Showing posts with label rate of profit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rate of profit. Show all posts

Friday, 26 August 2016

Rate of Profit, Rate of Interest


The rate of profit and the rate of interest are at the core of capitalism’s dynamic, but there is a huge amount of confusion in what is written on these matters. This article aims to clarify some key points. I outline the relevant aspects of some theories of profit and interest, but focus on how to understand profit and interest rates from the perspective of a Marxist understanding of capitalism. Underlying these abstract concepts are the realities of class and power in the world economy.

Rate of profit calculations
Profitability is obviously important for capitalism. Paying attention to the rate of profit, not just the amount, also makes sense, since this gives the amount of profit per unit of capital advanced, and the more the better. But this simple point hides two important complications.
Firstly, the calculation must be timed. Commonly, calculations are for the rate of profit per year, so that the amount of profit in a year is measured against how much capital is advanced at any one time to achieve it. Other things equal, this also means that the shorter the time period between advancing the money capital, buying the necessary means of production, producing and then selling the commodities at a profit, the greater will be the rate of profit per year. This can make shortening the buying/selling process also appear to be a source of value and profit, not just the production process itself. A quicker method of buying/selling will speed up the circulation process for the producer, raise the amount and rate of profit per year and allow a greater profit to be shared between the producers and the commercial capitalists who are more involved in this process.
Secondly, the rate of profit will be affected by how much of the capital advanced is from the company’s owners and how much is borrowed from banks or other money capitalists providing it with extra investment funds. If we assume a given, annual rate of profit of 10% for the company, then the return on its total investment will also be 10%. But if it has borrowed half its investment funds from banks at a rate of just 5%, or issued bonds with a yield of 5%, then the rate of profit on the funds that the company’s owners have advanced will be higher. For example, for 200 invested at 10%, the annual return is 20. But if the company’s owners have invested only 100 of their own money plus an extra 100 they have borrowed, the company then gets as its profit the 20 total minus the 5 it needs to pay on its borrowings, etc. The result is that its rate of return will be higher: 15 (20 – 5) over the 100 invested, or 15%.
This extra profitability depends on the rate of interest paid on the borrowings being lower than the underlying rate of profit on the total investment. That is not always the case, but it shows how profitability calculations for capitalist owners will tend to change when borrowing funds is taken into account.
What rate?
A company’s borrowed funds raise an ambiguity, one that has not been dealt with well by Marxist theory. If the money is borrowed via bond issues or bank loans, then the payment for the borrowing falls under the heading of interest, so the previous calculation will hold. But if the extra funds come from new money advanced by money capitalists buying any new equity the company issues on the stock market, then how should these extra funds be treated and what is the form taken by the deduction from profits?
If the money capitalists have put their funds into the company’s new equity issue, or even just bought previously issued equity from others, then they own part of the company, just as much as the original owners. To that extent, they will receive a share of the profits in the form of dividends on the equity they own, just like the others. However, there are some distinctions to take into account.
As newer entrants, unless the new equity buyers become big shareholders, they will have fewer claims on the company’s resources through the large salaries they might otherwise get by becoming executives and directors, with special bonuses or other payments. Small-scale equity owners also have little voting power in company decisions, and some of the equity sold and bought may even be devoid of voting rights on these decisions. Insofar as they are in this latter camp, the equity dividends for them are not so different from the interest payments on the company’s bond or bank loan borrowings. But they are still in a different economic situation from bond holders or bank lenders. They benefit from any rise in the price of the equity, and may suffer a loss from a collapse of equity prices. They have none of the usual debt holder or bank lender protection of being first in line for payments, if the company gets in trouble, and their dividends might be zero or very high, while interest and coupon payments are determined at a market level or fixed in advance.
Aside from any possible director benefits, the return on equity for the companies’ owners can be taken to be not only the dividends paid on the value of the equities purchased, but also on the change in the price of the equity itself. So, holding a company’s equity that pays zero dividends may be better than holding one with high dividends, if its equity price has risen far enough above the investor’s purchase price. For example, buying shares in a company at 100 and receiving no dividend for two years will be disappointing for money capitalists. But the outcome will nevertheless look attractive if the company’s share price rises to 150 over those two years, because a large capital gain has been made.
This is accentuated further by the way in which all equity prices (and, indeed, bond prices) tend to rise as interest rates fall, and vice versa, due to the lower, or higher, rates of discount on future earnings by money capitalists. Such calculations show how far capitalist views on what it a profitable investment can become divorced from a measure of the company’s actual return on capital or its underlying profitability.
Company reports usually standardise data with annual rates of profit, and also distinguish the profit due to shareholders after interest on borrowings and other special factors. These commonly lead to different rankings of companies, not necessarily only by their reported profits, but also, especially in recent decades, by the volatility of the returns they get. Extra borrowing usually leads to extra volatility of returns. These are other factors that influence the choices made by money capitalists, and thus the allocation of capital, but they do nothing to change the actual profits produced.

Rate of interest
At first sight, the rate of interest is more easily observable than the rate of profit on industrial or commercial investment. After all, the central bank’s key interest rates are published daily or intra-day, as are the yields on 3-month Treasury bills, 5-year or 10-year government bonds or rated corporate bonds. Nothing similar really happens for measures of company rates of profit. While there are many rates of interest – interbank borrowing rates, government Treasury bill or bond yields, corporate bond yields, borrowing rates for consumer loans or mortgages, etc – they are publicly observable in ways that a rate of profit on corporate investments is not.
How is this problem of many rates of interest dealt with in economic theory? Mostly, not at all. Instead, a sacred ‘rate of interest’ is often used in mainstream economic theory, with few, or no questions asked as to what kind of interest rate is meant. Financial theory may, for practical calculations, distinguish a corporate bond yield or government-borrowing yield, in order to determine the relevant price of a financial security, but there will be no serious investigation as to why this is at a particular level and not at any other. Instead, tautological assessments of ‘risk’ are offered, which make the banal observation that a more risky investment will probably have to offer a higher interest yield. But this does little to get around the problem that much mainstream financial theory, especially for financial derivatives, is based on the idea of there being, at bottom, a ‘risk-free’ interest rate, one that exhibits a zero, or negligible credit risk of not getting repaid by the borrower.
What rate is ‘risk free’? Usually this is assumed to be a government security yield, ignoring the inconvenient fact that governments have also been known not to repay in full. In the case of the US government’s security yields, the nec plus ultra of ‘risk free’ in financial theory, it is conveniently ignored that on several occasions the US government has run close defaulting on its debt repayments, owing to political turmoil in Congress. How far government yields can be seen as objective arbiters of the rate on ‘risk free’ debt is also questioned by a significant bias lower for this rate, especially in financial markets dominated by the major powers. Structural demand for the key government securities, from the domestic banking system, from international investor demand for the global currency security, and sometimes from their taxation policies (for example, exempting capital gains from tax), produces lower yields than would otherwise be the case.
The upshot is that ‘the’ rate of interest is as nebulous as ‘the’ rate of profit. Both sets of rates are determined in a chaotic capitalist market. Are there any laws determining these?

Relationships between interest and profit rates
A common view in mainstream economic theory is that the rate of profit and the rate of interest are either the same, or tend to equality over time. The logic is straightforward, but this logic also highlights the deficiencies of the argument. It is an example of the errors that arise when a focus on appearances is allowed to obscure the underlying processes of the capitalist economy. This happens when the social content of the relationship is ignored, with little attention paid to what the terms in an equation actually mean.
To illustrate this point, and even to make a mild concession to the argument, cast aside the messy reality that there are many rates of profit and many rates of interest, determined by all kinds of market pressures. Instead, assume that there is, in fact, one capitalist market rate of profit (r), available to industrial and commercial capitalists, and one market rate of interest (i) available to those putting funds into banks, buying bonds, etc. The basic case made by modern economics is that there is a tendency for r to equal i.
The rationale for this view is usually given from the perspective of the money capitalist. Let us call him (it is rarely her) Moneybags, and imagine him just sitting there with $1m in cash to play with. So what does Moneybags do with the cash when viewing the opportunities available?
            if i > r, just lend money in the market rather than invest directly in production
            if i < r, then invest in production rather than lend on the money markets
The actions of Moneybags supposedly tend to equalise the two rates, by investing or lending. How? The logic is rarely spelled out, but the mechanism assumed is as follows. If the rate of interest is above the rate of profit, the effect of offering more funds into the money market will tend to depress the rate of interest on loans towards the (lower) rate of profit. Alternatively, if Moneybags invested more in the higher rate of profit available on capitalist production, then that would tend to decrease the rate of profit on that activity towards the (lower) rate of interest on loans. Abracadabra, in a free market the rate of interest will therefore tend to equality with the rate of profit!
There is so much wrong with this argument, despite it often being taken as self-evident, or at least plausible. The problems can be seen in several steps.

