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An insidious contribution of currency devaluation is the destruction of work
habits. This was true in the 1970s; it is obvious today. In the disco decade,
the belief that currency devaluation would improve America's industrial economy
proved false. The Heartland reinvented itself as the Rust Belt and Americans
found other ways to earn a living -- they traded houses.
An up-and-coming economist observed this transition as both chairman of the
Council of Economic Advisers and as consultant to the good and the great. He
despaired at the unwinding of industrial America. Thirty years later, as Federal
Reserve chairman, the former consulting economist boosted the economy out of
recession just as it had rebounded in the '70s -- by whipping America into
a consumer-spending, credit-crazy, house-buying frenzy.
The United States defaulted on its gold commitment in August 1971. The U.S.
devalued the dollar by about 9% against major currencies in December of the
same year. After negotiating the pact (the Smithsonian Agreement) in December
1971, Richard Nixon claimed this was "the most significant monetary agreement
in the history of the world." The U.S. trade deficit soon doubled.
This was not supposed to happen, so the economists decided to try it again.
The dollar was devalued another 10% in February 1973. Treasury Secretary George
Schultz, former dean of the University of Chicago Graduate School of Business
and a former student of Milton Friedman, marketed the new devaluation by declaring, "There
can be no doubt we have achieved a major improvement in the competitiveness
of American business." This time it worked -- until 1977, when the trade deficit
collapsed.
Time magazine, in the same issue in which it quoted Schultz, discussed
the mental distractions heaped on the American people. The money markets had
witnessed a chaotic series of "devaluations, revaluations and [currency] floats
[that had] been coming with dizzying rapidity." Students of Weimar Germany,
Argentina, and Zimbabwe will have, by now, identified the real culprit: inflation.
Whether it is in assets or goods, too much money causes upheaval.
To ensure disorientation would turn to panic, the government instituted price
controls on materials ranging from oil to beef; hence, the country suffered
shortages of materials from oil to beef. It rationed gasoline. This left commuters
idling in lines that circled the streets around gas stations. To heighten the
confusion, the government legislated an 11% tax on foreign security purchases
and limited the amount of dollars U.S. corporations could send abroad to build
factories. This last was a worthless gesture.
Living costs rose at an annual rate of 8.8% in the first quarter of 1973.
This report prompted AFL-CIO chief George Meany to announce: "In his Inaugural
Address in January, [President Nixon] advised Americans to help themselves.
It is obvious that this is what unions are going to be forced to do at the
bargaining table." One suspects this was not the spirit in which the president's
advice was intended, but it is difficult to fault Meany, even though successful
negotiations by steelworkers, autoworkers, and airline mechanics were to fell
these industries to minor league status. As Meany must have known -- and Time reported: "Manufacturers
decided long ago to serve foreign markets by building plants overseas, rather
than by exporting. The multinational corporations will profit from devaluation." The
costs of production, since the mid-1950s, had been pricing heavy industry out
of the market.
Time magazine employed a board of economists. The long articles that
surveyed the members' opinions and solutions were generally a waste of time
to read. Instead, an anonymous Time reporter not only understood the
problem that has plagued the U.S. for the past half century, but was able to
write it in one sentence: "The root cause of dollar weakness is that ever since
the early 1950s, the U.S. has been living beyond its means in the world."
We were only three years into the '70s and all of the government initiatives
-- the gold default, wage controls, price controls, restricting and taxing
investments, currency devaluation -- had failed. Alas, this was just the beginning.
Wage increases chased inflation and bond yields soared, as did the unemployment
rate, real wages, and the number of imported automobiles, television sets,
and radios.
Very few understood what to do with their money. The Dow Jones industrial
average had peaked on Jan. 11, 1973, at 1,051. On Dec. 12, 1974, it bottomed
at 571, a loss of 46%. Consumer prices rose 21% over the same period. Losses
to investors were over 60%. Bond prices collapsed, money market funds were
getting their feet wet and returns on bank savings accounts lagged the rising
cost of milk and gasoline.
Over the decade, Honda and Volkswagen beat General Motors on its own turf.
The age-old truism of saving a portion of ones' salary had also been kicked
in the teeth, as had the older generation that counted upon its savings for
retirement.
