Reliving the Crash of ‘29

[First published in Inquiry, November 12, 1979.]

A half-century ago, America — and then the world — was rocked by a mighty stock-market crash that soon turned into the steepest and longest-lasting depression of all time.

It was not only the sharpness and depth of the depression that stunned the world and changed the face of modern history: it was the length, the chronic economic morass persisting throughout the 1930s, that caused intellectuals and the general public to despair of the market economy and the capitalist system.

Previous depressions, no matter how sharp, generally lasted no more than a year or two. But now, for over a decade, poverty, unemployment, and hopelessness led millions to seek some new economic system that would cure the depression and avoid a repetition of it.

The public didn’t realize, Strong thought, that “we were now paying the penalty for the decision which was reached early in 1924 to help the rest of the world back to a sound financial and monetary basis.” An unexceptionable statement, provided that we clear up some euphemisms. For the “decision” was taken by Strong in camera, without the knowledge or participation of the American people; the decision was to inflate money and credit, and it was done not to help the “rest of the world” but to help sustain Britain’s unsound and inflationary policies.

Before the World War, all the major nations were on the gold standard, which meant that the various currencies — the dollar, pound, mark, franc, etc. — were redeemable in fixed weights of gold. This gold requirement ensured that governments were strictly limited in the amount of scrip they could print and pour into circulation, whether by spending to finance government deficits or by lending to favored economic or political groups. Consequently, inflation had been kept in check throughout the 19th century when this system was in force.

But world war ruptured all that, just as it destroyed so many other aspects of the classical-liberal polity. The major warring powers spent heavily on the war effort, creating new money in bushel baskets to pay the expense. Inflation was consequently rampant during and after World War I and, since there were far more pounds, marks, and francs in circulation than could possibly be redeemed in gold, the warring countries were forced to go off the gold standard and to fall back on paper currencies — all, that is, except for the United States, which was embroiled in the war for a relatively short time and could therefore afford to remain on the gold standard.

After the war, the nations faced a world currency breakdown with rampant inflation and chaotically falling exchange rates. What was to be done? There was a general consensus on the need to go back to gold, and thereby to eliminate inflation and frantically fluctuating exchange rates. But how to go back? That is, what should be the relations between gold and the various currencies?

Specifically, Britain had been the world’s financial center for a century before the war, and the British pound and the dollar had been fixed all that time in terms of gold so that the pound would always be worth $4.86. But during and after the war the pound had been inflated relatively far more than the dollar, and thus had fallen to about $3.50 on the foreign-exchange market. But Britain was adamant about returning the pound, not to the realistic level of $3.50, but rather to the old prewar par of $4.86.

Why the stubborn insistence on going back to gold at the obsolete prewar par? Part of the reason was a stubborn and mindless concentration on saving face and British honor, on showing that the old lion was just as strong and tough as before the war. Partly, it was a shrewd realization by British bankers that if the pound were devalued from prewar levels England would lose its financial preeminence, perhaps to the United States, which had been able to retain its gold status.

So, under the spell of its bankers, England made the fateful decision to go back to gold at $4.86. But this meant that Britain’s exports were now made artificially expensive and its imports cheaper, and since England lived by selling coal, textiles, and other products, while importing food, the resulting chronic depression in its export industries had serious consequences for the British economy. Unemployment remained high in Britain, especially in its export industries, throughout the boom of the 1920s.

To make this leap backward to $4.86 viable, Britain would have had to deflate its economy so as to bring about lower prices and wages and make its exports once again inexpensive abroad. But it wasn’t willing to deflate since that would have meant a bitter confrontation with Britain’s now-powerful unions. Ever since the imposition of an extensive unemployment-insurance system, wages in Britain were no longer flexible downward as they had been before the war. In fact, rather than deflate, the British government wanted the freedom to keep inflating, in order to raise prices, do an end run around union wage rates, and ensure cheap credit for business.

The British authorities had boxed themselves in: They insisted on several axioms. One was to go back to gold at the old prewar par of $4.86. This would have made deflation necessary, except that a second axiom was that the British continue to pursue a cheap credit, inflationary policy rather than deflation. How to square the circle? What the British tried was political pressure and arm-twisting on other countries, to try to induce or force them to inflate too. If other countries would also inflate, the pound would remain stable in relation to other currencies; Britain would not keep losing gold to other nations, which endangered its own jerry-built monetary structure.

On the defeated and small new countries of Europe, Britain’s pressure was notably successful. Using their dominance in the League of Nations and especially in its Financial Committee, the British forced country after country not only to return to gold, but to do so at overvalued rates, thereby endangering those nations’ exports and stimulating imports from Britain. And the British also flummoxed these countries into adopting a new form of gold “exchange” standard, in which they kept their reserves not in gold, as before, but in sterling balances in London.

