The most-often cited metric of economic success more often than not simply tells us what we want to hear – or what the West wants us to hear
A few weeks after the Russia-Ukraine war began, Belgian economist Paul De Grauwe penned an article for the website of the London School of Economics with the title ‘Russia cannot win the war’. No military specialist, De Grauwe based his conclusion on some simple math: Russia’s GDP was roughly equivalent to the combined output of Belgium and the Netherlands. Therefore, he claimed, Russia is an “economic dwarf in Europe.” Its military operation was thus doomed.
De Grauwe was hardly alone in dismissing Russia on similar grounds. Who has not heard Russia’s economy compared in GDP terms to some modest European country? Needless to say, the article has not aged well. But the point here isn’t to refute De Grauwe – subsequent events have done that well enough. More interesting is to probe the deeper – and mostly unexamined – roots of this particular mode of thinking.
Really the questions boil down to: does such a reliance on GDP even make any sense anymore? And if not, why have we doggedly stuck with an economic indicator whose stature far exceeds its explanative power (and creates a lot of distortions)?
GDP emerged in the 1930s as a tool for policymakers trying to quantify the national economy during the Great Depression. Credited with formalizing GDP was the Russian-born American mathematician and economist Simon Kuznets.
But he was explicit about its limitations: “the welfare of a nation can scarcely be inferred from a measurement of national income.” And this was back when national income mostly entailed real productivity and not stuff like trading derivatives about the weather.
Around the time of World War II, when economies were mostly industrial and debt levels low, GDP was a decent proxy for capacity. After the war, GDP became entrenched in the grand architecture of the post-war order: Bretton Woods, the IMF, and the triumph of Keynesian macroeconomic theory.
Keynesianism sees the economy as a thermostat problem: if total demand is too low and output falls, the government must raise demand through fiscal spending. Its entire policy program depends on measuring, managing, and stimulating aggregate demand – exactly what GDP claims to quantify. Governments could therefore read the pulse of the economy through GDP, inject stimulus when demand faltered, and withdraw it when inflation loomed.
However, in the 1970s the Keynesian consensus broke down, largely due to the problem of stagflation. This is a combination of high inflation and high unemployment that Keynesian theory couldn’t explain because its models assumed inflation and unemployment moved in opposite directions.
On to the scene came the neoliberalism of the 1980s: Reagan, Thatcher, and the Washington Consensus. Deregulation, privatization, and financial liberalization were sold as growth-enhancing reforms, for which GDP became the proof. If GDP rose, which of course it inevitably did, the reforms were “working.” But this represented a subtle shift. GDP had morphed from a diagnostic instrument into a legitimating symbol of a new set of otherwise dubious-looking policies. To put it more simply, Keynesians used GDP to fine-tune the economy; neoliberals used it to justify their ideology.
By this point, GDP was tracking a lot less productive output and a lot more monetary transactions pumped up by leverage. Yet policymakers, investors, and the media continued to treat it as the authoritative measure of real prosperity. Its symbolic prestige actually increased even as its empirical validity declined. This is a point we will return to.
A quick side note: Many people recognize one of the superficial shortcomings of GDP – its failure to adjust for differences in price levels between countries – and therefore prefer GDP measured in Purchasing Power Parity (PPP) terms. But switching to PPP doesn’t solve the underlying problem, because it leaves untouched the structural distortions within GDP itself: financialization and debt. These are the factors that create the widening gap between real productive output and monetary transactions.
Because GDP treats all spending equally, regardless of whether it comes out of income or borrowing, it cannot distinguish between genuine expansions of productive capacity and debt-fueled transactional churn.
Underlying this is a deeper theoretical fallacy: the modern macroeconomic framework still treats financial intermediation (think Goldman Sachs) as a neutral, efficient allocator of capital, and therefore counts much financial activity as genuine value-added. Let’s say it together with a straight face: investment banking is about efficiently getting capital to the right places in the real economy.
That this assumption persists in today’s hyper-financialized G7 can only be explained by a civilizational-level blind spot. Everyone intuitively understands that flipping a piece of real estate, or repeatedly securitizing the same pool of mortgages, adds to measured GDP without creating any value. These transactions expand balance sheets, not productive capacity, yet GDP tallies them as if a turbine had been manufactured or a bridge built.