The young and clever were better able to adapt. Eugene Sussman, a jewelry
manufacturer in Cedarhurst, N.Y., worried that as the price of gold and diamonds
increased his sales would flag. Instead, every time he raised prices, sales
flourished. Sussman observed: "I'm talking about average working girls. I see
them on the street, wearing my jewelry. They're making $250 or $300 a week
and they're spending it on jewelry. They have to have it. It's like food." They
made the simple calculation that it was better to get rid of their dollars
as quickly as they received them, buy what was rising in price, and then sell
it to catch the next rising wave. The more nimble were borrowing as much as
possible to do so. In other words, the working girls were running their own
hedge funds; they merely lacked a business card that identified their real
job.
The destruction of work habits did not mean Americans worked less, but what
constituted work changed (e.g., the working girls). With manufacturing in decline,
Americans of all ages found alternative sources of income. Mortgage rates doubled,
yet residential real estate boomed. Again, it paid to borrow depreciating dollars
and leverage one's investment. To the common man, this opportunity best presents
itself in real estate.
This unexpected deliverance to the mortgage industry was a prelude to the
phenomenon seen 30 years later on a much grander scale. From 1975-1980, home
prices in Newport Beach, Calif., doubled. In California as a whole, prices
rose 20% in 1974, 17% in 1975, and 28% in 1976. In the words of William Greider: "People
were not buying homes to live in or even as long-term investments. They were
buying homes in order to sell them."
The anecdotes of the late-'70s have a familiar sound. The developer of a Contra
Costa County development found that 60% of his sales were to speculators. A
condominium bought for $87,000 in Irvine Ranch was sold two weeks later for
$117,000 -- two weeks before the mortgage closing was completed; homes were
being advertised for resale that had not been built yet. In Orlando, Fla.,
a property was bought for $285,000, sold four weeks later for $375,000, and
a week after that for $525,000.
Irvine, Calif... Florida... Even the epicenters are the same.
As manufacturing declined, the financial industries boomed. In 1972, membership
of the National Association of Realtors first passed 100,000. This union of
brokers crossed 435,000 in 1975 (which included a merger with independent salespeople).
By 1979, 761,000 Americans were selling houses. The number of realtors in San
Diego doubled between 1975-1979.
The housing market was a national obsession by 1979. House prices had risen
8% or more every year since 1970. Prices were up 17.7% in the first nine months
of 1979 -- from $50,200 to $57,200. Sen. Harrison A. Williams Jr., Democrat
from New Jersey, called a crash in housing prices "not inconceivable," noting
that a 30-year $60,000 mortgage that cost $480 per month when interest rates
were 9% now cost $711 per month, with interest rates at 14%. Between 1975-1978,
home mortgage debt rose by $258 billion -- from $479 billion to $737 billion
-- a 53% rise. Consumer borrowing rose by 60% during the same period. (The
aftermath to the borrowing binge produced casualties but was mitigated by interest
rates that collapsed in the 1980s and the responsible behavior of bankers who
held home loans on their balance sheets.)
This was no way to run an economy, although it would be the rare economist
who would say so. It is a remarkable epiphany to read accounts during earlier
decades and discover the average newspaper or magazine reporter was a far better
source of common sense than the pedigreed economists who run economics departments
at Ivy League universities today. U.S. News and World Report sounded
the alarm in 1978: "The mountain of debt has grown so high in this country
that many economists fear the United States is unusually vulnerable if a recession
occurs...some fret that a load of personal debt will make a recession more
severe than it otherwise would be." In the same year, Henry Scott Stokes of The
New York Times expressed a skeptical view of the current economic expansion: "Typically,
in an economic recovery of the kind the United States has experienced since
early 1975, capital investment leads the way. But the surge in the American
economy has been largely brought about by consumer spending, while investment
has only risen by half its normal speed." Scott Stokes went on to emphasize
that capital spending "is easily snuffed out" during inflationary periods: "This
has been the case in the post-1975 recession phase during which investment
in such bedrock industries as steel and chemicals has been very slow...In the
past two years, many big companies preferred quite simply to buy existing companies,
rather than investing in new factories and equipment."
