Unreported, if my information is correct, are the usurious rates of  
interest
charged by micro-lenders.
BR Note
 
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W Post
 
Microcredit doesn’t end poverty, despite all the  hype
By David Roodman, Published: March 8 | 
Updated: Saturday, March 10, 2012
The idea has a wonderfully simple and powerful appeal: Give a tiny loan to 
a  poor person in a poor nation. Watch her start a small business — whether 
hawking  tomatoes or fattening goats — that puts her and her family on the 
first rung of  a ladder that will elevate them out of poverty and into the 
middle class. Repeat  across the planet. 
Few proposals for economic development have been so durable and so 
celebrated  as microcredit — the provision of business loans as small as $100 
to the 
poor.  Its appeal has spanned the political spectrum, drawing in the left 
with its  subversive promise to empower women in sexist societies and 
enticing the right  with its emphasis on entrepreneurship and individual 
responsibility. The World  Bank and other lending agencies have bought into it, 
as 
have foundations and  countless individual donors. In 2006, microcredit became 
the only economic  development idea to _win a Nobel Peace Prize_ 
(http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/10/13/AR2006101300211.html)
 
, when the laurel went to Muhammad  Yunus and Grameen Bank, the financial 
institution for the poor that he founded  in Bangladesh. 
There has been enough time and evidence now to explore the full impact of  
microcredit in depth, and, set against its vaunted reputation, my verdict is 
 dour: Microcredit rarely transforms lives. Some people do better after 
getting a  small business loan, while some do worse — but very few climb into 
the middle  class. It’s a constructive endeavor, but it has been vastly 
overhyped. And the  hype has undermined the good that the movement can achieve. 
One reason microcredit has soared so high in public esteem is the power of  
the stories its promoters tell. In his memoir, Yunus tells of Murshida, a  
Bangladeshi woman whose husband regularly beat her. One day after he sold 
the  roof of their hut to pay gambling debts, a storm soaked Murshida and her 
three  children. When her husband came home, Murshida confronted him. He 
divorced her  on the spot and threw her and the children out of the house. 
Murshida moved in  with her brother and in time took her first microloan — $30 
to buy a goat and  sell the milk. With larger credits, she started a business 
sewing and selling  scarves. Eventually she employed 25 women. 
Such anecdotes are powerful. But that does not make them representative. 
Poor  people who take loans use them in different ways and with different 
outcomes. By  luck or by pluck, some do well, and it is their stories, of 
course, that  microcredit promoters have most often recounted. 
To be fair, microcredit has had more than selective storytelling on its 
side.  Dozens of academic studies in the 1980s and 1990s seemed to validate the 
 anecdotal evidence. Researchers typically surveyed hundreds of families 
and  looked for patterns in the data. Perhaps families that had used 
microcredit also  reported higher earnings, for example. The premier analysis 
was 
funded by the  World Bank and appeared in the prestigious Journal of Political 
Economy in 1998;  through complex statistical methods, it found that 
microcredit cut poverty in  Bangladesh, especially when women received the 
loans. 
One of the researchers  later estimated that 5 percent of Grameen Bank 
borrowers climbed out of poverty  each year. 
But most such studies had a significant problem: If some households with  
higher borrowing also display higher earnings, can we really know which is  
causing which? Does credit make households less poor, or does being less poor 
 make them more apt to borrow money in the first place? 
In recent years, a new generation of development economists has addressed  
this problem by experimenting with microcredit programs, randomly offering 
loans  to some people and not others. Just as in the best drug trials, this 
has allowed  researchers to measure cause and effect more precisely. If, one 
year later,  those who received loans earned more or enrolled more of their 
girls in school,  what factor other than the loans could explain those happy 
outcomes? 
The first randomized studies of microcredit appeared in 2009. _MIT 
economists found _ 
(http://www.povertyactionlab.org/sites/default/files/publications/The%20Miracle%20of%20Microfinance.pdf)
 that in the slums of  the 
megalopolis of Hyderabad, India, small loans caused more families to start  