Investment and ‘interest’
A money capitalist investor with funds of M can put them into a bank deposit, equity or bond investment, try to start up a business, or invest in someone else’s business. Assuming the investor is attracted by the relative yields, then this looks like a mechanism for equalising r and i, and the previous argument would hold.
However, that assumes there are diminishing returns on the M invested in industry and commerce, or in ‘financial’ ways, so that the flow of M into the different applications of funds will equalise the returns on the funds in each case. Rates of return may not initially move lower when M is applied a number of times to a particular type of investment, but eventually the extra supply of commodities produced, or of funds into an investment area, should presumably lower prices and reduce the rate of profit and also, in the alternate case, the interest return. Yet this seemingly valid logic ignores the nature of the investment that produces the return.
In one case, it is an advance of M to invest in means of production and labour-power to get a surplus value that results in a corresponding rate of profit. In the other case, it is an advance of M on the money markets, into bonds, etc, to get back a value of M plus interest. In the first case, the M may be advanced to expand the circuit of production. This could even raise the rate of profit if it boosted the productivity of a company versus its competitors, although, taken for the economy as a whole and over a period of time, probably not. The real problem for this proposed mechanism occurs for the advance of M for the ‘financial’ investment.
Moneybags wants to get back the invested funds, M, plus interest. But is Moneybags literally a bag of money hovering in the air, having no costs of investment that need to be deducted from the interest received? Also, what if Moneybags also borrows money from others to help fund the investment? Then the net investment return will depend on the difference between the borrowing and lending interest rates, as well as the deduction of his relevant costs. This means that the ‘rate of interest’, seen as a return on money capital advanced, is not as straightforward for Moneybags as the economists’ assertion of the letter i for interest would suggest.
Neither is the ‘r’ for the profit rate unambiguous. Industrial and commercial companies will borrow funds for investment as well as using their own funds. This means that their net profit is reduced by their interest payments; to give what Marx called the ‘profit of enterprise’. This latter profit is best measured over the money advanced by the industrial and commercial capitalists to get their ‘rate of profit’, but that will generally be a different number from the rate of return on the investment as a whole, as explained earlier.
The industrial and commercial capitalists will tend to borrow more, the lower is the rate of interest on borrowing versus the going rate of profit. They might also stop any extra borrowing when the rate of interest rises to equal the rate of profit that extra investment funds could generate. Yet, while that looks like a possible market mechanism for tending to equalise the rate of interest and the rate of profit, it is at best only a partial one. For example, companies would not borrow indefinitely with a lower rate of interest than the rate of profit. To do so would greatly increase their ‘leverage’ and expose them to the risk of having to service debt and pay interest even if the conditions of profitable production deteriorate. For such reasons, stockmarket investors usually frown upon highly leveraged companies.
In addition, there is the point, explained in my book, The City,[1] that the ‘profit rate’ of financial firms, such as banks who can create their own financial assets, or who depend upon attracting funds from other money capitalists and savers, such as asset managers, cannot sensibly be compared with the profit rate of industrial and commercial corporations advancing capital for their business. It is not comparing like with like.

Conclusions
In Marxist theory, there is no law determining the rate of interest, while profits are determined by the surplus value extracted from productive workers. That profit is measured over the capital invested, to determine a rate of profit for the system as a whole, and the profit remaining to the productive capitalists is determined after paying the amount of interest. [2] The only barrier to the rate of interest is that it cannot be sustained at a level that eats up all the profit of productive capital. In recent years, ‘real’ rates of interest have been negative (when compared to inflation levels), and have even been negative for some rates in nominal terms, but no statistician has so far claimed that corporate profitability has become close to zero or negative for the economy as a whole. This gives empirical support to the argument in this article that there is no equalisation of the rate of interest and rate of profit.
Developments in capitalist society mean that the 19th century picture of the industrial capitalist versus the money capitalist and, correspondingly, the rate of profit versus the rate of interest have taken on a new form today. While it is possible to identify capitalist entrepreneurs who have founded companies, from James Dyson (vacuum cleaners) to Mark Zuckerberg (Facebook), most of these have also evolved into being financial entrepreneurs, using borrowings from capital markets and financial operations to boost their market status and power. It is commonly the case that ‘entrepreneurs’ these days cannot readily be separated from ‘financiers’, given their often multiple shareholdings and other financial interests; still less can the initial investors in their projects from the financial elite be considered under the same heading as Marx’s industrial capitalists.
So there is not any longer, even if there once was in Marx’s time, a distinct class of ‘money capitalists’ versus the rest of the capitalist class. Individual capitalists will often have a portfolio of more important and less important holdings in companies, ones they pay more attention to and others, ones that are industrial, commercial or financial, together with the additional assets they hold in the form of government and corporate bonds, money market securities, bank deposits and so forth.
The activities of asset managers, insurance companies and pension funds complicate the situation further. In the rich countries, where financial operations are more prevalent, a significant proportion of the population indirectly owns a large share of corporate equity. No individual among these feels in control. Rightly so, since their monthly payments or accumulated savings are used to boost the corporate elite. But they nevertheless also benefit from and have a stake in the fortunes of the capitalist corporations in which they have invested. This has an impact on the politics of the populations concerned. But I do not cite this as the only political problem faced, since in the richer, imperialist societies the poorest will also commonly be among the most aggressive supporters of their state’s power.

Tony Norfield, 26 August 2016


[1] See here.
[2] Even this simple summary ignores the question of rent on land ownership, dealt with in the latter parts of Volume 3 of Capital. In this article, I do not cover the separate question of the tendency of the rate of profit to fall. My book, The City, discusses how measures of the rate of profit are impacted by financial developments, state intervention and, especially, by the position of a country in the world economic system.

Monday, 1 February 2016

Capitalism, Imperialism, Profit and Finance


The following notes are designed to assist anyone who has tried to analyse developments in global capitalism. Even if the reader has not, then the points made will highlight some issues that should be borne in mind when examining what is written or discussed on these topics.

1. Imperialism and world economy

Any attempt to understand things from the perspective of a national economy is bound to fail. Even the US, the world’s largest economy, can only be understood by looking at how it fits into the world economy. For example, the US dollar is world money, not just the national currency of the United States. Its importance and role depends upon the scope of US power versus other countries, both in economic and political terms. However, even the position of the dollar can be challenged by international developments. It is not an unchanging hegemony; nor has it been in place for all time. Signs that US power has limits are seen in the collapse of ‘The Project for the New American Century’ in 2006 and the political shambles of US policy in the Middle East and North Africa. However much destruction might be in US interests from a tactical perspective, it is hardly a recipe for continued hegemony.
Far less can the UK, France, Germany, China, Iran, Turkey, Brazil, etc, etc, be understood unless their positions in the world economy are taken into account. Their government and corporate policy choices are decided with this in mind. Nevertheless, a key point is that a small number of countries have a monopolistic position in the delivery of most key goods and services and, of the 200 or so countries in the world, there are only around 20 who count for anything in the hierarchy.
For this reason alone, Keynesian economic theory is useless for an analysis of the world economy (see here for a fuller discussion). Quite apart from its errors in understanding the profit-driven nature of capitalism, it focuses only on flows of income, rather the origin of that income and, at most, allows only for international trade balances. Almost always, a Keynesian approach is tied into a nationalist outlook, something that underpins so many apparently radical policies. ‘International’ Keynesianism might appear to be an exception to this, but it is a utopian technocrat’s toolbox. The OECD, or G7 meetings, might recommend changes in economic policy by different countries to benefit world economic growth, but everything still comes down to whatever is in the interests of the capitalist countries concerned.

2. Nationalism and imperialism

Attempting to ‘save’ the national economy to make things better for its inhabitants, for example, by calling for import controls or other forms of government regulation, is a reactionary policy. Firstly, it endorses the existing power of the national capitalist state to determine what will happen. Secondly, it raises national salvation above solidarity with people in other countries who are facing similar problems. This is particularly an issue for progressive people in the imperialist countries that have a dominant position in the world economy. If radicals make any concessions to those who are seeking to defend their privileges in a bankrupt system, rather than to show how the system is indeed bankrupt and must be overthrown, then they have only a short step from this to supporting imperialist aggression. The records of many wars stand in evidence.
I would possibly make one exception here. If, following a popular seizure of state power, that new government enacts policies to defend itself, then it could be seen as a legitimate, though temporary means of securing progressive gains. But if a radical in a rich country calls for such measures, while not mentioning the precondition of a popular seizure of state power before, then you know you have found an apologist for imperialism.