Scott Stokes' analysis is noteworthy for the precision with which he identified
the central problem. Building and trading houses does not contribute to the
long-term benefit of the economy, but does quite the opposite. It channels
investment dollars and savings away from the steel and chemical plants necessary
to compete with Toyota. Most any discussion of a healthy American economy today
puts consumer spending in the forefront.
In 1979, Alan Greenspan stepped in for the vacationing Leonard Silk and wrote
the Times' "Economic Scene" column. He waxed nostalgic about the "halcyon
days of the 1950s and 1960s," when "business investment decisions seemed appropriately
focused on longer-term payoffs." But now, "it is not surprising that in recent
years, business capital investments have become increasingly concentrated in
assets with quick cash payoffs." Greenspan calculated that currently, "expansion
of manufacturing capacity has fallen short of the pattern in earlier business
cycles." He thought, "more ominous" was the "shift in research and development
budgets towards quick-payoff 'development' projects."
Greenspan would return to this same worry many times before his selection
as Federal Reserve chairman. Given his understanding of what makes an economy
strong, it is natural that he knew what destroys an economy. He told The
New York Times in 1978, "People no longer think a mortgage is just something
to take out to buy a home. It can be a means of cashing in your gains." Two
years later, with time to think this evaluation over, Greenspan had not changed
his view one bit. He told the Times "that the translation of home-ownership
equity into cash available for consumer spending is perhaps the most significant
reason why the economy in 1975-1978 was consistently stronger than expected." In
other words, the house-trading public prevented recession by spending its housing
gains in the consumer economy.
In the decades ahead, price inflation would fall, but never disappear. Americans
would never again save as they had. Corporations would never revert to long-term
capital commitments at home. Borrowing looked ominous to U.S. News in
1978. Once Paul Volcker loosened the reins on money in the 1980s, credit expanded
at an ever-faster pace than production. Corporate attention spans grew shorter
as stock option compensation changed senior management into free agents. The
longer-term payoffs of which Greenspan spoke did not fit into the new quarterly
earnings obsession.
Federal Reserve Chairman Alan Greenspan would remember how the American people
had traded houses and borrowed to spur the recovery of 1975-1978. As manufacturing
jobs in the U.S. fell from 17 million in 2001 to 14 million in 2004, he would
watch as approximately 60% of all new non-government jobs created during those
years were in the construction and mortgage industry. Total mortgage credit
rose 53% from the beginning of 1998 to midyear 2002, the same percentage as
the 1975-1978 period discussed above. The volume for this four-plus-year boom,
though, was $2.8 trillion, about 10 times that of the mid-'70s.
All this before the floodgates opened. In June 2003, the Federal Reserve cut
the funds rate to 1.0%, and the 10-year Treasury yield hit a generational low
of 3.13%. The house building, mortgage financing, refinancing, and equity cashout
markets responded with a fury. Fannie Mae announced in June that it was operating
at a pace to originate $3.7 trillion of mortgages for the year; Countrywide
Financial was poised to pass Fannie with a prediction of $3.5-4 trillion originations
in 2003. This in a $10 trillion economy.
On July 15, 2003, the Federal Reserve chairman testified before Congress.
Given his rock-solid belief that long-term investment was the road to recovery,
we might have expected Greenspan to share his worries with Congress. Instead,
he assured legislators that "The prospects for a resumption of strong economic
growth have been enhanced by steps taken in the private sector over the past
couple of years to restructure and strengthen balance sheets...Nowhere has
this process of balance sheet adjustment been more evident than in the household
sector...lower interest rates have facilitated a restructuring of the existing
debt."
Yes, but there was so much more of it. Three years after the last investment
bubble, he was gunning another one. Greenspan then completely turned reason
on its head by not only stating that long-term investment in production is
unnecessary, but that the American economy did not need to make anything at
all. In the convert's words: "Is it important for an economy to have manufacturing...I
think you can argue it does not really matter whether or not you produce [manufactured
goods]."
The man knew better. Those in positions of influence who could have announced
the emperor wore no clothes decided to remain silent. Now we're paying the
price.
Regards,
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