Panic stalks the Square Mile

In the tumultuous first week of August, the international markets woke up to the reality that extrem

During the stock-market panic of autumn 2008, we lived for the weekends. We were renting a cottage near Banbury in Oxfordshire and we would blast up the M40 on Friday nights, wend through the misty streets of our nearest village and then down into a dell, where the house nestled. An hour later, with our little boy tucked away in bed, I'd sit at my computer and watch the US markets until they closed.

Even when I knew that the traders in New York were stumbling from their offices to the bars of Broadway, I couldn't relax. It had become common practice for bad news to be released after the closing bell on Wall Street. Friday-night press releases - whether they were gloomy updates from struggling banks, a grim report from the Federal Reserve or a surprise downgrade from rating agencies - gave traders a couple of days to digest information before getting back to their desks on Monday. Those weekends, while walking through the bright clouds of falling leaves, I would try to get some perspective on the latest financial catastrophe, try to see the markets with a clarity that I wasn't afforded in the white-knuckle working week.

I thought back to that time as I sat up late on Sunday 7 August, trying to make sense of the negative headlines that had caused the stock-market jitters of late July to turn into an early-August rout. The trader's job is one of pattern recognition: to sift through information and judge between the incidental and the meaningful. The best in the business seem to make these judgements at the level of instinct. No mantic powers were required in the first week of August to tell that the news was bad. What traders, analysts and economists are now trying to work out is if this crisis is merely a big bump on the road to recovery, or a sign that the much-feared double dip is finally here.

As recently as 7 July, the FTSE was edging towards 6,100. By the end of 5 August, it sat at under 5,250. We entered correction territory - a fall of over 10 per cent from recent highs - on most major exchanges and, despite some decent US employment data, declines rivalled those that followed the bankruptcy of Lehman Brothers. The Dow Jones index staged a brief rally late that afternoon as Silvio Berlusconi announced measures aimed at liberalising Italy's economy. With the echo of the closing bell still ringing on Wall Street, however, Standard & Poor's (S&P) dramatically stripped the US of its AAA rating for the first time in history.

As long as the US retains its AAA status at the two other big rating agencies (Moody's and Fitch), S&P's move is largely symbolic. Banks and insurers will still be able to treat US treasury bonds as AAA-rated for risk management purposes and the downgrade will have only a marginal effect on borrowing costs. That doesn't mean we should ignore it.

Many will question the validity of S&P's move, given the tarnished reputations of such agencies after their decision to give ridiculously inflated ratings to sub-prime securitisations in the run-up to the financial crisis. The US government has highlighted flaws in S&P's calculations, pointing to a $2.1trn mistake. Yet S&P has, for once, got things right. The drawn-out relief rally that has taken place since early 2009 reflects the concerted, unilateral action taken by governments across the world to address the credit crisis. The over-leveraged financial system was bailed out by politicians, who realised that the only way to keep banks alive was to assume the liabilities of those in the worst shape, while pumping enormous amounts of liquidity into the markets to resuscitate the rest. The plan worked and stock markets heaved a communal sigh of relief.

Fearful symmetry

The political decisiveness of those mid-crisis days was a canard. In the weeks leading up to the S&P downgrade, there was a ghastly trans­atlantic symmetry as US politicians indulged in shameful point-scoring over the (usually routine) raising of the debt ceiling and Europe shilly-shallied over its response to the seemingly endless problems in Greece. Only debt of the most robust credit quality should be rated AAA. The US came within days of defaulting on its bonds as Republicans and Democrats played games of economic brinkmanship. In downgrading the US rating, S&P merely acknowledged that an investment in the country's debt risks falling foul of political intransigence.

Meanwhile, José Manuel Barroso, president of the European Commission, was correct to question the "systemic capacity of the euro area to respond to the evolving crisis" but this was unhelpful. The European Financial Stabilisation Facility - set up to bail out struggling euro-area governments - needs to be bigger than the current €440bn (£385bn) but any major increase will be resisted strongly by Germany. Italian and Spanish bond yields rocketed, pushed higher by a lack of direction at the European Central Bank (ECB), which initially held back from including their debt in its asset purchase scheme.