3. The ‘real economy’, finance and profit

There are different kinds of capitalist company and different ways in which they try to make a profit. All profit, rent or interest derives from the surplus labour performed by workers, but the process of capitalist market exchange hides this and makes it appear as if ‘making money’ in business is simply a result of special talent or, perhaps, luck, irrespective of the kind of business concerned. So, producing a good or service as a commodity in the market, buying and selling these commodities, being a real estate agent, lending money or dealing in foreign exchange, bonds and equities can all look, from a capitalist market perspective, as much the same kind of profit-making business. That view upsets common sense. So economists have come up with the notion of a ‘real economy’ of making things versus the rest of the economy, especially versus a ‘financial economy’. However, this distinction ignores both how capitalism is not bothered about making anything except profit and how all the major ‘real economy’ companies are heavily involved in the financial sphere, from stock market takeovers to financial dealings of all kinds.
The modern economy has a pervasively financial form, and the key signals for what is profitable, acceptable or viable to capitalism are transmitted through the financial markets – as reflected in a company’s share price, or a company’s or government’s ability to borrow money. This is basically a more developed form of the traditional ‘laws of supply and demand’ for the commodities a company might produce. It remains the case, nevertheless, that it is capitalist production that produces the profit that is shared, in various ways, among the different types of capitalist company.
Imperialism casts a new light on this process too. Access to funding, access to markets, the ability to use super-exploited labour, the ability to close off markets to competitors, or to use the legal system to protect property and patents, are all special privileges of the major countries, to which the weaker, poorer countries have far less recourse. This affects the profits appropriated by capitalist companies. If the analysis you read takes little or no account of it, you are reading the work of an ignoramus or, more likely, an apologist for the imperialist system.

4. Forms of profit and finance

In recent years, one area of my research was capitalist profitability, the rate of profit, etc. The more I looked into it, the trickier it got. Firstly, the available data do not necessarily measure what they claim to measure. For example, if a company registers a large profit, then that looks like what it has ‘made’, when the reality is that its profit is what its market position has enabled it to appropriate, perhaps by depending upon super-exploited labour from its suppliers, or from a monopolistic position in the world economy defended by patents and commercial laws. Secondly, even if these things were not a problem, then there is still the important question of the different ways in which different kinds of capitalist company generate their profits.
Marxist theory makes a big distinction between capitalist companies in the industrial and commercial sphere and those operating in finance. Ironically, government statistics do a similar thing, although legions of mainstream economists do not. This distinction is based upon the nature of the capitalist investment taking place. The investment by industrial and commercial capitalist (ICC) companies is different from financial investment.
ICC companies largely advance their own money, or at least do not borrow much. This is shown in their low borrowing ratios, with borrowing commonly well below the equity investment of the capitalist owners. However, advancing capital in the financial sector is a very different matter, one that has been poorly covered, or understood, by Marxist writers (except, perhaps, for Suzanne de Brunhoff in her Marx on Money, and one or two others).
Financial companies, such as insurance funds, pension funds, asset managers, hedge funds, banks, etc, advance money they are given by others. Banks also have an ability to create their own assets, via the banking system, as another way to ‘advance’ capital. All of this is a very different form of securing a profit than in the case of ICC companies, despite the fact that all of them rely upon the surplus labour performed by the working class.
For the financial companies, the revenues they gain are commonly in the form of interest on loans made or bonds purchased, or as dividends ‘earned’ from the equity securities they own, or as rents from their investments in property assets. For Marxist analysis, this is technically different from ICC profits earned – after paying interest, etc – from the advance of capital by the owners of such corporations.
The distinction is most simply seen by comparing the leverage of financial companies with ICC. Often, the borrowing ratios of the former are more than twenty times higher than the latter. As a result, with the same advance of the owners’ capital, the amount actually invested/lent, etc, by a financial company can be dramatically higher than for ICC investments. This is a practical expression of the fact that the rate of interest, or such ‘financial’ returns, is not the same as the rate of profit. They have very different roles in the capitalist system, as I argue in my new book.
Any notion of financial ‘investment’ gets even more complex with financial derivatives. Here, what is recorded in accounting practice as an ‘asset’ is simply a derivative with a positive market value. If the derivative market price changes so that it is a loss to the holder, then it becomes a liability.
What appear initially as clear concepts of investment, and the rate of profit on that investment, are complicated by the reality of modern finance. Just consider, for example, that corporations quoted on the major stock exchanges pay most attention to their ‘return on equity’ or their ‘earnings per share’, rather than to a rate of profit due on the invested capital. This is the case, even though the capitalist system’s underlying rate of profit ultimately drives the ‘return on equity’, etc.

5. Economic history

The subject of economic history has more or less disappeared from academic prospectuses. However, it is an indispensable for any understanding of the modern world. Luckily, there are books still being produced that delve into archives and bring to light hidden aspects of important past events, ones that usually contradict the standard mythology, whether on the funding of the welfare state in rich countries, the dealings between major powers or of the road to war and oppression. It may seem perverse that the most enlightening critiques of imperialism can come from what would appear to be mainstream or even conservative writers, at least the ones with their wits about them who do not blindly accept what ‘everybody knows’. By comparison, many radicals often just embellish the mythology with invented stories of ‘struggle’ and ignore inconvenient facts, notably the chauvinism of the masses in the major countries. Rather than a ‘struggle’ by the working class for reforms, a story that appears to be anti-capitalist, often the reality was instead that the ruling elites did a deal with the bureaucracy of trade unions and popular political parties to secure a national consensus that would support imperialism.

Tony Norfield, 1 February 2016

Friday, 22 January 2016

Oil Prices, Equities and Debt


Equity markets have begun 2016 with the biggest falls on record, while the price of a barrel of oil dropped below $30. This is more than just a coincidence. The fall in oil prices results from, and also exacerbates, the continued malaise in the world economy
At first sight, lower oil prices should merely redistribute income from producers to consumers, via the lower of cost of energy, transport, etc. What is such a disaster about that, at least from the point of view of the world economy as a whole? One problem is the different concentration of the losses and gains: a small number of producers lose a lot, while many millions of consumers gain only a little. So news headlines report cancelled investment projects and job losses, rather than the motorist at the petrol station saving pennies on a litre of fuel. The negative impact on producers, especially on their investment, could well outweigh the demand that might result from consumers spending on other things. For example, many huge investments in shale production that looked viable when a barrel of oil was priced at $100 or above now look unprofitable – at least the loans given to these companies now look poorly backed by their prospects.
What is often overlooked, even by ‘Keynesian’ advocates of demand management, is that although consumer spending is bigger than investment in the economy, the swings in investment spending are much bigger than the percentage changes in consumption, and usually lead the up and down cycles of demand. Furthermore, what such analysts always overlook is that investment spending is basically driven by potential profitability. But this should not be a surprise in a capitalist economy!
More importantly, all this takes place in the context of continued, huge levels of debt compared to what the economy produces. There has been a sharp rise in debt levels versus GDP between 2007, ‘pre-crisis’, and 2014. This had occurred for almost all countries: poor countries such as China saw the sharpest rises in debt ratios; but rich countries saw a further increase from already elevated levels. This is the important context for the apparent reaction of equity markets to the fall in oil prices. The underlying problem is that debts cannot be paid back. It does not matter that the increase in debt in richer countries between 2007 and 2014 has largely been borne by the government, as the public sector took on private liabilities - all this means is that the pressure for austerity via cuts in government spending is all the greater. This casts doubt on the value of the full range of financial securities. Those securities linked to oil and gas prices now get hit directly because there is a clear focus of potential loss that is visible every second of the financial trading day. But the myriad of other equity securities issued by other financial, industrial and commercial companies get caught up in the downward vortex. This is not only because money capitalists work on the basis of what looks like giving the most attractive yield, so a fall in energy-related security prices has a knock on effect on other, non-energy-related securities too. More troubling is that there is clearly a broader problem affecting the whole economy.
This problem of debt and insufficient incentive to boost production overwhelms the otherwise mixed, plus and minus economic outcome (mainly plus) that follows from lower oil prices. In the oil market, refiners will be making more profit as the cost of their feedstock falls with lower crude oil prices faster than will their output prices of refined products. To some extent, this will insulate the integrated oil corporations from the downturn. Airline and other travel companies will also benefit from lower energy costs. So will China and Japan, major consumers of oil, although their energy companies will suffer. Nevertheless, governments, from Russia, Iran and Venezuela to Saudi Arabia, Norway and the UK will find their oil and gas tax revenues falling. This has already led Saudi Arabia to make very sharp cutbacks in its public spending to reduce a dramatically high deficit, while other countries have seen a drop in their currency exchange rates.

