Economics more than ever is a business for specialists.
So when a generalist presents himself as ready to express opinions
on a broad array of topics, prepared to skirmish regularly
with those who hold opposing points of view, we sit up and take
notice.
Everybody knows (at least a little) about Paul
Krugman, the Princeton University professor who as taken up residence
as a columnist twice weekly on the op-ed page of the New York
Times -- a complicated case indeed.
Two more economists, Joseph Stiglitz and Reuven
Brenner, recently have entered this lofty realm, aided by the
appearance of new books.
You might as well get to know them now. They'll
be around for many years to come. They come from opposite ends
of the profession. And they take quite disparate views of the
process of globalization.
Consider Stiglitz first. He was celebrated last
fall as co-winner of the Nobel Award in Economics, sharing the
glory with George Akerlof of the University of California at Berkeley
and A. Michael Spence of Stanford University.
The citation mentioned their having rendered tractable
the problem of asymmetric information, meaning those ubiquitous
situations in which one party to a transaction knows something
the other doesn't. At last Stiglitz was famous. His photo was
in all the papers.
But within the profession, Stiglitz had enjoyed
a reputation as being among the smartest economists of his generation
ever since he showed up for graduate school in 1964 at the Massachusetts
Institute of Technology. His strength turned out to be a knack
for clarity, coupled with a powerful economic intuition.
For many years, Stiglitz was a consummate insider.
First at Yale University, then at Oxford, Princeton and Stanford,
he contributed a steady stream of technical papers to the literature
of labor-, health- and macroeconomics, contributing to what today
is sometimes called the Market Failure Theory of government action.
Many of those papers described tight mathematical
models of economic processes, including (with Avinash Dixit) a
representation of markets for differentiated goods that turned
out to be useful in many fields for analyzing the kind of market
failure known as monopolistic competition. (Plans to publish Stiglitz'
collected papers are said to call for 26 volumes!)
By the mid-70s, he became a leader of a coterie
of economists known as "New Keynesians," of whom it
was said (by their critics) that they never encountered a market
whose performance they didn't think they could improve by intervention,
early and often. In the '80s, he wrote a well-received introductory
textbook.
And then, in 1993, he agreed to go to Washington
to serve as a member of President Clinton's Council of Economic
Advisers, then as chairman, finally as chief economist of the
World Bank.
It was in that capacity that Stiglitz began to
become better know to the public. Tentatively at first, then more
insistently, he became a critic of the International Monetary
Fund's handling of Asian currency crisis. Like the World Bank,
the IMF was founded at the end of the Second World War to smooth
the processes of global development. The Bank would supply capital
to the poorer nations and the Fund would supply liquidity when
needed.
Stiglitz charged that the IMF had become overzealous
in assuring that commercial banks be repaid, He asserted that
it cared more for the stability of the lending system than for
businesses in Third World countries that were forced to shut their
doors. Though it was somewhat muted while he remained in office,
the dissent was widely noted. And after he left office, he turned
up the volume.
Stiglitz moved to Columbia University and wrote
"Globalization and its Discontents," published earlier
this summer. It is a fascinating book, full of glimpses into ordinarily
impenetrable bureaucracy that is the IMF, and bristling with sensitivity
to the Might-Have-Been.
Capitalism is at a crossroads today, Stiglitz says,
just as it was during the Great Depression. Only a determined
effort to ease up on the preaching the gospel of open capital
markets can avert a massive backlash.
(At one point, Stiglitz adopts an unusually personal
tone. He attacks Stanley Fischer, who had served as a top official
of the IMF during the crisis before taking a very senior job with
Citibank. "One could only ask, Was Fischer being richly rewarded
for having faithfully executed what he was told to do?'
(The criticism backfired for at least two reasons.
For one thing; Citicorp has a long history -- in the person of
William Rhodes -- of employing debt negotiators who were fundamentally
sympathetic to the problems of the developing world. For another,
Stan Fischer had been the foremost macroeconomist in the foremost
economics department in the world, MIT, for twenty years before
he went to Washington to join the IMF. Having been born in Rhodesia,
his commitment to fairness was unquestioned.
In all likelihood, before long Stiglitz will collect
the other great honor that technical economics has to offer --
the presidency of the American Economic Association. But the single
thing he may have wanted most has eluded his grasp -- the job
Fischer held for all those years at MIT. Rivalry may have clouded
Stiglitz' judgment.)
Reuven Brenner, on the other hand, can expect no
such honors. His claim on our attention is his originality. In
a series of books -- "History -- The Human Gamble" (1983),
"Betting on Ideas" (1985), "Rivalry" (1987)
and "Labyrinths of Prosperity" (1994), Brenner set forth
a vision of how a concern for relative position among individuals
dominates economic processes and gives rise to behaviors ranging
from entrepreneurship to gambling to crime.
His arguments were not carefully defended in the
ordinary manner of technical economics -- "to play the academic
game was never my goal," he says. When the Royal Society
of Canada made him a member, the citation mentioned his preference
for "topics bigger than those with which most economists
are comfortable."
But there is something in Brenner's iconoclastic
approach that resonates with practical persons around the world.
He was raised in communist Rumania until he was 15, so he comes
naturally to the Government Failure Theory of market action. He
served for three years in the Israeli Army, including the Six
Days War, then briefly again during the Yom Kippur War, so he
isn't a government-hater.
And his PhD at Hebrew University -- work on index
numbers for currency transactions for the Israeli central bank
-- was practical enough that he can claim never to have worked
in anything other that applied economics. He consults extensively
to businesses today.
Yet he is sufficiently well trained and confident
to be able to slug it out with the best academically trained economists
-- including Stiglitz. Brenner holds the Repap Chair of Business
at McGill University in Montreal.
His new book -- "The Forces of Finance"
-- is not his best. It's a collection of essays, speeches and
pensees, loosely stapled together. But he consistently
takes a view of globalization that is more or less the opposite
from that of Joe Stiglitz -- and often highly stimulating.
According to Brenner, prosperity is the consequence
of one thing and one thing only, he writes: "matching talent
with capital, and holding both sides accountable." When capital
markets are open, he says, "so-called angels, venture capitalists,
banks, investment banks, leveraged buy-out firms and asset-management
firms make these matches, betting on the visions of entrepreneurs
and managers" and keeping their feet to the fire.
When capital markets are closed, he says, governments,
family members and criminal elements decide on the matches, with
considerably less salubrious results. There is a role for governments
in keeping capital markets functioning smoothly, but it is easily
subverted. Initiatives, referenda and other forms of "direct
democracy" offer the best hope of keeping government in check,
he says.
It's been some time since business folk had an
advocate who "spoke to their condition." Perhaps Milton
Friedman was the last effective popular champion, and it had been
twenty years since he was regularly in the lists. Brenner is not
Friedman's class, but he is a welcome addition to the ranks of
eminent skirmishers, Left and Right.
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