Thursday, February 28, 2013

china debt bomb By Ruchir Sharma

Six years ago, Chinese Premier Wen Jiabao cautioned that China's economy is "unstable, unbalanced, uncoordinated and unsustainable." China has since doubled down on the economic model that prompted his concern.
Mr. Wen spoke out in an attempt to change the course of an economy dangerously dependent on one lever to generate growth: heavy investment in the roads, factories and other infrastructure that have helped make China a manufacturing superpower. Then along came the 2008 global financial crisis. To keep China's economy growing, panicked officials launched a half-trillion-dollar stimulus and ordered banks to fund a new wave of investment. Investment has risen as a share of gross domestic product to 48%—a record for any large country—from 43%.
Even more staggering is the amount of credit that China unleashed to finance this investment boom. Since 2007, the amount of new credit generated annually has more than quadrupled to $2.75 trillion in the 12 months through January this year. Last year, roughly half of the new loans came from the "shadow banking system," private lenders and credit suppliers outside formal lending channels. These outfits lend to borrowers—often local governments pushing increasingly low-quality infrastructure projects—who have run into trouble paying their bank loans.
Since 2008, China's total public and private debt has exploded to more than 200% of GDP—an unprecedented level for any developing country. Yet the overwhelming consensus still sees little risk to the financial system or to economic growth in China.
That view ignores the strong evidence of studies launched since 2008 in a belated attempt by the major global financial institutions to understand the origin of financial crises. The key, more than the level of debt, is the rate of increase in debt—particularly private debt. (Private debt in China includes all kinds of quasi-state borrowers, such as local governments and state-owned corporations.)
On the most important measures of this rate, China is now in the flashing-red zone. The first measure comes from the Bank of International Settlements, which found that if private debt as a share of GDP accelerates to a level 6% higher than its trend over the previous decade, the acceleration is an early warning of serious financial distress. In China, private debt as a share of GDP is now 12% above its previous trend, and above the peak levels seen before credit crises hit Japan in 1989, Korea in 1997, the U.S. in 2007 and Spain in 2008.
The second measure comes from the International Monetary Fund, which found that if private credit grows faster than the economy for three to five years, the increasing ratio of private credit to GDP usually signals financial distress. In China, private credit has been growing much faster than the economy since 2008, and the ratio of private credit to GDP has risen by 50 percentage points to 180%, an increase similar to what the U.S. and Japan witnessed before their most recent financial woes.
The bullish consensus seems to think these laws of financial gravity don't apply to China. The bulls say that bank crises typically begin when foreign creditors start to demand their money, and China owes very little to foreigners. Yet in an August 2012 National Bureau of Economic Research paper titled "The Great Leveraging," University of Virginia economist Alan Taylor examined the 79 major financial crises in advanced economies over the past 140 years and found that they are just as likely in countries that rely on domestic savings and owe little to foreign creditors.
The bulls also argue that China can afford to write off bad debts because it sits on more than $3 trillion in foreign-exchange reserves as well as huge domestic savings. However, while some other Asian nations with high savings and few foreign liabilities did avoid bank crises following credit booms, they nonetheless saw economic growth slow sharply.
Following credit booms in the early 1970s and the late 1980s, Japan used its vast financial resources to put troubled lenders on life support. Debt clogged the system and productivity declined. Once the increase in credit peaked, growth fell sharply over the next five years: to 3% from 8% in the 1970s and to 1% from 4% in the 1980s. In Taiwan, following a similar cycle in the early 1990s, the average annual growth rate fell to 6%.
Even if China dodges a financial crisis, then, it is not likely to dodge a slowdown in its increasingly debt-clogged economy. Through 2007, creating a dollar of economic growth in China required just over a dollar of debt. Since then it has taken three dollars of debt to generate a dollar of growth. This is what you normally see in the late stages of a credit binge, as more debt goes to increasingly less productive investments. In China, exports and manufacturing are slowing as more money flows into real-estate speculation. About a third of the bank loans in China are now for real estate, or are backed by real estate, roughly similar to U.S. levels in 2007.
For China to find a more stable growth model, most experts agree that the country needs to balance its investments by promoting greater consumption. The catch is that consumption has been growing at 8% a year for the past decade—faster than in previous miracle economies like Japan's and as fast as it can grow without triggering inflation. Yet consumption is still falling as a share of GDP because investment has been growing even faster.
So rebalancing requires China to cut back on investment and on the rate of increase in debt, which would mean accepting a rate of growth as low as 5% to 6%, well below the current official rate of 8%. In other investment-led, high-growth nations, from Brazil in the 1970s to Malaysia in the 1990s, economic growth typically fell by half in the decade after investment peaked. The alternative is that China tries to sustain an unrealistic growth target, by piling more debt on an already powerful debt bomb.
Mr. Sharma is head of emerging markets at Morgan Stanley Investment Management and author of "Breakout Nations: In Pursuit of the Next Economic Miracles" (Norton, 2012)