Table 1: Core Debt Levels of Non-Financial Sectors as a % of GDP, 2007 and 2014


Source: BIS, Quarterly Report, September 2015


All of this might simply be a series of local difficulties offset by positive developments elsewhere. But, in the absence of any momentum to support profitable capitalist investment elsewhere, it results in continued capitalist stagnation and the promise of yet more government measures to prevent a collapse of their system.

Tony Norfield, 22 January 2016

Monday, 3 February 2014

US rate of profit, 1948-2012

The charts below show some measures of the rate of profit for US corporations from 1948 to 2012. There are many ways to construct such measures from official data, but, as noted in my review of Lapavitsas's book on financialisation (6 January on this blog), none of them can expect to come very close to a Marxist view of the rate of profit. Apart from the usual issues of whether the data are accurate (and even if they measured what was necessary, the data are often revised), the domestic profits recorded by US corporations will also reflect the surplus value accrued from trade links with other countries. Profits from foreign investment can, in principle, be deducted from total profits, as is done here. However, that still leaves out a key source of profit for companies like Apple and Wal-Mart that get their commodities produced in poor countries.

Given such limitations, I do not think that it makes much sense to spend a lot of time making amendments to the available data for profitability and I have chosen a relatively simple measure of the profit rate. This is the total domestic US corporate profits in a year divided by the average of domestic fixed assets at the start and end of the year. In addition, I have shown the pre-tax and post-tax rate of profit, and also given measures of fixed assets on a current cost and on a historical cost basis. The pre-tax profit rate is higher than the post-tax measure, because even the US government has not managed to make taxes negative for corporations. The historical cost (HC) of fixed assets is lower than the current cost (CC) measure, given inflation, so the rate of profit measured against HC fixed assets will be higher than the rate of profit measured against CC fixed assets. This is dull stuff, but these things obviously have an impact on the profitability curve.

Here are two charts showing the four measures:




Data sources: US Bureau of Economic Analysis, National Income and Product Accounts, Tables 6.17 and 6.19 line 2. BEA Fixed Assets Accounts, Tables 6.1 and 6.3 line 2.

In the case of each measure, there was some rise into the mid-1990s from the post-1945 low point seen in the early 1980s. But by 2000-2001 the rate of profit was back down again close to the post-war lows. This decline preceded the 9/11 attacks, although it was exacerbated by them. There was then a sharp rise in recorded profitability in the next five years up to 2006. This rise was helped by much lower interest rates and a credit-fuelled rise in spending, capped by an accumulation of toxic assets that were not recognised as being a problem. The crisis from 2007-08 pushed profits lower, but the rate of profit measures increased again into 2012. This latter rise was largely on the back of higher profits for manufacturing and for the finance sector. In the former case, a further reduction in financing costs will have helped, while, for the latter, wider lending margins and the Fed's generosity in buying toxic assets have been a big boost. Far from the higher 2012 profit rates signalling that the world (or even the US) is OK, they reflect an economy that still requires a zero rate policy from the central bank and which is still engulfed in debt.


Tony Norfield, 3 February 2014

Monday, 6 January 2014

Capitalist Production Good, Capitalist Finance Bad



Costas Lapavitsas, Profiting Without Producing: How Finance Exploits Us All, London: Verso, 2013, 352 pages


This book aims to provide a Marxist interpretation of the global crisis, putting it in the context of a new phase of capitalism, one that is characterised by 'financialisation'. There are many definitions and uses of this term, and the book's back cover claims that it is 'one of the most innovative concepts to emerge in the field of political economy in the last three decades, although there is no agreement on what exactly it is'. In Lapavitsas’s view, however, 'The transformation of the conduct of non-financial enterprises, banks and households constitutes the basis of financialisation' (p. 4). In this review, I will assess the arguments made in favour of such a definition and Lapavitsas’s view of modern finance, both of which are problematic.

Key theoretical issues
After opening with a brief chapter on the rise of finance, noting especially the explosion of derivatives trading, Chapter 2 of the book ('Analysing financialisation') discusses the literature of recent decades, both Marxist and mainstream. This is very useful for providing a review of diverse approaches to the topic while also indicating Lapavitsas's own perspective. His discussion of the Monthly Review School, which was among the first in more recent times to focus on the rise of finance, is interesting because it opens up his own theoretical position. He notes that Monthly Review basically has an under-consumptionist view of capitalist crises, similar to a Keynesian one, and that it sees the move into finance as a result of non-financial companies escaping from a stagnant productive sector (p. 17). His critique of this view is that it cannot explain the changed behaviour of non-financial corporations, banks and households from the 1970s and he suggests that this change of behaviour rests upon economic reasons (pp. 17-18). But then he only promises an examination of the three changed behaviours, not of the economic reasons behind these changes: 'the examination of non-financial enterprises, banks and households takes up much of the rest of this book' (p. 18). As will be discussed further below, this sidesteps identifying a causal explanation for the broad financial developments from the 1970s. It is also worth noting that it is odd to exclude a wide range of financial institutions outside the banks - pension funds, insurance companies, hedge funds, stock exchanges, etc - from his general definition of 'financialisation'.
Another indication of his theoretical stance comes when he criticises Arrighi, making the point that the world market is 'a creation of industrial, commercial and financial capitals that have become dominant in their respective national economies'. The latter statement is not the self-evident proposition it might seem, however, and would not account for those companies whose operations are based on the world market, rather than emerging from the national economy, as is the case for BP, for example. However, the bigger problem is when he turns this into an argument for saying that the 'logic of theoretical analysis ought to run from the national economy to the world market' (p. 19). Apart from being a non sequitur, it is an argument that also contradicts, without comment, the analyses of Marx and Lenin, and of the Marxist tradition more generally. Of course, Lapavitsas recognises that the world market has an impact upon national economies, and he also states that 'financialisation is inherently bound up with the US dollar operating as the dominant form of world money since the 1970s' (p. 19). But the issue is more fundamental: the world market is the platform on which global capitalism operates, and one cannot understand 'world money', for example, unless one starts from a world market perspective, not a national one.
In Chapter 2, Lapavitsas also rejects the idea that the development of financialisation has anything to do with Marx's law of the tendency of the rate of profit to fall, or that falling profitability in capitalist production was a key factor behind the rise of finance. Instead, he stresses that 'the processes of finance should be analysed in their own right' (p. 37). However, this is a strange counterposition of arguments. Analysing finance would be necessary whatever the underlying dynamic of developments might be, but analysing financial ‘processes’ does not necessarily reveal that dynamic. Having rejected the profitability cause, he has not furnished another one in its place and is basically left with a descriptive approach to the phenomenon: analysing the processes of finance. This lack of need for one or more causal factors might be justified in his view because 'historical and institutional variation is a necessary feature of financialisation' (p. 39). However, even the most concrete developments, especially ones that dominate society, are liable to have been driven by a more general and systemic social dynamic.
I have a more positive assessment of the book's Chapter 3, which deals with the rise of finance at the end of the 19th century and the response of key Marxists to these developments, especially Hilferding and Lenin. Lapavitsas discusses Hilferding's theoretical innovations in the examination of new forms of finance, while bringing out the limitations of his Austro-Germany centred analysis. This chapter is also used to note that some issues are different for today's global capitalism: for example, whereas Lenin argued that the rich imperialist powers lived off rentier incomes from their loans to other countries, today rich countries, particularly the US, are more commonly borrowing from poor countries (p. 67). That is a reasonable observation to make, but also one-sided. Lapavitsas does not discuss the broader issue of how such borrowing helps finance higher-yielding foreign investment from the US (and the UK), nor the fact that the US and other rich countries do still earn rentier incomes. In 2012, US gross investment income from abroad was $770bn, while the net figure after income payments was $232bn. Not bad for a country that has a huge net debt position! Neither does he pay much attention to the commercial power of the major countries in the world market. Chapter 4 on the 'monetary basis of financialised capitalism' is also a useful review, covering Marx's theory of money, fiat money, private credit money, state-backed central bank money and the US dollar's role as 'quasi-world money'.
Chapter 5 on 'finance and the capitalist economy' is a further discussion of theoretical issues, including mainstream theories of finance. He makes a key point that a financial system is 'a specifically capitalist phenomenon, although sophisticated financial practices can be observed in a wide variety of other social formations' (p. 109). For me, the points of interest in this chapter are Lapavitsas's discussion of Marx's concepts of interest-bearing capital (IBC) and loanable money capital (LMC), and the issue of whether capital invested in banking/finance would tend to have the same rate of profit as for industrial and commercial capitalists. There is a good discussion of IBC on pages 112-118, which clarifies that Marx's concept relates to a (money) capitalist advancing funds as capital to a productive capitalist for investment purposes. Here, the money capitalist gets a return in the form of interest, where the interest is a deduction from the surplus value produced from the investment. This is not to say that surplus value is necessarily always produced.
LMC is a more general concept that includes IBC plus the spare funds arising from the industrial-commercial circuit of capital and the idle funds of all social classes (usually deposited in banks). As Lapavitsas puts it, 'the money market is the site where loanable [money] capital is traded' (p. 131). Such trading will result in a rate of interest for the loaned funds, but this can give the impression that basically the same thing is going on with every deal, which is incorrect. Some transactions are advances of IBC, but others will come under the heading of money-dealing capital, where money is loaned to industrial and commercial companies as a means of payment. For Marx, IBC receives a distinct category of interest, one that is determined quite differently from the average rate of profit. By contrast, while the second transaction involves an interest payment, it is one that will tend to generate an average rate of profit for the money-dealing capitalist. These operations in banks are often combined in one business, but the conceptual distinctions are still important for Marxist theory.
Lapavitsas appreciates these points, but then proceeds to confuse matters. In a response to an article of Ben Fine's from the mid-1980s (p. 127, footnote 45), Lapavitsas seems to be arguing that the rate of profit for banks should be the same as for other capitalist companies. This was also Hilferding's view, but it is not present in Marx's analysis because of the distinct position of IBC compared to industrial and commercial capital. Fine argued that profitability for banks is different (using 'banks' as a generic term for capital engaged in finance), because banks are not liable to provide funds for new entrants into banking as they would into other sectors (banks being agents of competition elsewhere, not between themselves). Competition in banking/finance for Fine does not establish a normal, equalised rate of profit, but gives rise to interest as a claim on surplus value prior to the distribution of profit of enterprise. Lapavitsas misrepresents Fine's view on this question.[1] I agree with Fine that profitability for banks is conceptually different, but would also stress that the licensing system for setting up a new bank helps maintain a monopoly over access to deposits. This also leads to a different form in which both profitability and interest appear for banks compared to other capitalist companies.
This might seem to be a side matter, but it reflects a tendency in Lapavitsas's argument to gather a wide range of phenomena under the heading of 'financialisation' and in the process to obscure some important Marxist concepts that would otherwise throw more theoretical light on what is really happening in the world. This is true in Chapter 6 on 'financial profit', for example, a chapter that discusses topics rarely covered in any detail in other Marxist literature.

