or truly intend to deliver on that promise is a different matter). 

However, this simply raises an even bigger question: why has the left not been able to offer the working classes and increasingly proletarianised middle classes a credible alternative to neoliberalism and to neoliberal globalisation? More to the point, why has it not been able to develop a progressive view of national sovereignty? 

As we argue in this book, the reasons are numerous and overlapping. For starters, it is important to understand that the current existential crisis of the left has very deep historical roots, reaching as far back as the 1960s. If we want to comprehend how the left has gone astray, that is where we have to begin our analysis. 

Today the post-war ‘Keynesian’ era is eulogised by many on the left as a golden age in which organised labour and enlightened thinkers and policymakers (such as Keynes himself) were able to impose a ‘class compromise’ on reluctant capitalists that delivered unprecedented levels of social progress, which were subsequently rolled back following the so-called neoliberal counter-revolution. 

It is thus argued that, in order to overcome neoliberalism, all it takes is for enough members of the establishment to be swayed by an alternative set of ideas. However, as we note in Chapter 2, the rise and fall of Keynesianism cannot simply be explained in terms of working-class strength or the victory of one ideology over another, but should instead be viewed as the outcome of the fortuitous confluence, in the aftermath of World War II, of a number of social, ideological, political, economic, technical and institutional conditions. 

To fail to do so is to commit the same mistake that many leftists committed in the early post-war years. By failing to appreciate the extent to which the class compromise at the base of the Fordist-Keynesian system was, in fact, a crucial component of that history-specific regime of accumulation –actively supported by the capitalist class insofar as it was conducive to profit-making, and bound to be jettisoned once it ceased to be so –many socialists of the time convinced themselves ‘that they had done much more than they actually had to shift the balance of class power, and the relationship between states and markets’. 

Some even argued that the developed world had already entered a post-capitalist phase, in which all the characteristic features of capitalism had been permanently eliminated, thanks to a fundamental shift of power in favour of labour vis-à-vis capital, and of the state vis-à-vis the market. Needless to say, that was not the case. 

Furthermore, as we show in Chapter 3, monetarism –the ideological precursor to neoliberalism –had already started to percolate into left-wing policymaking circles as early as the late 1960s. Thus, as argued in Chapters 2 and 3, many on the left found themselves lacking the necessary theoretical tools to understand –and correctly respond to –the capitalist crisis that engulfed the Keynesian model in the 1970s, convincing themselves that the distributional struggle that arose at the time could be resolved within the narrow limits of the social-democratic framework. 

The truth of the matter was that the labour–capital conflict that re-emerged in the 1970s could only have been resolved one way or another: on capital’s terms, through a reduction of labour’s bargaining power, or on labour’s terms, through an extension of the state’s control over investment and production. As we show in Chapters 3 and 4, with regard to the experience of the social-democratic governments of Britain and France in the 1970s and 1980s, the left proved unwilling to go this way. This left it (no pun intended) with no other choice but to ‘manage the capitalist crisis on behalf of capital’, as Stuart Hall wrote, by ideologically and politically legitimising neoliberalism as the only solution to the survival of capitalism. 

In this regard, as we show in Chapter 3, the Labour government of James Callaghan (1974–9) bears a very heavy responsibility. In an (in) famous speech in 1976, Callaghan justified the government’s programme of spending cuts and wage restraint by declaring Keynesianism dead, indirectly legitimising the emerging monetarist (neoliberal) dogma and effectively setting up the conditions for Labour’s ‘austerity lite’ to be refined into an all-out attack on the working class by Margaret Thatcher. 

Even worse, perhaps, Callaghan popularised the notion that austerity was the only solution to the economic crisis of the 1970s, anticipating Thatcher’s ‘there is no alternative’(TINA) mantra, even though there were radical alternatives available at the time, such as those put forward by Tony Benn and others. These, however, were ‘no longer perceived to exist’. 

In this sense, the dismantling of the post-war Keynesian framework cannot simply be explained as the victory of one ideology (‘neoliberalism’) over another (‘Keynesianism’), but should rather be understood as the result of a number of overlapping ideological, economic and political factors: the capitalists’response to the profit squeeze and to the political implications of full employment policies; the structural flaws of ‘actually existing Keynesianism’; and, importantly, the left’s inability to offer a coherent response to the crisis of the Keynesian framework, let alone a radical alternative. 

These are all analysed in-depth in the first chapters of the book. Furthermore, throughout the 1970s and 1980s, a new (fallacious) left consensus started to set in: that economic and financial internationalisation –what today we call ‘globalisation’–had rendered the state increasingly powerless vis-à-vis ‘the forces of the market’, and that therefore countries had little choice but to abandon national economic strategies and all the traditional instruments of intervention in the economy (such as tariffs and other trade barriers, capital controls, currency and exchange rate manipulation, and fiscal and central bank policies), and hope, at best, for transnational or supranational forms of economic governance. 

In other words, government intervention in the economy came to be seen not only as ineffective but, increasingly, as outright impossible. This process –which was generally (and erroneously, as we shall see) framed as a shift from the state to the market –was accompanied by a ferocious attack on the very idea of national sovereignty, increasingly vilified as a relic of the past. As we show, the left –in particular the European left –played a crucial role in this regard as well, by cementing this ideological shift towards a post-national and post-sovereign view of the world, often anticipating the right on these issues. 

One of the most consequential turning points in this respect, which is analysed in Chapter 4, was Mitterrand’s 1983 turn to austerity –the so-called tournant de la rigueur –just two years after the French Socialists’ historic victory in 1981. Mitterrand’s election had inspired the widespread belief that a radical break with capitalism –at least with the extreme form of capitalism that had recently taken hold in the Anglo-Saxon world –was still possible. By 1983, however, the French Socialists had succeeded in ‘proving’ the exact opposite: that neoliberal globalisation was an inescapable and inevitable reality. As Mitterrand stated at the time: ‘National sovereignty no longer means very much, or has much scope in the modern world economy. …A high degree of supra-nationality is essential.’ 

The repercussions of Mitterrand’s about-turn are still being felt today. It is often brandished by left-wing and progressive intellectuals as proof of the fact that globalisation and the internationalisation of finance has ended the era of nation states and their capacity to pursue policies that are not in accord with the diktats of global capital. The claim is that if a government tries autonomously to pursue full employment and a progressive/redistributive agenda, it will inevitably be punished by the amorphous forces of global capital. 

This narrative claims that Mitterrand had no option but to abandon his agenda of radical reform. To most modern-day leftists, Mitterrand thus represents a pragmatist who was cognisant of the international capitalist forces he was up against and responsible enough to do what was best for France. In fact, as we argue in the second part of the book, sovereign, currency-issuing states –such as France in the 1980s –far from being helpless against the power of global capital, still have the capacity to deliver full employment and social justice to their citizens. 

So how did the idea of the ‘death of the state’come to be so ingrained in our collective consciousness? 

As we explain in Chapter 5, underlying this post-national view of the world was (is) a failure to understand –and in some cases an explicit attempt to conceal –on behalf of left-wing intellectuals and policymakers that ‘globalisation’ was (is) not the result of inexorable economic and technological changes but was (is) largely the product of state-driven processes. All the elements that we associate with neoliberal globalisation –delocalisation, deindustrialisation, the free movement of goods and capital, etc. –were (are), in most cases, the result of choices made by governments. 

More generally, states continue to play a crucial role in promoting, enforcing and sustaining a (neo) liberal international framework –though that would appear to be changing, as we discuss in Chapter 6 –as well as establishing the domestic conditions for allowing global accumulation to flourish. The same can be said of neoliberalism tout court. 

There is a widespread belief –particularly among the left –that neoliberalism has involved (and involves) a ‘retreat’, ‘hollowing out’ or ‘withering away’ of the state, which in turn has fuelled the notion that today the state has been ‘overpowered’ by the market. However, as we argue in Chapter 5, neoliberalism has not entailed a retreat of the state but rather a reconfiguration of the state, aimed at placing the commanding heights of economic policy ‘in the hands of capital, and primarily financial interests’. 