micro-
businesses such as sewing saris. Existing businesses saw  higher profits. 
But over the 12 to 18 months the researchers tracked, the data  revealed no 
change in bottom-line indicators of poverty, such as household  spending and 
whether children were attending school. Perhaps those who made more  from 
their own businesses earned less in wages outside the home. _A study in 
Manila_ 
(http://www.povertyactionlab.org/sites/default/files/publications/63-%202011.06.10.pdf)
  by American economists  Dean Karlan and Jonathan Zinman also 
found no effect on poverty for families one  to two years after they 
received a loan. 
On the heels of such studies came more bad news. Microcredit bubbles began 
to  reveal themselves as financial bubbles do — by popping, in places such 
as  Nicaragua, Bosnia, Morocco and Pakistan. In Bosnia, for instance, the 
microloans  outstanding shot from $275 million in 2005 to $1 billion in 2008, 
before  slumping to $830 million in 2009 on defaults and write-offs. 
In 2010, amid reports of suicide among overindebted borrowers, the 
government  of the Indian state of Andhra Pradesh ambushed the microcredit 
industry 
there  with a harsh law that all but shut it down. Microlenders must now 
register with  the governments of the districts in which they operate and must 
seek approval  for each loan. This puts much power in the hands of local 
officials, who in some  cases are known for their aptitude in converting such 
leverage into delays and  graft. 
I believe that Andhra Pradesh overreacted in quashing rather than reforming 
 the industry. But in talking to borrowers there in late 2010, it became 
clear to  me that, even if the state was overreacting, it was doing so in 
response to a  real problem. The proliferation of fast-growing microlenders had 
made it easy  for poor men and women to get in over their heads in hundreds 
of dollars of  debt. Not all were wise enough to avoid the trap. 
These bubbles may be the first in history fed more by charity than by 
greed.  Almost all the large-scale financing for microcredit has come from 
private  donors, socially minded investors, public aid agencies and, in India, 
private  banks complying with legal quotas for lending to the poor and 
minorities.  Ironically, almost all were motivated by the idea that microcredit 
was 
a  sure-fire aid to the poor. 
The zeal for microcredit may have undermined the power of the larger  
microfinance movement, which involves the creation of financial services, 
beyond  
just loans, that are available to the poor. Financial services are like 
clean  water and electricity — they are essential to leading a better life. 
Imagine if  you didn’t have access to bank accounts, insurance or mortgages. 
Poor people  need such services more than anyone, because in developing 
countries, poverty  does not just mean low income, it means volatile income. 
The 
poor need to set  aside money in times of plenty and draw it out in lean 
times. Financial services  allow you to save for wedding expenses, borrow for 
funeral costs or insure for  health care. 
The industry should move away from its long-standing focus on credit, and  
experience shows that it can. Mature microfinance institutions in Indonesia, 
 Bangladesh and Bolivia are doing at least as much deposit-taking as 
loan-making  — good news for the poor, since it is much harder to get in 
trouble 
by saving  too much than by borrowing too much. In Mexico, Compartamos Banco 
offers life  insurance along with its loans and ranks among the country’s 
largest life  insurers. And in Kenya, the mobile-phone-based money-transfer 
system M-Pesa now  does more transactions then Western Union. 
But the funding flows into microfinance are, if anything, impeding such  
initiatives by heavily favoring credit. According to the Consultative Group to 
 Assist the Poor, public and private investors — including social investors 
 seeking to do good while doing well — committed _a record $3.6 billion_ 
(http://www.cgap.org/gm/document-1.9.55998/Brief_Cross-BorderFunding.pdf)  to 
the microfinance  industry in 2010, with 86 percentdevoted to financing 
microloans. One wonders  when the next bubble will pop. 
The best approach is not to pour more money into microlending. It is to put 
 less in — and target it for start-up investments and training that can 
build  durable financial institutions that deliver a variety of services to the 
poor.  This approach would cut the costs of microfinance for donors while 
increasing  the benefits. It might not transform the lives of the poor, but 
it would improve  them.

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