Financial profit
In Chapter 6, Lapavitsas begins his discussion by revisiting a term that he has used in other publications: 'profit from alienation or expropriation'. This is not the standard form of exploiting workers in capitalist production, but 'exploitation in financial transactions', which, in the case of workers, amounts to a 'direct transfer of value from the income of workers to the lenders' (p. 143). This is the basis for his notion that finance 'exploits' the working class, and not only the other capitalists, so that it 'exploits us all', as in the subtitle of the book. He has been criticised a number of times for this concept of 'financial exploitation' because the term exploitation has a particular meaning for Marxism, based on the appropriation of surplus value from workers in capitalist production, but he continues to use it here.[2]
The argument against the notion that finance exploits the working class by taking a share of wages can be put simply. If one source of financial profit is a cut out of workers' incomes, in interest payments, fees, etc, then there are two alternative implications. Either this implies that workers are receiving a net income below the value of labour power once these deductions are accounted for, or these deductions are part of the value of labour power, paying for the 'socially necessary' goods and services, some of which are delivered on credit. In the former case, where such deductions were persistent, this would imply that a lower value of labour-power was in place than otherwise. But, over time, this lower level would become the new norm. In the latter case, if workers are not being paid below the value of labour-power, then the cost of consumer credit, mortgages, etc, is a part of the regular wages that workers are paid. In neither case is there a systematic 'financial exploitation’ of workers. Instead, the financial profits are a deduction from the profits of productive capitalists.
While there may be instances of predatory lending that eat into workers' disposable incomes, if the interest payments, fees, etc, take the widespread, persistent and systematic form that Lapavitsas assumes under 'financialisation', then ultimately the deduction is from surplus value, not from the value of labour power. Lapavitsas attempts to justify this theoretical inconsistency with some citations from Marx's writings that have no direct relationship to the point of criticism, being based on a misreading of Marx or by a false analogy with rent (pp. 144-146).
The point Lapavitsas essentially makes is that 'financial profit … could also emerge from expropriating the income and money stocks of others through the operations of the financial system', and not just from a division of surplus value produced (p. 145). However, in particular for the working class, this confuses the form of payment with the value relations underlying the payments. He makes things worse by arguing that contemporary financial expropriation 'represents a throw-back to ancient forms of capitalist [sic] profit-making that are independent of the generation of surplus value' (p. 146), a statement that leads into five pages of tangential discussion of Aristotle's views on predatory finance! This completely misconstrues modern developments. Rather than today's financiers rediscovering old methods for gouging profit from the vulnerable populace, their operations have evolved alongside the demands of contemporary capital accumulation, from the euromarkets to financial derivatives, as will be discussed further below.[3]
After Aristotle, Lapavitsas discusses the important question of leverage. Here, a capitalist company might borrow funds from a bank, something that will alter its 'rate of profit of enterprise' compared to the average rate of profit, depending on the level of the interest rate (pp. 151-155). This is an issue often overlooked when considering capitalism and finance. The surprising thing, however, is that Lapavitsas does not discuss the fact that bank leverage ratios are a large multiple of those for industrial and commercial companies, based on the banks' position in the credit system.[4] That would have been a far more pertinent angle for the discussion of financial profit. The banks do not merely gather up society's idle funds and lend these out - they also create new deposits and loan assets, and can do so up to (and beyond) prudential limits. This fact stands in stark contrast to Lapavitsas's view, expressed later, that the 'owners of loanable capital as well as the institutions that handle its flows have a limited capacity to augment its magnitude through their own actions (p. 203).[5] Bank assets are commonly more than 20 times a bank's equity capital and the ratio can be expanded as required. Rising leverage ratios were a major boost to bank profits during the credit bubble, and bank profits collapsed as assets were written off (loan defaults, etc) when the bubble burst.
Lapavitsas also discusses 'trading financial assets' (p. 163), and how financial profits can be derived from fictitious capital values. The aspect he focuses upon is capital gains, as in Hilferding's conception of founder's profit. Here, shares in a company are floated on the stock market for a total sum that exceeds what is needed for investing in the company (assuming the rate of discount/interest is less than the company's rate of profit). The excess value is realised by the founders/owners when they sell shares to others, or can be accounted for as more wealth in the form of the higher fictitious capital value of their own shares. He follows up this basic example of founder's profit and argues that the process is essentially the same for all kinds of capital gains on financial assets, when the seller makes a profit in a rising market and the 'final buyer' obtains rights to the 'entire flow of surplus value from the project but at a greater expense than each previous owner of shares' (pp. 164-165).
When it comes to financial securities that are the liabilities of workers not capitalists, however, as in mortgage bonds or consumer debt, Lapavitsas returns to the notion that the source of this financial profit is (future) wages (p. 167). He also argues that the creation of mortgage bonds from mortgage payments means that the 'money revenue of workers is transformed into loanable capital' (p. 167). However, it is loanable money capital that is advanced to the workers, and the securitisation of the mortgage payments as a bond does not create loanable money capital. Secondly, while mortgage payments deducted from workers’ incomes do go to financial companies, in general these are not deductions from the value of labour power, as explained above.
A final point on financial profit is worth making here. Lapavitsas has built his exposition around capital gains on financial securities. While he mentions the fees and commissions that are part of the trading in such securities, he does not deal with the financial 'profits' that result from such trading. These profits result largely from bid-offer spreads for dealing in securities, currencies, etc, and from the privileged market-making position of bank dealers versus other dealing counter-parties. Such profits have no relationship to changes in the price of the security traded, as they do in the example of capital gains. Profits from financial trading are very important for the banking sector, especially in a major centre of global financial trading such as London.

