Bank of England: interest rates stay low til unemployment drops

Mark Carney's Bank promises to fight the slack in the economy.

The Bank of England has released its quarterly inflation report, in which it assesses the state of inflation in the UK and lays out the risks ahead. August's release is particularly notable because it is the report in which the Bank promised to detail its plans for the role of forward guidance in British monetary policy.

Forward guidance is the practice of revealing the rules by which the Bank plans to make decisions about policy, and is important because much of the intricacy of monetary policy involves managing expectations. For instance, if investors expect interest rates to rise when growth gets high, they may be wary of making investments, which will itself keep growth low. Therefore, by promising that interest rates would stay low in the event of growth, a central bank can boost the economy without resorting to more conventional tools.

The inflation report reveals the forward guidance that the Bank has settled on. The key measure is unemployment. The Bank will not raise its base rate from 0.5 per cent "at least until the Labour Force Survey (LFS) headline measure of the unemployment rate had fallen to a ‘threshold’ of 7%". That is roughly equivalent to the Evans Rule (named after Chicago Fed President Charlie Evans) applied by the US Federal Reserve, which swears to keep the base rate under 0.25 per cent as long as unemployment remains above 6.5 per cent.

The Bank's rule contains a few conditions beyond the unemployment threshold, however. Firstly, it only holds if the MPC thinks inflation is "more likely than not" to be less than 0.5 percentage points above the 2 per cent target 18-24 months ahead; secondly, the Banks must feel that medium-term inflation expectations remain sufficiently well anchored; and thirdly, the Financial Policy Committee (FPC, a separate body, albeit one with three overlapping members) must be sure that the rule does not pose a threat to financial stability.

The MPC sums up the rationale for what will surely be known as the Carney Rule:

In essence, the MPC judges that, until the margin of slack within the economy has narrowed significantly, it will be appropriate to maintain the current exceptionally stimulative stance of monetary policy, provided that such an approach remains consistent with its primary objective of price stability and does not endanger financial stability.

The rule is extremely similar to the Evans Rule, but is a lighter touch: the unemployment threshold is higher, and the FPC oversight provides more opportunity for a "knockout" to be applied. Nonetheless, it is a radical change for UK monetary policy, since it represents the Bank of England claiming direct influence over the unemployment rate at the highest levels.

Politically, the rule takes some of the steam out of the Government's attempts to present the economy as on the mend. Setting an unemployment threshold of 7 per cent means that the Chancellor can no longer present the UK's labour market as healthy, and will hopefully draw attention to the fact that unemployment has stagnated closer to 8 than 7 per cent for the past six months. It also lessens the ability of the Government to focus on recent increases in growth; as the Bank points out, while unemployment is this high, there is almost certainly slack in the economy, meaning growth could be higher.

But accommodative monetary policy has to be accompanied by accommodative fiscal policy to be effective. There is much George Osborne could do to aid Mark Carney's attempts to fix the economy, but there is much else he could do to frustrate them. The burden is shared. Hopefully the Pushmi-pullyu can agree on what needs to be done.

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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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