In this way, the British could continue to inflate; and pounds, instead of being redeemed in gold, were used by other countries as reserves on which to pyramid their own paper inflation. The only stubborn resistance to the new order came from France, which had a hard-money policy into the late 1920s. It was French resistance to the new British monetary order that was ultimately fatal to the house of cards the British attempted to construct in the 1920s.

The United States was a different situation altogether. Britain could not coerce the United States into inflating in order to save the misbegotten pound, but it could cajole and persuade. In particular, it had a staunch ally in Benjamin Strong, who could always be relied on to be a willing servitor of British interests. By repeatedly agreeing to inflate the dollar at British urging, Benjamin Strong won the plaudits of the British financial press as the best friend of Great Britain since Ambassador Walter Hines Page, who had played a key role in inducing the United States to enter the war on the British side.

Why did Strong do it? We know that he formed a close friendship with British financial autocrat Montagu Norman, longtime head of the Bank of England. Norman would make secret visits to the United States, checking in at a Saratoga Springs resort under an assumed name, and Strong would join him there for the weekend, also incognito, there to agree on yet another inflationary coup de whiskey to the market.

Surely this Strong–Norman tie was crucial, but what was its basic nature? Some writers have improbably speculated on a homosexual liaison to explain the otherwise mysterious subservience of Strong to Norman’s wishes. But there was another, and more concrete and provable, tie that bound these two financial autocrats together.

That tie involved the Morgan banking interests. Benjamin Strong had lived his life in the Morgan ambit. Before being named head of the Federal Reserve, Strong had risen to head of the Bankers Trust Company, a creature of the Morgan bank. When asked to be head of the Fed, he was persuaded to take the job by two of his best friends, Henry P. Davison and Dwight Morrow, both partners of J.P. Morgan & Co.

The Federal Reserve System arrived at a good time for the Morgans. It was needed to finance America’s participation in World War I, a participation strongly supported by the Morgans, who played a major role in bringing the Wilson administration into the war. The Morgans, heavily invested in rail securities, had been caught short by the boom in industrial stocks that emerged at the turn of the century. Consequently, much of their position in investment-banking was being eroded by Kuhn, Loeb & Co., which had been faster off the mark on investment in industrial securities.

World War I meant economic boom or collapse for the Morgans. The House of Morgan was the fiscal agent for the Bank of England: it had the underwriting concession for all sales of British and French bonds in the United States during the war, and it helped finance US arms and munitions sales to Britain and France. The House of Morgan had a very heavy investment in an Anglo-French victory and a German-Austrian defeat. Kuhn, Loeb, on the other hand, was pro-German, and therefore was tied more to the fate of the Central Powers.

The cement binding Strong and Norman was the Morgan connection. Not only was the House of Morgan intimately wrapped up in British finance, but Norman himself — as well as his grandfather — in earlier days had worked in New York for the powerful investment banking firm of Brown Brothers, and hence had developed close personal ties with the New York banking community. For Benjamin Strong, helping Britain meant helping the House of Morgan to shore up the internally contradictory monetary structure it had constructed for the postwar world.

The result was inflationary credit, a speculative boom that could not last, and the Great Crash whose 50th anniversary we observe this year. After Strong’s death in late 1928, the new Federal Reserve authorities, while confused on many issues, were no longer consistent servitors of Britain and the Morgans. The deliberate and consistent policy of inflation came to an end, and a corrective depression soon arrived.

There are two mysteries about the Great Depression, mysteries having two separate and distinct solutions. One is, why the crash? Why the sudden crash and depression in the midst of boom and seemingly permanent prosperity? We have seen the answer: inflationary credit expansion propelled by the Federal Reserve System in the service of various motives, including helping Britain and the House of Morgan.

But there is another vital and very different problem. Given the crash, why did the recovery take so long? Usually, when a crash or financial panic strikes, the economic and financial depression, be it slight or severe, is over in a few months or a year or two at the most. After that, economic recovery will have arrived. The crucial difference between earlier depressions and that of 1929 was that the 1929 crash became chronic and seemed permanent.

What is seldom realized is that depressions, despite their evident hardship on so many, perform an important corrective function. They serve to eliminate the distortions introduced into the economy by an inflationary boom. When the boom is over, the many distortions that have entered the system become clear: prices and wage rates have been driven too high, and much unsound investment has taken place, particularly in capital-goods industries.

The recession or depression serves to lower the swollen prices and to liquidate the unsound and uneconomic investments; it directs resources into those areas and industries that will most-effectively serve consumer demands — and were not allowed to do so during the artificial boom. Workers previously misdirected into uneconomic production, unstable at best, will, as the economy corrects itself, end up in more secure and productive employment.

The recession must be allowed to perform its work of liquidation and restoration as quickly as possible, so that the economy can be allowed to recover from boom and depression and get back to a healthy footing. Before 1929, this hands-off policy was precisely what all US governments had followed, and hence depressions, however sharp, would disappear after a year or so.