In the first week of August, the markets woke up to the reality that the financial crisis, which they had thought was behind them, had merely been transferred from the private sector to public balance sheets. Where companies led by supposedly decisive CEOs used to be the big borrowers, the debt is now in the hands of governments run by infighting bureaucrats. In the wake of the S&P downgrade, China called for the US to get over its "debt addiction". As a holder of over $2trn of US debt, China, by far the country's largest creditor, has a right to make its voice heard. More worrying for the US was a suggestion at the end of the press release that China might stop or scale down its purchase of treasuries. The S&P downgrade is not world-changing in itself, but if China uses it as an excuse to alter its asset allocation or push for the replacement of the US dollar as the global reserve currency, China's reference to the US as "the world's sole superpower" would end up carrying some heavy irony.

The last time stocks hit the lows seen on the morning of 5 August was towards the end of August last year, when a combination of concerns over European peripherals (Ireland and Portugal specifically), Chinese inflation and poor US economic data hit investor confidence. The old trader adage "Sell in May and go away" (that is, hold only cash from May to October) would have been particularly useful this year. The rationale behind the maxim is sound: with investors on holiday, any moves in the market are affected by illiquidity. Where, in a fully functioning market, one would expect buyers and sellers to remain more or less balanced, in the summer months there is no one around to stand in the way of a rout. Last year's August slump was largely owing to this summer sluggishness.

The situation this time around is rather different. Because of the ongoing wrangle over the US debt ceiling, traders have been chained to their desks for the past few weeks. Many of those who did get away have been called back from their trips to the Côte d'Azur. Volumes have been heavy recently. On 5 August, US stocks experienced the highest levels of trading since the "flash crash" of May 2010, when computer-driven, high-frequency-trading hedge funds caused a correction of nearly 1,000 points in the Dow Jones index. Then, it was a technical fault in the market that caused the enormous trading volumes. This time, investors are scared and are selling out of all but the most defensive stocks.

Another sure sign of fear is the record volume of options trades that went through on 4 and 5 August as investors attempted to put in place hedges against further market turmoil. Panic once again stalks the Square Mile and traders are struggling to make sense of a complex picture. Usually, in times of market turmoil, gold rises in price; but when panic really sets in, the highest-quality assets suffer.

Some of the best trades of my career were made in the mad days between October 2008 and February 2009, when hedge funds were scrambling to raise money to meet margin calls (a requirement to post cash against the falling value of the fund's assets). Because it was impossible to sell anything but the most liquid assets (the "family silver", as it was described), those of us who did have cash to spend were able to pick up extraordinary bargains, with discounts of anywhere up to 70 per cent of face value. This time, gold is the "family silver". It is always useful to watch the gold price - it's a pretty good sign of where investors are on the greed/fear continuum - and falls in gold in times of panic suggest a capitulation of confidence. If you believe Warren Buffett's mantra of "Be fearful when others are greedy and be greedy when others are fearful", it's a good signal to start picking up bargains.

The big question for traders and portfolio managers is whether we have experienced a short, sharp shock and should be buying selectively or whether we are at the beginning of a new bear market, which would entail an overhauling of asset allocations. The picture looks bleak. If we are entering a double-dip recession, investment strategy will be a matter of quick thinking and guesswork - but there are obvious approaches traders could take and a few likely developments to keep in mind.

1 Equity exposures should be reduced for all but the most defensive stocks. Pharmaceutical companies, basic household and consumer goods should be held.
2 Currency investment will focus on a new breed of solvent nations with stable political and economic systems. The Singaporean dollar, the Norwegian krone and the Australian dollar will join the yen and the Swiss franc as the main safe-haven currencies.
3 We should not rule out dramatic inflation driven by governments attempting to inflate away the unsustainable levels of debt on their balance sheets. Already, there is talk of further quantitative easing in the US. Although everything points to a bubble in the gold price, it remains one of the few sure-fire ways of hedging against inflation.
4 Diversification is still key. A portfolio with a good spread of asset classes (including commodities, private equity and hedge funds) and geographies (with attention to Asia and South America) will - with luck - ride the storm.