But if the standard measure is so vulnerable to distortion, the obvious question is why more effort isn’t devoted to stripping out the debt-driven noise. Yet very few mainstream economists even venture down this path. One man who does is Tim Morgan, a financial analyst who has done important work in exploring the relationship between economic growth and energy. He developed a proprietary metric that he calls C-GDP, which is an estimate of underlying economic output after removing the inflationary effect of debt and credit. Over 2004-2024, Morgan calculates global GDP growth at 96% using the conventional measure, but this falls to just 33% on a C-GDP basis.
This is a fairly radical re-calibration of growth figures that lays bare the fact that much of the recorded growth of recent decades came via credit expansion, asset inflation, and consumption rather than new physical output. Morgan calculates that each dollar of reported growth has been accompanied by an increase of at least $9 of net new financial commitments.
Morgan does not (at least that I am aware of) provide a country breakdown of his C-GDP model, but it is not a stretch to posit that the GDP-inflating effect of debt and financialization is most prominent in the G7.
Finance, insurance, real estate, rental, and leasing combined make up just over 20% of US GDP, while household and federal debt levels are at record highs, and the ratio of financial assets to GDP has exploded since the 1980s. Europe is not fundamentally any different. Stripping out debt-inflated transactions would entail a shrinking of measured GDP for both BRICS and the West. But the extent of shrinkage would differ.
Many will correctly point out that China and parts of the BRICS world are also heavily indebted. However, it bears noticing how the link between credit and real output differs from the Western pattern. Much of the credit in China, for instance, has gone into tangible physical assets – infrastructure, housing, factories, power systems – even if there is certainly some overbuilding and malinvestment.
So even if China’s credit system is overextended, a significant portion of the borrowing has produced physical capital, not just paper claims. China’s system is thus internally leveraged but still anchored in actual real trade surpluses. In the West, meanwhile, credit creation is market-driven and profit-seeking, and also heavily intermediated by private banks and financial markets. Debt expansion primarily supports asset speculation and consumption.
This is the hidden weakness in Western economies. Not just has industrial production been largely outsourced – a phenomenon at least acknowledged – but a significant share of what passes for economic output is simply a mirage. And if we think of debt as a claim on future economic output, does anybody actually believe that future output will be sufficient to make good the huge pile of debt G7 economies are sitting on? Of course not.
All of this should be entirely obvious. And the distortions should be obvious. We know what type of economy GDP was created to measure. We know how the structure of Western economies (in particular) has changed. We know that buying and selling derivatives generates no real economic value. So why do we stubbornly cling to GDP?
This question cannot be answered in economic terms alone. To make sense of it, we must depart from the safe confines of economics and examine the bigger paradigm in which our current economic assumptions are intelligible. This is where we return to the notion of the “symbolic” prestige of GDP.
Policymakers and economists in the 21st century fancy themselves paragons of rationality presiding over technocratic systems. This is an inviolable dogma of our time. In reality, we are just as bound by our era’s unquestioned assumptions as any past civilization. Our economic theories are not neutral, objective, or universal; they are a constructed lens that conveys our particular values and accommodates our particular blind spots. GDP is a prime example of this.
An alien economist observing our current civilization would be baffled by how little attention we pay to the distorting impact of debt on our most sacred metric. Even our most widely used attempt to account for debt, the debt-to-GDP ratio, is inadequate precisely because one side of the equation (GDP) is itself inflated by the very thing being measured. The alien’s conclusion: we make no real distinction between debt-fueled growth and organic, sustainable growth. We must be a civilization with a profoundly short-term outlook.
GDP does still correlate reasonably well with employment, consumption, and tax revenues – variables that matter greatly for fiscal and monetary management but say almost nothing about sustainability or the long-term health of an economy. An influx of debt can drive up all three – and GDP with it – while leaving future generations with an albatross.
Yet our fixation on these immediate indicators is not accidental; it mirrors the deeper essence of modern democratic systems, particularly in the West, where this ethos is found in its most concentrated and potent form. Politicians must survive election cycles by promising quick fixes to the uncomprehending masses, central bankers must stabilize the next quarter, and markets increasingly live from headline to headline. Everything is skewed toward the here and now. This seems so natural to us that it hardly ever occurs to anyone to question it.
Nor does it particularly occur to us that the way we think about the economy is inextricably embedded in a deeper logic. GDP merely tells us what we want to hear – and what is allowed to be told within the prevailing civilizational ethos. Nothing more, nothing less.
Any civilizational ethos is a touch metaphysical, whether it admits it or not. Whereas the Roman Emperor Constantine saw a cross in the sky and believed he heard the words: “by this sign you shall conquer,” the Belgian economist De Grauwe, utterly unaware of his own mystical bent, opened a spreadsheet and said “by these figures Russia will not conquer.”