But when the Great Crash hit, America had recently elected a new kind of president. Until the past decade, historians have regarded Herbert Clark Hoover as the last of the laissez-faire presidents. Instead, he was the first New Dealer.

Hoover had his bipartisan aura, and was devoted to corporatist cartelization under the aegis of big government; indeed, he originated the New Deal farm-price-support program. His New Deal specifically centered on his program for fighting depressions. Before he assumed office, Hoover determined that should a depression strike during his term of office, he would use the massive powers of the federal government to combat it. No more would the government, as in the past, pursue a hands-off policy.

As Hoover himself recalled the crash and its aftermath,

The primary question at once arose as to whether the President and the federal government should undertake to investigate and remedy the evils. … No President before had ever believed that there was a governmental responsibility in such cases. … Presidents steadfastly had maintained that the federal government was apart from such eruptions … therefore, we had to pioneer a new field.

In his acceptance speech for the presidential renomination in 1932, Herbert Hoover summed it up:

We might have done nothing. … Instead, we met the situation with proposals to private business and to Congress of the most gigantic program of economic defense and counterattack ever evolved in the history of the Republic. We put it into action. … No government in Washington has hitherto considered that it held so broad a responsibility for leadership in such times.

The massive Hoover program was, indeed, a characteristically New Deal one: vigorous action to keep up wage rates and prices, to expand public works and government deficits, to lend money to failing businesses to try to keep them afloat, and to inflate the supply of money and credit to try to stimulate purchasing power and recovery. Herbert Hoover during the 1920s had pioneered the proto-Keynesian idea that high wages are necessary to assure sufficient purchasing power and a healthy economy. The notion led him to artificially raising wages — and consequently to aggravating the unemployment problem — during the depression.

As soon as the stock market crashed, Hoover called in all the leading industrialists in the country for a series of White House conferences in which he successfully bludgeoned the industrialists, under the threat of coercive government action, into propping up wage rates — and hence causing massive unemployment — while prices were falling sharply. After Hoover’s term, Franklin D. Roosevelt simply continued and expanded Hoover’s policies across the board, adding considerably more coercion along the way. Between them, the two New Deal presidents managed the unprecedented feat of making the depression last a decade, until we were lifted out of it by our entry into World War II.

If Benjamin Strong got us into a depression and Herbert Hoover and Franklin D. Roosevelt kept us in it, what was the role in all this of the nation’s economists, watchdogs of our economic health? Unsurprisingly, most economists, during the depression and ever since, have been much more part of the problem than of the solution. During the 1920s, establishment economists, led by Professor Irving Fisher of Yale, hailed the 20s as the start of a “New Era,” one in which the new Federal Reserve System would ensure permanently stable prices, avoiding either booms or busts.

Unfortunately, the Fisherites, in their quest for stability, failed to realize that the trend of the free and unhampered market is always toward lower prices as productivity rises and mass markets develop for particular products. Keeping the price level stable in an era of rising productivity, as in the 1920s, requires a massive artificial expansion of money and credit. Focusing only on wholesale prices, Strong and the economists of the 1920s were willing to engender artificial booms in real estate and stocks, as well as malinvestments in capital goods, so long as the wholesale price level remained constant.

As a result, Irving Fisher and the leading economists of the 1920s failed to recognize that a dangerous inflationary boom was taking place. When the crash came, Fisher and his disciples of the Chicago School again pinned the blame on the wrong culprit. Instead of realizing that the depression process should be left alone to work itself out as rapidly as possible, Fisher and his colleagues laid the blame on the deflation after the crash and demanded a reinflation (or “reflation”) back to 1929 levels.

In this way, even before Keynes, the leading economists of the day managed to miss the problem of inflation and cheap credit and to demand policies that only prolonged the depression and made it worse. After all, Keynesianism did not spring forth full-blown with the publication of Keynes’s General Theory in 1936.

We are still pursuing the policies of the 1920s that led to eventual disaster. The Federal Reserve is still inflating the money supply and inflates it even further with the merest hint that a recession is in the offing. The Fed is still trying to fuel a perpetual boom while avoiding a correction on the one hand or a great deal of inflation on the other.

In a sense, things have gotten worse. For while the hard-money economists of the 1920s and 1930s wished to retain and tighten up the gold standard, the “hard-money” monetarists of today scorn gold, are happy to rely on paper currency, and feel that they are boldly courageous for proposing not to stop the inflation of money altogether, but to limit the expansion to a supposedly fixed amount.

Those who ignore the lessons of history are doomed to repeat it — except that now, with gold abandoned and each nation able to print currency ad lib, we are likely to wind up, not with a repeat of 1929, but with something far worse: the holocaust of runaway inflation that ravaged Germany in 1923 and many other countries during World War II. To avoid such a catastrophe we must have the resolve and the will to cease the inflationary expansion of credit, and to force the Federal Reserve System to stop purchasing assets, and thereby to stop its continued generation of chronic, accelerating inflation.

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