The Dollar Went for a Walk and Prices Started Running | El dólar salió a caminar y los precios a correr

By Gonzalo Chávez, Brujula Digital:

These are anxious times in Bolivia and around the world. Some people change their cellphone and expect their love life to improve the next day, with all their followers suddenly seeing them as a heartthrob. Others start a new diet on Monday and by Tuesday complain because they still do not have Cristiano Ronaldo’s abs or Belinda’s wasp waist.

Exchange-rate regimes work exactly the same way: we have had a flexible exchange rate for only 13 days, yet some are already predicting economic Armageddon while others proclaim the arrival of a monetary paradise. Neither is true. In economics, almost two weeks is barely the movie trailer. So take it easy. For libertarian types: relax, the saints are being carried along just fine.

To begin your Sunday with a pearl of economic wisdom, it is worth clarifying a small difference in terminology that actually reflects a major difference in concepts. When the Central Bank sets the price of the dollar, we speak of a devaluation or revaluation, because it is an administrative decision. But when the market determines the dollar’s price, as it does today, we should speak of a depreciation or appreciation of the currency. It may seem like a simple change of vocabulary, but it actually represents a complete change in the rules of the game.

Imagine a marketplace. If there are only 10 chickens and 100 buyers show up, the price of chicken will rise. Not because chickens have become more patriotic or more neoliberal, but because more people want to buy than are willing to sell. The same applies to dollars. Today, demand for foreign currency exceeds supply.

Importers need dollars to bring in goods, while exporters are not yet generating enough foreign-currency income to fully satisfy the market. The result is predictable: the dollar’s price gradually rises. That is what has happened in recent days, with the exchange rate moving from Bs 9.73 to Bs 10.40.

But markets do not function solely through numbers. Above all, they function through stories—or, in modern terminology, narratives.

Bolivia carries a very particular economic memory. Those who lived through hyperinflation remember that the dollar became almost an oracle: if it rose, every other price followed. Hyperinflation turned the dollar into the language of prices. As the Bolivian peso lost its functions as a store of value, medium of exchange, and unit of account, relative prices ceased to be expressed in the national currency and instead became indexed to the exchange rate.

This was not a whim of merchants or business owners; it was a survival mechanism. In an economy where money was melting away every day, pricing goods in dollars was the only way to preserve value and prevent inflation from destroying economic logic.

Later came the “Bolsín,” the older cousin of today’s flexible exchange-rate system, which moved according to supply and demand for dollars while remaining partially controlled by the Central Bank. Then came more than 15 years of a fixed exchange rate, and the country grew accustomed to thinking of the dollar as a statue—always standing in the same place. Now the statue has started walking again. And that makes people nervous. The flexible exchange-rate regime came into effect on June 29.

The problem now is that many economic agents—merchants, importers, companies, banks, and individuals—have once again begun treating the dollar as if it were the weather forecast. If the dollar rises by ten cents, some immediately feel compelled to raise prices, even for products that have never seen a dollar anywhere in their production chain, such as a haircut or goods produced entirely with domestic inputs. Economists call these non-tradable goods. Tradable goods, by contrast, are those that can be imported or exported.

Watching the exchange rate has become a national sport: before checking costs, people check the dollar quote. I must make a public complaint. No one greets my friend Nostra Chávez anymore. Everyone only asks for his exchange-rate forecast. That is psychological dollarization.

At this point, politics enters the picture. From day one, some sectors and supporters of the so-called “process of change” began repeating that devaluation explains all current inflation. It is an appealing explanation because it revives memories of hyperinflation and is easy to understand. Precisely for that reason, it is far too simplistic.

Inflation never has a single parent. Fiscal policy, monetary policy, expectations, road blockades, production costs, wage increases, fuel-price hikes, and many other factors all play a role.

While some groups promoted the simple narrative of “devaluation equals inflation,” the government chose the noble sport of remaining silent or speaking only sparingly. And in economics, as in politics, when you do not explain reality, someone else will explain it for you. The intellectual machinery of the MAS movement, in all its variations, began loudly proclaiming that small currency depreciations would inevitably lead to hyperinflation.

Yet the real debate is not about the dollar’s price itself, but what lies behind it. An exchange-rate regime does not work by decree; it works when the economy believes in it. For a flexible exchange-rate system to generate stability, the economy must be capable of producing more dollars through exports, investment, and loans. It also requires a manageable fiscal deficit, clear rules, strong institutions, and above all, confidence.

A great deal of confidence, credibility, reputation, and, especially, predictability regarding exchange-rate policy.

That is why it is difficult to build credibility when economic measures appear like episodes of a television series released without a schedule. One measure is announced one day, another three days later, and a third the following week.

This gradualist approach—better known as the homeopathic strategy, drop by drop—leaves fundamental questions unanswered. Will the Central Bank intervene if the dollar surges? How much fluctuation will it allow? What will serve as the new anchor against inflation? Markets do not demand omniscience; they demand rules.

In reality, Bolivia has not merely changed its exchange-rate regime. It is attempting to change the way businesses, families, and investors form expectations. That process does not take two weeks. It takes months, sometimes years.

For that reason, it is wise to lower the volume on both the prophets of disaster and the sellers of miracles. A flexible exchange rate will not solve Bolivia’s economic problems by itself, but neither will it automatically create them. It will be only as good—or as bad—as the broader economic policies that accompany it.

Because at the end of the day, the exchange rate is like a car’s dashboard. One can obsessively watch the speedometer every five seconds, but if the engine is failing, the problem was never the needle.

Gonzalo Chávez is an economist.

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