It is self-evident, after all, that the process of neoliberalisation would not have been possible if governments –and in particular social-democratic governments –had not resorted to a wide array of tools to promote it: the liberalisation of goods and capital markets; the privatisation of resources and social services; the deregulation of business, and financial markets in particular; the reduction of workers’ rights (first and foremost, the right to collective bargaining) and more generally the repression of labour activism; the lowering of taxes on wealth and capital, at the expense of the middle and working classes; the slashing of social programmes; and so on. 

These policies were systemically pursued throughout the West (and imposed on developing countries) with unprecedented determination, and with the support of all the major international institutions and political parties. 

As noted in Chapter 5, even the loss of national sovereignty –which has been invoked in the past, and continues to be invoked today, to justify neoliberal policies –is largely the result of a willing and conscious limitation of state sovereign rights by national elites. 

The reason why governments chose willingly to ‘tie their hands’ is all too clear: as the European case epitomises, the creation of self-imposed ‘external constraints’ allowed national politicians to reduce the politics costs of the neoliberal transition –which clearly involved unpopular policies –by ‘scapegoating’ institutionalised rules and ‘independent’ or international institutions, which in turn were presented as an inevitable outcome of the new, harsh realities of globalisation. 

Moreover, neoliberalism has been (and is) associated with various forms of authoritarian statism –that is, the opposite of the minimal state advocated by neoliberals –as states have bolstered their security and policing arms as part of a generalised militarisation of civil protest. In other words, not only does neoliberal economic policy require the presence of a strong state, but it requires the presence of an authoritarian state (particularly where extreme forms of neoliberalism are concerned, such as the ones experimented with in periphery countries), at both the domestic and international level (see Chapter 5). 

In this sense, neoliberal ideology, at least in its official anti-state guise, should be considered little more than a convenient alibi for what has been and is essentially a political and state-driven project. Capital remains as dependent on the state today as it was under ‘Keynesianism’–to police the working classes, bail out large firms that would otherwise go bankrupt, open up markets abroad (including through military intervention), etc. 

The ultimate irony, or indecency, is that traditional left establishment parties have become standard-bearers for neoliberalism themselves, both while in elected office and in opposition. 

In the months and years that followed the financial crash of 2007–9, capital’s –and capitalism’s –continued dependency on the state in the age of neoliberalism became glaringly obvious, as the governments of the US, Europe and elsewhere bailed out their respective financial institutions to the tune of trillions of euros/dollars. 

In Europe, following the outbreak of the so-called ‘euro crisis’ in 2010, this was accompanied by a multi-level assault on the post-war European social and economic model aimed at restructuring and re-engineering European societies and economies along lines more favourable to capital. This radical reconfiguration of European societies –which, again, has seen social-democratic governments at the forefront –is not based on a retreat of the state in favour of the market, but rather on a reintensification of state intervention on the side of capital. 

Nonetheless, the erroneous idea of the waning nation state has become an entrenched fixture of the left. As we argue throughout the book, we consider this to be central in understanding the decline of the traditional political left and its acquiescence to neoliberalism. 

In view of the above, it is hardly surprising that the mainstream left is, today, utterly incapable of offering a positive vision of national sovereignty in response to neoliberal globalisation. To make matters worse, most leftists have bought into the macroeconomic myths that the establishment uses to discourage any alternative use of state fiscal capacities. 

For example, they have accepted without question the so-called household budget analogy, which suggests that currency-issuing governments, like households, are financially constrained, and that fiscal deficits impose crippling debt burdens on future generations –a notion that we thoroughly debunk in Chapter 8. 

This has gone hand in hand with another, equally tragic, development. As discussed in Chapter 5, following its historical defeat, the left’s traditional anti-capitalist focus on class slowly gave way to a liberal-individualist understanding of emancipation. Waylaid by post-modernist and post-structuralist theories, left intellectuals slowly abandoned Marxian class categories to focus, instead, on elements of political power and the use of language and narratives as a way of establishing meaning. This also defined new arenas of political struggle that were diametrically opposed to those defined by Marx. 

Over the past three decades, the left focus on ‘capitalism’ has given way to a focus on issues such as racism, gender, homophobia, multiculturalism, etc. Marginality is no longer described in terms of class but rather in terms of identity. The struggle against the illegitimate hegemony of the capitalist class has given way to the struggles of a variety of (more or less) oppressed and marginalised groups: women, ethnic and racial minorities, the LGBTQ community, etc. As a result, class struggle has ceased to be seen as the path to liberation. 

In this new post-modernist world, only categories that transcend Marxian class boundaries are considered meaningful. Moreover, the institutions that evolved to defend workers against capital –such as trade unions and social-democratic political parties –have become subjugated to these non-class struggle foci. What has emerged in practically all Western countries as a result, as Nancy Fraser notes, is a perverse political alignment between ‘mainstream currents of new social movements (feminism, anti-racism, multiculturalism, and LGBTQ rights), on the one side, and high-end “symbolic” and service-based business sectors (Wall Street, Silicon Valley, and Hollywood), on the other’. 

The result is a progressive neoliberalism ‘that mix[es] together truncated ideals of emancipation and lethal forms of financialization’, with the former unwittingly lending their charisma to the latter. 

As societies have become increasingly divided between well-educated, highly mobile, highly skilled, socially progressive cosmopolitan urbanites, and lower-skilled and less educated peripherals who rarely work abroad and face competition from immigrants, the mainstream left has tended to consistently side with the former. Indeed, the split between the working classes and the intellectual-cultural left can be considered one of the main reasons behind the right-wing revolt currently engulfing the West. 

As argued by Jonathan Haidt, the way the globalist urban elites talk and act unwittingly activates authoritarian tendencies in a subset of nationalists. In a vicious feedback loop, however, the more the working classes turn to right-wing populism and nationalism, the more the intellectual-cultural left doubles down on its liberal-cosmopolitan fantasies, further radicalising the ethno-nationalism of the proletariat. 

As Wolfgang Streeck writes: Protests against material and moral degradation are suspected of being essentially fascist, especially now that the former advocates of the plebeian classes have switched to the globalization party, so that if their former clients wish to complain about the pressures of capitalist modernization, the only language at their disposal is the pre-political, untreated linguistic raw material of everyday experiences of deprivation, economic or cultural. This results in constant breaches of the rules of civilized public speech, which in turn can trigger indignation at the top and mobilization at the bottom. 

This is particularly evident in the European debate, where, despite the disastrous effects of the EU and monetary union, the mainstream left –often appealing to exactly the same arguments used by Callaghan and Mitterrand 30–40 years ago –continues to cling on to these institutions and to the belief that they can be reformed in a progressive direction, despite all evidence to the contrary, and to dismiss any talk of restoring a progressive agenda on the foundation of retrieved national sovereignty as a ‘retreat into nationalist positions’, inevitably bound to plunge the continent into 1930s-style fascism. 

This position, as irrational as it may be, is not surprising, considering that European Economic and Monetary Union (EMU) is, after all, a brainchild of the European left (see Chapter 5). However, such a position presents numerous problems, which are ultimately rooted in a failure to understand the true nature of the EU and monetary union. 

First of all, it ignores the fact that the EU’s economic and political constitution is structured to produce the results that we are seeing –the erosion of popular sovereignty, the massive transfer of wealth from the middle and lower classes to the upper classes, the weakening of labour and more generally the rollback of the democratic and social/economic gains that had previously been achieved by subordinate classes –and is designed precisely to impede the kind of radical reforms to which progressive integrationists or federalists aspire to. 