Back to reality

As traders returned to their desks on Monday 8 August, it appeared that a weekend's contemplation had failed to lift the gloom. After following Asian stocks lower, the FTSE briefly rallied into positive territory. This window of optimism prompted Nick Clegg to claim that the ECB's buying of Italian and Spanish bonds was "calming the markets". He was wrong.

As Wall Street futures plunged, the FTSE gave up its modest gains and slumped towards the 5,000 level. Gold hit a record high. Crude oil dived. With unrest on the streets mirroring the turmoil in the markets, it is impossible to say how bad things will get from here.

Following Lehman's collapse, it felt as if all of the certainties had been stripped from the markets, as if there was nothing between us and financial Armageddon. It feels like that again. Without bold intervention from the governments at the heart of this crisis, traders will be looking back on the weekends of the 2008 crash with misty-eyed nostalgia. Back then, it felt like the end; now, we know that it was just the beginning.

Alex Preston is the author of "This Bleeding City" (Faber & Faber, £7.99).

This article first appeared in the 15 August 2011 issue of the New Statesman, The coming anarchy

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Why the elites always rule

Since an Italian sociologist coined the word “elite” in 1902, it has become a term of abuse. But history is the story of one elite replacing another – as the votes for Trump and Brexit have shown.

Donald Trump’s successful presidential campaign was based on the rejection of the “establishment”. Theresa May condemned the rootless “international elites” in her leader’s speech at last October’s Conservative party conference. On the European continent, increasingly popular right-wing parties such as Marine Le Pen’s Front National and the German Alternative für Deutschland, as well as Poland’s ruling Law and Justice party, delight in denouncing the “Eurocratic” elites. But where does the term “elite” come from, and what does it mean?

It was Vilfredo Pareto who, in 1902, gave the term the meaning that it has today. We mostly think of Pareto as the economist who came up with ideas such as “Pareto efficiency” and the “Pareto principle”. The latter – sometimes known as the “power law”, or the “80/20 rule” – stipulates that 80 per cent of the land always ends up belonging to 20 per cent of the population. Pareto deduced this by studying land distribution in Italy at the turn of the 20th century. He also found that 20 per cent of the pea pods in his garden produced 80 per cent of the peas. Pareto, however, was not only an economist. In later life, he turned his hand to sociology, and it was in this field that he developed his theory of the “circulation of elites”.

The term élite, used in its current socio­logical sense, first appeared in his 1902 book Les systèmes socialistes (“socialist systems”). Its aim was to analyse Marxism as a new form of “secular” religion. And it was the French word élite that he used: naturally, one might say, for a book written in French. Pareto, who was bilingual, wrote in French and Italian. He was born in Paris in 1848 to a French mother and an Italian father; his father was a Genoese marquis who had accompanied the political activist Giuseppe Mazzini into exile. In honour of the revolution that was taking place in Germany at the time, Pareto was at first named Fritz Wilfried. This was latinised into Vilfredo Federico on the family’s return to Italy in 1858.

When Pareto wrote his masterpiece – the 3,000-page Trattato di sociologia ­generale (“treatise on general sociology”) – in 1916, he retained the French word élite even though the work was in Italian. Previously, he had used “aristocracy”, but that didn’t seem to fit the democratic regime that had come into existence after Italian unification. Nor did he want to use his rival Gaetano Mosca’s term “ruling class”; the two had bitter arguments about who first came up with the idea of a ruling minority.

Pareto wanted to capture the idea that a minority will always rule without recourse to outdated notions of heredity or Marxist concepts of class. So he settled on élite, an old French word that has its origins in the Latin eligere, meaning “to select” (the best).

In the Trattato, he offered his definition of an elite. His idea was to rank everyone on a scale of one to ten and that those with the highest marks in their field would be considered the elite. Pareto was willing to judge lawyers, politicians, swindlers, courtesans or chess players. This ranking was to be morally neutral: beyond “good and evil”, to use the language of the time. So one could identify the best thief, whether that was considered a worthy profession or not.

