When the Law of Supply and Demand Isn’t Fair
By Richard Thaler
For an economist, one of the most jarring sights during the
early weeks of the coronavirus crisis in the United States was the
spectacle of bare shelves in sections of the supermarket.
There was no toilet paper or hand sanitizer. Pasta, flour and
even yeast could be hard to find in the early weeks of social
distancing, as many people decided to take up baking. Of far
greater concern, hospitals could not buy enough of the masks, gowns
and ventilators required to safely treat Covid-19 patients.
What happened to the laws of supply and demand? Why didn’t
prices rise enough to clear the market, as economic models
predict?
A paper that I wrote with my friends Daniel Kahneman, a
psychologist, and Jack Knetsch, an economist, explored this
problem. We found that the answer may be summed up with a single
word, one you won’t find in the standard supply-and-demand models:
fairness. Basically, it just isn’t socially acceptable to raise
prices in an emergency.
We asked people questions about the actions of hypothetical
firms. For example: “A hardware store has been selling snow shovels
for $15. The morning after a blizzard the store raises the price of
snow shovels to $20.”
Fully 82 percent of our respondents judged this to be unfair.
The respondents were Canadians, known for their politeness, but the
general findings have now been replicated and confirmed in studies
around the world.
Most companies implicitly understand that abiding by the
social norms of fairness should be part of their business model. In
the current crisis, large retail chains have responded to the
shortages of toilet paper not by raising the price but by limiting
the amount each customer can buy. And Amazon and eBay prohibited
what was viewed as price gouging on their sites.
We have seen similar behavior after hurricanes. As soon as a
storm ends, there is typically enormous demand for goods like
bottled water and plywood. Big retailers like Home Depot and
Walmart anticipate this, sending trucks loaded with supplies to
regions just outside the danger zone, ready to be deployed. Then,
when it is safe, the stores provide water for free and sell the
plywood at the list price or lower.
At the same time, some “entrepreneurs” are likely to behave
differently. They see a disaster as an opportunity and so will fill
up trucks with plywood near their homes, drive to the storm site
and sell their goods for whatever price they can get.
It is not that large retailers are intrinsically more ethical
than the entrepreneurs; it is simply that they have different time
horizons. The large companies are playing a long game, and by
behaving “fairly” they are hoping to retain customer loyalty after
the emergency. The entrepreneurs are just interested in a quick
buck.
Fairness norms help explain the breakdown of supply chains of
medical equipment in the coronavirus crisis. Hospitals normally use
buying associations that make long-term deals with wholesalers to
provide essential supplies. The wholesalers generally want to
preserve these relationships and realize that now would not be a
good time to raise prices. Often, they are contractually obligated
to supply items at prices negotiated before a spike in
demand.
One current example is the N95 face mask. At the onset of the
pandemic, hospitals had long-term contracts to buy them for about
35 cents each, an executive at a New York hospital told me. When
the need for the masks surged, these suppliers were not allowed to
raise the price, even if inclined to do so.
But others along the supply chain could make big profits by
diverting masks to anyone willing to pay top dollar. That left
hospitals in a bind. As the coronavirus spread in New York, the
executive’s hospital searched frantically for masks, eventually
paying an overseas supplier $6 each, for hundreds of thousands of
them, when the regular stock was desperately short.
When anyone tries to reap big profits in an emergency like
this, it can look ugly. Consider the case of two brothers who began
buying hand sanitizer, masks and other scarce commodities on March
1, the day of the first announcement of a Covid-19 death in the
United States. After they sold some of their merchandise at big
markups on Amazon and eBay, these outlets cut them off. Eventually,
after considerable adverse publicity, the brothers decided to
donate their supplies.
Notice that the brothers were making markets more “efficient,”
by buying low and selling high. If instead of arbitraging
coronavirus supplies they had sold shares of airline and hotel
companies and bought shares of Netflix and Zoom, they would simply
have been considered smart traders. But while smart trading may be
fine for investments, it is not considered fair when it involves
essential goods during a pandemic.
One can argue that this social norm is harmful in that it
prevents markets from doing their magic. For example, Tyler Cowen,
the George Mason University economist, has said he wishes it were
OK to raise prices for coronavirus essentials.
“Higher prices discourage panic buying and increase the chance
that the people who truly need particular goods and services have a
greater chance of getting them,” he wrote.
But which people “truly need” N95 masks? What is the right
allocation of masks among well-endowed research hospitals, poorly
funded municipal facilities, nursing homes and food processing
plants? Supply and demand would tell us that the masks should
simply go to the buyer who was willing and able to pay the most for
them. But fairness tells us this can’t be the only
consideration.
As a practical matter for businesses, big and small, that want
to keep operating for the long haul, it makes good sense to obey
the law of fairness. If the next shortage is meat and a store owner
realizes that there is only one package of pork chops left, it
would be unwise sell it at auction to the highest bidder.
Richard H. Thaler is a professor of economics and behavioral
science at the Booth School of Business at the University of
Chicago. Follow him on Twitter: @R_Thaler
Economic Concepts:
scarcity implies competition
ethics
allocation mechanisms
trade-offs
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