Government Bond Markets: Unfeeling Psychopaths or Rational Keynesians?

We're blaming the fire alarm for the fire.

With the latest round of “markets can’t handle democracy” after a minor selloff in BTPs (Italian government bonds) following their election, the idea that “government finance is too important to be left to the markets” is emerging from the swamp of Guardian comment threads, and shambling back into the mainstream. With all but a few Austrian dead-enders acknowledging that austerity has been disastrous for growth, the accusation of market culpability is a serious one.

The case for the prosecution is that government bond markets irrationally panicked at modest debt increases following the 2008 financial crisis, demanding appeasement in the form of “austerity”, ideally targeted at the poor and vulnerable. (One may need to sprinkle the preceding sentence with the word “neoliberal” to get the full flavour). This case was made most recently in a paper by Paul DeGrauwe of VoxEu, and is noticeable for attracting sympathetic comments from normally sensible people.

Professor DeGrauwe argues convincingly that the countries which instigated the largest austerity programmes suffered the worst damage from markets in terms of both quantity and price of fresh borrowing (his Figure 1 below). He goes on to note that none of the austerity measures introduced pacified markets.

He draws the slightly eccentric conclusion from this that markets love and demand austerity. Possibly for reasons of space he omits that the two biggest rallies in EU peripheral sovereign debt before the ECB’s Outright Monetary Transactions (OMT) were driven by monetary actions—the injection of ECB liquidity into the market via SMP and later LTRO. But he does note that the prospect of unlimited monetary intervention by the ECB in the form of OMT is what appears to have convinced markets that investing in the periphery is safe.

So there you have it: fiscal measures did nothing to convince markets to buy peripheral debt; monetary measures were repeatedly successful.

Yet the conclusion drawn is that:

Austerity dynamics were forced by fear and panic that erupted in the financial markets and then gripped policymakers.

What worked: hint - not austerity

What worked: hint – not austerity.

Panic is a funny word. Jumping out of a moving bus can look like panic. However, if the driver—let’s call him Jean-Claude—is absolutely adamant that he wants to drive said bus off a cliff (think of M. Trichet’s threats to pull the repo-able status of Greek debt and later refusal to allow the ECB to get involved in a rescue), and the conductor (Wolfgang) is similarly vehement about fiscal assistance—jumping out starts to look quite rational. The ECB (especially) and the core countries spent most of 2010–mid-2012 declaring an absolute refusal to assist the peripheral nations. As a result, Europe’s money supply began to resemble a badly-sloping field, where all the liquidity is drained from one end (the periphery) and swamps the core.

Where’d all the money go?

The huge underperformance of peripheral growth owes at least as much to monetary as to fiscal factors. Hence, despite the UK’s utterly dire fiscal performance—and misguided austerity, my homeland never suffered remotely the sort of spread explosion that Euroland saw. Similarly, Denmark—even whilst retaining a peg to the Euro—didn’t suffer contagion. The “panic” Professor DeGrauwe refers to looks a lot more like a rational response to a thoroughly dysfunctional system. The end of this panic coincided nicely with the introduction of monetary measure—the OMT—with the potential to provide Italy with the sort of central bank support that the UK has enjoyed.

From Wikipedia. Look, I’m busy.

In this case, blaming the markets is actually blaming the alarm for the fire, and measures to control spread volatility like measures to prevent fire casualties by removing the alarms. Professor Paul Krugman has been vocal about the indisputable absence of “bond vigilantes” from markets spared the various monetary perversions that Euroland is subject to. The fit between spreads and recession looks a whole lot worse once you include countries which aren’t in the Euro. Looking at the above chart, lifted off Wikipedia, UK fundamentals nestle in the middle of a group of countries which were in deep trouble, whereas Japan has so much debt it’s literally off the scale of the chart (at 230 per cent of GDP). But neither has seen any significant rise at all it its credit spreads. I suggest therefore that Eurowonks stop throwing stones in glass houses.

This piece was originally posted on Some Of It Was True…, and is reposted with permission.

Xavier Rolet, the Chief Executive of the London Stock Exchange, poses for photographs in front of giant letter blocks spelling the word 'Bonds'. Photograph: Getty Images

Pawe? Morski is a fund manager who blogs at Some of it was true…

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The decline of the north's sporting powerhouse

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Now, things are different.

On a drive between Sheffield and Barnsley, I spotted a striking painting of the Kes poster. Billy Casper’s two-fingered salute covered the wall of a once-popular pub that is now boarded up.

It is almost 50 years since the late Barry Hines wrote A Kestrel for a Knave, the novel that inspired Ken Loach’s 1969 film, and it seems that the defiant, us-against-the-world, stick-it-to-the-man Yorkshireness he commemorated still resonates here. Almost two-thirds of the people of south Yorkshire voted to leave the EU, flicking two fingers up at what they saw as a London-based establishment, detached from life beyond the capital.

