The central bankers' central bank: a new banking crisis?

But should the BIS be listened to at all?

The Bank for International Settlements – the Swiss-based multinational institution which is known as "the central bankers' central bank" – has issued its 83rd annual report, which warns of the potentially massive implications of a spike in bond yields.

BIS argues that an increase in average yields of 300 basis points – 3 percentage points – would lead to losses on US Treasury bills of over $1trn, and it warns that such a big move can happen "relatively fast":

Someone must ultimately hold the interest rate risk. As foreign and domestic banks would be among those experiencing the losses, interest rate increases pose risks to the stability of the financial system if not executed with great care.

The warning fits into a narrative which began last week: that the US Federal Reserve's decision to "taper" its quantitative easing program will end the period of artificially low bond yields. There has certainly been a spike in yields: a 10-year UK gilt yields 2.48 per cent, compared to 1.90 a month ago, while 10-year US is up to 2.58 per cent from 2.01.

But the BIS has its scope set wider. The rises we've seen this month are merely the difference between "low" and "very low" cost of debt for solvent sovereigns; it doesn't yet change the overall story of the last thirty years, which is continued decline in yields.

Instead, as the Economist's Ryan Avent writes, to understand BIS's advice, we have to remember its background as an institution where the central bankers go to tell each other the myths on which their self-esteem rests. And key amongst those myths is the argument that interest rates – the key driver of monetary policy in most open economies – have been too low in recent years.

If interest rates have been too low, then bond yields are doubly depressed, first by QE and second by the low rates. It's easy to see how that belief spirals into warning of an inevitable spike in yields.

But, Avent points out, rates aren't low (or rather, too low) when they are low in absolute terms. Instead, we have to look at where they are compared to where they should be to encourage full employment. Given the deeply depressed economies in the developed world, it is almost certainly the case that interest rates at the level the Bank of England's 0.5 per cent are too high: that, rather than running the risk of causing the economy to overheat, they are dampening investment and growth.

There's a similar infestation of central-bank-ese in the BIS's treatment of sovereign debt, which Avent summarises as "Something something fiscal policy":

Central bankers have strong views on what governments ought to be doing with their budgets, many of which make most sense when given the least scrutiny. The BIS knows what it wants to say: that fiscal consolidation is almost universally necessary and the only real question is how to pursue it. Picking a path toward this argument that doesn't immediately cave in under the weight of self-contradiction proves to be a difficult task.

Paul Krugman is even harsher, writing that:

Part of what makes the report so awesome is the way that it trots out every discredited argument for austerity, with not a hint of acknowledgement that these arguments have been researched and refuted at length.

The BIS pulls the classic two-step of looking at problems from within the Eurozone – where sovereigns without central banks have seen massive explosions in debt and borrowing costs – and extrapolating that to non-Eurozone nations. In short, it's not moved on from the economic "debate" which occurred in the spring of 2010, over whether Britain was the next Greece. (In case you've missed this one: it's not.) But even within the Eurozone, the BIS analysis is problematic, demanding massive deleveraging in countries which are already struggling to cut what spending they can. It fails to acknowledge the first rule of Eurozone budgets: if you are trying to cut debt/GDP ratios, it's more important in the current economic climate to keep growth up than it is to cut government spending.

BIS goes one step still, though. It calls for mass private sector deleveraging at the same time, inveighing against general balance sheet overhang. Quite apart from the fact that it's tricky for all sectors of the economy to deleverage at the same time – someone has to buy the debt – there's that whole paradox of thrift thing which we've known about for a little over three hundred years.

"If the world is lucky," writes Avent, "central bankers will discount the recommendations of the BIS." If the world was lucky, there'd have been better recommendations in the first place.

A woman cycles past the Bank for International Settlements in Basel, Switzerland.

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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The Women's March against Trump matters – but only if we keep fighting

We won’t win the battle for progressive ideas if we don’t battle in the first place.

Arron Banks, UKIP-funder, Brexit cheerleader and Gibraltar-based insurance salesman, took time out from Trump's inauguration to tweet me about my role in tomorrow's Women’s March Conservative values are in the ascendancy worldwide. Thankfully your values are finished. . . good”.

Just what about the idea of women and men marching for human rights causes such ill will? The sense it is somehow cheeky to say we will champion equality whoever is in office in America or around the world. After all, if progressives like me have lost the battle of ideas, what difference does it make whether we are marching, holding meetings or just moaning on the internet?

The only anti-democratic perspective is to argue that when someone has lost the argument they have to stop making one. When political parties lose elections they reflect, they listen, they learn but if they stand for something, they don’t disband. The same is true, now, for the broader context. We should not dismiss the necessity to learn, to listen, to reflect on the rise of Trump – or indeed reflect on the rise of the right in the UK  but reject the idea that we have to take a vow of silence if we want to win power again.

To march is not to ignore the challenges progressives face. It is to start to ask what are we prepared to do about it.

Historically, conservatives have had no such qualms about regrouping and remaining steadfast in the confidence they have something worth saying. In contrast, the left has always been good at absolving itself of the need to renew.

We spend our time seeking the perfect candidates, the perfect policy, the perfect campaign, as a precondition for action. It justifies doing nothing except sitting on the sidelines bemoaning the state of society.

We also seem to think that changing the world should be easier than reality suggests. The backlash we are now seeing against progressive policies was inevitable once we appeared to take these gains for granted and became arrogant and exclusive about the inevitability of our worldview. Our values demand the rebalancing of power, whether economic, social or cultural, and that means challenging those who currently have it. We may believe that a more equal world is one in which more will thrive, but that doesn’t mean those with entrenched privilege will give up their favoured status without a fight or that the public should express perpetual gratitude for our efforts via the ballot box either.  

Amongst the conferences, tweets and general rumblings there seem three schools of thought about what to do next. The first is Marxist  as in Groucho revisionism: to rise again we must water down our principles to accommodate where we believe the centre ground of politics to now be. Tone down our ideals in the hope that by such acquiescence we can eventually win back public support for our brand – if not our purpose. The very essence of a hollow victory.

The second is to stick to our guns and stick our heads in the sand, believing that eventually, when World War Three breaks out, the public will come grovelling back to us. To luxuriate in an unwillingness to see we are losing not just elected offices but the fight for our shared future.

But what if there really was a third way? It's not going to be easy, and it requires more than a hashtag or funny t-shirt. It’s about picking ourselves up, dusting ourselves down and starting to renew our call to arms in a way that makes sense for the modern world.

For the avoidance of doubt, if we march tomorrow and then go home satisfied we have made our point then we may as well not have marched at all. But if we march and continue to organise out of the networks we make, well, then that’s worth a Saturday in the cold. After all, we won’t win the battle of ideas, if we don’t battle.

We do have to change the way we work. We do have to have the courage not to live in our echo chambers alone. To go with respect and humility to debate and discuss the future of our communities and of our country.

And we have to come together to show there is a willingness not to ask a few brave souls to do that on their own. Not just at election times, but every day and in every corner of Britain, no matter how difficult it may feel.

Saturday is one part of that process of finding others willing not just to walk a mile with a placard, but to put in the hard yards to win the argument again for progressive values and vision. Maybe no one will show up. Maybe not many will keep going. But whilst there are folk with faith in each other, and in that alternative future, they’ll find a friend in me ready to work with them and will them on  and then Mr Banks really should be worried.