Napoleon was his prime example: whether he was a good or a bad man was irrelevant, as were the policies he might have pursued. Napoleon had undeniable political qualities that, according to Pareto, marked him out as one of the elite. Napoleon is important
because Pareto made a distinction within the elite – everyone with the highest indices within their branch of activity was a member of an elite – separating out the governing from the non-governing elite. The former was what interested him most.

This is not to suggest that the non-governing elite and the non-elite were of no interest to him, but they had a specific and limited role to play, which was the replenishment of the governing elite. For Pareto, this group was the key to understanding society as a whole – for whatever values this elite incarnated would be reflected in society. But he believed that there was an inevitable “physiological” law that stipulated the continuous decline of the elite, thereby making way for a new elite. As he put it in one of his most memorable phrases, “History is the graveyard of elites.”

***

Pareto’s thesis was that elites always rule. There is always the domination of the minority over the majority. And history is just the story of one elite replacing another. This is what he called the “circulation of elites”. When the current elite starts to decline, it is challenged and makes way for another. Pareto thought that this came about in two ways: either through assimilation, the new elite merging with elements of the old, or through revolution, the new elite wiping out the old. He used the metaphor of a river to make his point. Most of the time, the river flows continuously, smoothly incorporating its tributaries, but sometimes, after a storm, it floods and breaks its banks.

Drawing on his Italian predecessor Machiavelli, Pareto identified two types of elite rulers. The first, whom he called the “foxes”, are those who dominate mainly through combinazioni (“combination”): deceit, cunning, manipulation and co-optation. Their rule is characterised by decentralisation, plurality and scepticism, and they are uneasy with the use of force. “Lions”, on the other hand, are more conservative. They emphasise unity, homogeneity, established ways, the established faith, and rule through small, centralised and hierarchical bureaucracies, and they are far more at ease with the use of force than the devious foxes. History is the slow swing of the pendulum from one type of elite to the other, from foxes to lions and back again.

The relevance of Pareto’s theories to the world today is clear. After a period of foxes in power, the lions are back with renewed vigour. Donald Trump, as his behaviour during the US presidential campaign confirmed, is perfectly at ease with the use of intimidation and violence. He claimed that he wants to have a wall built between the United States and Mexico. His mooted economic policies are largely based on protectionism and tariffs. Regardless of his dubious personal ethics – a classic separation between the elite and the people – he stands for the traditional (white) American way of life and religion.

This is in stark contrast to the Obama administration and the Cameron government, both of which, compared to what has come since the votes for Trump and Brexit, were relatively open and liberal. Pareto’s schema goes beyond the left/right divide; the whole point of his Systèmes socialistes was to demonstrate that Marxism, as a secular religion, signalled a return to faith, and thus the return of the lions in politics.

In today’s context, the foxes are the forces of globalisation and liberalism – in the positive sense of developing an open, inter­connected and tolerant world; and in the negative sense of neoliberalism and the dehumanising extension of an economic calculus to all aspects of human life. The lions represent the reaction, centring themselves in the community, to which they may be more attentive, but bringing increased xenophobia, intolerance and conservatism. For Pareto, the lions and foxes are two different types of rule, both with strengths and weaknesses. Yet the elite is always composed of the two elements. The question is: which one dominates at any given time?

What we know of Theresa May’s government suggests that she runs a tight ship. She has a close – and closed – group of confidants, and she keeps a firm grip on the people under her. She is willing to dispense with parliament in her negotiation of Brexit, deeming it within the royal prerogative. Nobody yet knows her plan.

The European Union is a quintessentially foxlike project, based on negotiation, compromise and combination. Its rejection is a victory of the lions over the foxes. The lions are gaining prominence across the Western world, not just in Trumpland and Brexit Britain. Far-right movements have risen by rejecting the EU. It should come as no surprise that many of these movements (including Trump in the US) admire Vladimir Putin, at least for his strongman style.