More importantly, however, it effectively reduces the left to the role of defender of the status quo, thus allowing the political right to hegemonise the legitimate anti-systemic –and specifically anti-EU –grievances of citizens. This is tantamount to relinquishing the discursive and political battleground for a post-neoliberal hegemony –which is inextricably linked to the question of national sovereignty –to the right and extreme right. It is not hard to see that if progressive change can only be implemented at the global or even European level –in other words, if the alternative to the status quo offered to electorates is one between reactionary nationalism and progressive globalism –then the left has already lost the battle. 

It needn’t be this way, however. As we argue in the second part of the book, a progressive, emancipatory vision of national sovereignty that offers a radical alternative to both the right and the neoliberals –one based on popular sovereignty, democratic control over the economy, full employment, social justice, redistribution from the rich to the poor, inclusivity and the socio-ecological transformation of production and society –is possible. Indeed, it is necessary. 

As J. W. Mason writes: Whatever [supranational] arrangements we can imagine in principle, the systems of social security, labor regulation, environmental protection, and redistribution of income and wealth that in fact exist are national in scope and are operated by national governments. By definition, any struggle to preserve social democracy as it exists today is a struggle to defend national institutions.  

As we contend in this book, the struggle to defend the democratic sovereign from the onslaught of neoliberal globalisation is the only basis on which the left can be refounded (and the nationalist right challenged). However, this is not enough. 

The left also needs to abandon its obsession with identity politics and retrieve the ‘more expansive, anti-hierarchical, egalitarian, class-sensitive, anti-capitalist understandings of emancipation’ that used to be its trademark (which, of course, is not in contradiction with the struggle against racism, patriarchy, xenophobia and other forms of oppression and discrimination). 

Fully embracing a progressive vision of sovereignty also means abandoning the many false macroeconomic myths that plague left-wing and progressive thinkers. One of the most pervasive and persistent myths is the assumption that governments are revenue-constrained, that is, that they need to ‘fund’ their expenses through taxes or debt. This leads to the corollary that governments have to ‘live within their means’, since ongoing deficits will inevitably result in an ‘excessive’ accumulation of debt, which in turn is assumed to be ‘unsustainable’ in the long run. 

In reality, as we show in Chapter 8, monetarily sovereign (or currency-issuing) governments –which nowadays include most governments –are never revenue-constrained because they issue their own currency by legislative fiat and always have the means to achieve and sustain full employment and social justice. 

In this sense, a progressive vision of national sovereignty should aim to reconstruct and redefine the national state as a place where citizens can seek refuge ‘in democratic protection, popular rule, local autonomy, collective goods and egalitarian traditions’, as Streeck argues, rather than a culturally and ethnically homogenised society. 

This is also the necessary prerequisite for the construction of a new international( ist) world order, based on interdependent but independent sovereign states. It is such a vision that we present in this book. 

*

PART I 

The Great Transformation Redux: From Keynesianism to Neoliberalism –and Beyond 

1 Broken Paradise: A Critical Assessment of the Keynesian ‘Full Employment’ Era 

THE IDEALIST VIEW: KEYNESIANISM AS THE VICTORY OF ONE IDEOLOGY OVER ANOTHER 

Looking back on the 30-year-long economic expansion that followed World War II, Adam Przeworski and Michael Wallerstein concluded that ‘by most criteria of economic progress the Keynesian era was a success’. 

It is hard to disagree: throughout the West, from the mid-1940s until the early 1970s, countries enjoyed lower levels of unemployment, greater economic stability and higher levels of economic growth than ever before. That stability, particularly in the US, also rested on a strong financial regulatory framework: on the widespread provision of deposit insurance to stop bank runs; strict regulation of the financial system, including the separation of commercial banking from investment banking; and extensive capital controls to reduce currency volatility. 

These domestic and international restrictions ‘kept financial excesses and bubbles under control for over a quarter of a century’. 

Wages and living standards rose, and –especially in Europe –a variety of policies and institutions for welfare and social protection (also known as the ‘welfare state’) were created, including sustained investment in universally available social services such as education and health. Few people would deny that this was, indeed, a ‘golden age’ for capitalism. 

However, when it comes to explaining what made this exceptional period possible and why it came to an end, theories abound. Most contemporary Keynesians subscribe to a quasi-idealist view of history –that is, one that stresses the central role of ideas and ideals in human history. This is perhaps unsurprising, considering that Keynes himself famously noted: ‘Practical men who believe themselves to be quite exempt from any intellectual influence, are usually the slaves of some defunct economist. Madmen in authority, who hear voices in the air, are distilling their frenzy from some academic scribbler of a few years back.’ 

According to this view, the social and economic achievements of the post-war period are largely attributable to the revolution in economic thinking spearheaded by the British economist John Maynard Keynes. 

Throughout the 1920s and 1930s, Keynes overturned the old classical (neoclassical) paradigm, rooted in the doctrine of laissez-faire (‘let it be’) free-market capitalism, which held that markets are fundamentally self-regulating. The understanding was that the economy, if left to its own devices –that is, with the government intervening as little as possible –would automatically generate stability and full employment, as long as workers were flexible in their wage demands. 

The Great Depression of the 1930s that followed the stock market crash of 1929 –where minimal financial regulation, little-understood financial products and overindebted households and banks all conspired to create a huge speculative bubble which, when it burst, brought the US financial system crashing down, and with it the entire global economy –clearly challenged traditional laissez-faire economic theories. 

This bolstered Keynes’ argument –spelled out at length in his masterpiece, The General Theory of Employment, Interest, and Money, published in 1936 –that aggregate spending determined the overall level of economic activity, and that inadequate aggregate spending could lead to prolonged periods of high unemployment (what he called ‘underemployment equilibrium’). Thus, he advocated the use of debt-based expansionary fiscal and monetary measures and a strict regulatory framework to counter capitalism’s tendency towards financial crises and disequilibrium, and to mitigate the adverse effects of economic recessions and depressions, first and foremost by creating jobs that the private sector was unable or unwilling to provide. 

The bottom line of Keynes’ argument was that the government always has the ability to determine the overall level of spending and employment in the economy. In other words, full employment was a realistic goal that could be pursued at all times. 

Yet politicians were slow to catch on. When the speculative bubbles in both Europe and the United States burst in the aftermath of the Wall Street crash of 1929, various countries (to varying degrees, and more or less willingly) turned to austerity as a perceived ‘cure’ for the excesses of the previous decade. 

In the United States, president Herbert Hoover, a year after the crash, declared that ‘economic depression cannot be cured by legislative action or executive pronouncements’ and that ‘economic wounds must be healed by the action of the cells of the economic body –the producers and consumers themselves’. 

At first Hoover and his officials downplayed the stock market crash, claiming that the economic slump would be only temporary. When the situation did not improve, Hoover advocated a strict laissez-faire policy, dictating that the federal government should not interfere with the economy but rather let the economy right itself. He counselled that ‘every individual should sustain faith and courage’ and ‘each should maintain self-reliance’. 

Even though Hoover supported a doubling of government expenditure on public works projects, he also firmly believed in the need for a balanced budget. As Nouriel Roubini and Stephen Mihm observe, Hoover ‘wanted to reconcile contradictory aims: to cultivate self-reliance, to provide government help in a time of crisis, and to maintain fiscal discipline. This was impossible.’ In fact, it is widely agreed that Hoover’s inaction was responsible for the worsening of the Great Depression. 

If the United States’ reaction under Hoover can be described as ‘too little, too late’, Europe’s reaction in the late 1920s and early 1930s actively contributed to the downward spiral of the Great Depression, setting the stage for World War II. 

Austerity was the dominant response of European governments during the early years of the Great Depression. The political consequences are well known. Anti-systemic parties gained strength all across the continent, most notably in Germany. While 24 European regimes had been democratic in 1920, the number was down to eleven in 1939. 