But whatever happened to Billy the unlikely lad, and the myriad other northern characters who were once the stars of stage and screen? Like the pitheads that dominated Casper’s tightly knit neighbourhood, they have disappeared from the landscape. The rot set in during the 1980s, when industries were destroyed and communities collapsed, a point eloquently made in Melvyn Bragg’s excellent radio series The Matter of the North.

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Yet today, we rarely get to hear the voices of Barnsley, Sheffield, Doncaster and Rotherham. And the Yorkshire sporting powerhouse is no more – at least, not as we once knew it.

This should be a matter of national concern. The White Rose county is, after all, the home of the world’s oldest registered football club – Sheffield FC, formed in 1857 – and the first English team to win three successive League titles, Huddersfield Town, in the mid-1920s. Hull City are now Yorkshire’s lone representative in the Premier League.

Howard Wilkinson, the manager of Leeds United when they were crowned champions in 1992, the season before the Premier League was founded, lamented the passing of a less money-obsessed era. “My dad worked at Orgreave,” he said, “the scene of Mrs Thatcher’s greatest hour, bless her. You paid for putting an axe through what is a very strong culture of community and joint responsibility.”

The best-known scene in Loach’s film shows a football match in which Mr Sugden, the PE teacher, played by Brian Glover, comically assumes the role of Bobby Charlton. It was played out on the muddy school fields of Barnsley’s run-down Athersley estate. On a visit to his alma mater a few years ago, David Bradley, who played the scrawny 15-year-old Billy, showed me the goalposts that he had swung from as a reluctant goalkeeper. “You can still see the dint in the crossbar,” he said. When I spoke to him recently, Bradley enthused about his lifelong support for Barnsley FC. “But I’ve not been to the ground over the last season and a half,” he said. “I can’t afford it.”

Bradley is not alone. Many long-standing fans have been priced out. Barnsley is only a Championship side, but for their home encounter with Newcastle last October, their fans had to pay £30 for a ticket.

The English game is rooted in the northern, working-class communities that have borne the brunt of austerity over the past six years. The top leagues – like the EU – are perceived to be out of touch and skewed in favour of the moneyed elites.

Bradley, an ardent Remainer, despaired after the Brexit vote. “They did not know what they were doing. But I can understand why. There’s still a lot of neglect, a lot of deprivation in parts of Barnsley. They feel left behind because they have been left behind.”

It is true that there has been a feel-good factor in Yorkshire following the Rio Olympics; if the county were a country, it would have finished 17th in the international medals table. Yet while millions have been invested in “podium-level athletes”, in the team games that are most relevant to the lives of most Yorkshire folk – football, cricket and rugby league – there is a clear division between sport’s elites and its grass roots. While lucrative TV deals have enriched ruling bodies and top clubs, there has been a large decrease in the number of adults playing any sport in the four years since London staged the Games.

According to figures from Sport England, there are now 67,000 fewer people in Yorkshire involved in sport than there were in 2012. In Doncaster, to take a typical post-industrial White Rose town, there has been a 13 per cent drop in participation – compared with a 0.4 per cent decline nationally.

Attendances at rugby league, the region’s “national sport”, are falling. But cricket, in theory, is thriving, with Yorkshire winning the County Championship in 2014 and 2015. Yet Joe Root, the batsman and poster boy for this renaissance, plays far more games for his country than for his county and was rested from Yorkshire’s 2016 title decider against Middlesex.

“Root’s almost not a Yorkshire player nowadays,” said Stuart Rayner, whose book The War of the White Roses chronicles the club’s fortunes between 1968 and 1986. As a fan back then, I frequently watched Geoffrey Boycott and other local stars at Headingley. My favourite was the England bowler Chris Old, a gritty, defiant, unsung anti-hero in the Billy Casper mould.

When Old made his debut, 13 of the 17-strong Yorkshire squad were registered as working-class professionals. Half a century later, three of the five Yorkshiremen selec­ted for the last Ashes series – Root, Jonny Bairstow and Gary Ballance – were privately educated. “The game of cricket now is played in public schools,” Old told me. “Top players are getting huge amounts of money, but the grass-roots game doesn’t seem to have benefited in any way.”

“In ten years’ time you won’t get a Joe Root,” Rayner said. “If you haven’t seen these top Yorkshire cricketers playing in your backyard and you haven’t got Sky, it will be difficult to get the whole cricket bug. So where is the next generation of Roots going to come from?” Or the next generation of Jessica Ennis-Hills? Three years ago, the Sheffield stadium where she trained and first discovered athletics was closed after cuts to local services.

This article first appeared in the 19 January 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The Trump era