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

CAD valuations

There’s yet another angle—a valuation angle—to CAD,measured in proportion to GDP.The latter needs to be converted into dollar terms using the doller-rupee exchange rate.One of the fears expressed about CAD was the sharp rise in the CAD/GDP ratio from 2.6% in FY11 to 4.2% in FY12, 4.6% in April-September FY13, and now projected to be even higher (maybe close to 5%) in FY13.While not in the slightest downplaying the degree of concern, we do need to point out that some of this is due to the weaker rupee.If we convert the H1 FY13 GDP to dollars using the H1 FY12 dollar-rupee (45.3, instead of 54.6 in H1 FY13), the CAD/GDP ratio drops to 3.9%, down from the reported 4.6%. This is not entire notional jugglery.Although it can be argued that the weaker rupee was,in itself,the result of external and internal weaknesses,the recalibration might be the result of lower capital flows (we have seen the CAD had not deteriorated significantly in dollar terms). None of the above is meant to downplay the gravity of India’s high CAD. However,targeted correction measures are urgently needed, which the fuel price rationalisation is beginning to address.High inflation is one of the reasons for the surge in gold demand, which has been the focus of monetary policy. Hopefully, these measures will ameliorate one of India’s key macroeconomic imbalances.
Though previous year on the blog i wrote an article which supports the GDP to debt ratio which still i does and thinks all hype is there about the budget ant the deficit our deficits is not  even close  in alarming zone.
You can go through the previous article.

Friday, February 8, 2013

Defining Recessions and Expansions

Defining Recessions and Expansions
How recessions and expansions are defined. The answer is that there is no exact definition!
In many countries, economists adopt the rule that a recession is a period of at least two consecutive quarters (a quarter is three months), during which aggregate output falls. The two-consecutive-quarter requirement is designed to avoid classifying brief hiccups in the economy’s performance, with no lasting significance, as recessions.
Sometimes, however, this definition seems too strict. For example, an economy that hasthree months of sharply declining output, then three months of slightly positive growth, then another three months of rapid decline, should surely be considered to have endured a nine-month recession.
In the United States, economists try to avoid such misclassifications by assigning the task of determining when a recession begins and ends to an independent panel of experts at the National Bureau of Economic Research (NBER). This panel looks at a variety of economic indicators, with the main focus on employment and produc-
Year
tion, but ultimately, the panel makes a judgment call. Sometimes this judgment is controversial. In fact, there is lingering controversy over the 2001 recession. According to the NBER, that recession began in March 2001 and ended in November 2001, when output began rising. Some critics argue, however, that the recession really began several months earlier, when industrial production began falling. Other critics argue that the recession didn’t really end in 2001 because employment continued to fall and the job market remained weak for another year and a half.