Various historians and economists see the rise of Hitler as a direct consequence of the austerity policies indirectly imposed on Germany by its creditors following the economic crash of the late 1920s. Ewald Nowotny, the current head of Austria’s national bank, stated that it was precisely ‘the single-minded concentration on austerity policy’ in the 1930s that ‘led to mass unemployment, a breakdown of democratic systems and, at the end, to the catastrophe of Nazism’. 

Historian Steven Bryan agrees: ‘During the 1920s and 1930s it was precisely the refusal to acknowledge the social and political consequences of austerity that helped bring about not only the depression, but also the authoritarian governments of the 1930s.

*

from

Reclaiming the State. A Progressive Vision of Sovereignty for a Post-Neoliberal World

by

William Mitchell and Thomas Fazi.

get it at Amazon.com

Rescuing Economics from Neoliberalism – Dani Rodrik. 

As even its harshest critics concede, neoliberalism is hard to pin down. In broad terms, it denotes a preference for markets over government, economic incentives over social or cultural norms, and private entrepreneurship over collective or community action. It has been used to describe a wide range of phenomena—from Augusto Pinochet to Margaret Thatcher and Ronald Reagan, from the Clinton Democrats and Britain’s New Labour to the economic opening in China and the reform of the welfare state in Sweden. 

The term is used as a catchall for anything that smacks of deregulation, liberalization, privatization, or fiscal austerity. Today it is reviled routinely as a short-hand for the ideas and the practices that have produced growing economic insecurity and inequality, led to the loss of our political values and ideals, and even precipitated our current populist backlash.

We live in the age of neoliberalism, apparently. But who are neoliberalism’s adherents and disseminators—the neoliberals? Oddly, you would almost have to go back to the early 1980s to find anyone explicitly embracing neoliberalism. In 1982, Charles Peters, the longtime editor of The Washington Monthly, published an essay called “A Neo-Liberal’s Manifesto.” It makes for interesting reading thirty-five years later, since the neoliberalism it describes bears little resemblance to today’s target of derision. The politicians whom Peters names as exemplifying the movement are not Thatcher and Reagan, but Bill Bradley, Gary Hart, and Paul Tsongas. The journalists and academics whom he lists include James Fallows, Michael Kinsley, and Lester Thurow. Peters’s neoliberals are liberals (in the U.S. sense of the word) who have dropped their prejudices in favor of unions and big government and against markets and the military.

The use of the term “neoliberal” exploded in the 1990s, when it became closely associated with two developments, neither of which Peters mentions. One was financial deregulation, which would culminate in the 2008 financial crash—the first that the United States had experienced since the interwar period—and in the still-lingering euro debacle. The second was economic globalization, which accelerated thanks to free flows of finance and to a new, more ambitious type of trade agreement. Financialization and globalization have become the most overt manifestations of neoliberalism in today’s world.

That neoliberalism is a slippery, shifting concept, with no explicit lobby of defenders, does not mean that it is irrelevant or unreal. Who can deny that the world has experienced a decisive shift toward markets from the 1980s on? Or that center-left politicians—Democrats in the United States, Socialists and Social Democrats in Europe—enthusiastically adopted some of the central creeds of Thatcherism and Reaganism, such as deregulation, privatization, financial liberalization, and individual enterprise? Much of our contemporary policy discussion remains infused with norms and principles supposedly grounded in homo economicus.

But the looseness of the term neoliberalism also means that criticism of it often misses the mark. There is nothing wrong with markets, private entrepreneurship, or incentives—when deployed appropriately. Their creative use lies behind the most significant economic achievements of our time. As we heap scorn on neoliberalism, we risk throwing out some of neoliberalism’s useful ideas.

The real trouble is that mainstream economics shades too easily into ideology, constraining the choices that we appear to have and providing cookie-cutter solutions. A proper understanding of the economics that lies behind neoliberalism would allow us to identify—and to reject—ideology when it masquerades as economic science. Most importantly it would help us develop the institutional imagination we badly need to redesign capitalism for the twenty-first century.   

Neoliberalism is typically understood as based on key tenets of mainstream economic science. To see those tenets, without the ideology, consider a thought experiment.

A well-known and highly regarded economist lands in a country he has never visited and knows nothing about. He is brought to a meeting with the country’s leading policymakers. “Our country is in trouble,” they tell him. “The economy is stagnant, investment is low, and there is no growth in sight.” They turn to him expectantly: “Please tell us what we should do to make our economy grow.”

The economist pleads ignorance and explains that he knows too little about the country to make any recommendations. He would need to study the history of the economy, to analyze the statistics, and to travel around the country before he could say anything. But his hosts are insistent. “We understand your reticence and we wish you had the time for all that,” they tell him. “But isn’t economics a science, and aren’t you one of its most distinguished practitioners? Even though you do not know much about our economy, surely there are some general theories and prescriptions you can share with us to guide our economic policies and reforms.”

The economist is now in a bind. He does not want to emulate those economic gurus he has long criticized for peddling their favorite policy advice. But he feels challenged by the question. Are there universal truths in economics? Can he say anything valid (and possibly useful)?

So he begins. The efficiency with which an economy’s resources are allocated is a critical determinant of the economy’s performance, he says. Efficiency, in turn, requires aligning the incentives of households and businesses with social costs and benefits. The incentives faced by entrepreneurs, investors, and producers are particularly important when it comes to economic growth. Growth needs a system of property rights and contract enforcement that will ensure those who invest can retain the returns on their investments. And the economy must be open to ideas and innovations from the rest of the world.

But economies can be derailed by macroeconomic instability, he goes on. Governments must therefore pursue a sound monetary policy, which means restricting the growth of liquidity to the increase in nominal money demand at reasonable inflation. They must ensure fiscal sustainability, so that the increase in public debt does not outpace national income. And they must carry out prudential regulation of banks and other financial institutions to prevent the financial system from taking excessive risk.

Now he is warming up to his task. Economics is not just about efficiency and growth, he adds. Economic principles also carry over to equity and social policy. Economics has little to say about how much redistribution a society should seek. But it does tell us that the tax base should be as broad as possible and that social programs should be designed in a way that does not encourage workers to drop out of the labor market.

By the time the economist stops, it appears as if he has laid out a full-fledged neoliberal agenda. A critic in the audience will have heard all the code words: efficiency, incentives, property rights, sound money, fiscal prudence. Yet the universal principles that the economist describes are in fact quite open-ended. They presume a capitalist economy—one in which investment decisions are made by private individuals and firms—but not much beyond that. They admit—indeed they require—a surprising variety of institutional arrangements.

So has the economist just delivered a neoliberal screed? We would be mistaken to think so, and our mistake would consist of associating each abstract term—incentives, property rights, sound money—with a particular institutional counterpart. And therein lies the central conceit, and the fatal flaw, of neoliberalism: the belief that first-order economic principles map onto a unique set of policies, approximated by a Thatcher–Reagan-style agenda.  

Consider property rights. They matter insofar as they allocate returns on investments. An optimal system would distribute property rights to those who would make the best use of an asset and afford protection against those most likely to expropriate the returns. Property rights are good when they protect innovators from free riders, but they are bad when they protect them from competition. Depending on the context, a legal regime that provides the appropriate incentives can look quite different from the standard U.S. style regime of private property rights.

This may seem like a semantic point with little practical import; but China’s phenomenal economic success is largely due to its orthodox-defying institutional tinkering. China turned to markets, but did not copy Western practices in property rights. Its reforms produced market-based incentives through a series of unusual institutional arrangements that were better adapted to the local context. Rather than move directly from state to private ownership, for example, which would have been stymied by the weakness of the prevailing legal structures, the country relied on mixed forms of ownership that provided more effective property rights for entrepreneurs in practice. Township and Village Enterprises (TVEs), which spearheaded Chinese economic growth during the 1980s, were collectives owned and controlled by local governments. Even though they were publicly owned, entrepreneurs received the protection against expropriation they needed. Local governments had a direct stake in the profits of the firms and hence did not want to kill the goose that lays the golden eggs.