Financial developments and data
Chapter 7 on 'financialised accumulation' introduces section 3 of the book, one that deals more closely with the empirical and historical features of financialisation. The underlying theme remains the altered conduct of non-financial corporations, banks and households, but Lapavitsas argues that it should not be a surprise if 'the form of financialisation varies greatly between countries' (p. 171). This statement is consistent with his theoretical approach of going from the national economy to the world market (see above). However, it means that he cannot explain the relationship between the world market and the forms taken by financialisation, since it is a country's position in the world market that will determine the financial options available to it. Chapter 7 is mainly a repetition of the common view in radical literature that financialisation was responsible for lower economic growth (at least, lower real wage growth) and rising inequality. In this chapter, Lapavitsas also notes a variety of other issues - from attacks on trade unions, to central bank policy, to the role of the US dollar, to measures of productivity - but it is not clear what relationship these developments have to his main arguments.
Chapter 8 examines the 'tendencies and forms of financialisation' over sixty pages. Here Lapavitsas discusses developments in four major capitalist powers, the US, Japan, Germany and the UK, comparing and contrasting trends in the financial sector data and their relationship to the domestic economy. The value of this chapter to the reader depends on what the reader already knows, but that is not to say it is necessarily valuable for those with little knowledge of financial trends. One should be cautious about accepting a mass of empirical evidence as giving a good outline of the full picture: it may simply stress particular dimensions and exclude other important ones. Four examples are relevant here.
Firstly, Lapavitsas argues that financial profits have risen a great deal in recent decades as a share of total profits, but his charts are not very supportive. Figure 8 for the UK (p. 215) notes the profits of financial corporations as a share of total profits. But the line dips sharply from 1989 to 2000 before rising to a new peak by 2007-08. Figure 9 for Japan (p. 217) shows a slightly declining share between 1994 and 2007. Only the US chart looks like a longer-term upward trend.
Secondly, who receives the financial profit from financialisation? Lapavitsas notes that new social layers have been created, 'receiving finance-related income and bearing only a passing resemblance to the rentiers of old' (p. 217). However, he does not discuss who these people are. If they are not, or not only, a social stratum of the rich, moneyed capitalists living off interest, as depicted in classical Marxism, then who are they? Later, he notes that household assets have been 'a source of financial profit both in terms of fees earned by the institutions involved but also in terms of capital gains and transactions in financial assets for both intermediaries and final holders' (p. 243). This formulation avoids stating clearly the fact that a large number of households in rich countries - owners of financial securities and pensions - are also recipients of financial profit, either in the form of capital gains or as interest-related income. But then finance is supposed to 'exploit us all’.
Thirdly, despite the extensive data coverage for the four countries, Lapavitsas gives no data for the financial benefits each receives from other countries, neither in terms of foreign investment income nor on the financial services revenues that accrue to them. These are key issues for British imperialism, and also for the US, but they do not come into his coverage of 'financialisation'. At most, the benefits are noted summarily for the US, mentioning subsidies from dominated powers via the build up of foreign exchange reserves (p. 252). Furthermore, since 'finance exploits us all', there is no coverage of the huge property assets of many households in the rich countries. In the UK at least, these more than offset the total of mortgage debt liabilities to the banking system.[6] This is not to deny that many people have large mortgage debts that might exceed the value of their residential property, but the omission of these important assets is consistent with the absence of any consideration in Lapavitsas's work that a mass of people in the rich countries - not just financiers or capitalists - have economic privileges.
Fourthly, the view that 'financialisation' has gripped all the major countries may seem plausible, but it is not backed up by all the charts that Lapavitsas includes for the four countries covered. For example, commercial bank assets (pp. 234-235) in the form of household mortgages and loans to individuals did rise as a share of total assets in the US, but were still only around 25% of assets by the mid-late 2000s. In Japan, the share rose too, but only to around 10% of bank assets, while in Germany the share was flat at around 10%. In the UK the share of such loans fell from around 23% to around 15% in the decade to 2009. Not exactly a substantial or pervasive change.
A general problem with this approach to financial developments is that it leads to a very restricted view of what is going on in the imperialist world economy. This is also true when he discusses 'subordinate financialisation' among countries dominated by imperialism. His focus is on the incursion of foreign banks that, he argues, changed their domestic financial systems and mimicked selected trends in the rich countries, such as bank lending to households (p. 246). This perspective follows from his overall view of financialisation, but it hardly does justice to the real tribulations faced by subordinate countries. To give some appreciation of these, he does note a quite different point, that poor countries lent funds to rich countries (especially the US) at low interest rates via foreign exchange reserve accumulation (p. 252). But, while important, this fact does not fit into the theoretical framework that he has constructed about what is new in 'financialisation'.
Chapter 9, 'tending to crisis', begins with an interesting review of Marx's theory of finance and crises before moving on to how the financial form taken by capitalist crises is different in conditions of modern capitalism than in Marx's day. The objective of this chapter appears to be one where he wants to explain 'finance as a factor of capitalist crises' (p. 260), but as a factor that can operate separately from one or more fundamental causes. The subsequent discussion of the financial bubble and bust from 2001-2009 repeats the standard view that it was a sub-prime crisis emerging from the US. He does not discuss why the US Federal Reserve had kept interest rates so low in the early 2000s, except to see it as a policy response to the bursting of the dot.com bubble of 1999-2000 (p. 271). Nor does he discuss why the toxic mortgage securities emerging from the bubble were so easily distributed around the world, and whether this too might have had some relationship to problems of capital accumulation and low returns on investment. The key point emerging from the first half of this chapter is that Lapavitsas sees the crisis as resulting from a malfunctioning of the financial system (a 'Type 2' crisis, p. 271), rather than having any relationship to capitalist profitability.[7]
In the second half of the chapter, Lapavitsas focuses on the euro area financial crisis. This draws upon his other (co-authored) published work and makes some good points about the systemic problems faced by the euro countries.[8] Much of the ground covered is very familiar, but there is a nice turn of phrase summing up the euro sovereign debt crisis: the weaker countries had found that they 'had borrowed in a currency - the euro - which appeared to be domestic but was in effect foreign' (p. 298). My question, however, is why these developments should be considered a 'crisis of financialisation' in Lapavitsas's terms. Essentially what had happened was simply that the weaker euro countries had borrowed excessively at the low interest rates on offer, and had also lost competitiveness. When the credit bubble burst after 2008, they were left high and dry. Overall, his view is to look upon the euro project as having benefited German capital by providing it with a stable, internal market (pp. 290-291, p. 293). A better assessment would have put the euro project in the context of a longer-term attempt by the major European capitalist powers to meet 'le défi américain'.[9] The irony of more recent developments is that most of Germany's trade surplus now originates from outside the euro-17 countries (64% in 2012).

Controlling finance
The final Chapter 10 on 'controlling finance' draws together the previous themes, but it reaches a conclusion that is at first sight surprising for a book within a Marxist perspective. Yet, if one follows through the logic of the previous arguments, especially the view that the current crisis results from a malfunctioning of the financial system, then this is not so much of a surprise. Lapavitsas considers at length a number of mainstream and radical proposals on regulation to deal with the malfunctioning and then comes up with his own solution. He calls for the creation of a public sector bank! Not a demand for more regulation, since his analysis has shown that the financial system - and pervasive financialisation - will find ways around any new rules (pp. 323-324). Nor a simple demand for bank nationalisation, of course, because most of the equity of some big banks in the UK and elsewhere has already been taken into state ownership. Instead, he advocates ‘publicly managing the flow of credit to households and non-financial enterprises to achieve socially set objectives as well as to eliminate financial expropriation’ (pp. 324-325). He adds that these public banks ‘would be able to adopt a longer-term horizon in lending, helping to strengthen the productive sector and to reverse financialisation’ (p. 325).
I was tempted to compare these views with those of the Archbishop of Canterbury, who last year called for splitting up big banks and making them good for society. But it is more telling to give some further details of the Lapavitsas plan.
He admonishes the banks for their failure to monitor credit quality, so he decides to take the issue seriously in the case of his proposed public institution. After all, strengthening the capitalist productive sector cannot be achieved by giving cheap loans to dodgy prospects; that would waste social resources. So, there would be ‘publicly determined rates of interest’, varying among different borrowers, and public banks would ‘deploy the techniques of information collection for income, employment, and personal conditions, including credit scoring and quantitative risk management’ (p. 325). Thus, we can see how scientific calculation will overcome the evils of financialisation and capitalist markets!
As an exercise in utopianism, this is hard to beat. Let’s leave aside the fact that there is a global monopoly network of huge corporations that has control of distribution channels and supply chains, technology patents and product licences, quite apart from the backing they get for international trade and investment deals negotiated by their states. But this policy proposal shares the common superstition among radicals, one alien to Marxism, that the capitalist state is a neutral bag of tools that can be utilised in favour of the masses. Lapavitsas had already noted that large corporations do not really depend on banks for loans, so presumably he envisages offering loans to small- and medium-sized enterprises, ones that have not already been crushed by monopoly power and which often already depend on state support for their products and services. But one does not take a peashooter to a gunfight.
Lapavitsas also sets aside the fact that banks already monitor credit risks and so are reluctant to lend to such companies by arguing that they are not very good at it, confident that his proposed public bank would do a better job. He does not consider the fate of failed versions of his more 'social' banking, for example, the Spanish Cajas and the UK's own Co-operative Bank. In the next sections, I will discuss further some theoretical and empirical issues in the analysis that Lapavitsas has offered.

