The Federal Reserve is crucifying the U.S. economy on a cross of two-percent inflation.
The Federal Reserve balance sheet contains roughly $2.5 trillion worth of Treasuries, Fannie Mae bonds and mortgage-backed securities. But there is one asset the Fed considers invaluable. Credibility.
Most people think the central bank's job is manipulating interest rates, but the Fed is really in the business of making and keeping promises about the economy. Lately the Fed is obsessed with a narrow construction of credibility that is holding back the entire country.
The Fed has fetishized two-percent inflation.
WHO'S AFRAID OF 3%?
The Fed makes a very simple promise: It promises to keep inflation at a certain level every year. That level has changed over the past 30 years, but it's currently around 2% a year. If the economy is running too hot, the Fed raises interest rates. If it's running cold, it lowers rates.
For 30 years, this worked spectacularly. Recessions were rare and shallow. Inflation was low. Then 2008 happened. Even zero interest rates weren't enough to revive the collapsing economy. That's still mostly true now. In fact, our disappointing recovery is in large part the result of a central bank
target that no longer serves the economy.
Let's think about why a two-percent
inflation target is a problem now, and what a better target would look
like. The below chart compares the economy's long-term growth trend
(blue) with the actual size of the economy (red). I've included the
numbers going back to 1980 so that you can see that this isn't a case of
the housing bubble making us vastly overestimate the economy's
productive capacity. You can go back further if you like. The results
are the same. The two lines barely deviate from each other -- until now.
(The only other exception is the Great Depression).
have a lot of catching up to do. But a two-percent inflation target --
mostly -- prevents us from getting the catch-up growth we need. Now for
the disclaimer. The Fed doesn't have a strict two-percent mandate. The Fed
is supposed to pursue full employment too. And as Greg Ip of The Economist has pointed out, Bernanke has
said that he is willing to tolerate greater than two-percent inflation if
unemployment is still high. But practically, the Fed's two-percent
inflation target acts like something fairly close to a ceiling. Indeed, wunderkind blogger Evan Soltas
has found that the Fed becomes approximately 17 percent more sensitive
to changes in inflation than in output for each percentage point the Federal funds rate falls. The Fed might say that it'll let inflation run a bit
higher, but history suggests otherwise. So do its forecasts for inflation over the next few years.
that the economic recovery actually picks up. Unemployment is still far
too high, but it's falling at a rapid clip. And here's the crucial bit:
say inflation creeps over 3 percent -- or even hotter. It's hard to
believe the Fed wouldn't tighten in this scenario given its inflation
bias. Higher interest rates would push down growth and slow the decline
in unemployment. In
other words, when the economy is in a deep hole, a too-low inflation
target puts a speed limit on the recovery.
are easy enough fixes for this too. A higher inflation target, for one.
That's basically the same as raising the speed limit. But we can do
better still. To revert to econospeak, a level NGDP target probably
makes the most sense. In English, this means that the Fed should target
the total size of the economy -- that is, inflation and growth together
-- and try to keep it close to its long-term trend. The "level" part of
the "level target" means that the Fed should make up for any past
mistakes. For instance, if the Fed undershoots its targets for a few
years -- basically, the situation we're in now -- then it should try to
catch up and get back to trend as quickly as possible. That's not a
speed limit. It's a speed minimum.
WAIT, HOW WOULD INFLATION HELP?
All of these alternative Fed targets essentially amount to
saying Bernanke and Co. should create more inflation today. That
raises two questions: 1) Would higher inflation really help us, and 2)
If it would help, would it outweigh any costs? Let's consider these in
The case for higher inflation has to do
with debt. More inflation now would make new debt more attractive and
old debt less onerous. When most people think of inflation, they think
about paying more for gas and groceries. How does that make anything
better? The answer is that those prices are set in international markets
and are mostly beyond the control of the Fed. When we talk about the
Fed creating inflation we're talking about wage inflation.
incomes would make it easier to pay off old debts that don't change. To
go back to econospeak one more time, it would speed up the deleveraging
process that's been holding back private demand. It would also make taking out new loans a better deal. We can thank our depressed economy for this. In normal times, higher inflation
just translates into higher interest rates, so more inflation doesn't
make more borrowing make sense. But these aren't normal times. If
inflation goes up, interest rates won't. Borrowers would pay a lower
real interest rate.
There's a specter haunting
this inflation debate -- the specter of the 1970s. Back then, we got
something that most economists at the time didn't think was possible: a
combination of high inflation and high unemployment. (Milton Friedman,
of course, predicted this would happen back in 1968). Previously,
economists had thought there was a fairly clear trade-off between
inflation and unemployment called the Phillips Curve -- if you got more
of one, you got less of the other. What happened in the 1970s? Oil shocks. Cost-of-living-adjustment contracts were common enough back
then that higher oil prices got transmitted to the rest of the economy
in a way they don't today. More expensive oil pushed up both unemployment and
The problems of
the 1970s are not our problems. We've had oil shocks in 2008 and 2011
and 2012 that have not set off inflationary booms. There's little reason
to expect high inflation to coexist with high unemployment today. And as long
as higher inflation is expected, there's little reason to expect
there to be much in the way of actual costs. The Fed just has to tell
us it wants higher inflation.
