Robert J. Shiller
Robert J. Shiller, a 2013 Nobel
laureate in economics, is Professor of Economics at Yale University and
the co-creator of the Case-Shiller Index of US house prices. He is the
author of Irrational Exuberance, the third edition of which was published in January 2015, and, most recently, Phishing for P… read more
NEW
HAVEN – What do people mean when they criticize generals for “fighting
the last war”? It’s not that generals ever think they will face the same
weapon systems and the same battlefields. They certainly know better.
The error, to the extent that the generals make it, must operate at a
more subtle level. Generals are sometimes slow to get around to
developing plans and ordnance for those new weapon systems and
battlefields. And just as important, they sometimes assume that the
public psychology, and the narratives that influence the morale that is so important in achieving victory, is the same as in the last war.
That
is also true for regulators whose job is to prevent financial crises.
For the same reasons, they may be slow to change in response to new
situations. They tend to be slow to adapt to changing public psychology.
The need for regulation depends on public perceptions of the last
crisis, and, as George Akerlof and I argued in Animal Spirits, these perceptions depend heavily on changing popular narratives.
The
latest progress reports from the Financial Stability Board (FSB) in
Basel outline definite improvements in stability-enhancing financial
regulations in 24 of the world’s largest economies. Their “Dashboard”
tabulates progress in 14 different regulatory areas. For example, the
FSB gives high marks for all 24 countries in implementing the Basel III
risk-based capital requirements.
But
the situation is not altogether reassuring. These risk-based capital
requirements may not be high enough, as Anat Admati and Martin Hellwig
argued in their influential book The Bankers New Clothes. And there has been much less progress in a dozen other regulatory areas that the FSB tabulates.
Consider,
for example, regulations regarding money market funds, which, according
to the FSB, only a few countries have developed since 2008. Money
market funds are an alternative to banks for storing one’s money,
offering somewhat higher interest rates, but without the insurance that
protects bank deposits in many countries. As with bank deposits,
investors can take their money out at any time. And, like bank deposits,
the funds are potentially subject to a run if a large number of people
try to withdraw their money at the same time.
On
September 16, 2008, a few days after the run on the US bank Washington
Mutual began and the day after the Lehman Brothers bankruptcy was
announced, a major United States money market fund, Reserve Primary Fund,
which had invested in Lehman debt, was in serious trouble. With assets
totaling less than it owed to investors, the fund seemed to be on the
verge of a run. As panic rose among the public, the federal government,
fearing a major run on other money market funds, guaranteed all such funds for one year, starting September 19, 2008.
The
reason why this run was so alarming as to require unprecedented
government support stems from the narratives underlying it. In fact, the
Reserve Primary Fund did not lose everything. It merely “broke the
buck,” meaning that it couldn’t pay one dollar for a dollar on the
books; but it could still pay $0.97. So why a crisis? After all, bank
depositors regularly lose more when unexpected inflation erodes their
savings’ real purchasing power (only the nominal value of those deposits
is insured). But the narratives don’t focus on that. The loss of real
value due to inflation hasn’t been a prominent theme of the public
narrative in the US for decades, because sustained price stability has
caused people to forget about it.
But
they hadn’t forgotten about the Great Depression of the 1930s, even
though most people alive today weren’t alive then. In 2008, the Great
Depression narrative was being recycled everywhere, with all its
colorful stories of financial panic and angry crowds forming around
closed banks. Moreover, trusted authorities had seemed to say again and
again that such events were historically remote and could not happen
again. In the 2008 angry zeitgeist, the public reaction to a relatively
minor event took on stunning proportions.
It took almost six years after the crisis for the US Securities and Exchange Commission to reduce money market funds’ vulnerability, by requiring in 2014 a “floating NAV”
(net asset value), which means that prime money market funds no longer
promise to pay out a dollar for a dollar’s nominal value. They will pay
out whatever the depositor’s share in the accounts is. This does not
insure the funds’ investors against losses. Yet this plausibly will help
prevent runs because it means sudden withdrawals by some won’t damage
the accounts of others who did not withdraw.
The
international regulatory framework has changed for the better since
2008, but no such changes can anticipate all the kinds of change in
narratives that underlie public animal spirits. Regulators could have
imposed a floating NAV decades ago; they didn’t because they didn’t
foresee a narrative that would make money market funds unstable.
Regulatory authorities could not have been expected to predict the
sudden public attention to the newly discovered risk of runs on nonbank
financial companies.
As
long as we have an economic system that produces growth by rewarding
inspired actors and investors, we will face the risk that adverse talk
and stories can suddenly and temporarily overwhelm the inspiration.
Regulators must counter the risks implied by structures that are
intrinsically destabilizing, as the money market funds were. But the
most urgent regulations will always be time- and context-specific,
because narratives change. And how these narratives resonate with the
public may once again reveal chinks in our financial armor.
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