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Midnight Children

As Indian cinemagoers finally get to see Midnight’s Children, due for general release on February 1, here’s some friendly advice: keep expectations low — I mean really, really low — or else you are likely to feel crushingly disappointed.
Although Salman Rushdie himself has written the screenplay, it is a parody of his great novel. After the first half, enlivened by scenes of levity such as Dr. Aadam Aziz examining Naseem limb by limb through a hole in the purdah, it descends into chaos and boredom. The weakest bits are those that deal with serious politics — the trauma of Partition, the break-up of Pakistan, Indira Gandhi’s emergency and its excesses, all of which lie at the heart of the book. The focus, instead, is on its farcical elements.
It is cringing to see one of the most celebrated works of the 20th century reduced to that tackiest of Bollywood clichés: babies switched at birth setting off a chain of unintended consequences.
The novel’s most magical moment is when Saleem Sinai arrives into the world exactly at the same time as independent India is being born and thus becomes “handcuffed to history” for the rest of his life. In the film, however, it comes through as a cheap gag: we see images of hundreds of “midnight’s children” comically juxtaposed with exploding fireworks to welcome India’s freedom from colonial rule. And then comes the “Big Switch” instigated by a cardboard revolutionary with some oddly reactionary ideas about how to achieve social justice.
You might say, but all that is in the book. Yes, and that’s the problem: Midnight’s Children is unfilmable. A sprawling fantasy of epic proportions, hinged on an abstract idea, it is a film-maker’s nightmare. The world’s best directors — and Deepa Mehta is not one of them though is a good director — will struggle to deal with the sheer sweep and ambition of Midnight’s Children with its surreal subplots and a jerky narrative.
Rushdie as screenplay writer
Mehta has admitted that compressing such a big book into a two-hour film was hugely “challenging” and that she was keen for Rushdie to write the screenplay precisely because she felt that he would be less “intimidated by the process of elimination.” Rushdie himself has said it was “heartbreaking,” over how much he had to leave out in the end. With the stuffing taken out, we are left with a film that bears only a faint resemblance to its source material.
“With the book’s wryly witty tone mostly gone, all that’s left is plot — diminished yet recitative, like episodic milestones duly checked off on a laboured journey. There’s scant flow and consequently, from us, scant engagement. We look at the unfolding spectacle with our eyes wide but our emotions closed — so much to see, so little to feel,” is how Toronto’s The Globe and Mail described it when it was shown at the Toronto International Film Festival.
‘No focus’
An American critic wrote that it struggles “to incorporate most of Rushdie’s teeming subplots” and fails to find “a narrative focus.”
In Britain, the reaction has been similarly lukewarm. It has been variously described as “unfocused,” “meandering,” and “plodding” with Rushdie’s screenplay flagged as the main problem.
“Salman Rushdie isn’t everyone’s idea of a literary genius. But if you admired his Booker Prize-winning novel and find this film lacking, it can only be largely the writer’s own fault since 60 years of history and 600 sprawling pages have been compressed by him into a little less than two and a half hours on screen,” said the London Evening Standard.
Though comparatively more sympathetic, The Times also pointed out that “Rushdie’s screenplay tends to get bogged down in moments of narrative stagnation.”
A straw poll by me at a central London theatre where I saw it revealed that those who had read the novel found the film too slight (``it jumps from scene to scene,’’ said one) and those who hadn’t struggled to understand what it was all about.
The truth is that Rushdie’s magic realism is not the stuff of cinema or indeed theatre as we saw when the Royal Shakespeare Company staged it in London in 2003. Academic and writer Germaine Greer famously likened it to a tacky “costume drama.” The play was criticised for trying to squeeze “huge narrative gallons into a pint pot.”
Rushdie was heavily involved with that production too. Wiser by experience, he has tried to cut out the flab this time but has gone too far in the opposite direction. All of which confirms the impossibility of translating Midnight’s Children into a visual format — it becomes either too chaotic or too lean with all the meat gone.
The ultimate tragedy is that thanks to Rushdie’s persistence there is a danger that his greatest achievement could end up being remembered only as a bad play or a bad film rather than as a literary masterpiece.