At the US Federal Reserve, when is a threshold not a threshold? When it's an embarrassment

The Federal Open Market Committee is keen to hold fund rates in spite of falling unemployment. It's the first act of a newer, stricter committee.

Let’s take the Fed first. When is a threshold not a threshold? Answer: when it becomes an embarrassment.

With the unemployment rate plummeting towards the 6.5 per cent "threshold" touted by the Fed as the point at which it would consider rate increases, we were told in the statement released after their December meeting that the FOMC "now anticipates that the funds rate will be held unchanged until 'well past' the time that the unemployment rate has fallen below its 6.5 per cent threshold".

This was a meeting at which a majority in favour of just lowering the threshold to 6.0 per cent, or even 5.5 per cent, obviously couldn’t be found. Thank goodness. This is certainly a testament to the sagacity of the committee, as moving the goal posts so soon after they were inserted into the ground would have been seriously detrimental to the Fed’s credibility. What’s to say the threshold wouldn’t suddenly become 5 per cent, or even be abandoned completely when it was subsequently convenient?

We should bear in mind that in many ways this was the outgoing, dovish Fed’s final act, with Helicopter Ben at the helm (or the cyclic, I guess). The FOMC composition became distinctly more hawkish at the January meeting. No surprise then that the January meeting saw another $10bn reduction in QE and no lowering of thresholds.

My guess would be that by the March meeting several clouds that have been obscuring the health of the US economy, and hammering risk assets, will have blown over. I don’t feel that by any means all emerging markets will have escaped the cosh, but I do feel that we will have avoided widespread contagion, a la the 1997/8 Asian/Russian Crises, and that the pressure will be seen as contained and upon the most vulnerable - Argentina, Brazil, Turkey, South Africa, say, whereas key Asian nations will be relatively calm - India, China, Indonesia, Korea and Taiwan.

I do feel that headline US unemployment will be lower by then and that there will be a burgeoning realisation that we shouldn’t devalue that because of low participation rates. Widespread academic research has highlighted that a large proportion of the fall in participation rates has been caused by demographics - to somewhat over-simplify, baby boomer retirees - and is not going to race back up cyclically. Finally, US economic data will finally be free of both government shutdown and weather distortions, and looking very healthy.

Here in the UK, the BOE faces a very similar dilemma and Wednesday’s release of the Bank's Quarterly Inflation Report (QIR) will surely unveil tweeks to forward guidance. As in the US, unemployment is crashing, and last week’s January UK Services PMI Reading, although only a tad lower at 58.3, from 58.8 in Dec, boasted sub-components that still made excellent reading, with the key employment index moving higher, along with the outstanding business index which, at 55.3, stands at its high since 1997. At this rate Q1 growth is looking like 1.0 per cent qoq.

I do not expect the QIR to announce a reduction in the unemployment threshold to 6.5 per cent, say, but I do expect to see a nod to other metrics, such as wage and productivity growth. There must also be a 25 per cent chance that they take a leaf out of the Fed's book and introduce a version of the Summary of Economic Projections, with a record of individual MPC members' views on the future path of the Bank's Base Rate. In short, RIP forward guidance, long live old-style insight into the MPC's thinking and reaction function.

Janet Yellen, Chair of the Board of Governors of the Federal Reserve System. 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.

GETTY
Show Hide image

Erdogan’s purge was too big and too organised to be a mere reaction to the failed coup

There is a specific word for the melancholy of Istanbul. The city is suffering a mighty bout of something like hüzün at the moment. 

Even at the worst of times Istanbul is a beautiful city, and the Bosphorus is a remarkable stretch of sea. Turks get very irritated if you call it a river. They are right. The Bosphorus has a life and energy that a river could never equal. Spend five minutes watching the Bosphorus and you can understand why Orhan Pamuk, Turkey’s Nobel laureate for literature, became fixated by it as he grew up, tracking the movements of the ocean-going vessels, the warships and the freighters as they steamed between Asia and Europe.