Asia hasn’t been spared this movement, either. After years of tentative openness in China, at least with the economy, Xi Jinping has declared himself the “core” leader, in the mould of the previous strongmen Mao Zedong and Deng Xiaoping. Japan’s prime minister, Shinzo Abe, has also hardened his stance, and he was the first world leader to meet with President-Elect Donald Trump. Narendra Modi in India and Rodrigo Duterte in the Philippines are in the same mould, the latter coming to power on the back of promising to kill criminals and drug dealers. After the failed coup against him in July, Recep Tayyip Erdogan has also been cracking down on Turkey.

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In Les systèmes socialistes, Pareto elaborated on how a new elite replaces the old. A, the old elite, would be challenged by B, the new, in alliance with C, the people. B would win the support of C by making promises that, once in power, it wouldn’t keep. If that sounds like the behaviour of most politicians, that is because it probably is. But what Pareto was pointing out was how, in its struggle for power, the new elite politicised groups that were not political before.

What we know of Trump supporters and Brexiteers is that many feel disenfranchised: the turnout in the EU referendum could not have been greater than in the 2015 general election otherwise, and significant numbers of those who voted for Trump had never voted before. There is no reason to think that they, too, won’t be betrayed by the new leaders they helped to bring to power.

In the last years of his life, Pareto offered a commentary on Italy in the 1920s. He denounced the state’s inability to enforce its decisions and the way that Italians spent their time flaunting their ability to break the law and get away with it. He coined the phrase “demagogic plutocracy” to characterise the period, in which the rich ruled behind a façade of democratic politics. He thought this particularly insidious for two reasons: those in power were more interested in siphoning off wealth for their personal ends than encouraging the production of new wealth, and consequently undermined national prosperity (remember Pareto’s training as an economist); and, as the demagogic elites govern through deceit and cunning, they are able to mask their rule for longer periods.

Much has been made of Trump’s “populism”, but the term “demagogic plutocrat” seems particularly apt for him, too: he is a wealthy man who will advance the interests of his small clique to the detriment of the well-being of the nation, all behind the smokescreen of democratic politics.

There are other ways in which Pareto can help us understand our predicament. After all, he coined the 80/20 rule, of which we hear an intensified echo in the idea of “the One Per Cent”. Trump is a fully paid-up member of the One Per Cent, a group that he claims to be defending the 99 Per Cent from (or, perhaps, he is an unpaid-up member, given that what unites the One Per Cent is its reluctance to pay taxes). When we perceive the natural inequality of the distribution of resources as expressed through Pareto’s “power law”, we are intellectually empowered to try to do something about it.

Those writings on 1920s Italy landed Pareto in trouble, as his theory of the circulation of elites predicted that a “demagogic plutocracy”, dominated by foxes, would necessarily make way for a “military plutocracy”, this time led by lions willing to restore the power of the state. In this, he was often considered a defender of Mussolini, and Il Duce certainly tried to make the best of that possibility by making Pareto a senator. Yet there is a difference between prediction and endorsement, and Pareto, who died in 1923, had already been living as a recluse in Céligny in Switzerland for some time – earning him the nickname “the hermit of Céligny” – with only his cats for company, far removed from day-to-day Italian politics. He remained a liberal to his death, content to stay above the fray.

Like all good liberals, Pareto admired Britain above all. As an economist, he had vehemently defended its system of free trade in the face of outraged opposition in Italy. He also advocated British pluralism and tolerance. Liberalism is important here: in proposing to set up new trade barriers and restrict freedom of movement, exacerbated by their more or less blatant xenophobia, Trump and Brexit challenge the values at the heart of the liberal world.

***


What was crucial for Pareto was that new elites would rise and challenge the old. It was through the “circulation of elites” that history moved. Yet the fear today is that history has come to a standstill, that elites have ­become fossilised. Electors are fed up with choosing between the same old candidates, who seem to be proposing the same old thing. No wonder people are willing to try something new.

This fear of the immobility of elites has been expressed before. In 1956, the American sociologist C Wright Mills published The Power Elite. The book has not been out of print since. It is thanks to him that the term was anglicised and took on the pejorative sense it has today. For Mills, Cold War America had come to be dominated by a unified political, commercial and military elite. With the 20th century came the growth of nationwide US corporations, replacing the older, more self-sufficient farmers of the 19th century.