China relied on a range of such innovations, each delivering the economist’s higher-order economic principles in unfamiliar institutional arrangements. Dual-track pricing, which retained compulsory grain deliveries to the state but allowed farmers to sell excess produce in free markets, provided supply-side incentives while insulating public finances from the adverse effects of full liberalization. The so-called Household Responsibility System gave farmers the incentive to invest in and improve the land they worked on, while obviating the need for explicit privatization. Special economic zones provided export incentives and attracted foreign investors without removing protection for state firms (and hence safeguarding domestic employment). In view of such departures from orthodox blueprints, calling China’s economic reforms a neoliberal turn, as critics are inclined to do, distorts more than it reveals. If we are to call this neoliberalism, we must surely look more kindly on the ideas behind the most dramatic poverty reduction in history.

One might protest that China’s institutional innovations were purely transitional. Perhaps it will have to converge on Western-style institutions to sustain its economic progress. But this common line of thinking overlooks the diversity of capitalist arrangements that still prevails among advanced economies, despite the considerable homogenization of our policy discourse.

What, after all, are Western institutions? The importance of the public sector, for example, in the club of rich Organization For Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) countries varies from a third of the economy in Korea to nearly 60 percent in Finland. In Iceland, 86 percent of workers are members of a trade union; the comparable number in Switzerland is just 16 percent. In the United States firms can fire workers almost at will; French labor laws require employers to jump through many hoops first. Stock markets have grown to nearly one-and-a-half times national income in the United States; in Germany, they are only a third as large, representing one-half of national income.

The idea that any one of these models of taxation, labor relations, or financial organization is inherently superior to the others is belied by the varying economic fortunes that each of these economies have experienced over recent decades. The United States has gone through successive periods of angst in which its economic institutions were judged inferior to those in Germany, Japan, China, and now possibly Germany again. Certainly comparable levels of wealth and productivity can be produced under very different models of capitalism. We might even go a step further: today’s prevailing models probably come nowhere near exhausting the range of what might be possible (and desirable) in the future. 

The visiting economist in our thought experiment knows all this and recognizes that the principles he has enunciated need to be filled in with institutional detail before they become operational. Property rights? Yes, but how? Sound money? Of course, but how? It would perhaps be easier to criticize his list of principles for being vacuous than to denounce it as a neoliberal screed.

Still, these principles are not entirely content free. China, and indeed all countries that managed to develop rapidly, demonstrate their utility once they are properly adapted to local context. Conversely, too many economies have been driven to ruin courtesy of political leaders who chose to violate them. We need look no further than Latin American populists or Eastern European communist regimes to appreciate the practical significance of sound money, fiscal sustainability, and private incentives.

Of course economics goes beyond a list of abstract, largely common sense principles. Much of the work of economists consists of developing stylized models of how actual economies work and then confronting those models with evidence. Economists tend to think of what they do as progressively refining their understanding of the world: their models are supposed to get better and better as they are tested and revised over time. But progress in economics happens differently.

Economists study a social reality that is unlike the physical universe of natural scientists. It is completely man-made, highly malleable, and operates according to different rules across time and space. Economics advances not by settling on the right model or theory to answer such questions, but by improving our understanding of the diversity of causal relationships. Neoliberalism and its customary remedies—always more markets, always less government—are in fact a perversion of mainstream economics. Good economists know that the correct answer to any question in economics is: it depends.

Does an increase in the minimum wage depress employment? Yes, if the labor market is really competitive and employers have no control over the wage they must pay to attract workers; but not necessarily otherwise. Does trade liberalization increase economic growth? Yes, if it increases the profitability of industries where the bulk of investment and innovation takes place; but not otherwise. Does more government spending increase employment? Yes, if there is slack in the economy and wages do not rise; but not otherwise. Does monopoly harm innovation? Yes and no, depending on a whole host of market circumstances.

In economics, new models rarely supplant older models. The basic competitive-markets model dating back to Adam Smith has been modified over time by the inclusion, in rough historical order, of monopoly, externalities, scale economies, incomplete and asymmetric information, irrational behavior, and many other real world features. Yet the older models remain as useful as ever. Understanding how real markets operate necessitates different lenses at different times.

Perhaps maps offer the best analogy. Just like economic models, maps are highly stylized representations of reality. They are useful precisely because they abstract from many real world details that would get in the way. Realistic full-scale maps would be hopelessly impractical artifacts, as Jorge Luis Borges described in a short story that remains the best and most succinct explication of the scientific method. But abstraction also implies that we need a different map depending on the nature of our journey. If we are traveling by bike, we need a map of bike trails. If we are to go on foot, we need a map of foot paths. If a new subway is constructed, we will need a subway map—but we wouldn’t throw out the older maps.      

Economists tend to be very good at making maps, but not good enough at choosing the one most suited to the task at hand. When confronted with policy questions of the type our visiting economist faces, too many of them resort to “benchmark” models that favor laissez-faire. Knee-jerk solutions and hubris replace the richness and humility of the discussion in the seminar room. John Maynard Keynes once defined economics as the “science of thinking in terms of models joined to the art of choosing models which are relevant.” Economists typically have trouble with the “art” part.

I have illustrated this too with a parable. A journalist calls an economics professor for his view on whether free trade is a good idea. The professor responds enthusiastically in the affirmative. The journalist then goes undercover as a student in the professor’s advanced graduate seminar on international trade. He poses the same question: Is free trade good? This time the professor is stymied. “What do you mean by ‘good?’” he responds. “And good for whom?” The professor then launches into an extensive exegesis that will ultimately culminate in a heavily hedged statement: “So if the long list of conditions I have just described are satisfied, and assuming we can tax the beneficiaries to compensate the losers, freer trade has the potential to increase everyone’s well being.” If he is in an expansive mood, the professor might add that the effect of free trade on an economy’s long-term growth rate is not clear either and would depend on an altogether different set of requirements.

This professor is rather different from the one the journalist encountered previously. On the record, he exudes self-confidence, not reticence, about the appropriate policy. There is one and only one model, at least as far as the public conversation is concerned, and there is a single correct answer regardless of context. Strangely, the professor deems the knowledge that he imparts to his advanced students to be inappropriate (or dangerous) for the general public. Why?

The roots of such behavior lie deep in the sociology and the culture of the economics profession. But one important motive is the zeal to display the profession’s crown jewels in untarnished form—market efficiency, the invisible hand, comparative advantage—and to shield them from attack by self-interested barbarians, namely the protectionists. Unfortunately, these economists typically ignore the barbarians on the other side of the issue—financiers and multinational corporations whose motives are no purer and who are all too ready to hijack these ideas for their own benefit.

As a result, economists’ contributions to public debate are often biased in one direction, in favor of more trade, more finance, and less government. That is why economists have developed a reputation as cheerleaders for neoliberalism, even if mainstream economics is very far from a paean to laissez-faire. The economists who let their enthusiasm for free markets run wild are in fact not being true to their own discipline.

*

How then should we think about globalization in order to liberate it from the grip of neoliberal practices? We must begin by understanding the positive potential of global markets. Access to world markets in goods, technologies, and capital has played an important role in virtually all of the economic miracles of our time. China is the most recent and powerful reminder of this historical truth, but it is not the only case. Before China, similar miracles were performed by South Korea, Taiwan, Japan, and a few non-Asian countries such as Chile and Mauritius. All of these countries embraced globalization rather than turn their backs on it, and they benefited handsomely.