I went to an Ottoman palace on the Asian side of the Bosphorus, waiting to interview the former prime minister Ahmet Davu­toglu. He was pushed out of office two months ago by President Recep Tayyip Erdogan when he appeared to be too wedded to the clauses in the Turkish constitution which say that the prime minister is the head of government and the president is a ceremonial head of state. Erdogan was happy with that when he was prime minister. But now he’s president, he wants to change the constitution. If Erdogan can win the vote in parliament he will, in effect, be rubber-stamping the reality he has created since he became president. In the days since the attempted coup, no one has had any doubt about who is the power in the land.

 

City of melancholy

The view from the Ottoman palace was magnificent. Beneath a luscious, pine-shaded garden an oil tanker plied its way towards the Black Sea. Small ferries dodged across the sea lanes. It was not, I hasten to add, Davutoglu’s private residence. It had just been borrowed, for the backdrop. But it reminded a Turkish friend of something she had heard once from the AKP, Erdogan’s ruling party: that they would not rest until they were living in the apartments with balconies and gardens overlooking the Bosphorus that had always been the preserve of the secular elite they wanted to replace.

Pamuk also writes about hüzün, the melancholy that afflicts the citizens of Istanbul. It comes, he says, from the city’s history and its decline, the foghorns on the Bosphorus, from tumbledown walls that have been ruins since the fall of the Byzantine empire, unemployed men in tea houses, covered women waiting for buses that never come, pelting rain and dark evenings: the city’s whole fabric and all the lives within it. “My starting point,” Pamuk wrote, “was the emotion that a child might feel while looking through a steamy window.”

Istanbul is suffering a mighty bout of something like hüzün at the moment. In Pamuk’s work the citizens of Istanbul take a perverse pride in hüzün. No one in Istanbul, or elsewhere in Turkey, can draw comfort from what is happening now. Erdogan’s opponents wonder what kind of future they can have in his Turkey. I think I sensed it, too, in the triumphalist crowds of Erdogan supporters that have been gathering day after day since the coup was defeated.

 

Down with the generals

Erdogan’s opponents are not downcast because the coup failed; a big reason why it did was that it had no public support. Turks know way too much about the authoritarian ways of military rule to want it back. The melancholy is because Erdogan is using the coup to entrench himself even more deeply in power. The purge looks too far-reaching, too organised and too big to have been a quick reaction to the attempt on his power. Instead it seems to be a plan that was waiting to be used.

Turkey is a deeply unhappy country. It is hard to imagine now, but when the Arab uprisings happened in 2011 it seemed to be a model for the Middle East. It had elections and an economy that worked and grew. When I asked Davutoglu around that time whether there would be a new Ottoman sphere of influence for the 21st century, he smiled modestly, denied any such ambition and went on to explain that the 2011 uprisings were the true succession to the Ottoman empire. A century of European, and then American, domination was ending. It had been a false start in Middle Eastern history. Now it was back on track. The people of the region were deciding their futures, and perhaps Turkey would have a role, almost like a big brother.

Turkey’s position – straddling east and west, facing Europe and Asia – is the key to its history and its future. It could be, should be, a rock of stability in a desperately un­stable part of the world. But it isn’t, and that is a problem for all of us.

 

Contagion of war

The coup did not come out of a clear sky. Turkey was in deep crisis before the attempt was made. Part of the problem has come from Erdogan’s divisive policies. He has led the AKP to successive election victories since it first won in 2002. But the policies of his governments have not been inclusive. As long as his supporters are happy, the president seems unconcerned about the resentment and opposition he is generating on the other side of politics.

Perhaps that was inevitable. His mission, as a political Islamist, was to change the country, to end the power of secular elites, including the army, which had been dominant since Mustafa Kemal Atatürk created modern Turkey after the collapse of the Ottoman empire. And there is also the influence of chaos and war in the Middle East. Turkey has borders with Iraq and Syria, and is deeply involved in their wars. The borders do not stop the contagion of violence. Hundreds of people have died in the past year in bomb attacks in Turkish cities, some carried out by the jihadists of so-called Islamic State, and some sent by Kurdish separatists working under the PKK.

It is a horrible mix. Erdogan might be able to deal with it better if he had used the attempted coup to try to unite Turkey. All the parliamentary parties condemned it. But instead, he has turned the power of the state against his opponents. More rough times lie ahead.

Jeremy Bowen is the BBC’s Middle East editor. He tweets @bowenbbc

This article first appeared in the 28 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Summer Double Issue