What is, and what led to, financialisation?
Earlier I noted that Lapavitsas's approach to the question of financialisation was essentially descriptive, leaving unclear the reasons behind the changes in financial markets since the 1970s. The explanation has many dimensions, but these are not to be found in the book. His description, based around the changed behaviour of the three elements of the economy he identifies, consists of the following elements:
·        Non-financial companies shifted from borrowing directly from banks and undertook their own borrowing from capital markets, in the process gaining financial expertise;
·        Banks responded to this by shifting business to more financial trading and to lending to households in various ways (mortgages, credit cards);
·        Households found that, after neo-liberal economic reforms, they were more engaged in providing for themselves pensions, health care and housing, all of which increased their involvement with financial markets.
I would query a number of these points. Firstly, large corporations have always, and especially in the US and the UK, depended for the bulk of their investment financing on internal funds, ie retained profits. Their relationships with banks have been most active in money-dealing services, including foreign exchange and short-term credit provision. Secondly, while it has been true that non-financial corporations have in recent decades raised more capital from bond and equity markets at the expense of long-term borrowing from banks, the banks have, in turn, made a growing business from floating these bonds and equities for a fee. The corporations do not sell their securities themselves. This has been one of the reasons behind many 'commercial banks' turning themselves into 'investment banks', or at least opening up an investment-banking arm. Thirdly, the data do suggest that there has been a growth of household mortgage debt and also more personal investment in private pensions, so increasing the involvement of households in financial markets. However, as argued earlier, this does not support Lapavitsas's claim that household incomes have been an ultimate source of financial profit.
Lapavitsas notes the important role of the state, saying that: 'As far as financialisation is concerned … the transformation of mature economies would have been inconceivable without the facilitating and enabling role of the state'. He then argues that there are three features of the state's role: the command over state-backed central bank money (especially since the break with gold from 1971); enabling the global spread of financialisation through command over world money (via the role of the US dollar); and by smoothing the path of financialisation by altering the regulatory framework for finance (pp. 192-193). These are the factors often included in accounts of capitalism since the 1970s, but he offers no causal dynamic to explain these changes. For example, he does not explain many governments' implicit and explicit support for financial deregulation from the 1970s when there had in previous decades been far more controls in place. Did governments spontaneously embark on this new policy? Or were there more fundamental trends to which they responded and which led to financial deregulation, etc?
More importantly, missing from Lapavitsas's account is an assessment of what drove the boom in financial transactions and other forms of 'financialisation'. I think there are two key factors here: an underlying problem of weak profitability and the particular financial form that this took.
In my view, the greater role of financial transactions and international flows of capital in the world economy over recent decades was not such a sharp break from the previous 1945-1970s period as many proponents of the 'financialisation' concept maintain, although these developments were, of course, accelerated after the breakdown of the Bretton Woods monetary system. But that breakdown was a result both of the changing balance of power in the world economy, as US hegemony weakened, and of the increasing difficulties faced by capital accumulation as profitability fell on a world scale. Even prior to the Bretton Woods collapse, there had been a dramatic growth of the euromarkets and other international financial flows from the late 1950s, based on the demands of major world corporations for finance.[10] These led many governments, particularly those under pressure, to complain about the increased 'hot money' flows, as with UK Labour politicians' attacks in the 1960s on the 'gnomes of Zurich' (a phrase that conveniently excluded the parasites of London). The law of value operating internationally - what are you producing and what is it worth in the world market? - which also led to the evolution of new forms of finance, was behind the collapse of Bretton Woods.
The stagnation-inflation turmoil of the early 1970s brought about further financial developments, including the removal of most of the international capital controls in the US, Canada and Germany, together with industrial restructuring, higher unemployment and austerity measures as governments and companies tried to deal with the crisis. This is the backdrop to what is termed the 'neoliberal' period from the late 1970s, epitomised by Reagan and Thatcher. The policy actions of the latter governments, including a sharp rise of interest rates after 1979 to control inflation, are more accurately described as further attempts to try and restore conditions for profitable accumulation rather than as shocking new developments. Still less can they be described as measures to support the 'ascendancy of finance' (p. 194), unless it is also admitted that the parasitic form of capitalism in the key powers also meant that the 'financial' option seemed a lucrative one when they had such difficulty in making domestic production profitable. The US and British states, in particular, boosted the financial sector as a deliberate policy to improve their ability to appropriate value from other countries, especially after 1979 but also before. Market pressures forced other countries to adapt to these moves from the major, financially oriented powers. This is the real substance of the phenomenon labelled 'financialisation'. In contrast to Lapavitsas, I would argue that problems of profitability and capital accumulation, particularly as these issues affected the US and UK, do lie at the root of what he calls financialisation.

Capitalist profitability and financialisation
Almost all measures of the rate of profit for major countries show a trend decline from the 1950s into the early 1970s. As a result, there is little dispute about falling profitability as the underlying cause of the 1970s economic and financial turmoil, at least among those who claim to base their views on Marxist theory.[11] For the period from the 1980s into the mid-2000s, the consensus in the literature is that the rate of profit was on a rising trend, at least as measured for the US. There is far from universal agreement that this is correct,[12] but the common view is that the crisis starting in 2007 in the rich countries was a result of financial excess, rather than having any relationship to a capitalist profitability crisis. The financial form of the latest crisis - a massive build up of debts, speculation, fraudulent deals, etc - has encouraged this perspective.
In line with this latter view, Lapavitsas characterises the latest crisis as emanating from a 'malfunctioning of the financial system', what he calls a 'Type 2' crisis, rather than one that originates in the industrial and commercial circuit of capital (p. 266, p. 271) or one that can be said to be an accumulation crisis based in any way upon profitability. In particular, he dismisses the opinion that treats 'financialisation as the flight of capital from a stagnating productive sector' (p. 18).
My views on the current crisis, the question of capitalist profitability and the growth of finance are different. On the question of data, I think it is not possible to get a good approximation for the rate of profit in the capitalist system as understood by Marx. Apart from anything else, there are problems of allowing for productive and unproductive labour, the impact of a monopolistic world market on value calculations, data inaccuracies, tax havens and the methodology of compiling the data.[13] Despite this, it is a natural urge for many, especially those analysts interested in Marxism, to use the available data to examine profitability trends. I sympathise with this effort, but remain sceptical about whether it is possible to make a good job of it. That said, I would agree that it would be odd if there were a major crisis, as we have today, and the available data showed that the rate of profit in the years ahead of the crisis had been relatively high. Some measures of US profitability do indeed show relatively high rates of profit ahead of the crisis and that would appear to give support to the 'financial malfunction' thesis of Lapavitsas and others. However, one does not need to accept the available data on profits uncritically, especially for the US.
I would note three factors that put any calculation of rising US profitability from the 1980s in a different light, whether one measures it for the overall corporate sector, or whether one tries to make a separate measure for industrial and commercial companies.[14] The first was the attack on working class living standards by the US government and business, the use of migrant labour and the marginalisation of labour unions. To some extent, this effect can be measured, although there are debates on what productivity, price, wage and benefits data to use, and this factor was probably significant. However, it was likely to have been more of a one-off factor, and most measures of US rates of profit show lower rates into the end of the 1990s.
The second factor has arguably been more important, but it does not directly appear in any US data: the impact of low cost products available to US capital through trading relationships with low wage countries, particularly China. These reduced the cost of living for most workers and also provided cheap inputs for business. Lapavitsas notes the so-called 'Great Moderation' (p. 194), the term used to describe the apparent success of US policymakers in achieving reasonable growth together with lower inflation. But he does not mention this crucial point that helped underpin that success, one that relied upon the introduction of many tens of millions of new, super-exploited workers into the world economic system from the 1980s. Some Marxists dispute this factor, implicitly assuming a similar rate of exploitation for all workers - otherwise, it might seem to be strange why capitalists invest in the richer countries at all, and why they do not fully migrate to the low wage areas. However, one should also consider the stratification of global production between rich and poor countries,[15] and the political factors behind immigration controls in rich countries, including working class support for these, something that has prevented an equalisation of rates of exploitation. Overall, this factor was a significant boost to global profitability, but its incremental impact will now be much less.
The third factor boosting US corporate profitability for industrial and commercial capitalists was progressively lower nominal and real interest rates.[16] This development was based on an unwinding of the previous very high rates that followed the tightening of Fed policy in the early 1980s, on the success of capital in attacking the US working class, on the low cost of imports and on Asian countries accumulating huge foreign exchange reserves (buying US securities and so reducing their yields) as an insurance against financial trouble after the crisis of 1997-98. The end result was a sharp rise in US consumer borrowing, a relative decline of interest income for the banks, a rise in the price of financial securities, more financial trading and credit-fuelled demand for the products of industry and commerce in the 2000s.[17] The problem now is that nominal US interest rates cannot really be pushed any lower.
This was the real world backdrop for the 'financialisation' phenomena. As these summary points indicate, financial developments are multi-faceted and their relationship to the rate of profit is complex. However, at the very least, one should not look upon any data showing credit-fuelled profit rates for the period up to 2007 as being a sign of healthy capitalism![18] It should also be noted that the recorded profitability of US companies (such as Wal-Mart and Apple) might not necessarily have much relationship to the profit arising from their domestic US operations. That would help explain the apparent paradox that US corporate profits might be high while (domestic US) investment remains weak.