A CASE OF SELF-INDUCED PARALYSIS?
it's so easy, why isn't the Fed doing it?
On Wednesday, Binyamin Appelbaum of The New York Times asked Ben Bernanke if it was worth tolerating slightly higher inflation over the medium-term to bring unemployment down faster. Here's the Fed Chairman's response:
We, the Federal Reserve, have spent 30 years building up credibility for low
and stable inflation, which has proved extremely valuable in that we've
been able to take strong accommodative actions in the last four, five
years to support the economy without leading to an unanchoring of
inflation expectations or a destabilization of inflation. To risk that
asset for what I think would be quite tentative and perhaps doubtful
gains on the real side would be, I think, an unwise thing to do.
This is equal parts misguided and afraid. Let's
tackle the misguided part first. Inflation has remained low despite the
Fed's unprecedented and unconventional actions the past 4 years not
because of its credibility. Inflation has remained low because of the severity of the slump. Massive deflationary forces have battered the
world economy since 2008. We wouldn't expect, what were in retrospect,
relatively modest asset purchases to radically unmoor inflation
expectations in this context.
broader critique. The Fed is acting as though it gets credibility from
its target itself, rather than from hitting its target. The Fed won't lose credibility if it changes its target. The Fed will lose credibility if it misses its target -- if it gets more (or less) inflation than it wants. If the Fed says
it wants four-percent inflation and gets it, that's no less "credible" than
if it says it wants two-percent inflation and gets it.
I'm afraid to say something else might be going on here. The Fed might be worried that it can't
get four-percent inflation if it says it wants it. This is almost
certainly not the case, but the thing about unconventional strategies is
that they are inherently uncertain. And that uncertainty seems to be
tilting the FOMC towards inaction. The logic is that it's not better to
have tried for four-percent inflation and lost than not to have tried
for four-percent inflation at all. The former risks losing credibility,
while the latter doesn't -- albeit at the cost of an economy running
well below capacity. It's what a certain Princeton professor called a
case of "self-induced paralysis" when he excoriated the Bank of Japan for a similar mindset a
decade ago. Of course, that professor was none other than Ben Bernanke,
which gives this all a tint of Greek tragedy.
Let's try a quick thought experiment. Imagine that you and a friend -- let's call him Ben -- meet up every Sunday at 2pm to workout. But then something comes up. Ben tells you that he has
to leave early the next few weeks -- unless you want to meet at 4pm instead. The obvious solution is get together later. You trust that Ben will show up at 4pm, because he's showed up at 2pm all this time.
It's the same with inflation targeting.
This probably sounds facile. It is. But that's only because the answers to our problems are facile. There's no reason to think prices will spiral out of control if the Fed targets four-percent inflation, because the Fed is credible. And it's not as if the Fed doesn't have experience targeting higher inflation. It did it in the 1980s, when it targeted ... four-percent inflation. That wasn't some inflationary nightmare. That was "Morning in America."
don't doubt that Bernanke wants to do more. I just wish he'd ditch his
soft-spoken, professorial demeanor. Get mean. Maybe practice in the
mirror. (YOU WANT THE TRUTH? YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH ABOUT HOW MUCH
INFLATION WE NEED). Whatever it takes to get him to drag the rest of the
FOMC to do more. We promise we won't think you're less credible if you
put people back to work. Just the opposite.
A new survey suggests the logistics of going to services can be the biggest barrier to participation—and Americans’ faith in religious institutions is declining.
The standard narrative of American religious decline goes something like this: A few hundred years ago, European and American intellectuals began doubting the validity of God as an explanatory mechanism for natural life. As science became a more widely accepted method for investigating and understanding the physical world, religion became a less viable way of thinking—not just about medicine and mechanics, but also culture and politics and economics and every other sphere of public life. As the United States became more secular, people slowly began drifting away from faith.
Of course, this tale is not just reductive—it’s arguably inaccurate, in that it seems to capture neither the reasons nor the reality behind contemporary American belief. For one thing, the U.S. is still overwhelmingly religious, despite years of predictions about religion’s demise. A significant number of people who don’t identify with any particular faith group still say they believe in God, and roughly 40 percent pray daily or weekly. While there have been changes in this kind of private belief and practice, the most significant shift has been in the way people publicly practice their faith: Americans, and particularly young Americans, are less likely to attend services or identify with a religious group than they have at any time in recent memory.
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Like much of America—and I’m betting most of the many hundreds of kids I have seen swimming in pools around the nation, too—I was glued to the Olympic swimming events. Katie Ledecky, Maya DiRado, Michael Phelps, truth-teller Lilly King. And then, enter Ryan Lochte.