Defenders of the existing economic order will quickly point to these examples when globalization comes into question. What they will fail to say is that almost all of these countries joined the world economy by violating neoliberal strictures. China shielded its large state sector from global competition, establishing special economic zones where foreign firms could operate with different rules than in the rest of the economy. South Korea and Taiwan heavily subsidized their exporters, the former through the financial system and the latter through tax incentives. All of them eventually removed most of their import restrictions, long after economic growth had taken off. But none, with the sole exception of Chile in the 1980s under Pinochet, followed the neoliberal recommendation of a rapid opening­-up to imports. Chile’s neoliberal experiment eventually produced the worst economic crisis in all of Latin America. While the details differ across countries, in all cases governments played an active role in restructuring the economy and buffeting it from a volatile external environment. Industrial policies, restrictions on capital flows, and currency controls—all prohibited in the neoliberal playbook—were rampant.

By contrast, countries that stuck closest to the neoliberal model of globalization were sorely disappointed. Mexico provides a particularly sad example. Following a series of macroeconomic crises in the mid-1990s, Mexico embraced macroeconomic orthodoxy, extensively liberalized its economy, freed up the financial system, sharply reduced import restrictions, and signed the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA). These policies did produce macroeconomic stability and a significant rise in foreign trade and internal investment. But where it counts—in overall productivity and economic growth—the experiment failed. Since undertaking the reforms, overall productivity in Mexico has stagnated, and the economy has underperformed even by the undemanding standards of Latin America.

These outcomes are not a surprise from the perspective of sound economics. They are yet another manifestation of the need for economic policies to be attuned to the failures to which markets are prone, and to be tailored to the specific circumstances of each country. No single blueprint fits all.

*

Before globalization took a turn towards what we might call hyper-globalization, the rules were flexible and recognized this fact. Keynes and his colleagues viewed international trade and investment as a means for achieving domestic economic and social goals—full employment and broad-based prosperity—when they designed the global economic architecture in Bretton Woods in 1944. From the 1990s on, however, globalization became an end in itself. Global economic arrangements were now driven by a single-minded focus on reducing impediments to the flows of goods, capital, and money across national borders—though not of workers, where the economic gains in fact would have been much larger. 

This perversion of priorities revealed itself in the way trade agreements began to reach behind borders and remake domestic institutions. Investment regulations, health and safety rules, environmental policies, and industrial promotion schemes all became potential targets for abolition if they were deemed to stand in the way of foreign trade and investment. Large international firms, rendered footloose by the new rules, acquired special privileges. Corporate taxes had to be lowered to attract investors (or prevent them from leaving). Foreign enterprises and investors were given the right to sue national governments in special offshore tribunals when changes in domestic regulations threatened to reduce their profits. Nowhere was the new deal more damaging than in financial globalization, which produced not greater investment and growth, as promised, but one painful crash after another.

Just as economics must be saved from neoliberalism, globalization has to be saved from hyper-globalization. An alternative globalization, more in keeping with the Bretton Woods spirit, is not difficult to imagine: a globalization that recognizes the multiplicity of capitalist models and therefore enables countries to shape their own economic destinies. Instead of maximizing the volume of trade and foreign investment and harmonizing away regulatory differences, it would focus on traffic rules that manage the interface of different economic systems. It would open up policy space for advanced countries as well as developing ones—the former so they can reconstruct their social bargains through better social, tax, and labor market policies, and the latter so they can pursue the restructuring they need for economic growth. It would require more humility on the part of economists and policy technocrats about appropriate prescriptions, and hence a much greater willingness to experiment.

*

As Peters’s early manifesto attests, the meaning of neoliberalism has changed considerably over time as the label has acquired harder-line connotations with respect to deregulation, financialization, and globalization. But there is one thread that connects all versions of neoliberalism, and that is the emphasis on economic growth. Peters wrote in 1982 that the emphasis was warranted because growth is essential to all our social and political ends—community, democracy, prosperity. Entrepreneurship, private investment, and removing obstacles (such as excessive regulation) that stand in the way were all instruments for achieving economic growth. If a similar neoliberal manifesto were penned today, it would no doubt make the same point.

Critics often point out that this emphasis on economics debases and sacrifices other important values such as equality, social inclusion, democratic deliberation, and justice. Those political and social objectives obviously matter enormously, and in some contexts they matter the most. They cannot always, or even often, be achieved by means of technocratic economic policies; politics must play a central role.

But neoliberals are not wrong when they argue that our most cherished ideals are more likely to be attained when our economy is vibrant, strong, and growing. Where they are wrong is in believing that there is a unique and universal recipe for improving economic performance to which they have access. The fatal flaw of neoliberalism is that it does not even get the economics right. It must be rejected on its own terms for the simple reason that it is bad economics.

Boston Review 

Everything You Know About Neoliberalism Is Wrong – Bill Mitchell and Thomas Fazi.

Even though neoliberalism as an ideology springs from a desire to curtail the state’s role, neoliberalism as a political-economic reality has produced increasingly powerful, interventionist and ever-reaching – even authoritarian – state apparatuses.

The process of neoliberalisation has entailed extensive and permanent state intervention, including: the liberalisation of goods and capital markets; the privatisation of resources and social services; the deregulation of business, and financial markets in particular; the reduction of workers’ rights (first and foremost, the right to collective bargaining) and more in general the repression of labour activism; the lowering of taxes on wealth and capital, at the expense of the middle and working classes; the slashing of social programmes, and so on.

These policies were systemically pursued throughout the West (and imposed on developing countries) with unprecedented determination, and with the support of all the major international institutions and political parties.

In this sense, neoliberal ideology, at least in its official anti-state guise, should be considered little more than a convenient alibi for what has been and is essentially a political and state-driven project, aimed at placing the commanding heights of economic policy ‘in the hands of capital, and primarily financial interests’.

Capital remains as dependent on the state today as it did in under ‘Keynesianism’ – to police the working classes, bail out large firms that would otherwise go bankrupt, open up markets abroad, etc. In the months and years that followed the financial crash of 2007-9, capital’s – and capitalism’s – continued dependency on the state in the age of neoliberalism became glaringly obvious, as the governments of the US and Europe and elsewhere bailed out their respective financial institutions to the tune of trillions of euros/dollars.

In Europe, following the outbreak of the so-called ‘euro crisis’ in 2010, this was accompanied by a multi-level assault on the post-war European social and economic model aimed at restructuring and re-engineering European societies and economies along lines more favourable to capital.

Nonetheless, the flawed notion that neoliberalism entails a retreat of the state continues to remain a fixture of the left. This is further compounded by the idea that the state has been rendered powerless by the forces of globalisation. Conventional wisdom holds that globalisation and the internationalisation of finance have ended the era of nation states and their capacity to pursue policies not in accord with the diktats of global capital. But does the evidence support the assertion that national sovereignty has truly reached the end of its days?

Social Europe

ARE WE AS BRAVE AS LABOUR IN THE 1930s?- Bryan Gould.

New Zealanders like to think that we are, in most respects, up with – if not actually ahead of – the play. Sadly, however, as a new government is about to emerge, there is no sign that our politicians and policymakers are aware of recent developments in a crucial area of policy, and that, as a result, we are in danger of missing out on opportunities that others have been ready to take.

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The story starts, at least in its most recent form, with two important developments. First, there is the now almost universal recognition that the vast majority of money in circulation is not – as most people once believed – notes and coins issued on behalf of the government by the Reserve Bank, but is actually created by the commercial banks through the credit they advance, using bank entries rather than cash, and usually on mortgage.

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The truth of this proposition, so long denied, is now explicitly accepted by the Bank of England, and was – as long ago as 1994 – explained in a letter written by our own Reserve Bank to an enquirer, and stating in terms that 97% of the money included in the usually used definition of money known as M3 is created by the commercial banks.

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The proposition is endorsed by the world’s leading monetary economists – Lord Adair Turner, the former chair of the UK’s Financial Services Authority and Professor Richard Werner of Southampton University, to name but two. These men are not snake-oil salesmen, to be easily dismissed. They have been joined by leading financial journalists, such as Martin Wolf of the Financial Times.