Conclusion
Lapvitsas's book has raised many issues and gives valuable food for thought in coming to an understanding of the global crisis. The financial form of the crisis is a challenging phenomenon to unravel, but Lapavitsas’s approach is wrong on several counts. He rejects what he would judge as a simplistic, or simply invalid, ‘falling rate of profit’ explanation of the crisis and financial developments, but then only proceeds to describe the (autonomous) development of financial processes. Even here, as I have argued, there are serious gaps in his coverage. He also sets up the concept of ‘financial exploitation’, particularly of workers’ incomes. This is not only at odds with a standard Marxist understanding, despite his exaggerated claims to the contrary drawing upon usury. It is also used to make a distinction between the financial capitalists who exploit without producing and those capitalists who exploit in the process of production. The reader cannot come away without getting the impression that the latter is fine, or at least the lesser of two evils, especially when his conclusion is that 'public banks could support the provision of banking services to real accumulation as well as to households' (p. 324).
           Finance is not a simple, parasitical outgrowth of the 'productive' capitalist economy, as Lapavitsas has argued well when looking at the operations of big corporations and their relationship with the financial system. However, this insight does not prevent him from counterposing the two. His 'national to world economy' perspective has also led him to overlook important features of finance that would have elucidated the role of finance for the major imperialist powers, in particular the US and UK. Identifying different forms of capital, especially the financial ones, is important for understanding the workings of capitalism. But, despite the Marxist guise, this book ends up as yet another form of anti-finance populism that, despite being critical of capitalism, seeks to restore the health of the capitalist economy.


Tony Norfield, 6 January 2014


[1] Fine does not argue in that article that banks do not lend to each other as Lapavitsas claims, a point that would obviously be an absurd one to make. In addition, Lapavitsas seems to misunderstand, and misrepresents, Fine's argument from the earlier paper that banks/finance can combine different forms of capital in exchange together, something which Fine takes as key in understanding the notion of financialisation (in contrast to Lapavitsas's view of financial exploitation) as in a much more recent paper unacknowledged by Lapavitsas (see footnote 2).
[2] Ben Fine has offered the most telling critique, one argument of which is summarised in the next paragraph (see 'Locating Financialisation', Historical Materialism, 18, 2010). Lapavitsas does not refer to this article in his book. In two presentations of the book, made at SOAS in London in October and November 2013, Lapavitsas did not answer questions on this particular topic from the audience, including from myself.
[3] See, for example, the author's discussion of developments in financial derivatives as one response to problems of capital accumulation in 'Derivatives and capitalist markets: the speculative heart of capital', Historical Materialism, 20 1, 2012.
[4] For a brief discussion of this issue, see 'Bank profits and leverage' on this blog, 25 August 2011. A fuller treatment is in 'Value theory and finance', Research in Political Economy, 28, 2013.
[5] Lapavitsas does, on occasion, briefly refer to bank credit creation, but, as these points indicate, it has no role to play in his broader analysis. It is one of the paradoxes, rather failures, of Marxist discussion of the banking system and finance that the basic mechanism of bank credit creation, included in all mainstream economics macro textbooks, rarely gets a mention.
[6] Property assets are usually not included as part of financial assets in official statistics, but to exclude them leads to a distorted picture. UK data for 2008-10 estimate a total net property wealth (after deducting mortgage liabilities) of £3,375bn! [Correction, 19 January 2014: footnote 6 of the article when first posted incorrectly added that median household net property wealth was £340,000, however this figure was the median for the top 10% of households]
[7] His 'Type 1' crises, by contrast, are where monetary and financial crises are 'an integral part of industrial and commercial crises' (p. 165).
[8] However, the points raised about diverging competitiveness within the euro area and potential problems for central bank policy were included in many reports from banks in the City of London and elsewhere in the early 2000s.
[9] This is the title of a famous 1967 book by Jean-Jacques Servan-Schreiber, a French politician. Germany has obviously played a key role in the development of the euro project, but this project was based upon the coincidence of interests of several major European powers. Germany was actually one of the most reluctant to internationalise the euro. It is often ignored in radical denunciations of Germany's role, as also in this book, that Germany has subsidised other euro countries. For more on these topics see other article on this blog: 'The Imperial Balances' 12 September 2012, and, for a more general discussion of the euro project and its relationship to imperial rivalry, 'Cameron, Merkozy and Europe', 12 December 2011.
[10] Lapavitsas makes some similar points at the end of his book to the ones formerly mentioned in this paragraph (p. 311), but the thrust of his argument is to stress the novelty of the financialisation phase.
[11] This is not to say that there is no dispute about the reasons for the fall in profitability into the 1970s! There are basically two camps here: those who argue that profits fell because of higher wage settlements (usually welcomed as an attack on capitalism - how times change!) and those who argued it was based upon a rising organic composition of capital. I am in the latter camp, but note that the difficulty of getting more surplus value out of the domestic workforce was an important driver of the later trend towards 'globalisation' and the shift of production to low wage, more exploited workforces elsewhere.
[12] See, for example, the work of Guglielmo Carchedi, Alan Freeman, Andrew Kliman and Michael Roberts, among others. For a recent review of some profitability issues, see Michael Roberts' blog: http://thenextrecession.wordpress.com/2013/12/19/the-us-rate-of-profit-extending-the-debate/
[13] This article is a book review, so neither will I discuss the additional headaches of considering questions such as historical cost versus current cost of investments, and of the relatively new official device of attributing the financial sector its own 'value added', labelled FISIM in the UK.
[14] In US statistics, comparable data exist for calculating an overall corporate sector profit rate (using a measure of profits versus fixed assets, as is commonly done). However, it is far trickier to get the necessary data for the non-financial and financial sectors separately.
[15] John Smith discusses this important point about North-North and South-South competition. See, for example, 'Southern labour—“Peripheral” no longer: A reply to Jane Hardy', International Socialism, 140, 7 October 2013.
[16] Financial capitalists managed to boost their profitability as interest rates fell in this period by raising their leverage, as noted earlier, especially in the US.
[17] See my article, 'Derivatives and capitalist markets', Historical Materialism, 20 1, 2012, for an examination of some of these trends.
[18] The more recent recovery in bank profitability is largely due to wider interest rate margins, backed by low central bank interest rates in many countries and an implicit or explicit state guarantee on their credit.