This made it increasingly difficult to ­distinguish between the interests of large US companies and those of the nation as a whole. “What’s good for General Motors,” as the phrase went, “is good for America.” As a result, political and commercial interests were becoming ever more intertwined. One had only to add the Cold War to the mix to see how the military would join such a nexus.

Mills theorised what President Dwight D Eisenhower denounced in his January 1961 farewell speech as the “military-industrial complex” (Eisenhower had wanted to add the word “congressional”, but that was thought to be too risky and was struck out of the speech). For Mills, the circulation of elites – a new elite rising to challenge the old – had come to an end. If there was any circulation at all, it was the ease with which this new power elite moved from one part of the elite to the other: the “revolving door”.

The Cold War is over but there is a similar sense of immobility at present concerning the political elite. Must one be the child or wife of a past US president to run for that office? After Hillary Clinton, will Chelsea run, too? Must one have gone to Eton, or at least Oxford or Cambridge, to reach the cabinet? In France is it Sciences Po and Éna?

The vote for Brexit, Trump and the rise of the far right are, beyond doubt, reactions to this sentiment. And they bear out Pareto’s theses: the new elites have aligned themselves with the people to challenge the old elites. The lions are challenging the foxes. Needless to say, the lions, too, are prototypically elites. Trump is a plutocrat. Boris Johnson, the co-leader of the Leave campaign, is as “establishment” as they come (he is an Old Etonian and an Oxford graduate). Nigel Farage is a public-school-educated, multimillionaire ex-stockbroker. Marine Le Pen is the daughter of Jean-Marie Le Pen. Putin is ex-KGB.

Pareto placed his hopes for the continuing circulation of elites in technological, economic and social developments. He believed that these transformations would give rise to new elites that would challenge the old political ruling class.

We are now living through one of the biggest ever technological revolutions, brought about by the internet. Some have argued that social media tipped the vote in favour of Brexit. Arron Banks’s Leave.EU website relentlessly targeted disgruntled blue-collar workers through social media, using simple, sometimes grotesque anti-immigration messages (as a recent profile of Banks in the New Statesman made clear) that mimicked the strategies of the US hard right.

Trump’s most vocal supporters include the conspiracy theorist Alex Jones, who has found the internet a valuable tool for propagating his ideas. In Poland, Jarosław Kaczynski, the leader of the Law and Justice party, claims that the Russian plane crash in 2010 that killed his twin brother (then the country’s president) was a political assassination, and has accused the Polish prime minister of the time, Donald Tusk, now the president of the European Council, of being “at least morally” responsible. (The official explanation is that the poorly trained pilots crashed the plane in heavy fog.)

It need not be like this. Silicon Valley is a world unto itself, but when some of its members – a new technological elite – start to play a more active role in politics, that might become a catalyst for change. In the UK, it has been the legal, financial and technological sectors that so far have led the pushback against a “hard” Brexit. And we should not forget how the social movements that grew out of Occupy have already been changing the nature of politics in many southern European countries.

The pendulum is swinging back to the lions. In some respects, this might be welcome, because globalisation has left too many behind and they need to be helped. However, Pareto’s lesson was one of moderation. Both lions and foxes have their strengths and weaknesses, and political elites are a combination of the two, with one element dominating temporarily. Pareto, as he did in Italy in the 1920s, would have predicted a return of the lions. But as a liberal, he would have cautioned against xenophobia, protectionism and violence.

If the lions can serve as correctives to the excesses of globalisation, their return is salutary. Yet the circulation of elites is a process more often of amalgamation than replacement. The challenge to liberal politics is to articulate a balance between the values of an open, welcoming society and of one that takes care of its most vulnerable members. Now, as ever, the task is to find the balance between the lions and the foxes. l

Hugo Drochon is the author of “Nietzsche’s Great Politics” (Princeton University Press)

This article first appeared in the 12 January 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's revenge