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The second development was the use by western governments around the world of “quantitative easing” in the aftermath of the Global Financial Crisis. “Quantitative easing” was a sanitised term to describe what is often pejoratively termed “printing money” – but, whatever it is called, it was new money created at the behest of the government and used to bail out the banks by adding it to their balance sheets.

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These two developments, not surprisingly, generated a number of unavoidable questions about monetary policy. If banks could create billions in new money for their own profit-making purposes, (they make their money by charging interest on the money they create), why could governments not do the same, but for public purposes, such as investment in new infrastructure and productive capacity?

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And if governments were indeed to create new money through “quantitative easing”, why could that new money not be applied to purposes other than shoring up the banks?

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The conventional answer to such questions (and the one invariably given in New Zealand by supposed experts in recent times) is that “printing money” will be inflationary – though it is never explained why it is miraculously non-inflationary when the new money is created by bank loans on mortgage or is applied to bail out the banks.

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But, in any case, the master economist, John Maynard Keynes, had got there long before the closed minds and had carefully explained that new money could not be inflationary if it was applied to productive purposes so that new output matched the increased money supply. Nor was there any reason why the new money should not precede the increased output, provided that the increased output materialised in due course.

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Those timorous souls who doubt the Keynesian argument might care to look instead at practical experience. Franklin Delano Roosevelt used exactly this technique to increase investment in American industry in the year or two before the US entered the Second World War. It was that substantial boost to American industrial capacity that was the decisive factor in allowing the Allies to win the war.

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And the great Japanese (and Keynesian) economist, Osamu Shimomura, (almost unknown in the West), took the same approach in advising the post-war Japanese government on how to re-build Japanese industry in a country devastated by defeat and nuclear bombs.

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The current Japanese Prime Minister, Shinzo Abe, is a follower of Shimomura. His policies, reapplied today, have Japan growing, after years of stagnation, at 4% per annum and with minimal inflation.

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Our leaders, however, including luminaries of both right and left, some with experience of senior roles in managing our economy – and in case it is thought impolite to name them I leave it to you to guess who they are – prefer to remain in their fearful self-imposed shackles, ignoring not only the views of experts and the experience of braver leaders in other countries and earlier times, but – surprisingly enough – denying even our own home-grown New Zealand experience.

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Many of today’s generation will have forgotten or be unaware of the brave and successful initiative taken by our Prime Minister in the 1930s – the great Michael Joseph Savage. He created new money with which he built thousands of state houses, thereby bringing an end to the Great Depression in New Zealand and providing decent houses for young families (my own included) who needed them.

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Who among our current leaders would disown that hugely valuable legacy?

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Bryan Gould, 2 October 2017

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BryanGould.com

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Stealing From Our Children. The real dilemma of growth and the need for New Economics – Kamal K. Kothari & Chitra Chandrasekhar. 

“In a very rapidly changing scenario, with a burgeoning population, fast-changing demographic profile, and growth aspirations of people around the world putting pressure on natural resources, our economic thoughts and practices have to change.”

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RE-THINKING ECONOMICS

In the beginning there was nothing, no human beings, no animals, no trees, no oceans, no earth, no sun, no stars, not even space or time. A quantum fluctuation leading to the Big Bang almost 14 billion years ago sowed the seeds of the Universe and space and time, as we know it. In the initial phase, stars, black holes, and galaxies were formed. The Earth, our home planet, was born almost 10 billion years later, about 4 billion years ago. It was then a fiery ball and took almost 1 billion years to cool down. Seeds of life sprouted about 3 billion years ago, some say spontaneously, while others hold a view through panspermia, no one knows for sure.

While the earth was cooling, life forms were evolving and the planet was undergoing cataclysmic changes. Continents were shifting and breaking apart, ocean floors were rising and sinking, volcanoes were erupting. Forests, animals, fishes, amphibians came and disappeared, so much so that according to some, 99.9% of the species in existence since beginning of life on Earth have ceased to exist. These changes, over a period of hundreds of millions of years, left us the legacy of natural resources—coal, crude oil, natural gas— and minerals so necessary for industrial processes and evolution of a technological civilisation.

Life forms continued to evolve. Humans came on the scene. No one is sure, but it is said that human sub-species evolved about half a million years ago in the African Savannah. With human civilisations, human aspiration too continued to develop and grow, perhaps slowly, if we were to compare it with the developments in the last 100 years.

The advent of the Industrial Revolution, which started in Europe around 1760, brought in its wake a transformation. Progress brought about by technology encouraged a shift from primarily an agricultural world to an industrial one. Rapid shifts took place in many parts of the world, mainly Europe and North America, and in the earlier part of the last century, in Japan. Such shifts are now taking place in parts of Asia, mainly India and China, Latin America, and Africa. These changes, by themselves great achievements for mankind, have led to a burgeoning population and major demographic changes. An off-shoot of this technological progress has been that more intensive and concentrated methods of food production are required for supporting technological societies and longer human life spans, stemming from better healthcare. 

About the time of the birth of Jesus Christ, the planet supported a population of about 200 million human beings, which, by the early 19th century i.e. in a period of about 1,830 years touched a billion people. In another 185 years, we have expanded 7-fold to over 7.2 billion people and we are still continuing to expand. The advent of technological changes and exploitation of natural resources has improved the living conditions of human beings, and on an average a human being lives better, is better fed, and better educated than any other time in the history of mankind.

All this has been brought about by scientific advances in different fields such as Quantum Physics, Relativity, Material Sciences, Chemistry, Agricultural Sciences, and so on and so forth.

The list is endless.

However, a large population and better living standards have created their own challenges in fields as diverse as economics, social sciences, ecology, and environment. At the heart of these is the rapid exploitation of natural resources, be it in the form of energy-generating resources like coal or crude oil, mineral resources like ores, or environmental resources, which are being degraded in the pursuit of economic growth.

These issues are well known, and have been discussed in various fora for decades now. The first Club of Rome report, Limits to Growth, which was published in 1972, raises many issues pertinent to these changes. That landmark report and subsequent Club of Rome reports, which generated extensive debates in the 1970s, now lie peacefully buried in the archives of libraries around the world. While these issues are still relevant, it is not the intent of this book to reiterate them. 

Along with technological progress, economic theories evolved as well. A key aspect of economic theories was better and more efficient utilisation of resources, be it capital, land or labour. These concepts and theories optimized utilisation of resources and went a long way in improving the living standards of mankind across the world.

These economic theories, which have served us well for many decades now, need a relook, particularly from the point of view of sustainability. If we lived in a world where resources were infinite or virtually limitless in relation to our consumption, we would have had no issues. But that is indeed not the case, more so, as our population and resource consumption have been expanding exponentially. Using current methods of economic analysis, capital allocation really promotes gross long-term inefficiencies in our resource utilisation. If we continue with these approaches, our societies would become unsustainable.

The authors have long held the view that not only do our economic theories lead to unsustainable development, but really amount to stealing from our future generations. We compare our society to a rich man who sells his family silver to sustain his lifestyle and in the end leaves practically nothing for his children. What is worse in our case is that we would leave our children a huge debt, which they would have to pay. This book will provide enough evidence that our economic and capital allocation models do the same thing: promote current consumption at the cost of future generations. The problem is further compounded by the short-sightedness of the political class in most nations of the world where the focus seems to be the next year, the next election, or in non-democratic societies, growth in personal wealth or stature. Similarly, the corporate world around us generally thinks of the next quarter, the next shareholders’ meet, and the bonuses, which the top managers can persuade the Boards and shareholders to pay them. Few think of the long-term strategies for the company, and fewer still about long-term sustainability issues.

Most businesses use capital allocation models to optimise their working. Similar concepts are, at least theoretically, used by countries (where their leaders are not driven by political considerations, which is not often) to utilise national resources. Few realise the pitfalls of such models.  So wide is the use of these models that working of all banks would come to a standstill if somehow these formulae were to be erased from their computers.

