Enron got a hard lesson in this. As negative feedback rolled in, they went
from being the seventh-largest firm in America to ignominious bankruptcy in half
a year. Though on the surface this collapse seemed sudden, in reality it had been
brewing for over a year. As Wall Street analysts began raising questions about
Enron's spooky accounting methods and the quality of their earnings, its stock
drifted downward. Enron began 2001 at around $80 but sagged to $40 by October
the month when it announced a $600 million "earnings restatement" and some
accounting "mistakes," kicking off an investigation into its now-famous
book-cooking. Once it became clear that their superhuman earnings growth was just
a rococo con game, investors dragged Enron into the street and shot it. In a
matter of weeks, their stock went to pennies, was officially delisted from the
New York Stock Exchange, and all remaining assets were trucked into bankruptcy
proceedings. That's how negative feedback is supposed to work.
That Enron
disappeared once it was identified as an economic loser may seem trivial. But in
much of the world it's not. The notion that poor investments should get weeded
out and dropped is surprisingly controversial in many European and Asian
economies. And it explains a lot about their economic well-being.
One
obvious example of this is Japan. The single most important factor behind Japan's
perpetual recession is that it won't let bad investments fail. Enron would never
have happened if it had been headquartered in Tokyo. And that's exactly their
problem. No matter how many billions of yen the Japanese Finance Ministry pours
into Keynesian stimulus packages, or how close to zero it cuts interest rates,
there will never be a Japanese recovery until the real problem is dealt with.
Economically unprofitable firms that are burning off resources from the rest of
the Japanese economy need to go away.
This isn't likely to happen any
time soon. Propping up lagging firms has practically become an official function
of the Japanese government, and one which voters have come to expect and value.
After all, disguising economic losses puts off painful adjustments, preserves
jobs, and gives the illusion of short-term stability.
This policy has had
staggering consequences. There is now an entire generation of Japanese youth who
have never lived outside a recession. The current estimate of nonperforming
Japanese bank loans in other words, loans on which borrowers are unable
even to pay interest, let alone repay capital is in the range of $750
billion. That's an amount equal to the GDP of Chile, Taiwan, Belgium, and then
some. The American Enterprise Institute pegs the market value of the entire
Japanese banking sector at a cool negative $1 trillion dollars.
This is
predictable. Over time, "loser-free" economies like Japan's inevitably become
cluttered with losers, and these unprofitable laggards burn off real wealth from
the rest of society. These economic sinkholes can be put to rest now or later,
but not never. Subsidies only postpone the ultimate day of reckoning. And the
longer it's put off, the more jarring the adjustment will be.
Japan
doesn't need a stimulus package. It needs bankruptcies. That's the only way idle
capital can be reallocated to profitable uses. The U.S. economy does this well,
and Enron's rapid liquidation proves it.
Ethics and Enron
The
second lesson of Enron is simple: Business ethics matter. They are not just
window dressing or "fuzzy" public-relations gimmicks. They are what help our
economy function in the absence of government intervention, and make it morally
defensible against critics.
Defenders of free markets sometimes overlook
the impact of individual morality on the marketplace. There's a tendency to view
markets as wild arenas of ethical egoism, constrained only by formal legal rules.
This may be due to bad economists not teaching the difference between
self-interest and selfishness, or maybe too many people thinking Ayn Rand's
novels depict anything like what actually happens in business. Whatever its
origins, it is false. Formal law matters, but informal law matters more. And
ethics are the informal law that serves as the backbone of the free-market
economy.
| The $2.4 million Enron
poured into political campaigns in 2000 may win the dubious distinction of being
their worst investment of all. |
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Whether these ethical values are called "Judeo-Christian" or simply "Western,"
they operate in every legitimate market in the U.S. simple things like
honesty, the presumption of fairness, and promise-keeping. The further we stray
from these basic ethical guidelines, the more everything we know about
free-market economics becomes false. And our faith in that market becomes more of
a blind one. Enron had no illusions about its fraudulent dealings. The
release of internal memos in one of which an employee worried that they
would "implode in a wave of accounting scandals" made that clear. There is
perhaps no industry more dependent on transparency and informal ethical rules
than accounting, and yet Arthur Andersen, Enron's independent auditor and
co-conspirator, ordered the destruction of reams of incriminating documents.
It's reassuring that so many investors put their cynicism and moral
relativism aside long enough to mercilessly pummel Enron for its transgressions.
And it all happened in the unregulated marketplace just as free-market
advocates predicted it would. The final lesson of Enron is probably the
most surprising. And as the facts unravel it may ultimately turn out to be
illusory. But for now, it's reassuring that in an age when White House bedrooms
and presidential pardons have their price, the Bush administration isn't offering
a taxpayer bailout. Or helping arrange credit from banks. Or doing much of
anything else except issuing subpoenas and distancing themselves from Enron's
fallout. It appears that having a web of Beltway connections in both
parties and being the single biggest contributor to President Bush's political
campaigns wasn't enough to buy Enron an economic bailout. It's sweet justice that
the company that lobbied so heavily for power deregulation is now being left to
its own devices in that market. The $2.4 million Enron poured into political
campaigns in 2000 may win the dubious distinction of being their worst investment
of all. In Enron's waning days, executives' repeated calls to Commerce
Secretary Donald Evans, Treasury Secretary Paul O'Neill, and Treasury
Undersecretary Peter Fisher were essentially ignored. Even calls by former
Treasury Chief Robert Rubin chairman of Enron's biggest lender were
blown off. Now that's what I call a principled commitment to deregulation.
Treasury Secretary O'Neill showed unusual clarity of thought regarding the Enron
debacle in an appearance on "Fox News Sunday." "Companies come and go," he said,
adding that "part of the genius of capitalism" is that "people get to make good
decisions or bad decisions. And they get to pay the consequences or to enjoy the
fruits of their decisions. That's the way the system works." That may go down in
history as the single most sensible remark ever uttered by a government
employee. And so, the story of Enron may end happily. Sort of. The bad
guys lose their shirts, California Gov. Grey Davis gets his wish about Kenneth
Lay sharing an 8'x10' cell with a guy who says "Hi Honey, my name's Spike", and
free-market economics still holds. This may not mean much to the employees whose
401(k)s got vaporized, but it's good news for defenders of free markets. More
importantly, it's bad news for those peddling the bogus story of Enron as a case
of "market failure."
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