Converting the Preachers

"Large swaths of economics are going to have to be rethought on the basis of what's happened." So said Larry Summers, President Obama's chief economic adviser, in an interview in the weeks after the markets crashed a year ago. Yet to a remarkable degree, economic thinking hasn't changed very much at all. (Click here to follow Michael Hirsh).

Now financier George Soros is announcing a $50 million effort to speed things along. This week Soros is gathering some of the leading practitioners of the market-skeptic school, who were marginalized during the era of "free-market fundamentalism," among them Nobelists Joseph Stiglitz, George Akerlof, Michael Spence, and Sir James Mirrlees. He's also creating an "Institute for New Economic Thinking" to make research grants, convene symposiums, and establish a journal, all in an effort to take back the economics profession from the champions of free-market zealotry who have dominated it for decades, and to correct the failures of decades of market deregulation. Soros hopes matching funds will bring the total endowment up to $200 million. "Economics has failed not only to predict and explain what happened but has also failed to protect society," says Robert Johnson, a former managing director at Soros Fund Management, who will direct the new institute. "That's what the crisis revealed. The paradigm has failed. There is no guidance."

It might be tempting to dismiss all this as a war of words among brainiacs. It's not. The critical issues being discussed in Washington about the future regulation and control of the financial industry—the very nature of Wall Street and the health of the economy—depend on this battle of ideas. What led to wholesale deregulation in the '90s and '00s wasn't just Wall Street lobbying money. It was also that key legislators and policymakers, among them Larry Summers, persuaded themselves that deregulation was sound economics and good policy, and that markets and Wall Street institutions could take care of themselves. Many of those views have been discredited by the crisis. But in the absence of a new paradigm of economics, confusion still reigns in Washington. With no new concept of the proper role of government and regulation in the economy, of the proper balance between the markets and their minders, the old school still dominates.

And almost by default, the profession and many of its leading journals remain controlled by free-market thinking out of the University of Chicago, Stanford, MIT, and other institutions, Soros, Johnson, and others argue. Free-market thinking also dominates the debate on everything from the "too big to fail" problem to health care. And some of the economists whose work was most prescient, and most ignored, remain marginalized.

Exhibit No. 1: the late Hyman Minsky, a bushy-haired dissident at the University of California, Berkeley, and Washington University who saw into the heart of financial-market mania perhaps more deeply than anyone else. Minsky's "Financial Instability Hypothesis," which he developed in the '60s, held that success in financial markets always breeds its own instability. The longer a boom lasts, the less market players consider failure a possibility; as a result, careful borrowing, lending, and investment inevitably give way to recklessness and speculative euphoria. Margins and capital cushions come to be seen as unnecessary. At a certain watershed point—sometimes called a "Minsky moment"—the foreordained collapse begins. The most speculative bets crash, loans are called in, asset values plunge, and the downward spiral feeds on itself. That's what happened over the last two years.

Minsky was in effect filling in many of the intellectual blanks left by John Maynard Keynes on the critical question of how financial markets affect the "real" economy. Nonetheless, an assessment of Minsky in 1997, a year after he died, concluded that his "work has not had a major influence in the macroeconomic discussions of the last thirty years." Since the current crash, Minsky has been rediscovered by economic pundits, and now a few economists are struggling to turn his insights into a model of how the economy really works.