Capital allocation models are generally skewed in favour of current consumption. They place a premium on current consumption and earlier use of the resources vis-à-vis saving them for the future generations. For example, if we can pump a barrel of oil now and its price is US$100, our benefit (less the pumping out cost, which we for the sake of simplicity assume to be zero) is US$100. But if we leave the same barrel of oil underground so that someone else can use it 50 years later at a 10% cost of capital, the value of the same barrel of oil today is 85 cents. If we were more farsighted and do not use it for 100 years, the present value falls to 0.7 cents. So our incentive is in using the resource as fast as possible. Of course, in doing this analysis we conveniently forget that nature took several hundred million years to generate the same barrel of oil.

Another way of looking at the same situation is, if, for the sake of argument, through some technological breakthrough it is possible to extract 100 barrels of oil after 50 years, but if the field were to be exploited now, only 1 barrel could be extracted and the remaining 99 barrels are lost forever. Managers would still find it desirable to extract that one barrel of oil now, notwithstanding the fact that future generations would lose 99 barrels of oil. This example may sound extreme, but analogous decisions are routinely taken globally. As a result, the rate of consumption of natural resources is so high that the world reserves of many key resources would be exhausted in a couple of generations. As these resources get exhausted, their availability would decline, although this fall would be generally gradual. But a fall in resource availability would impact industrial production as well as all the consequences that would inevitably result from it.

Everybody would be impacted. No one would be spared. But youngsters in their twenties and thirties, with 30 to 40 years of working life remaining, would be most affected. Their hopes, aspiration and dreams of a comfortable and peaceful retirement after years and years of hard work would stand shattered as money, not backed by availability of goods and services, would lose value as its purchasing power falls.

The aim of this book is to bring out the deep lacunae in our economic thought and practices. The existing economic practices were developed when natural resources were plentiful, the global population small, and natural resource consumption minuscule in relation to the reserves. But in a very rapidly changing scenario, with a burgeoning population, fast-changing demographic profile, and growth aspirations of people around the world putting pressure on natural resources, our economic thoughts and practices have to change.

No change is without associated pain. We are all comfortable with the present thought processes, which predict steady and sustained growth based on the implicit assumption that resources are unlimited. But the reality is that we live in a finite world with limited resources, and after that reality is factored in, none of these projections hold true. And the sooner we realise this, the better it is and perhaps less painful too.

This book is divided into two sections. The first section, The Context, highlights the world we live in and how fast we are consuming our resources and impacting the environment. Some readers may find The Context grim and depressing, but we have painted the picture as we see it based on the best available information. We would request such readers bear with us or simply move on to the next part, The New Economic Paradigm, and then come back to The Context. In the second part, The New Economic Paradigm, we have suggested a new approach to our economic theories, which would lead to a more sustainable world.

***

“Humans are extremely intelligent and yet extremely foolish. They have failed to perceive the inter-linkages in the Web of Life; remove a few links and the Web could collapse, threatening their own existence.”

***

Stealing From Our Children. The real dilemma of growth and the need for New Economics – Kamal K. Kothari and Chitra Chandrasekhar. 

get it from Amazon.com


University of Otago’s Andrew Coleman looks at the intergenerational effects of the tax system on New Zealand’s housing markets. 

The tax system plays a crucial role in New Zealand’s housing markets. At the simplest level, the Goods and Services Tax is applied to new land development and new house construction, raising the price of new housing by 15%.

But the effects of the tax system are more complicated than this.

Since 1986 several tax changes have caused an intergenerational rift in New Zealand society by increasing the prices young people pay to purchase houses.

Some of these tax changes appear justifiable on efficiency grounds, but even these have made it more expensive for young people to purchase or rent property.

In conjunction with other tax changes that have artificially raised property prices, a generation of older property owners have become rich at the expense of current and future generations of New Zealanders.

The scale of the problem

The scale of the problem is seen by observing how average property prices have increased by over 220% in inflation-adjusted terms since 1989; the highest rate of increase in the developed world.

The average size of new houses has also increased more quickly than in Australia or the United States, the only two countries that publish this data.

The average size of a new dwelling in 2013 was 198 m2, up from 125 m2 in 1989, and nearly twice as large as the average new house in Europe.

The tax changes that have affected housing can be divided into those that affect the cost of supplying housing and those that affect the demand for housing.

Unfortunately, unravelling the effect of taxes on house prices and rents is challenging.

The effects depend on the extent that the supply of new housing is responsive to prices.

If the supply of housing is very responsive to prices, taxes that affect supply prices (such as GST) become fully reflected in prices, while taxes that affect demand (such as the relative size of taxes on housing income and other assets) do not. Conversely, if the supply of housing is not really responsive to prices, supply taxes like GST have little effect on prices but demand taxes have large effects.

The analysis is further complicated because the supply of land – particularly land in good locations – is less responsive to price than the supply of new houses.

It is quite possible that a particular tax can simultaneously lead to higher land prices but not much new land, and larger houses but not much of an increase in building costs.

Since 1989, the ways that the tax system affects the demand for housing has been the biggest problem.

The fundamental difficulty is that the returns from other classes of assets such as interest income are more heavily taxed than the returns from housing.

Because interest is more heavily taxed than the returns from owneroccupied housing – which are essentially the rent people get from their own home – people have an incentive to live in larger houses than otherwise, and pay more for well-located properties.

In the absence of this tax distortion, many people would choose to live in smaller houses and land prices in major cities would be a lot lower.

It is not unreasonable to suspect the premium people pay for well-located properties is twice as high as they would pay under a non-distortionary tax system.

Incentives

But this is not all. The tax system provides incentives for landlords to pay a much higher price/rent multiple for the houses they lease, largely because the absence of a capital gains tax.

Because the houseprice/ rent multiple could increase either because house prices increase or because rents decline (or some combination of both), the tax system could make buying more expensive or it could make renting more affordable. Most of the evidence suggests house prices have increased rather than rents have fallen; either way, the result is a tax-induced decline in home ownership rates.

When the tax system causes artificially high house prices, costs are imposed on current and future generations of young people, who have to borrow more and pay higher mortgage costs.

Why 1989? New Zealanders have never paid tax on the capital gains associated with house price increases, and the way housing is taxed was not fundamentally changed in 1989.

This is true. But the distortionary effects of taxation depend on the way houses are taxed relative to other asset classes, and in 1989 the government changed the way some other capital income is taxed.

Until 1989, money placed into retirement saving schemes was tax deductible, and the earnings from this money were not taxed as they accumulated.

Under this tax scheme – which is used in most developed countries including the United Kingdom, the United States, France, Germany, and Japan – the money placed in these savings schemes is taxed in a similar way to housing.

It reduces the incentive for owner-occupiers and landlords to overinvest in housing.

While the distortions in the current tax system could be eliminated by introducing a capital gains tax on housing and all other assets, and by taxing the rent you implicitly pay yourself when you own your home, most countries have found this too difficult to do.

As they have discovered, it is far simpler to change the way other savings are taxed.

On the supply side, in addition to GST, the Local Government Act (2002) has also affected the cost of supplying housing by changing taxes.

Instead of levying property taxes (rates) to fund the costs of developing new sections, local governments have progressively imposed development charges.

This change has improved efficiency by moving the costs of a larger city to the new people populating it, but it has also increased the price of housing right across cities.

People who bought before 2002 shifted the cost of new development to others, increasing the value of their houses, even though their development costs had been paid by other ratepayers.

For a long time, economists have pointed out that if you tax the income from housing less than other assets, you tend to increase land prices.

At the macroeconomic level, they have noted that this tends to increase national debt levels, and lower national income.

The first owners of land benefit from these schemes, but everyone else loses.

Perhaps this is a reason why other countries have been concerned to tax housing on a similar basis to other assets.

It is unfortunate New Zealand does not do so, even if the tax changes implemented since the late 1980s have proved very advantageous to middle-aged and older generations.

Interest.co.nz