A hotly contested, supposedly ancient manuscript suggests Christ was married. But believing its origin story—a real-life Da Vinci Code, involving a Harvard professor, a onetime Florida pornographer, and an escape from East Germany—requires a big leap of faith.
On a humid afternoon this past November, I pulled off Interstate 75 into a stretch of Florida pine forest tangled with runaway vines. My GPS was homing in on the house of a man I thought might hold the master key to one of the strangest scholarly mysteries in recent decades: a 1,300-year-old scrap of papyrus that bore the phrase “Jesus said to them, My wife.” The fragment, written in the ancient language of Coptic, had set off shock waves when an eminent Harvard historian of early Christianity, Karen L. King, presented it in September 2012 at a conference in Rome.
Never before had an ancient manuscript alluded to Jesus’s being married. The papyrus’s lines were incomplete, but they seemed to describe a dialogue between Jesus and the apostles over whether his “wife”—possibly Mary Magdalene—was “worthy” of discipleship. Its main point, King argued, was that “women who are wives and mothers can be Jesus’s disciples.” She thought the passage likely figured into ancient debates over whether “marriage or celibacy [was] the ideal mode of Christian life” and, ultimately, whether a person could be both sexual and holy.
Polling within the margin of error among African Americans, the Republican tries new outreach—but his approach seems doomed to failure.
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Our government has totally failed our African American friends, our Hispanic friends and the people of our country. Period. The Democrats have failed completely in the inner cities. For those hurting the most who have been failed and failed by their politicians—year after year, failure after failure, worse numbers after worse numbers. Poverty. Rejection. Horrible education. No housing, no homes, no ownership. Crime at levels that nobody has seen. You can go to war zones in countries that we are fighting and it's safer than living in some of our inner cities that are run by the Democrats. And I ask you this, I ask you this—crime, all of the problems—to the African Americans, who I employ so many, so many people, to the Hispanics, tremendous people: What the hell do you have to lose? Give me a chance. I'll straighten it out. I'll straighten it out. What do you have to lose?
Chain restaurants, which for so long used their decorations to celebrate America’s past, are now focusing on a (clutter-free) future.
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In that, Fridays’ is going to be looking a lot like … Applebee’s, which recently announced a similar update to its front-of-the-house situation. And Chili’s. And Ruby Tuesday. And Olive Garden. And also like fast-food chains, which are, like their up-market competitors, embracing the strategically pared-down style that you might call “high meh-dern”: McDonald’s recently unveiled a series of new “design concepts” for its stores, all of them replacing the chain’s signature primary-colored formica with, yep ... blond wood, clean lines, and bright-but-soft lighting. Burger King has been giving its restaurants similar facelifts. So has Wendy’s. And Arby’s. And KFC. And Taco Bell.
Two decades ago, Osama bin Laden officially launched al-Qaeda’s struggle against the United States. Neither side has won.
Exactly two decades ago, on August 23, 1996, Osama bin Laden declared war on the United States. At the time, few people paid much attention. But it was the start of what’s now the Twenty Years’ War between the United States and al-Qaeda—a conflict that both sides have ultimately lost.
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Frank Ocean is still thinking about forever. One of his two new albums is called Endless, even though its songs all seem to end too soon. The more significant release, called either Blonde or Blond depending on where you acquire it, repeatedly laments nights, season, and years that can never be retrieved. The first time his unadorned vocals appear on that album, Ocean sings, “We'll let you guys prophesy / We gon' see the future first.” The line comes across as a challenge to get on his level and unhitch from the present—a necessary step before accessing the deep pleasures of his uncompromising new music.
Ocean’s obsession with time has been well-documented by now. His 2011 debut had the self-explanatory title Nostalgia, Ultra and his 2012 breakout, Channel Orange, was inspired by a teenage summer that, he said, seemed “orange.” He’s like the memory machine in Pixar’s Inside Out, processing the past into gemlike objects that can be sorted by visual cue and emotional essence. The blonds and blondes of Blond(e) are, on one level of interpretation, ex-boyfriends and ex-girlfriends. He references car models—Acuras, Ferraris, X6s—as shorthand for life phases. And on the luminous new track “Ivy,” he describes a callous breakup but keeps saying that when he thinks about the relationship, “the feeling still deep down is good.” Good: one simple word explains and colors all the complexity he’s sung about elsewhere in the song.
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Bad holidays with a spouse can start to feel like a broken promise.
Many people hate swampy, sticky August, but to some, it’s an especially bitter time. A new working paper finds that, in addition to March, August is the month in which divorce filings peak.
For the paper, the University of Washington’s Brian Serafini and Julie Brines analyzed the 15 most recent years of divorce filings in Washington, a state whose records make it easy to collect divorce data. Here’s what they found:
Divorce Filings by Month
These results are yet to be peer reviewed, but they are buffeted by some nation-wide, anecdotal evidence. Online searches for “divorce” and “child custody” surge early in the year, peaking in March, they point out.
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