A Second Great Depression, or Worse?

Simon Johnson, the former chief economist at the International Monetary Fund, is the co-author of “13 Bankers.”

With the United States and European economies having slowed markedly according to the latest data, and with global growth continuing to disappoint, a reasonable question increasingly arises: Are we in another Great Depression?

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The easy answer is “no” — the main features of the Great Depression have not yet manifested themselves and still seem unlikely. But it is increasingly likely that we will find ourselves in the midst of something nearly as traumatic, a long slump of the kind seen with some regularity in the 19th century, particularly if presidential election-year politics continue to head in a dangerous direction.

The Great Depression had three main characteristics, seen in the United States and most other countries that were severely affected. None of these have been part of our collective experience since 2007.

First, output dropped sharply after 1929, by over 25 percent in real terms in the United States (using the Bureau of Economic Analysis data, from its Web site, for real gross domestic product, using chained 1937 dollars). In contrast, the United States had a relatively small decline in G.D.P. after the latest boom peaked. According to the bureau’s most recent online data, G.D.P. peaked in the second quarter of 2008 at $14.4155 trillion and bottomed out in the second quarter of 2009 at $13.8541 trillion, a decline of about 4 percent.

Second, unemployment rose above 20 percent in the United States during the 1930s and stayed there. In the latest downturn, we experienced record job losses for the postwar United States, with around eight million jobs lost. But unemployment only briefly touched 10 percent (in the fourth quarter of 2009; see the Bureau of Labor Statistics Web site).

Even by the highest estimates — which include people discouraged from looking for a job, thus not registered as unemployed — the jobless rate reached around 16 to 17 percent. It’s a jobs disaster, to be sure, but not the same scale as the Great Depression.

Third, in the 1930s the credit system shrank sharply. In large part this is because banks failed in an uncontrolled manner — largely in panics that led retail depositors to take out their funds. The creation of the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation put an end to that kind of run and, despite everything, the agency has continued to play a calming role. (I’m on the F.D.I.C.’s newly created systemic resolution advisory committee, but I don’t have anything to do with how the agency handles small and medium-size banks.)

But the experience at the end of the 19th century was also quite different from the 1930s — not as horrendous, yet very traumatic for many Americans. The heavily leveraged sector more than 100 years ago was not housing but rather agriculture — a different play on real estate.

There were booming new technologies in that day, including the stories we know well about the rapid development of transportation, telephones, electricity and steel. But falling agricultural prices kept getting in the way for many Americans. With large debt burdens, farmers were vulnerable to deflation (a lower price level in general or just for their products). And before the big migration into cities, farmers were a mainstay of consumption.

According to the National Bureau of Economic Research, falling from peak to trough in each cycle took 11 months between 1945 and 2009 but twice that length of time between 1854 and 1919. The longest decline on record, according to this methodology, was not during the 1930s but rather from October 1873 to March 1879, more than five years of economic decline.

In this context, it is quite striking — and deeply alarming — to hear a prominent Republican presidential candidate attack Ben Bernanke, the Federal Reserve chairman, for his efforts to prevent deflation. Specifically, Gov. Rick Perry of Texas said earlier this week, referring to Mr. Bernanke: “If this guy prints more money between now and the election, I don’t know what y’all would do to him in Iowa but we would treat him pretty ugly down in Texas. Printing more money to play politics at this particular time in American history is almost treacherous — er, treasonous, in my opinion.”

In the 19th century the agricultural sector, particularly in the West, favored higher prices and effectively looser monetary policy. This was the background for William Jennings Bryan’s famous “Cross of Gold” speech in 1896; the “gold” to which he referred was the gold standard, the bastion of hard money — and tendency toward deflation — favored by the East Coast financial establishment.

Populism in the 19th century was, broadly speaking, from the left. But now the rising populists are from the right of the political spectrum, and they seem intent on intimidating monetary policy makers into inaction. We see this push both on the campaign trail and on Capitol Hill — for example, in interactions between the House Financial Services Committee, where Representative Ron Paul of Texas is chairman of the monetary policy subcommittee, and the Federal Reserve.

The relative decline of agriculture and the rise of industry and services over a century ago were long believed to have made the economy more stable, as it moved away from cycles based on the weather and global swings in supply and demand for commodities. But financial development creates its own vulnerability as more people have access to credit for their personal and business decisions. Add to that the rise of a financial sector that has proved brilliant at extracting subsidies that protect against downside risk, and hence encourage excessive risk-taking. The result is an economy that is at least as prone to big boom-bust cycles as what existed at the end of the 19th century.

The rise of the Tea Party has taken fiscal policy off the table as a potential countercyclical instrument; the next fiscal moves will be contractionary (probably more spending cuts), whether jobs start to come back or not. In this situation, monetary policy matters a great deal, and Mr. Bernanke’s focus on avoiding deflation and hence limiting the problems for debtors does not seem inappropriate (for more on Mr. Bernanke, his motivations and actions, see David Wessel’s book, “In Fed We Trust“).

Mr. Bernanke has his flaws, to be sure. Under his leadership, the Fed has been reluctant to take on regulatory issues, continuing to see the incentive distortions of “too big to fail” banks as somehow separate from monetary policy, its primary concern. And his team has consistently pushed for capital requirements that are too low relative to the shocks we now face.

And the Federal Reserve itself is to blame for some of the damage to its reputation, although it did get a major assist from Treasury in 2008-9. There were too many bailouts rushed over weekends, with terms that were too generous to incumbent management and not sufficiently advantageous to the public purse.

But to accuse Mr. Bernanke of treason for worrying about deflation is worse than dangerous politics. It risks returning us to the long slump of the late 1870s.