Who's been swimming naked?

It's hedge funds.

With apologies to Warren Buffett, who first coined the pithy aphorism, "You never know who's swimming naked until the tide goes out", but we may just be about to discover who has been; again.

Not only has the US Federal Reserve recently told us that the party is about to finish, with a projection that they will probably terminate their bond buying program of Quantitative Easing by this time next year, but last week, the People’s Bank of China, in a tactic no doubt sanctioned by government, administered a sharp "smack on the wrist" for domestic banks, allowing the overnight bond collateral repo rate to hit 13.8 per cent on 20th June, up from 2 or 3 per cent last month. This was designed to teach banks that unlimited liquidity was no longer going to be on tap-especially not to fund property lending. The PBOC has since injected a little more cash, but rates still remain elevated. Reports have filtered out that the PBOC has told banks it will provide them with liquidity if required, but only to fund "real" lending to the economy, rather than for property speculation.

Coupled with the Fed’s actions, this development is doubly significant, and spooked markets globally. The end of an era of unlimited, cheap liquidity seems to be drawing closer, and the implications of China’s move may be felt across many parts of the globe, perhaps nowhere more acutely than in Australia and Africa. It appears China’s administration is finally getting serious about promoting a much-needed re-balancing of its economy; away from property development, and investment generally, and towards personal consumption. To me that sounds like a recipe for less demand for the type of commodities which Australia and Africa produce.

Following the Fed’s announcements, we had already seen emerging markets suffer, as fast money raced out and headed back to the States. Suddenly the easy game of chasing yield around the world, while borrowing US Dollars to fund the practice, didn’t seem quite so rewarding or risk free. China’s policy changes add another layer of uncertainty and fragile emerging markets may be embarrassed swimmers, but many have learnt the lessons of the 1998 Asian crisis and have diligently built large foreign exchange reserves in recent years, so I’d say hedge funds are more likely to be the "‘exposed" this time, as they have been hunting voraciously for yield, whilst banks’ proprietary trading has been seriously curtailed since the onset of the crisis.

Photograph: Getty Images

Chairman of  Saxo Capital Markets Board

An Honours Graduate from Oxford University, Nick Beecroft has over 30 years of international trading experience within the financial industry, including senior Global Markets roles at Standard Chartered Bank, Deutsche Bank and Citibank. Nick was a member of the Bank of England's Foreign Exchange Joint Standing Committee.

More of his work can be found here.

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We argue over Charlie Gard, but forget those spending whole lives caring for a disabled child

The everyday misery of care work is hidden behind abstract arguments over life and death.

“Sometimes,” says the mother, “I wish we’d let him go. Or that he’d just been allowed to slip away.” The father agrees, sometimes. So too does the child, who is not a child any more.

On good days, nobody thinks this way, but not all days are good. There have been bright spots during the course of the past four decades, occasional moments of real hope, but now everyone is tired, everyone is old and the mundane work of loving takes a ferocious toll.

When we talk about caring for sick children, we usually mean minors. It’s easiest that way. That for some parents, the exhaustion and intensity of those first days with a newborn never, ever ends – that you can be in your fifties, sixties, seventies, caring for a child in their twenties, thirties, forties – is not something the rest of us want to think about.

It’s hard to romanticise devotion strung out over that many hopeless, sleepless nights. Better to imagine the tragic mother holding on to the infant who still fits in her loving arms, not the son who’s now twice her size, himself edging towards middle-age and the cliff edge that comes when mummy’s no longer around.

Writing on the tragic case of Charlie Gard, the Guardian’s Giles Fraser claims that he would “rain fire on the whole world to hold my child for a day longer”. The Gard case, he argues, has “set the cool rational compassion of judicial judgement and clinical expertise against the passion of parental love”: “Which is why those who have never smelled the specific perfume of Charlie’s neck, those who have never held him tight or wept and prayed over his welfare, are deemed better placed to determine how he is to live and die.”

This may be true. It may also be true that right now, countless parents who have smelled their own child’s specific perfume, held them tightly, wept for them, loved them beyond all measure, are wishing only for that child’s suffering to end. What of their love? What of their reluctance to set the world aflame for one day more? And what of their need for a life of their own, away from the fantasies of those who’ll passionately defend a parent’s right to keep their child alive but won’t be there at 5am, night after night, cleaning out feeding tubes and mopping up shit?

Parental – in particular, maternal – devotion is seen as an endlessly renewable resource. A real parent never gets tired of loving. A real parent never wonders whether actually, all things considered, it might have caused less suffering for a child never to have been born at all. Such thoughts are impermissible, not least because they’re dangerous. Everyone’s life matters. Nonetheless, there are parents who have these thoughts, not because they don’t love their children, but because they do.

Reporting on the Gard case reminds me of the sanitised image we have of what constitutes the life of a parent of a sick child. It’s impossible not to feel enormous compassion for Charlie’s parents. As the mother of a toddler, I know that in a similar situation I’d have been torn apart. It’s not difficult to look at photos of Charlie and imagine one’s own child in his place. All babies are small and helpless; all babies cry out to be held.

But attitudes change as children get older. In the case of my own family, I noticed a real dropping away of support for my parents and disabled brother as the latter moved into adulthood. There were people who briefly picked him up as a kind of project and then, upon realising that there would be no schmaltzy ending to the story, dropped him again. Love and compassion don’t conquer all, patience runs out and dignity is clearly best respected from a distance.

All too often, the everyday misery of care work is hidden behind abstract arguments over who gets the right to decide whether an individual lives or dies. I don’t know any parents who truly want that right. Not only would it be morally untenable, it’s also a misrepresentation of what their struggles really are and mean.

What many parents who remain lifelong carers need is adequate respite support, a space in which to talk honestly, and the recognition that actually, sometimes loving is a grim and hopeless pursuit. Those who romanticise parental love – who, like Fraser, wallow in heroic portrayals of “battling, devoted parents” – do nothing to alleviate the suffering of those whose love mingles with resentment, exhaustion and sheer loneliness.

There are parents out there who, just occasionally, would be willing to set the world on fire to have a day’s respite from loving. But regardless of whether your child lives or dies, love never ends. 

Glosswitch is a feminist mother of three who works in publishing.